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For weeks, ever since I started going out with Sarah, my Sundays always followed the same pattern; the same was true of the Sunday before last. As usual, I went to her place shortly after one, and as usual we did something together. This “something” could be a walk in the park, a visit to the zoo, the theater or the movies; she loves French films – in the original! Okay, twice we went to a high ropes course; she loves climbing according to colors. This Sunday we were at the Hamburg State Opera, where “Beauty and the Beast” was performed.
After the afternoon event, we drove to her parents' for dinner and afterwards we chatted in the winter garden about the weather, politics and similar trivialities? as always. Then Sarah brought me home around nine and as always the ride from the mansion in Blankenese ended with my question: “So? Are you coming up yet?”
On this Sunday, too, I leaned over to her as usual, wanting to plunge my tongue into her mouth. My left hand gently grasped her right knee, wanting to push up the hem of her – this time black – cocktail dress a little; maybe she felt like it after all, maybe I would finally see her naked again, I didn't dare dream of more.
But she pushed me away as usual, shaking her head energetically. “Kilian! Have you forgotten what we've been talking about all evening? The delegation from Chile is coming tomorrow: first a harbor tour to get in the mood, then a snack at Le Canard and later it's on to the conference table. I really need to be well rested, so don't be angry, but...” she stroked my cheek. “We'll see each other on Wednesday, at the opening of this painter's exhibition; Mama is so happy that you're coming with us and we don't have to show up as the mother-daughter duo again.”
Sarah gave me a fleeting kiss as always, then released me – once again unsatisfied – into the lonely night. I looked after her, shrugged my shoulders and, as always, finally made my way up to my apartment and out of these Sunday clothes.
It was still warm, as it had been all day. Wearing only a shirt and boxers, I stood on my interior balcony, took a deep breath and, with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, looked up at the overcast night sky. From the fifteenth floor, as high as my apartment in Hamburg-Bahrenfeld is, you do have an excellent view of Altona? but the nearby freeway and railroad tracks aren't so great, and at such a lofty height you can hardly hear the noise of the otherwise rather hectic neighborhood. I sat down on the old wicker chair and stared into the distance; my eyes fell on the telescope – another great gift from my girlfriend, like the opera subscription.
I enjoyed the beer and the smoke of the cigarette, and suddenly felt better, much better. I had had to do without these mundane pleasures in the last few hours. Sarah's father had given up smoking after a heart attack, and beer in bottles was beneath him anyway. But otherwise, Konrad was actually a nice and approachable guy, never letting the money talk, open-minded and interested in the lives of ordinary people. Maybe it was my Westphalian down-to-earthness that he liked about me, or it was my clear and logical view of things that he appreciated about me, I don't know. In any case, he, the eighth-generation Hanseatic wholesaler, virtually forced the job on me, the prospective industrial engineer, after an internship in his company.
Through this sideline job, I checked his new business ideas for their feasibility. I met and fell in love with his daughter Sarah, who occasionally works for him as an interpreter. Well, it wasn't exactly love at first sight, at least not on my part. Sarah is actually a nice girl, beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated, but inwardly she lacks a good portion of self-confidence, she is rather uptight, inhibited; almost the prototype of an iron maiden, if you can say so.
In the six months, I had never been able to stand it with the same woman for so long, we had only been in the crate twice. She usually blocked it, either put forward her days or, as on this Sunday, important appointments, so as not to have to feel my little Kilian; He longed so much for the warmth and security of a human womb. Normally I would have given her the cold shoulder long ago, but she is nice and she is my boss's daughter and she is a good catch.
My father may have his own carpentry business and eight employees, but we're really not that well off. Okay, my parents pay for my apartment and contribute a good deal to my living expenses. Hamburg isn't exactly cheap, after all. But at the same time, they're also financing the master carpenter's course for Simon, my brother, who is two years older than me and is supposed to take over the carpentry business one day. The only one they don't support anymore is Anne, the oldest of us three siblings. After her training as a kindergarten teacher and several unfortunate love affairs, she wanted to find herself. Her last sign of life was a postcard for my 21st birthday, stamped in Calcutta, the capital of the Indian state of West Bengal; that was a little over five years ago.
I had to go back to the fridge whether I wanted to or not. On the way back, I must not have been paying enough attention to my steps, I kicked this goddamn telescope with my left foot; how I hated this thing! All right, it had been a gift from Sarah for my birthday, certainly not cheap, but what was I supposed to do with that shit? But it was my own fault, since I had put the idea into her head with my supposed penchant for the world of the stars.
We had just started going out and were coming out of one of those chic cocktail bars that are now popping up like mushrooms, walking hand in hand through Planten un Bloomen, Hamburg's city park for everyone, looking at the stars. A blind man could find the Pole Star in the Little Dipper with a cane, and from there it's not too hard to find the Big Dipper; women just love it when you tell them romantic stuff about the starry sky, when you prattle on about stars and distant planets. The method usually works and I just wanted to get her into bed with the liquorice grater anyway, but suddenly I found myself in an academic dispute between astrology and astronomy; not only little Kilian didn't enjoy it much.
And then she arrived at my birthday with this star-gazing device, a Skywatcher MC 127/1500. I was speechless, but she said that I should use my mind rather than my heart when looking at the firmament. I had set up the thing, she could visit me in my apartment, but I had no real interest in interplanetary observation. Okay, I had looked at the starry sky over Hamburg two or three times, but I hadn't found the man in the moon yet.
What should I do with the device? The sky was overcast, the annoying thing was really useless. I would have liked to have thrown it off the balcony, but that would have meant the end of things with Sarah. But wait! In some American movie, I had once seen a man in a wheelchair watching a murder in his neighborhood through a telescope; but I didn't want to see a dead person.
I looked through the eyepiece, but thanks to the damn clouds, I couldn't see either the moon or any of the countless stars properly. So I followed the cinematic example and pointed the optics at the neighboring house, still harboring the vague hope of at least discovering a heavenly body there, in whatever situation. I began my scientific investigation on the left side on the ground floor, moving from window to window, and then turning my attention to the next floor; there I started the investigation again, but this time from right to left.
I wanted to catch a glimpse of a naked female body; I dreamt of observing a random sexual act as if I had won the lottery jackpot. On the eighth floor, I spotted a woman in just her bra and panties in front of the TV, probably doing her evening fitness routine; I almost passed out: the woman could have been my mother, so definitely not my scene! So I had to keep looking.
I found a naked back only just below the roof, so it must also be the fifteenth floor; the neighboring house and mine were identical. The person was sitting on the windowsill, talking on the phone, and tilting his head. I didn't have any luck on the top floor either, so I refocused on the naked figure. The back didn't look so bad. But the window, just the object of my desire, was now dark, while the neighboring room was now fully illuminated.
The naked back slowly turned into a profile. It was – how could it be otherwise? – a man, so not at all what I had been looking for, what I had been longing for. My luck seemed to have deserted me. The guy was tall, slender, tanned; he was playing around with himself and staring at something. I moved the telescopic tube just a millimeter or a millimeter and a half: the guy had one of those large flat screens and was watching porn. As far as I could tell, a curtain blocked my full view of two men having sex.
In search of sexual release for me and little Kilian – Sarah usually left me high and dry anyway – I had come across many an epic on film on the internet. Some of them I could watch, others I found quite repulsive. I was never interested in pure gay porn, but I did like productions in which there were two men with a woman. Just the thought of experiencing something like that with Sarah in the female lead made my 19-centimeter appendage jump and dance with joy.
Okay, I usually fast-forward through the scenes where the guys do it to each other, but the day before yesterday, I don't know why either, I watched one of these snippets in full. The flick was, as I like it, pretty soft. The two guys, about my age, both blond and with short hair, caressed and licked each other with relish, then sucked each other off, and the old woman cheered them on in their unchaste goings-on. Whatever the exact cause, little Kilian seemed to like the scene very much, the little one developed a life of its own and sucked away.
What to do, said Zeus? I was torn. Well, I could have stopped my somewhat inappropriate observations on the spot and gone to the computer to look for adequate relief and then let the hand machine rattle. But what would that have achieved? Little Kilian was already growing, and he seemed to like the guy and his game. Why should I exchange a live show in the making for a canned one?
But should I really watch a man in his most intimate moment? Well, I had once witnessed the whole show, from start to finish, with Thomas, the boy sitting next to me in tenth grade. We were at our local outdoor pool, not only talking to the girls, but also practicing hands-on mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It was a hot afternoon that culminated later when he was alone in the locker room. I had never seen so much cum from a cock before, to be honest I was jealous, but only of the amount that shot out of him!
So I stayed in my observation position and the longer I looked through the lens, the more eagerly little Kilian built up the tent pole in my boxers. Thanks to the possibilities offered by this small-scale Hubble, it seemed as if I were in the same room and could look him directly in the face as he went about his business, but I was over 50 meters away from the dark-haired guy with medium-length hair. I saw everything, absolutely everything! He had a handsome face, an antique curved nose, I could even see every single stubble of the guy thanks to the 1,500 mm lens: simply amazing!
I saw the tension, the excitement in his body. His dark nipples seemed to be stiff, stood upright; they seemed like huge moon rocks to me. The sight of his abs made me feel queasy; I should finally go back to the gym, I would love to have a six-pack like that, I would love it. His hand worked on his vertical redwood, the jungle was trimmed. He was, like me, uncircumcised. His brownish hand repeatedly opened and closed the fleshly parasol around a large, purple-looking dome. The faster he operated his own mechanism, the greater my appendage's desire for satisfaction.
I stared spellbound through the lens and suddenly, as if controlled by an invisible hand, my right hand also played with my tent pole, trying to test the elasticity of the boxer's fabric. Even though I hardly wanted to admit it to myself, I was sailing under full sail. Never in my entire life would I have thought that the sight of a man pleasuring himself could give me so much pleasure. I was shocked at myself, but I watched with delight as a fellow male jerked off; I could hardly believe it!
Still protected by the material shell, I played with my lower head, sometimes tenderly, sometimes anxiously, but always excitedly. Thank God there was no one left on the balconies, so my activities would go unnoticed. But, between you and me, I haven't had an erection this hard since watching a video of two busty blondes naked mud-wrestling.
The guy in the house across the way suddenly moved his left hand up. His thumb first remained in his belly button, probably making a few circuits there, then he moved his hand higher, it came to rest on his right chest, but it didn't seem exhausted. If my senses didn't deceive me, two fingers were twirling on his towering nipple. I did the same and felt comfortable with it, very comfortable indeed!
As if guided by telepathic forces, I imitated his every move. I felt the same excitement, the same lust as my neighbor, the same twitching went through our distant bodies. The moment the guy in the neighboring house relieved himself, I also came. The only difference: the guy on the other side squirted on his carpet, I glued the cotton fibers of my boxers.
We both needed time to recover from what we had just experienced. When the light on the other side was extinguished, he probably went to his bathroom, I also left the balcony happy and satisfied. A live show, even if delivered by a man, is sometimes considerably better than a work of interpersonal activity captured on celluloid.
I went to bed feeling content, at peace with myself and the world. Well, I knew the guy who had just given me this performance, even if not really. I had seen him often, we had occasionally crossed paths in the supermarket or waited for the same bus, but our previous communication was limited to a nod at most, since we only lived in the same area, in the same neighborhood. How should I meet him if our paths crossed again?
After a somewhat restless night, I just couldn't get what I had seen out of my head. I thought I recognized the guy who had caused me to make such a colossal exit on the opposite platform of the Hamburg-Bahrenfeld S-Bahn station. I stared at him, but then, after a moment, we smiled at each other and nodded in a friendly manner; nothing more happened.
I went to the university, still needed some facts for my master's thesis, and I also had an appointment with my supervisor at 5:00 p.m. But the meeting with Professor Wiese, who had also reviewed my bachelor's thesis, dragged on like chewing gum; he had a few new ideas for my work and wanted to discuss them with me over dinner. It was nine o'clock when I left the local S-Bahn stop and was caught in a late summer downpour. Although I ran, I was wet to the bone when I put the key in the front door.
After the necessary shower, I got ready for bed, my alarm clock would ring as early as 6:00 a.m.; I usually spend Tuesdays at Konrad's company. But before bed rest, I wanted to make a smoke offering, my nicotine level needed to be raised again. My apartment is not a smoke-free zone, but even as a smoker, I don't like cold smoke in the house, and I would have smelled it at breakfast. So I headed to the fresh air zone of my dwelling and lit a cigarette on the balcony, enjoying the peace and solitude.
Inevitably, as large as my open space is not, the black housing of the telescope appeared before my eyes. Should I risk a quick glance? I hadn't changed the setting since yesterday evening, and my neighbor's living room was still in focus. After a brief consideration, I brought my right eye to the lens and looked through it.
Well, there was a certain tension, I admit that readily, but was I really expecting a repeat of yesterday's scene? Somehow I was relieved that the apartment was facing the street. I finished smoking and went to bed. The sleep was dreamless, but more than good for me.
I finished my work at Konrad quickly; I only had to take care of the leftovers from Friday, my second day at the office. There was nothing new on my desk, but that would surely change soon. The Chileans had been there yesterday and that would probably mean a lot of work, just like with the Spaniards, who visited us three months ago.
I left the venerable trading house earlier than usual, but at least I was able to restock the supplies in my fridge, I needed bread, butter, some cold cuts and beer was also no longer in the house. The Penny in Friedensallee was Thank God? just over a kilometer away from my apartment, so I would just about be able to carry the groceries.
As I was pushing the shopping cart through the aisles, once again loading more than necessary, I met him, my neighbor. He was standing in front of the refrigerated meat case, apparently undecided about what to take. Should I dare to speak to him? I thought about it for a moment, but then decided on the elegant solution and simply passed him, greeting him only with a brief nod of the head.
By the time I got to the checkout, however, he had passed me and was standing right in front of me. I couldn't decide between mushroom pizza and pineapple pizza. He would probably have steak for dinner; a package of Irish beef was on the conveyor belt. I saw a net with potatoes and a tub of sour cream, along with one of those bags of salad mix and the appropriate dressing. I envied it, because I am anything but a gifted cook. Most of the time I eat in the cafeteria, and I only use the stove in my apartment to heat up canned soup or to cook pasta; the matching sauces are already available as a ready-made product that just needs to be warmed up.
I served the pizza on the balcony, having sliced it in the kitchen after taking it out of the oven. I drank beer from the bottle with it, unfortunately not well chilled. But I hadn't put the plate with the leftovers in Italian on the small table in front of me; no, the porcelain was on the windowsill, right next to the door. Every time I went to the food source, both on the way there and on the way back, I took a quick look through the eyepiece, watching my neighbor prepare food.
My neighbor's apartment was laid out a bit differently than mine; the dividing wall to the kitchen was missing. He ran back and forth the whole time, and, much to the delight of little Kilian, in his birthday suit, naked except for a pair of slippers on his feet. He ate at the living room table and seemed to like the taste; how I would have liked to have been with him right now.
After the opening on Wednesday, I was really glad to be back in my own four walls. The appetizers that were served at the art show consisted only of cold fish. I like seafood served warm in all its variations, but when it's cold, I prefer to give it a wide berth. The works on display were also a bit too abstract for my taste. And discussions about what the artist actually wanted to say with his work are more than distasteful to me; and there were plenty of conversations of this kind at this event.
I made myself a sandwich, with ham and a slice of medium-aged Gouda, because my stomach still wanted to be filled sensibly. I enjoyed this heavenly meal on my observation deck; this time the beer was well chilled too. The light was on in the apartment opposite. After my meal, I gave in to my curiosity and looked through the telescope. I could hardly believe what I saw; it took my breath away!
My neighbor was sitting naked on his couch, lolling lasciviously; but this time he was not alone. Another man, also naked, looked down at him with a grin, and this guy was also playing with himself. His member seemed considerably larger than little Kilian's, who was slowly feeling cramped again in his trousers. A gay porn movie was playing on the TV again, as a kind of suggestion.
The guy standing in front of the sofa, you could see almost every vein on his shaved head, was tanned like my neighbor, but his body was even more defined, even more muscular. The bald man walked towards the sofa, waving his manhood in the process, and then held it directly in front of my neighbor's nose. His lips licked the tip of the stranger's rod, slowly at first, then more and more vigorously, until it disappeared completely into his mouth.
Little Kilian reported again, wanting to be freed from his prison at last. I fumbled with my belt, pushed the waistband down a bit and my right hand to my crotch; immediately I felt the moisture that was already present in my pants. The prisoner leaped for joy when I finally slid the last material wall of his prison onto my thighs.
On the opposite side, the stranger now moved his hips faster, really bucking. His left hand seemed to have wrapped itself around my neighbor's head, as if it wanted to penetrate even deeper into his mouth, even though his balls were already being pushed forcefully away from the blower's chin with every thrust. The bald man took a step back, but only revealed the view briefly, and he now slammed his thing onto the nose, mouth and cheeks; my neighbor seemed to like it.
Never before in my life had I been able to watch a couple's physical act live; until now I had always only been an eavesdropper. Should I lose my innocence in this regard to a game between two men? Did I really want that? I was unsure, but at the same time quite hot. I then looked through the lens after all: the games could begin!
The pounding had stopped, my neighbor was sucking again, the tip of his nose was pressed deep into the abdominal wall of the muscular bald man. How can you take in so much? I got lockjaw, but the man across the way sucked and sucked and with a fervor that I never would have thought possible. He let his hands glide over the body of the other man, who, with the same devotion, caressed the blower.
My legroom was too restricted, I pulled my trousers down even further, trying to get the necessary fresh air to my crotch; I almost fell over, but managed to catch myself just in time. I pushed my leggings to the side with my foot. The no longer small Kilian wanted to be caressed, literally begged for touch; I was happy to do him the favor, and also played with the marbles in my bag.
As I could see through the eyepiece, the physical situation over there had not changed much: The bald man had put one foot on the sofa, bent slightly towards my neighbor, who was still sucking, and was now lovingly playing with his manhood. This muscleman, who under normal circumstances I would not have liked to meet in the dark, this well-trained body was showing a tenderness that made me shudder. It was so strange and yet so close!
But I didn't have much time to think, I didn't break the eye contact and played with myself. My balls twitched tremendously, my fingers flew over my best piece. The bald guy suddenly bucked. When, a blink of an eye later, I saw white goo running out of my neighbor's mouth, I almost bit my tongue off so as not to scream my own orgasm loudly into the night. The cock in my hand exploded mightily, the remains spread out over the faded, green artificial turf with which I had laid out my balcony. Still whimpering, but at the same time more than relieved, I collapsed blindly into the old wicker chair and gasped for air.
On Thursday, I was treated to another solo performance, but somehow, I don't know why, it was different from the first time. My neighbor's right hand was busy with his tree again, he seemed to be groaning, squirming like an eel. But where was his left hand? I adjusted the telescope setting a little and saw a flesh-colored object that was repeatedly pushed into his hole by the fingers of his left hand.
I couldn't help it, I unzipped my trousers, envying little Kilian the freedom of movement he so urgently needed again. My neighbor played with himself, I with myself. He had his fun and I had my joy in his pleasure. We didn't come at the same time, he was a bit faster this time; apparently he had missed the carnal spear that had pleased him yesterday. And me? When I came, I knew: I would have liked to have been the part in his ass.
Right after work on Friday, I went to my parents, Tom, my childhood school friend, married on Saturday. Sarah had politely declined the invitation, saying she didn't know anyone there anyway and that I should do something without her for a change, but that we would meet on Sunday at the climbing park; which we did. This day was like all the previous Sundays, with just one small exception: I didn't ask if she wanted to come up, but I hoped against hope that she would.
Somehow I was hoping for a new spectacle in the neighboring house, for a new show, as I had almost painfully missed my secret observations in the last two days. It was probably thanks to this anticipation that I only put on a bathrobe and went out onto my balcony. Thanks to the fact that three quarters of my balcony were covered, I didn't mind the light rain outside. Just the sight of the neighboring apartment was enough to make little Kilian jump; he had plenty of room, under the terry cloth I was wearing only skin.
Suddenly the doorbell rang, I was really startled. Was it Sarah who had come back? Did she want to get it on with me or had she noticed the missing question and become suspicious? But the situation was still harmless. I took a deep breath, went to the door, pressed the opener and waited for what and who would come.
Two minutes later, the elevator door opened and I couldn't believe my eyes: it wasn't my future wife, but the guy from the neighboring house, who was leaving the cabin and coming straight towards me. He was wearing one of those deep blue PVC raincoats that reached almost to the ground – a bit exaggerated for the light drizzle. When he was standing directly in front of me, I had to swallow. I had never seen him so close, although I had already studied almost all of his pores in detail in the last few days.
“Hello, I'm Kiriakos from next door.” His voice was soft. ‘May I come in?’ I think we need to have a little chat about a certain matter.” I gasped for air like a fish on dry land, letting him pass without a word. Up close, the guy looked even better than through the mirrors of my telescope; I followed him. The balcony door was open, he went in that direction, but stopped in the living area, pointed outside to my ready-to-use stargazing device. “And over that thing there!”
I suddenly felt bad, caught; I couldn't speak! The guy from next door turned in my direction, leaned against my sofa and grinned broadly. “I saw you watching me, not just once! You could have just come over, it would have been easier and probably more fun than spying on me with that thing.”
My knees went weak and I had to hold on to the door frame. The guy grinned even more cheekily, then opened his raincoat and let it slide slowly off his shoulders. My eyes almost popped out of my head, because underneath it was naked, naked as God created him. In the warm light of the ceiling lamp, his body shone like bronze, smooth and hard, his nipples were erect, stiff and firm, his cock hung long and heavy between his legs.
Little Kilian, just a moment ago still limp and shriveled, suddenly came to new life and began to stir again. “But?” I hadn't lost my ability to speak after all. “But your friend?”
Oh, you mean Yannis, the bald one? I nodded silently. Yannis comes by from time to time when his old lady isn't letting him get it and he's got the pressure. The hand gesture he made was rather disparaging. But he also likes to play group games, so you could have rung the bell on Wednesday. We really wouldn't have minded. He eyed me as I had eyed him, only more directly, eye to eye. What does the K on your doorbell plate stand for, anyway?
I cleared my throat briefly, the frog in my throat had to go somehow. K for Kilian. My parents come from the country... I shrugged apologetically, handed him my hand, which he took and held. After a minute, however, I pulled back. But I'm not gay.
He laughed, and this laughter was not unwarranted, because my blue eyes, which stared spellbound at his body and scrutinized every square inch of his skin, and the part between my legs, which had meanwhile made its way through the folds of my bathrobe to freedom, made my statement seem more than questionable, even ridiculous. But my statements were true, I had never had deep or even romantic feelings for a man, let alone had sex with him. Should that change here and now? I could only swallow.
“Gay or not, I like what I see.” Kiriakos pushed away from the backrest and came quite close to me. His slender fingers scurried through my hair, traced the contours of my face, and one shiver after another ran down my spine; then he grinned. “And I think you also like what you see now and have already seen. Or don't you?”
I could only nod in response to this indisputable fact. He came even closer, I suddenly felt the warmth, no, the heat of his body through the terrycloth, then his lips sought contact with mine, at first timidly, then harder, more demanding. I couldn't help myself, I wrapped my neck around his and gave my tongue the unequivocal command to conquer his mouth.
The kiss was intimate, tender, excited, passionate, we held on to each other, the crowns of our trunks touched, almost seemed to merge in the heat of passion. He smelled somehow sweet and this scent almost drove me crazy when his tongue made its way through my lips to counterattack. Our taste buds met, first touching each other cautiously, then dancing an electrifying pas de deux in the humid and warm ballroom, sometimes in his half, sometimes in mine; it was simply phenomenal!
He pushed my robe off my shoulders, fumbled with the belt, opened it, our tongues were still busy with each other. The white terry cloth robe fell to the floor, now we were both naked and it didn't bother me in the least. On the contrary, I just pressed him even closer to me, just now only our lips had merged, now the heads of our parts also came into closer contact, I almost went crazy!
He released the connection of our mouths, threw his head back, then looked at me with a broad grin. Is someone getting a little gay?
I would like to be the passionately blazing and raving fag for Kiriakos, because he alone was the adorable star in my otherwise empty sex heaven. My lips made their way down his neck. I licked his brownish skin and nibbled on the soft but firm flesh of his upper body. My teeth gently closed around his nipples, my tongue danced over the stiff nipples.
He seemed to like my tongue play quite a bit, his blissful groans were the approval I wanted to hear from him. I reveled in the taste of his body, sucked on his nipples, hairless like a woman's. The scarred-looking dark skin on the tip of his two mounds was like manna to me, I would have loved to eat it, but then I just nibbled and sucked on it. He writhed with pleasure under my touch, apparently wanting more, and I was more than willing to give it to him.
I went deeper, my hands grasped his slim, smooth sides and with my tongue I traced the fine line between his chest and belly button, sucking on it hard. His member pushed under my chin. It was simply incredible! I felt his heat, his sweat, his excitement on my fingertips, and, as I let them slide even deeper, my fingernails dug into his hips, I burned inside from his blazing heat. I was now kneeling in front of him, his hard manhood twitching before my eyes; could there be a better sight?
Blow me!” Kiriakos moaned with lust. ”Blow my cock!”
I was only too happy to fulfill his wish. My eyes focused on the swollen hood, my hands gently wrapped around the shaft, my mouth went dry, I had to swallow. I pushed his foreskin back, and let the tip of my tongue slide through the opening of the purple head, then sank it all into my mouth. My lips wrapped around the tip, and immediately I tasted the pre-cum that he was secreting. My tongue knocked on the door again, wanting more.
Yes!? I looked up briefly, my neighbor was panting and trembling with desire. He grabbed my head, urging me to inhale even more of his beautiful cock. I did it, I wanted to. Inch by inch, I advanced, then backed up a little, but immediately went forward again. Three quarters of his erection was inside me, then the tip pushed against my tonsils. I was most surprised by myself: I had a man's cock in my mouth and this cock was throbbing and twitching in my mouth, filling it more than just filling it and I felt more than comfortable with it!
As if I had never done anything else, I moved my head back and forth and began to suck his cock vigorously, working it with my teeth. The more I salivated his member, the faster I was able to slide up and down on this divine flesh. My hands grasped his firm buttocks, seeking a better hold. He trembled, arched his back, his tip hit the back of my throat. He seemed to like the caresses I gave his joy-giver, and I liked giving them. I sucked faster, slower, sometimes sensually and full of feeling, sometimes aggressively and demanding. Sometimes I just circled the tip with my tongue, sometimes I took in as much as I could. I blew him the way I always wanted to be blown.
My hands wandered over his mounds, my fingers explored his valley. When my fingertips penetrated the natural slit, his knees trembled, quite violently even. The pressure of his hands on my head increased and suddenly he shot forward with his hips, his abdominal wall caught the impact of my nose like a fireman's parachute. What was that? He had apparently opened my tonsils like a pair of wing doors and was now completely inside me. And me? I just enjoyed this closeness, this feeling of being filled up.
At the next exit, the opening for my tongue was the tip of his mushroom, I looked up again. I saw the fire in his eyes, saw his lust and his desire to feed me with his human spoon and I finally wanted his mush, wanted to taste it, let it melt on my tongue. Faster and faster and more frantically, his eating utensil pierced my feeding hatch; I was just happy. So happy that I worked my part with my right hand and left the digging in his valley to my left.
When my little finger was halfway inside him, he stumbled forward and the feeding began; finally! He twitched and I felt a tremendous pumping in my mouth. The first few spoonfuls were probably fed directly into my throat, but the rest flooded my taste buds, drowning them in his divine nectar. I swallowed the ambrosia he gave me with satisfaction and happiness, spraying my own cream on the laminate flooring where I was kneeling.
Ages later we were sitting on the couch together, smoking, replenishing our fluid loss with beer and chatting; and quite intensively at that. Never before had I spoken to a man about my intimate life, never before had I told a man my most secret desires and longings, never before had I revealed myself to a man at all, but I had also never felt so comfortable and secure in a conversation with a man as I did at that moment. It seemed as if we had known each other for years, such trust, harmony and warmth prevailed between us. It was incredible!
During this conversation, we became closer and closer, and not only on a human level. At the beginning, everyone sat in their corner, but the more intense our dialogue became, the closer we moved together physically, and in the end he was sitting on my lap. My hand was on his hip, the other was playing in his hair, and my mouth was suddenly sucking on his muscular chest again. My drooling tongue ran through his armpit, and just the smell of his body intoxicated me; but it also had the same effect on the little Kilian, who was no longer little at all.
Suddenly, in mid-sentence, he jumped up, went to his raincoat, which was still lying on the floor, my eyes following him with every step he took. With a white tube in his hand and a broad grin on his lips, he stood before me again. He slowly unscrewed the cap, took the container in one hand and squeezed a large portion of the gelatinous mass, which looked like a transparent ointment, onto his other hand.
He turned around, threw the ointment container on the table, and smeared most of it between his hemispheres. Then he turned around again, bent down to me, pulled the hood down on little Kilian and smeared the rest of the ointment, which was still in his palm, over my entire body; a pleasant shiver ran through my whole body, I didn't know what was happening to me, I felt so horny!
Kiriakos jumped back onto the seat, his stiffened manhood pranced again before my gleaming eyes. He pushed me down, I was no longer sitting, I was almost lying on the seat of my living room furniture. The deeper I slid, the deeper he went. He gasped with lust. “Kilian, I... I want to feel you now... have you... have you inside of me!
My mind went blank as my tip touched his rear cheeks; thousands of electrons went amok. I reached for my part, directed it towards his opening, and he pulled his cheeks apart with his hands, then trapped my appendage. Our upper bodies bumped into each other, I only felt heat, above and below. I couldn't see my own thing anymore, it had disappeared behind him, I could only feel. First I felt something cold, then the cold became slippery, my neighbor went a little higher and there my tip felt the natural opening in his valley; I could have passed away from pleasure!
He reached back and gave my shaft the final push. My mushroom was pushed hard, but it wanted to, no, it had to, into its basket. We looked at each other directly. At that moment, he seemed a bit tense, but only the stars of lust shone in his eyes, brighter and clearer than those in the firmament on a cozy summer night. He sucked in the air sharply as he dropped down on my rod, and breathing was more than difficult for me too!
I had previously only been able to dream of this kind of union; only Marion, the sex-obsessed hairdresser I met on the Malle last summer, even considered it, but it failed in the early stages, I was probably too excited. But now my cock was all the way up a man's ass and I thought it was just awesome, not repulsive at all. On the contrary, it was hotter, tighter, more exciting in him than in any woman's grotto I had been in so far. I felt good, more than good!
I felt how little or big Kilian pulsated, almost being crushed by the hot walls of his intestine. I pushed myself deeper into the seat, only to shoot up again, deeper into him. He had clearly understood, because when he kissed me, turning my mouth into a vacuum, he raised his divine backside a little, giving me enough room for my hammer blows, which were now being delivered at an ever faster pace.
The guy next door seemed to be a master of his trade, because he began to gently work against my thrusts, but took care not to disrupt the difficult-to-find rhythm, not to disturb our rhythm. This horny unison, this harmony of pleasure, made us moan and pant. The heat in his grotto, which embraced my part, the warmth of his body, which pressed tightly against mine, his hot breath, which blew on my face, the glow of his rod, which rubbed on my stomach, all this made me pass, I took off? to the stars of pleasure, I plunged into a universe of horniness.
I can't control myself anymore. The movement of my hips became more and more uncontrolled, violent, demanding. I couldn't take it anymore, bathed in sweat. My neighbor grunted, also seemed to be no longer master of his senses; he swayed violently on my flagpole. When he dropped abruptly, whether intentionally or unintentionally, I fired one braking rocket after another from my glowing pipe, directly into his hot grotto; the pace of my thrusts decreased.
But he continued to move on top of me, had probably found his rhythm again, seemed happy, more than happy. I felt the tip of his tongue on my tonsils. When I reached between us, grasped his shaft and pulled the flesh lever back, a fountain squirted out of him, the pressure was enormous. My chin got wet, more than wet, his white, viscous extinguishing water ran down my neck at first, then spread over my chest and stomach.
He slumped down, came to lie on me. I felt his racing heartbeat, his heat, his sweat. It was simply indescribable, I had never experienced anything like it.
I don't know how long we still snogged, glued and closely entwined, but the common shower, which was more than due, did us both good. After a final beer, he left, not without me having promised a return visit beforehand. This visit should not take place 24 hours later; I was looking forward to it like a snow king!
Well, I experienced this ecstasy last Sunday and since then Kiri, as I call my neighbor, and I play together every evening. His kisses are simply phenomenally cool and yesterday I felt him for the first time in me, too. He caused a real flood in my previously untouched canal; it was just galactic, there is no other way to describe the feeling I had. Well, at first Kiri had been coy, didn't want to make me happy, he would rather be the passive part of our secret relationship. But then he couldn't resist my blue eyes and my logic and realized that you can't always just take, you also have to give from time to time. Well, I couldn't really sit next to Sarah at the movies today, but I guess I'll get used to that too. But I can understand him, it's just awesome to be completely filled by a heavenly being.
Are Kiri and I a couple? Have I become gay? Four days ago, we spent the night together, fell asleep together and got up together the next morning, but I don't know, really. I am, as before, still with Sarah; she said on Friday in the office that I was now more balanced, no longer so fixated on the physical. No wonder, the caresses she denies me, I now get from Kiri, and I do it gladly, very gladly even.
I really don't know what the future will bring. Sarah is still a nice girl and still a good catch, but Kiri is a person with feelings who naturally fulfills my longing for warmth and security. Why is life so complicated?
And today is Sunday again, and I wait for the light to come on in the apartment across the way, because that's the sign for me: as soon as the TV is on over there, I'll make my way over to Kiri's place. Yannis has announced himself; let's see if he can make both of us happy too!