Chapter 49 STROKING MYSELF TO THOUGHTS OF MY NEIGHBOUR
Kinks: masturbation, male/male, fantasy,
I lay in bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, staring down at my naked cock already half-hard against my stomach. The room was quiet, just the hum of the city outside my window, but my mind was anything but still. It kept drifting to him—my biker neighbor, the guy who revved his motorcycle every morning like he owned the damn street. I'd seen him earlier today, striding out of his place in that tight leather jacket, tattoos snaking up his thick arms, his broad shoulders flexing as he swung a leg over his bike.
God, he was all raw power, early thirties with that rugged face and a stare that could pin you down. I didn't even know his name, but fuck, I wanted him to know mine. My hand itched to touch myself, the craving building like a fire in my gut.
I wrapped my fingers around my cock, feeling it throb and swell in my grip. It was hot, the skin smooth and tight, pre-cum already beading at the tip. I started slow, sliding my hand up and down, imagining him right there in the room with me. In my head, he kicked the door shut behind him, his boots thudding on the floor as he peeled off that leather jacket.
His muscles rippled under his shirt—big pecs, defined abs, all inked with those dark tattoos that screamed danger. He looked at me like he knew exactly what I needed, his eyes dark and hungry.
'You been watching me, kid?' he'd growl, his voice rough like gravel. I squeezed my cock harder at the thought, my breath catching. Yeah, I've been watching, I wanted to say. Every time you rev that engine, it makes me hard.
The fantasy sharpened as I pumped my hand faster, my tight body arching off the bed. I pictured him stripping the rest of his clothes, his leather pants dropping to reveal thick thighs and that massive cock hanging heavy between his legs. It was veined and uncut, bigger than mine, curving up as he got hard just from looking at me.
He grabbed my shoulders, pushing me down onto the mattress, his weight pinning me in place. I could almost feel his calloused hands on my skin, rough from gripping handlebars all day.
'Gonna fuck you like you deserve,' he'd mutter, his breath hot against my neck. My strokes matched the rhythm in my mind—up and down, twisting at the head where it was most sensitive. A low moan escaped my lips, my hips bucking into my fist. The ache in my balls grew, that deep need for him to take me rough, to make me his.
I closed my eyes, letting the image take over. He flipped me onto my stomach, his strong hands spreading my ass cheeks wide. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but so fucking turned on. His tongue—wet and insistent—licked a stripe up my crack, teasing my hole until I was gasping. Then his fingers pushed in, thick and lubed with spit, stretching me open.
'Tight little ass,' he'd say, chuckling low as he worked me. In reality, my free hand reached back, mimicking him, one finger circling my entrance before sliding inside. It burned a little, but the pleasure shot straight to my cock. I jerked harder now, my palm slick with pre-cum, the wet sounds filling the room. My heart pounded, sweat beading on my chest, every nerve alive with want. He was everything I craved—dominant, masculine, that biker edge making it all feel dangerous and real.
The fantasy escalated, rougher now, just like I needed. He pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock, the fat head pressing against my hole. No mercy, he thrust in deep, filling me in one brutal push. I cried out in my mind, the stretch intense, but it hurt so good. He gripped my hips, tattoos flexing on his forearms, pounding into me with the force of his bike's engine. Each slap of his balls against mine echoed in my head, his grunts mixing with my moans.
'Take it, boy. This what you want from your neighbor?' Yes, fuck yes. I wanted him to own me, to fuck the curiosity right out of me until I was begging. My hand flew over my cock, faster, tighter, chasing that edge. My breathing came in ragged gasps, chest heaving, the room spinning with lust. Emotions swirled—shame at how bad I wanted this stranger, thrill at the forbidden pull, pure horniness driving me wild.
I imagined him flipping me over, hooking my legs over his shoulders, driving deeper while staring into my eyes. His muscles strained, sweat dripping from his brow onto my skin. I reached up, tracing the tattoos on his chest, feeling the power under my fingers. He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a hard kiss, tongue invading like his cock in my ass.
The intimacy hit me hard—not just the fucking, but the connection, like he saw my craving and fed it. In my bed, I twisted my nipple with my free hand, the sharp pain adding to the build-up. My cock leaked steadily now, veins bulging, so close. 'Cum for me,' he'd command, his thrusts turning erratic. I was there, teetering, body tense.
Faster, harder—I jerked my cock with everything I had, the fantasy peaking as he buried himself deep and unloaded, hot cum flooding my ass. That pushed me over. I came explosively, ropes of cum shooting across my stomach, splattering my chest.
My vision blurred, a guttural groan tearing from my throat as waves of pleasure crashed through me. My hand slowed, milking every drop, body shuddering in the aftershocks. But even as I panted, catching my breath, the want lingered. What if he knocked on my door tomorrow? What if this fantasy turned real? I wiped my hand on the sheet, heart still racing, wondering if he'd ever know how much I needed him.