A Korean dude, probably in his mid-30s, moved into the house across the street. When I see him, he’s always in a button-down shirt with a tie, form-fitting dress pants, with short hair, bangs spiked in the front. He’s in good shape and has a slightly cocky air about him. Although I see a lot of good-looking dudes when I’m on the bus, at school and at the mall where I work, for some reason, I find him the perfect male specimen.
From my bedroom window, I’ve heard him on his smartphone as he sits on his porch smoking a cigarette, talking in both English and Korean.
I’m eighteen, finishing up high school, and live with my parents here in Bellevue, WA. Both my parents and I agree it’s weird that a single man bought a whole house for himself. In the evenings when he pulls into his driveway in his expensive BMW, I peek out my window as he gathers his things and goes inside. I imagine the first thing he does is strip off his work clothes and open a beer.
I think of his probably perfectly smooth chest, him lounging in his underwear, watching a flick. At night when I’m playing with my dick before sleep, I imagine laying my head on his chest, basking in his masculinity. Then, when I fantasize about his underwear slipping down and all the expectations a man like him would have, I shoot my load into a dirty sock.
He’s a total mystery.
One day, I’m skateboarding home from my weekend job at the mall. The dude, decked in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms is taking out his trash. As I take in my first glimpse of my crush in casual clothes and his nicely shaped arms, I see that he’s also staring at me. A blush comes to my face and I stupidly almost miss my house, making a sharp right turn to compensate. I jump off my skateboard, too shy to look back to see if he’s still watching.
Well, at least now he knows who lives across the street.
That night I try to piece together the scant details I have. He probably did what his parents wanted their son to do: get a nice degree and job and rake in the dough. Just like what my parents want me to do, although I’m gonna start out at Bellevue Community College next year since I didn’t apply to any 4-years. The dude has even bought a house, but so far has failed to find a nice, pretty girl to share it with, and make babies. Then again, he lives alone, so maybe he’s gay.
The following week as I’m walking home from school, I catch him popping open his trunk in his usual business attire. He leans into the trunk, and when I see the contours of his backside in beige dress pants, I bite my lip.
I see that he has several bags of groceries, which gives me a reason to approach. “Need some help?” I ask him.
He turns to me with a baffled look, as if I interrupted important thoughts.
“I live across the street,” I tell him, pointing back at my house, and notice the lawn needs mowed.
His expression softens as he sets down a couple bags. “That was you the other day on the skateboard, right?” he asks. I nod as he gives me a firm handshake. “Sorry I have not come over yet and introduced myself. I’m Yeon-seok, but you can call me Yeon.”
We hold the handshake longer than customary, and when I look into his eyes for traces of gayness, he stares back questioningly.
I pull my hand. “I’m Justin. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…” I laugh nervously. “I’m wondering if you’re gay. You know, since you have this big house and all, but live alone.”
An amused look comes to his face. “How old are you, Justin?”
He smirks. “So, the slippery slope is true. The youth come on to the adults now.”
My brows furrow with annoyance. “I’m not coming on to you. I’m just asking if you’re gay. I’m gay, so don’t think of it as an insult.”
“Coming on to me…asking if I’m gay. Is there a difference?” the dude asks.
“A big difference!” I tell him. Frustrated, I turn away, muttering, “This isn’t going the way I’d hoped.”
“How did you hope it would go?”
“It was nice to meet you, too.” I put my hand up as a parting wave. I turn toward my own house.
“Listen, Justin…” he says from behind me. “Tonight I will leave my door unlocked. I hope you’ll come over because there is something I want to ask you.”
That night I find myself growing horny at the short, but confusing conversation I had with my neighbor. His deep voice plays over and over in my mind, and his proposition that I sneak over to his house is mysterious yet straightforward. It’s becoming more and more tempting as I look out my bedroom window at his front door.
His porch light is off, a sign that he’s giving me discreet passage. I figure that nothing bad would happen if I do go over. The dude is probably gay, but his upbringing makes it hard for him to come to terms with it, so I bet he’s inviting me over for a friendly conversation about what it’s like for me to be at terms with my gayness.
Still in my jeans and shirt from the day, I make sure my parents are asleep before I creep out of the house, across the street and up the dude’s dark driveway. I slowly open his front door to find the lights off in the entryway.
“Hello?” I say, as freaked-out second thoughts enter my head.
“I’m in here,” Yeon says from a lit side room. I go to the doorway and find him at a desk in front of a laptop. He’s wearing a grey, fitted V-neck T-shirt and black boxer-briefs, his bangs unspiked like he just showered and his hair dried naturally, while his mostly hairless legs are crossed on the chair. Then I notice his arm is laid across his lap in a bad attempt to hide an erection.
“Looks like I caught you in the middle of something,” I joke.
He smiles, and shuts the laptop, and spins his chair to me, uncovering his groin like there’s no point in hiding it now. I force myself not to look. He grabs for a hand-grip device on the desk, the kind that you squeeze to strengthen your hands, which explains his firm handshake. “So…Justin,” he says. ” I wanted to ask you something.”
“Let me guess.” I lean against the door-frame. “You’re wondering what it’s like to be gay.”
He squints. “No…well, kind of. Why do you guess that?”
“Because you invited me here late at night, and–” I turn in place, gesturing at the ceiling “–you live alone in this big house.”
“Huh, you’re pretty smart.” He looks up at the ceiling. “I bought this house because I am aiming for a wife and kids. But you’re right. I am also wondering what it’s like to be gay.”
My heart thumps in my chest at his admission. We are quiet for some time as he continues with the hand-grip. “So what did you want to ask me?”
He replies, “Years ago when I came to the US for college, one of my first goals was to bed a white woman.” He smirks. “A lot of male immigrants have that goal.”
“Okay…” I say, perplexed. “Did you succeed in that endeavor?”
“Of course.” He sets the hand-grip aside. “But now, I have different goal.” He looks into my eyes. “Now I want a white guy. I think you would make the perfect fit. I like how I would have never thought you were gay until you asked me if I was.”
My dick wakes. “A perfect fit for what?”
“What do you think?” He gives his crotch a lift and a squeeze. “I want a good-looking guy that I can contact on a regular basis.”
I swallow a lump in my throat, and stammer, “Look, nowadays gay people date in the open, and fall in love and start families together. As in, there’s no need to sneak around or find a wife. We treat each other like equals. I’m sorry if your upbringing makes you not okay with being out…”
He shakes his head. “Eh, you and I would have to sneak around regardless because of our age difference. What I’m asking is if you want to suck me off or not. If you want to, I will gladly feed you my dick on a regular basis. And by feed, I mean I would want you to swallow my cum.”
I stand there with my arms crossed, feigning annoyance, as my knees tremble with lust at the prospect of what he’s suggesting.
He stands and strips off his shirt, and uses one hand to rub his chest while the other cradles his groin, which is becoming hard again or maybe never stopped being hard. He takes a few steps toward me. “Do you like what you see, Justin?”
I force myself to gaze at his body. His chest muscles are pronounced, his abs visible, his arms built, but not too bulky. A line of black hair under his belly button leads to the top of his boxers. As if he’s following my eyes, he pulls the boxers down a bit with his thumb, revealing somewhat bushy pubic hair that is somehow darker than his black boxers, and the top of his dick. Then he turns around and flexes his arms and smooth back, the muscles well-defined under the room’s light. His ass, which I got a view of earlier seems somewhat flat under this light, but masculine. His legs, unlike a lot of dudes who over-train their upper body and ignore their lower body, are strong, too, as if he jogs or swims or bikes often.
My mouth is watering and I feel faint with desire, my growing cock pressing hard against my jeans.
He turns back to me. “So what do you think?”
“All right,” I utter. “I…” I have trouble saying it. “I’ll…suck you…I guess.”
“And swallow?” he asks.
I look away. “Sure.” I’ve never tasted cum before, but I guess I wouldn’t mind.
“And you will suck me on a regular basis?” he asks me.
“Uh…if it’s safe for me to sneak over.” What am I agreeing to?
“Glad to hear it,” he replies. “I’m glad you live right across the street. That makes this much easier, because you can come to me. The nights that I want you over, I will leave my porch light off like I did tonight. If there’s other possible times for us to meet, I’ll contact you through email. Do you have a phone?”
I pull it from my pocket and he motions for it. I give it to him and he taps in an email account.
Suddenly a serious look streaks across his face, and he says, “Just so we’re clear, we will not be boyfriends. Not only are you and I at different points in our life, but I’m not interested in that. I assume you do not have a boyfriend and are just a single horny teen. Otherwise, why would you agree to this?”
I snatch my phone back and return it to my pocket. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I affirm.
He looks into my eyes. “Are you a virgin?”
I answer with a hesitant yes.
He laughs. “A virgin agreeing to suck cock? You sure are gay, huh?”
I glare at him.
He puts his hands on his hips, and thinks. Meanwhile, my focus gets stuck on his torso, and the bulge just blow it. My heart races at the fact that I so quickly agreed to suck my first dick.
He says, “The reason I ask if you’re a virgin is because…how shall I put this?” He shifts his weight onto one side, and turns so that angle of his package protrudes. On display, I can tell that he’s smugly soaking in my attraction to him. “Since I will now begin exploring sexuality with a teenage guy, I want take advantage of what a teenage guy has to offer. When you came in and caught me with this–” and he points to his erection “–I was online looking at young male butts, which I’ve decided I like very much. Turn around and lift your shirt so that I can see the shape of yours.”
“No…” I reply, conjuring some sense of self-worth. “I didn’t agree to bottom.”
He blinks with surprise. “If you like my dick, and I like your butt, then why would we not screw? Oh, I forgot — you’re a virgin.” He scratches at his temple. “Justin, Justin, Justin. I will tell you how I see this playing out so that you are clear going in. The first few times you come over, including tonight, I will want you to suck me to completion. But soon, I will also want to take you to my bed, pull down your jeans and briefs and have you lay there exposed, and then I’ll enter you. You see, I want this to happen on my terms. I have three stipulations.”
“Three…?” I blurt.
“First, I like those butts I see online. Smooth, round, guyish and perky cheeks, like two melons side-by-side that a man thinks he’s not supposed to touch. Between is a place so perfectly snug that I believe it was made to wrap around a man’s dick, yet for some reason the world has made this pleasure taboo. Earlier today when you introduced yourself, and you were walking back to your house, I observed your butt and was pleased — except it was difficult for me to see in those baggy pants. That’s why I asked to see the shape more clearly just now. Why don’t you pull those pants down, and show me your perky butt?”
Wow, I think. What perverted thoughts. But I guess I can’t blame him since I’ve checked out his butt, too — though with less detail about what I’d do with it. “Na,” I respond. “I appreciate seeing you in your underwear, but I’m not ready to–”
“Secondly,” he interrupts, “I don’t intend to lick or play with your hole to make you comfortable, even though you’re virginal. Maybe I’ll do that stuff sometime down the road, but at first, I just want to squeeze my dick into your hole. Once in, I will establish a rhythm and fuck for a while before I go hard and fast before cumming. I want you to lie there and take it like a good gay guy.”
“That’s not realistic!” I protest. “I’m a virgin!”
“How do you think virgins become not-virgins?” he asks. “They take a dick.”
When I have no response to this, he concludes, “Lastly, after the first time we screw, I will crave it often, preferably at least three times a week given our convenient circumstances, but more if possible. Ideally, we’d fuck everyday. Needless to say, when I walk through the front door of my own home, what I want my first thought to be is how I have a sweet deal with a hot 18-year-old skateboarding kid across the street who provides me his mouth and anus. Do you understand now what I want?”
I nod, horny but unsure.
“Cool. So, tonight–” he pulls at his dick eagerly “–you suck me to completion.”
He grabs at my crossed arms and they pull loose, and we stand face to face, though he’s a little taller than I am. He looks into my eyes and just when I think we might kiss, he smirks, shaking his head. “C’mon, Justin. You know what to do.” He places his hand impatiently on my head, and presses downward so that I bend to my knees. “Open your mouth, hungry for it…like you plan to milk my dick.” He circles his hips, rubbing the bulge across my face. “You want to taste my Korean dick, huh?”
Without thinking, my lips part.
“That’s what I thought.” He pulls down the front of his boxer-briefs, letting his dick slip loose. He directs the tip of it across my lips, and my vision goes cloudy with desire and willingness, the scent and sight of him in my face everything I’d ever hoped for. It’s regularly sized and uncut, unlike mine, which seems slightly too big sometimes and is cut. All of a sudden he pushes it past my lips and deep into my throat, and I gag.
He leaves it there, and when I try to pull off to clear my throat, he puts a hand behind my head. I gag more, and hear him say, “C’mon, Justin. What’d I say about taking it like a good gay guy?”
With both arms, I shove him away. After coughing, I look up at him and shout: “How about you get on your knees, Yeon, and I’ll shove my dick to the back of your throat and see if you gag, too?!”
He takes a step back, stunned. “Okay, okay. Sorry.” He steps forward again, directing his dick to my tightly pressed lips. “C’mon,” he urges, pulling his boxers around the base of his balls, which dangle innocently. Seeing his full carnal groin, I can’t help but part my lips again. This time he slips in just the head.
I pull back and say, “I’ve never done this before.”
“That’s okay. Get yourself used it. You will be sucking me a lot.” I use my tongue to experiment licking the base, and he adds, “Hopefully everyday, in fact.”
Over the next few minutes, I acclimate myself to him, licking the tip and head, his shaft, and seeing how much of him I can take into my mouth, working through my gag reflex. His dick has a sandalwood soap taste from his shower. Soon, we’re in a motion where I keep my mouth an oval for him to move at a rhythm.
He stands in a high horse-stance and begins rocking his hips backward and forward, his dick sliding in and out of my mouth. “Good,” he says, his voice breathy, “I’ve needed this.” With a rhythm established, a moan escapes his lips.
He pulls himself out of my mouth gently and strips off his boxers so that he’s fully naked and puts his hands on his hips again, slipping his dick back into my mouth. I taste his pre-cum at the tip. He continues rocking, his dick hitting the back of my throat at a constant beat.
I keep my mouth and head as steady as I can, and when I look up at his body — and him rubbing his chest — I hear myself moan, so happy that I’m sucking such a beautiful man.
“You like what we’re doing, huh? Here, steady yourself against the wall.”
I crawl to an empty space of the wall, turn back onto my haunches, and undo my jeans, taking out my own dick to stroke, which is so hard it hurts and has been leaking. He looks at it curiously, and says, “Yeah, you can take that out,” as if I needed his permission. I smile at how he’s naked and I’m still fully clothed except for my dick poking out. He walks toward me, holding himself aimed for my mouth, his own lips slightly parted, and his eyes wantonly focused on my mouth. His dick slides back in, and although my throat is getting dry and my jaw starting to get sore, this seems like the last phase.
I stroke myself, my head steady against the wall, and I see a body-length mirror on the opposite side. I feast my eyes on the sight of his backside, his butt pumping backward and forward. I moan again. I look at the dick going in and out of my mouth, and think to myself that sucking him everyday would be easy.
I close my eyes and think of how the dryness and soreness of my throat will soon be quenched with his cum. His grunts and moans overload my senses. I take my hand off my own dick, but it’s too late. I’m cumming — as he hits my throat over and over, not receding. My eyes roll back and I feel like I’m in heaven, a squirting fountain of pleasure, but then my orgasm feels stinted, overpowered by the pattern of his force. My gag reflex kicks in again.
He puts his hands on both sides of my face and holds me steady. He starts pumping harder and faster.
Stuck between the wall and his grip, him in my mouth starts to feel like an intrusion, my throat raw. All of a sudden, I don’t want it at all, and shift my lower body to try to escape. He grips me tighter, so I can’t move, and I look up at him between his fingers, seeing his determined expression, his tensed chest, abs and biceps, his pelvis continuing to thrust in and out.
Did I actually agree to do this whenever he wants? I can’t remember…did I agree to bottom for this cocky dude I barely even know?!
I feel frantic and think to use my teeth. With a moan he says, “Here it comes, Justin.” Saltiness at the back of my throat. His hips stop moving, and he pushes deep down my throat, his pubic hair covering my nose so that I can barely breathe. He moans loudly as warm, creamy fluid jets down my throat, and I involuntarily start swallowing so that I don’t choke. As I start to feel overwhelmed, I squirm as I try to push him away.
But he holds my head more firmly against the wall, his dick pulsating in my mouth, releasing cum, as he pumps slow. It spurts at the back of my throat and I have no choice but to keep swallowing. He holds me still, and I glance up as he’s looking down at me, his lip curled with satisfaction. The pulsing stops and he wiggles out a last spurt. Then, he lets go of my face, carefully pulling his dick from my throat and mouth.
I’m coughing, the taste of him too much, his cum dripping down my throat.
“Good job,” he says, and shivers with spent pleasure. Then he looks at his own dick, and steps back in, rubbing the tip of it on my upper lip and over my nostrils. “Last drops,” he says. “I don’t want to add to the mess you made.”
I immediately wipe the stickiness away, but the smell of it remains. Through teary eyes, I look down at where I pathetically jizzed on his carpet.
He walks over to his discarded boxer-briefs and slips them on. “Cool. That felt really good. I hadn’t came in so long. I’m always busy with work or church…shit.” He collapses on the chair into a slouch, his legs spread. “That did not go perfectly since you’re new to this, but I know you will get better with time.” He stretches with a yawn, leaning back, and I stare angrily at his groin, feeling like I amounted to his cum dump.
He says, “Now that I think about it, your squirming to try to get away at the end was a turn-on. It made me want to force you to take it, which is kinda what happened, huh? How’d I taste? Good, yeah?” Playfully, he lifts himself in the chair, and rocks his hips, mimicking his earlier motion, his crotch bouncing upward with every forward thrust. He drops back into the chair. “Ahhh, so sweet. I think every man my age would appreciate a dick-sucking teen who lives across the street. I’m gonna take full advantage of this opportunity. Expect my porch light off tomorrow night, too.”
I zip up my pants. “Na, I don’t think so.” Then I cough a bit, trying to feign dignity. “I know I agreed to it, but I’m thinking this was just a one time thing. I’m not really comfortable being someone you can just use to get off. I’d rather have a boyfriend, actually.”
He stares at me for a moment, and then says, “Judging by my carpet, I think you liked it. Trust me, all throughout tomorrow you’ll be horny thinking about tonight. You will suck me again, I’m sure of it. Don’t worry. If you do it enough, it will become second nature. And after we screw for the first time, you will crave my dick, big time.”
I scoff at his presumptuousness. I stand ready to get out of here.
“Mmm,” he says, as I’m about to leave the room. “Round, guyish cheeks like two melons, side by side. The place between is so perfectly snug that it was made to wrap around my dick.”
For a moment I’m confused before I realize he’s talking about my butt. I pull my shirt from my jeans, embarrassed. “Goodbye,” I huff.
“Justin,” he says. “You’re a cool kid. Before you leave, I want you to know I would be honored if we go through with this. Tonight I made you follow through with the act because it’s important to establish expectations. I hope to see you again soon.”
“Bye,” I repeat, and storm out of his house.
I flee down his driveway in the dark night, stuck with the image of him rocking his hips narcissistically in his chair, his crotch happily serviced. My jaw is sore and I can’t get rid of the taste or smell of his cum, no matter how much I swallow or try to wipe it away. I think of how he views me as just something to use for sex. I feel myself growing hard again already.
Damn it, I think, as I open my parents’ front door.