Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2023 04:35:42 -0600
From: Xhaiden Angel <xangel.author@gmail.com>
Subject: A Year With Mr. Yates 1

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January 02

Nathaniel Yates unpacked the first box at two-thirty in the morning. Most
of the neighborhood slept while he worked to get his new home in order.
Unpacking the second box went faster because he had an idea of where he
wanted his stuff to go. By the time he knocked out the sixth box, the sun
was coming up. Light spilled across the clean linoleum in the kitchen,
making patterns through the sheer curtains. He knocked out one more box
before starting a pot of coffee. At thirty-five, he didn't need it but he
loved French Roast one-shots in his Keurig.

In the house across the street, Dillon Curry woke up before the others in
his house and decided on a shower before breakfast. At twenty-one years
old, he was older than most of his friends, which meant they pestered him
to buy beer for them. He didn't but they kept asking. Most of them, he
thought, just wanted to sleep with him. On his way to the bathroom, he
noticed the truck in the driveway across the street and the boxes in the
back. There was also a light on in the kitchen, after almost six months of
the house being empty.

Nathaniel came out to grab one last box from the truck. He put the broken
down boxes in the back and gave the January sky a look. He hoped it would
stay like this until he had a chance to get into town and get things he
needed for the kitchen. As he took the box to the front door, he noticed
the house across the street and the kid standing on the porch. Staring at
him. He waved. The kid waved back. Couldn't be more than twenty, Nathaniel
thought, opening the door and wedging it open with his shoulder. He came
inside, dropped the box and went back to close the door. The kid was at the
end of the driveway, now. He was wearing a coat and one of those slouched
hats. Not bad looking, Nathaniel thought. He gave the kid one last thought,
one last wave, then closed the door.

At one in the afternoon, a light snow started.

Dillon's last class ended at three and he was home by four. Standing at his
upstairs window, he watched the truck pull in across the street. The guy
from this morning got out and came around to the back and let the tailgate
down. Dillon noticed the way the man's jeans rode the lower part of his
hips. He also noticed the shortness of his t-shirt and how it showed a
thick patch of hair on his lower back. Dillon smiled at this, thinking of
the other places thick hair might decide to grow on an older, mustached,
bearded neighbor moving in next door.

At five the same evening, the snow started to stick to the roads.

In his house, Nathaniel put away his clothes. All his shirts were hung by
color and his dress pants got their own place on the rack. Jeans were
folded and put in their own cubby places. In his dresser drawer, he put his
everyday socks into the left side of the organizer. Silk socks went on the
right. Everyday cotton jockstraps went on the left. Expensive ones, sorted
by color, went on the right. None of his jocks were white or black. All of
them were colored and so were his briefs. The pair of Calvins he had on
were a light blue and hugged his ass like a horny lover.



In the Curry house, Dillon decided snacking sounded better than
studying. On his way into the kitchen, he glanced out a window to get a
feel for the snow. Through a crack in the curtain, he saw movement in the
downstairs bedroom across the street. Intrigued, he went to the window to
see what he could see. Without curtains across the large glass panes, he
could see what had to be a queen-sized bed and a pair of nightstands. A
dresser faced one wall and a chair looked back. A lamp on either stand lit
the room, giving it an eerie feeling with all the frost on the
glass. Dillon wondered about the person sleeping in that big bed -- and if
they would be sleeping alone.



January 9

After making his coffee, Nathaniel went to his bedroom window to examine
his new neighborhood. Not a lot of other houses, just the one across the
street and two others he could see from the window. A tall hedge running
along a high privacy fence separated his own house from his neighbor's
house. According to the realtor, the house was empty and would be until
summer. Running a hand over his lower stomach, letting his fingers tangle
in the thick mat of hair, he sipped his coffee again. The fingers dipped
into the waistband of his sweatpants, his thumb hooking there. As he looked
out over the neighborhood, he caught sight of the neighbor kid coming out
onto their porch and closing the door behind him. To test a little theory,
he took a few steps away from the window. When the kid came down the drive,
Nathaniel waved to him. The kid didn't wave back.

The semester starts earlier every year, Dillon thought as he started down
the sidewalk to class. Glancing over at the neighbor's house, he noticed
the truck and the lack of tracks. He's still home, Dillon thought. Maybe
still in bed. Maybe still in bed...naked. Dillon smiled. Still in
bed...naked...and jerking off. He shook his head as he walked on. Snow
started halfway to school and would add five inches to the day's count.

January 17

Dillon woke to the sound of his parents, Preston and Margaret Curry,
talking in the hallway outside his room. Pushing himself up and out of his
bed, he walked to the window. Naked. If anybody saw him, it was on them, he
thought. The truck was still in the drive. No tracks. Whoever this new
neighbor was, he didn't burn up the roads. Still no curtains on the
downstairs bedroom, the one nearest the tall hedge and privacy fence of the
old Dutton house.  While he watched, a pair of bare feet appeared on the
floor of the bedroom across the street. They were attached to bare legs,
which went on up to a pair of light blue briefs. Even from this distance,
Dillon could see the bulge in the briefs and it looked big.

Nathaniel sipped his coffee. The person who built his house must have loved
light because when they turned their garage into this bedroom, they
replaced the doors with huge windows. Frosted all the way around, the glass
had some kind of treatment on it to keep out the glare but let in the
light. Icicles glistened in the dim morning light. Nathaniel came closer
and looked out at the clouds. While he followed them across the sky, a
curious hand slid into his briefs. It felt good to be alone in his house,
able to touch himself whenever the fuck he wanted without anyone bitching
about it. He closed his hand around his cock and gave it several long,
loving strokes.

From the window across the street, Dillon could tell what the guy was
doing. Even if the dead rose bushes got in the way a little, he knew the
neighbor was touching himself. He wasn't subtle about it, either. Why would
he be? The Garners were on vacation until February. The Bakers kept their
place buttoned up, even when they were home. Mr. Fenway, the older guy two
houses down, was visiting his daughter until February. The neighbor didn't
have anybody to worry about. Dillon smiled as he felt his own morning
hardon remind him of its existence.

Nathaniel tucked the briefs under his balls. They fell low and heavy over
the fabric and he caressed their smooth surface. Spreading his legs, he
rested his head on the cool glass as he stroked the length of his cock. Its
fleshy sheath pulled away from the smooth head, letting him get his thumb
in under the head for a few pleasurable strokes. Smiling, he caressed his
full length, tugging on his balls and thinking very dirty thoughts about
the sheriff he met at the gas station a few days back. His briefs slipped
down in the back, letting the cool air kiss his hairy asscrack. The sheriff
became the kid next door, the one with the coat and slouchy hat. Closing
his eyes, his own hand became that of the kid, working the shaft and paying
special attention to his skin and head. Precum oozed from the slit and he
envisioned the kid using it to grease up his shaft.

Dillon sighed, as he slowed his own hand. "Oh, my Jesus, the guy's got
balls. Literally."

From his window, he watched the full-bodied neighbor caress and fondle his
sac like there wasn't another soul in the world. The briefs held them up
but they were slipping in the back. Dillon could see a meaty, hairy ass
being exposed and his mouth watered. Average build, not a gym-rat, with a
little bit of stomach. Nice legs, thick and sturdy. A beautiful ass, from
what he could see at this angle. Dillon stroked himself as he watched the
neighbor doing the same.

"So much goddamned hair." He sighed again. "I'll bet you're the best thing
to snuggle up to when the temperatures drop."

Gliding his thumb over the head of his dick, Nathaniel took a second to
taste it. Strong, like some exotic blend served by the spoonful. Looking
down, shaggy dark curls fell into his eyes. The head of his dick expanded
and his balls tightened. The briefs acted sort of like a cockring, keeping
his dick hard. He threw back his head to get the hair out of his eyes. That
was when he glimpsed the upstairs window of the house next door. The kid
from the porch was naked. Jerking off.

"Aren't you a perv," Nathaniel said, looking away quick. "Not today,
son. Not today."

"Son of a bitch!" Dillon shouted when the neighbor turned away from the
window. "Just when it was getting good, too!"

January 21

Margaret got her oldest son, Dodge, to shovel the driveway. Preston put
down some salt because the weather channel said they were in for six more
inches. As he announced this to the breakfast table, Dillon chuckled. "I
could take six more inches," he mumbled, pouring his cereal. Across the
table, his brother smirked.

"Anybody know the guy across the street?" Dillon asked, pouring the
milk. "Name, I mean."

"Nathaniel Yates," his mother said, getting up to gather her
things. "Construction and contracting. He's a transplant from Florida. Word
is, he's going to flip the old Dutton house and move on."

Dillon wolfed down his cereal, then brought his bowl to the sink. Making a
show out of washing it, he glanced at the open window in the downstairs
bedroom. Nothing. He thought about going over, introducing himself, but put
the thought out of his mind.

Dodge interrupted his father with a strange question about college and
Preston replied. Dillon kept his eyes on the now-Yates house and was
surprised to see the front door open and his neighbor walk out. The man
jogged down to the end of his driveway. Jogged. He wore a coat, hat, socks,
shoes, and the shortest pair of shorts Dillon ever saw on a man. They
bulged hard in the front, outlining what Dillon knew was a nice-sized,
uncut dick.

Seeing his neighbor in those shorts, Dillon started forming a plan.

"You listening?"

The dishtowel slapped him on the shoulder, making Dillon face his
brother. "What is it? I was thinking about something important!"

"I'm thinking of going to Denver for the next semester. I wondered what you
thought."

He gave a strange, distant answer but his mind was still focused on his
neighbor and formulating his plan for getting closer to the man with the
short, tight shorts, hairy body, and nice-looking dick. He was glad when
his brother gave up and went on his way. It gave him more time to think,
more time to plan, and more time to figure out what the hell he was going
to wear.

January 25

In just a hunter-green jock, Nathaniel dropped his weary body onto his
bed. Smelling of sweat, soap, and a little cleaner, he rolled onto his
back. The thick forest of his underarms trapped his stink and kept it fresh
for when he wanted to take a quick hit. Raising his arms, he let the scent
float in all around him. Even in high school, nineteen years ago, he could
stink up the locker room. His mother bitched about the stink of his room
from leaving his sweaty t-shirts all over. Fuck her, he thought, turning
his face into his right armpit. I loved how I smelled, then and now. So did
little Davey Midland, the freshman he gifted one of his t-shirts to after a
particularly aggressive and damned good blowjob. Little Davey knew his way
around a cock and he deserved it. Nathaniel thought about the grown-up
Davey -- with his harpy wife and brood of nine kids. Three sets of
twins. Poor Davey.

Thinking back to that night in the back of his car, sweet little Davey on
his knees in the floor, wide brown eyes looking up at him like Oliver
saying, "Please, sir, can I have some more?" Nathaniel rubbed himself
through his jock, excited by the memory and Davey's full, pink lips parting
for his cock. The car had been hot as fuck because it was June and before
getting to Davey's house, he'd ran the heater for the twenty minute drive
-- so he'd be nice and ripe. Getting into the car, stinking of his armpits,
the kid looked like he'd gone from sober to pit-drunk in about two
seconds. Nathaniel stroked himself through the fabric as he thought about
the way Davey looked at him as he closed the car door.

Slipping the pouch out and around his dick, Nathaniel let it stand up and
breathe. His dick had a curve to it, but it wasn't a C or anything. Davey
was so gentle when he first touched the foreskin. He kissed it. Slid his
tongue into the rim. Sucked it into his mouth and gave it a playful
chew. Nathaniel's dick twitched as he recalled the whole thing. They were
on a back road, way away from anything or anybody. He'd taken off his shirt
and Davey was inhaling the pits, getting harder with every hit. In between
sniffs, he licked and sucked on the first few inches of Nathaniel's thick
eight inches. It took some coaxing but he was able to take the first three
without gagging. Nathaniel stroked those three inches, thinking about the
warm, slick mouth taking him in.

 In his mind, he pictured Davey, curly brown hair, long face, scrawny but
toned body. Everybody knew about Davey's love for dick. By the time he
entered freshman year, he'd done the junior baseball team because he was
their manager. He was working his way through the tenth-grade softball
team. Nathaniel was number twelve and Davey did the team by the literal
numbers. On the night it was his turn, he wanted it to last because rumor
was, Davey was damned good at what he did.

On the bed, Nathaniel spread his legs and let his other hand slip under his
balls to caress the crack of his ass. He stroked himself as his fingers
slipped in and found his sweaty hole. The odor of his armpits and the
memory of a warm mouth made his dick throb. He sped up his stroking just a
little, squeezing precum from the head to slicken his palm.

Dillon snuck out the back door and crept out along the side of his
house. Going one house over, he went down the side of their house to the
road, then around the back of the house surrounded by the privacy
fence. Sliding in between the fence and the hedge took some doing but he
kept going until he had the best view in the whole damned neighborhood.

"Fuck me," he muttered, peering into the neighbor's window. "You're a
regular freak."

Nathaniel's thick fingers slid into the warm, now-wet asshole. His freed
dick throbbed, spitting out a glob of thick cum, which ran down the shaft
and collected in his wild, untrimmed pubic hair. He took another hit from
his left armpit, then sped up his fingers. The invasion made his dick jump,
making him groan. In his mind, little Davey was making love to his dick,
mouthing and sucking at a slow, steady pace -- the one his fingers were
moving to.

Behind the hedge, hidden by the angle and the lack of direct light, Dillon
watched the man's legs flex and release, slide up and down on the bed. The
fingers worked deep into his hole, moving back and forth at a speed Dillon
thought would feel amazing if it were him the man was fingering. Raising
one leg, the man's fingers got all the way in and it was obvious he was
groaning. Dillon unbuttoned his pants but was slow in pulling them
down. The cold was real and it was not going away just because he was
getting hot watching this man finger himself.

Slick fingers slid in easier and Nathaniel had Davey to thank for that
lesson. While he was making love to cock, he had the guys slide to the edge
of the seat and put their legs over his shoulders. That was why he asked
Nathaniel to take off his jeans before they started. Davey, shirtless, went
on sucking and licking as Nathaniel put his meaty legs over the kid's
shoulders. It felt a little weird when Davey's fingers started working into
his crack. Not knowing what else to do with his hands, Nathaniel took hold
of his cheeks and pulled them apart. Davey got off his dick long enough to
squeeze the head and get his fingers wet with precum. Then, when he went
back to sucking, he slipped both those fingers into Nathaniel's sweaty,
slick asshole. Since then, he was hooked on having somebody play with his
hole while they blew him -- or doing it himself when he jerked off.

The head of his dick expanded as he fingered himself. He was close to
reaching tonight's personal goal. He slowed his fingers, feeling the
fullness of his balls shift. He pulled the hunter-green jock down but kept
the waistband under his balls. He spread his legs again and his dick oozed
out another few globs of his precum. The stuff made great lube and he still
produced enough of the stuff to float a small ship.

Dillon watched with anxious, dirty pleasure as the neighbor worked his hand
back and forth into his ass. He was really turned on when the man swiped
his thumb over his dick's head with the other hand, then licked it off.

"You pervy bastard," the boy said, grinning. "You love the stuff right from
the source, huh?"

Nathaniel's whole body worked along with his fingers. The faster he went,
the harder his muscles flexed, and the slower he went, the more precum
oozed from his dick. Soon, he found an in-between and his body moved in a
rocking motion along with his hands. He felt the tug of his balls and knew
he was even closer now.

Dillon watched the thickness of the man's dick sway as his fingers
moved. In spite of the cold, he had pushed his pants down just enough to
get his own dick free and give it several long, loving strokes. Warm precum
oozed from his slit, falling into the snow. He could not take his eyes off
the man now planting both feel on his mattress and speeding up his
fingers. From this distance, he could see the man's mouth open and thought
he could hear a groan. It could have been his own voice but he did not
care. He watched the man's ass come up off the bed and imagined he could
hear him scream--

"FUCK! Oh, FUCK yeah!!" Nathaniel roared as he felt his cock throb one last
time.

Without touching himself, he exploded. Cum ripped out of his dick, arching
in the air and landing hard on his hairy chest with a thick sound. Another
hard jet of the stuff shot out, landing on his upper shoulder. He tensed
his whole body as his orgasm shook him. Cum spattered on his nipples, his
chin, and on his upper arm. The stuff was like a small river as he lost
himself in the sensation and the memory of sweet little Davey fingering his
sweaty hole and swallowing his massive load.

Dillon imagined his mouth on the head, taking it all as the man roared and
thrashed the way he was doing on the bed. The boy's hand, now closed around
his own sizable dick, worked the full shaft at a rate he knew would get him
off in no time. The neighbor started cleaning himself up, with his fingers!
He would swipe and lick, swipe and suck, until all of his thick cum
disappeared into his mouth. Dillon groaned, his own hips jerking forward as
his dick swelled one last time.

"Fuck...yeah..." he mumbled, watching his own cum leap out. "Goddamn!"

After watching Nathaniel clean himself the rest of the way, Dillon waited
until the man turned out his light. When he was sure he wouldn't be seen,
he went back the way he came and to his house. Slipping back into his room,
he fell against the door, recounting the hairy man and his slick fingers
making his dick explode. Sighing, Dillon slid down the door. Before
deciding to go to bed, he unzipped his pants, shoved them down, then
started another, slower, warmer session of jerking off to the hairy
neighbor. All the while, he imagined his own hand working the man's slick
hole. This got him off faster than watching. As he shot out another load,
he caught some on his fingers. Like the neighbor did, he licked it off and
savored the taste.

"Guess I'm a perv, now, too," he said, swiping his hand through his load
for more. "Always have been."

January 30

Margaret packed. Dillon finished his shower, or tried to. Dodge, now in
nothing but a towel, kept dumping cups of cold water from the sink on
him. Downstairs, Preston did the last of the month's budgeting for his
job. He looked up long enough to see his wife wave to him as she was moving
out the door. He shook his head but said nothing. Upstairs, it sounded like
Dillon and Dodge had started a game of tag. He put his work to the side and
his head in his hands.

"For the love of fuck," he muttered. "The two of you would drive a man to
drink."

On his way downstairs, Dillon slowed, then stopped on the bottom
step. Across the street, a car pulled into the neighbor's driveway. The
door opened and someone got out. Before he could see who it was, Dodge ran
down the steps, knocking him off the last one. With a final shout of, "Dad
says pack your stuff so he can take you back to the dorms!" he was gone.

Dillon turned back just in time to see the car's passenger going up the
steps to the neighbor's porch. With their back to him, Dillon couldn't make
out anything but a slender build, tight ass, and a quick flash of a bright
pink t-shirt. The neighbor opened the door. The way he smiled, he was happy
to see his guest. Dillon watched this mysterious new person disappear
inside. The neighbor, smiling bigger, closed the door.

"Well, well, well," Dillon muttered to himself. "Wonder who Pink Shirt Guy
is...and what he's doing at the neighbor's house."

End of Chapter One: January