Chris didn’t wait for a response.
He grabbed my waist, pulled me up off my knees, and nudged me forward onto the bed like he was flipping me into position. My knees hit the mattress, chest still low, Adam adjusted himself on the bed and his cock was still throbbing in front of my face. I barely had time to breathe before Chris spread my thighs wider from behind.
“Right there,” Chris said, voice low. “Don’t move.”
And then…his mouth.
Wet and hot and hungry. I flinched when I felt his tongue swipe up the crack of my ass, slow and deliberate. He didn’t waste time. He went straight for it, lips pressed to my hole, tongue circling, tasting.
Adam’s cock was standing at a perfect 90-degree angle.
Thick. Veiny. Red at the tip. And twitching.
I adjusted my head and leaned towards Adam’s cock and once again took him in my mouth.
His cock was hot and hard and pulsing on my tongue. I wrapped my lips tighter around it, dragged my mouth down the shaft, then pulled back slowly with a long suck that made his thighs twitch. My hands slid up the backs of his legs. I moaned a little just to hear his reaction.
My mouth was full with Adam’s cock . My body was arching while Chris was fucking feasting on my ass like he hadn’t eaten in days….tongue slipping in and out, fingers digging into my hips to hold me still. He licked me open with slow, deep swipes. Then faster, more focused. His tongue curled, pressed inside. Hot. Wet. Dirty.
Chris’s fingers started spreading me wider while his tongue drilled deeper inside me. His breath was hot, his stubble scratched lightly around my rim, and my whole body jerked every time he flicked his tongue in.
My hands were on Adam’s thighs, my head bobbing, spit dripping down my chin and stringing between my lips and his shaft.
Chris licked me like he was addicted. Deep. Slow. Then fast again. His tongue was wild. His hands gripped my hips harder, and when I moaned around Adam’s cock, Adam growled.
“F–fuck,” he breathed. “Your mouth… holy shit…”
I sucked harder. Not just to impress him….but because I wanted to. I wanted to drain him while Chris made my knees weak from behind. I wanted to lose myself in both of them.
“God,” I mumbled around the shaft in my throat, “fuck me, Chris…”
And he did.
I didn’t even hear the condom tear open. But suddenly, the wet glide of lube replaced his tongue, and then….
“Ohhh……fuck…” I gasped out as I felt him push into me.
It wasn’t fast. Chris took his time. Inch by inch, his cock spread me open, and I moaned as I sank lower on Adam’s dick to match the rhythm. My lips sealed around Adam’s head, just as Chris bottomed out.
“Shit,” I groaned, body trembling. “That’s so—deep…”
Chris didn’t say anything, but I could hear his breathing change. Hear his soft grunts as he pulled back and slid in again. The way his hips smacked into my ass with every thrust. He knew this wasn’t about teasing anymore.
It was full-on fucking.
And Adam… Adam was watching the whole thing.
He reached down and held my head. Not rough. Just firm. Like he wanted to feel everything. His fingers tangled in my hair as he fed himself slowly into my throat, inch by inch, with this stunned look on his face. His brows drawn tight. His chest rising and falling fast.
“Damn, Leo,” he murmured. “ I didn’t know guys were this good with their mouths”
Chris slammed into me harder. His grunts louder now. My eyes rolled back. I was full. My mouth full. My ass full. My body was shaking from pleasure in both directions and I couldn’t even speak….I could only moan around Adam’s cock as Chris fucked me harder from behind.
“You like that?” Chris grunted, digging into my hips. “Like being used by both of us?”
I couldn’t answer.
I just swallowed Adam deeper.
Sloppy sounds filled the room, wet slaps, breathy moans, the occasional fuck from Adam’s lips when I took him all the way in. Chris’s balls slapped against mine. His rhythm was relentless.
“Oh my God,” Adam gasped. “Don’t stop, Leo…..fuck…..don’t stop…….”
He was close.
I could feel it in the way his thighs tensed under my hands. The way his breathing sharpened. The way his cock twitched on my tongue. I sucked deeper, faster. Flattened my tongue. Swirled it around the base before sinking again. My eyes flicked up to watch his face.
That face was blissed-out.
And suddenly, I felt it.
Chris’s grip tightened. His thrusts turned wild. His body tensed behind me.
“Fuck…..fuck….Leo…I’m…” he moaned.
I gripped Adam harder and let him use my throat. Chris slammed into me once, twice more…
Then….
“Fuuuck!” Adam cried out, shooting hot down my throat.
Chris groaned and bit down lightly on my shoulder, burying himself inside me as his own orgasm hit, hips jerking uncontrollably. His moans were raw, low, breathless against my skin.
My whole body shook.
I swallowed Adam’s load like it was the only thing keeping me alive. Chris collapsed forward, his arms wrapping around my chest, his cock twitching still deep inside me.
I was still on my knees, Adam in front of me, Chris buried behind me, my body shaking between them.
And I realized….
I’d just taken two loads at the same time.
One deep in my throat, from my hot, probably-still-“straight” neighbor.
The other filling my hole from my filthy fuck buddy.
Adam was still twitching in my mouth. His cock still pulsing. Still leaking the final drops.
“Dude,” he gasped, staring down at me like I’d ruined his life. “You have to like… blow me every single day after work.”
I slowly pulled off his cock, strings of cum connecting us. A glistening mess from his tip to my lips.
Chris was still behind me, probably shaking from the orgasm he’d just unloaded into my ass.
And I laughed. Giddy. Exhausted. Fucked stupid.
“It’s a good thing you live right across the street,” I murmured, licking my lips. “Just stand at the window shirtless and I’ll be over in just under two minutes..”
Adam grinned. “Right after work, I’ll unload in you.”
He said it like a promise. Then walked backwards, grabbed his shorts off the floor and wore them loosely around his waist, tossed his T-shirt over his shoulder and left.
I turned to Chris, still catching his breath.
Adam meant it when he said “Dude,,You have to like… blow me every single day after work.”
I’m not even sure how it became routine.
Monday to Friday, I gave Adam the kind of stress relief most guys only dream about. He’d get home from work around six-thirty. Still in his dress socks, tie loose, chest rising under that tight undershirt as he stood in front of the window, always in his trunks, like it was our unspoken signal.
The first day, he texted:
“I’m at the window.”
And like a trained dog, I was out my door, across the alley, knocking on his door. No questions. Just heat.
I dropped to my knees. He didn’t have to say a word. I sucked him off like it was my last meal. Hands on his thighs. My nose buried against him. Swallowing everything. And when I left, I could still taste him on my tongue.
It only took one text on Monday for me to learn his routine.
By Tuesday, I was already waiting, casually glancing at the clock around 6:30, pretending I wasn’t checking the alley window every other minute. And sure enough, there he was….late by three minutes, but still in those same Calvin Klein trunks, still leaning against the sill like he owned me. He didn’t text. He didn’t have to.
By Wednesday, it was Pavlovian. I was already half-hard before I even knocked on his door.
By Thursday, I started to get cocky with it. Pushed deeper. Let him fuck my throat, gag me a little, moan against him just to feel him twitch. He never talked much during it. Mostly just deep breathing, some rough grunts, a hand on the back of my neck. But that day?
He let out this low groan and whispered, “Fucking hell… you are my throat goat.”
I nearly laughed with his cock in my mouth. But also? That did things to me.
Friday was wild. He came so fast I didn’t even get my shorts off. Something about the way he was already half hard when I walked in. His hands trembled a little when he pulled me closer. I tasted him for hours after.
And then… Saturday.
I waited.
Same time. Same place. Sat in my window seat, sketchpad in my lap but no real intention to draw. Just glancing across every few minutes. Expecting him. Needing him.
Nothing.
Five minutes pass. Ten. Fifteen.
I check my phone. No message. I consider texting him. I even type out,
“You back?”
But I don’t send it. I don’t want to be that guy. Clingy. Obsessive.
I mean i was definitely obsessed with my hot neighbor, but I couldn’t show that.
Instead, I clean the kitchen. Fold some laundry. Dust the damn bookshelf like it matters. But I keep glancing up.
Still nothing.
By the time 45 minutes pass, I’ve convinced myself he’s ghosted. That maybe I did too much. Maybe I made it weird. Maybe I should’ve pulled back on Friday instead of deepthroating him until he collapsed back on the bed, sweaty and panting like I’d blown his soul out.
So I retreat to the canvas. My safe space.
I paint. Big, messy strokes. Reds and grays and this anxious kind of blue that makes my teeth hurt when I look at it. I’m not thinking…just moving. Just trying not to feel the weird hollowness in my chest. The craving.
Then I glance up again.
And there he is.
Adam.
In the window. Fully dressed this time. Not in his work clothes…no. He’s wearing a black leather jacket, open just enough to show off the cling of his shirt underneath. His hair looks slightly wet. Maybe gelled. His jaw’s clenched, but there’s a looseness to his posture, like he just got back from somewhere loud.
And he’s not alone.
There’s a woman with him.
She steps into view like she belongs there. Laughs at something he says. Tosses her hair over one shoulder and drops onto Adam’s bed.
I freeze.
Suddenly I’m hyper-aware of everything. My unwashed paint-stained shirt. The fact that my tongue still remembers what his dick tastes like. The week I spent choking on him while he grunted and pulled my hair like I was just some toy.
My stomach knots.
I watch, unable to stop myself. He offers her a drink. Her laugh is louder this time. She stretches her legs out, kicks her heels off, and when he sits down beside her, she leans in like it’s natural. Like she knows that space belongs to her.
I should look away.
I don’t.
My fingers tighten around the brush. Red paint splashes across the canvas. It looks violent now.
I know what this is. I’ve seen this scene before. Not here, but in a hundred different guys. “Straight” until someone’s watching. “Curious” until they get what they want. I was fun for the week. The convenient fuck. The secret. The mouth that doesn’t talk back.
She kisses him.
It’s soft at first. Then deeper. Her hand moves to his thigh.
I can’t breathe.
I close the curtain. Slowly. Like it’ll hurt less that way.
I couldn’t watch the man I was obsessed with kiss someone else.
I sink back into the living room and throw on some rom-com. Something brainless. Something stupid. But the tears surprise me. Just one or two, sliding down while some overly attractive actor on screen delivers a line that’s meant to be swoony. I can’t even hear it.
My throat feels dry. Not like before.
By now, most nights, I’d be kneeling for him. I’d have his cock down my throat. I’d be swallowing everything he gave me without a second thought. My lips would be bruised. My knees sore. My chest heaving with pride and hunger and whatever the fuck this thing is that he makes me feel.
But not tonight.
Fifteen minutes pass. Maybe twenty. I’m not watching the movie. I’m just thinking about him. His mouth. His voice. The quiet way he groans when I take him deep.
I can’t take it anymore. I get up. My feet move before I’ve even decided. I walk to the window. Gently pull back the curtain.
And there he is.
His back to the glass. Naked. Bare ass jiggling.
He’s fucking her.
I freeze. My breath catches.
He’s panting. Aggressive. His hips driving forward in rough, deep strokes. She’s bent over the edge of the bed, face buried in the pillows, her body jolting with every thrust. He’s holding her hair in one hand, the other gripping his own hip, steadying himself.
My chest goes cold.
That should’ve been me.
I should be on my knees. Or bent over for him. Or under him. Anywhere, as long as it was me.
I feel it…jealousy. Sharp. Ugly. Hot.
I hate her.
I hate how her moans are echoing through the alley. I hate the way his muscles tense, the way sweat drips down his spine, the way I know exactly what he feels like in this moment…..because I’ve felt it, tasted it, craved it all fucking week.
And just when I think I can’t take another second…
He turns.
Looks straight at me.
A slow, deliberate smirk tugs at his lips.
Then, without missing a beat, he keeps fucking her.
Smirking, I exhaled and muttered, “Mission successful.”
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