The next door neighbour

Mr. Robinson's ass.

He had always been Mr. Robinson, even though he was only six years Jason's senior. When the muscle bound man had moved in his mother had talked about "That nice Mr. Robinson next door," no matter how often he said "Please, call me Christoper." When a then fourteen year old Jason had seen the man's broad chest dark stubble and nipples that were visible through the man's black tank top, he'd had to go very quietly to his room, where he stroked himself to his first wet orgasm.

Now, after five years of watching the man work or work out in his yard, Jason knew almost all there was to know about the man's body. He knew that Mr Robinson had a light dusting of hair on his belly that trailed from his navel to the waistband of the tight shorts or faded jeans the man always wore. He knew the man always wore a jockstrap - a particularly old and slightly ripped pair of athletic shorts had given Jason a glimpse of a tattered black strap. He knew from conversation that Mr. Robinson shaved every morning, but always had a slight amount of sexy regrowth by the end of the day. He knew Mr. Robinson didn't have a girlfriend. He knew Mr. Robinson had worked as a model. He could hear Mr. Robinson right now pushing a push mower around his back yard next door...