Jorge

JORGE

My relationship with Jorge changed because of a bad decision. One of those decisions you make without thinking. Jorge has been my roommate for 7 months. That day I entered to close the window in his room, as I had done many times before. As I was about to leave, he entered the room. I saw him fold his cane, take off the sunglasses he always wore, and close the door. I observed how he placed them on the dresser, perfectly aligned with the other objects.

He stood still for a second, a couple of steps away from me. For the first time, I could see his lifeless eyes, moving without any purpose.

It was too late to greet him, to tell him I was just closing the window. Enough time had passed for the situation to be uncomfortable. I remained motionless, watching as he took off his sweater and folded it over his bed. He smoothed it out almost caressing it and placed it on the shelf of his closet. He did the same with his pants. Before folding his shirt, he smelled the armpit area. Something he repeated with his underwear and socks, inhaling more deeply. Indulging for a few seconds before putting them in a laundry basket.

I was surprised that he had a toned body. Unshaved. He had hair on his chest, emphasizing well-defined pectorals even more. The hair descended in a V shape to his pubic hair, coarse, surrounding a member clearly superior to mine. I wouldn't bring scissors near that area either in his situation, I thought. Naked, he approached the window. Damn, he was such a hassle, always the same with the window. I became nervous again; he was just a few centimeters away, but I preferred not to move. I could observe his body better; his legs were strong too. His strong, muscular butt and thighs made me look at my thin ones that didn't fill out my tracksuit pants. His legs had much more hair than the upper part. I wasn't surprised, as I had seen it all summer in shorts. However, the bush of hair he had between his buttocks caught my attention. He bent down to charge his phone and scratched himself, letting me catch a glimpse of a pink hole amongst all that hair.

I remained there motionless, trying not to let my breathing be heard. I would have to wait for him to fall asleep to be able to leave. He got into bed naked, only covered by a sheet. That big, thick, relaxed penis was perfectly outlined, resting on some thick balls. He heard a message on his phone. I couldn't tell what it said, but it was a female voice. He answered her, commenting on how good she smelled and that he was looking forward to seeing her the next day. While doing so, his hand went to his groin, adjusting himself over his thigh. I could have sworn it had grown just from hearing that audio. The bastard had a girlfriend, or at least a fling. At that moment, I realized that I didn't know anything about him. Where he worked and little else about his life. He was just another stranger with whom I shared expenses.

Fortunately, he didn't take long to fall asleep. I was able to go to my room and breathe normally. My heart was racing, and my head was spinning. I undressed, just as Jorge had done. Repeating his gestures. I surprised myself sniffing my underwear and socks. And I liked their smell. I still didn't understand why I hadn't greeted him. Why I had remained motionless, observing. Damn, you’re an idiot. Why the hell did you do that, man? I had no answer, but two days later, I did it again.

This time I got underneath the bed, like a little kid. It was extremely boring. I could only guess what he was doing and listen to what he was saying to that girl.

It took me a few more days to repeat it. I waited for him to get home for over an hour and then rushed to his room. This time I stood up. Between the window and the bed like the first time. He repeated everything like a ritual. He was just a few centimeters away again, and I noticed they smelled different that day. Much stronger. Listening to him talk to a friend, I understood the reason. He told him in great detail how good she was, how she kissed, how they had sex in the bathroom at work, how her pussy smelled, and how well she sucked him off. While doing this, he played with his almost erect penis. The moment he pulled back the skin and his glans was visible, a much stronger smell, a smell of sex, dry semen, and feminine fluids flooded the room and my nostrils. My cock also sprang to life. I didn’t touch myself; I was afraid he might hear me or that I would let out a moan. I could see how his cock kept getting bigger and harder. He no longer needed to hold it. It bounced slightly, wetting the hair around his navel with abundant pre-cum. As soon as he hung up the phone, he began to masturbate. With one hand, he smeared all that liquid over his thick, veiny shaft. The other hand tugged at his big balls and caressed his chest in a game where his legs moved in pleasure. I brought my hand to my rock-hard cock when I saw how that playful hand got wet on his glans and searched through that jungle of hair for his anus. He pressed it and twisted, arching in pure bliss. He came, biting the pillow in a beastly orgasm. He let out several streams of thick jizz. I don’t know how many, as his orgasm ended face down, coating his body and the sheets with cum. He cursed himself when he noticed the mess of cum covering his body. He cleaned himself as best he could with the sheet and threw it toward my side. I could feel that cum, now cold, on my bare foot, but I did not move. He fell asleep naked on the bed, without a sheet covering him. His penis took time to shrink. I observed his hard, toned body, and his wet hair matted where remnants of his climax remained. That excited me so much that when he finally fell asleep and I arrived at my room, I was still just as hard. I didn’t want to question why, but I ended up having to masturbate too. Twice in a row, as the first time was so quick that it didn’t satisfy my desire to cum. I also slept naked, but with cum spread over my body.

That became habitual again. Almost obsessive. There were days when I spent hours watching him sleep. How he moved in his dreams. His breathing, his small snores. How he would wake up and listen to a podcast. I watched everything.

Jorge masturbated three or four times a week. I, on the other hand, started doing it daily. More than once. I began to go into his room naked. After all, he couldn't see me. I would masturbate while he slept. Sometimes smelling his underwear, biting them to avoid making noise. My cum, much less than his, I would gather in my hand and rub it on my chest to leave no evidence.

Every night I spent more hours looking at him. I arrived exhausted for work from sleepless nights. I even arrived late more than once for watching his morning routine. I was fascinated by how he organized his clothes by color, matching them with good taste. I learned to see his appeal. I understood why that girl was so crazy about him. I became so obsessed that I wanted to know who that girl was.

I followed him to work. Carelessly, on the street it was impossible for him to notice that I was following him. When he arrived at the entrance of the workplace, a very attractive girl surprised him with a hug. He immediately sought her mouth and grabbed firmly at her butt with the hand that didn’t hold his cane. They weren’t very discreet, nor was I looking at them a couple of meters away with a foolish expression. She noticed and looked at me with disdain. Shit, I’m an idiot. What would I do if he took her home? I would be the weird, scruffy guy watching them kiss in the middle of the street.

I fell into a crisis. What was I doing? I was dedicating so much time to Jorge that my entire life was going to hell. I decided to break away for good. I told Jorge I was going to live with Ana, my girlfriend. He didn’t seem bothered. In reality, we only had a cordial relationship. His indifference upset me, to be honest. I had dedicated the last month of my life to observing him, to sniffing him while he slept, to masturbating while he slept, and to envying his huge cock and the orgasms that made him contort brutally. I had lived through the first arguments with his girlfriend, their reconciliations, and even the phone sex they had.

On my last day in the apartment, we decided to have dinner together, even though we didn't really know what to talk about. Before going to bed, he gave me a gift. A perfume. My perfume. The one I had used since I was 18 and that was hard for me to find in stores.

I had never told him what perfume I used. Had he asked Ana? I didn’t want to think about it any longer. I brushed my teeth and went to sleep. His door was slightly ajar.

It was the first night in 8 months that he didn’t close the door.

I hope you liked it. You can find my first novel, based on the story "The Noisy Neighbor," at the following links or available on "Kindle Unlimited":

https://www.amazon.es/dp/B091B3GNX9

https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B091B3GNX9

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B091B3GNX9