The New Neighbor Mr. Russo

That evening I could not concentrate on homework. I kept turning my head and glancing out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new neighbor in the room across from mine. I noticed that while I was at school, a desk had been moved into the once deserted room. The desk was actually a drafting table that tilted up and was open underneath. Overhead lights on angled arms were clamped to each side of the large table. The room was dark except for a small lit lamp sitting on a bookcase against the back wall of the room.

Annoyed at myself for being so distracted by the new neighbor, a stranger, I slid out of my desk chair and hit the floor trying to do as many pushups as I could crank out. After exhausting my arms and chest with forty three pushups, I rolled over and did sit-ups until my abs pinched with exhaustion. I layed on the hardwood of my bedroom, breathing hard and sweating. Only when I got up did I realize the lights on the drafting table had been turned on.

He was leaning over the drafting table looking at something, a drawing or maybe a map I guessed. I instantly saw how hairy his lower arms were. Why hadn't I noticed the hair on his arms that morning? My own arms were beginning to be lightly dusted with blonde, fine hairs.

The neighbor walked around to the side of the desk. He was wearing short green running shorts that showed off his well defined legs, covered in dark brown hair. My mouth felt dry and I rubbed my penis through the pair of shorts that had long ago lost the elasticity of the waist and hung loosely under my hips. It was only then that I realized I was standing in the middle of my room, staring at an adult man, rubbing my hardening cock in full view through my window. Any second, he could have turned and seen me staring at him while molesting myself.

I turned and slid into my desk chair, staring at the homework on my desk, trying to act like I had been studying the whole time. The homework on my desk was just swirls of pencil on a white sheet. My mind was circling in panic, guilt, and arousal. I felt shame for openly staring at the new neighbor. What if he had seen me? Surely he would march down the steps of his house, across the alleyway to my front door, and bang loudly on it until someone in my family answered to the anger waiting on the other side. How dare they let their faggot perverted son stare at him through the window of his own home! What if he threatened to call the police or my school?

Had I been caught? The banging on the front door that would mark the ruin of my life never came. I had to look over, through the windows. Why were the windows facing each other anyway? Was this God's way of tempting me?. I pretended to drop a pencil over the side of my desk facing my window and his. I should be stronger. While my pencil dropped through the air, bouncing on the wood floor of my bedroom, I quickly promised myself and God that I would be a better boy, a better man.

He was still there. He was seated behind the drafting table writing. Maybe he was drawing? I decided that he was writing. The strokes of his pencil and the lack of movement of his arm gave me my answer. What was he writing?

I watched him until he stood up and removed his white t-shirt, revealing a lean but muscular physique. His chest was covered with dark brown hair that formed a narrow channel that flowed down his flat stomach, emptying beneath the green elastic waistband of his running shorts. The muscles over his ribs undulated down the sides of his torso. His armpits grew dark groves of musky fur.

Before the t-shirt slid past his face; before I was caught for maybe the second time, I picked up my pencil, straightened in my chair, and bowed my head to the physics homework waiting for my attention on my desk. I was trying to look like the perfect Catholic school boy. From the corner of my eye, I saw the lights switch off in the room across the alleyway.

Hoping I was not being watched, I walked over to my window and peered over at my neighbor's house. I was looking for clues. What was he doing? I watched for movement. I watched for anything.

There! I saw the glow of his stoop light come on and seconds later he started off at a jog, gone from my sight in a second.

I felt warm breath and the stubble from a chin graze down the back of my neck. My back trembled and broke out in goosebumps. He leaned closer to my body. I felt the thick fur of his chest crush against my back as he wrapped one arm around my chest. With his other hand, the young priest grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled back so that my head rested heavily on the shoulder of his wool cassock. The stiff white collar digging into my ear. My mouth gaped open and the skin of my neck tightened across my Adam's apple.

I sat under the drafting table between the neighbor's legs. I could smell the musky sweat of his body; his skin and fur still damp from his run. I took my tongue and ran it up and down his thighs, too shy, too scared to lick what I really wanted to taste. The neighbor widened his thighs, inviting me toward the enlarging bulge in his green running shorts.

My cock was hard and leaking precum down my shaft, coating the pink soft skin of my scrotum, and making my thighs slick with pre-ejaculate.

I opened my eyes. I was alone in my bed, the lamp on the nightstand still on from falling asleep reading. My penis ached for release and was slick with precum. I quietly groaned as my hand wrapped around my cock and I stroked it lightly, not wanting to cum just yet. My pubic hair was wet. I combed the fingers of my other hand through my bush and brought them to my mouth to taste the liquid leaking out of my cock.

The taste of my own cum brought me to climax. I arched my back and groaned, hoping my family was asleep and innocent to the sounds of my release. Ropes of my cum coated my face, chest, and the headboard of my bed.

I panted from the release, feeling my spent cum drip down my face and chest. My lips were coated with the thick liquid, and I licked them clean of the salty brine of my cum. I could feel my cock losing its' hardness and creeping back through my seeded bush.

I sat up in my bed, searching for something to wipe my body clean. I looked at the floor to the left of my bed. That's when I saw him sitting at his drafting table, lit only by the small lamp behind him. He was shadowed by the darkness of the rest of the room, but I could tell that he was seated upright, heading forward, staring directly into my bedroom window.