Neighbors

Roger sat at his desk under the cool, blue glow of his computer screen, his fingers hovering over the mouse as he reviewed two messages that stood out among several replies. He had spent the last hour rewriting an email that eventually read simply:

"Hello. I liked your ad. Tell me more about yourself."

It was far from poetic, but it was safe—a habit refined over decades of caution. At fifty-eight, having been married once and divorced long enough not to matter, he now lived alone in a house that was too big for one, drove a practical car, and dressed in a manner that helped him blend into the background. Yet despite his chosen solitude, the silence of his home had recently begun to echo with an unspoken question.

That persistent emptiness had led him to Silverdaddies, where he cautiously posted a vague profile—enough to confirm his existence, but not enough to reveal his identity. By morning, two replies had come through.

The first was from Karl, a retired teacher who described himself as “bookish but not boring.” He reminisced about jazz, old movies, and the comfort of a quiet evening spent with someone special, his measured words betraying a lifetime of bottled-up feelings now ready to surface.

The second was from Dan, a former construction worker who wrote with assured directness. His warm, teasing messages—once remarking, “I like a guy who knows how to enjoy a good meal”—made Roger blush despite their innocent nature.

Both men shared intriguing commonalities. Each mentioned the same local coffee shop—Karl as a writing nook, Dan from memories of repairing the building—and both lamented the new development that was erasing the character of their town. Karl had called it “a shame,” while Dan had dismissed it as “a goddamn eyesore.” Even their casual remarks about finding well-fitting jeans and comfortable clothes for “guys built like us” hinted at a shared perspective.

Roger leaned back, his stomach twisting as he examined the messages again. The identical references to local places were almost too precise, and when he checked the headers, he realized that Karl and Dan were both messaging from the same location.

His heart pounded as he wondered: who were they, and what drew both to him?

He hadn’t expected much when he sent those tentative emails. For years, he had drifted through life—his ex-wife once accused him of “fading away,” and over time he had blended into routines so unremarkable that even his own reflection had changed. The realization of his quiet isolation was accompanied by a growing, unnamed desire, a longing once repressed until a late-night ad reading “Looking for good company. Discretion assured” nudged him toward Silverdaddies.

Despite his longstanding aversion to photos—cameras made him appear older and flatter—both Karl and Dan had asked for a glimpse of his face. “I’d love to put a face to the name,” Karl had written in careful politeness, while Dan goaded him, “Come on, don’t be shy. Bet you’re handsome.” Reluctantly, Roger took a modest photo of himself and sent it.

Their responses were swift. Karl replied, "You have kind eyes. I like that," and Dan followed with, "Knew you’d be a looker." Moments later, each sent their own photo. Karl’s image revealed a broad-shouldered man with thinning but well-kept silver hair—an oddly familiar face—while Dan presented a thicker-built man with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp blue eyes, another face that triggered a subtle, inexplicable recognition.

Driven by curiosity, Roger looked out his front window. To his shock, the neighboring house, long occupied by two men he had only exchanged casual greetings with, now presented these very images. On the porch, a man resembling Karl sat on a swing, absorbed in a book; in the garage, a man matching Dan’s description was busy tightening something under a truck. Both had been living next door for years, yet neither had hinted at knowing him.

Throbbing with disbelief, he stepped onto his porch, the wooden boards creaking underfoot. Karl continued reading as though nothing were amiss, while Dan abruptly stopped, wiped his hands, and fixed Roger with an appraising, unsmiling gaze.

Panic surged through him. Confounded and exposed, Roger slipped back inside, slamming the door as his breath quickened. Standing there in the dim glow, he was left wondering what would come next.

Perhaps they hadn’t recognized him—or were simply pretending.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Roger’s stomach tightened. Fifteen minutes had passed—a window just long enough for conversation, deduction, and decision-making. He stared at the door.

Then came another, slower knock.

"Roger?" Dan’s voice called.

That sound stole his breath. They knew.

He hesitated with his hand hovering near the knob, every instinct warning him to delay until they lost interest. But then Karl’s firm yet gentle voice broke through, "Please open up. Let’s talk."

Swallowing hard, Roger realized that pretending he wasn’t home wouldn’t change anything. With trembling resolve, he turned the knob and opened the door.

Stepping aside, he allowed Dan and Karl into his home—a place long devoid of visitors, especially ones like these. The air was thick with unspoken tension as Karl quietly surveyed the room while Dan simply stood there, hands buried in his pockets as if he owned the place.

"So, you two…" Roger began, his voice rough.

Karl offered a small, knowing smile. "Yeah, we were equally surprised."

Dan chuckled. "I always thought you were our quiet neighbor. Didn’t expect you popping up in my inbox."

Roger winced; he was known as the reclusive, divorced guy who barely joined block parties and never invited anyone over. He had assumed he went unnoticed. Apparently, he was mistaken.

Karl shifted, crossing his arms. "We see you differently now."

"Different how?" Roger asked.

Dan smirked. "For starters, we didn’t know you were into guys."

Roger’s stomach twisted. "I don’t—" he began, then stopped; his evenings on Silverdaddies and the messages from men told another story.

"You don’t have to explain," Karl said gently. "We’re not here to judge."

Dan nodded. "But we do have an offer."

Roger blinked. "An offer?"

Karl exchanged a glance with Dan before stepping forward. "We’re a couple, but we also date separately."

Less delicately, Dan added, "We see other men sometimes—and we’d both like to date you."

Roger’s mind reeled. "Date me?" he echoed.

"Yeah, Rog. Date you. Maybe more, if you’re interested," Dan grinned.

Karl’s expression softened. "We don’t expect an immediate answer. If you’re interested, we’d love to take you out. No pressure."

Roger’s mouth went dry. "No pressure?" Even as his world tilted, they discussed dating as if it were the most natural thing. He barely dated at all—not women, not men—since his divorce.

Yet his eyes oscillated between Karl, steady and warm, and Dan, cocky and electric. Perhaps it was reckless—maybe doomed—but maybe this was exactly what he needed.

Before he could second-guess himself, he said, "Okay, I’ll give it a shot."

Dan’s grin widened and Karl beamed. For the first time in years, something stirred in Roger’s chest besides loneliness—a spark of genuine anticipation.

Almost immediately, a first date was set. Dan insisted on going first.

Dan picked Roger up in his old, slightly beat-up pickup truck that rumbled like a tired dog. Without revealing their destination, Dan simply grinned, "Trust me."

Roger, accustomed to avoiding situations where he had to rely on others—especially men—nodded apprehensively as they drove past town along a long, dusty road to a roadside bar he’d never noticed before. The bar wasn’t his usual haunt—too loud, too rough, filled with men who looked as if they spent their days working with their hands. Yet Dan fit in perfectly, exchanging hearty slaps on the back and ordering two whiskeys.

Roger sat stiffly at the bar, unsure how to blend in. Dan nudged him with an elbow. "Relax, Rog. You look like you’re expecting a firing squad."

Roger exhaled and sipped his drink; its burning heat gave him something to do with his hands. Dan talked at length—stories of his farm upbringing, youthful misadventures, and the restless path that eventually led him back home for love. "I never pictured settling in the suburbs," Dan admitted, "but Karl liked the place, and I liked Karl. So here we are."

Listening intently, Roger felt the ease in Dan’s tone loosen his reserve.

By the time they returned to Roger’s driveway, Roger was pleasantly tipsy. Dan parked the truck and, flashing his confident grin, asked, "So, you gonna invite me in or act like you don’t want me?"

Roger's throat constricted as he swallowed, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitable desires unfolding between them. With a knowing look that spoke volumes, he beckoned, "Come inside," his voice a blend of invitation and anticipation.

The door's soft click echoed in the dimly lit room as Dan, burning with desire, seized him. Without hesitation, Dan captured Roger in a fervent kiss, his rough, calloused hands exploring Roger’s sides with an animalistic urgency that ignited every nerve. Roger’s breath caught in his chest, a vivid reminder of how long it had been since anyone had stirred him so completely, every touch rekindling dormant fires.

Roger’s skin flushed a deep, passionate red, damp with the heat of longing as he looked up into Dan’s eyes, now glazed in the haze of overwhelming pleasure. "That was incredible," he murmured, his voice trembling with awe and the echo of every exquisite caress.

A playful grin curled on Dan’s lips as he traced an errant finger along the contours of Roger’s jawline, leaving a trail of electrifying sensation. "We're just getting started, babe," he whispered, leaning in again for a kiss laden with hunger and promise. His tongue danced teasingly with Roger’s, exploring with a playful audacity that mirrored the intensity of his desire.

Roger’s hands roamed eagerly over the toned planes of Dan’s back, pulling him closer with an insatiable need, yearning for an unbroken connection. With a boldness that matched his desire, he slid his hand between them, stroking the firm, throbbing evidence of Dan’s arousal. In response, Dan let out a low, guttural groan, his hips rocking forward in time with the passion of their embrace.

Their positions shifted fluidly, the intensity of their union marking every move until Dan lay on his back and Roger found himself straddling him, perfectly aligned between Dan’s legs. Roger took a suspended moment to admire the vista before him—Dan's chest framed by a trail of hair that led down to the proud, throbbing length of his desire. With a tentative curiosity and a hunger that could not be silenced, Roger leaned in to delicately lick the tip, savoring the salty tang and the electric shiver that ran through both their bodies. Encouraged by a deep moan from Dan, Roger enveloped the head with his lips, suckling gently as if trying to capture each nuance of his lover’s need.

"Fuck, Rog, that's perfect," Dan gasped, his voice thick with desire as his fingers tangled eagerly in Roger's hair. Roger took Dan deeper with an unyielding rhythm, his head rising and falling, each motion punctuated by Dan’s gasps and whispered praises that filled the room with a symphony of lust.

Before long, Dan pulled Roger aside with a determined, breathless grip. "I need to fuck you," he growled, his desire unmistakable. Roger whimpered in anticipation, his body a canvas of longing, as Dan retrieved the lube and a condom with deliberate slowness, each movement building the intensity of what was to come.

Taking his time, Dan prepared Roger with meticulous care, teasing him open with slick, tantalizing fingers until Roger’s body quivered and he begged for more. Finally, with precision and desire intertwined, Dan aligned himself and pushed in with a long, slow thrust that sent both of them spiraling into shared ecstasy.

Dan established a deep, rolling rhythm, angling his hips with a mastery that found the exact spot that made Roger’s senses explode like stardust. Roger clung desperately to him, his blunt nails etching gentle, passionate marks into Dan’s shoulders as they were both swept away in a tide of sheer bliss. The room resonated with the sounds of ragged breathing, the gentle collision of skin, and whispered declarations of rapture that melded into a living, breathing testament to their desire.

Their bodies, entwined and perfectly attuned, moved together in a rhythm as ancient as time, ascending a breathtaking peak of passion. Roger reached his climax first, an untamed, pure release that cascaded between their sweat-slicked bodies, a liquid echo of his unleashed ecstasy. Almost immediately after, Dan followed, his cry of release mingling with Roger’s name as if it were a sacred incantation, each shudder of his climax sealing the fervor of their union.

In the tender aftermath, they collapsed together in a heap of sated passion, exchanging soft, lingering kisses as their hearts gradually slowed their wild beating. Wrapped in the gentle glow of afterglow, their intertwined forms spoke of a world made right through their shared, exquisite intimacy.

Karl’s date was different from the start.

He picked up Roger in a sleek car, dressed in a tailored jacket, and took him to an upscale restaurant—a place Roger had always assumed was meant for someone else.

Always the gentleman, Karl pulled out Roger’s chair before seating himself.

“I hope you don’t mind wine,” Karl said, “because I already ordered a bottle.”

Roger nodded, feeling both self-conscious and intrigued.

Karl was engaging and curious, asking insightful questions about books, movies, and travel destinations. In previous relationships, Roger had always been the one asking questions, so this newfound openness felt unexpected.

By the time dessert arrived, Roger realized he was truly enjoying himself.

Noticing Roger’s shift in mood, Karl smiled over his wine glass. “You're more charming than you let on.”

Roger scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that about me before.”

Leaning in, Karl softened his tone. “Then they weren’t paying attention.”

That sent a shiver down Roger’s spine.

When they arrived at Roger’s house, even though he didn’t show any obvious signs of nervousness, every moment made him feel unusually alert—like when Karl’s fingers gently brushed his arm near the door, or when Karl’s eyes casually rested on his mouth.

Inside, the low light in Roger’s living room mixed with an unspoken tension and a heady anticipation of what was to come. Karl’s presence filled the space effortlessly, his quiet confidence touching every silent corner.

With a firm, yet gentle hold, Karl guided Roger to the center of the room. His gaze roamed over every curve of Roger’s body as he said, in a soft but commanding tone, “Take off your clothes for me. I want to see all of you.”

Roger’s breath caught at the request, a thrill rising within at the thought of being completely exposed under Karl’s attentive eyes. His hands trembled slightly as he began undressing, each garment falling away to reveal a mature and undeniably attractive form.

When the last piece of clothing pooled at his feet, Roger stood completely bare and vulnerable, his skin sparkling with goosebumps under Karl’s intense gaze. Slowly, Karl circled him, taking in every detail—the gentle curve of his waist, the soft dip of his chest, and the contours of his most intimate parts nestled between his thighs. Though exposed, Roger felt cherished, as Karl’s admiring look was both unnerving and deeply arousing.

“Stunning,” Karl murmured, his finger tracing along the curve of Roger’s shoulder before drifting down his spine. “Simply exquisite.”

Roger shivered under the touch, desire stirring within him as Karl’s fingertips danced over his skin, familiarizing themselves with every contour and hidden spot that made his pulse race. Pausing to cup Roger’s soft chest, Karl teased his dusky nipples until they hardened, drawing an involuntary, delicate gasp.

“These are such a delight,” Karl said lightly, playfully caressing the sensitive spots. “They respond so beautifully.”

Moving lower, Karl’s hands trailed over the slight curve of Roger’s stomach, following a path of silver hair until he reached the natural nest of curls at the base of Roger’s erect manhood—proudly standing with a flushed, glistening head.

Karl wrapped his fingers around the shaft and began a slow, measured stroke that made Roger’s knees weaken. “And what do we have here?” he mused, his voice husky with desire. “Such eagerness.”

A soft whimper escaped Roger as Karl’s expert touch teased along the sensitive ridge, caressing away the bead of moisture at the tip. His lower body tensed, longing for more.

But Karl wasn’t finished. He released Roger’s stiff erection and shifted his attention, cupping Roger’s heavy testicles and gently rolling them in his hand. “They deserve some attention too, don’t you think?” he said, giving them a careful squeeze.

Roger could only nod, lost amid the overwhelming sensations that sparked alive every nerve.

Karl’s skilled hands continued their exploration, tracing every curve and hidden crease of Roger’s yearning flesh. Each gentle caress sent electric shivers through him, stirring desires that had lain dormant. Karl’s touches were both reverent and hungry, honoring Roger’s form while fanning the flames of their mutual longing.

“I think you’re ready,” Karl purred, his voice full of promise. Slowly, he began removing his own clothes, revealing a toned, seasoned body inch by tantalizing inch. Roger took in the sight of Karl’s defined chest, the light dusting of silver hair, and the clear sign of his arousal pressed against his briefs.

At last, Karl stood before him, naked and proud—a living work of art shaped by time and experience. Closing the small gap between them until their warm bodies nearly touched, Karl pulled Roger into a searing kiss. Their mouths met, tongues entwining in a timeless dance as they explored and tasted one another, lost in a heady rush of passion.

Karl and Roger’s kiss deepened as Karl’s hands roamed over every hidden contour, eliciting soft gasps and moans. With deliberate tenderness, Karl guided Roger back onto the bed, tracing a path of warm, teasing kisses along his trembling skin. His mouth lit up Roger’s neck and chest with a cascade of liquid warmth, each swirling lick coaxing Roger to arch upward in desperate need.

Sliding lower, Karl’s lips and teeth grazed the quivering skin of Roger’s stomach before he reached that straining heat. “Exquisite,” Karl murmured, marveling at every sensitive detail as he lavished attention on Roger’s desire. His tongue danced around Roger’s sensitive crown, leaving behind a trail of musky, tantalizing warmth. Roger cried out softly, fingers tangling in Karl’s silver hair as their shared passion built into a symphony of soft sucking and gentle slurping.

Driven by an urgent hunger, Roger reversed their positions, rolling them so that Karl now lay beneath him. With eyes full of ardor, Roger admired every inch of Karl—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the natural blush of his skin, and the proud evidence of his arousal. Consumed by longing, Roger descended upon Karl, planting scorching kisses along his neck and nibbling tenderly until Karl writhed beneath him, gasping for more.

Roger’s hands mapped every contour of Karl’s body with greedy precision. His tongue softly coaxed Karl’s hardened nipples until a low, needy moan escaped. “God, Roger, please—I need you,” Karl panted, his fingertips digging into Roger’s neck. That plea ignited something primal in Roger; with an animalistic growl, his fingers intertwined their heated lengths. Karl’s response was fiery as their bodies pressed together in a dance of escalating desire.

Drawing upon all his Dan-taught practiced passion, Roger aligned himself, pushing slowly into Karl’s tight, yielding warmth. Their bodies melded in a deep, rolling rhythm that sent shivers of ecstatic pleasure coursing through them both. Each deliberate thrust found that secret spot, each cry and whispered command fanning the flames of their union until they reached a fervent, shared climax. With one final, powerful motion, their passion exploded—a rush of heated release that left them both trembling and utterly entwined.

In the quiet aftermath, their breathing mingled as Roger trailed soft, tender kisses along Karl’s hip. With deliberate care, he caressed Karl’s skin once more, his warm breath and gentle tongue revisiting favorite spots. “Your mouth… it’s heaven,” Karl murmured, eyes dark with need. And as they lay together in a tangle of spent limbs and lingering desire, every lingering touch promised that this shared ecstasy was just the beginning.

Later, as they lay in bed, Karl’s fingers traced subtle patterns on Roger’s skin.

“Do you think you’ll see Dan again?” Karl asked teasingly.

Roger laughed. “I think he’d show up even if I said no.”

Karl smiled. “That does sound like him. And what about me?”

Meeting Karl’s gaze in the dim light, Roger replied softly, “I’d like that.”

Karl kissed him slowly and sweetly.

For once, Roger allowed himself to simply enjoy it.

Roger hesitated at Karl and Dan’s doorstep, hands deep in his pockets and heart pounding. A party—though nothing like what he’d anticipated. Karl’s invitation had been casual: “Nothing too wild. Just a few drinks, good company, and a bit of fun.” Dan’s playful addition, “And bring a swimsuit. Unless you want to go without,” had made him laugh nervously, believing it was all in jest.

It wasn’t.

Inside, the open living room and kitchen teemed with people. Clusters of men—most around Karl and Dan’s age, with a few younger like Roger—mingled while some sipped drinks. Familiar faces from town and community events stirred a sudden anxiety in him; they knew him, knew him before. Hovering at the door doubt crept in.

Then Dan clapped him on the back, handing him a drink. “Glad you made it, Rog. Let me introduce you around.” Stiff but willing, Roger followed.

Out in the backyard, Karl mingled effortlessly. Roger’s eyes were immediately drawn to a large, steaming hot tub lit softly, where several men swirled their drinks and chatted—most of them unclothed. Roger nearly choked on his drink as Dan teased with, “Relax. No one bites. Unless you’re into that.”

He gulped his drink in response.

The night blurred into a haze of conversation, laughter, and more drinks. Gradually, Roger found himself talking to both new faces and old acquaintances—some divorced, others discreetly avoiding commitment. Knowing glances and shared smiles kindled a sense of belonging.

After several drinks, Roger found himself near the hot tub, watching its swirling steam. Karl, already without his clothes, slipped into the tub and remarked, “It feels amazing. You should join us.” Relieved, Roger exhaled. Then he saw Dan casually shedding his shirt and jeans before tossing them aside. Dan caught his gaze and smirked, “What?” Roger, flushed, offered a quiet, “Nothing.” Dan’s knowing grin and his subsequent step into the hot tub nudged Roger further. With a laugh in the background, someone called out, “Come on, Roger, it’s just skin,” and something in him shifted. The part that had lived in shadows was ready to step into the light.

He set his drink down and began to undress despite trembling fingers. Though his skin had softened with time, the hot tub’s warmth embraced him, easing his anxiety. Karl welcomed him; Dan’s arm draped over his shoulders. Roger was no longer an outsider—he was a part of the moment.

As water lapped his chest, the figures around him blurred together in warmth and steam. Liquor softened inhibitions, yet Dan’s arm and Karl’s knee grounding him felt undeniably real. “Feeling good?” Karl murmured close to his ear. Roger nodded, hyperaware of his changed body, yet both men looked at him with an insatiable hunger.

“Relax,” Dan whispered, squeezing Roger’s shoulder and trailing his fingers down his arm. Before Roger could speak, Karl’s hand slid over his thigh under the water, making his breath hitch. Dan chuckled, “Oh yeah, I think he likes that.” The gesture was bold, and though Roger glanced around at the accepting smiles and mild amusement of onlookers, nothing made him shrink away.

Shaky, Roger managed, “This is—” “New?” Karl finished. Roger nodded, and with a shared laugh from Dan, Karl leaned in to kiss him.

The kiss was slow and unhurried, and as Roger’s body responded instinctively, Dan’s hand roamed with a daring touch that sent him into a gasp. Behind them, appreciative whistles broke out. The open display of desire both embarrassed and exhilarated him—if anything, it quickened his pulse. Karl, pausing just long enough to ask, “Still with us?” received a shaky, affirmative laugh from Roger. Dan then grinned

Roger’s breath caught as Karl’s gaze slid to the hot tub’s edge, where a lone figure waited.

“John,” Karl purred, raising a glass. “Come join us.”

Roger stiffened. In the steamy light, John Wilcox—once his kids’ strict physics teacher—now exuded a relaxed, dangerous allure in an open silk robe and with a knowing smirk. Though Roger had only seen him in brief, formal encounters before, today John’s gaze burned with an intensity he’d never noticed.

Dan chuckled low, his hand roaming Roger’s chest. “You wouldn’t interrupt; you’d add,” he teased. As Karl leaned in with a playful whisper, Roger’s mind screamed caution even as his body already answered John’s silent invitation.

“You coming in or not?” Roger murmured, voice husky with anticipation.

Discarding his robe with deliberate ease, John stepped into the bubbling water. The hot jets parted as he slid close, his broad hands finding Roger’s knees. “May I?” he asked in a low, intimate tone that drowned out the surrounding murmurs.

A single nod from Roger was all the permission needed. With measured intensity, John pressed Roger’s knees apart, his hands grazing hips and leaving embers on heated skin. “I’d always wondered about the man behind that buttoned-up façade,” John admitted, his words a promise of what was to come.

Their chests collided, mingling warmth and a heady, electric friction. John’s fingers roamed up Roger’s sides, cupping his face with unexpected tenderness before tilting it for a kiss. This wasn’t the tentative exploration of others—it was a consummate, passionate claim, the result of long-held desire.

John’s lips, methodical yet burning with urgency, pressed into Roger’s. A crisp scratch of beard and the intoxicating trail of whiskey and mint on his tongue deepened the kiss. Roger’s hands gripped John’s broad shoulders as their tongues tangled in a slow, deliberate dance of need.

“The ledge,” Karl suggested, gesturing to the smooth tiled edge. With careful, shared efforts, Roger was lifted onto the cool surface while the water continued to churn around them. Exposed yet safe, he lay back as John positioned himself between his parted knees, eyes blazing with an authority that once commanded a classroom and now claimed him entirely.

In that heated cocoon, every brush of skin and every lingering touch ignited a passion that was raw, inevitable, and all-consuming.

"Beautiful," John murmured, his large hands spreading across Roger's thighs, thumbs tracing small circles on the sensitive skin. "I've imagined this more times than I care to admit."

Roger swallowed hard, acutely aware of the other men watching—some with casual interest, others with undisguised arousal. Karl moved to sit beside him, a steadying hand on his shoulder, while Dan settled on his other side, fingers idly playing with Roger's hair.

"Relax," Dan whispered in his ear. "Let him show you what he can do."

John's beard tickled the inside of Roger's thighs as he lowered his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. Each touch of his lips sent electric currents racing up Roger's spine, making him tremble with anticipation. John took his time, lavishing attention on every inch of skin except where Roger most craved it, building the tension until Roger's hips shifted restlessly beneath his hands.

Roger moaned softly as John's tongue made first tentative contact with his cock, a delicate exploration that sent shivers up his spine and his breath hitching in his throat. The warmth of John's mouth wrapped around him, the weight of it making his knees weak. He could feel the difference between the rough alignment of teeth and the slick slide of John's tongue as he licked down the length of him. The sensations were intense, and Roger knew that any second, it would become unbearable.

John hummed around him, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Roger's core. He was sure that by this point, he was completely at John's mercy. His breath hitched as he felt one of John's hands grip his hip while the other began to stroke him enthusiastically, a rhythm that quickly had him panting and squirming. The tension built quickly, and Roger could feel his orgasm nearing faster with each passing second.

Karl and Dan stood behind him, their hands on his hips guiding him into John's waiting mouth. They had an air of intensity about them, watching intently as John's skilled mouth worked its way along the length of Roger's erection. They seemed to take charge almost instinctually, their hands gripping onto him more firmly as John's lips pulled back at the base, leaving only Roger's swollen head exposed. Their fingers dug into his flesh as they held him there, teasing him mercilessly before letting go just when he thought he couldn't take another moment of it.

Finally, Roger could hold back no longer as every inch of him seemed to ignite with pleasure all at once. He cried out in relief as he came hard against John's mouth, feeling his release wash over him like a tidal wave. John held on tightly to him, sucking and swallowing each pulse until it finally began to subside, allowing Roger to catch his breath and collapse against the hard body behind him.

As he basked in the afterglow of his orgasm, Roger couldn't help but take in the scene around him: John wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while looking incredibly pleased with himself; Karl and Dan exchanging a triumphant look over their shared conquest; and Roger himself, spent and still sated from their shared encounter.

"Your turn," Dan said, his voice dropping to a register that brooked no argument. He slid into the water with fluid grace, moving behind John with purpose. "You've had your fun making Roger fall apart. Now it's time someone did the same to you."

John's eyes widened slightly, his usual composure faltering as Karl joined Dan in the water, effectively trapping him between their bodies. The power dynamic shifted palpably, the commanding professor suddenly finding himself commanded.

"I—" John began, but Karl silenced him with a kiss that was more possession than affection, fingers tangling in John's damp hair to hold him in place.

"You've shown us what that mouth can do," Karl murmured against John's lips when he finally released him. "Now let's see what else you're good for."

Roger watched, still catching his breath, as Dan pressed himself against John's back, his hands sliding around to explore the broad expanse of John's chest. The professor's head fell back against Dan's shoulder, a groan escaping him as Dan's teeth grazed the sensitive juncture where neck met shoulder.

"He likes that," Karl observed with a wolfish grin, his hands joining Dan's in their exploration of John's body. "I wonder what else he likes."

The steam swirled around the three men, lending an otherworldly quality to their movements as they moved together in the churning water. John—always so controlled, so measured—was coming undone between them, his composure fracturing with each touch. Dan's hands dipped below the waterline, eliciting a sharp gasp from John that echoed in the night air.

"Beautiful," Roger murmured, his breath fogging up in front of his face as he watched Dan and Karl continue their masterful assault on John's senses. John—the commanding professor who had so thoroughly unraveled Roger just moments before—now found himself caught between these two skilled lovers, his usual composure dissolving with each deliberate touch.

"Look at him," Karl murmured, his fingers tracing the contours of John's chest, circling a nipple until it hardened beneath his touch. "Always so controlled in those faculty meetings. Who would have thought you'd come apart so beautifully for us?"

John's reply was lost in a groan as Dan's hand found him beneath the churning water, fingers encircling his considerable girth with firm assurance. Dan's chest pressed against John's broad back, his lips and teeth working the sensitive skin where neck met shoulder, leaving marks that would linger for days—visible reminders of this night.

"Christ," John gasped, his head falling back against Dan's shoulder, eyes half-closed in surrender. "That feels—"

"We know exactly how it feels," Karl interrupted, moving closer until John was completely sandwiched between them. The water lapped higher around their chests as Karl pressed his body against John's front, creating a delicious friction that drew another broken sound from the professor's lips.

Roger watched from his perch on the ledge, mesmerized by the tableau before him. His own recent pleasure left him languid and relaxed, yet the sight of John so entwined eith Dan and Karl—stirred something within him.

The party had thinned out, leaving only a few lingering conversations and occasional laughter drifting from the dim patio. The hot tub's earlier heat had mellowed into a gentle warmth against Roger’s skin as he sat on the deck wrapped in a towel, savoring the last of his drink.

Nearby, John pulled his robe back on in slow, unhurried movements. Catching Roger’s gaze, he raised an eyebrow.

“Still got some energy?” John teased.

Roger smirked, surprised by his own boldness. “Thinking of a nightcap. My place.”

John nodded, and they walked back together through the cool night air. Inside, Roger poured two drinks and handed one over. Settling on the couch, their conversation deepened—about the night, the past, and the unexpected, yet inevitable path that had brought them together. Roger admitted he’d spent years ignoring the life waiting right next door, and John simply squeezed his hand.

Sometime later—weeks or months, Roger couldn’t be sure—John moved in, gradually becoming an integral part of both the house and Roger’s life.

Then came the moment Roger had avoided: telling his kids. During dinner, he nervously announced, “I'm seeing someone—a man, actually someone you know.”

His daughter glanced up, half-amused, and his son started laughing. “Mr. Wilcox? You’re dating our high school physics teacher?”

His daughter added with a grin, “We thought he was a dork, but if you’re happy, Dad, we’re happy.”

Relief washed over Roger as he squeezed John’s hand under the table.

John leaned in quietly, “Funny, or fate?”

Roger laughed, shaking his head. Either way, he wasn’t running anymore.