It was one hot Arabian night.
Danny Melton lives in a depressed part of town that is a melting pot of
various cultures and creeds. He likes it there because it’s cheap and
cheerful, and close to the college where he’s studying. He rents the
upstairs of a dilapidated terrace house that leaks when it rains, but
he’s happy, not a problem in the world. Well, just one - Jasim, the Arab
guy downstairs who has been belligerent and antagonistic ever since he
caught Danny talking to his young pregnant wife. When on the night
before his big exam, he can’t concentrate to study because of the
excessive noise from a party downstairs, celebrating the birth of
Jasim’s son, Danny has to pluck up the courage to enter the lion’s den
to ask them all to keep the noise down. The reaction to his request is
It was while hanging up clothes one day that I first saw my neighbor.
The landlord had informed me that downstairs was rented by a young Arab
and his wife and that the husband was some sort of laborer. He wasn’t
quite sure exactly what he did for a living. He didn’t pry into other
people’s business provided they paid their rent on time and kept the
premises neat and tidy. My neighbor top-scored in all relevant
He was working in a small area of the backyard that had been set aside
as a vegetable garden. It was thriving under his maintenance and it
looked as if he spent a fair amount of time tending it. However, it
wasn’t the garden that drew my attention. It was the guy himself. Tall,
dark and dazzling is a totally inadequate description.
His body looked as if it had been cast in bronze by one of the greatest
of Renaissance sculptors. He had abs, he had pecs, he had biceps on
triceps on quadceps on…plus he had the most delicious glutes a man could
want. I know because he tended his garden patch in just a pair of
skimpy shorts and when he bent over to pull a weed out of the ground or
whatever it was he was doing – gardening has never been one of my strong
suits – his shorts hugged his ass so tightly I was hoping the stitching
would give way. No such luck. One fact couldn’t be denied, the man was a
walking wet dream.
He stood over six feet, his arms and legs indications that he was fit
and strong, and obviously lifted and carried great weights for a living.
He was the personification of everything a magazine such as Men’s
Health stood for, and put most of their cover models to shame. He could
have been a Hollywood leading man, a top fashion model, a porn star, or a
gigolo; instead he was planting vegetables in an inner city backyard
obviously totally unaware of his potential. I can’t believe some
enterprising agent hadn’t attempted to sign him up. Even if he couldn’t
act his way out of a paper bag, he was drool worthy just bending over.
He must have sensed someone watching him because he stood to wipe his
forehead with his T-shirt that was draped over the back fence. He caught
me staring, so I waved and shouted ‘Hello, I’m your new neighbor.’ In
what had to be a deliberate provocation, he spat onto the lawn while
looking directly at me, his face anything but friendly.
I did wonder what had brought on his contempt until I noticed among all
the sheets and other items on their washing line, his wife also pegging
out their clothes. He had obviously assumed I was ogling her. He snapped
a command at her and she hurried into the house, covering her face as
she went. I had been too busy slobbering over him to even register she
was around. Major faux pas.
Okay, I can take a hint. I finished pegging my clothes on the makeshift
line as fast as possible before clambering back through the bathroom
window to watch him secretly from behind the living room curtains, the
second of only two spots that overlooked the backyard. He continued with
his work, glancing up at my windows from time to time and, once he was
convinced I was no longer ogling him, visibly relaxed.
I was hard in my jeans and found it difficult to refrain from dragging
out my cock to relieve myself. I wondered whether that was permissible
after he had made it blatantly obvious that he didn’t wish himself or
his wife to be perved upon. Well, mate, if you don’t want men to jerk
off while fantasizing about your hot bod, then you shouldn’t look like
that. Yeah, I know that’s a real piss weak excuse. So sue me. I had to
drain my balls and, in the privacy of my own mind, I’d use any visual
material I could muster. I used my neighbor, or rather, he used me over
and over again in so many different situations over the coming (and I do
mean coming) weeks, I thought I’d wear him out. Such a pity it was all
in my mind.