Trampoline Exhibition for His Neighbor

Felix was twenty, short enough that the fence boards came nearly to his chin when he stood still, and thin enough that the afternoon light picked out the faint lines of his ribs. His skin was pale and almost hairless, a smooth stretch from his narrow chest down over a flat belly to the soft crease where his cock hung, thin and small, four inches even when it began to thicken. He had been showing that body to Rosa for weeks. She was thirty-eight, married, and she lived on the other side of the shared fence, and he had learned the hours when her husband’s truck was gone and the deck was hers alone.

He had found the trampoline on the marketplace the night before, a used one with a faded blue pad and springs that still answered when he pressed them. That morning he dragged it across his own grass and set the frame flush against the fence, so close the vinyl lip kissed the wood. From the mat, a hard bounce would lift him clear of the boards and into full view of her back deck. Emmett left for work before eight. Felix had watched the truck pull out and felt his pulse climb with the heat.

Now he waited naked beside the frame, cock stirring in the open air, pink and slender against his smooth belly. He did not cover it. The point was that she would see. A chair leg scraped beyond the fence. Something metallic clicked. Felix stepped onto the black mat, the surface giving under his slight weight, and bent his knees. The springs sang once, testing. He looked up at the strip of sky above the boards and jumped.

The first bounce was cautious. The second carried him higher. On the third his head and shoulders cleared the fence, then his chest, then the thin line of his cock, and for a bright second the whole of him hung in her view before the mat took him back down. He came up again, arms loose, and this time he held the height long enough to see her.

Rosa stood at the deck railing in a pale sundress, a glass of wine in one hand, the late light warm on her arms. She was curvaceous where he was spare, full through the hips and breasts, dark hair loose over one shoulder. She had stepped out at the exact moment his naked body rose into sight, and she did not go back inside. She set the glass on the railing for a breath, then picked it up again and sipped, eyes on him, unhurried and plain. Felix’s cock jumped and stood, thin and hard, all four inches lifted clear of his body as he came down and sprang again.

He bounced higher. Each rise put him fully above the fence: smooth chest, narrow hips, the small erection bobbing with the motion, balls drawn tight, thighs hairless and pale. He let his hand find himself at the top of a bounce and stroke once, quick and open, before gravity took him. The springs cried. He rose again and did it longer, fist sliding the short length of his cock while he hung in her sight, then dropped, then rose. His face was hot. He did not look away from her.

Rosa sipped her wine and watched without pretending otherwise. Her free hand drifted to the front of her sundress, then lower, and slipped beneath the hem. Felix saw the fabric shift over her wrist. She was touching herself while she looked at him, slow circles he could not quite see and did not need to. Their eyes locked on the next rise. She held his gaze and drank, mouth soft at the rim of the glass, and her hand kept moving under the dress. He stroked himself mid-air, frantic for the second he was up there, the thin shaft slick at the tip, and the sound he made was lost in the springs.

She admired him openly. He could see it in the way her attention traveled: his smooth, almost boyish chest, the lack of hair at his groin, the small hard cock he kept presenting on every bounce. She was not laughing. She was flushed, lips parted, weight shifted onto one hip so her hand could work more easily between her thighs. The wine caught the sun. She took another slow sip and let him see her fingers glisten when she drew them out for a moment, then slid them back under the sundress. Felix’s knees nearly failed him on the landing. He bounced harder, higher, stroking in those brief airborne seconds, offering her the whole shameless display he had built the afternoon around.

The tension pulled tight between the fence and the deck. She wanted this. He wanted her to want it. Emmett’s permission lived in the ease of her, in the way she did not hide, in the look she gave him that said she had done this kind of watching before and liked being watched in return. Felix rose again, cock in his fist, thin and leaking, and held her eyes until the mat yanked him down.

Rosa set the wine glass on the wide railing and crooked two fingers at him, a clear beckon. Felix did not hesitate. He bounced once more for the height, caught the top of the fence with both hands, and vaulted. The wood scraped his stomach. He dropped onto her deck on the far side, bare feet slapping the boards, and went to his knees in front of her before she had finished lifting the hem of her sundress.

“Yes,” she said, voice low and certain. “Right there. I want your mouth.”

She was wet already. He could smell her, warm and sharp in the afternoon, and when she spread her stance he pressed his face between her thighs and licked. She stood over him holding the wine in one hand, the other buried in his short hair, and he ate her with his whole attention: tongue flat along her cunt, then pointed at her clit, then pushing inside where she opened for him. She tasted salt and wine-warm skin. Her hips rolled, unashamed, grinding his mouth where she needed it. Felix moaned into her and gripped the backs of her thighs, thin arms flexing, and licked harder because she told him to with the pressure of her hand.

“God, look at you,” she said, breath hitching. “Smooth little body. Almost no hair on you. That thin cock of yours was bouncing for me like you couldn’t help it.” She sipped, swallowed, and laughed once, pleased. “Four inches and so hard. I watched every stroke. Keep your tongue right there. Yes. Like that.”

He obeyed. He sucked her clit and slid two fingers into her, curling them, and she rocked down onto his mouth until her thighs trembled against his ears. Wine sloshed softly in the glass. She did not spill it. She held his face to her cunt and used him, and he let her, eager, licking through every roll of her hips until she tugged his hair and stepped back.

“Up,” she said. “Bend me over. I want that little cock in me.”

Felix stood. She turned, set the wine safely aside, and bent over the railing, sundress bunched at her waist, ass full and bare in the sun. She looked back over her shoulder at his hairless chest, his narrow hips, the thin erection standing out from his smooth groin, and she spread her feet.

“Come on,” she said. “Fuck me. Short strokes. I want to feel how small you are and how desperate.”

He stepped in and pushed. His cock was thin enough that she took him easily, and short enough that he bottomed out in one quick motion, four inches buried to the root. The heat of her closed around him and he groaned, hands on her hips, and started to thrust. There was no long stroke in him. He fucked her in rapid, frantic little drives, hips snapping, the whole slight length of him sliding in and out, wet sounds sharp in the quiet yard. Her ass shook with each impact. He watched himself disappear into her and felt dizzy with it.

“That’s it,” Rosa moaned, gripping the railing. “Fast. Just like that. God, you’re so smooth against me. No hair scratching. Just that slim little body working. I liked you up in the air. I liked seeing that small cock hard for me while I touched myself. Emmett’s going to hear every detail later. Every bounce. How you stroked it where I could see. How you jumped the fence and got on your knees. How you’re fucking me right now with four thin inches and trying so hard.”

Felix thrust faster. The words went through him like heat. He was fully on display for her even now, pale back, hairless ass flexing, the small cock driving in short desperate strokes while she described him out loud. She pushed back to meet him, cunt gripping, and the railing creaked under her forearms.

“Harder,” she said. “Don’t you dare slow down. I want my husband to know I came on his neighbor’s little cock after he put on a show for me. Tell me you wanted me to watch.”

“I wanted you to watch,” Felix said, voice breaking. “I put it there so you’d see me. All of me. I wanted you looking at my cock.”

“I was looking.” She reached under herself and rubbed her clit, wine forgotten, sundress stuck to her sweat. “Smooth. Hairless. That pretty thin dick pounding me. Don’t stop. I’m close. Fill me when I say. I want it in me.”

He fucked her in a blur of short strokes, balls tapping her, thighs burning, the deck warm under his feet. Rosa’s moans rose and broke. She clenched around him, loud against the railing, climax rolling through her in hard pulses he could feel on every inch he had. “Now,” she gasped. “Now, Felix. Come in me.”

He drove in to the root and came, spilling into her in quick hot pulses, hips jerking, a thin cry caught in his throat. She kept rubbing, kept coming, voice open and unashamed so the yard held the sound of it, and he stayed buried until the last of him throbbed out inside her. His hands shook on her hips. Her cunt fluttered around his softening cock. For a few breaths neither of them moved except to breathe.

Rosa straightened slowly, turned, and kissed him. It was deep and unhurried, her mouth wine-sweet, her hand resting on the smooth plane of his chest. When she drew back she was flushed and smiling, satisfied, eyes clear.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “That was a perfect show. The trampoline, the bouncing, all of you up where I could see. I want it again whenever I choose. You go back over and keep bouncing naked for me. I’ll be on this deck with my wine. And next time Emmett will watch from the window. He’ll want to see what I saw.”

Felix nodded. He was spent, skin pink, cock wet and small against his thigh. She kissed him once more, brief, and tipped her chin toward the fence. He climbed it carefully, dropped onto the mat, and the springs gave a soft metallic sigh under his weight.

He bounced once, lower now, naked body rising just high enough for her deck. Rosa stood at the railing with her glass, watching, dress smoothed down, the corner of her mouth still curved. He landed. The yard went quiet. Springs settled. Neither of them spoke. A bird moved in the tree at the corner of the lot and then was still. Felix stood on the black mat with the heat on his shoulders, and Rosa sipped her wine, and the silence held between the fence and the deck, full and easy, already waiting for the next afternoon.