My Neighbor Lost His Fear With Me That Afternoon

I’m bringing you another true story, this time about a neighbor. Sometimes apps surprise you for the better and, among so many blank profiles, a normal guy appears, someone you can have a filthy conversation with that later turns into flesh and reality. That happened to me with a man a little over forty, single, who lived three doorways away from mine, in the same old neighborhood.

Let’s call him Mateo, though that isn’t his real name. He was discreet, horny, and his plan couldn’t have been simpler: find someone to spend a while at his place, watching porn, masturbating together, and sucking each other off. It seemed like a great plan to me. I’ve always found it hot when two men touch each other with no other aim than pleasure. We exchanged photos and, body-wise, he was no slouch: big build, hairy, with a trimmed beard and a cock that looked delicious, not huge but with a very pronounced glans.

I took a quick shower and headed over. Three minutes on foot, if that.

Just as we’d discussed, when he opened the door I saw he had everything ready. The porn was playing on the living room’s big screen and he was wearing nothing but tight briefs. We weren’t going to waste time chatting about nonsense. I took my clothes off and sat beside him on the sofa. I didn’t even know if he’d want to kiss me; maybe we’d spoken too little. But wasn’t that part of the charm?

We started touching each other. I slipped my hand over his briefs, he did the same with mine, and little by little we both got harder. I barely paid attention to the film. My gaze was fixed on that trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his underwear. I was dying to pull out his cock and see it up close, live, not in a photo.

Mateo told me he didn’t need the briefs. I pulled them down for him and his cock sprang out, completely hard, wet at the tip. I jerked him for a few seconds, but I couldn’t help bringing my face in to smell it and, right after, suck it. The pronounced glans let me glide the foreskin back and forth to give him more pleasure, and the hair around it added an extra dose of kink. The asshole wasn’t looking at the screen anymore either, because he wasn’t letting me lift my head from his crotch.

Then he took my face in both hands and kissed me hard. He was a little rough, but he wasn’t bad at it: he moved his tongue with skill, in no hurry to finish. And all of that with both cocks hard, rubbing against our thighs.

Then he bent down for a few seconds to suck me off. It was only a short while, but I enjoyed it as if it had been twenty minutes. We were incredibly turned on, at that point where you don’t know if you should blow right this second or hold back to stretch the pleasure out. We gave each other a few more blowjobs, interspersed with kisses, until, sitting next to each other with our legs crossed, we each let out a good load. We liked each other and everything had flowed beautifully. We cleaned up, I said goodbye, and went back home.

***

Don’t think that was the end of it. The conversation kept going over the following days on the app. We started getting more explicit, telling each other about our kinks, our experiences, and something caught my attention: he told me he didn’t like fucking. I was surprised, because on his sofa I’d seen him desperate to split me open.

I kept pulling at the thread until he confessed it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it; it was insecurity. He’d lose his erection at the crucial moment, or couldn’t hold it long enough the few times he’d tried. I felt brutal empathy for him. I know what it’s like not being able to fuck someone you’re crazy about because you can’t get hard, or coming after the first thrust. Only trust, calm, and, of course, practice slowly pulled me out of that, until I could truly enjoy sex.

The neighbor made me horny just thinking about him, and even more so if I could contribute, even a little, to taking those fears away. I’ve always said it very clearly: when I meet up with someone, it’s to have a good time and forget about everything else. So, warming him up little by little, I suggested we try it. If we fucked, great; and if not, we’d already confirmed there was a whole world beyond penetration.

A few days later we bumped into each other and arranged to go back to his place. This time I came prepared: before leaving I made sure to stretch my ass with a small dildo. I was dead sure Mateo wanted to fuck me and I was going to make it very easy for him. He kept insisting that his cock, since the head was so big, hurt on the first pushes in and that scared him. I was willing to show him it didn’t. I’d told him, being a little tease, to ram it in all at once so he wouldn’t have time to back out. That I’d take it.

This time I had instructions. When I got there, while he watched me from the sofa, I was supposed to take off my clothes, stay naked, kneel in front of him, unbutton his jeans, and start sucking him off. That’s what I did. While I was taking off my sneakers, he was already rubbing his crotch over his pants. He must have been rock hard, and I wasn’t about to keep him waiting. As soon as I could, I knelt down, pulled it out, and started sucking it eagerly.

After a couple of minutes savoring it, he stood up, put me on all fours against the sofa, bent down, spread my buttocks with his hands, and buried his tongue in my hole. He started eating my ass with force. I loved it. It wasn’t a delicate ass-eating, with gentle movements, but rough, lots of tongue, lots of saliva, lots of drive. The asshole needed to get truly worked up before daring to do what he wanted to do.

He pulled his face away from my ass, stood up, and didn’t even give me time to ask him to put on a condom. He came over quickly, as if he only had a few seconds before losing his nerve, and with one shove he buried it all the way in. I let out a groan between pain and pleasure. I had to take it. I was already stretched out and his ass-eating had helped, so it didn’t hurt that much, though he was right: that thick-headed glans was felt in a big way. But it felt incredible.

I wanted him to fuck me, to see that he could do it, to get turned on. And did he ever. He gave me a few thrusts and yanked it out in one go.

—If I don’t pull out, I’ll get you pregnant —he said, half joking, half serious.

He did right. On his face I could see a mix of the kink of the moment and the joy of having managed to penetrate me without hang-ups, knowing I wasn’t there to judge him but to truly enjoy him. We kept going calmly. We sat on the sofa and I sucked him off again slowly, alternating kisses, tongue, lots of spit.

And I wanted cock again, that’s just how I am. Very much a bottom, I’m very much a bottom. With him sitting on the sofa, I climbed on top and, gripping his cock nice and hard, lowered myself onto it little by little. He almost rolled his eyes back. He took advantage of having me on top to give me some brutal thrusts from below and, almost immediately, pulled out again. He had me at a thousand, and I was just as turned on seeing him like that. We were having an absolutely fucking amazing time.

I sucked him off again, and we sat side by side once more, hard cocks at the ready, touching and stroking each other slowly. I was surprised by his ability to hold back from coming. To calm things down, we lay facing each other, legs intertwined and our cocks almost touching, stroking ourselves slowly. The end was close. We couldn’t take much more; we were drenched in sweat from head to toe.

***

And it couldn’t end any other way. I stood up, braced myself on the sofa again and, on all fours, offered him my ass once more. I didn’t have to say a thing. He stood up, stroking himself to keep it firm, came closer and, after a few hesitant seconds where he seemed unable to go through with it, that glans pierced me again and went all the way in.

I told him that if he wanted to come inside, he should put on one of the condoms I’d brought in my trouser pocket. He said no. After a few thrusts in which my ass no longer offered the slightest resistance, the asshole sped up, pulled out in time, flipped me over, and shot all his load over my chest. The sweat from his forehead fell on me too. I had no choice but to come right after, also over my chest.

The kink was brutal. It seemed to me, possibly, like one of the best fucks I’ve ever had. In the afterglow, sitting on the sofa with our breathing still ragged, he told me something I’ll never forget: that if it hadn’t been for the chemistry and for feeling free of pressure, he wouldn’t have been able to let go and do everything he found himself doing. It had been a long time since he’d fucked a guy, and with me he’d managed it.

I had no choice but to give him a good make-out session before heading to the shower to wash away the evidence. After that we said goodbye like good mates, with the ease of two neighbors bumping into each other in the building lobby.

This was about a month ago. We’re still in touch, though so far we haven’t met up again. That said, the dirty conversations and the long-distance wanks haven’t stopped. He’s hinted that he wants to feel my cock rubbing against his ass… What will happen next time? Will it be his turn to taste his own medicine?