As with all of my stories, there will be an element of truth wrapped in a bit of literary embellishment to enhance the fantasy. Names and places, of course, have been changed.
After you've read my tales, please leave a comment of encouragement, or of critic, I welcome them both.
*****
I've held up well, physically, over the years. I'll turn 50 on my next birthday but I'm still in pretty good shape; I'm tall, 6'1", broad shoulders, a fit build...no extra weight around my midsection like most men my age acquire...I don't have bulging biceps or rippling abs, but I still have pretty good muscle tone. I'm told I'm good looking enough times to believe that I'm perceived that way, even though I don't much feel it.
Emotionally, that's a different story. I've had my share of the typical gay relationships; cheaters, liars, manipulators. Most recently, I was unfortunate enough to fall in love with a true sociopathic narcissist. Over the five year relationship, he did a real number on my ego and self-esteem, leaving me with a smattering of social anxiety, self worth issues, and a general fear of any further committed relationships.
I've been single for a few years now, keeping to myself and just trying to work on me for a while. I've had the sporadic bouts of loneliness and I've thought, maybe it's time to "get back out there,'' as they say, and I signed up on one of those online dating apps to give it another go only to realize again why I've stayed single. There were times when I would hook up with an old acquaintance for a booty call, two different guys that I've known for several years, but those happenings are few and far between.
I live in a small rural town in western North Carolina, and even though the general mindset towards gays has much improved over the years, there are still little pockets where it's not always best to be openly out and all that. I've never really been the rainbow flag waving, pride parade organizing type of gay man in the first place, but after I finally came out to my family and friends I've always been proud of who I am and never denied being gay if someone were to ask, but neither have I ever just thrown it out to people that I am. Being gay is my sexual preference, not what defines me as a person, and being that most people would never automatically guess that I am gay, most people in my neighborhood or at work have no idea that I am gay.
That changed recently.
If you've ever lived in one of those quaint little neighborhood developments where all the houses are somewhat close together and everyone knows everyone else you'll understand that when one person learns something unexpected about a neighbor, soon the entire neighborhood knows it. This is what happened to me when the "Neighborhood Karen" was driving past my house one evening and saw my booty call friend leaving my house and I kissed him goodbye on the front porch. I just resigned myself to the fact that before long everyone would know my business and I would be effectively outed to the entire neighborhood, and waved at Neighborhood Karen as she drove by gawking.
Several weeks passed before I began to notice that anything was off. I didn't expect anything of a hostile nature, being that I was the age that I was and that all the neighbors liked me and we all got along really well. I did notice many sidelong glances from the women in our comings and goings, a few of the men as well, but nothing more. I just continued on with my life as normal. I have already sorted out and dealt with who I am, now it was up to them to do the same for themselves.
One neighbor, in particular, became more friendly than he had previously been. That's not to say we weren't already on good terms, just that he seemed to go a little out of his way to offer a greeting, a wave, and a friendly smile whenever he saw me. I took it that he, too, had learned my "secret" and that he was overcompensating the way many straight men do in order to let you know that they were indifferent to the fact you are gay and they don't want you to feel out of place. I couldn't have been more wrong.
His name is Luke, though I referred to him to myself as Project Man. He lives directly across the street from me and his garage was basically a small woodworking shop and he was constantly working on some project or other. He made a lot of the farmhouse style furniture that was so popular at the time, and a few months back I had him build me two nightstands with doors and a drawer on them. I always imagined it was the typical situation of the husband avoiding the wife by hiding himself in his safe place, or whatever, and I'd sometimes sit on my porch with a coffee and a cigarette and watch him work.
He was an average looking guy, with that every-guy look to him, someone you'd see and imagine you knew him because he just looked familiar. He was average height, slim build, sandy blond hair, a nice little tush on him. I think he was around forty years old, but I'm not certain. His wife, on the other hand, had gone beyond her prime. They had three children, and it was obvious she wasn't pained to regain the pre-baby figure. She was a pretty woman, she'd just let herself go, as they say. She was also a part of the Karen Network so I knew she and he both had heard the news about the gay neighbor.
He began walking out to the curb on my side of the street when he would notice me coming in or out of the house and chit chatting for a few minutes about innocuous things; the weather, this neighbor putting in a new pool, his new project, or any number of things.
One afternoon I had come out to the porch with a coffee and was sitting watching him work and generally enjoying the warm day. He noticed me as he was walking out of his garage to grab a plank of lumber from his truck and smiled and threw his hand up in a wave. I returned the wave and the smile and he went on back into the garage.
I sat there, glancing at him when his moving about caught my eye, and drinking my coffee when I notice he was standing at the garage door looking at me looking at him. He had a faint smile on his face as he reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He wiped the sweat from his face and neck with it, all the while looking over at me, then propped his hands on his hips and just stood there.
Naturally, my eyes roved over his torso, noting his chest and shoulders. He had a very nice muscle tone, but wasn't all bulky and ripped. He looked damned good.
My eyes scanned down his belly to the little trail of hair running from his navel down into the waistband of his pants. As if he knew where my eyes were looking, he looked down at himself, caught his thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down in the front, just enough to reveal more of his waistline and the beginnings of his pubic mound.
I wasn't really sure what to think about this. He was obviously displaying for me, but it was very confusing and I wasn't sure how to process it...was he taunting me, flirting, or was it some other hetero male display I was unaware of?
My dick certainly had no trouble processing, as it stiffened a little in my pants.
I cocked my head to the side in a questioning gesture and he grinned back at me, then glanced to the side as if looking to see if anyone could see him, then he looked back at me and made a swiping motion down the front of his pants as if he were wiping away sawdust or something and then rested his hand over his bulge. With that, he turned and went back into the garage and started working again.
I have to say, I was intrigued wondering what that was all about. I finished my coffee, all the while watching him as he worked and occasionally looking over to me and smiling, and then I went back inside my house.
I didn't give it much more thought and then that weekend I was piddling around the house doing a little cleaning when there was a knock on the door. I made my way to the front room and glanced out the window beside the door and there stood Luke.
I opened the door and said, "Luke, hey."
He smiled at me and said, "Hey neighbor!"
