Patrolling the Neighborhood

Men of Rugged Heights, Volume 2

Jaylen Florian

Published by Jaylen Florian, 2018.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

PATROLLING THE NEIGHBORHOOD

First edition. November 8, 2018.

Copyright © 2018 Jaylen Florian.

Written by Jaylen Florian.

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Books by Jaylen Florian

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Author's Note

Books by Jaylen Florian

Novels, novellas, short stories, and bundles by Jaylen Florian include:

Antonio's Mask

Arousing Euphoria: Rugby Team Bundle

Baseball Star's Gift

Cobra De Capello

Covet

Garage

Ghost Town

Guarding His Fortunes

Guarding His Jewels

Hollywood Tease

Lured

Macho

Rugby Test: Hypnotic Temptation

Serving the Neighborhood

Uncovering Machismo

Untame

Uplifting Sports Romance: College Gay Bundle

#

Chapter 1

This is the story of how a young cop like me, sexually inexperienced with men and trusting almost no one, ended up agreeing to being handcuffed in three way encounters with some other studs in my neighborhood.

The adventure started innocently enough on a breezy November evening, the night I met Phil at a gym within walking distance of my house. 

Before I describe that night, I should tell you more about me.  My name is Vance.  I'm a police officer, twenty-seven years of age, neither burned out nor jaded, and still confident I can make my community safer and kinder.  I don't float around with my head in the clouds, though.  I know plenty about evil and ignorance.  I am perfectly well aware that cruelty lingers out there, ready to prey on the innocent and the gullible.  But I believe an inspired and dedicated police force, like the one I serve on, can drive criminal activity away, or at least suppress it.  

My experience is that most encounters unfold spontaneously, without much planning, sometimes from the most unlikely beginnings.  This was the case that night with Phil.  The gym was near my suburban neighborhood of Rugged Heights, which mostly contained sprawling and affluent homes that surrounded a large recreational park.  I rented a modest one story house there and tried to get to the gym at least a few times each week.  I was lifting weights and mostly keeping to myself, as usual.  Some people found me unapproachable.  Distant.  Cold to strangers.  However, I didn't see it that way.  I liked being self reliant.  I didn't go to the gym to socialize.  I went to keep my body sharp and my strength intact.  Exercise and weightlifting were not for vanity.  My health and dexterity could mean the difference in whether I effectively did my job and thwarted danger. 

I was finishing a burning repetition of bicep curls when I noticed this slender guy struggling on the bench press.  He was reclined on the bench and trying to lift the bar back up from his chest.  But he wasn't going to make it.  One of his arms quivered at the elbow and the bar began descending, despite his panicked effort to lift it.  I dropped the dumbbell from my hand and dashed to him just in time, as one end of the bar was falling toward his neck.  I caught the bar and heaved it up into the holding wedges.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.  I was straddling his body and looking down at him.  His face was flushed red, probably as much from shame and embarrassment as strenuous exertion.

"Damn, that was close," he said.

"Always get someone to spot you when you bench press.  You know that, right?"

"I usually handle this much weight without any problem.  I don't know what happened."

His cheeks were now crimson with humiliation.  I stepped to his side and patted him twice on the shoulder.  "Let it go," I said.  He began profusely thanking me for helping him.  I shook my head, indicating his gratitude was unnecessary.  I offered him my hand and he shook it.

"I'm Phil."

"Vance."

"You're the cop, aren't you?"

"Yep.  Is it that obvious, even when I'm not in uniform?"

"It is," Phil answered.  "Plus, I've seen you in the neighborhood."

We traded some small talk.  I learned that Phil lived on the west side of the park, about a quarter mile away from my rented place.  He told me he was studying for his graduate degree at the university.  

"Would you mind spotting me on this?" Phil asked, turning his attention back to the weights on the bench press bar.  "I need to see if I had a one-time lapse or if my arms are getting weaker."

"Sure."

Phil laid on the bench and took a deep breath.  He had on black polyester gym shorts, black sneakers over white socks, and a worn black t-shirt with a rock band emblem on the front.  Phil pushed his thick bangs away from his eyes, back over his forehead, and clutched the bar.  I moved behind him, directly aside the bar, and helped him lift it out of the holding wedges.  He grunted and began a set of ten lifts.  I watched his face for signs of distress, but he was fine.  Phil had chiseled features, warm brown eyes, a cleft chin, and clean shaven face.  I caught him glance a few times up my shorts, which were unintentionally just above his eyes, and shifted backwards a foot so that I wasn't directly hovering over him.  Phil was doing okay on his repetitions, then lost power again and his arms began shaking.  He grunted as I hoisted the bar and lifted it up for his safety.

"Tonight's not my night," he said, sitting upright and wiping the sweat off his forehead.  

"Give yourself a break," I replied.  "Everybody struggles from time to time."

"I doubt you ever do."

I shrugged.  I left Phil there, went to the water fountain to slurp up some refreshment, then tackled an exercise bike that mimicked uphill and downhill travel.  I pedaled my heart out, letting my mind drift through some difficult territory, namely my failed recent relationships with three different women in two years.  I didn't harbor anger.  Just confusion.  Those relationships had unraveled despite my genuine efforts to keep them on track.  Humbling experiences, to be sure.  Humbling and perplexing.  I finished a thirty minute round and treaded to the locker room.

I fully undressed, replaced my sports shoes with waterproof sandals so my feet wouldn't touch the slippery and damp floors, hung a towel around my neck, put my sweatshirt and jockstrap and sweatpants in a locker, and headed to the showers.  The vast space, covered in ceramic silver tiles that extended from the floor to the ceiling, held eight shower heads on the rectangular walls.  But I had all of the showers to myself.  No one else was there.  I cranked up the heat so that steam emanated from the jets, closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and let the pulsing water spray directly onto my face.

My thoughts floated around again.  I thought about work, favorite shows, recent camping and hiking trips I'd taken, and about whether I was ready to finally adopt a rescued dog.  The water felt amazing.  The steam cleared my lungs.  My spirits were up.  

I heard another shower come on, somewhere to my left.  I turned and opened my eyes.  Phil, on the opposite side of the room, stood facing me, nude, with his hand testing the temperature of the water.

#

Chapter 2

Phil, moderately hairy, with a more muscular body than it appeared to be when he was clothed, stood under the shower head so that the water pelted his back and shoulders.  He faced my direction and appeared to be squinting at me.  Phil looked tall, about six feet, just a few inches shorter than me, and no other men were in the showering area with us.

I resumed soaping up my body, lathering up suds from my underarms to my feet.  I had my backside to Phil as I bent over to reach my calves and ankles.  When I stood back upright and glanced in his direction, Phil was fully erect and his eyes were completely open.  Something about that also made my dick grow, but not to full mast.  I kept my back to Phil, hiding my partial engorgement, as I rinsed the suds away.  Expecting other men to arrive at any moment, I quickly finished my shower, snatched my towel, and retreated to the locker room.  

I had changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater by the time Phil came dripping out of the shower with his towel around his waist.  He was just feet away from me as he unlocked his locker and set his dry clothes on the long bench I was sitting on.  I tipped my head and Phil smiled.  He pulled his towel away and his erection swung outwards, then stiffened in a sharp curve, aimed right at my mouth.  

"Whoa there, cowboy," I said, backing up a few inches.  I glimpsed behind me.  Anyone could walk in at any time, but at that moment we were alone.  Phil's smile widened as he watched me take a closer look.  He was impressively rock hard.  His crown was bulbous, straining, lighter than his shaft.  His testicles appeared to be even darker, nearly the color of his curly public hair.  

Phil put his hands on his hips and said, "You like it."

"Don't you think it's a bit presumptuous to stroll out here all boned up in front of me?"

His smile shrunk.  "I read your signals."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes.  You bent over for me."

I lifted my eyebrows with a noncommittal gesture and looked away, returning my attention to my locker.  I pulled out my shoes and stuffed my wet towel in my gym bag.  I ignored Phil and he slipped his underwear on just seconds before two guys traipsed into the locker room near us.  I tied my shoes, zipped up my bag, and left the locker room.  I stopped to buy a sugar-free energy drink at the gym's cafe and then began walking home.

I did a quick check of my phone for any missed calls or text messages.  Nothing.  A blank screen.  I was putting my phone back in my pocket when I heard my name called out.  I turned around and Phil was hustling toward me.  I stopped until he caught up with me, then continued my trek toward home.

"Vance, please accept my apologies."

For the second time that evening Phil wore a humiliated expression.  I waved it off.  "It's nothing," I said.

"I'm never this brazen.  I'm really not."

I chuckled and shot him a quizzical glance.  I didn't believe him.

"I thought you were into me," he explained.  "I misread everything and I'm sorry.  If I had thought you were repulsed or uninterested, I would have never exposed myself to you like that."

"Just be more careful, Phil.  Don't jump to conclusions."

Phil studied my face.  "It was all my imagination?"

"Basically."

"Hmm.  I don't understand your answer."

I gave him a crooked grin.  "I never said you repulsed me or that I didn't mind seeing you showing off your assets.  I just wasn't teasing you or trying to lead you on."

"Okay, so there's a shred of hope."

"For what?" I asked.

"My house is right up there," Phil answered, pointing ahead down the street toward the park.  "The one with the old Thunderbird in the driveway."

"So?"

"Give me a chance.  Come in and I'll make it worth your while."

For somebody claiming not to be brazen or presumptuous, Phil was being mighty assertive.  That didn't necessarily piss me off.  I tend to not like games, such as stupid flirting leading to nothing.  So I stopped on the sidewalk and turned toward Phil.  "Exactly what are you offering me?"

Phil put his hands in his pant pockets, but held my gaze.  "I'll get you off."

"How?"

"However you want."

"And what do I have to do?" I asked.

"Not a damn thing."

I raised one eyebrow and he smiled.  I nodded my head and followed him to his house.

#

Chapter 3

Phil's house was clean and surprisingly well furnished for a graduate student's pad.  Framed black and white photographs of world monuments adorned most walls, but the dominant art work in his living room was a colorful oil painting of a mountain forest.  If there was a television in the room, it was hidden.  Four motorcycle helmets lined the mantel above his fireplace.  One was completely metallic, army green, like something you'd see in a science fiction movie.  The other three were hand painted with gothic designs.

"You ride?" I ask.

"Not anymore," Phil answered, as he fetched us bottled waters from his refrigerator.  "I loved biking when I was a teenager and found myself collecting helmets in recent years."

Phil tossed a bottle to me.  I caught it and sat down on the mid-century couch that had an extended reclining area.  I set my phone on airplane mode, put it away in the pocket, and started untying my shoes.  Phil rapidly undressed, staring at my body the whole time, and chugged half his water in successive gulps.  

"Do we stay out here or go into my bedroom?" he asked.

I partially shrugged.  "What do you usually do?"

"I usually only mess around with guys in my backyard.  My ex slept in here with me, but she's been out of the picture for many months now."

"It's too cold to be outside."

"Agreed.  I'm good with you being inside my house.  But do we stay in here or move to my room?"

"Here's fine."

Phil helped me take my jeans off.  Just like in the locker room, his erection arched upward with a sharp bend.  But I noticed one of his hands shaking.  "You're nervous," I said.  

"I am."  Phil laughed as he folded my jeans and set them on the floor beside the couch.

"Why?"

"You intimidate me."

"I scare you?"

"I can't believe you're in my house and this is going to happen.  You're the first guy I've invited inside."

There was a story there.  But I didn't ask Phil to elaborate.  Right now, I thought, what does it matter?  We're all battling with ourselves, to some degree, with sex and longing and personal boundaries.  We were just going to get off, not engage in a therapy session.  I put my hand on his arm and the gesture seemed to calm him.

I leaned back on the couch, put my hands behind my head, and spread my legs apart.

Phil got on his knees.  "You're fucking amazing, Vance."

"You don't have to butter me up," I said.  "It's just a blowjob."

"No, I'm being serious.  I'm in total awe."

"Why?" I asked.

Phil gently stroked me, just below my foreskin, as he answered.  "You're this big, strong guy, like a handsome brute.  Your eyes are warm, though, almost soft, with gold flakes inside the deep blue.  The shaved head thing works on you.  You have the perfect round dome.  The trimmed beard is hot, slightly protruding ears, the assured manner, broad shoulders, thick eyebrows.  And you have the hottest ass I have ever seen on a guy.  The whole package is of a complete stud, pure and simple."

He was being sincere, but it was too much praise.  I didn't thank him or react.  I closed my eyes.  Phil played with my balls and stroked me to full size.

"I haven't been with an uncut guy before," he said.  "Your dick is amazing, too."

I arched my back upward.  I wanted inside his mouth.  Phil flicked his tongue on my crown and licked up and down my shaft.  I realized he really may have not ever done this before.  Not oral sex with a dude, at least.  But I was in no hurry.  I knew he would remember some of the best head he had gotten in his life and he would figure it out.  

About ten minutes later, I was proved right.  Phil was bobbing up and down on me, trying to get as much down his throat as he could, and still caressing my nuts with one hand while beating himself with his other hand.  He was really getting into it, murmuring and groaning louder than I was.  I could have blasted out several times, but I held back, interested in what he would do next and enjoying myself.  After at least half an hour of sucking, Phil moved down to my balls and softly mashed his cheeks against them while he licked.  I lifted my legs so he could really get in there and noticed he was jerking himself with greater zeal.  

When Phil descended lower, he caught me by surprise.  But I didn't stop him.  His tongue danced around my hole and he squeezed my leg with his free hand.  Phil rotated his head, reaching me at different angles, moaning ever louder.  I flipped over, laid on my stomach, and spread my knees.  Phil crouched down, parted my cheeks, and resumed tonguing me with more determination.

Suddenly, he bolted out of the room, to his bedroom, and returned seconds later with a condom and lube.  

"Huh-uh," I said, shaking my head and rolling onto my back again.

Phil's shoulders drooped.  "I really want to get in there.  I'll be super tender."

"Not happening."

Phil set the items down and began touching me again.  "No chance at all?  Even if I beg?"

"Save your breath.  You were doing great, but what we've been doing is as far as it goes, Phil.  Nobody is ever going to mount me."

When Phil got me hard again, he stood over me and rubbed our erections together.  It was unexpectedly erotic, watching our dicks and balls slide and smash together, and it took me to the edge.  I put my hand on his Phil's shoulder, pushing him down so he would let me finish off on his lips.  He understood and returned to the kneeling position.  But that's when I spotted the familiar blue and red lights ricocheting through the gap in his front window curtains.  

I leapt upright and apologized to him as I threw my clothes on.  

"I gotta go," I added.  "Something's happening."

"I understand," Phil replied.  

I grabbed my gym bag and dashed out of his house, heading toward the flashing lights.  I crossed the park and approached my own street.  Sure enough, the patrol car was pulled up at the curb right in front of my house.

#

Chapter 4

Burt, a fellow cop and friend, shined his flashlight at me as I walked up my driveway.  

"Don't you answer your phone, Vance?" he asked.  "Sheesh, I left you two messages."

"I was at the gym," I answered.  "What's going on here?"

"We got a report that you had an intruder."

"Son of a bitch!"

"I jumped your wall and searched your backyard and the rest of the perimeter.  No sign of a break in."

Burt and I went inside my house and then inspected the yard again.  We found no broken windows, torn screens, damaged knobs, or anything else out of the ordinary.  At my request, Burt helped me thoroughly search indoors in any space large enough for a person to be hiding.  He didn't have much to tell me, except that one of my neighbors had spotted a man climbing over my gate.  Burt gave me the neighbor's name and phone number.

"Colton," I said, reading the note.

"You know him?" Burt asked.

"Nah, I don't think so.  Did he see this from a window somewhere?"

"This guy, Colton, was jogging along your street and noticed a man hiding and making furtive movements by your house."

"Jogging in the dark?"

"That's what he said.  Seemed genuine enough.  He had on running shoes and what not.  I already interviewed him and sent him home, but give him a buzz if you want to hear his account for yourself."

"I'll do that, Burt."

"Any idea who might be trying to hang around?  Anything going on in this neighborhood lately?"

"No clue."

"All right.  I'll check in with you tomorrow."

"Thanks, buddy," I said.  "I appreciate your help."

When Burt left I retrieved the strongest flashlight I owned from the garage and surveyed my entire yard again.  Just to be completely certain, I also studied my interior rooms again and then phoned Colton.  He confirmed that he was the witness.  When I asked him for every detail he could remember, he offered to come to my house right away to help and I accepted.

I was on my driveway with my flashlight five minutes later when Colton arrived.  Still in running gear, including a tight black compression shirt and expensive sneakers, I could tell he was in exceptionally good physical condition with virtually no body fat.  He had spiked brown hair, a mustache, stubble outlining his strong jaw, and intense dark eyes.  Colton shook my hand with a firm grip as we introduced ourselves.

"Did he break in before the police arrived?" Colton asked.

"Not that I can tell."

"Good."

"Are you sure it was a man you saw?"

"Yes, a muscular guy.  Tall, like you and me, but more detail than that was nearly impossible to make out in the dark."

"He wore a mask?" 

"No, but a black or dark grey hood covered most of his head and glasses blocked part of his face."

"Estimate of his age?  Skin color?  Facial hair?"

"Sorry, I can't help you with any of that.  I never got a solid and clear look at him."

Colton took me to the exact spot where he saw the trespasser hiding by the side gate to my backyard.  He crouched down, mimicking the man's position before he propelled himself over.  Colton also pointed out where he had been jogging, which was on the sidewalk nearest to the park.

"Did he see you?" I asked.

"No, I was attired just like I am now.  No reflective strips or gear of any kind.  I am confident he didn't spot me or hear me."

"Isn't it kind of dangerous to be out running at night without any florescent clothing on to prevent cars from striking you?"

"I'm careful.  I run every night, so I know all of the trails and crosswalks well.  I also stick close to the park so I'm not dodging much traffic."

"How long before the squad car arrived after you called nine-one-one?"

"Three minutes.  Maybe even sooner.  It was like that," he said, snapping his fingers.

"And you never saw him again?"

"I guarantee you he didn't leave your property the same way he broke in.  I stopped right on the street, in front of your house, waiting to catch another glimpse of him.  Should I have chased him into your backyard?"

"No, definitely not," I answered.  "You handled this the right way."

We discussed Colton's eyewitness account for a few more minutes, then the conversation turned to us being neighbors.  I told him I was a police officer and I learned that he had modeled extensively on the West Coast before moving here.  

"I thought your face was familiar, Colton.  I just couldn't put my finger on where I had seen you before.  What kind of modeling?"

"Clothes and fashion mostly, but a few nationally-aired commercials, too."

"Tell me more.  Want to come in for a beer?  It's too cold to be stuck out here."

#

Chapter 5

Colton accepted my invitation and we sat across from each other in the two chairs closest to my fireplace. 

I kept my house cool, around sixty-five degrees, which was ideal for my sleeping.  But I made a roaring fire with logs and kindling so that Colton wouldn't shiver.  He shared some of his funnier modeling adventures and bloopers with me, delivering punch lines with ease and natural timing.  He was fun to listen to and quite a good storyteller—so good, in fact, that I began wondering how much was true and how much was embellishment.  After downing a can of beer each, I suggested we switch to hot chocolates, which were easy for me to instantly make with my single serving coffee and beverage machine.  Colton held his mug with both hands, probably to get his hands warmer, and I noticed him inching closer to the fire to stay comfortable.  

Colton wanted me to share cop stories with him.  I hesitated and decided that wouldn't work.  With other officers, my job tales were easy to tell and understand.  But it wasn't the same with civilians, and frankly, there was often little humor in what we had to do and what we had to get involved with to restore peace and order.  So I changed the subject back to Colton.

"You mentioned being here just a couple of months," I said.  "What brought you to Rugged Heights?"

"I could give you a canned answer," he replied, "but I'd rather tell you the truth."

"So do it."

"Sanctuary."  Colton looked down into his mug, took another sip, scooted his chair even closer to the flames, and briefly frowned.  "This is my retreat.  I came here to put my broken heart back together and take some time for myself and my emotional healing."

"A divorce?"

"No, but a monogamous partnership.  It was just as devastating as any divorce, no doubt about that."

"You'll be here awhile and then return to the West Coast?" I asked.

"I don't know yet.  My lease is for one year.  I'm trying to keep an open mind and entertain every possibility."

"No chance your partnership can get another try?"

Vigorously shaking his head, Colton said, "No.  He's out of my life.  That's done.  And I won't even consider another relationship for a long time, until I know my soul is healthy and recovered."

"It sounds like you might be punishing yourself with loneliness."

"No way.  I didn't say I was lonely.  I'm playing the field and meeting guys, but just keeping it casual."

"Understood."

"Nothing wrong with adults getting together and doing what they want as long as they are kind to each other.  Do you agree?"

"I do."  That made sense to me.  I admired his straightforward sensibility.  Of course, I already knew he was gay before he told me.  I knew it from the moment he walked up my driveway, though I couldn't tell you why, and I didn't consider that good nor bad.  As a cop, I read people.  That's what I do—all day long, every day, every week, every month, every year.  I couldn't turn that part of my nature off even if I wanted to, and I prefer staying a step ahead, anyway.

"Is there a special woman, or man, in your life?" Colton asked.

"No."

"Come on.  I just told you all that about myself and you only respond to my question with a one word answer?"

"I don't have much to say on that front, Colton.  My relationships have, for the most part, ended miserably.  I'm not proud of that.  I guess you could say I am taking it a day at time, like you, and working on myself before launching into anything serious again."

"What's an example of a miserable end?"

"My last girlfriend—let's call her Sarah—pouted and punished me with the silent treatment anytime I agitated her.  It always backfired.  She just ended up pushing me farther away.  I don't like playing punishment games.  And then Sarah accused me of being cold and distant and heartless.  All that junk.  But I didn't walk away as soon as I should have.  I kept thinking I could help her overcome her problems and change.  In a nutshell, I was a fool."

"You're attracted to the damsels in distress?" Colton asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, the ones who seem to need heroes, or so their partners think.  I chased my fair share of those, too.  But the sad truth is, Vance, I don't think we can rescue other people."

"We should try."

"If they really want to be saved, I agree.  But is that so easy to determine?"

The conversation went on like this for awhile.  Colton gave me some things to think about.  He was obviously intelligent and empathetic.  I found myself admiring him.  He was a great listener and we had an easy and natural rapport.  It was so relaxed between us that I felt free to good-naturedly comment when I caught him gawking at me while I bent over to poke the fire and add kindling.

"Sorry if I'm sticking my ass in your face, buddy.  It's unintentional."

Colton grinned.  "Did you hear me complain?"

I chuckled.  I had no answer for that.  Generally, I'm not clever with witty remarks.  

"What does it feel like to have people savoring and lusting for your ass every freaking day?"

"No idea," I answered.

"Oh, please.  I thought we were speaking candidly," Colton said, almost sneering. 

"People look.  We all peek at each other from time to time.  I don't think about my rump that much."

"Rump!"  Colton laughed again.  "That word doesn't do your masterpiece much justice.  Rump!  Maybe you really do have your eyes closed."

"Careful, now.  That sounded like an insult."

"Vance, your butt's a frigging masterpiece.  I'm serious."

"Well, I'm not sure what good that does me."  I smiled and couldn't help but shrug.

Colton locked eyes with me.  "Of course, that is entirely up to you."

I held his stare until his eyes finally broke away.  He made his point.  I was flattered, but something still made no sense.  "You're the model," I said.  "Why are you asking me about being objectified and craved for?  If anything, I should be the one inquiring about this with you."

"I have only one more thing to say.  There's nothing as smoking hot as a stud who has no idea how magnificent he is.  Nothing."

We finished our hot chocolates shortly after that.  We exchanged phone numbers and I walked Colton to the door.

"Thank you for having an eagle eye tonight and for calling nine-one-one to help me," I said.

"You're welcome."

A thought zipped into my head.  "And you're sure you really saw a guy trying to break into my house?"

Colton dropped his chin and looked at me with disappointment.  "Don't get cute.  I didn't make this whole thing up to meet you.  Like it or not, you had an intruder tonight."

#

Chapter 6

After Colton left, I stoked the fire some more, checked the time, and realized it might be too late to call Roger. 

Roger was the head of our neighborhood watch program.  I had always found him a bit too vigilante-like, too severe in manner, which was not uncommon among people who wanted to pretend they were cops.  He was a large, middle-aged man who occasionally roamed the surrounding streets in t-shirts with the sleeves cut off to expose his inflated biceps.  He was a pale man with reddish-blond hair and a loud voice.  Last I knew he sold electronics and computers at a department store, but I hadn't stayed in contact with him outside of occasional neighborhood activities. 

I sent Roger a text message asking if it was too late for a brief chat and he called me several moments later.

"What happened at your place, Vance?  I heard you had a patrol car there earlier tonight."

"Not sure.  I may have had a trespasser.  Maybe something more.  Did anyone on the neighborhood watch team report anything suspicious tonight?  Or in recent days?"

"No, not that I've heard yet.  What triggered the squad car showing up?"

"A witness who called emergency services."

"Who?"

I decided not to answer that.  "One of our neighbors."  That's all Roger needed to know.  What did it matter if it was Colton or someone else?  Plus, I didn't want Roger hounding Colton with follow-up questions, as well a likely recruitment attempt to get him to join the neighborhood watch program.  

"New enemies, Vance?  Been bragging to fellow officers about a coin collection or inheritance or anything like that?" Roger asked.

"Nope."  I despise when civilians try acting like inquisitors.  I realized I just wanted to get off the phone.  "Please let me know if anything comes up," I said, hurriedly, my voice trailing off.

"Will do."

I didn't feel like sleeping.  I stretched out by the fireplace to think the evening's events through better.  Why would I be targeted?  Most of the area houses were nicer than mine.  It's not like I kept a gun collection or gold bars or a mattress full of cash in my home.  What would someone expect here?  And did the trespasser really try to break in?  Or did he just leap the fence, cross my yard, and jump over the back wall on his way to somewhere else? 

Also, I had to wonder once again if Colton really ever saw anyone on my property at all.

#

Chapter 7

The next time I ran into Phil it was not at the gym or in the locker room.  It was a few days after our encounter and I was coming out of the dry cleaning store with arms full of uniforms and dress shirts wrapped in plastic.  Zooming by on a road bike, Phil saw me attempt a wave and then slammed on his brakes and rolled into the parking lot.  I stopped and waited for him instead of continuing on toward my car.

"Hey, Vance.  How've you been?"

"Just fine.  You?"

"We didn't give each other our phone numbers," Phil said, pulling off the orange florescent helmet that matched his athletic shirt and skin-tight bicycle shorts.

I told him about what had happened that night on my property and apologized again for dashing out on him.  

"So, that means we might be able to finish what we started?" Phil asked.

"Yeah."

We went to my car so I could put my dry cleaning in the trunk, get a pen and scratch of paper from the glove compartment, and write his number down.  I told him he'd hear from me.  

Phil refastened his helmet.  "When?"

"Soon."

"I shouldn't say this, but call me anytime and I'll drop what I'm doing.  That's how interested I am."

"Loud and clear," I said.  "Message received."

#

Chapter 8

The following morning I was in my backyard with buckets and gloves.  My thoughts were about making the area safe for a dog, who could go in and out of my house as he or she pleased.  I had been particularly inspired by a weekend morning show that featured some of the rescued dogs awaiting adoption at the local no-kill shelter.  I realized I was ready to pull the trigger and offer a lifetime commitment—a forever home—to a dog who needed someone's love.  

Two large eucalyptus trees in my backyard routinely dropped branches of various sizes onto the ground, though most where slender enough for me to snap apart in my gloved hands.  I began filling the buckets with twigs and dried pieces of wood I could use in the fireplace.  Once two buckets were stuffed full, I retrieved two more from the garage and worked up quite a sweat despite the windy and overcast day.  I needed to get every single piece picked up so that the dog, who I would adopt later that same week, would not get injured with splinters or cut by sharp edges.  

Once all four buckets could hold nothing more, I searched my garage for one more.  There were still enough twigs and branches on the grass to fill half a bucket more.  The moment it occurred to me that the house's owner may have stored a spare bucket in the small backyard shed, I instantly knew I had missed the obvious.  Because I personally stored nothing of value out there, it had not crossed my mind to inspect it thoroughly after the intruder had been spotted.  But it should have been in the forefront of my suspicions.  The owner of the house had kept the shed mostly bare, yet stored some odds and ends for gardening there, including a case of tools.  

Cursing my stupidity, I dashed back to the yard and slid open the squeaky shed doors.  The tools were gone.

My doorbell chimed.  Rather than traipse dirt and traces of bark through the house, I walked around the side of the house, opened the gate, and saw Colton standing on my front porch.  He had on running shoes, compression athletic clothes, and a burgundy ball cap pulled down low on his brow.  I called his name and Colton rapidly approached me.

"Solved," he said.  

"Explain yourself."

"Come with me right now and I'll show you the guy who tried to break into your house."

I didn't mention anything about the shed to Colton.  In fact, I didn't say a word at all.  I took off my gloves, set them on the porch, closed the side yard gate, and followed Colton into the neighborhood park.  We took the path that bends beside and around the basketball courts, tennis courts, and picnic pavilions.  Colton stopped behind a large oak tree and tipped his head toward the house directly across the street from the park.  Roger, the head of our neighborhood watch program, was helping his wife in their front yard.  They were planting a row of saplings on the dividing line of their property.  They had already filled about half of the holes with baby trees and surrounded them with mulch.  A half dozen more saplings awaited planting, positioned in boxes across their front yard.

Colton's accusation rang true.  I didn't really need any further information, but I asked for it anyway.  "You recognized his clothes or glasses?"

"It's his overall build.  I just know it's him."

"You figured it out just a while ago?"

"I was running through the park and spotted him crouched in his yard.  I knew immediately that was the same guy."

"I believe you," I said.

"Let's go confront him," Colton said, stepping away from the tree.

I pulled him by his arm, back out of view.  "Slow down.  I'll handle this myself.  I don't want him, nor anyone else, knowing you identified him.  Understand?"

"Yes."

"Let's get out of here."

"You're letting him get away with it?"

"Oh, no, don't assume that.  I promise you this, anything taken will be returned and he won't be the head of the neighborhood watch program much longer."

––––––––

NEITHER OF US HAD EATEN lunch yet.  I told Colton I would treat him to lunch after he had finished his jog.  We met about forty-five minutes later at a diner with spacious, high-backed booths, known for the best pancakes and waffles in town.  I was still in my ruddy clothes, but Colton had changed into black denim pants and a white linen shirt.

After we put in our orders, Colton leaned forward and smirked.  "Is this a thank you lunch or an apology lunch?"

I folded my arms across my chest.  "The former.  I appreciate you identifying the culprit.  Why would I being feeling guilty or making this an apology?"

"Because you had doubts.  You weren't sure you believed me."

"I could have doubts and still, generally speaking, believe you.  There's no need to parse words."

Colton nodded.  "I agree.  How about this?  We'll split the bill.  If you are inclined to thank me, then let it be something of my choosing.  Are you a good sport?"

"Maybe," I answered.  "Give me my options."

Colton didn't tell me anything right away.  He changed the subject while we ate and asked me about other people in the neighborhood and my impressions of them.  I answered him cautiously, but honestly.  Not being into gossip, I had nothing salacious to tell him, but I shared opinions and observations.  It was clear he had met some of our neighbors and was trying to decide if he wanted to get to know them better.  I reminded him he'd be better off making his own determinations rather than relying on my ideas, much less anyone else's.  When the bill came, we split it, including the tip, and exited the restaurant together.  

"I know what I want, by the way," Colton said.  "It's something that doesn't ask too much of you, Vance."

"Shoot."

"Run with me tonight.  A half hour jog, just after sundown.  That's all you have to do."

"I haven't jogged in at least a year."

"Is that a no?"

I shook my head.  "I'm grateful to you.  I'll give it a go."

#

Chapter 9

I had a light dinner at home alone, sufficiently early so that my stomach wouldn't feel heavy during the run.  I rummaged through my closet for some warmer workout clothes and selected a pair of grey sweatpants, a white sweatshirt, and comfortable old sneakers that fit my feet perfectly.  For a bit more warmth, I also grabbed one of my ball caps, choosing the lightest one I could find so that it might reflect car lights and make me a tad bit safer from vehicles winding around the park.

As planned, Colton and I met up again near the tennis courts inside the park.  I think he had on the same running clothes he had worn earlier in the day.  Colton let me set the pace and then fell into line at my side.  The night air felt good.  My lungs were clear within minutes and my legs and arms surged with energy.  I had forgotten how therapeutic running could be, especially when you wanted to calm the mind.  We looped around the park, taking the widest paths on the perimeters of the park zones, and mostly had the trails to ourselves.  I pulled my cap off to let my skull breath and picked up the pace.  

Half an hour later, we finished on the side of the park furthest away from my house, near a volleyball court full of thick sand.     

"Great run," I said, slowing to a walk to cool down.

"How do you feel?" Colton asked.

"Invigorated."

"I live half a block away from here.  I make the best fruit and energy shakes."

"Lead the way."

Colton was renting a contemporary two story home, too large for one person.  The interior had an industrial feel, with an abundance of metal and concrete in the various tables.  The remaining furniture was spartan and minimalist, except for one large and plush couch near the wall-mounted television monitor.  Colton turned on the set and flipped to a cable channel playing modern jazz songs, then began concocting our drinks in his kitchen.  

"Is my place too barren?" he asked, while pouring a carton of blueberries into the blender, on top of fresh strawberries, a banana, and chunks of pineapple and papaya.  

"To each their own," I answered.

"I don't entertain much, so I keep it simple."

"I don't host parties, either.  Too much hassle.  I can't be bothered with attending to all of the details.  Work is hard enough.  Home needs to be tranquil."

Colton finished blending our smoothies, poured them into frosted tower-shaped glasses, and set them on a tray.  He carried them toward a hallway, looked back over his shoulder and said, "The sauna is this way."

"Sauna?"

"The owner of the house put one in.  It's modestly sized, but state of the art with the wooden planks, the rocks, the whole bit."

I followed Colton down the hall and into the master suite.  His bedroom had a vaulted ceiling, a swirling fan over the bed, and a king size bed in a frame with ornate ironwork.  The sauna was in the attached master bathroom, set between the double vanity and the walk-in shower.  

"I don't remember the sauna as part of our agreement in taking a jog together tonight," I said, chuckling.  My tone was lighthearted, not accusatory.  

"You're under no obligation, of course," Colton said, grinning and handing me a cold drink.  "But who doesn't want to experience an authentic sauna after a late run?"

I sipped the smoothie.  It hit the spot.  "I take it this is some sort of seduction."

Colton threw me a towel.  "I already know you're probably off limits," he said.  "But that doesn't mean we can't hang out and be friends.  That's how I see it."

––––––––

NOTHING HAPPENED BETWEEN Colton and me that first night.  We stayed wrapped in our towels, caught some glimpses of each other, and mostly kept to ourselves while breathing the steam from the water poured over the rocks.

But that's how a routine with us started.  I'd join Colton for an evening run on the nights when I didn't have to patrol, then we'd retreat to his sauna with the frosted drinks.  

The second time we were in the sauna together I felt completely at ease.  After about ten minutes of resting, I stepped out, turned the light off, went back inside, and ditched my towel.  Colton was across from me.  There was enough light from his bathroom through the small sauna window that he could see most of my body.  Gradually, he inched his foot closer to mine.  Our toes touched.  I held still.  Colton peeled away his towel, too, and he was fully raging.  My dick started growing and he came nearer.  

"Wanna give me a hand?" I asked him, in a quiet tone, just louder than a whisper.

With expert fingers, he had me edging in mere minutes.  Silently, I urged him to slow down by putting my hand over his, but that made him stroke me even harder.  I rocketed out a load and watched him lick his fingers clean, then bend his face over my stomach and suck up the rest of my seed.

#

Chapter 10

Besides Colton, Phil was on my mind a lot of late.  The following day I called Phil and we made plans to get together at his place.  It would be late, after he finished a university social event required of graduate students.  But an hour before we were going to hook up and finally finish the encounter that had started after the gym, I got called in for an emergency shift and had to give Phil another round of regrets.

Colton and I were together again the next night for a jog and a sauna.  Our time together advanced further.  He never turned on the sauna light, we dispensed with towels altogether, and I played with his enormous balls while he sucked me off.  His nuts dangled down so far they were like swinging pendulums to the touch.  Colton stroked himself and timed his climax with mine.  Again, he completely cleaned me up with his tongue, and ate his own seed, too.  

While we were getting dressed, I said to him, "You're doing all of the work."

"Most of it," Colton replied.  

"Is that good enough?"

"Yeah, I like being in control."

That stunned me for a moment.  "Pardon me?"

"I love serving.  I prefer having the power."

"The power over my pleasure?"

Colton, seeing that I was realizing we had very different approaches to these encounters, nodded and smiled.  "That threatens you, Vance?  Not being dominant?"

"It never occurred to me."

Colton stepped closer to me.  "I hope you and I can keep this going.  I'm absolutely into getting you off and becoming good friends."

"And you want nothing else from me?  Sexually, I mean?"

"If you come to trust me, I'd like you to consider giving up even more control."

"Explain," I said.

Colton strolled into his bedroom and I tailed him.  He pulled a pair of handcuffs from a nightstand drawer and locked one end around the iron frame of his bed post.  

"Colton, why would I do that?"

"Because I can blow your mind, if you let me.  Maybe you can't imagine submitting, but if you decide you can trust me, I can open up a whole new world of pleasure for you."

"I'm speechless."

"No rush.  I won't prod you.  If you ever feel you're ready, I'll be ready."

#

Chapter 11

The fourth night Colton and I were together we showered after our night run and skipped the sauna.  In his bedroom, he turned off all of the lights, except for a red art glass lamp on a corner table.  Comfortable being nude around each other, we left the towels in his bathroom.  

"I'm not ready for cuffs, but I'll do more with you tonight," I said.  "What do you want?"

"Let me play with your ass," Colton said.

I didn't reply.  I thought about it.  My eyes traveled around his room.  "More than licking?" 

"Sure.  You haven't done more than that before?" he asked.

"Not really."

"Not even a finger?"

"It just hasn't happened.  I've been curious, though.  I've put toys inside."

"How'd that feel to you?"

"Not that special."

Colton retrieved a realistically-shaped dildo from the bottom drawer of his nightstand.  He held it up and it glowed with a wicked red tint from from the art glass lamp.  "Any toys that are full size like this?"

I nodded.  "Yeah.  I kept at it, thinking I would eventually figure out what all the fuss was about."

That got a laugh from Colton.  His eyes narrowed and a mischievous look took over his face.  "If you totally relax, I bet I can show you, Vance."

"Right now?"

Colton took me by the arm and led me to his bedroom.  He fluffed a pillow for me and put it in the center of his bed.  I reclined and stared directly up at the ceiling fan whirring above me.  "Try not to think," he said.  "Let yourself go."

"You're not going to try to bang me, are you?"

"I'd only do that with your explicit permission."

"If it ever came to that, Colton, are you what they call a top?"

"Uh-huh.  Sometimes, I'm versatile.  But I consider myself a top."

I laid my arms at my sides, palms up.  Deep breaths helped me float into a trance-like state.  Colton was moving in slow motion, massaging my feet, pushing his fingers through the gaps between my toes.  My legs felt limp like jelly.  I blocked out everything and focused on the sensations of his touch.  

At some point I closed my eyes.  Colton had moved up my legs, kneaded my calves, and spread my knees farther apart.  I felt the tip of his nose and mustache brushing against my inner thighs, then his tongue, swirling ever closer.  He lifted my legs and held them upward in his hands.  His tongue journeyed below my balls and made contact, flicking my hole with butterfly-like flutters.  I jolted, probably from a combination of the heat from his mouth and the frenzy of his tongue, and the way his hands firmly held me spread open.  Colton altered his pace, occasionally slowing, then speeding up, always switching up the rhythms and keeping my body guessing.  He rolled me sideways, onto my hip, for a different vantage point and continued his licking and exploring.  

The playing seemed timeless.  An hour could have gone by, or just several minutes, I had no idea which.  I only knew I didn't want it to be over.  I was proud of myself for doing this and grateful to him for being so intent on my satisfaction.  

When his tongue stopped, I felt the tip of his finger.  From lubricating gel, it was silky wet and gently probing between the ring of muscles surrounding my hole.  Colton applied almost whimsical motions, at least at first, as my muscles continued calming and accepting the invasion.  Soon he was able to slide in much of his finger.  Involuntarily, I squeezed his finger, holding it still, then releasing it and allowing it to delve deeper.  Eventually, my body stopped halting him and gave him full freedom.  

Colton's finger pressed spots inside me and I groaned with every surprise.  He started making corkscrew motions as he pulled out, twisting and turning, then plunging in again with ever more determination.  Deep within myself, I felt something building up, like a distant rumble that could explode with volcanic force.  I put my hand on Colton's wrist to temper his movements.

"I think you're about to make me climax," I said, still staring directly up at the hypnotic spinning of the ceiling fan and speaking in a serene tone of voice.  

"Do it," Colton said.  "It's a different type of orgasm.  I want you to experience it."  He waited for my reaction, but I had nothing to say.  I kept my hand on his wrist.  "Are you afraid of it, Vance?"

"I don't know.  I'm just not ready for this to end yet."

Colton kissed my butt cheek and brushed away my hand.  He resumed the probing and my hips started rocking into him.  I craved more.  I gave into the next thought that splashed in my head.

"You have a condom?" I asked.

Colton pulled one from his nightstand's top drawer and handed it to me.  It was sealed in its original packaging.  "You're ready?"

I gave the condom back to him.  "Go ahead.  Put it on."

#

Chapter 12

Colton started in the missionary position, on top of me, and I found myself rubbing his arms, neck, and shoulders while he thrusted into me.  He concentrated on studying my face in the muted red light, watching for my reactions, which were likely animated.  I didn't hold back.  I removed whatever mask I could have worn and shared my exhilaration with him.  

The experience astonished me.  First, I had no idea it would feel so incredible or that I even had so many nerve centers that deep in my body.  Second, even though I was the one getting screwed, I didn't feel weak.  I felt very strong.  Very open and accepting.  I suddenly knew that letting myself experience the virility of another man actually made me more powerful.  I couldn't help but grin and shiver as these ideas sent chills through my body.  

We experimented with several positions on Colton's bed.  Some of them hurt or just hit me wrong, while others provided new impressions.  I found myself wanting to make sure that Colton was enjoying me to the same extent.  I glanced more into his eyes.  I kept my hands on his body, squeezing him and expressing myself.  Undeniably, we had developed a powerful sexual connection and his pleasure became very important to me, too.

"You ready to pop?" he asked me.  

"No.  I'm in no hurry for this to conclude."

"I feel the same way.  But are you getting sore?"

"I don't think so, but let's break for a moment."

Colton pulled out of me and laid at my side.  I put my arm around his waist and he rested his hand on my shoulder.  

"What if this happens all at once?" I asked.

"All of what?"

"If I give you everything you want, too."

"You trust me enough?"

"Almost.  Trust isn't easy for me.  But, almost enough trust, yes.  So, I have a wild idea."

"How wild?" Colton asked.

"I'm wondering if I could be handcuffed by you if I had a friend here, just to be sure it was safe."

"A guard?"

"Kind of.  No offense.  It's just how I feel, Colton.  Is that too crazy?"

"It's not too crazy for me.  Who would it be?"

"One of our neighbors.  A new friend of mine.  His name is Phil."

"The Phil who is studying for his master's degree at the university?"

"You know him," I said, a bit shocked.

"Yeah, he and I messed around together once."

"But you don't like him?  It didn't work out or lead to anything more?"

"Phil and I didn't have anything remotely like the connection you and I have developed," Colton said.  "But he's a good guy.  I like him.  You want me to call him right now and try to get him here?"

I nodded.  "Please.  Tell him everything so he understands what to expect when gets here."

#

Chapter 13

Less than twenty minutes later, Phil was naked in Colton's bedroom with us.  Phil joked that this was the last way he imagined for us to finally finish the encounter we had begun all those days ago.  But he said he had no hesitation in participating.  I told Colton and Phil I didn't have any hesitation, either, and said that the night had just swept me away, or something to that effect.  All three of us understood.

As predicted, Phil's presence made me surer about being restrained by Colton.  The three of us made a pact to remain in the room together, no matter what, until the end.  Colton had me lay at the opposite end of the bed, with my head on a pillow near the foot of his bed.  I extended my arms outward.  Colton handcuffed me to the iron post on the left side, then Phil cuffed me to the right post.  I chuckled at my predicament for a second, then gazed up into the center of the rotating fan again, and the mesmerizing touches of the other men had me at complete ease.  While Colton crawled back on top of me and entered me, Phil knelt behind me and nuzzled my neck and manipulated my nipples with his thumbs and forefingers.  

The ecstasy was immediate.  I gasped a few times, my emotions were tumbling, and my body yearned for more.  Their adoration of me was palpable, but I could do nothing for them in return but express my gratification.  I have no idea what I uttered to them.  I was in a primal state—receiving, full of longing, and feeling ever more powerful even though I was at their complete mercy.  

Phil stood up and offered his erection above my lips.  I parted my mouth and let him in.  The heat from his prick was almost like a burning sensation, then it was the consciousness of being stuffed, both holes at the same time, and that made me throbbing hard.  Watching Phil thrust into my mouth pushed Colton over the top.  He pulled out, ripped off the condom, knelt over my chest, and sprayed my neck and face with his semen.  

I thought Phil would lick it up, but neither man made me any move to clean me.  Instead, Colton crawled off the bed and pulled another condom from his drawer.  He handed it to Phil, along with the bottle of lube.  

"Vance, can I be inside you, too?" Phil asked, still twirling one of my nipples.

I vigorously nodded and released him from my mouth.  Phil positioned himself on the bed, between my legs, and loudly sighed as he eased into me.  Though both men were roughly the same overall size, I noticed a significant difference in their shape, and realized that every single man would probably feel unique and different from anyone else.  It was a nice and intriguing thought, and once again, I flashed into a moment of utter shock that I was flat on my back and allowing other men to penetrate me.  Colton crouched behind me, massaging my shoulders, and his penis pressed against the top of my head.  Phil sped up, robustly ramming me, and for the second time that night I felt that distant rumble, something far away, but ready to zoom forward.  

Both men were studying my face and realizing something was about to happen.  My breathing was stunted.  I felt the nearing avalanche and my emotions for both of them intensified.  Phil pushed in me harder.  Colton rubbed my arms and squeezed tight. 

"I can't hold it," I cried out.  "I can't."  The rest of what I said was probably gibberish.  I was solely in their grasp.  I clinched my eyes shut, bucked my hips, and exploded like never before, with spasms so intense I thought we'd break Colton's bed.  I believe I yelled, nearly at the top of my lungs, and when I opened my eyes I saw that my pulsations had pressured onto Phil's cock, bringing him to orgasm, too.  He remained inside me, spurting into the tip of the condom, and I felt his every pulse.  When empty, Phil collapsed on top of me and kissed my cheek.  The three of us briefly giggled, then laughed heartily.  

I visualized standing over myself, looking down at the dried seed on my neck and face, the flushed face and body, the sore nipples and ass, and the outstretched and restrained arms.  What a sight!  Still, a breakthrough, a shocking twist of fate, and I laughed at again.  

Colton put his key in the handcuffs and unlocked them.  My arms fell in place, onto the bed.  Phil nestled on one side, Colton on the other.  The three of us froze like that for a while.  I dozed into a light sleep until I heard Colton and Phil whispering together across my chest.  Here is what they said, as if I wasn't awake between them, though I have no memory of which man said what.

"We're going to get to do this again."

"No fucking doubt about it."

"We unleashed a beast."

"I don't think he ever realized he was a bottom."

"We all have to challenge our comfort zones if we want to discover our full potential."

#

Author's Note

Thank you for reading "Patrolling the Neighborhood," the second story in the Men of Rugged Heights series.  The first book in the series, which can also be read as a stand-alone story, is "Serving the Neighborhood."

Please click here for Serving the Neighborhood.

I appreciate your support very much,

Jaylen

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NOVELS, NOVELLAS, SHORT stories, and bundles by Jaylen Florian include:

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Baseball Star's Gift

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Ghost Town

Guarding His Fortunes

Guarding His Jewels

Hollywood Tease

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Macho

Rugby Test: Hypnotic Temptation

Uncovering Machismo

Untame

Uplifting Sports Romance: College Gay Bundle