The Neighborly Thing to Do

*A story for/about a friend, hope I do your history justice*

*This is my retelling of an online friend's experience. The names and places have been changed to protect the guilty, and one or two embellishments have been thrown in. It is sexual in places, not as much in others. Not sure if I mean this to get people off solely, as I do intend with most of my other stories, but I hope it is sexual enough for the ones just hoping to get off and real enough to get my friends true experience across to those who care about such things. Either way, I hope you readers enjoy it.*

*****

-1997-

Riding a motorcycle in winter at 11:30 at night sucks rancid ass. Chris had to ride home after his shift at the cold storage plant about that time 5 nights a week and as the seasons changed and the weather got more and more bitter, Chris hated the ride home more and more. But, at least he had been able to keep this piece of crap Honda Nighthawk running for a while. It was down most of the summer and Chris had had to try and bum rides during his summer construction gig. He had managed to get the old '84 Nighthawk running before the semester started.

He loved to ride when the weather was nice. It always brought back one of the few fond memories he had from his childhood, riding with his dad and then his on his own on his first dirt bike, a CR250, through the hills outside of the little Montana town he grew up in. Now in his mid-20's, and feeling a helluva lot older than his actual years, it took him back to a simple and happy time.

Riding home with a bitter February wind numbing his face and cutting right through him, he hated the damn bike and yearned for anything with a closed cab and a windshield. But he toughed it out, because that's what you do. You tough shitty times out and don't bitch. The mantra played through his head almost the entire ride home every night, sometimes in his own voice but mostly in his father's voice, echoing in his head as the engine whined and the wind whipped.

Chris would cut the engine and coast up to the little duplex apartment he lived in, trying to be a good neighbor and not wake up everyone within 4 or 5 houses. He'd guide the bike over the driveway and across the dead lawn and around to the back of the building where his entrance was. He'd park it right in front of his door, running a thick chain through the wheel and around a light post to deter anyone with an idea of getting a free ride. It wasn't a horrible neighborhood, but close enough to the really shitty part of town that he kept what little he had locked up and out of sight as much as possible. The white trash meth heads in the little town are some sharp opportunists and know how to steal a rug from under a table without moving your dinner plate.

The houses immediately around his apartment were nice enough. A large 2 story home on the corner with about an 8 foot fence around on one side and a nice, smaller home, maybe two bedrooms, with a full basement that had been converted to an apartment on the other. The smaller home was close, probably only 15 feet or so from his with a chain link fence in between. His duplex apartment wasn't bad. It wasn't great either. 'Modest' is how a realtor would have probably described it. It was just essentially a remodeled house that someone had split down the middle to get two rents out of it. His apartment was on the side of the smaller house.

The adjoining apartment in the duplex was occupied by a single mom who must've started having kids at 16 or so, by Chris' estimate. She was barely 21 and had 4 kids, the oldest just starting school and the youngest still in diapers. Chris tried as best as he could to avoid her. She was cute and tried to flirt with Chris a time or two, but it was clear to Chris that she was on the hunt for a sugar daddy or at worst her next baby daddy. Chris knew nothing if not what trouble looked like and this girl would be a world of it if they ever hooked up, so despite the long drought he had been in sexually, he resisted the little red head's advances. He had rubbed out a few to her image in his head while in the shower, but had kept his distance in reality.

He had never seen much of his other neighbors, let alone talked to them. School all day and working loading rail cars on swing shift and Chris didn't use his place for much besides a shower and a bed. He knew the guy in the small house on his side of the apartment had a wife and a new baby and he worked graveyards. Chris would see him come home in the mornings as he left for class some days. Other than that, he kept to himself. Keeping things simple and keeping a low profile had become his mode of operation since enrolling in the trade school here a year ago.

After chaining up the bike, Chris would peel off his jacket as he walked through the front door and kick up the heat. He kept the tiny apartment freezing most of the time so the electricity did not get shut off. He had a running late fee but managed to send enough money in every month to keep the power company from just cutting him off completely. He'd kick up the setting on the crappy baseboard heaters long enough to take the chill off then back down it'd go. There was enough moonlight coming through the large window just outside the kitchen in the short hallway to the bedroom so Chris didn't bother with a light until he stepped into the bathroom to the left of the small galley kitchen the front door opened into. He'd take a quick but searing hot shower while the apartment heated up to get the frost of his nuts and then wrap up in a thick robe before heading to his bed.

Chris walked out of his small bathroom in his robe, through the kitchen, lowered the setting on the electric heater, shut off the light and was headed into his room when he something caught his eye through his window. The window in the short hallway did not have a curtain or blinds. Chris certainly could not afford such luxuries. He had put a blanket up on the hall window and the bedroom window when he moved in, but took the one down in the hallway after it turned cold and he needed every blanket he had.

He looked to his right and saw a figure in the window next door. It was the wife of the guy who worked nights. Chris had seen her only a couple of times coming and going in the neighborhood but never really paid a lot of attention to her. Now, seeing her in the window, Chris felt like he should rush past and just go in his room, but he stopped and played the peeping Tom from the safety of his apartment. Guilt creeped up a bit in Chris but it quickly left. It was becoming very obvious that this neighbor woman did not care about being seen. Chris stood on the edge of the window and peeked around at his neighbor.

She was standing in front of her living room window that faced nothing but Chris' duplex. She was topless, standing in front of the window in just some black panties. She was maybe in her early 30's, a bit of bbw, with crazy big tits. She was standing in front of her window, looking up towards the sky brightened by a nearly full moon wistfully, massaging her massive tits and stroking her silver dollar nipples. Chris instantly grew hard and instinctively stepped back a little, peeking around the edge of the window at the neighbor woman.

Her long black hair hung down over her shoulders and stopped a couple inches above the tits she was massaging with purpose. She was a pretty woman, not a classic beauty, although she probably turned more heads before the baby weight. She had dark skin and Chris thought she might be Hispanic or Native American, possibly.

Chris watched her rub her tits and nipples and his cock grew harder and harder. It had been almost 8 months since Chris had had any sex. He had hooked up with that one woman in her mid-30s who ran the bar his construction buddies hung out at a couple times last summer, but since then he had kept himself too busy. His schedule kept him hustling constantly, he had no social life, being older than the majority of students at the trade school that he attended and younger than most of his swing shift co-workers. Add in the fact that he had to scrimp and save every penny since he was paying for school himself and couldn't afford to take himself out, let alone a woman on a date, and he had pretty much become a celibate hermit at only 25 years old.

Those were the excuses he gave the couple of guys at work who gave him shit and told him he needed to get laid, but he avoided women and did not seek out companionship with the softer sex simply because he did not think he was worthy at this point in his life. The events of the last few months of Chris' life prior to going back to school had an effect on him he had not really worked through yet. But this sudden and unexpected peep show had Chris at full hardness in seconds and Chris could not help but reach down and stroke his erect cock.

The neighbor lady kept her gaze towards the sky or closed her eyes while she played with her tits. Eventually, she let one hand drift slowly towards her panties. Chris squeezed his cock, silently hoping she'd peel them off. Chris could just make out some black pubes at the waistband. His cock ached for release as he slowly stroked it.

Chris looked down at his raging hard on. This cock of his had been very good AND very bad for him. He knew early he was endowed more than the average guy. In the junior high and high school locker rooms, it was evident to Chris and his classmates that Chris had larger cock than pretty much anyone else in his class. It embarrassed him at first, but after Chris had a couple of girlfriends in high school and saw his first porn, he began to realize the benefits to packing around such a tool. It was his first girlfriend after high school that suggested he measure it. When it came in at 10 thick inches, Chris beamed with pride at the girl's reaction. Eventually, it led to him down a very different road he ever thought he'd go down.

In the now, he stroked his large cock in the dark of his apartment, watching this raven haired woman in the window and wanted nothing more than to step out and be brazen and let her see him. Wave her over and go unlock his door and let the woman come in and give her all she could handle. He was good at fucking. He knew that for truth. Not much else in this world had he attempted and not fucked up, but he could "throw a bone", as his former boss used to say.

The neighbor slid her hand fully down her panties and used her other to steady herself on the windowsill as she fingered herself. The motion of her hand under her black French cut panties and the sway of those big tits were all Chris could take. He pumped his cock with a death grip and at breakneck speed. Both of them were approaching orgasm and Chris grunted as his fist slid up and down his cock until he felt that release was imminent. He closed his eyes as he came, not thinking about his load and where it would go.

He heard it hit the window with a splat and his pleasure was interrupted with the thought "Fuck, that's going to be a pain to clean." He opened his eyes and saw the neighbor woman still with a hand down her underwear but she was looking right at him. The moment they made eye contact, the woman bolted away and an instant later the light was out and the house was dark.

Chris felt overwhelmed with anxiety. "Fucking shit!" he thought "If she calls the cops, or tells her old man, fuck. This is the last thing I fucking need!" Chris ran to the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel, trying to clean up his sizable load off his window and window frame. He made more of a streaky mess than he really cleaned anything, but at least it wasn't as blatantly obvious as before.

Chris ran the possibilities through his head a million times as he lie down to try and sleep. Good luck with that now! He finally decided there was nothing to be done about it right now and he'd just have to wait and see if she freaked out and her husband or the landlord or a cop came to talk him about it.

He finally drifted off to sleep, and it seemed to him he woke up to a buzzing alarm mere seconds later.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chris went through the next day like he had almost every day since he arrived in this little town to go to college and learn a trade and fulfill a promise. School all day, work all evening, rinse, repeat. This day he struggled with keeping stressful thoughts of a cop coming into a classroom and arresting him for spying on his neighbor. His logical brain would tell him all the reasons why that was so very unlikely to happen, but he couldn't help but imagine the scene and the shame of it if it actually occurred. By the end of the day Chris had pushed such thoughts out of his head, replaced by the usual stresses of his classwork and knowing he had to rush to work the moment his last class was done.

He had never wanted to continue his education. He was here now just to fulfill a promise from long ago. He left home right out of high school and went to the mecca of Seattle to be a part of the blossoming music scene. Chris arrived moments before bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam became the biggest acts in America and a host of others had great, if not Beatle-esque, success.

His dad, of course, was furious he was off to the big city to be a long haired fool. Chris could not have given less of a damn what his father thought at the time. They had not been very close ever really, but a huge gap had formed between them after Chris' mom died from an unexpected and unforeseen latent health condition when Chris was 11. Chris's teen years had been a blur of shouting matches that escalated into a full blown fist fight when Chris was a senior in high school. Chris would have gone and joined the circus rather than stay in Montana. There was no money for Chris to go to college and his grades did not suck, but Chris knew they were not enough to get decent scholarships. Rather than take out loans for school, he decided to head to Seattle and be the next David Lee Roth.

His rockstar dream went on hold pretty quickly, the band he joined after arriving playing a grand total of 2 gigs before imploding. He tried to get into other ones, but nothing ever stuck. He looked like a classic hard rock singer, tall and slender with a nice ass and long flowing hair and a decent voice that would mimic Roger Daltrey on a good day. But hard rock was fading in popularity and he was not 'grunge enough' and he just couldn't make it work. Band after band ended after no paying gig and he ended up working as a mechanic, a quick mart clerk, a fry cook and rag jockey at a car wash. Chris missed his chance to be a part of history by being born about 4 or 5 years too late and being raised in Montana instead of near the Puget Sound.

Things were not at all going as planned. He had not called his dad once and asked for help. He'd rather starve than give his old man any satisfaction in his failures. He had managed to avoid getting hooked on smack, which it seemed was as common as a rainy day in Seattle at the time. He partied plenty hard and snorted too much crank on occasion, but he wasn't hooked and he rationalized it by always saying at least he wasn't shooting up.

Chris bounced from crash pad to crash pad, girlfriend to girlfriend and job to job. Some lasted for a while and Chris would actually think things were looking up but then some bullshit would happen and a fight between him and his roommates or girlfriend or boss or all three would happen and Chris' temper would have him looking for another place to stay or work.

He was 'in between jobs' when he saw an ad that caught his eye. "Local producer looking for 'BIG' talent for an adult movie production. Do you have what it takes? Big swingers and willing woman only need apply!"

Chris stared at the ad and reread it what seemed like a hundred times, trying to figure out if it was legit. He had not seen this kind of ad in the Seattle paper before. This was at the early dawn of the internet and porn was still a video driven industry and amateur porn was almost nonexistent. That skater had that honeymoon tape leak but this was the pre Pam Anderson/Kardasian/Paris everyone has a sex tape time.

Chris looked at the eviction notice on the table and the sparse selection of other jobs in the paper and decided "Fuck it. Might be fun." Chris went to the address of the audition and it was a room in a very high end hotel near Downtown. Chris laughed despite his nervousness. He had no idea how this sort of thing would go. It was a fancy ass hotel, much nicer than Chris had ever stayed in by far. He walked up to the room the ad specified and knocked on the door. A very large tattooed man opened the door with a blunt "What?"

"I'm uh, here for the ad? I'm looking for a job?" Chris answered, thinking he was going to end up shot and on the front page of the paper back home.

"Come in" the massive doorman said.

Chris walked in and looked around. "Damn, this is bigger than any apartment I've ever lived in." he thought.

"Take out your cock." The scary man said.

"What?" Chris replied in shock.

"What the fuck kid, what did you think the interview would be? I don't give a fuck about your references, I need to see if you've got a big cock. Either show me you've got a big dick or get the fuck out." the giant man said with a clear disdain for Chris' naiveté.

Chris knew what the man had said made sense, he just thought, well, fuck. He didn't know what he thought this thing would be like he just knew he felt really weird showing his cock to a big biker looking guy in a hotel.

Chris looked around and hesitated. He could feel the irritation building in his host and took a deep breath and unzipped his jeans and lowered them enough to pull his soft cock out and let it flop out of the front of his jeans.

The man's eyebrows raised and he said "Ok, put it away." and walked past Chris towards a closed door. Chris figured it was the bathroom or a closet door but it opened up into a whole other room.

"Fuck, this place is a palace!" Chris thought. The door man leaned in, said something Chris could not catch to whomever was in the adjoining room them held the door open and motioned for Chris to go in.

"Mr. Calvin will see you now." He said, nodding for Chris to go in.

Chris walked in and there was man in a very nice suit sitting on a couch with three women and one other guy. The guy who was clearly in charge was dressed like a Wall Street banker and got up and shook Chris' hand. Chris expected an older guy, like a movie producer in the movies but this guy was probably only in his early 30's, about 10 years older than Chris.

The man in charge spoke at a speed Chris had previously thought only possible by auctioneers. "Hiya kid, come on in, Benny, get the kid a drink, wanna a drink kid? Benny, get him a Coke or something. So, Eddie says you've got a big cock, and I'm guessing you're here to be in fuck films, eh kid? Great, great, well kid, I gotta tell you, the first step is having a dick big enough but you've gotta be able to perform! Can you perform kid? Ya can't be getting stagefright and be all limp when the time comes to fuck for the camera! Know what I mean buddy? You gonna be able to perform...what did you say your name was?"

Chris stood there, unable to respond for a moment as he was processing what the guy said about one sentence behind where the guy actually was. Chris was also taking in the other people in the room. The guy was a dark haired, olive skinned guy, around Chris' age. The three women were young, early to mid 20s and (surprising to Chris) not lying around in lingerie or nude, just in jeans and skirts and shorts and t-shirts. The banker stood there staring at Chris until Chris finally came around.

"I didn't say yet. I'm Chris. And you're Mr. Calvin, I guess." Chris said.