From Lust to Love E-Book

Mike Hicks

• Herausgeber: Bruno Gmünder Verlag
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 296

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

They meet at the bar. Or in the shower at the gym. And there's an instant connection. An unmistakable desire. He'll do for tonight, each thinks. But yet there's a spark of something more, something beyond passion. Something neither will admit they've been longing for. Could this be their last one-nighter? What happens when a casual hook-up satisfies your ultimate craving? That's when you go from lust to love …

Leseprobe

Contents

Preface

100 Percent

Just a Trick

Twinkproof

The Phone Fetish

Matthew in the Mist

Lucky Me

Adultery

Horse-Hung Confidential

Man of the House

Private Dancer

Good Neighbor Policy

Baby Makes Three

Tom, Dick. Hairy

Lord of Longwood Manor

Dexter Adams Is a Slut

Bunk Beds

You’re Every Man

Pickup on Route 66

Head of the Class

My Librarian

The Good-Bye

About the Author

About the Book

Impressum

More Books

Preface

My husband likes to joke that I saw his pussy before I ever saw his face, but the truth is … well, let’s just say it’s no joke.

That first peek at his nether parts that Kyle refers to occurred in the backroom of the Ramrod on June 4, 1999 (I wrote down the date), around two a.m. He was on his hands and knees on a padded bench, taking it hard up the ass from a guy who, in the dark, looked a good deal like Michael Fassbender, at least from where I stood behind him waiting my turn. The Fassbender look-alike finished with a grunt, peeled off and discarded the condom, and headed toward the exit, pulling up his pants as he wandered off. Kyle reached back and spread his cheeks open for the next taker, yours truly. I rubbered up and squirted a glob of lube on his quivering little cookie, then rested my cock head on it.

“Do it,” he ordered.

I entered him in a single, slow stroke, accompanied by the sound effects of gasping and whimpering coming from every corner of that dungeon-like space.

To note that it was an exceptionally good fuck seems almost beside the point all these years later, because the important thing is what happened halfway through it. I can’t say what inspired me to pull out and flip him over on his back to go at it missionary-style, but that’s what I did. And that’s when our eyes met. Hell if something didn’t start to happen with that glance, something I couldn’t control. Just like in all those pop songs I used to think were bullshit. I pulled up his haunches, reentered him, and started the old in-and-out—but the rest of that fuck was different. Some sort of connection had happened, whether I wanted it or not. And I sure as hell hadn’t been looking for it. By the time we were basted with each other’s sperm a few minutes later, I was a changed man. Though I wouldn’t have said it out loud back then, I guess I was in love. I cleaned him off, learned his name, and took him home. He never left.

Looking back at the years of extreme sexual adventuring both of us had indulged in up to that point, and considering that neither of us was even remotely “relationship-oriented,” as they put it, it may be hard to believe that Kyle and I have been together—and monogamous to boot—ever since that night. Hell, it’s hard for me to believe. But that’s what happened. Cupid made a side trip to a cum-soaked orgy room and played a trick on a couple of unlikely and unsuspecting victims. When marriage became legal in Massachusetts, we were among the first in line at the courthouse. Thanks, Cupid.

This unexpected relationship also had an unexpected effect on my erotic writing. Meaningful love started finding its way into my stories more and more along with the meaningless sex. This collection is focused on my stories that showcase that special combination of raunch and romance. You’ll find a whole range of different men and situations represented here, but I’ll let you in on a secret: Kyle was the inspiration for them all.

I’d like to thank Winston Gieseke, who had the original idea for this collection and who expertly saw it through to publication, wading through a daunting sea of smut in the process.

And I’d like to dedicate this to Kyle. It was indeed your butt that originally piqued my interest, but I fell in love with all the rest soon after.

Mike Hicks

April 2014

Boston, Massachusetts

100 Percent

The cell phone on the nightstand ripped me into consciousness with an annoying jolt. I let it buzz a few times before I groped for it to check who the caller was: Tom. Fuck. I pressed the button. “Yeah, Tom. What’s up?” He paused a minute like he was shy. I guess he is, sort of. “You there, Tom?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m just about a block away. I wondered …”

“Wondered what? Do you know what fucking time it is?”

“Yeah, I know. Three a.m. I just thought if you weren’t doing anything, maybe we could …”

“Tom—I gotta get up for work at six-thirty.”

“Come on,” he said, then lowered his voice to an unnecessary whisper. “You’ll like it. Hey, I’m outside right now—in front of your house. Why don’t I just park and come on up for a few? I haven’t got off in four whole days … you know how it is when I haven’t shot in that long …”

Yeah, I knew. There was no question that I loved servicing Tom’s big dick, but I had a shitload of work waiting for me at the office the next day. I reached below the waistband of my boxers to touch the tip of my own stiffening penis while I considered it. “Oh, what the hell,” I said, caving in as usual. “All right, come on up. But don’t knock, you’ll wake the neighbors.”

“All right!” I heard the beep of his hanging up.

I slipped out of my T-shirt and shorts and padded into the bathroom with my boner wagging back and forth like a dog’s tail. I gargled a shot of mouthwash and checked myself out in the mirror. Thought about combing my hair but then decided the disheveled look worked for me. I flexed my deltoids. They were getting just about as big as I wanted them, though I realized they’d be wasted on a guy like Tom. Tom’s looks, on the other hand, weren’t wasted on me a bit: He was a six-foot-four walking wet dream with curly black hair and biceps I could lick for days if I ever got the chance. Though I knew I’d never have a chance. Straight guys aren’t into having their arms licked.

See, Tom’s got the biggest cock you’ve probably ever seen—biggest one I’ve ever seen, anyway—and I’m one of those rare guys with the God-given ability to deep-throat a piece like that. Lucky me. And lucky him, frankly. I’m one hundred percent certain his girlfriend has never been able to satisfy him orally, which is why he likes to drop by at unexpected hours. As for me, apart from the charge of getting my throat stretched by such a huge number, I get turned on in general by straight guys who have gay sex on the sly. It’s kinda my specialty. Occasionally you get one who thinks he wants to take it a step beyond a cordial blow job and maybe “get to know” me, as they sometimes say, but experience has taught me not to go there. Those guys are just confused, that’s all. Going out with them is a bad idea.

I went to the door and got on my knees as soon as I heard his creaking steps on the stairs. I opened it when he reached the landing. His crotch was right at my eye level, that enormous erection strapped to the inside of his right thigh by the tight denim of his jeans. There was no way poor Tom could ever hide his arousal.

His face lit up when he saw me in the kneeling position. He slipped off his leather jacket, moved inside, and closed the door. I put my mouth on the tip of his cock through the denim and began licking. He squirmed a bit and went to unbuckle his belt. I stopped him and put his hands behind his back, then finished undoing the buckle myself. I held his nuts tight through the fabric while I unzipped him. A clump of his fragrant black bush popped out of the fly. No time to put on underwear, I guessed. I pulled his jeans down further and the thick rod sprang up with a boinggg and hit me in the face.

“Ow!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Can you see I missed you?” He chuckled and, without hesitating, directed the hard swollen head down to my lips. I grabbed a handful of his ball sac and held it while I let my tongue tease the big flesh apple, tasting a bit of salty slime in the slit. “Suck it, man,” he said. “Suck it … Mike … oh, suck it …”

I opened wide and took the head in my mouth, then continued down about halfway, bobbing up and down to my gag reflex and back, enjoying the feeling of my mouth filled with hard Tom-flesh. “Yeah … yeah …” he whispered, the articulate bastard.

I let the monster slip out for moment and looked up at his handsome face. He always looked a little rough. Seemed like he had a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, no matter what time of day it was. I wondered what he did for a living.

“OK, buddy,” I said, “Come on over here.” I crawled over in front of the easy chair he liked. He followed me, then kicked off his shoes and pants and relaxed back on to the chair with his legs spread wide and his nuts resting against the cushion. I brought my face down to them and took a deep breath before kissing the left one, then the right. I took the bone in my hand while I planted gentle kisses over the low-hanging sac, feeling his cock’s surge each time my lips touched the skin of his scrotum. He held the back of my head and shoved my face into the smelly nuts. I didn’t resist. He held me there.

I could have stayed there until I suffocated on his randy smell, but he had other ideas. He pulled my head up to put my mouth back on the head. It was oozing Tom juice at that point, and I did my hungry puppy imitation on it before getting back to what he needed me for. I went down the shaft slowly till I got to the difficult point. He pressed a little on my head to help me get me past it—a littler gentler than most horny straight guys, I’d have to say—and I felt his fleshy girth press past the point of no return and then on deep into my gullet.

He let out a little cry. “Oh … baby,” he squealed. Don’t know where that “baby” shit came from, but I wasn’t sure I liked it.

Once I got my throat open, I gave him the milking he came for, taking the entire length all the way each stroke, getting a whiff of his semen-scented bush on the down gulp and a taste of his salty juice as I gave suction to the head on the upstroke. When I got going on him and the rhythm was set, the whole world was Tom’s big cock.

He let out a series of sexy, unintelligible guttural tones while he caressed the back of my bobbing head. Then he got verbal again. “Oh, Mike … Mike … baby …” Again with the baby shit. “Baby, I … lo—”

I didn’t want to hear it, so I reached quickly under his nuts, found his asshole in the hair of his crack, and thrust my finger into him hard. It shut him up immediately. His sphincter pulsed on my finger a couple times hard.

He pulled my mouth off his dick and turned me over onto my hands and knees. I felt him run his fingers over my buttocks. Seemed like he wanted to fuck me again, which was a surprise. I’d finally let him up my ass last time after weeks of his begging for it. Most straight guys don’t even want to get near the pink starfish, so I figured once would be enough to break him of his back-door curiosity. But apparently not. His finger probed my crack for what he was looking for. I let out a little “yeah” when he hit the spot to help him out. He stuck his finger in me to make sure he’d found the place. I clenched it. I heard him sigh, then I heard the sound of him fumbling in his jeans for a condom with his free hand. He kept finger-fucking me while he unwrapped it and sheathed himself in it, all with one hand. That must be a skill straight guys pick up with their girlfriends.

I felt something much larger pressing against my nether entrance.

“Go easy, man—” I said, “please. I don’t wanna get hurt like last time.”

“Sorry about that,” he said sweetly. I felt him bend down and then felt his lips on my left shoulder. Then my right. Kisses? Whatever. The pressure on my asshole intensified. I pressed it out to welcome him in, and felt the glorious sensation of being slowly filled up by that monumental piece of meat. “Yeah, Tom, stick it in me,” I said. “Fuck me, man … fuck me Tommy …”

He rocked in and out just an inch or so. “Is that OK?”

“Yes!” I screamed. “It’s OK! Fuck me! Fuck Me! Fuck me!”

He plunged the whole thing in hard. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Yeah, like that!” I screamed. “Harder!” I bit my lip from the pain that I didn’t want to stop. There was a delirious joy of relief each time he pulled out, and then, instantly, a sharp jab of pleasure-pain as he filled me up again.

He forced out a few words between grunts: “Am … I … hurting you …?”

It felt like a fencepost up my ass tearing the crap out of my guts. I lied: “No … it’s … fine … Keep going.” I brought my ass back to meet each of his thrusts.

He must have fucked me for twenty minutes before I felt him pull out. He flipped me over on my back and stood up, planting one of his huge feet on either side of my hips. He rolled the rubber off his prick and let it drop onto the sweat on my chest, then started jacking himself, eyeing me up and down in a way most of these guys don’t usually do. His cock head swelled up huge and purple. I started stroking in rhythm with him. He locked eyes with me as a little gob of pure white semen appeared on the head of his dick and fell to make a bull’s-eye of my navel. That was the preview. He clenched his ass as stringy wads of cum started spurting out of him, coating my chest and face with his warm and aromatic jism. Each time it seemed like he was finished, another shot spurted out. After milking out the few final drops, he shook it off, and smiled. “Now you.”

He brought one foot up to my belly button and played in the pool of his warm juices there, then moved his toes slowly through the hot slime up to my right nipple. He grabbed it between his big and second toes and pinched. I gasped. My own load squirted up over my head in three staccato spasms, hitting the wall behind me with a splat.

He grinned and wagged his half-erect flesh bone back and forth over me. A single drop still glistened in the slit. “Thanks,” he chuckled, “I needed that.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

He reached down and picked the gooey condom from my belly and headed into the bathroom to throw it away. I figured he’d sponge off and split and I’d get a couple hours more sleep. But he was back in a few seconds carrying a clean towel. He sat down on the floor beside me and started carefully wiping the biggest gobs off first.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Just cleaning you up a little bit.” He brought the towel up my torso slowly. “I made a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower after you’re gone.”

“But I want to.” He was persistent.

“Well, I guess it’s OK. Thanks.”

“No prob.” He blotted up a few drops that had puddled in the hollow between my pecs. “So, do you wanna go out with me sometime? Dinner or something?”

I sighed. “Look, you asked me that last time and the time before. The answer’s still no. I don’t date straight men.”

“I know you said that, but what if I’m not exactly straight—what if I’m, like, bi?”

“I don’t date bi.”

“Well, what if I’m—what do they call it—‘questioning’?”

“I don’t date ‘questioning.’ Look, it’s nothing personal, Tom. It’s just that I’ve learned it never works to date a man who’s not gay—one hundred percent. Sex is fine …” I looked down at his prick lying sluggish and soft against his thigh, “… even great. But anything beyond that is a bad idea. Why don’t you take your girlfriend out?”

“I broke up with her,” he said. He finished the job, wadded up the towel, placed it beside me on the floor, and pulled on his pants. He was pouting. He slipped on his shoes and pulled on his shirt and jacket. He stood for a moment by the door and looked at me. “I wish I knew what I had to do to convince you that I’m serious about this.”

And just like that he was out the door.

“I’ll believe you’re serious when you suck my cock,” I called after him. But I’m not sure he heard it. I brought the cum-dampened towel to my face and inhaled his scent. I fell asleep there on the floor holding it against my cheek.

A couple hours later when the alarm went off in the bedroom I didn’t hear it, and so I was late for work.

It was nine p.m. when I finally hauled my dog-tired ass up the stairs that night. I slipped off my jacket and tie, tossed them carelessly on a chair just inside the front door, and got myself a beer from the fridge. I then took off my shirt and flopped down in front of the TV. I was reaching for the remote when I heard a knock at the door. I thought about ignoring it but figured I’d at least check out who it was through the peephole before I decided whether or not to answer. I padded over to put my eye to the tiny opening.

It was Tom. He looked different than usual, even through the fish-eye lens. He had on a suit of all things—and, hell, it looked like he might even have shaved. I undid the latch and opened the door. The motherfucker was actually holding a bouquet of red roses. He smiled shyly. He looked good.

“What are you doing here, Tom?” I asked.

He ignored the question. “These are for you,” he said, handing me the flowers.

“Well … thanks … I … why?”

“Because I want you to go out with me,” he said.

“But …”

“Shut up and listen to me for a minute—” He looked me straight in the eye. “I’m here to tell you,” he gulped, “that I’m not straight. And I’m not bi either.” He dropped to his knees right on the landing and reached to undo my belt. “And I’m not questioning.” He unzipped my slacks and reached in. I was so hard already that he had to struggle to get the erection out of my briefs. A drop of honey hung from the quivering tip.

“Well,” I said tentatively, “then what are you?”

“I’m gay,” he said. “One hundred percent gay.” He held my cock against his freshly shaven cheek. “And I’m gonna suck your cock right here on the landing until you say you’ll go out with me.” He kissed the tip. “On a date. I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie. You can pick the movie.” He took the head in his mouth and sucked, halted when he seemed surprised by the taste, then went on down as far as he could take it.

I let him make a couple furtive strokes before I came to my senses. “Not here, Tom … come inside … the neighbors …” I made a move backward but he didn’t budge.

He looked up at me. “Not until you say you’ll go out with me. I don’t care who sees me.” He went back to it. It was amateurish. It was sweet.

It was hot.

He had me.

“OK … OK,” I said, “Come inside. I believe you.” He didn’t stop. “I’ll go on a date with you, Tom. To tell you the truth … I’d like that very much.” The corners of his lips curled into what would have been a smile if he hadn’t had his mouth full of prick. “Just … please come inside.”

He walked forward on his knees as I backed up, keeping suction all the way. I closed the door behind us and still he sucked. I had to pull him off it. The spit-coated boner popped out and rested on his chin.

“Sorry I misjudged you, Tom. I guess I’ve just never met a guy like you before. Let’s get to know each other. For real.” I ran my fingers through his curls. “But, hey, my friend, you’ve got a lot left to learn when it comes to cock sucking.”

He locked his big brown eyes on mine and smiled. “Give me a break, all right? I’m just a beginner.” He kissed it sweetly on the head, the way a beginner doesn’t usually think to do. “Guess I’ll be needing some lessons. You wouldn’t want to be my teacher, would you?” His smile was wicked and sweet at the same time.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, directing his lips back on to my shaft, “I think that can be arranged. Oh … yeah …”

Just a Trick

His tongue on my left nut wakes me up. Startles me. I’ve forgotten he spent the night. The tender licking against the heat of my thick-skinned sac, then the warmer sensation of his lips, then a gentle suction drawing the ball carefully into his mouth. He knows I have to be awake at this point, but I keep my eyes closed, playing into any fantasy he might have of blowing a sleeping stud. Hell, playing into my fantasy of the same scene. His tongue makes circling motions, and then a few careful nibbles. He’s good. I realize that with all the nasty we did last night he hadn’t put his mouth on my dick beyond a brief kiss to the tip. I relax, letting him enjoy it. I’ve known him for about ten hours altogether—all but five minutes of that time spent in bed.

I’d heard his footsteps behind me as I walked home from work last night about eight. They continued steadily enough that it had me worried I was being followed, but I kept my paranoia in check. I’m new to the neighborhood yet and unused to its sights and sounds. Still the sound of the footsteps continued. When I turned to go up the steps to my building, I heard them stop. And as I took out my keys at the top I heard them start up the steps behind me. I gulped and turned to see who it was.

It was a relief that he didn’t look threatening. In fact, he looked hot. That handsome square-jawed look that a little five-o’clock shadow (eight o’clock shadow?) only enhanced. Dark hair and full, sensuous lips. Obviously muscular pecs and shoulders strained against the fabric of his oxford shirt. He’d loosened his tie and slung his suit jacket over his shoulder. Somehow he didn’t seem to me like the kind of guy who’d cruise another guy on the street so openly. But what do I know?

He looked me straight in the eye. Boldly. “You live here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “But I just moved in two days ago.”

“New to the area, then?” A broad smile dawned on his face that so plainly acknowledged the attraction between us that I started to get hard.

“Yeah. Just moved to town to start this new job.” I couldn’t help smiling back. “You … um … wanna come up for a bit?”

He nodded. I opened the door and led him up to the second-floor landing and on into my apartment. We were barely inside when he took my hand and placed it against the warm stiffness in his crotch. I ran my fingers against the length of his erection through the cloth. Nice. He reached for mine. I fumbled with his zipper and belt and let his pants drop to his knees. He slipped off the briefs. His fat prick sprung out at a sharp upward angle. Dark meat. He winced with pleasure when I touched it. I kept eye contact as I grabbed his cock like a handle to pull him down the hall and into the bedroom, his pants down at his ankles slowing him down a bit. He shut the door behind me and shoved me up against it, ripping open my shirt and holding me hard by the shoulders as his mouth went down for my right nipple first, sucking on it like it was his dinner. I guided him to the left one and let him nurse there while I slipped my shirt all the way off and shed my slacks. Somehow he was able to step out of his own pants and drop his shirt while he munched the fur of my chest. I went down on my knees.

His smell was strong and distinctive—a heady male scent mixed with the bare hint of some cologne that must’ve gone on early that morning. The plump head was a little too large proportionately for the shaft of flesh. A drop of sap was collecting on it. I looked up at him and smiled before licking it off. Extra salty. I sucked hard on it trying to get another drop out of him. I felt him put his hand on the back of my head to let me know he was ready to be blown. The meaty flesh popped into my mouth where I felt it pulse and swell.

“Yeah, buddy,” he moaned. “That’s it.”

I savored the heat of it as I inched my mouth down the shaft, enjoying its veiny texture too, and the smell that only got stronger the closer I got to the dense patch of hair around the base. When I saw I could get the whole thing down in a gulp I eased off it a bit and then went back down again, getting the blow job going in earnest. While I bobbed up and down his skin pole, I let my fingers explore under his sac. His nuts were already drawn up close to his body, firm and hard. Tickling the little hairs that covered them made him twitch and moan, so I kept it up while I deep-throated him. The big plum of his cock head strained my throat, but I held him down there, egged on by his encouraging grunts and “yeah, baby”s. He sat down on the edge of the bed. I looked up, my mouth too full of him to speak. He grinned. “I’m Tony, by the way.”

I kept my eyes on his as I slowly worked his turgid piece out of my throat. It sprung up almost vertical. “Dave,” I said. He reached down and wiped a bit of the saliva off my chin, then licked it off his finger.

He laid back on the bed, raised his legs in the air and held each thigh up with one of his strong hands so that his crack was in front of my face. He pulled his cheeks apart until the little pink dot grew larger. I dove right in. I kissed its wet silkiness, licked it up and down and across as he twitched it, then drove my tongue as deep in as I could. He held the back of my head while I ate him, caressing my hair, moaning all the while. I backed off a bit and put my middle fingertip against his hole.

“Yeah …” he rasped. Yeah … buddy … yeah, Dave …”

I applied pressure till it popped in, then finger-fucked him in rhythm with his breathy moans, driving it in to the second knuckle before adding a second finger and getting him used to that. He winced when I got the third one into him. “You need to get used to it, buddy,” I said, “I’m thick …”

He nodded to let me know it was OK. I stood, grabbed a rubber from the nightstand, and handed it to him. He got his first look at my erection waving over his chest in front of him. Like I said, I’m pretty thick, and if guys aren’t used to it, it can scare ’em. But he didn’t seem put off. He grabbed it and pulled me toward him so that I was straddling his chest, then he bit off the tip of the plastic square and rolled the condom over my bone. He kissed the tip and then grabbed his haunches again. I moved back into position. I’d swear there was some kind of electric charge between my cock head and his asshole, a subtle exchange of energy that made my dick surge hard every couple seconds and his pucker twitch. I went with the feeling for a while, touching the tip to his entrance, and then backing up without sticking it in, watching him twitch even faster when I took it away, his aching grunts finally giving way to words: “Stick it in! Come on, friend, Stick it in!”

He braced himself, and I obliged. All in one push. He let out a little scream, then a deep breath as I slowly pulled almost out and dug into his guts again. His grimace turned into a grin after a few thrusts. I took hold of his thighs so he could get his hands free. He used them to reach for my nipples and twist them. That sent me right over the edge and on into paradise. I came inside him on an inward fuck, then pulled out and rolled off the rubber. My hot seed spilled onto his belly, clinging in big gobs to the little hairs. I stuck my fingers back in him—a looser fit this time—and fucked him with them while he jerked himself off. He came with one big squirt that caught him on the cheek and ran down the side of his neck.

I collapsed on to the bed beside him, and we lay there quietly as our breathing returned to normal. When I turned to look I caught him looking back at me, smiling. He pulled my mouth to his. His lips were soft and pleasantly hot. Our tongues found each other. We kissed a long time. I liked it.

He surprised me by asking if he could sleep over. I surprised myself by saying sure. I never do that. But something about this made it seem like more than a trick to me. He kissed his way down my stomach to my softening dick and lay his head on my thigh, nuzzling my sagging scrotum. I ran my fingers through his hair and let my hand rest there on the back of his head. We fell asleep like that.

Like I said, he knows I have to be awake at this point, but I keep my eyes closed, playing into any fantasy he might have of blowing a sleeping stud. I feel him lick his way over to the right ball, then starting at the bottom of the erect shaft, he runs his wet tongue up the length to the tip, pausing to suck on my piss slit.

I open my eyes. He’s looking up at me with a silly grin. Wiggles his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. Funny guy. He encloses the entire head in the warmth of his mouth, then shows me how he deep-throats. His throat becomes a tight sleeve for my prick, an exceptionally good fit. Like the right lock for a key. He moves up and down the shaft, saliva dripping, his mouth messy and wet. He makes his lips a tight little circle, and I feel him increase the suction every time he reaches the tip. He seems to sense when I’m close—he increases the pace, and then does one last swallow, holding my entire length down there while I shoot, his throat muscles holding me tight as I give him my semen. He stays like that for a while, then works his mouth off of me. My semi-erection drops to the side. He rests his face against it and looks up at me. “Good morning.”

We both laugh. “Good morning, beautiful,” I say. “Sleep OK?”

“Like a log. Felt good to be here.”

“Felt good to have you here.”

“Thanks.” He rises to grab his pants.

“Hey—can I make you some breakfast?”

He pulls on his shirt and buttons it. “I just had mine,” he says, casting a glance down at my crotch. He zips up his pants and puts on his shoes and socks.

“At least some coffee?”

“No time. Gotta get to work.” His manner seems to have changed suddenly. No hint of the guy I snuggled up against all night. The transformation weirds me out a bit.

“Well, take my phone number, anyway.” I scramble for a scrap of paper, jot it down, and hand it to him.

“Sure,” he says while pulling on his jacket. He stuffs the paper into his pocket and gives me a peck on the forehead. “I’ll find my own way out.” I watch him disappear out the bedroom door without looking back.

“Hey, Tony … wait …” But I hear the outer door close behind him.

I don’t get it. Maybe I misread what was going on last night. His behavior is just weird.

Figure I’ll do my run. I hop out of bed and pull on my jockstrap, shorts, and running shoes. I crack the blinds enough to see that it’s sunny enough that I can run shirtless. I head out the door and down the steps to the front stoop. I’m just getting into my leg stretches when I notice something lying on the cement. A crumpled piece of paper. I pick it up. It’s the phone number I just gave him. Didn’t take him very fucking long to wad it up and throw it away. Asshole. I try to do the mental shrug-off about him, but the frustration doesn’t shake easily.

Suddenly I don’t feel much like running.

I pull the key out of my shoe, unlock the door, and head back in, stopping to check the mail before going upstairs. I hear a door open behind me and someone clearing his throat like he’s trying to get my attention. I look around and see—Tony.

“Hi …” he says, “… neighbor.”

“Wha …?”

“I said, hi neighbor. You really should get to know the people in your building, you know. They can be interesting sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you lived downstairs?

“Oh, I dunno,” he says. “My mother always told me not to talk with my mouth full …”

I laugh.

“Plus I thought it’d be cool to have a little fun with you. Just a little trick. Is that OK?”

“Yeah, it’s OK. You really had me.” I’m still laughing. “But honestly, I’d say it was more than just a trick.”

He puts his fingers to my chest and tickles the hairs. “I’d say so, too,” he whispers.