The Stud Across The Hall
sip himself.
    Again I thought to myself how much of a
shame it was that he was gay.
    We dusted off the first bottle in fifteen
minutes, making small talk the whole time. It was only after we
were halfway through the second bottle that I was ready to get down
to business.
    I turned to him and said, “Do you really
want to know what’s going on?”
    “ Absolutely,” he
replied.
    “ Okay,” I said. “But I’m
not going to hold back, okay? If I’m going to vent I need to do it
properly. Without any restraint.”
    “ That’s that whole point,”
Scott said, pouring me another glass of Cask 23. “Say whatever you
need to. I can handle it.”
    I took a long drink and readied myself to
bare my soul this man I’d only known for less than an hour.
Strangely, it didn’t seem awkward at all. Whether or not that was
because of the wine or not, I wasn’t sure. But it didn’t really
matter in the long run anyway. What was important was that I was
comfortable around him.
    “ Okay,” I said. “So here it
is. I’ve spent years looking for a man that can give me what I need
without any hint of success.”
    “ And what is it, exactly,
that you need?” Scott asked.
    “ Well, sometimes it’s just
a good, hard pounding,” I said. “Sometimes it’s more.”
    “ How much more?”
    “ It all depends on the
day,” I replied, “Some days I like it rough. Other days gentle.
Sometimes I like to be in charge, other times the submissive. What
I really need is someone who likes to get freaky in all sorts of
ways. Someone who like to fuck as much as I do, and who won’t get
all weirded out if things start to get extreme.”
    “ Do you mind if I speak
openly?” Scott asked.
    “ Please do,” I
said.
    “ Well, forgive me if this
is a little sudden, especially considering we’ve only just gotten
to know each other, but if you really mean what you just said, then
I’d like to offer up my services.”
    “ You?” I said,
shocked.
    “ Yeah,” Scott replied. “Why
not?”
    “ But I thought . . . I’d
heard you were—”
    “ Gay?”
    I nodded.
    “ Nah, I’m straight as a
two-by-four. And about the same size down there, too.”
    “ Noooo,” I said, drawing
out the word. I wasn’t sure what I was more surprised to hear, that
Scott was straight or that he was packing heat down
below.
    “ Yep,” he said. “Despite
what everyone around here thinks, I’m completely, one hundred
percent into women.” He leaned in as though sharing a secret.
Talking softly, almost in a whisper, he said: “Although I’m not
ashamed to admit that I don’t mind having my asshole played with
every once in a while, if the woman is into that sort of
thing.”
    My excitement was only matched by my
exasperation. For more than six months, here I was, living across
the hall from a super hot, mega-cool, incredibly sexy twenty-five
year old man who’d I’d never made a pass at because I thought he
was gay. But he was straight. And apparently was into the same kind
of freaky stuff I was. I didn’t know whether to be happy about what
was (hopefully) to come or annoyed that I’d wasted the last six
months of opportunity because of some stupid rumor I’d heard.
    “ So what do you say?” Scott
asked.
    I shook my head to help myself refocus. “I
say we give it a shot, see how it goes,” I replied, trying to keep
my cool, barely able to hide my excitement.
    “ How about if I get things
started,” he said.
    “ Be my guest,” I
replied.
    Smiling, Scott set his wine glass down, then
climbed off the couch, spread my legs apart, stepped in between
them, and dropped to his knees, his face at the same level as my
already soaking wet pussy.
    His gentle hands slid up the inside of my
legs, causing them to tingle. I let out a little gasp of pleasure
and tried to maintain my composure. I reached for my wine and
finished off the last of it while Scott undid the button on my
pants, then the zipper, then hooked his fingers around the
waistband and pulled

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