Prowling the Neighborhood

Men of Rugged Heights, Volume 4

Jaylen Florian

Published by Jaylen Florian, 2018.

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

PROWLING THE NEIGHBORHOOD

First edition. December 27, 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

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

Daring the Neighborhood

Garage

Ghost Town

Guarding His Fortunes

Guarding His Jewels

Hollywood Tease

Lured

Macho

Patrolling the Neighborhood

Rugby Test: Hypnotic Temptation

Serving the Neighborhood

Uncovering Machismo

Untame

Uplifting Sports Romance: College Gay Bundle

#

Chapter 1

Even in a neighborhood full of especially handsome men, Ian stood out.

Maybe it was because, as a cop, I tend to notice everything.  A new face.  A new guy sitting alone in a stationary vehicle.  That stone-like expression from someone who, like me, is observing and analyzing surroundings with particular scrutiny.  

I learned Ian's name when I called the neighborhood homeowners association for Rugged Heights and asked if they had hired the serious-looking dude who was perched across the street from the park.  Due to storm damage to the primary park clubhouse, the one that housed the supplies and restroom facilities, the association confirmed they had hired a security guard named Ian to monitor the grounds overnight until repairs were completed.  Ian's job was to make sure none of the construction workers' equipment was stolen, as well as to ensure that nobody entered the construction zone and got injured.  

Fine.  That all made sense.  But as I saw him parked outside each night on my way home from my patrolling duties on the police force, I was a bit perplexed.  Why wasn't Ian stationed directly inside the park?  His black SUV was nestled in the same place every time—across the street, facing the park, flush against the curb on a small lane beside my friend Steven's house. 

Ian's face began to become familiar to me.  He had a heavy square brow, strong nose, and piercing eyes.  His sandy colored hair was exceptionally thick, pulled away from his face in a style more expected of a businessman than a security guard.  Ian had a short, well-trimmed beard, powerful jaw line, and broad shoulders.  

I considered walking up the street from my house and introducing myself.  However, I wasn't on duty when I returned home those nights, and by the end of a long day I was always ready to kick off my shoes, grab a beer, and chill out with a book or favorite television show.  

I should tell you more about me.  My name is Vance.  I'm twenty-seven, athletic, and clean cut with a shaved head.  Most of my friends say even when I'm out of uniform it's obvious I'm a cop because of my self assurance and formal manner.  I don't know about all that, but I've heard it enough that it is worth mentioning.  I am not one to go to bars and nightclubs.  That had never been my thing.  Nevertheless, I was exploring my sexuality, mainly my attraction to other men, and learning that I had a voracious appetite.  Most of my encounters happened to be with other studs in my neighborhood of Rugged Heights.  Many of them were like me—on personal journeys of self discovery—and I found them to be warm, fun, and good-natured.  

Steven, one of my new friends, was a financial planner.  He was a part-time artist who created fine paintings with enormous potential.  I didn't know him well, and our friendship was platonic, but I had recently posed in the buff for one of his paintings.  While I jogged around the park one morning, Steven waved to me as he was putting his briefcase in the trunk of his car.  I slowed down, crossed the street toward his driveway, and we exchanged greetings.  He was slender with large eyes, dimples, and wavy brown hair.

"Are you in a rush?" I asked.

"Yes, but I have a second," Steven answered.  "What's up?"

"That security guard they've hired to protect the park.  He's always stationed right beside your house."

"Lucky me."  There was a sparkle in Steven's eyes.  

"So you're watching him like a hawk?"

"Well, hmm.  Let's say he is good for a bit of entertainment."

"It sounds like there's a story there," I said.

"A mystery, yes."  Steven glanced at his watch.  "Are you going to try to snag him?"

"I didn't say that."

"Listen, come to my place tonight at ten o'clock.  Don't arrive a minute late or I might not answer the door."

I gave Steven a suspicious look and remained noncommittal.  

"Don't overthink this, Vance.  Just get here tonight, exactly on time, or sooner.  You won't regret it."

#

Chapter 2

Precisely one minute before ten, I was on Steven's front porch and knocking on his door.  He answered, dressed in black jeans and a plain black sweatshirt, and ushered me inside with a rapid hand motion.  

"Okay, you made it," Steven said, heading for his stairway.  "Follow me.  We have a couple of minutes to spare."

"Until what?" I asked, trailing behind him up the steps.  

Steven didn't answer me, nor did he turn around.  "Vance, to tell you the truth, I'm somewhat relieved you're here.  I'll feel a bit safer about doing this and not getting arrested."

We reached the top of the stairs and Steven plopped into one of his mid-century chairs in a seating area that resembled a small entertainment room.  

"Slow down," I said, taking a seat across from him.  "Fill me in on what's going on."

"Don't act like a cop tonight," Steven said.  "Just be a friend."

I made rolling motions with my index fingers to urge him to reveal more.  

"Instead of just watching the show tonight, I'm going to solve the riddle," Steven said.  

"Riddle?"

"The hunky security guard . . . "

"Ian," I said.

"That's his name?  Ian?  How do you know that?"

I explained my call to the homeowners association and Steven nodded.  

"Let the show be a surprise," Steven continued.  "Just stay frozen, stock still at my window, and don't make a peep.  When it's almost over, I'll race outside for awhile and then come back.  Wait for me here."

I huffed in disapproval, but decided to let him have his drama and fun.  I played along and he guided me into his guest bedroom, putting a finger over his lips as we entered the dark room.  I instinctively reached for the light switch and he knocked my arm down to keep the room pitched in darkness.  We crept to the bedroom window and peered over the bottom ledge.  Ian's SUV was below us and back a few feet, at a bird's eye angle.  Ian, in the driver's seat, had his window down.  His elbow stuck out from where his muscular, hairy forearm rested on the car door.  He appeared to be wearing a security vest.  Ian faced straight ahead, toward the park, oblivious to us watching him.  

After a few minutes, I was bored and I sighed.  However, Steven's eyes were darting around the perimeter of the SUV, searching for something.  I refocused my attention and just then became aware of a vague shape stealthily moving from the direction of the sidewalk across from the park.  Steven lightly kicked me to make sure I noticed it.  I knew it was a man, though he was slightly bent over like he was creeping, wearing a grey hoodie and dark grey slacks that effectively camouflaged him on the dimly-lit lane.  The figure went directly to the front passenger side door of Ian's SUV.  Without hesitation he opened the door and crawled inside.  There was a brief flash of interior light before he closed the door, illuminating the interior enough that I could see Ian did not look his way or change position.  In fact, Ian appeared to have no reaction at all to this intruder, or guest.  

Seconds later, there was an unmistakable bobbing motion over Ian's lap.  The man who had crawled into the SUV still wore his hoodie and I briefly thought it must have seemed to Ian like he was getting a blowjob from a ghost.

Steven put his finger over his lips again, eased away from the bedroom window, and left the room.  I continued watching.  By then I was riveted, staring hard, imagining how this was going to end.

Ten minutes or so elapsed and the bobbing escalated.  Ian put his hand on the hoodie-covered head while his body jerked a few times.  The figure's head lifted from Ian's lap, darted out through the car window, and spit out a mouthful onto the sidewalk.  A moment later the figure slinked out of the SUV and hastily dashed toward the park.  

After observing Ian alone a while longer, I returned to the seating area at the top of the stairway and waited for Steven.  I heard a door open and he trudged up the stairs.  

"Damn, he moves quick," Steven said.  "He got away." 

#

Chapter 3

Steven and I spent a few minutes discussing what had happened.  After leaving Ian's SUV, the mysterious figure may or may not have known that Steven was trying to trace him.  Steven said he had been about fifty feet behind him and then the man seemed to vanish behind a shrub at a bend in the street. 

"Back up," I said.  "Though it all may seem obvious to you, explain to me what is going on."

"What's to tell?" Steven asked.  "This prowler guy—most certainly he is one of our neighbors—sucks the security guard completely dry." 

"Every night?"

"At ten fifteen sharp."

I frowned.  "And why can't you let them be?  Why do you have to know who this man is?"

Steven tilted his head and thought for a few moments about that.  "Jealousy, maybe.  I'll admit that the guard—Ian, as it turns out—enchants me.  He reminds me of the guys it is impossible to get.  Yet here he is, lured into these nightly escapades, by somebody who must be pretty suave.  It's killing me that it's all happening right beside my house.  Why can't it be me in his SUV instead?"

I shook my head.  Something was missing.  "Why are you chasing the prowler instead of the target of your desires?"

"I wonder about many things.  This mystery man is stealthy, masked, and hiding.  Why does he think that's necessary?  How did these two men meet and get this nightly thing going?  The prowler blows and goes, without any reciprocation.  Hell, who wouldn't want to discover a fuck buddy like that?  But for Ian, I'd do the same thing!  So, Vance, don't judge me.  I just want to know the prowler's identity.  There's nothing wrong with that."

"I still think there's a fact or two you're not sharing with me," I said.

"Nope, nothing.  I've lived in this neighborhood—Rugged Heights—for many years now and I practically know everyone here.  I can't put my finger on who this guy could be.  Could you tell anything about him at all?"

"No, the hood covered his face the whole time, even when he stuck his head out of the SUV to spit out Ian's cum.  He never swallows him?"

"He always spits it out," Steven answered.  "It's a little gift on the sidewalk beside my house.  Who knows what our neighbors must think when they come upon it while walking to the park."

"Let me give you some advice, Steven.  Leave them alone.  Ian and the mystery guy have a private thing going and they aren't hurting anyone while tucked out of the way in the lane.  Don't mess with them or interfere."

Steven leaned forward and protested.  "I'm not messing with them.  I just want to solve the puzzle.  If I play my cards right, they'll never even know I'm aware of anything."

"My experience is schemes never go according to plan."

#

Chapter 4

I had no intention of being further involved with Steven's game.  But when my date for the next evening canceled, due to a late work project, Steven had called and convincingly pleaded for my continued help.  

"All you have to do is sip wine and watch them, seeking out clues or whatever," Steven said.  "I'll open the very best bottle I've got for you if that's what it takes to earn your cooperation."  

I arrived at Steven's house at half past nine.  True to his word, he uncorked a bottle of vintage French wine and poured me a full glass.  We tiptoed into his backyard and Steven directed his penlight at a stepping stool he had positioned against his backyard wall.  I stood on it, misjudged the height it would elevate me to, and suddenly I was looking directly into Ian's driver side window, just a few feet away.  The movement should have captured Ian's notice, but he was glancing downward.  I dropped back below the wall out of view.

Steven ran after me as I darted back inside his house.  

"Shit, Steven!"

"What happened?"

"He nearly detected me.  I didn't realize your wall was so close to the sidewalk."

"He didn't see you?" Steven asked, astonished.  "Are you certain?"

"I think he missed me, by pure luck."

Steven laughed.  "I expected you to be a bit more graceful."

I poured a second glass of wine as we waited for ten fifteen to draw closer.  I told Steven any further efforts might be futile since Ian could move his SUV somewhere else.  Steven disagreed.  He insisted there was nowhere else in our neighborhood that could afford Ian and the mystery man the same level of concealment, much less somewhere that also included visual oversight of the park.  

Steven, dressed completely in black, like the night before, snuck out of his house at ten minutes after ten.  I remained in his kitchen, finished most of my second glass, got lost for some minutes in my thoughts and then realized it was ten eighteen.  I quietly moved to the wall and clearly heard the sucking sounds before I reached the stepping stool.  The blowjob was so loud it seemed comical.  But as I tentatively peered over the wall, Ian's face was contorted from the pleasure.  His arm stuck out his window and pressed against the SUV door, like he was hanging onto it or propping himself up against it.  A grey hooded head bounced in his lap.

I pulled downward to hide and listened for voices.  

A deep, gravelly voice, not much more than a whisper, was the only sound apart from the slurping.  I instantly knew it had to be Ian's voice.  "Deeper," he said, periodically giving more directives to the hooded man.  "Slower. . .  No teeth . . . Harder . . ."  

I peered over again.  Ian's eyes were clinched shut.  I realized he was far more reactive than I had assumed from watching him from the window above the night before.  His animated face ignited some interest in me and I grew stiff under my jeans.  But I didn't want to be spotted.  I lowered my eyes below the top of the wall again and listened to the remainder of their encounter.  

When I heard the sucking rhythm finally reach fever pitch, Ian began grunting and emitting incoherent squeals.  I peeked over the wall just as the hooded man ejected his head through the SUV window, only an arm's length away from me, and gagged out all of Ian's seed onto the curb.  Astonished by the familiar face, I hesitated one instant too long, and the mystery man locked eyes with me.  I tipped my head with what must have looked like a silly nod, then descended out of view.

I definitely know that face, I said to myself.  No doubt about it.  

Mulling it over a few seconds, everything made sense.  

The only question left for me was whether I would tell Steven the truth.

#

Chapter 5

I waited inside Steven's house that night just long enough to learn that his latest attempt to identify the mystery man had again ended in failure.  

"He's cutting through one of the backyards," Steven said, agitated and confused.  "This guy is very sneaky.  Very wily."

"I think you need to stop intruding," I said.  "You've tried twice now.  It's just not meant to be."

"Did you see anything tonight, Vance?  Anything at all that would help us figure this out?"

"Zero.  It was too dark and neither of them spoke.  And I'm not a part of this, Steven, not anymore, okay?  It was kinda fun to spy, but I can't be doing this."

"Damn."

"Here's what you should do," I said.  "Tomorrow night, when Ian begins his shift, just go out there and introduce yourself.  Take him a cola or sparkling water or coffee, and thank him for keeping the neighborhood safe during the construction."

Steven rolled his eyes with faux disdain.  "You think it's that easy, don't you?"

"Yep.  It can be that easy."

I left Steven with that thought and began walking home.  I had no qualms about lying to Steven about this.  He and I had been prying ourselves into personal matters where we didn't belong.  

A few minutes later, as I approached my house, movement just past my driveway seized my attention.  A figure emerged from the dark and stepped into the glare of the streetlight.  He was clad completely in dark grey.  I stopped and waited for him to approach.

"Vance," he said, pulling the hoodie down off his shiny head.  "Can we talk?"

"Of course, Greg," I answered.  "Come inside."

#

Chapter 6

Greg readily followed me into my house.  I stopped in the kitchen to grab two canned sports drinks and then led Greg onto my back porch, where we relaxed in my reclined lounge chairs.  

Greg and I looked somewhat alike.  Besides both having blue eyes and being the same age and tall height, we had shaved heads and physically fit bodies.  The differences were in our skin tones—mine, an olive brown, his, a light creamy white—and I had beard stubble while Greg was smooth-shaven.  If I had a bit of a Mediterranean appearance, you could say Greg likely had some Scandinavian ancestry.  And while I had more musculature, Greg was trimmer, with no visible body fat whatsoever.

Every neighborhood seems to have at least one famous resident.  For us, in the Rugged Heights neighborhood, that person was Greg.  He had been a professional tennis player through his mid twenties.  His early retirement from the sport, due to chronic elbow injuries, coincided last year with his divorce.  Though no longer competing professionally on the court, Greg had maintained a positive public image and continued winning endorsement deals.

Greg and I were only acquaintances.  We occasionally happened to play games of night basketball with other guys at the neighborhood park.  I heard he had taken a position as the assistant athletic director at the university.  He had always come across as humble and amiable.  Fame had not ruined him.  

Looking across my back patio at him now, I should have been at least a little starstruck.  But I wasn't.  Greg was very ill at ease, almost imperceptibly shaking, his arms tight at his sides and his fists clenched.  

I briefly stood and scooted my chair closer to him.  

"Greg, let me relieve you of any worries.  I will never say a word about it to anyone."

He sighed and exhaled, but his face muscles remained tight.  "Could I be arrested for what I did?"

I lifted my palms with a gesture expressing confusion.  "For what?"

"For screwing around in a vehicle in public."

I shook my head.  "I didn't observe anything like that."

Greg took a deep breath, briefly smiled, his hands opened, and he lifted his elbows out onto the armrests.  "Thank God."

"Don't give it another thought," I said, after chugging much of my energy drink.  "But skip all the risk and just fool around indoors.  Indoors only.  That's my advice to you.  Ian will understand."

Greg lowered his eyebrows.  "That's his name?  The security guard's name?"

"Yes.  It's Ian.  You didn't know that?"

"I didn't.  We never really spoke."

"Interesting," I said, wondering about that.

"Do you think that's unbelievable?"

"Not at all.  We are probably in similar situations.  Coming out, sexually, very late, compared to most men, and there's a freedom that comes with that.  Some people call it promiscuity, but I detest labels and categories."

Greg wanted to know more about me.  He asked about the police force, my friends in the neighborhood, my previous experiences.  Conversation with him was comfortable and I told him the truth.  I believe he was honest with me in return.  We each learned that the past year had been instrumental for us in terms of self discovery, and we realized we shared a couple of mutual friends. 

When Greg finished his drink, and the conversation ebbed, I brought up Ian again.  There was something he had to know and I was thinking of the best way to tell him.  "So let's retreat for a second to the security guard," I said.  "Hooking up with him is relatively new?"

"Yes."

"And he doesn't know who you are, does he?"

"Nope."

"Pretty risky, it seems to me.  You're very attractive, Greg, and you could have your pick of dudes.  It's a little perplexing . . . "

"Do you want to hear how it started?"

"Sure."

"My friend Colton and I often jog after the sun goes down.  About a week ago or so Colton and I finished running a couple miles and split up at the park to head our separate ways.  It was a cool night and I still had my hoodie on as I walked home.  The security guard didn't see me approaching.  I went right beside his SUV.  From the glow of his phone screen, which he had propped against the steering wheel, I could see that his arm was jerking."

"Aha!  Keeping going, please.  This was by Steven's house?"

"Yes," Greg answered. "The same place.  I was halfway down the lane and decided I would gamble getting a better look."

"Ian seems like a stud.  I think I'd do the same thing."

Greg smiled.  "This time I approached him from the back and came right up beside the SUV.  I dared to stop and peek down.  Sure enough, his boner was sticking straight up from his lap and he was beating it while watching some porn video on his phone.  Of course, he busted me.  But instead of reacting with rage or fear, he just stared right at me and kept stroking himself."

"Awesome."

"I didn't need more of an invitation than that," Greg chuckled.  "I crawled in the passenger side and sucked him off."

"You take big chances," I said.

"I always have, I guess.  That helped me in tennis, that's for sure.  Big risks, I mean."

"Understood."

"To finish the story, that first night, after he shot his wad, the guard told me to come on back to him at ten fifteen.  I asked him if he meant the following night.  He replied by nodding and saying, 'Yeah, every night.'"

"And the rest is history?"

"Exactly," Greg answered.  "But it's all over now."

"No more risks?"

"Not with him."

#

Chapter 7

Steven sent me a text message the next afternoon checking to see if I had changed my mind.  I replied that I hadn't and couldn't help him any further with the security guard.  

"Please, Vance, just one more night of spying?" Steven wrote, trying a final plea.

His begging didn't change anything this time.  I sent him a reminder.  "Sorry, but I already told you how to handle this.  Just introduce yourself to Ian in a friendly and open manner.  Give it a try."

I imagined Steven was stewing.  He didn't answer or comment further.  

While working out at the gym, just before dinner, I picked up a call from Greg.  

"Hey, Vance."

"Hang on, it's so loud in here with everyone banging around the weights and barbells," I said.  "Let me step outside."

Greg waited until I exited the facility.  "I'm calling to invite you over for a drink," he said.

"When?"

"Tomorrow night."

"I could do it," I answered, after a slight hesitation.  "But give me a preview."

"Of what?"

"The agenda."

"Vance, you're very straightforward."

"Yep."

"It's just a simple invitation to join me for a drink tomorrow night at my place," Greg said.

"I hope you're not having new concerns that I am going to give away any of your secrets."

"No, I don't have those concerns.  I think you and I developed a good understanding last night on your patio."

"Agreed," I said.  "So your invitation means you just want to spend some time with me?"

"Frankly, yes."

"Then I'll be there."

Greg set the time for ten o'clock the following night and gave me his address.  I returned to the weight room in the gym and powered through a round of bicep curls.  A glance in the mirror revealed to me that I had a silly grin on my face.  I was pretty sure I knew what Greg wanted, and I was certainly game for it.  

A question began to nag at me, however, and it slightly dimmed my enthusiasm for the date, or hookup, or whatever it was going to be.  

Why tomorrow night?  

#

Chapter 8

After leaving the gym, the question continued to pester me.  I tried to distract myself by getting takeout food—pizza and a salad—and then watching a true crime movie on cable.  

I'm not usually one to overanalyze conversations.  But all the pieces weren't adding up.  Why didn't Greg just invite me over tonight if it was only a matter of having a drink?  Was Greg going to give Ian, the security guard, one last blowjob before calling it quits?

Protecting Steven's privacy and being discrete, I hadn't told Greg that Steven had been trying to tail him after the encounters to solve the "mystery."  I thought about it when Greg was on my patio, but two facts stopped me.  First, Greg had told me he was done taking risks with Ian.  Second, I presumed Greg already knew about Steven's attempts to catch him.  To back that up, Greg had not even asked me what I was doing in Steven's backyard or why I was there.  

So Greg certainly had known.  Or hadn't he?  If so rattled by being caught, then maybe he wasn't thinking clearly enough to ask these questions, and that was part of Greg's agenda in asking me over for drinks the next night?  Maybe so.  

I'd know soon enough, I thought.  But things could go haywire tonight.  For example, Steven could finally catch him.  Or Greg could try to explain everything to Ian, to keep their encounters going in a new location, and end up giving away his identity to Ian.  I was stuck in the middle to a certain degree.  I could put a stop to these worst case scenarios, but that would mean violating either Steven or Greg's trust and privacy.  

At ten fifteen I leaped off my couch, shut down the television set, put on dark clothing and a ball cap, and crept out my front door.

I felt like a private detective from the 1940s, hiding in the night shadows, avoiding the streetlights, moving quickly without a sound.  It was funny, I thought, that after all that had happened, it was me who was the one on the prowl.

I rounded the bend in the lane toward Steven's house and Ian's SUV came into view.  Yet again it was parked flush against the curb by Steven's wall.  I advanced closer, remaining hidden, approaching from the back, not from the direction of the park.  I found a place along the wall to crouch down out of the glow of the nearest streetlight.   Then I slid behind the vehicle and hunkered low so Ian couldn't see me in his rearview mirror.  

Familiar sounds filled my ears.  The wet slurping, as loud as before, and Ian groaning out his commands, in a deep voice, to slow down, speed up, or suck harder.  I peered up just enough so that I could see through the back window.  It was only a silhouette, though it was the unmistakable image of a hoodie-covered head bobbing up and down over Ian's lap.

My heart sank with disappointment.  I moved away from the SUV and returned to the dark hiding place along the wall.  I had no right to expect Greg to give Ian up so easily.  It was just sex, I reminded myself.  But at that moment I realized I was looking forward to time alone with Greg to a degree I hadn't admitted to myself.

I scanned the lane behind me, searching for any sign of Steven, who was surely also on the prowl tonight.  If Steven also found me out on the streets, I would have some explaining to do.  

I was just about to slither away and head for home when the blowjob reached its climax.  There had been plenty of grunting, again, but no spitting this time.  I heard murmuring voices.  I went back behind the SUV and saw the silhouettes of the two men sitting upright.  They were conversing.  The man talking to Ian turned his face sideways, revealing himself.

"Steven," I said, under my breath, happy for him.  "He actually pulled it off."  

#

Chapter 9

What if Greg were to show up right now and discover Steven in Ian's SUV?  I thought about that some more.  Things could still get ugly tonight.  

I carefully left the vicinity of Ian's SUV and searched the surrounding streets.  Seeing no one at all, I looped around the block and walked around portions of the park.  Knowing Greg could be lurking anywhere, I paused near the park's basketball court and watched for any movements.  

Nothing.

Still, I wanted to be sure.  I recalled Greg's address and headed directly there.  It was one of the nicer homes in the neighborhood and showed signs of professional landscaping and tree care.  His front porch light was on.  I went to the door and knocked.  A minute later Greg, barefoot, answered in a plush beige robe and his cheeks were slightly rosy.  

"This is a surprise," Greg said, opening his door wider.

"It's late and I'm intruding," I said.

"Come in, Vance."  

Greg patted me on the back and led me down to his basement, which was essentially an elaborate blend of a man cave and a media room.  The space was divided into gaming areas, with both a billiards table and air hockey table, a full bar, and deluxe stadium seats tilted up toward an enormous television monitor filling most of a wall.  The screen image was frozen.  A hulking, shirtless construction worker on a rooftop was getting head from a well-dressed young dandy on his knees.

"Oops," Greg said, with a sly smile, as he noticed his television screen.  "I meant to turn that off."  

"Keep it on, my friend."

"Yeah?  That's why you're here a day early?"

"Not necessarily," I answered.  "I should have phoned first and then I wouldn't have interrupted you red handed."

"Well, I'm glad you're here.  What's on your mind?"

"Curiosity, to be exact.  I confess I wondered if you had really given up that security guard so definitively."

"I did," Greg said.  "He must be speculating on why I didn't show up tonight.  But I can't take a chance explaining anything and have him figure out who I am."

"Don't worry.  He'll certainly be fine."  I said this without intrigue or sarcasm.  There was no use in opening a Pandora's box by hinting at anything between Ian and Steven.

"Yeah, I suppose so."  Greg turned toward his bar.  "Can I get you something?"

"Naw, I'm good, thanks.  I think I'm going to slip back home and give you your privacy.  I'll be back tomorrow night, however, if we're still on for our date."

Greg came closer to me.  "Don't go, Vance.  Now that you're here, have a seat and join me.  I mean it.  I don't want you to leave."

"All right."

"Kick off your shoes and get comfortable," Greg added.  "I'm handing the remote control to you.  Turn the DVD off and we'll talk, or hit the play button and we'll see what happens."

#

Chapter 10

After removing my sneakers, sitting beside Greg in a movie theater style chair, and reclining, I pushed the "play" button on Greg's remote.  But I only watched the movie's construction zone scene on the monitor until Greg loosened the knot on his belt and parted his robe.  I reached over and slipped my hand inside, investigating with my fingers, feeling his cut abs and firm torso.  

Greg opened his robe wider and watched me touch him.  He had only slight chest hair, about half as much I had, and it was lighter brown and soft.  His erection popped out, straining upward toward his ceiling.  Before I groped him, I marveled at the beauty of his manhood, which was unblemished and pale, like a marble sculpture from a Renaissance artist.  He bent over toward me and we kissed while I fondled him.  

I stood up and Greg undressed me.  He seemed mesmerized my body, rolling his hands along my shoulders, smelling under my arms, squeezing my butt cheeks.  "This ass is spectacular, Vance."  Greg added other compliments, but I was focused so much on the sensations that I forgot most of them.  He said he hadn't been with an uncut guy before.  He teased my foreskin and felt how it retracted and stretched in his palm.  

We kissed again and lowered ourselves to the floor below the television monitor.  We were not in a hurry, though I could feel his hunger in the way he touched me, with an intensity that was genuine and down-to-earth.  When I flipped onto my stomach, Greg massaged my feet, legs, buttocks, and back.  He then moved between my thighs, parted my knees, and used his fingers and tongue to explore my hole.  Greg was remarkably gentle and generous, seemingly concerned with my pleasure more than his own. 

When he finally let me up, Greg rotated onto his back and asked me to hump his face.  I maneuvered on to him in the 69 position.  Immediately, we were each deep in each other's throats, our noses at each other's balls. I gyrated my hips, probing and thrusting into his mouth, and Greg moaned with abandon.  I could feel his erection throbbing against the roof of my mouth and my tonsils.  When I started to speed up, Greg gagged and patted my hips, signaling for me to keep a slow pace.  His rhythmic moaning grew louder, lulled me into a state where I lost track of time, and we were likely giving each other simultaneous oral pleasure for at least an hour.

My trance was broken when Greg's hips began to quiver.  He clasped his hands onto my butt cheeks, taking me even deeper inside.  As he burst out a muffled yell, his semen filled my mouth.  I swallowed him and pounded into his face until I was ready to climax, too.  I pulled out, stroked and hovered directly over his partially open lips, and rocketed out ropes of my seed, fully glazing his entire face.  

I collapsed at Greg's side and he put me in his mouth again as I finished pulsing.  I drew his body closer and we cuddled like that for several minutes, saying nothing and listening to the funky electronic music playing during the ending movie credits on the television monitor above us.  

When we sat up, dried cum streaks were evident on Greg's cheeks, chin, and forehead.  I genially squeezed his arm.  "Let's shower."

"Jumping in the pool is even easier," Greg said.  "And I keep the water warm."

"Fine.  We need to clean you up."

"Vance, I have to ask you a question.  Are we still on for tomorrow night?  Or was this a one time shot?"

I stood up and pulled Greg's arm, helping him to his feet.  I kissed him and tasted myself on his lips.  "As far as I'm concerned, we're just getting started."

"Perfect answer," Greg said, right before dashing away, daring me to race him to the pool.  I was just a few steps behind, clamoring up the steps, and caught up with him as he opened the sliding glass door to his backyard.  We reached his pool at the same time, leaping into the deep end, and when we broke through the surface, Greg's smooth skin gleamed in the faint moonlight.  

"What's that peculiar look on your face?" he asked me, swimming closer.  

"Fascination."

"With me?"

"Indeed."

#

Author's Note

Thank you for reading "Prowling the Neighborhood," the fourth story in the Men of Rugged Heights series. 

The first three books, which can be read as part of the series or as stand alone stories, are:

Serving the Neighborhood

Patrolling the Neighborhood

Daring the Neighborhood

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review.  For updates on new release and book specials, please join my mailing list at JaylenFlorian.com.

Best wishes, and I appreciate your support.

Jaylen