Winter Heat

I saw him in the breezeway, the open hall between the apartment buildings. My not-so-new neighbor. Been keeping an eye on him for a couple of months. He has a girlfriend, but nothing committed, and we flirt casually. He’s cute – six-three, so he’s tall, but it’s not string-bean tall. He has a lot of muscle. His hair is blackish brown, brushes his collar, and he keeps his facial hair neatly trimmed. Catty whiskers. They make me want to chew on his jaw. He has the greatest mouth – all pout. Dark eyes. There’s Italian in there somewhere, or I’ll eat my hat.

I’d passed his girl in the parking lot, I realized, as she had hurried to her car. And there was Jason, leaning against the wall like he’d been sucker-punched, dark hair in his face.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“She dumped me,” he said, sounding breathless. Sucker-punch, indeed.

“Come in. I’ll get you a drink.”

He hesitated.

“Come on. It’s too damn cold to be standing out here in that,” I nodded to his outfit, which consisted of a pair of sweat pants, an old gym tee, and no shoes. “And if you insist, I won’t push booze on you. You can have hot cider.”

Jason agreed, though he let me spike the cider with some rum. And by the time I got it to him, he’d spilled the whole story. One last night of passion, then she comes by the next day, while he’s still sleeping it off, and drops him like a hot potato. So unfair.

Nothing to do but comfort him the old-fashioned way. Oh, come on, how was I supposed to resist? He looked too good. And he wasn’t exactly saying no when I climbed into his lap and kissed him.

I slid down between his knees, him in his ratty old duds, me in my slick professional sweater and skirt combo. He put a hand in my hair as I tugged his pants down. His cock was surprisingly thick, and surrounded by glorious dark hair. I breathed in the scent of him, savoring it, then slid my mouth steadily down his length, engulfing him almost to the bottom.