I’ve Been Fucking My Dick Neighbor’s Son (Patreon)

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

I’m several years out of college, so I assumed the experimental phase had passed.  I’ve been living in NYC since graduating, and Tinder girls typically keep me satisfied for one-offs when I need a release. I’ve considered myself straight and I always preferred the ladies, but I also knew that my appreciation for male bodies was slightly elevated compared to the typical straight guy. I used to joke about it with my friends growing up. When someone would make a comment like “Woah that’s way too gay for me,” I would say, “I’d do it.”

I knew they couldn’t tell for sure if I was joking or not, but it was never a thing, and I never got with a guy in any actual way besides some mutual jerking off.

In college, I started showering with other guys at the gym for the first time, and that was pretty revealing at first. When a dude has an enviable stack of abs, tree trunk thighs and a bubble butt, muscles up and down his shoulders and a symmetrical, handsome face, stuff like that always made me want to be a little closer to them, “bro out” a little harder, push the limits of male bonding. I even knew that it was somewhat sexual, but it was more of a light curiosity than a desire that wasn’t easily satisfied with a horny girl at a party, so it never went beyond a bit of horseplay with the boys.

Things changed when I moved into a new building last year in Murray Hill. I found out that the “Co-op board president” was a total dick. 

He was so judgmental about everything related to my apartment that he could see from outside. The first thing he ever said to me was that my furniture layout was “kind of tacky”, with a weirdly simmering half smile. I actually thought he was gay, but it turned out he was just pretentious and snobby. He had opinions about everything, even the cool electronic lock I had installed on my door. The thing opens when I tap my phone on it, which is badass, but apparently it’s “ugly”? It’s just a small black circle. He told me I literally needed to put a flower holder thing in my window, or else I “might get fined by the co-op”. 

“Aren’t you the board president?” I asked, astonished at the intruding nature of this dude. 

“Yes,” he said plainly, and then walked away. 

He seemed to specifically hate me. I rarely saw his wife at all, but he had mentioned her in passing a few times, and I was loosely aware that they had a son.

A couple weeks after my last interaction with Dave, during which I decided to just not talk to him anymore, I heard him fighting loudly with his son in his apartment, even though I was a couple floors down at the stairwell. The kid was yelling back with a verbal punch, which instantly made me a fan. 

Then, I heard Dave call him a “faggot”, or else say that his clothes made him look like one or something, which filled me with pity for the poor dude. 

“What an asshole,” I said out loud to myself in the hallway. 

I finally met the kid a couple days later. He was standing shirtless and sweaty outside the building, fumbling with his phone and cursing at it. His shorts were riding low and he was clearly returning from a run. He was drenched in sweat, and his shorts hugged his toned bubble butt that I noticed quickly. He was clearly athletic. I was already weirdly jealous of him, getting flashbacks to my time as a skinny high school kid looking up to the premium jocks who got all the girls. I had since filled out at the gym and learned how to look good naked, but those core development years never went away, really. 

I walked up and he looked at me expectantly.

“Sup,” I said.

“Hey, I’m Josh, on the third floor. Lost my key on my run. Phone is out of battery.”

“I gotchyu,” I said.

He stood close to me as I unlocked the door, and I couldn’t help but notice the peak male shape of him. And he smelled like a sweaty boy, which was objectively kind of nasty, but also cool in a bro-ey way. I respected the hustle of getting a disgusting sweat built up for a workout.

When I let him into the building, I held the door open for him to the narrow hallway that led to the stairs. He squeezed by me, and his wet, firm body slid against me, leaving a visible line of sweat along my shirt, making me chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he said.

“All good,” I said, shrugging it off.

I left him with a nod, heading toward my door, which was right by the entrance, but I noticed a pause. He was standing still at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the wall. 

“You alright?” I said.

“Yeah.”

Another pause. 

“I just don’t wanna go home yet. My dad is a dick.”

I narrowed my eyes for a second. 

“Is Dave your Dad?”

“Yeah… how did you?”

“Lucky guess,” I said, chuckling, and he laughed too. We had something in common already.

He paused for another second, pulling his phone out of his pocket, stalling for time I guess.

“Come to mine,” I said, “grab some water.”

I added a wink to let him know it was all good, which made me immediately question myself. His eyes lit up, making me wonder if I had given the wrong impression. It was the standard wink I do to let people know things are cool, things are ok, absolutely not the wink that means any subtle undertones of flirting, and this kid might be gay, so I should have been walking on eggshells.

We talked for a few minutes while he chugged water in my kitchen. I made sure to talk a little more masculine and bro-ey than normal, to make sure he knew I was straight. I think I got my point across, and, honestly, I wasn’t even sure he was gay after a couple minutes of talking. He didn’t give off any vibes at all.

I learned that he was eighteen, at the tail end of high school and clearly going through a phase of aggressive assertion of independence, which wasn’t helping the friction with his dad.

He was cute and blonde and clearly athletic, or at least very well toned. I noticed the shape of him very clearly. Old feelings came up that I hadn’t really had since college, and I had the urge to both get closer to this dude as well as do something that would piss off his asshole dad.

Just when I was about to tell him he should probably go, as much to save myself from doing anything stupid as to prevent his dad from knowing he was hanging out here, he asked if he could shower.

I hesitated for a second, then relaxed. “Sure, towels are in the pantry thing in the bathroom.”

He threw back the rest of his glass of water, slammed it down on the counter and disappeared behind the door. The water started running, and I put on some coffee and relaxed on my couch. 

After a notably long shower, like maybe thirty minutes, He opened the door followed by a wall of steam shrouding him. His towel was hung low under his abs, and I caught myself staring at him.

He plopped down on the chair across from my couch, a bit of water still dripping from his hair. He sank back into it like he was getting very comfortable. The towel hung slightly over his knees, so I couldn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to, not that I was looking.

“You wanna watch TV or something?” he said. 

I guess he plans on staying a while.

“Sure, what’re you into?” I asked. I had gestured to the TV, but the pause in his demeanor let me know I had inadvertently asked something personal.

I saw him gulp. He looked at me sideways, raising an eyebrow. “I’m… open.”

I spread my legs a little farther than they were already, and I noticed something shift under his towel. Something was happening.

“Hey,” I said, “If you’re still wet, you probably shouldn’t sit on that chair. You’ll damage the leather.”

He stood up slowly, and the bulge under his towel was clear as day. His hands clutched the towel at his waist, as his eyes darted to the ground. He looked at the space on the couch. The pillows were piled up across from me, so the only opening was up close to where I was sitting. 

He shook slightly as he slowly sat down. Our legs touched, my pants warming up at the contact with his bare skin. He sat there sheepishly, his young, lean muscles glistening as the sunlight hit them through my window. He glanced at the chair.

“That’s not leather,” he said.

“I know,” I replied.

He looked at me. I winked. We smiled at each other.

We went on to talk about ourselves. After a few minutes he was sitting casually, facing me. His elbows were back on the pillows as I reclined into my half of the couch. We connected on everything, and he told me what it was like to grow up in the city. His legs started to overlap with mine, like he was playing footsie with me while I continued playing a flirtatious form of hard-to-get. 

He laughed at every other sentence I said, even if I didn’t mean to make a joke, and I felt like I was breaking down barriers I didn’t even know I had.

When we finally started talking about dating, he got a little more serious.

“My ex-girlfriend was a great cook,” I said. “The first time I ever got a little bit of a belly was the year in college when I dated her.”

“You don’t have a belly,” he said, poking me through my shirt. 

I lifted my polo up, showing my hard-earned abs. I actually had a happy trail, compared to him.

“Nah, I worked it off.”

He reached out and gently touched my abs. I let him, slowly watching him rub the back of his hand along the stack I was so proud of. One corner of my mouth raised while I looked at him, his eyes focused down on my body.

I brushed him away gently, and let my shirt fall back down. I gestured to his exposed stack of abs and man meat. “You’ve got a great set yourself.”

“Thanks,” he said as he rested a hand on his abdomen. “It’s wrestling, really. And basketball I guess.”

Then he finally asked the question he wanted to. 

“So, do you have a girlfriend now?”

“Nope.”

I could see his eyes light up a bit. I wondered if this was going too far, if this was ok. But still, in my head, it wasn’t going to go beyond a bit of flirting, until he asked the next question.

“Have you ever been with a guy?”

I chuckled, but I felt my stomach sink in my body.

“No,” I said, slowly. I was saying something more with my eyes than my words.

He shifted on the couch, the open part of his towel now facing me.

“Would you?”

I held his gaze for a moment while I eyed him suspiciously. He put a hand on my thigh. 

“Yeah.”

His hand moved higher toward my growing bulge.

“But, your dad…” I said.

“It would piss him off… if he found out,” Josh whispered, his face approaching mine.

I got goosebumps from the way he said it, his hard form crawling over my body on the couch as his towel started to fall off of him, exposing that bubble butt I had been thinking about all day. I could feel his dick dragging along my legs, my eyes glued to his face.

“Josh,” I said as I put a hand on his hip, steadying myself before I fell off the couch. 

I gripped hard, and felt the meat of his glute under my fingers. The sensation in my body was insane. It was taboo. The age difference was wrong. We could get caught. He lives in my building. Everything in my pre-frontal cortex was telling me to bail, but my body was sensing an impending pleasure I hadn’t known before. 

I pulled his body against me, our foreheads touching, our eyes almost fusing together. I felt a hard dick touching me for the first time in my life. I wanted to kiss him. I felt his body tense, his ass muscles flexing under my hand as I got a better grip on his perfectly smooth skin, his hairless ass like a globe of pure sex in my palm.

Josh’s eyes turned to glass.

“Uh, oh, wait, shit,” Josh said, his voice cracking a bit. His eye flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and I felt it. A wet spot had appeared on my shirt and pants. He pulled his body away slowly, and I saw that last bit of white goo dribble out of his raging cock. 

“Oh, damn,” I said, shock hitting me. I had never seen another dude’s cum in person before, but I guess it wasn’t really anything weird. Just cum. My hand fell away from his body as he sat up, his raging boner sticking up in the air. 

I grabbed the towel from the floor and wiped myself up.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s alright dude. It happens. I used to be like that too.” 

I tried to chuckle, but I felt my own wave of shame rising up in my body. This had gone too far. This really wasn’t right. I let a teenager into my house and let the strange, taboo attraction lead to a jizzing accident.

“I thought I was over that phase,” he said, a hint of shame in his voice.

“I better get home,” he said as he found his sweaty shorts, pulling them on and picking up the underwear to shove into his pocket. 

I didn’t want him to feel ashamed at all, but I also really wanted him to leave at this point. I had this strange sense that everyone was going to find out, like I would be judged or something. I was already planning in my head how to avoid scandal if people in the building started talking about it. My head was spinning.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, “But really, it’s all good man. I’ll see you around the building for sure.”

“Can I have your number?” he said, sucking his lips into his mouth, like it was a nervous thing he did.

I paused. “I mean, probably better not to exchange contact info. You know?”

“Sure,” he said with a nod, but his disappointment was evident on his face.

When the door closed behind him. I felt the whirlwind of the experience flying through my body. I had been horny, embarrassed, thrilled and ashamed all in an afternoon, and it was some young jock who was the son of my least favorite neighbor.

I threw my pants into my overflowing hamper and waited for my heart to stop racing. 

Things quieted in my head, and by the next day I had shaken it off. But after that, I started to see him around the building and the neighborhood more and more, and he would usually just acknowledge me briefly if at all, especially if his dad was around, which was probably a good thing. He winked at me one time with a bit of a smile, which made me feel a little warm inside. I really liked this dude, to be honest, and I could finally admit that to myself, even if it was more appropriate that nothing private happen between us.

The week after we met, I did ignore a follow request from Josh on my Instagram. It pained me to do so, but I was just afraid of the consequences, whatever they might be.

The next Friday night, I was superlatively horny after returning home from a work thing. It was close to midnight, and I didn’t really have the energy to “go out”, and I wasn’t even sure if any of my friends would really want to anyway. 

I opened up Tinder, to maybe get a girl over or else just sext with some females and have a nice nut. I swiped a few times until I saw an unexpected profile. It was a dude, but it wasn’t even showing his face. It happens sometimes, where a gay dude makes his gender “female” to try and sneak onto a straight guy’s Tinder stack.

“Idiot,” I said out loud to no one. I was about to swipe him away until something hit me. The shape of the torso was familiar. I recognized him. His golden tan, the exact pink hue of his nipples, the build of his pecs and abs. 

Fuck, it’s Josh.

I bit my lip, and swiped right.

It was a match.