Page 8 of Hot Neighbor Summer

I do.

And it's precisely because I do that I want to make sure we get this right. Bailey's been hurt and cheated on. We have to earn his trust and prove to him that we're men who will never,everdo anything like that to him, that we'll never hurt him.

I tap Stellan's arm, and he releases Bailey's cock with a loud plop, giving me a turn. I pump it up and down in my mouth. Just like the rest of him, it's the perfect size, and the salty remnants of his pre-cum mixed with Stellan's saliva make me want to free my own cock before it self-combusts.

But no. This is about Bailey.

I stop sucking and gently guide Bailey onto his back. His legs swing into the air. Stellan takes one leg as I grab hold of the other, and we both take a moment to appreciate the exquisite beauty of Bailey's smooth pink hole, gleaming in the sunshine.

We dive down together, and I nudge Stellan out of the way, knowing he'll start licking away like mad before I get to do the thing I like to start with. I press my nose against Bailey's taint and take in a long, hard whiff as I glide up and down, committing the hot scent of this part of his body to memory.

"You done?" Stellan teases with a soft smile.

"Only getting started," I murmur back, and with that, we descend on Bailey's ass, tongues flicking, fingers probing, reveling in the perfection of this moment. This already feels like more than sex. This is finding the piece of the Bailey-sized puzzle that's been missing all these years.

Stellan brings his fingers to Bailey's hole and stretches them wide, producing the sweetest little gape in our boy. He sticks his tongue into the opening, swirling it around as Bailey writhes in pleasure.

I reach up, take Bailey's dick in my hand, and begin stroking.

"Oh, god," he wails. "I'm so fucking close."

"Come for us." My words come out harsh and commanding.

Stellan stretches Bailey even wider as I cover Bailey's cock with my mouth mere seconds before it spasms and starts erupting.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

I slow my movements, my mouth suctioned over his dick to not let a precious drop spill out. Stellan eases back, too, and releases Bailey's beautiful hole from his grip, the pink pucker closing up.

Bailey sits up, eyes glazed. "That was… I have no words. Actually, there is one thing you could do to make this even more perfect."

"Name it," Stellan says, since I can't speak because I have Bailey's load in my mouth.

Bailey's eyes light up with that same mischievous glint he had right before he first instructed us to kiss.

"Kiss again," he whispers.

So we kiss again, and as I open my mouth, Bailey's cum spills out. Stellan hungrily licks it up as it drips down my chin, then swallows it down.

"Oh,goddd," Bailey moans. "This is the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."

And with that, his head sways from side to side, he rocks back and passes out.

* * *

I thought Stellan could sleep through everything, but Bailey, man, he is something else. He woke up a few seconds after passing out on the raft and has been drifting in and out of sleep ever since.

"Should we take him back to ours?" Stellan asks as we approach our houses.

I'm carrying Bailey in my arms, the warm press of his body against mine feeling so right, so damn perfect, I wish I never had to let him go.

"Let's go to his place," I suggest. "I'd hate for him to wake up and not know where he is."

"Good point."

Stellan opens the gate for me and then the back door which is thankfully unlocked. As we step inside Bailey's house for the first time—we didn't make it past the front door on our first visit courtesy of his creepy ex who made us want to not venture in—we're greeted by the scent of aged wood and lake air. The walls are paneled in rich, honey-colored pine, and a jumble of family photos and knick-knacks cover every available surface, from the weathered side table to the fireplace mantle. Not what I pictured his personal style to be like at all.

The floorboards groan under my feet as I take Bailey upstairs. Stellan opens the door at the end of the hallway, correctly guessing it's Bailey's bedroom. Inside, its charcoal gray walls contrast with a dark wooden bed frame and crisp white bedding. A single abstract painting hangs above the headboard, and a glass desk with a leather office chair sits near the window, offering a view of the lake. Now this is more what I pictured his style to be like.

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