I first saw him through the sliding glass doors of my study, moving into the pool house across the yard. His name was Leo, and he was the new live-in assistant for my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Gable. I was forty-eight, a divorced architect with too much time on my hands since my daughter left for college. Leo was twenty-two, all sun-bleached hair and tan lines, with a swimmer’s build that made my mouth go dry.
That summer, the heat was oppressive, and Leo took to swimming in Mrs. Gable’s pool every afternoon after his chores. Heโd strip down to a pair of tiny black briefs that left nothing to the imagination. Iโd watch from behind the blinds, my heart pounding, as he dove into the water, his body cutting through the blue with a grace that was almost painful to behold.
One Tuesday, a storm knocked out the power on their side of the property. Mrs. Gable, flustered, called me. โMichael, dear, could Leo come over and use your shower? Ours isnโt working with the electricity out.โ
I said yes before I could think.
Twenty minutes later, Leo stood at my front door, a towel slung over his shoulder, droplets of rain clinging to his hair. โMr. Thorne? Mrs. Gable sent me.โ
โCome in,โ I said, my voice tighter than I intended. โThe bathroomโs upstairs, first door on the left.โ
He gave me a slow, appraising look. โThanks.โ
I listened to the shower run, trying to focus on the newspaper in my hands. When he came back down, he was dressed in clean jeans and a white t-shirt that clung to his damp chest. He didnโt leave immediately. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe to the living room.
โYou watch me swim,โ he stated, no question in his tone.
This Content Is Only For Subscribers
I froze. Denial was on my lips, but the look in his green eyes stopped me. He knew.
โSometimes,โ I admitted, the word a whisper.
A smirk played on his lips. โI donโt mind. Itโs kinda hot, actually.โ He pushed off the doorframe and took a step closer. โYouโre always working in your study. I see you too.โ
The air between us crackled. He was close enough that I could smell the clean scent of my soap on his skin.
โI shouldnโtโฆโ I began, but he cut me off.
โWhy not? Weโre both adults.โ His hand came up, fingertips brushing the stubble on my jaw. โIโve been wanting to do this since I first saw you.โ
Then he kissed me.
It wasnโt tentative. It was deep and hungry, his tongue pushing past my lips, claiming my mouth. I groaned, my hands coming up to grip his hips, pulling him against me. I could feel the hard line of his erection through our jeans. My own cock was straining against my zipper.
We broke apart, breathing heavily. โUpstairs,โ I managed to say.
He followed me, his eyes burning into my back. In my bedroom, with the afternoon light filtering through the blinds, we didnโt waste time with words. We tore at each otherโs clothes. His t-shirt went over his head, revealing a sculpted chest with tight, pink nipples. I pushed his jeans down, and he kicked them off, standing naked before me. His cock was thick and uncut, already leaking pre-cum. It curved up toward his navel, beautiful and demanding.
I dropped to my knees.
The first taste of him was salt and skin. I took the head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the foreskin. He gasped, his hands tangling in my hair. โFuck, yesโฆ just like that.โ
I took him deeper, my throat relaxing as I worked him with my mouth. His hips began to move, a shallow thrusting. I looked up to see him watching me, his lips parted, his expression one of pure lust. I reached between his legs to cup his balls, rolling them gently. His thighs tensed.
โIโm gonna come if you keep doing that,โ he warned.
I pulled off with a wet pop. โNot yet.โ I stood up and pushed him onto the bed. He went willingly, spreading his legs. I knelt between them, leaning down to lick a stripe from his balls to the tip of his cock. Then I moved lower, pressing my tongue against his tight hole.
He jerked. โOh, godโฆ no oneโs everโฆโ
I ate him out with fervor, my tongue probing and circling. He writhed beneath me, his hands fisting the sheets. When he was loose and wet, I reached for the lube in my nightstand. I coated my fingers and pushed one inside him. He was incredibly tight. I worked him open slowly, adding a second finger, scissoring them. His moans were music.
โI need you inside me,โ he begged, his eyes dark with need. โNow.โ
I slicked my cock, which was painfully hard. I positioned myself at his entrance and pushed in slowly. The heat and tightness were overwhelming. He wrapped his legs around my waist, pulling me deeper until I was fully sheathed. We both groaned in unison.
I started to move, a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust dragged a gasp from his lips. His cock bounced against his stomach, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. I leaned down to kiss him, swallowing his moans. The pace quickened. The bed rocked against the wall. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room.
โHarder,โ he urged, his nails digging into my back.
I obliged, pounding into him with abandon. His legs tightened around me. โIโm closeโฆ so closeโฆโ
I reached between us to stroke his cock in time with my thrusts. After a few strokes, he cried out, his body seizing as he came, stripes of white painting his chest and stomach. The clenching of his ass around my cock sent me over the edge. I buried myself deep and came with a shout, my vision whiting out as I emptied myself inside him.
We collapsed together, sweaty and spent. I slipped out of him, and he winced slightly. We lay there for a long time, just breathing.
That was only the beginning.
Over the next weeks, Leo found reasons to come over almost daily. We fucked in every room of the house. On the kitchen counter, with him bent over, me taking him from behind while he braced himself against the sink. In the shower, water sluicing over our bodies as I fucked him against the tile wall, his cries echoing off the glass. On the living room floor, with him riding me, his head thrown back in ecstasy.
One afternoon, he brought a blindfold and silk ties. He tied my wrists to the headboard and teased me for what felt like hours with his mouth and hands, denying me release until I was begging. Then he mounted me, taking my cock into his tight heat, controlling the pace until we both shattered.
We explored every fantasy. He loved when I talked dirty to him, telling him how good his ass felt, how I wanted to fill him up. He, in turn, loved to suck me off, deep-throating my cock until tears streamed from his eyes.
The summer burned on, and our encounters grew more intense. One night, during a thunderstorm, he showed up at my door, soaked to the skin. We didnโt even make it to the bedroom. I fucked him right there in the foyer, his back against the front door, his legs hooked over my arms as I drove into him, the storm raging outside matching the tempest inside me.
The last week before he was due to leave for grad school, we spent an entire weekend in bed. We ordered takeout, barely ate, and just fucked. We tried positions weโd seen in porn, we used toys Iโd ordered online, we came so many times I lost count. On the final night, he asked me to take him one last time, slowly, looking into his eyes. I did. It was the most intimate moment of my life. When I came inside him, he whispered, โIโll never forget this summer.โ
The next morning, he was gone. Mrs. Gableโs pool house was empty. My house felt emptier. But sometimes, when the heat is just right and the light slants through the blinds in a certain way, I can still see him diving into the blue water, and I feel the ghost of his lips on mine.
