Nipple Friction Fiction
A titillating story of exhibitionism..
🕑 Added 2021-10-01 04:01:22 +0000 UTC
Nipple Friction Fiction
A titillating story of exhibitionism and voyeurism as two men engage in an erotic interplay of pectorals, nipples, pleasure and satisfaction.
The Neighbor
Exhibitionist? Perhaps, but I didn’t know him that well. If he wasn’t knowingly an exhibitionist I was certainly a willing voyeur. His name was Tony and he lived across the alley from me. I frequently saw him from my rear window going about his daily routine. And in the summer part of that routine was regular workouts in his garage, door open and in my clear view – though I seriously doubted he knew that given some of the things I saw him do while we were neighbors.
He was a nice guy, a little serious. We’d occasionally chat if we were in the alley at the same time taking out the trash or doing yard work. He was single, good looking and square jawed. He had a physique that was expertly built, with a powerful chest and a nicely tapered, lean and hard midsection. I tried not to stare at his chest but couldn’t help at least glance at it especially when he was wearing a form fitting t-shirt. I imagine he was accustomed to people looking at him, checking out his physique. Tony commanded attention – he was that kind of guy. None the less, I tried not to be obvious with my glances at his chest when we were talking face to face. But his broad pecs were like a fantasy come true to me and not only because of their impressive size and shape. He also had the most magnificent pair of nipples, large in diameter and protruding enough so that they were impossible for me not to notice through his shirts. Their position on his pecs was a little unusual. They were positioned farther apart than most men’s nipples. They were poised toward the outside of each pectoral so that even from a full frontal view of his chest his nipples were in semi-profile. If he ever worked his own there was no way he could reach them both with one hand as I often do with my own. His were clearly a two handed job, one hand for each nipple.
One particularly hot summer day I had a one in a million opportunity to see Tony up close. He had been doing work on his garage, and though he ordinarily didn’t go shirtless outside, that day he decided to strip it off, the ninety degree weather being more than he could bear. I had just parked my car in back and was within ear shot. “Hey Tony, how’s it going?” He looked over and nodded in my direction, and put down the step ladder he was setting up. “Hey man, can you give me a hand?” he asked. Whoa I thought – you bet I can! “What can I do for ya Tony?” “I just need you to hand me a couple of things while I fix this gutter. It’ll just take a few minutes.” For the next ten minutes I was in virtual paradise. Tony stood there right in front of me elevated about two feet on the step ladder reaching for the gutter. As he asked I handed him tools and hardware. His big arms were raised up above his head and his massive chest and huge nipples were practically in my face! He was focused on his work so I took advantage and gazed the spectacle of his sweat drenched rippling musculature and the details of his brown delectable nipple flesh. As he reached up overhead the skin of his chest stretched as did the flesh of his areolas. They sort of creased slightly as his nipples stretched from their usual circular shape to oval. The aureole flesh was fairly smooth except for a ring a tiny, evenly spaced bumps around their perimeter. They were medium brown with a hint of pink which became more prominent toward the nipple heads. The nipple heads themselves were beautiful half inch protrusions of what must have been magnificently sensitive flesh if their slightly crenulated and pinker appearance was any indication. I burned the images into my memory knowing this opportunity may not come again. “Can you hand me the screw driver man?” “Huh – oh yeah. Here ya go.” I felt embarrassed. Had he noticed my voyeurism? I hoped he wouldn’t notice the growing swell in my pants. I mean he was straight, right? At least that’s what I had always thought. But I wonder if the circumstances were…. “Ok, we’re all done. Thanks man.” And that was that. I thanked him too, took a deep breath, and went inside. I’d have lit up if I smoked. But I didn’t and had a cold one instead. Damn!
In the weeks that followed I would see Tony working out in his garage from my rear window as I had before. But now I fantasized about being there, up close. He really wasn’t all that far away though. I could see him clearly. But knowing how he looked from just a foot or so away from my face made the experience of watching him workout more enticing, more erotic.
Ordinarily Tony would do his workout, which included lots of chest work, then put his equipment away, and close the garage door from inside. I’m not sure what he was doing but usually he wouldn’t emerge from the garage for half an hour or so after that. Then one day that routine changed in a surprising way.
Tony was always into his routine. I never saw him workout with anything other than a laser focus. The bench presses were always impressive. I loved seeing him do incline dumbbell flies too. It was awesome to see him strain against those huge weights, every fiber in his bare torso struggling with the burden he’d decided to challenge himself with that day. He finished his routine and dragged the bench to the side of the garage and put away the plates and bars. And that’s when I expected to see him once again stretch overhead to reach the garage door handle and pull it down. But he didn’t. The door stayed wide open. He paced in the garage for a minute and shook his arms and rolled his shoulders to loosen up. When he stopped he seemed to be starring at the wall. And with a grace that is uniquely masculine he began to pose. First was the double bicep. Awesome! I was seeing him from a quarter angle and the wall he was looking at was out of my view. But it soon became apparent that he was looking into a mirror. I had had no idea he was a competitive bodybuilder. But this made sense. He must be preparing for a contest. Tony stopped and grabbed a bottle of oil from a space just out of my view, obscured by the frame of the open garage door. He applied the oil to his arms and legs rather quickly. And when he began to apply the oil to his torso he did so quickly as well – until he got to his chest. The first few rubs of oil across his broad chest and ever-erect nipples went quickly. But then he stopped for a second, his brow furrowed a bit. He had an expression on his face of a person who had just discovered something – something surprising, something altogether intriguing. He resumed oiling his chest. But now he seemed to avoid his nipples, doing so carefully. Tony squeezed more oil into his palms and paused, looking at himself in the mirror. I could see his eyes leveled at the reflection of his own pecs and nipples, his eyes glancing from left to right and back again, his lips slightly parted as he inhaled deeply and lifted his oily hands. When his palms met his chest they were positioned directly over his manly erect nipple flesh. Tony rubbed the oil onto his chest and nipples in a deliberate and slow circular motion. He seemed to wince but I knew it wasn’t pain he was experiencing. His eyes closed and his head dropped back as he continued to massage the oil over his sensitive nipples. He was lost in the experience, as was I! I was rock hard and working my own nipples as well, witness to the birth of a fellow chestman and nipple worshipper as he rubbed his nipples for the first time, breathing deeply as he did so. At least a minute had passed before Tony snapped out of his self induced trance. He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head a few times as if to try to wake up. After that the garage door came down. I closed my curtains and got my own oil and looked at a dvd. After that a cold one wasn’t going to do.
Over the next couple of weeks Tony continued to train hard. Each workouts was followed by a posing routine. Each posing routine included a session of oiling. And each oiling included at least a brief attention to the profound pleasure Tony experienced rubbing his own nipples. Perhaps he enjoyed longer sessions in the privacy of his own bedroom. I could only speculate and hope he was giving them the full attention they deserved. But for now a cursory, brief stimulation was all he was going to do with his garage door open. But whereas before Tony would study the form of his posing from head to toe I could now see his gaze almost always at nipple level, glancing left and right and back again. He was absorbed by the new capacity for pleasure he had discovered and the parts of his body that made such pleasure possible.
August is always hot. But this August day was especially hot. Tony was getting close to the contest date and looking super human. His workout complete he posed and oiled as I watched from just inside my rear window. He had reached my favorite part and was rolling his palms over his outer pecs when a loud crash from the ground beneath my window startled both of us. I moved aside but perhaps not quickly enough. I was bare chested with both hands on my nipples when the noise made Tony turn his head sharply in my direction. I saw him look toward my window. Did he see me? My heart was pounding. I was nervous as hell. The neighbors cat ran off leaving a broken flower pot in it’s wake – and two men rudely interrupted.
A few days passed and I was parking my car in back. “Hi, how are you?” Tony was in his garage putting away his lawn mower. The thick smell of freshly cut grass filled the air. Tony was hot and sweaty. His t-shirt was almost transparent because of the perspiration. It clung to him as if it were painted on. He looked hot as hell. “I’m ok. How are you?” I was both nervous and getting aroused. We hadn’t seen each other or talked since the day of the damn cat. (continued...)
