This is purely based on an observation I made as I was pissing with the blinds turned the wrong way--the neighbors could probably see in, if it was nighttime and the bathroom lights were on. So I thought "What would happen if they did see me? Or if anyone could see anyone else in this type of situation?"
The result is the below story. Enjoy!
_____
Way back before the Dark Ages, when dinosaurs walked the earth (which is to say, in the late 1980s
), a pair of new neighbors moved in next door--a man and woman in their mid-30s--while I was away at college the first semester of my sophomore year. When I came back for Christmas that year, their house was somewhat conveniently located, as I learned quite by chance one evening after a brief snowfall (which of course is rare for NC). But first let me set the stage . . . .
The nearby streetlights were glowing warmly on the new snow when a car I didn't recognize pulled up at the house next door as my family was eating supper. A medium-height, somewhat blocky man in a parka and boots and a woman even shorter and even more warmly dressed got out and went into their house.
I raised my eyebrows inquiringly, gesturing with my chin.
My mother said, "Oh, them? They're a nice couple. They moved in just after you left for college earlier this semester. What're their names, Frank?"
My father turned around in his chair to stare at the little one-story house next door, now lighting up room by room as the neighbors (presumably) shed their overcoats, turned up the heat, and sat down for some TV watching. It was almost as though he expected to somehow see their names written on the house if he stared hard enough.
"Jeffers? Jeffries? Jenkins? Something starting with jay-eee. I forget their first names. Nice people. Up from Florida, I believe."
(My parents, Frank and Carla, were in their 50s at the time and had obviously decided they were old, complete with the requisite memory loss.
Or so I thought at the tender age of 19.)
"I suppose you'll meet them soon enough, [NCbear]," my mother said, "either now or over the summer break. You'll find out their names then."
These were the first new neighbors in several years, so I was of course intrigued, but only in a low-key kind of way--until I saw, later that night, a memorable image . . . .
I'd cleared the table, put the leftovers back in the fridge, run water over the plates and silverware, put them in the dishwasher, and gone upstairs to my room, which overlooked the new neighbors' house. Before closing the blinds and sitting down with a good novel, I casually looked out the window and down--and my breath caught.
They'd turned the blinds over their bathroom window the wrong way so that I could look down from my second-floor window and see the male half of the couple standing there, naked, toweling off after a shower. He was . . . stunning. I have no other word for the way I felt.
Medium height, he was broad-shouldered and muscular, olive-skinned, and very hairy. Each pectoral was crowned with a large dark red nipple that poked out of a mat of curling black hair covering most of his torso--even his shoulders and back, as I learned when he moved one way and then another to make sure he got dry. He looked like a cross between a wrestler, a bodybuilder, and a dwarf--not in the "genetic anomaly" sense but in the "hero of fantasy fiction" sense. Amazingly, his firm, tight, but twin-bubble-shaped behind was also dark with hair, and his legs were muscular and hairy as well.
But it was between his legs that I saw the real prize: a long, thick, cut cock that bobbed as he dried off, backed by two balls that from my vantage point looked to be the size of turkeys' eggs dangling nearly a third of the way down those muscular thighs.
The absolute best part? When he took some lotion and rubbed it into his dark-red cockhead, which was nearly the size of a tennis ball and shaped like a Stone Age warrior's helmet. He really rubbed that lotion into the glans, let me tell you! Thrusting his hips forward and back a few times as he did so. As I watched, unable to turn away, my pajama pants--insisted upon by my parents once my brothers and I hit puberty--became uncomfortably tight in one specific area.
The result is the below story. Enjoy!
_____
Way back before the Dark Ages, when dinosaurs walked the earth (which is to say, in the late 1980s
The nearby streetlights were glowing warmly on the new snow when a car I didn't recognize pulled up at the house next door as my family was eating supper. A medium-height, somewhat blocky man in a parka and boots and a woman even shorter and even more warmly dressed got out and went into their house.
I raised my eyebrows inquiringly, gesturing with my chin.
My mother said, "Oh, them? They're a nice couple. They moved in just after you left for college earlier this semester. What're their names, Frank?"
My father turned around in his chair to stare at the little one-story house next door, now lighting up room by room as the neighbors (presumably) shed their overcoats, turned up the heat, and sat down for some TV watching. It was almost as though he expected to somehow see their names written on the house if he stared hard enough.
"Jeffers? Jeffries? Jenkins? Something starting with jay-eee. I forget their first names. Nice people. Up from Florida, I believe."
(My parents, Frank and Carla, were in their 50s at the time and had obviously decided they were old, complete with the requisite memory loss.
"I suppose you'll meet them soon enough, [NCbear]," my mother said, "either now or over the summer break. You'll find out their names then."
These were the first new neighbors in several years, so I was of course intrigued, but only in a low-key kind of way--until I saw, later that night, a memorable image . . . .
I'd cleared the table, put the leftovers back in the fridge, run water over the plates and silverware, put them in the dishwasher, and gone upstairs to my room, which overlooked the new neighbors' house. Before closing the blinds and sitting down with a good novel, I casually looked out the window and down--and my breath caught.
They'd turned the blinds over their bathroom window the wrong way so that I could look down from my second-floor window and see the male half of the couple standing there, naked, toweling off after a shower. He was . . . stunning. I have no other word for the way I felt.
Medium height, he was broad-shouldered and muscular, olive-skinned, and very hairy. Each pectoral was crowned with a large dark red nipple that poked out of a mat of curling black hair covering most of his torso--even his shoulders and back, as I learned when he moved one way and then another to make sure he got dry. He looked like a cross between a wrestler, a bodybuilder, and a dwarf--not in the "genetic anomaly" sense but in the "hero of fantasy fiction" sense. Amazingly, his firm, tight, but twin-bubble-shaped behind was also dark with hair, and his legs were muscular and hairy as well.
But it was between his legs that I saw the real prize: a long, thick, cut cock that bobbed as he dried off, backed by two balls that from my vantage point looked to be the size of turkeys' eggs dangling nearly a third of the way down those muscular thighs.
The absolute best part? When he took some lotion and rubbed it into his dark-red cockhead, which was nearly the size of a tennis ball and shaped like a Stone Age warrior's helmet. He really rubbed that lotion into the glans, let me tell you! Thrusting his hips forward and back a few times as he did so. As I watched, unable to turn away, my pajama pants--insisted upon by my parents once my brothers and I hit puberty--became uncomfortably tight in one specific area.