STEPHEN:

    When my best friend Neil O'Hara called me on a Friday, I was busy helping my son Rory move some furniture in his new house so I had to decline the call. When Neil texted on a Saturday, I was in the middle of driving with my wife to the supermarket, so I ignored the text. I didn't remember to get back to Neil until Tuesday evening. I was in the shower, harboring a feeling that I was forgetting something. "Shit, I never called Neil back!" I swore out loud when it finally hit me. A minute later, I got out and grabbed a towel in one hand and my cell phone in the other, calling Neil before I was even dry.

    "Hey buddy! Sorry I forgot to call you earlier. Can you talk now?" I asked while rubbing my hairy balls with the towel.

    "Yeah. I'm actually home alone tonight. Can you drop by?" my friend asked.

    Neil lived at the end of the cul-de-sac, just a few doors away, so it wasn't unusual for us to go see each other in person rather than talk on the phone. However, tonight I could sense in his voice that something was off.

    "No problem. Is everything okay?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

    "It's fine. We'll talk when you get here," he replied curtly, which was some more cause for concern.

    "Sure. I just got out the shower so lemme put some clothes on and I'll be right there," I said.

    "Don't put on anything too swanky just for me," he said. I was happy to hear him make a joke – that must be a good sign.

    "I'll make sure to wear my fancy lingerie," I quipped, making us both laugh. "I'll be right there, buddy."

    As I pulled my socks and sweatpants on, I kept thinking "please don't let Neil be sick." He and I were both well into our 50s by now, so every time we talked to our friends it seemed like they had a new illness to complain about. At least Neil was a beloved neurosurgeon at our local hospital, so I knew that if anything was wrong he would receive the utmost treatment. 

    When my friend answered his front door, I had to hold back from going "whoa!" It wasn't unusual for Neil's chin to be covered in a graying ginger stubble, but it was never more than a couple of days' worth. Tonight, it looked like he hadn't shaved in at least a week, and the unruly state of his beard took away from his normally handsome face.

    "Growing a Santa beard in time for Christmas?" I asked as I let myself into the house.

    "Nah. Haven't been to work in a few days so I didn't bother shaving," Neil said.

    "Why are you off work?" I enquired, walking straight to the living room and helping myself to a glass of scotch from Neil's bar. I could already see his half-empty glass waiting for him at the table. He walked to it and emptied it bottoms-up before saying,

    "Tiffany and I are getting a divorce."

    Internally, my reaction was "phew!" Compared to my fears of a potential illness (which had only grown graver since I saw the state Neil was in) a divorce wasn't that big of a deal. Still, I was sympathetic, and I made sure to express that to my bud. He and his wife had been together since college – over 30 years now! Obviously this was a huge thing for him.

    "Let's sit down, man. Tell me what's wrong," I placed an arm around Neil's shoulders and guided him to the couch, where we took a seat. 

    It was the usual scenario of irreconcilable differences. "Not one thing, just a million little pieces," Neil revealed. Lately they'd been increasingly distant. They'd both caught themselves flirting with strangers just for the attention. "We used to have a wild sex life," Neil reminded me. "Lately: zilch."

    Since we were young, when we first moved in on Stag Meadow Lane, I knew all about Neil and Tiff's sexual adventurousness. Of course, over the decades it depreciated, but that was to be expected. Who the hell has the same sex life at 50 that they had at 20?!

    Looking around the living room, I could tell several items were missing: a couple of paintings, pretty much every vase, the little decorative tchotchkes that Tiffany must've taken with her. She was out of the house. This was definite.

    Neil's kids were adults. They were already out of the house, living their own lives. I wasn't worried about them. But I did worry about my best friend.

    "So, what's next?" I asked him, patting his knee reassuringly. Neil was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants that he probably hadn't taken off in a week, and his white Eagles shirt had multiple stains on it.

    "Shit, what's next, go back to dating? Start clicking on those 'single senior citizens in your area' ads?" Neil whined. 

    "Oh, shut up. You're handsome, decently fit, and you have an excellent job. You could land a 19-year-old by the end of the week if that's what you wanted," I said, rolling my eyes. I sympathized with Neil, but I wasn't about to let him wallow in sorrow and get all dramatic.

    "Oh great. We can do TikTok dances together," Neil rolled his eyes.

    "You know what I mean," I said, taking a small sip of my scotch. "It's not the end of the world. If you wanna date, you can date. If you wanna be single for a while, you can be single for a while."

    "I think I wanna… I'm not sure if 'date' is the right word, but… I think I wanna have some fun for a while," Neil admitted. "Like we did when we were younger, you know?"

    "One midlife crisis, coming up," I noted jokingly.

    "Fuck you, I've earned it!" Neil said, getting up and pouring himself more whiskey. "I wanna have sex and not worry about commitment."

    "I hear ya," I nodded empathically as my buddy downed his new drink. Then, Neil smirked at me, and I could swear I saw a twitch in the crotch of his pajama pants.

    "Remember the time I sucked your cock?" my friend asked me out of the blue, standing by the bar and facing me.

    "Yeah. Wow, that was a while ago," I reminisced. "The day Rory was born. He's 25 now."

    "Ever had a guy suck you off since?" my buddy asked next. By now, there was DEFINITELY significant growth in his pants, tenting them forward.

    "I have," I confessed.

    "You ever sucked someone off?" Neil asked, sounding more sultry than I'd ever heard him.

    Just like that, Neil's fly was pushed open by my best friend's cock, which came out in a state of semi-erection. Since the fly had no buttons and no zipper, Neil's growing tool was able to make its own way out – and my bud didn't look the least bit embarrassed by it! If anything, Neil continued to grin proudly, as if showing off, swinging his hips left-to-right and wagging his dick just a few feet away from my face.​​

    "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" he asked teasingly.

    "I was just… dickstracted, that's all," I said, proud of my own pun. "Funny you would ask, but I just sucked someone off for the first time. Just last week, on my trip to Provincetown."

    "Ah. Provincetown lives up to its reputation, I see," Neil said, his bare feet stepping closer and closer to me. He made no effort whatsoever to tuck his exposed cock away.

    "What can I say. I was drunk and horny," I shrugged, eyeing my buddy's tool thirstily, wondering if the glisten on its tip was precum.

    "Are you drunk now?" Neil asked me, coming to a standstill right in front of me, mere inches away.

    "No. You've had two drinks but I've barely had a sip of mine," I noted. "I'm stone-cold sober."

    "You should drink up then," Neil smirked as he looked down at me. Even with a dirty T-shirt on, he looked good. If anything, his unkemptness made him… hotter, in a way. Was that possible? I distinctly remember thinking he looked rough when he first answered the door. Now, the unruly beard kinda made him manlier in my eyes.​​

    Neil set his empty glass on the table and looked back at me. He was standing between my legs, looking down at me and radiating energy unlike anything I'd ever felt from him in almost 30 years of living on the same street. He maintained the intense eye contact, only breaking it off for a second when Neil took off his T-shirt.

    "You wanna suck my cock, don't you?" he asked me point blank.

    "Yes," I nodded.

    "What do you say then?" asked Neil.

    "May I suck your cock, please?" I found myself saying to my friend. I looked up at him with a smile, and he grinned back. Neil tilted his hips forward, bringing his cock even closer to my face. I took a final sip of my drink, set it down… and proceeded to go to town on my buddy's cock.

    I surprised myself a little with how enthusiastically I was working his shaft with my hand and licking the head with my tongue. While this wasn't completely a new experience for me, the only other time I'd done this, I'd been very drunk. Thinking back on it almost felt like remembering a vivid dream, it seemed almost unreal.

    But here I was now, sober, and sitting in a living room that felt almost as familiar as my own. And I was sucking Neil's dick, of all people! I suppose if I'd had to guess which one of my longtime friends I was most likely to hook up with, Neil would have been at the top of the list. We did have a "history" after all, mild as it was. And Neil had always had a kinky side. This was still a trip, though.

    I worked more and more of his shaft into my mouth, and I marveled how different this actually was from the experience with Will. My son's college buddy was all grown up of course, with a kid of his own, but because he and Rory were the same age, Will would always be "one of the boys" in my mind. The fun with him had felt like when I messed around with Owen and my sons. Neil was one of my peers, and I found my mind going to all kinds of unexpected places.

    His cock was thicker than Will's, and while it wasn't quite the size of Owen's, Neil's was hairier and just felt very... impressive. Maybe because of the man it was attached to. I was suddenly seeing my buddy in a whole new light. He was big in ways that I wasn't. Not just his cock but his chest, his arms, his quads. I'd always thought of Neil as a solidly built guy, but that had never seemed sexy to me before today. Now, it was almost all I could think about. How strong he was, how manly. His bushy pubes and heavy balls just added to the feeling. It made me wonder what else I'd be willing to do for my friend.  Sucking his dick... it was really getting me going, but I felt driven to be of service to him however he might want.

    "Yeah that's right, you fuckin' cocksucker," Neil said, and I felt his hand on the back of my head. That got me even more worked up, and I let him push my head down further onto his cock. I gagged, which made me self-conscious, though I wasn't sure why. Maybe I'd seen Taylor deep-throat a cock so many times at this point, it seemed like it should come easily. And while it was alarming at first when I felt Neil's cock start to slide down into my throat, I also felt a sense of pride that I'd been able to get past the reflex after all.

    "Oh yeah! Fuck, Stephen!" my friend cried out. "That feels fucking amazing!" He started shoving his dick down my throat even faster, and I felt his other hand move down to my neck, so that he was keeping my head in just the right position for what he wanted to do, which clearly was to fuck a load down my gullet. We shifted position a little, though he never let go of my head, and when Neil moved his leg he ended up slamming his shin into my nuts. Even through my shorts, the shock and pain was brief but intense, and it oddly sent a chill up my spine. I made some noice between a grunt and a moan, though it was muffled by the cock filling my mouth and throat.

    "Heh," Neil chortled as he heard and felt my reaction. "Yeah, bud... You like that?" he asked, pushing firmly into my crotch again with his leg so there was no question about what he meant.

    "Mhm," I heard myself reply, unsure why I was affirming to him that I'd liked his leg slamming into my balls. Had I liked it? My cock was still hard, and as Neil pressed his shin against it I knew he felt it. He pulled his leg back and then slammed it forward again, and I could tell he was angling it to hit my nuts specifically. I moaned, and he let me grind on his leg for a second before pulling back again.

    We repeated that three more times as I continued to let him fuck my throat. Each time my balls got more of a beating, and I kept letting Neil know I liked it by nodding and moaning some more. It seemed to make him even hornier, and knowing that made my cock even harder. What was going on in my head right now?

    The final time I felt Neil's leg punish my nuts, I'd been starting to feel something building down there. When my friend's leg made contact, it triggered something and I felt my aching balls tighten up. And then I was cumming. I began blowing a full load, right into my pants, without having touched my dick at all. The only stimulation I'd been receiving were the punishing blows from Neil and the brief moments he'd allow me to rub my hard dick up against him.

    Neil knew I was cumming and that got him even more excited. His grip on my head and neck tightened and I could tell he was working himself up to his own grand finale. It didn't take much longer, and the moment before my neighbor's cream started blasting down my throat, I knew that I was craving it. It was a wild realization, quickly overshadowed by the sensation of jizz sliding down toward my stomach. Neil was slowly pulling his cock out as he continued to ejaculate, and it was almost like he was trying to coat the entire inside of my throat, and then my mouth. Even though I was desperate for a deep breath, I kept his oozing cockhead between my lips until the last possible moment. I suddenly needed every drop.

    "Shit," Neil said, catching his breath and stepping back. "Maybe being on my own isn't going to be so bad after all. What're you doing after work tomorrow?"​​