When I moved into my apartment house several years ago, I had no idea that living in close quarters to others could be so hot and sexy. Or that my fantasies would take on a life of their own. The walls here are very thin and I always know when my next door neighbor is at home or away. I can clearly hear his television and phone conversations. What's more is his bathroom is next to my hallway and I can hear him pissing every day, and if you knew him and could see what he looks like, you'd understand right away.
His name is Ryan. He's straight and lives by himself like me, but I'm gay and I adore straight men; always have. He's in his thirties, handsome face, beautiful blue eyes, sandy brown wavy hair and is over six feet of naturally fit build with unbelievable ass and legs. We run into each other fairly often and enjoy a casual friendship, mostly small talk. He knows I'm gay but doesn't know how hot I think he is and all the nasty things I imagine him doing to me almost every day for the last four years. Sometimes he leaves his clothes in the laundry room and I always fold them perfectly for him. I love it when he works out with his boxer's punching bag. I can hear the rattling chains and the deep thump of his punches. It's so sexy. But nothing's like hearing him go into the bathroom to shower or to take a piss. I've even heard him beating off through the wall a few times.
I don't know what made me do it, but last year when he was out of town on vacation, I tried my apartment key in his door, and as luck would have it, it fit and opened it. It took me a while to get the nerve to actually go in and have a look around, just out of curiosity, and having a huge crush. The few friends I've told think I'm crazy, but I would never do any harm. It's just so exciting to see the bed where he sleeps, the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, his sneakers, family photos and a stack of girlie magazines on the shelf in the bathroom. I've only gone in a handful of times, but on one occasion, I slipped under the covers of his unmade bed for a little while and savored the scent of him lingering on his pillow. I'm also now familiar with the manly smell of his used socks and shoes. In the bathroom, I was more than surprised to find the toilet unflushed, still filled with a bladder full of his hot piss. The thought of it would not let me be, until finally, I went back in with a cup and scooped some out to go, like a parting gift. Diluted as it was, it was the first time I ever swallowed someone's piss. Not bad; just a dull salty taste. Now whenever I hear Ryan's heavy stream of piss hitting the water, I remember the taste of it, too.
So many times I've been tempted to just knock on the door and offer him my services, but I always chicken out. You have to be careful approaching straight guys. A lot of even mature ones still have conflicting or unresolved issues when it comes to male sexuality. My intuition tells me he'd be OK with it but wouldn't act on it, not yet. I still don't want to risk ending up with what could be an uncomfortable or awkward situation or at worst a ruined friendship.
I know now that I needn't have worried myself about any of it.
Ryan had been gone on summer vacation for at least a week. I noticed it the night I came home late from a night of drinking with friends; truck not parked outside, 2:30 in the morning. Full of liquid courage and still in search of excitement, I got my key and quietly entered his apartment in my underwear and socks. As with the other times before, it was darkened, still and quiet. The hot neighbor's apartment without the hot neighbor. If only. I wish. That hot bed. What it must be like to be in it with him. Such a good man. Must've gotten new shoes. Boy, he really likes fishing. Wouldn't that be nice if he took me along? DVDs. I've seen that. Good one. Oh, look at all the pictures. 1996. There must be some in his 20's. Where to start? Have a seat on the floor.
I was in his and my own little world relishing pictures of the younger and even hotter Ryan for what must have been 45 minutes. A silence broken like never before, the front door to the building slammed shut. Unmistakable. Immovable panic. Oh fuck! Too late to get out. Keys dangling outside the locked door. Myself and his memories spread out on the floor.
"What the fuck!" A very startled Ryan staring down at me on his floor.
"Please don't freak out, Ryan. It's just me. I can explain."
"You can explain? Explain what you're doing breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night?"
"Not exactly. There was no breaking." Only the truth would make any sense, I was thinking.
"How'd you get in here? And what the fuck are you doing?" The fear in his voice was giving way to confused anger.
"My key fits your door. Yours probably fits mine. I shouldn't have used it. I should have told you." Said with equal parts embarrassment and shame.
"How long have you known this?"
"Over a year."
Thinking it over. "So this isn't the first time you've been in here, is it?"
"No. It's not."
"Are you looking for something? Have you taken anything?"
"No. I would never do anything to hurt you."
