This is the first of several chapters of a story about Peter and Joe, next door neighbors in Iowa whose long-time friendship undergoes an unexpected turn of events. No minors were harmed in the writing of this story, but if you are one you should go find something else to do. Please do not reproduce this story in any form without the permission of the author. Feedback welcomed and appreciated, so don't hold back!
-- Damian
PART 1
Everybody loves Joe Hartman. He's the jewel of the neighborhood. But he would be the last person to say so -- or even think so. To say that Joe is a humble man would be an understatement.
Joe and his wife Evelyn were the original residents of our neighborhood, having built their love nest before any of the other lots were even sold. It's in a prime location, in the 12 o'clock position of our circular cul-de-sac, with a front yard that has a slight elevation to it.
The neighborhood kids often use that slight rise to balance themselves on their bikes when they're learning to ride. With one foot on their left pedal and the other on Joe's raised front yard, they can screw up their courage and push off the hill with their left foot to gain some speed and -- with any luck -- keep their balance long enough to make at least one loop around the cul-de-sac before they collapse back on Joe's grassy hill. It's better than falling in the street.
Since he took early an retirement from his job at a local factory, Joe often sits out on a folding chair in his front yard -- surveying the goings-on in the circle and encouraging the kids as their confidence in bike riding increases. They all love Joe. Like I said, everyone does.
Joe is the go-to guy in the neighborhood. If you need to borrow a tool, Joe always has it and offers it. If a kid falls off his bike too hard, Joe always seems to have a band-aid in his pocket. If you need someone to pick up your mail or newspaper for a weekend -- or longer -- Joe is always happy to oblige. He is every kid's "grandpa" and every adult's best friend. You can't help but smile every time you see him wave or yell a greeting.
My name is Peter. When I moved in the neighborhood -- by myself -- I was 25 years old, and Joe was already in his early 40's I suppose. Now we're 20 years older. I never really asked him his age, but I'm sure he would've told me if I'd asked. Joe isn't one to be mysterious about anything.
I, on the other hand, tend to keep things to myself. I knew I was gay when I moved into the neighborhood, but I was so deep in the closet that you couldn't have found me with a flashlight. I'd been lured into marriage at only 20 years of age by my girlfriend at the time, Gwen, but the marriage didn't last more than a couple of years. My wife was frustrated with my inadequate and infrequent attempts at sex, and we parted amicably enough after she had had enough of my ineptitude and lack of interest in her.
I was embarrassed to be divorced at such an early age. Joe knew I was single, but he never pried into my private life. Sometimes I joined him in a lawn chair in his front yard -- alongside his faithful canine companion Rusty, a gentle golden retriever. We would have a beer or two and talk about anything except why I was single and living alone when all the other men in the neighborhood had wives and children.
I wasn't about to come out to anyone -- least of all to Joe and Evie. Even though I had figured out during my brief marriage to Gwen that my sexuality was the root cause of our marital problems, I never said anything to her about my interest in other men. We lived in a small town south of Des Moines, Iowa, and there were no opportunities for such activity that I knew about. So I just stifled my urges until the Internet came along to keep me entertained vicariously with its unending supply of images of the kind of person I yearned to see, touch, and love. That would be a person with a dick and two balls -- roughly half the population. Sigh...
Life on our cul-de-sac was kind of boring and predictable, but I was okay with that. It mirrored my life, such as it was. One day I noticed that Joe wasn't in his usual chair holding court on the front lawn. He wasn't the next day either, and by this time I was getting a little concerned. The weather was perfect, so I was sure he and Rusty would've been out there if everything had been all right.
Well, everything wasn't all right, as I discovered when I went over next door after work and rang his doorbell on the third day of not seeing him.
"Oh, hi, Peter," Joe said when he opened the door. I knew immediately that something was wrong -- the usual twinkle in his eye was missing, and he didn't smile.
"Is everything okay, Joe? I haven't seen you outside for a few days."
"Come in, Peter. Sit down."
Evie's smiling face would usually appear from the kitchen door whenever I came over, but today the house seemed strangely quiet.
"What's wrong, Joe? Where's Evie?"
"Evie's in the hospital, Peter. I found her on the kitchen floor three days ago. She'd had a heart attack. I was outside in my chair, so I have no idea how long she'd been there."
"Oh, Joe, I'm so sorry. How is she?"
"Not good, Peter. She's in the ICU on life support. I've been by her side as much as possible for the last three days, and I've come home only long enough to get some rest and give Rusty some food and overdue attention."
"Why didn't you call me, Joe?"
"Oh, you were busy with your job and all. I didn't want to bother anybody. I thought she'd recover and be back home before I had to tell anyone. I'm glad you're here -- it's sweet of you to check on us."
"Have you eaten anything, Joe? You don't look good. Can I fix you something?"
"I don't want to be any trouble. I was just going to heat up some soup. Can you stay?"
"Of course I can, Joe. Sit down and let me take care of you. After all you've done for me and everyone else the neighborhood, it's time we did something to help you for a change."
"You're a good man, Peter," he said, touching my hand and giving me a little smile. It was a special moment. I felt a surge of affection for this wonderful man.
Evelyn passed the next morning -- the third Saturday in May. Joe was alone with her when it happened. They had never had children, so he called me from the hospital and asked me for a ride home. He was too shook up and distressed to drive, and he knew it. I had never hugged Joe before, but he needed a hug when I saw him sitting there all alone in the hospital. He looked so pitiful and broken and was so grateful that I was able to come.
I spent the rest of the day with him, helping him make the necessary arrangements. He wasn't going to have a funeral, since he and Evie had no living close relatives -- only some cousins who lived overseas and wouldn't be able to come. Word got out in the cul-de-sac, and pretty soon neighbors were stopping by with donations of food. He was clearly overwhelmed with the display of kindness, but he had earned every bit of it with his neighborliness over the years.
Joe wasn't a religious man and he didn't want a fuss made over the situation, so he buried Evie in the local cemetery with just a few friends and neighbors in attendance. I took him by the arm and walked with him, and he held onto me gratefully.
Over the next few months, Joe and I spent a lot more time together. He didn't need a lot of help, being in good health himself, but he was lonely after nearly 40 years with Evie and he appreciated being invited to dinner at my house once a week or so. Often he would reciprocate and he'd barbecue something out back for us to eat together.
We would then play some gin rummy or watch a movie or a detective show on TV before retiring to our separate houses. When I would leave, Joe would pat me on the arm or squeeze my shoulder in a display of sincere affection. I had never felt comfortable with such displays, so I would just give him a nice smile and say good night. Still...whenever he touched me in any way I enjoyed it. I loved the guy...in my own crazy way.
Joe was not old enough to be a father figure for me, but I regarded him as a sort of big brother, I guess -- someone I looked up to and wanted to learn from. I always admired how he engendered such trust and love from the other neighbors by just being himself. I wanted to be that way, too, but I had little in the way of self confidence or people skills.
As time went on, Joe and I became more casual with each other -- not bothering to knock and just walking into each other's house if we were expected. One Sunday afternoon in early November I was getting ready to have him over for dinner. I was expecting him at the usual 5 p.m. for a pre-dinner drink. But at 4 p.m., as I was shaving -- I tend to shower and shave late on weekends -- I looked in the mirror and saw Joe's face at the door. I'm not sure who was more surprised.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Peter. I guess you didn't hear me come in. I called your name, but you didn't answer."
He startled me so much that the towel that had been loosely tied around my waist fell to the floor, leaving me with nothing on but a face full of shaving cream. Joe looked as startled as I was -- sort of a deer-in-the-headlights look -- but that didn't stop him from scanning my naked body from head to toe and back again.
"Um, that's okay, Joe -- I just wasn't expecting you till 5, as usual."
"It is 5, isn't it?" he said, glancing at his watch.
"Didn't you set your clocks back an hour last night? Daylight Saving Time is off now, you know."
"Oh, I totally forgot! No wonder you weren't dressed yet. Sorry, Peter."
I don't know why I hadn't retrieved my towel from the floor yet, but I guess I didn't want to appear overly prudish. After all, Joe had been my best friend now for quite some time. And I had to admit that I felt a little thrill from being completely exposed to him for the first time ever. I had chubbed up a bit and felt Joe's eyes on my cock. He noticed it, no doubt.
Maybe this would be a good time to tell you what Joe was seeing. For a guy in his 40's, I'm pretty lean and fit. I try to watch what I eat, and I work out some. I'm 6'1", 180 lbs., short brown hair going a little gray already, hazel eyes, hairy chest, 7 inches cut, okay face with no facial hair. I don't turn heads on the street, but I think I look okay. Of course, that's my lack of self confidence speaking, I guess.
Joe looks pretty good, too, for a guy in his early 60's. He's shorter than I am -- about 5'10" -- weighs about 165, thick head of white hair, blue eyes, genial-looking face. That's as much as I'd seen, and about all I ever expected to see. Damn, why's he still looking at me like that? He's straight as an arrow -- isn't he?
"Why don't you grab a beer and wait for me in the kitchen, Joe? There're some chips and nuts on the counter."
I turned back to face the mirror to finish shaving, and I noticed in the mirror that Joe was now looking at my ass. He slowly turned and walked toward the kitchen. I was shaking. What could he be thinking now? Twenty years we've been neighbors and friends and this was the first time he'd seen me naked. By the time I finished shaving, I was hard as a rock. I was glad Joe had stepped away -- or was I?
Frankly, I had to admit to myself that it had turned me on for him to catch me that way. I knew my dick wouldn't go down until I took care of matters. I closed the bathroom door and then squirted some shaving cream in my hand and gently applied it to my rock-hard erection -- God, did that ever feel good! I closed my eyes and imagined that Joe was still at the door watching me as I stroked myself rapidly. I came in no time -- four or five very intense blasts. I felt weak in the knees and had to catch my breath before I could go to my room and find some clothes to put on.
Conversation was a little awkward that evening, as you might imagine. Joe seemed pre-occupied, and I was just plain embarrassed at my unplanned display of nudity. But we tried to carry on as if it were any other night. We watched a little TV together after we ate. When he left to go home about 8:30 -- he said he was tired -- I put my hand on his shoulder at the door, which is something I'd rarely if ever done.
Joe turned to me. "Peter, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you earlier. I shouldn't have come in on you like that when you didn't have any clothes on."
"That's okay, Joe -- it's no big deal. Maybe I'll come over early tomorrow and catch you the same way." I just laughed, but Joe only smiled weakly.
"I guess that would settle the score, wouldn't it?" he said.
This time it was my turn to smile weakly. Was he serious? Why was I suddenly turned on at the thought of catching Joe in the nude? I'd never really thought about him in a sexual way before. Had he enjoyed what happened earlier tonight? As much as I had? He squeezed my arm and made his way out the door.
I made myself another drink and turned off the TV, sitting down in my easy chair and contemplating all this. Suddenly I felt very alone. And aroused. I never jack off more than once in a day, but my erection had returned in full force and would not be denied. I ripped my clothes off, pushed back in my recliner, and pleasured myself for the second time in four hours. I felt like a horny teenager again, as the ropes of cum shot out of my steel-hard cock onto my chest. I had shot as much cum in the last four hours as I normally do in a whole week.
After I came down from my high, I cleaned myself up, picked my clothes up off the floor, and turned out the lights to go to bed. Just then I noticed that in my sexual frenzy I had not pulled the shade down in the window facing Joe's house. Had he witnessed this brazen display from the darkness of his own house? Was it wrong of me to hope so...just a little?
I went to bed confused and frightened. But also expectant -- of what? I thought about Joe and what had happened in my bathroom earlier. And about what had just happened in my recliner.
Why did I feel this way? What did it mean?
(To be continued very soon. Let me know what you think of my story so far. Please give me your first name and location, if you would. To deal with spam I delete messages that don't have something in the subject line. Send your feedback to nvtahoeus@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading my story! Damian)