After my wife died the house was so empty.
Most of the time it was okay. I went to work and didn’t think about it. I ate dinner out, came home and watched TV until late. But there was no one to share my bed at night, and the weekends were long and lonely.
In a way it was good, because I started being more friendly to people, just to have someone to talk to. My next door neighbor George, for instance.
Before Veda got sick she’d always loved to garden and take care of the yard. George liked to work outside too, so they were always chatting over the fence that divided our property. I didn’t cotton to that much. George always had his shirt off. I didn’t like Veda talking to half-naked men, and said so. Veda just laughed at me and did as she pleased.
When the cancer took her George was real nice. He came to the funeral and shook my hand afterward. He leaned forward and said in a soft voice, “If you need someone to talk to, I’m always there, buddy.” I nodded and thanked him, though I wasn’t planning on taking him up on his offer.
It was months later, though, and the pain was still there, a big hard lump of missing her just sitting inside me. One Friday when I came home from work I saw George, digging at something or another in his yard as he did almost every sunny day, dressed the way he always was–denim shorts, work boots and that was it. He looked up and waved at me. I waved back.
“How’s it going?” he called out.
I was about to say fine and go on in the house. Something made me walk toward him, though, carrying my briefcase. I stopped by the fence that stood between our yards, just the way Veda used to do.
“Guess I’m getting by,” I said.
George came toward me, his chest hair matted and sweaty. I’d been jealous when I’d heard him and Veda laughing and carrying on outside. I’d been snippy sometimes when he’d tried to be friendly to me. I felt bad about that now.
He was looking at me with a sympathetic expression on his face.
“It’s rough, isn’t it?”
George said, “Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?”
I was surprised, and even more surprised to hear myself say, “That’d be nice.”
He smiled. “Around seven be okay?”
A few hours later I was knocking on my neighbor’s front door, holding a bottle of wine. It was ajar. I stuck my head in and yelled, “Hello?”
“Come on in, Oren,” George’s voice answered. “I’m in the kitchen.”
I went in the direction of his voice. George was at the stove, checking on something. He was wearing flip-flops, and nothing else. I stopped, wine bottle in hand. My mouth was hanging open and I closed it.
George turned around and smiled. “Hey, neighbor. Welcome.” All of a sudden his eyes widened. “Oh my god,” he said and clapped his fist over his mouth. A snort of laughter got past him. We stood there for what seemed like hours. Finally he said, “I forgot to tell you, didn’t I? That I’m a nudist?”
“Uh, yeah, guess you forgot,” I managed. That explained his work outfit. At least he hadn’t taken it all off outdoors.
“Jeez, Oren, I’m sorry. Do you want me to put something on?”
I was trying as hard as I could to keep my eyes from wandering downward. Still, I glimpsed something pretty impressive between those long legs. Finally I shook my head. “Maybe I should just go.”
“No, please,” George said. “I’m sorry. I’ll just go get some clothes.”
“That’s not right,” I protested. “It’s your house. I can’t make you do that.”
“That’s very understanding of you, Oren.” George smiled. “I’d really like it if you’d stay.”
After a moment I nodded, and handed him the bottle of wine.
“Help me carry these things into the dining room,” George said. As he led the way in with the plates I got a good look at his back side. For a guy his age, which was my age, he looked pretty good. His shoulders tapered down to his waist in a nice V-shape, and there were no love handles on the way down. He had a tight little ass, only a little paler than the rest of him. Some weird feeling was tingling inside me. For the first time since Veda died I felt alive.
Once we were sitting at the table it wasn’t so bad, since I could only see George’s top half. He opened the bottle I’d brought and poured us two glasses. He was a good cook and between the delicious food and the wine I finally relaxed. He talked about his boat and going fishing on the lake (which he did naked too), and promised to take me the next time. He told me funny stories about freaking out UPS guys and other door-to-door types until I was hysterical with laughter.
There was a lull in our chatter. I shook the front of my shirt. “Boy, I’m hot. Must be the wine.”
“I don’t use the air-conditioning much,” George said, and winked. “One advantage of being a nudist.”
I don’t know what got into me then. I must have been a little tipsy. “I’m not being very sociable keeping my clothes on, am I?”
George raised his eyebrows and smiled. “It’s up to you, Oren.”
“What the hell.” I stood up and began to unbutton my shirt. I wasn’t wearing much and it didn’t take long to peel all the way down. When I was starkers and my clothes were piled on the chair I looked at George again.
“How’s it feel?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Nice,” I said. It was the truth.
“Why don’t we go in the living room? I’ll bring the wine.”
We sat on George’s couch and drank and talked some more. The evening light gradually began to fade and he clicked on one lamp. When he sat down again he threw one long arm up on the back of the couch. His fingers touched my shoulder. I felt that tingle again.
I turned and looked into his smiling eyes. “I’m glad you came, Oren,” he said. “It’s been a wonderful evening.”
His other hand moved in his lap. I took a quick peek. He had a hold of his dick, which had grown in size. I turned away.
“It’s okay to look, Oren,” George said softly. “I’m looking at yours.”
My eyes moved downward. My own cock was pointing straight up at my navel. That was where the tingling was coming from.
George leaned down toward my lap, looking up at me. “Is this all right?” he asked. I nodded not knowing what he was going to do. The next moment I gasped as I felt hot, slippery pleasure surround my cock. It’d been years since I’d had a blow job. It only took a few minutes for the juices that had been pent up inside to come boiling up.
“Oh god, I’m going to cum,” I moaned.
“Mm hmm,” George said, sliding faster up and down on my cock. The next minute my hand was clamped on his head and I was shouting as I blew blast after blast of cream down his throat. George pressed his face against my stomach as he gulped down every drop.
Finally the storm passed and I collapsed onto the couch, still gasping for air. George let go, looked up at me and smiled. His eyes were watery and his cheeks were red with exertion.
“You okay?” he asked.
I knew I ought to feel bad, but I didn’t feel anything but relaxed. That hard lump I’d carried around inside me for so long was gone, melted, dissolved.
“That was nice,” I said.
George smiled. He sat up and pressed his mouth to mine. It felt weird to have a man’s beard scratching my face, but his lips and tongue were soft and tender. After we kissed he pulled me down toward him until he was on his back and I was lying on top of him. I let out a long sigh, which all of a sudden turned into a sob. The next moment I was crying against his chest. George held me, not saying a word, until I started to quiet down. I could hear his heartbeat, slow and comforting.
“You miss her.”
I nodded. “A lot.”
“I’ve been watching you these past few months, coming home with your face so still and sad. I wanted to help,” George said. “I hope I wasn’t too pushy.”
I shook my head. “You’ve been very kind.” I reached down and hesitantly took his cock, soft but still long. “You didn’t cum.”
He smiled. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I want you to cum,” I said. A glint appeared in his eye.
“Well, if you insist-”
I learned a lot I didn’t know before that weekend. I learned the strange thrill of having your head in a naked man’s crotch, knowing he was giving you access to his most vulnerable parts. I learned that running your tongue around the ridge where the head of a man’s dick joins the shaft makes him moan. I learned that precum tastes salty and cum tastes like a cross between ocean water and rubber cement, but it’s worth swallowing it because nothing pleases a man more than someone who’s willing to take his load, in his mouth…
And up his ass. I never would have believed I’d ever let a man do that to me. But George was mighty persuasive, and so gentle. First he said he’d give me a rim job. I didn’t know what that was, and I couldn’t believe it when he got me on my back, spread my legs and put his mouth between my cheeks! I tried to wriggle away but George held me fast. Then I felt his tongue on my hole. It was as good as his mouth on my cock, even better maybe, because I’d never felt anything like it before. I stopped struggling and began to moan. George chuckled in satisfaction.
“Wait, it gets better,” he said.
He got a tube of some gel, put some on his fingers, and pushed first one, then two up my butt. He touched a place inside that made me gasp with pleasure, and told me that was my prostate.
“I think you’re ready,” he said, rubbing the same gel onto his cock. I took a look at his rod and was scared. It was a lot bigger than his finger. George got between my legs, and I felt the tip of his organ pressing against my hole. My heart was thudding and my breath was quick and shallow. He must have seen the fear on my face, because he smiled and stroked my cheek.
“I won’t lie to you, Oren,” he said. “The first time hurts a little. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
I nodded, trying to smile. The next moment I felt something huge and hard stab into my rear.
“Please, it hurts,” I cried. George nodded.
“Just relax, Oren. I’ll go slow. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. Trust me.”
I cried out again as the object inside me moved forward. There was nothing I could do. I looked at George’s face, filled with tenderness, and surrendered. My friend was giving me his most prized possession, himself. How could this be bad?
“Oh, Oren,” George crooned, “Your ass feels so good. Do you feel good?”
“Yes,” I said, and to my surprise I meant it. The pain was gone and in its place was warm fire, rising from places I didn’t know could feel so good.
“Fuck me, George.”
“You got it, baby,” he said, as he began to thrust into me. Here I was, naked, bent double under another man’s body, the most secret part of me being invaded and assaulted. I felt his hot breath on my face, smelled the musk of his sweat. I knew there was no place I’d rather be.
“Fuck me,” I cried again and again, clinging to his driving body like a drowning man. I remembered how my sweet Veda had sometimes shocked me with her language during our lovemaking. I finally understood what she’d been feeling.
George grabbed my cock and began to jerk on it in time to his thrusts. In a few moments I felt the fire rising in my balls. My asshole grabbed his cock and I shouted again as hot spurts shot out of me for the second time that evening, splattering across my chest and stomach.
“Oh fuck yeah, take my load Oren,” George cried. He slammed one last time into me before collapsing on my chest. I held him and rubbed his back, my cum gluing our bodies together as our breathing slowly returned to normal.
George lifted his head, smiled, and kissed me.
“That was a honor.”
“An honor?” I said, puzzled.
“Being your first. I’ve never been anyone’s first before. I hope I was worthy of that.”
I chuckled at his odd formality, and decided to tease him a little. “Well, I don’t know.”
He looked worried. “What do you mean?”
“I need something to compare it to before I decide how good you were. Can you try it again?”
He rolled his eyes and tapped my cheek, gently. “Aw, you…”
By the time I finally left George’s house on Sunday night my balls ached from having been emptied so often. My butt was tender and I was walking kind of funny. It felt very strange to have clothes on.
“Are you really a nudist?” I asked him at one point.
“Sure I am,” he said.
“But you didn’t accidentally forget to tell me, did you?”
He laughed. “No. I took a chance. Turned out okay, didn’t it?”
It sure did.