by Neil Plakcy
Mike leaned forward, gripped me tightly around the waist, and slammed right into me. I cried out with pain. My hole was tight and at first resisted his anal assault, and he pulled out again. Mike ran his rough hands over my buttocks, massaging them. “Such a fuckin’ hot ass, stud. Such a nice hot ass,” he said. The massage relaxed me so I took a deep breath. Mike tried to insert his hot cock up my hole again. Maybe it was the massage or maybe it was the suntan oil dripping down my back and coating my asshole. Whatever the case, I managed to relax my hole so this time Mike’s big cock popped right through my sphincter.
I gritted my teeth as I felt Mike’s thick cock work its horny way up my hole. And I gasped when I felt Mike’s fat cockhead nudge against my prostate. Mike grunted hard and grabbed my shoulders as he plowed even farther up my hole. My cock was rock hard by now and I started to fist it wildly.
Mike continued to piston his cock in and out of my sore butt. I gasped in wonder at the incredible sensation of Mike pulling his cock out to just beneath his cockhead and then slam-dunking it in again until his big fat hairy balls were smashing against the root of my cock.
Mike continued to powerfuck me until finally he gasped, “Fuck! I gotta come. Fuckin’ now, stud!”
I felt Mike’s rough hands grab my waist. Mike screamed as he lunged one last time into my butt. My tight hole clenched around the root of Mike’s spasming cock as huge jets of sperm squirted out of him and hurtled up my asshole.
“Unngh, unngh,” I groaned. “Gonna shoot my wad, dude. Gonna fuckin’ shoot my wad!” Then a heavy fuck spasm shook my entire body. My hot, teeming cock erupted, squirting cum all over the floor.
Suddenly, Hank poked his head through the trees. “Hey, Mike!” he said. “Get your horny ass over here. We got work to do!”
With a lusty grin, Mike slapped me on the butt. “Hey, stud,” the swarthy roofer said. “Just want you to know something. Hank told me the minute he saw you he just had to fuck you. So I threw that hammer into the pool on purpose. He was so fuckin’ horny, I just told him: go for it, stud. Go get him.”
I grinned right back at him. “Thanks, Mike,” I said.
Mike dove into the pool and retrieved the hammer. He looked so gorgeous as the water dripped off his muscles. He didn’t even bother to dry off. But I figured the hot Florida sun would take care of that. He pulled on his cutoffs and sprinted out the door.
Now I was alone. But Hank and Mike’s manly smells still wafted lazily in the air. I looked on the ground and smiled. There was Hank’s jockstrap. I was more than happy to see he’d left it behind. I picked up the grimy, soiled jock and pressed it to my nose. The odor embedded in the pouch rushed up my nose, and I felt my cock rise and stiffen.
I started to whack off again as I thought about Hank and Mike. Maybe we’ll have another storm that’ll blow the fuckin’ roof right off the house. Yeah, anything to bring those two hot studs back here. I grinned as yet another hot load came gushing out of my hard cock.
GLORY DAYS
Laura Bacchi
A ren’t you getting too old for this shit?”
I knew that voice. My hammer stopped in mid-swing, and I turned to see Mack’s huge frame filling the doorway. He held a sagging box in his arms.
“Long time no see,” I mumbled and got back to work pounding in a tack strip before moving on to the next one. Yeah, it had been a long time, ten years at least. I waited for him to leave, but he stood there watching me—I could see him from the corner of my vision as I moved to the next wall.
“You lost?” I asked. But I didn’t turn completely around. Seeing him the first time had been enough of a shock to my system.
“Nope. Just admiring the view.” He lowered his voice. “I always liked you on all fours, Kenny.”
I pretended to ignore his little commentary, but my cock was listening. It perked up its ears and made a beeline for the waistband of my jeans. I swung the hammer, this time on my thumb.
He laughed and came into the room. I waited for his boot on my ass or some other reminder of the old days, but he walked past me to enter the monstrosity of a walk-in closet to the right.
This was supposed to be an easy job—just help a buddy with a remodel, install some carpet, that kind of thing. Knowing that Mack would be working so close made this anything but easy. My cock, now fully erect, throbbed in agony. I grabbed another strip and aimed. Hell, I’d even mash my thumb again if it’d keep my mind off Mack and his thick, hairy arms and the way his brown eyes were always looking for trouble.
I heard him drop his big box then whistle long and low. “Damn… A family of four could live in this closet.”
No argument there. The master bath alone was bigger than my apartment. He started checking things out, his heavy boots clomping through the closet and into the adjoining bathroom.
“They did good work in here,” he said.
Finally some conversation I could respond to. I got up and met him at the bathroom door on my side of the suite. “Yeah, Robert did the tile. His wife did the mural.”
He nodded his head in appreciation, then went back to the closet by way of the bathroom’s side door and shut it. I started to leave, but a noise caught my attention. It was his finger tapping on the door. In the mirror, one of his eyes stared back at me through the crack. He eased the door open wider and stuck his head through.
“Remind you of anything?”
His eyes were looking down now. I followed his gaze to where the antique doorknob would go once it arrived. I shook my head.
“You sure?” he asked.
Of course I remember, asshole. Like I could forget that night he did a little switcheroo in a bookstore called Glory Days downtown. I’d been hot for him for months. He knew it. We hooked up one night and I offered him my ass on the other side of the wall. Too bad he’d snuck two friends into his booth. They all had a go at me before I figured out what the hell was taking so long, the starting and the stopping, him laughing at the end. It was the start of a rocky eight-month relationship, if you could call it that. More like my sorry ass waiting for him to phone so we could meet, him fucking me hard in some alley across town then leaving me there while I caught my breath and tried to find the clothes he’d ripped off in his rush to be inside me.
I couldn’t move. Mostly because the racing of my heart told me I missed that. Missed him.
When I finally forced myself to leave, he slipped the handle of a screwdriver through the hole and wiggled it around. “You get bored,” he said, “you just put your finger through one of these holes, hear?”
“I’m not some stupid eighteen-year-old anymore.”
“You still look eighteen.”
“Fuck you, Mack.”
“Any time, Kenny.”
I went back to work. He unloaded his box, shuffled around and played with his measuring tape on the other side of the door. Then he started nailing something. The odor of cedar wafted through all the doorknob holes and gave me a headache. When he left that afternoon, I found some painter’s tape and a newspaper downstairs and used them to cover all the holes. I didn’t want to smell the cedar, and I didn’t want to catch sight of him.
I’d wasted enough time that day peeking every chance I got.
When he arrived the next morning, he didn’t say a word—he simply chuckled at my makeshift attempt to block the smell and the view. As he carried another massive box through my work area and into the closet, I watched his shadow and wondered if those muscles were still firm or if he’d gone soft like me. I shook my head. Mack and soft were two words that didn’t go together. Back to work, I told myself, mainly because I was hard again.
I cut strips of padding to size and began installing them. It was good padding—my knees were thankful as I stapled my way from one end of the room to the other then started on the next strip. I had a good rhythm going and was about to trim the excess around the perimeter when I heard the sound of paper being cut. I faced the closet’s double doors. A silver blade had stabbed throug
h one of my newspaper circles and was slipping around the interior of the hole in a slow, perfect arc.
The circle drifted to the floor. He bent down and eyeballed me through the hole. I gave him my back. He returned to nailing that obnoxious cedar, and I did a good job of ignoring him until I picked up on a different sound…the rhythmic movement of him pressing against the door. I couldn’t help but turn around.
“Jesus, Mack!” His cock, thicker than I remembered, had poked through the hole. I could see his fingers on the other side jacking hard at the base and a bubble of juice shining at the slit.
I got up and moved my toolbox and lunch from the direct line of fire, then frantically spread out yesterday’s remaining newspaper to catch his jizz—the padding I’d put down would soak it up like a sponge.
“Hey, Kenny…”
I made the mistake of looking up when I heard him call me in that husky voice of his. In that instant, he angled his prick up and let loose a pulse of white. I scrambled away to keep from getting hit in the face. My jeans weren’t so lucky.
“You’re a bastard, Mack. Robert’s gonna hear about this—”
“No, he’s not. You’re not gonna tell him. Hell, you’re probably hard as shit right about now.”
I shut my mouth because it was the truth. After washing his cum from my leg in the bathroom, I finished the underlay while his cheery whistling made my damning silence all the more humiliating.
No, Mack hadn’t gone soft at all.
The next morning, I got to the site early. Since the carpet was ready to roll I wanted to get it in place and be ready for whatever crap Mack had in store for me. I’d knee-kicked about half the room before he arrived.
“Pretty carpet,” he said.
I looked up. He was grinning.
And it’s going to stay that way, I wanted to tell him. I’d brought a boom box today to tune out his whistling, so I reached over and turned it up louder. No sense in waiting for the whistles. His deep baritone laugh gave the bass a run for its money. Once he shut the closet doors, I turned down the volume—I didn’t want to miss the telltale thumps of warning before he shot his load.
They started up before lunchtime.
I got up and casually walked to my toolbox. The plastic drop cloth inside opened up in a jiffy and after positioning it below both holes in the double doors—I didn’t want to leave anything to chance—I went back to my work and waited for him to pull out once he realized I’d screwed up his plans. The steady bumps of his meaty fingers against the wood kept their pace for a few more minutes, then stopped.
“You can come on the tarp. Hell, I’ll leave it out all week if you want.”
Mack pulled out. But he starting moving around—a body that big couldn’t keep silent no matter how hard it tried. He went into the bathroom. I pictured him cupping his thick cock until he shot into the toilet or wherever part of the room he chose to splatter. At least the tiles would clean up easy, and chances were I’d be the one doing the cleanup. My hand grabbed my own prick. As I stroked it outside of my jeans, I thought about that dick in my ass like it had been all those years ago.
I checked my watch. He’d grab lunch soon, and I’d go in the bathroom and jerk off—
“I prefer the carpet, Kenny.”
Shit! I spun around to find him at the side bathroom door, yanking away while standing over the pristine carpet. He aimed straight for the middle of the room, his prick ready to blow any second now. I’d never crawled so fucking fast in my life. I could probably clean it up, but it was the principle of the thing…I lunged for where I thought the load would land and took it right in the face.
“You sonofabitch!”
I charged him, but he pulled the door closed and held it shut. I was no match for him, but I shoved into it anyway, then banged my head against it in frustration. The bastard grabbed my T-shirt through the hole and tugged.
“What do you want from me, man?” I asked between gritted teeth. “You wanna fuck, is that it?”
He pulled my shirt harder, until my hard-on slammed into the wood. But he didn’t answer.
“Thing is, Mack, I can’t tell if you wanna fuck my body or my mind. I don’t play games anymore.” His words from the other day came back to me. “I’m too old for that shit. And you are too.”
He pushed the door open again, my shirt still in his fist on the other side of the hole. A muscle in his cheek began to tic. He looked at the cum on my face, then scraped it off with a finger and held it up to my lips.
I shook my head, half out of fear, because no matter how safe I’d been in the past—since giving up on him—I wasn’t so sure I could refuse. And I hated myself for even thinking about opening up to taste it. To suck every drop from his hairy knuckle.
Thank God he didn’t press me and wiped it on his jeans instead. Then he let go of me and gave the door a small push. It wasn’t mean or angry, just unexpected, and it sent me sprawling backward. I stumbled to regain my footing but failed and crashed into the plush pile below. He stepped toward me, his zipper still down, his cock still throbbing and ready for more. It was only natural for me to part my tangled legs for him. He dropped to his knees. I didn’t move, not my eyes, not my lungs—I lay there frozen and waiting.
He squeezed my thigh and let all his weight down on one palm. When he moved his hand higher, toward my balls and cock, I knew it would hurt. At least a little. But he eased up a bit and gently cupped the erection that was burning the flesh inside my briefs like a fucking brand. He popped the snap and undid my fly. I worked my jeans down and he lay down on me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All I could do was want.
“Where the hell did you go?” he asked. “I looked for you for months.”
“I…” I didn’t know what to say. His revelation hit me in the gut first. Then it reached up and grabbed my heart and held it in a vise. “I had no idea you’d even care,” I finally choked out.
He opened his mouth to reply when someone started up the stairs. Mack rolled off me, taking his heat with him, and disappeared into the bathroom. I had enough sense to zip up and get to my feet.
“Rob ordered pizza for us,” some new guy yelled. “Beer, too. Come on down.” He headed back downstairs, but the moment was lost.
Mack reappeared, all zipped up but still hard. “You want pizza?” he asked.
No, I didn’t. I didn’t want anything but him on me. In me. And the look on his face told me he knew this. I shook my head.
“Me either. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer. The stairs groaned under his weight as he half-walked, half-ran downstairs. I followed him out to his Ford pickup. It was as massive as he was. When I climbed inside, I sucked in the scent of the interior, of him after a hot day on the job. He hit the gas and put his hand on my thigh, his fingertips pushing down to the bone. When I closed my eyes to the sweet pain, he must’ve been watching. Must’ve thought it hurt too much. He loosened his grip.
“It’s okay,” I told him, but he didn’t go deep again. So I leaned over. Put my mouth on his neck. I licked him and grabbed the bulge at his crotch. The heel of my palm pressed into the outline of his cockhead.
“Jesus, Kenny.”
He eased off the road and drove up a dirt path. At the top of the hill, in a clearing, was another big-ass house newly framed. I figured we’d fuck in the truck, but he got out. I had to walk twice as fast to keep up.
“Nice. You work here, too?” I asked.
“No. This is my place. You like it?”
“It’s huge.”
“I know it is, but do you like it?”
“What’s not to like? Lots of trees. Two stories and, what, about three thousand square feet?”
He nodded and pointed to the makeshift cinderblock steps to the entrance. I climbed up into what would be the foyer, Mack beside me now, his strong hand pulling me this way and that to give me a tour.
“And this is the master bedroom.”
We st
ood in the middle of the room, our bodies close but not touching while I pictured a big waterbed on the far wall and a small army of guys like me on it, doing whatever he asked.
He touched my arm, and the vision evaporated. “See my tub?” he asked.
How could I miss it? I guess a body like his needed one that large. It hadn’t been put into the bathroom wall yet. We walked over to it and he scooped out some stray curls of wood and sawdust. Then he started to unbutton his plaid flannel shirt.
“Get in,” he said.
“In the tub?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s no water.”
My heart kicked against my ribs. I was stalling, and he knew it. He rolled his eyes at me, smiled, and reached for his fly. I unlaced my boots but didn’t take anything else off. When I stepped into the tub, it rocked until I sat down then rocked again as he joined me, completely naked. My shirt didn’t last long. Neither did my other clothes. His fingers found my nipples and balls, and his mouth met mine. I pulled back. He’d never kissed me before. God knows I’d wanted him to.
He caught my face between his giant hands and kissed me again. This time I didn’t back away even if I could have, he tasted so fucking right. I sucked his tongue and let his beard burn my skin. I needed to grab hold of something—his shoulders, the rim of porcelain behind me—anything to anchor me and keep me still while he scraped into my hips with ragged fingernails or bit on my lip.
My sweaty back slid against the cool surface and Mack let me go. Even kneeling, he towered over me, his cock throbbing, dripping, ready to explode. His knee dragged over my chest to pin my arms to my sides.
“You want this, Kenny?”
He was asking? Mack wasn’t the asking type, so the least I could do was answer.
“Yeah, but…”
I didn’t have to spell it out for him and when his arm went over the tub in search of the jeans he’d discarded, I held my breath, not quite believing how much he’d changed. But to watch him tear the foil and roll the rubber down the length of his thick shaft made me start breathing again. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful. Some of his dark chest hair had faded to gray. I reached up to run my fingers through it.