Meating The New Neighbors

Michael felt apprehensive about marrying Heather two months ago; for only one reason, she's a youthful 26 and he's 34. Otherwise, it was a precious gift from God. Putting aside the age difference, he was thrilled with their new life together. They were planning on a family, Heather would stop working, and, every morning in their new home out here in Michigan, Michael took one look at his gorgeous bride and felt like praying. Mrs. Michael Hawk made him proud.

Soon after they were married in their home town of St. Paul, Minnesota, Michael had accepted a position heading up an information systems department at a hospital in Michigan, and he managed to get Heather a part-time x-ray technician job there. They bought a luxurious estate, with a five-bedroom ranch home, in West Bloomfield, an exclusive and wealthy community in a suburb outside of metropolitan Detroit, although it was a bit of a commute from the hospital. 

Michael was a very handsome man, about 5'11" tall and 180 lbs. of well-toned muscles from his college years of playing lacrosse, with short, dark, almost-black hair and sparkling blue eyes. He looked much younger than his age. He came from a very wealthy family and had inherited several millions of dollars from his deceased parents. He worked because he wanted to, not because there was a need for the income.

Heather was a bleached blonde, with long, flowing hair, a charming smile, bright brown eyes, and plenty of curves. After years of botched romances (Michael was naive and often terribly clumsy about women), he got lucky with her. She often kidded him about how unsophisticated he was about sex, and poked fun about how mesmerized he was with her chest. But you would be too. When they passed out the breasts, she really got a quadruple helping. They're so big and rounded, and they sagged only a little with all the weight, yet they're still perky. Some days they look absolutely incredible. She wears bras that never seem to fit her right, and the flesh of her boobs pushes over the top of bra cups at her tops. She is somewhat modest about it. When they're intimate, Michael feels like a little boy, intimidated by her extra large bosom.

Their neighborhood out here was very quiet, too quiet when they first got there. They knew nobody here, and it has been hard to get acquainted with people. Her folks lived back in Minnesota in a modest middle-class neighborhood. So it was a relief when, a week ago, the extravagant estate, with the enormous English Tudor home, next door, which was vacant when they had moved in, was purchased. Michael didn't know who the new owner was but he did notice some very nice, jock-type guys in their early twenties move boxes and furniture in and set up housekeeping. Michael and his wife were thrilled to see the Ryder rental truck in the driveway on the day they moved in. Not long after, two of the four came over to meet the couple. 

It was a relief having neighbors, and people who actually were friendly. Michael and Heather said so when Tyler, the owner, introduced himself. He was breathtakingly handsome, 21 years old, a university student and jock, 6'4" tall and weighed about 195 lbs. of solid muscle, with long shoulder-length, light-blond hair and cobalt-blue eyes, a buff, hairy, wrestler's body, and an enormous crotch bulge in his sweat shorts. It was obvious that he wasn't wearing anything beneath them. His large cock and balls flopped around as he walked. He explained that he and his fiancée, a young woman named Tiffany, had purchased the home to be near his wealthy parents, who lived in the neighboring suburb of Bloomfield Hills, and his cousin Ryan, best friend Josh, and teammate Matt from the university's wrestling team, where he attended university in Ontario, Canada, where helping him for the next few weeks to settle in before Tiffany did the final move from their loft apartment in Canada.

Michael had heard about Tyler's parents from reading the local newspapers. They owned an international advertising agency, with offices in the United States, Canada, and Europe, and were very prominent in the community. They were reportedly worth several hundreds of millions of dollars. Tyler explained that his father ran the entire company from offices in the United States and his twin older brothers, Chandler and Christian, ran the offices in Canada and the United Kingdom, respectively. The "plan," according to Tyler, was that after he graduates from university he was to be groomed by his father to run the United States offices only when he retires, since they would then become an equal branch of the overall company with his brothers' offices in Canada and the United Kingdom.

Ryan, who was a tall, beefy, ex-hockey player at a university near Toronto, was the splitting image of Tyler, only with a short, military-style buzz-cut. You could tell they were related, only Tyler was by far much more handsome than his older cousin. Ryan explained that he no longer attended university but recently took his deceased father's place on the board of directors at the family's business in Detroit. He was in his early twenties. He would be staying with Tyler but in the large guesthouse above the old carriage house garage at the back of the property until he could find a place of his own.

Josh walked up and introduced himself along with Matt. Josh was so fucking hot! Michael noticed Heather staring at him, as he stood before them. He attended the same university Tyler did and was on the wrestling team with him. He explained how he and Tyler had grown up together as childhood buddies and were even closer than brothers. Coming from a family of attorneys, he planned on attending University of Michigan's Law School when he graduates from university. He was six-months younger than Tyler, looked like the all-American jock that he was at 6'2" tall and 190 lbs., with short light-brown hair, green eyes, a buff, smooth, hard-muscled body, and an obvious large crotch bulge in his shorts.

Matt attended the same university as Tyler and Josh and was a teammate of theirs, life guarding for the summer. They had met at university and became fast friends, according to Josh. He was studying for a Business major. Matt was 20 years old and a couple of inches shorter than Josh, with a very ripped, smooth body. He had short auburn hair and brown eyes, with a few boyish freckles on his nose and cheeks. He was a handsome man, but nowhere near Tyler, Josh or Ryan.

At last, other human beings Michael and Heather could talk to, who didn't hide inside their homes. They bought their new friends a bottle of champagne to welcome them to the neighborhood.

Michael could tell these young guys appreciated them, and Heather seemed to make a big impression on them. Tyler looked down at Michael while Heather was chatting with Josh and Ryan in the driveway earlier this past Wednesday and said very tactfully, "You're a lucky guy. Heather is very pretty." Michael thanked him, grateful for the compliment. Later, Heather told him that Josh and Ryan had joked with her and said it was too bad he had beaten them to it and grabbed her out of the pool of "babes."

This last Friday, Michael and Heather, worn out from the week, couldn't wait to leave work and were sitting on their deck around 7 p.m., still in their work clothes. Their new neighbors appeared to have gone away for this late June weekend, so they were worried they were back in the too quiet mode. Then, fortunately, they heard a car door slam next door and a masculine voice said, "Knock, knock!" They saw Tyler standing to their left near the side of their house, at his driveway. God, that blond stud looked like a fucking movie star! He was carrying a big bag from the liquor store and was pointing toward the fence separating their properties. They greeted him warmly, and he said, "Come on over for a drink. It's time for happy hour." 

His invitation was music to their ears. They ran inside and changed. Michael was ahead of Heather and, after throwing on some shorts and a polo shirt, ran in the kitchen and grabbed some wine from the fridge. He heard the sound of her laced Gucci knock-off raised heel sandals on the living room hardwood floor, and she came into the kitchen with a yellow tube top and a loose fitting, light red mini-skirt that went down to her mid-thighs, like a cheerleading uniform skirt. She sure looked incredible with bare shoulders and midriff, and her too die for overdeveloped breasts jutting out braless. Michael was still almost incredulous that she was his loving wife.

As Michael predicted, all four of the guys were very happy to see them, especially to see his sexy wife. They poked their heads through the door where the backyard fence met Tyler's house, and the jocks gave them a warm welcome. To their pleasant surprise, Tyler had a built-in pool and a hot tub. There were appreciative whistles from their new neighbor and his buddies, and applause, as the jocks looked Heather over. 

The jocks were very "cazh", in shorts only, and introduced Michael and Heather to Lemont and Reggie, two black studs, who were lifeguards that worked with Matt for the summer and did part-time personal training at a local gym. Lemont bore an amazing resemblance to a young Walter Payton. Reggie, to an intimidating bouncer retired from professional football. Tyler thanked the couple for the bottle of wine and handed them two healthy sized Margaritas. Michael begged off and asked for some white wine and Heather, who must have been thirsty, laughed and said to them, "I'll take his then!"

"All right, the lady's thirsty!" someone laughed.

A gas grill was sitting idle, with brats and burgers still wrapped from the store. "Does anyone know how to do this?" Tyler called out. 

Like an idiot, Michael said, "I'm an expert." Tyler put his arm around him and said, "Good, cause we don't know a thing about it. All we know around here is drinkin', the sports pages, and girls with real big racks."

Matt hollered, "And tonight definitely looks like a real big rack party!" That got everyone cheering and hooting. Michael didn't quite get his reference, but suspected Matt might be alluding to his wife, so Michael went along with it and grinned. Heather didn't seem bothered by it and took a healthy sip of her Margarita. Feeling at home, Michael fired up the grill. "Let's hear it for Michael!" someone yelled, and the older man was treated to a round of applause. Soon the preparation of potato salad and keeping the condiments and chips going were added to his responsibilities.

The atmosphere was "TGIF." The six jocks were very nice to Heather, Michael noticed, surrounding her at the picnic table. He was learning about her enjoyment of Margaritas; she was almost done with the second one after about half an hour. She was giggling as she sat on the picnic table, Tyler sitting to one side of her and Lemont to the other. She couldn't seem to take her eyes away from the blond Viking-like God. She was immediately taken with Tyler, giggling with him. Everyone was very nice to her and asked her all about the whirlwind romance and the Puerto Rico honeymoon that she and Michael had only a couple of months ago. As Michael unpacked all the food and set up the grill, he heard bits and pieces of the solicitous sounding questions all the young hunks were asking his bride. "Bikini or two piece?" Michael heard Josh ask, with a big grin. "Any topless beaches?" someone yelled, and that got a big laugh. It was really impressive to see young guys, unattached and apparent party animals, display such congeniality toward Heather and a genuine curiosity about their honeymoon, Michael thought. And they just couldn't stop focusing on her. Michael was totally flattered. His cooking duties sort of made him the fifth wheel, his being over at the grill and all the guys and his bride were at the picnic table about ten or fifteen feet away. To show how considerate they were, one or two guys made a point of coming over to talk to him from time to time while Michael worked away at the grill. But, understandably, even when they were over by him, their eyes almost always were on his cute, voluptuous wife. Michael thought they both were the hit of the evening, or rather, she was.