Though I had the house to myself that Friday night, the place still felt too small. Growing more restless, I moved from the living room to my bedroom, where the window was open and the local Top 40 radio station played at low volume.

Earlier that evening, Mom had stuck her head in my room. "Sawyer, I'm heading out," she said. "I won't be back till tomorrow morning."

She was having a girls' night out with several of her coworkers. They'd go to a bar in town, and rather than make the drive back home, Mom would end up crashing on a friend's couch. 

I looked up from the paperback horror novel I'd bought at the grocery store with my employee discount. "Have fun," I told her, "and stay out of trouble. I don't get paid till next week, so you can't count on me for bail money."

Mom giggled even while rolling her eyes. "Very funny. Are you planning to go out later?"

Seeing as how I was eighteen and had just graduated from high school, I should have been doing something other than hanging out in my room on a Friday evening. But I couldn't tell Mom the reason I was staying home.

So I simply said, "Yep. I'm kinda tired after working today."

She gave me a skeptical look. "You're too young to be talking like that. Wait till you're my age!" 

Mom must have realized that I'd had a falling out with my former best friend, Ben, because she didn't mention him. Instead, she suggested I go to a movie in town. "I'll give you money for the ticket and some popcorn."

I stared at her like she'd grown an extra appendage. "Mom, I'm not going to the movies by myself. Besides, I don't feel like it."

"Okay, okay." She held up her hands. "If you need to get in touch with me, leave a message on Lydia's answering machine. I'll be at her place later."

"I'll be fine," I promised. "Now stop worrying and go have a good time."

I was glad at least one of us had a social life. Mom deserved to go out and enjoy being single, especially after what Dad had put her through.

It had been two years since my father abruptly moved out. Mom was blindsided by the decision; she kept telling me Dad was having a mid-life crisis and he would come to his senses soon.

But I'd caught him in numerous lies, enough to make me suspect he was cheating. My suspicions were proved correct when he left town to start a new life with a much younger woman. His girlfriend was just five years older than me.

With the divorce now finalized, I guessed Mom would soon meet someone new. After all, she was still young, just shy of forty. And she was also gorgeous.

The thought of her dating made me uneasy for reasons I couldn't quite explain. Pushing the idea from my mind, I drifted to my bedroom window, which overlooked the backyard. The moon, almost full, cast its beam on the grass I'd recently mowed, but the woods bordering our property remained steeped in shadow.

We lived ten miles from town, in a rural part of the county. On one side of our house was a vacant wooded lot, and on the other side was a ranch-style dwelling owned by our neighbor, George. He was a widower in his early fifties, and he'd been a big help to Mom after Dad left.

A breeze drifted through the window, as if to invite me outside. I was humming along to "Everybody Wants to Rule the World," which played constantly on the radio during that summer of 1985. Rather than turn off the music, I switched off my bedside lamp instead. Then I headed out of my room and toward the back door.

Moments later, I was stretched out on the grass, trying to ignore the way it itched my bare arms and legs. I was in my usual summer outfit of shorts and a T-shirt, so I was practically a buffet for the mosquitoes.

But none of that was enough to make me retreat back inside. Closing my eyes, I smiled at the moonlight's glow seeping through my lowered lids. From here, I could just barely hear my radio playing; I recognized "Voices Carry" by 'Til Tuesday. Ben used to give me shit about liking that song.

The thought of Ben caused my smile to fade. It hurt to admit, even if only to myself, how much I missed him. Even worse was the knowledge that I drove him away. All it took was one stupid move on my part.

I hadn't heard from him in well over a month. Not since we skipped senior prom to spend the evening in his attic bedroom. We'd been goofing off, commiserating over how much high school sucked and how eager we were to graduate. It wasn't anywhere close to midnight when we started horsing around. While I was tall and lanky, Ben had a stockier build, and he always managed to pin me during our wrestling matches. As we grappled with each other that night, he brought his face close to mine, as if to taunt me.

And I lifted my head, craning my neck until it hurt, so I could kiss him.

Ben's reaction was instant: he released his hold on me so fast, someone would have thought my skin burned him.

I tried to play it off as a dumb joke. Pointing at his stricken face, I laughed and said, "That's one way to win!"

But Ben didn't laugh. Instead, he got really quiet. It wasn't long before the mood in his room grew unbearably tense. Each time I suggested we do something like watch TV or heat up a frozen pizza, he nixed the idea with just a few words. I finally told him I was heading home, and he made no attempt to stop me.

At school the following Monday, he went out of his way to avoid me. When I called his house, his mom always answered the phone. She wasn't nearly as friendly as she used to be while telling me Ben was busy. I was terrified he'd revealed to his parents what I'd done.

Just before we graduated, Ben started dating a really religious girl from our school. I figured he went to church with her and her family every Sunday. When his mom shopped at the store where I worked, she made a point to choose a different checkout lane so I wouldn't be the one to bag her groceries.

As I now lay in my backyard, a knot of shame formed along with the tears in my throat. Over and over again, I told myself that the kiss had meant nothing. It was stupid, like so many things guys my age did without thinking. 

But even as I wished I could erase that moment from the past, I kept replaying it in my mind. I kept remembering the warmth of Ben's lips on mine. And I repeatedly thought of how satisfying it felt to lie beneath him on his bed, with the weight of his body holding me down. 

Sometimes, I allowed myself to imagine that my former friend had returned the kiss. It was weird, the way that fantasy made me squeamish while getting my dick hard. Though I knew I shouldn't think of Ben that way, I often couldn't keep myself from doing so. All I had to do was imagine his tongue sliding into my mouth, and I was instantly ready to jerk off.

There was no one I could talk to about these secret feelings. It was painful enough to admit them to myself. During my shifts at the grocery store, while I was doing some monotonous task, I told myself I was just bored and horny, and that my sadness over losing Ben as a friend was getting all mixed up with hormonal urges. When my guilt bordered on overwhelming, I made myself study young women strolling the store aisles. I forced my gaze to move over their bodies, and as I did, I waited for that spark to ignite within me, the same spark that Ben set alight when he pinned me to his bed.

But it never did.

The darkness of my backyard was a comfort. Tonight, my familiar surroundings helped me stomach my loneliness, even as I assured myself that college in the fall would provide the change of scene I desperately needed.

I didn't stop my mind from returning to Ben. I didn't know if it was punishment or an attempt to ease my pain, but I readily pictured him naked. The image of him stroking his cock was so vivid that it was difficult to believe I'd never actually witnessed it. 

My own dick hardened in response to these forbidden fantasies. How would it feel for Ben to wrap his big, strong hand around my shaft? Would he be gentle or rough? 

My breaths came faster while my erection strained at my shorts. I opened my eyes and glanced around. Though I wasn't completely hidden due to the moon being almost full, I didn't have to worry about any traffic on our narrow, dead-end road at this time of night.

I looked over at George's house. Just one window held a faint glow. I figured my neighbor was probably watching TV before he turned in. Since he got up early to head to his job at the plant in town each morning, he didn't stay up too late.

Before I could lose my nerve, I moved to take out my cock. My fingers fumbled over the task, as if it was new to me. Of course, whipping it out while I was outside was a brand-new experience. There was something exhilarating about it, though. Something illicit, like those fantasies I entertained about Ben.

I took my time, my fingers lightly circling the shaft of my dick. At first, my touch was almost as faint as the breeze, and just as teasing. I was soon squirming in the grass while my cock twitched for more stimulation.

I fondled the head, and a moan escaped me when I skimmed the pad of my thumb over my slit. Convinced I wouldn't be spotted, I started thrusting my hips. I was so turned on that I didn't need to think about Ben; all it took was me playing with my dick, and cupping my balls with my other hand, and I was almost ready to shoot my load.

Just as my nuts drew up tight and I was practically panting from the need to come, I heard the sound of ice clinking in a glass. Such an innocent sound, one that never would have alarmed me under different circumstances. But now? Now, I realized I wasn't alone out here.

I snapped my head up and peered through the semi-darkness toward my neighbor's yard. As I tried to make out a human form on the back porch, I yanked down my shirt in a pathetic effort to hide my dick. 

The shadows made it difficult for me to tell one shape from another, but... fuck, George was sitting on his porch! All my arousal instantly vanished, but my dick remained stubbornly hard. My hands were shaking as I put away my cock. 

Scrambling to my feet, I tried to avoid looking over at George's house. I took long strides toward my back door; it was all I could do not to break into a run.

Maybe George hadn't seen anything. Even with the moonlight, it was still pretty dark. Maybe I hadn't humiliated myself in front of my neighbor—

"Wait just a minute, Sawyer."

George's voice, deep and even, made me freeze. Despite the warmth of the summer night, I shivered. Though I was nervous as hell, I took a moment to run my fingers through my dark curls. I reminded myself to breathe. 

Then I turned in the direction of George's house. He'd climbed to his feet, and as he now stood on the back porch, I wondered how I'd never detected his presence. He must have been out here the whole time. Yet he was so quiet, making no sound until I...

"Oh, hi, George!" I called. My own voice was shaky and high-pitched. "I didn't know you were out here."

I prayed he'd simply wish me a good night and let me slink into my house to wallow in my shame. Making his presence known was punishment enough, wasn't it? We didn't need to have a big discussion about my inappropriate behavior. Getting caught guaranteed I wouldn't do it again.

"Come over here," George told me in that same calm tone. 

I swallowed hard, then ducked my head as I trudged across my yard and onto George's property. Part of me wanted to blurt out an apology, but another part of me, a smarter part, resolved to keep quiet until I learned just how much trouble I was in.

Once I stood only a few feet from his bottom porch step, I worked up the nerve to lift my head. I saw that George was bare-chested and wearing a pair of jeans. His feet were bare as well. He was careful in placing his glass on a nearby table. 

He had always been kind to me and Mom. When our unfinished basement flooded for the first time ever this past spring, George helped us clean up the mess. Mom said she didn't know what we would have done without him. I remembered how he bent over backwards to make sure she had everything she needed. At the time, I worried he might be interested in her romantically. After all, there was nothing to stop them from seeing each other now that Dad was gone. 

But if George did have a thing for Mom, he kept that secret to himself. Even after she invited him over for dinner as a way of thanking him for all his help, he didn't make a move. Instead, he kept the conversation during that meal strictly neighborly. By the time he left, I was certain I didn't have a reason to be concerned.

And then I wondered why it bothered me to think of George and Mom dating. Sure, he was more than ten years her senior, but that didn't mean so much once people got into their forties and fifties. And I knew George would treat my mom well. He'd doted on his own wife, and after she passed away, a lot of the light disappeared from his eyes. He'd grieved over her for years.

Even now, he didn't date anyone, though I imagined plenty of older women would have loved to be the object of his affection. More than once, Mom had commented on how good-looking George was; she said his blue eyes were gorgeous. His wavy hair, mostly gray, was thinning a bit. While his body had gone a little soft, you could still see the strength in his build. I had no doubt the man could whip my ass if he ever had a mind to. 

But George wasn't like that. At least, I hoped not. Especially since he'd seen me jerking off in my backyard.

The silence stretched between us until I was ready to offer up that apology. Before I could, George spoke. 

"I didn't mean to, ah, interrupt what you were doing."

I was glad for the darkness, because my face burned with embarrassment. I could only imagine how red it looked. It was no use playing dumb and acting like I had no idea what George was talking about. That would only make the situation worse.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said in my most polite, respectful tone. "Mom's not home, and I honestly didn't think anyone was around. I... I just did something stupid."

George descended the few porch steps. Even though I wasn't afraid, I found myself backing up to put more space between us.

"There's no reason for you to apologize," he assured me. "You weren't doing anything wrong."

I stared at him in surprise, trying to make out his features. The shadows were deeper here, since a massive oak tree blocked out much of the moonlight. "I shouldn't have been doing it outside, though." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to kick myself. The man was willing to let me off the hook, and here I was, arguing with him!

George was just a few feet from me now. I could see his shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug. "You thought you were alone. Any other night, you probably would have been, but this evening, I've had trouble settling down, so I decided I'd come out here with a whiskey and enjoy the breeze. Nice night, isn't it?"

It was weird, discussing the weather when I'd just been caught masturbating. Still, I was quick to agree. "Real nice night."

"There's no need to be nervous," he said. 

How did he know I was still nervous? Maybe he could smell it on me. 

"And there's no need to be ashamed," George went on. "We all have urges; that's natural. In fact..." He lowered his hand, and I swore it lingered at his crotch. "That might be the reason I'm so unsettled tonight. Maybe I have urges I've been ignoring for too long."

His words made me start breathing faster again. More than that, it was his voice, which sounded as if it was coated with the very whiskey he'd been drinking. Something in me instantly responded, and I couldn't resist leaning closer. Yet I wasn't brave enough to speak.

"I know how it is, being all on your own," George said. "And I understand if that's the way you want it, Sawyer. But if you'd like someone to help you out, well, I'd be glad to."

My body realized his meaning before my mind did. While I was still puzzling over his offer, my dick grew hard in record time. 

"How... how would you help me out?" My question was almost a whimper.

George took another step toward me, and I didn't retreat.

"With my hands," he whispered. "And with my mouth." He was now so close that I could smell the liquor on his breath. "Would you like that?"

It was wrong, I told myself, to be so excited by the thought of my neighbor doing such things. With Ben, it was different. But this was George! George, a man thirty-five years older than me. A man whom I once worried would end up dating my mom. 

My cock had no such reservations. It was so stiff that it ached to be free of my clothes. "I'd like you to help me out, yes." I cringed at how stilted my reply sounded. God, why couldn't I be cool for once?

If my weirdness bothered George, he didn't let on. Instead, he sank to his knees before me. The sight made my eyes widen in shock. Were we really going to do this?

Tilting his head back, he whispered, "Take out your cock." 

It was strange, seeing him in such a submissive position. In my mind, he was an authority figure, a man I'd always respected.

I was quick to do as George said; in seconds, my erection sprang free. I stood there, unsure of what to do or say. My breaths were still coming too fast.

"Relax." George's breath drifted over my skin. "I just want to make you feel good."

He wrapped his warm fingers around my dick, his grasp gentle. I let out a shuddering sigh at that first touch. For once, I wished the moon was brighter, directly over us like a spotlight. I wanted to see George's face as he brought his mouth closer to my cockhead. I wanted to see him extend his tongue and...

My moan was so loud that it should have embarrassed me. Maybe it was best that I could only feel George licking my tip and getting me nice and wet. If I were to see him as well, I might make a fool of myself and come immediately. 

His lips traveled down my length, as if getting acquainted with every inch. I heard him inhale deeply to catch my scent. With his other hand, he cupped my sac, cradling my balls in his palm. 

The sensation of his tongue gliding along the underside of my shaft sent a tremor through me. I feared if I spoke, I'd say something idiotic, but I was dying to tell him just how good he was making me feel. 

I gasped when he took my tip between his lips. "God, yes!" I groaned. 

He hummed around me in response, and that humming continued as he worked his mouth farther down my dick. Fuck, he was soon sucking on half of it! 

Though the breeze hadn't let up, I'd broken into a sweat. George's hands and mouth worked in sync, striking up a natural rhythm that drove me crazy. He was the one on his knees, but I was completely at his mercy. 

My eyes rolled back in my head as he swallowed me down to the root. For just a few seconds, my dick was nestled in his throat, and I could feel his muscles constricting around me. 

"Holy shit!" I choked out. 

His gag reflex forced him to pull off, yet he went right back to work. As his head bobbed back and forth, it felt like he was desperate to suck every drop of cum out of me. All the while, his hand continued stroking. 

"Wait, I'm gonna...!" I could barely form the words to warn him. 

Again, George pulled back, and this time, he turned his attention to my balls. His lips and tongue were eager in sucking and licking my nuts. I couldn't believe how much pleasure I got from that stimulation. 

Just when I thought I'd regained a shred of self-control, George resumed sucking me off. Without thinking, I rested a hand on his head. He didn't seem to mind, so I left it there. I was panting and groaning, shaking all over.

"George!" I cried out his name, my voice filled with something like alarm. Oh shit, oh fuck, I was gonna come in his mouth. I couldn't stop it!

He took me faster, deeper, until my entire body grew almost painfully tense. Another tremor was followed by my hoarse shout, and then I let go.

I expected him to immediately pull away, but he stayed right where he was, with my dick in his mouth. My eyes again grew wide when it became obvious that George intended to swallow my cum.

"Oh my God," I groaned as my cock pulsed and my limbs twitched. 

Finally, George withdrew, only to give my tip several languid licks. He made a sound like he was getting a taste of his favorite ice cream. Still reeling, I allowed my head to fall back. I gazed up at the few stars not washed out by the moon's brightness. 

My neighbor was agile while climbing to his feet. I searched his face but made out little detail as he lifted a hand to wipe at his mouth. 

"That was so good," I told him. Putting away my dick, I felt traces of George's saliva all over it. "I mean, totally awesome. I've never come so hard!"

He chuckled at my praise. "I'm glad I was able to help you out. Now, you'd better head home and get some sleep. Don't you work most Saturdays?"

I did, normally leaving the house around six-thirty in the morning. Tomorrow, I'd work a full eight-hour shift. "Yes," I replied, "but..."

George paused on his way to the porch. Turning back to me, he said, "But what?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "I, uh, I didn't do anything to help you."

Maybe my eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough, or maybe I was just imagining it, but I swore I caught a glimpse of George's smile. He closed the small distance between us in just a couple of steps. Though he was only a little taller than me, it suddenly felt as if his presence dwarfed mine. I had no idea what he was going to do. Would he grab me and guide me to my knees? Would he urge me to suck his cock? 

George did none of those things. Instead, he lifted a hand and ruffled my hair. "Oh, you helped me plenty," he said in a low voice that made my dick jump. "But you can help me more some other time."

I quickly nodded my agreement. His fingers moved to my face, grazing my cheek. 

"Good night, Sawyer."

In a kind of daze, I watched him return to the porch and collect his glass. He moved deeper into the shadows that hugged the sides of his house. 

Then he slipped inside, leaving me alone.