by Neil Plakcy
Wyatt moaned in response, the sooty fingers of one hand raking my scalp. “Hot fucker! Damn, you’re good…”
I grunted a breathless swear up into his hairy knot in agreement.
“…the best!”
He yanked his asshole off my lips and resumed plundering my mouth. A glop of precome dribbled down my chin. He leaked rivers, nectar of the gods. I sucked his dick, ogled his nuts, massaged a hairy calf with the hand that should have been trying to free my own dick from solitary confinement.
As if reading my thoughts, Wyatt grabbed hold of my shirt collar and shoved me onto the sofa. He tugged at my pants. A seam tore. Soon, the only stitches of clothing between the two of us were socks and Wyatt’s baseball cap. A gust of cool air teased my naked butt. Fingers pried cheeks open, and the next breeze across my flesh was hot, rabid.
“Oh, fuck,” I grunted. He wasn’t planning to—
But Wyatt did.
His tongue explored my hole with even more hunger than I’d shown his. He didn’t touch my dick; he didn’t have to. Then his weight upon my back, the pressure-filled thrusts, each equal parts pain and pleasure, forced my erection into the sofa cushion. Bent over the arm in much the same position as I’d imagined us in not long before, I felt the drag and slap of his swollen balls against my backside, was mystified by their cadence; his warm breath, now puffing at my ear; the prickle of his unshaved face on my neck. That voice! So easy on the ears, the brain. The brain, biggest sex organ of them all…
“I said it’s not that big.”
I blinked myself out of the trance. Wyatt stood holding the clipboard and pen. T-shirt covering his chest. Denim over dick. Work boots on feet.
“Huh?” I asked, dazed.
“The job. It’s a day’s work. But it’s not going to be cheap to replace that flue, get some proper cement up there on your chimney, and bring you up to code. You’re looking at twelve hundred bucks. And this is a tight time of the year for me. End of summer, with it getting cold out. Every sweep and mason in this part of the world is booked solid through Christmas.”
I barely heard Wyatt’s words. The effect of the powerful day-dream, which had pushed my cock out of its stupor and into the biggest erection I could remember having since puberty, trumped any bad news about this latest in an endless succession of repair jobs. My creativity, incorrectly believed extinct, had reasserted itself. Like the lodge rescued from the wrecking ball, it was coming alive again, and Wyatt was my muse.
He must have mistaken the look on my face for horror when, in fact, it was total awe. “Tell you what,” he continued. “I was planning to take the weekend off. Chill out. Drink some beer. Watch the baseball playoffs. You like baseball?”
“I like baseball.”
“I could knock out replacing the flue, get the necessaries installed to bring you up to code. Then we could hang out here, have a few, watch the game. Whatever.”
“You’d do that?”
Wyatt’s eyes circled the room, found their way back to me. “This is a great house. I could get used to spending some time here.”
“You’re always welcome to hang out.”
“I’d like that,” Wyatt said, the snarl of that sexy smile playing crookedly at one corner of his mouth. “Friends can be few and far between up here in this neck of the woods, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded.
“Be back first thing tomorrow.”
On his way toward the door, Wyatt tucked the clipboard under an armpit and clapped his free hand against my butt in what would have been a typical safe and friendly gesture between guys had his fingers not lingered a second longer than what could be viewed as innocent, and his eyes not checked me out with a lust-filled glance.
And this time, I didn’t imagine it.
THE LANDSCAPE GUY
David Holly
For the past four hours, I had been peeking out the kitchen window at the landscape guy who was bossing a group of flunkies. The flunkies were using shovels and machines to dig holes in my parents’ yard. About every forty-five minutes, trucks arrived loaded with full-grown trees and massive bushes, and while the flunkies righted the foliage in the holes, the landscape guy consulted blueprints and shouted. Of course, I could have told that the landscape guy was the boss even if he hadn’t been the only one doing no actual physical labor. The flunkies were wearing dirty yellow hard hats and the landscape guy was wearing a flashy clean white one.
The landscape guy not only acted differently from his crew, but he looked different. The workers had big stomachs that made their jeans ride down in the back so that they were constantly exposing the cracks of their fat hairy butts. Since the landscape guy’s chest and ass were bigger than his waist, his clothes fit. Did they ever fit—I was drooling into the sink over the way his clothes fit. His T-shirt and jeans were tight, particularly the jeans, which were real cookie cutters that showed off a nice set of manly curves and an even more enticing package in the front. I would not have minded seeing the landscape guy’s butt crack, and as for the rest—yeah!
Though my attention was riveted on his lower body, particularly his cock and balls, I still gave some consideration to his powerful chest, brawny arms, and mighty shoulders. He had a handsome tanned face, and thick chestnut hair with blond streaks. As he pointed toward spots in the yard that set his men to digging, his rounded butt muscles tightened. I imagined that powerful ass driving his thick shaft right into me and nearly creamed my shorts.
I looked at the kitchen clock hopefully. I’d last carried lemonade to the workers forty-five minutes earlier. The garbage bin was nearly overflowing with squeezed lemons from my three previous trips outside to refresh the workers. I just had to wait another fifteen minutes.
I managed to wait ten. By then I had another batch of lemons squeezed and I had filled tumblers with ice and red cherries. I poured in the lemonade and added a garnish of orange slices and mint. Before going outside with the tray, I again checked my appearance in the hall mirror. I still looked like a fresh-faced college sophomore, though there was a touch of self-indulgence beginning in the corners of my eyes. I no longer looked the dewy virgin of my teens, but perhaps that was to the good (so long as I didn’t age any more). My hot red tennis shorts fit my ass just so, and my white Adidas shirt enhanced my torso.
“Tighten your zippers,” shouted one of the yellow hats as I crossed the half-excavated yard carrying their tumblers on a bamboo tray. “Here he comes again.”
I couldn’t see the landscape guy’s face, but his workers thought the joke hilarious. My hands shook, and I dropped the tray into the fresh-turned earth. Turning, I raced back into the house and upstairs, where I threw myself facedown on my bed and wept bitterly.
I had not been sprawled there long before I heard a soft noise from the hall. I lifted my face from my tear-damp pillow and saw the landscape guy framed in my doorway.
“I’m sorry about my guys, Rich,” he said. “I wish they hadn’t hurt your feelings, but you gotta understand that being gay is a big joke with them.”
The landscape guy knew my name! Of course, my parents would have told him when they hired him just before departing on a two-month cruise and leaving me at home to suffer through all the remodeling. But he had remembered.
“You know I’m gay?” I asked.
His face reddened. “Shit, sorry.”
What was he apologizing for? I wondered. “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
Amazingly, he entered my room and sat down on my bed. “You know how guys talk,” he said.
“Sure,” I agreed, having no idea what he was on about.
“It’s kind of a story going around,” the landscape guy admitted. “About how you’ve gotten all the workmen to…uh…well, you know.”
“Huh?”
The landscape guy drew a deep breath. “That you got them to fuck you—in the ass. The drywall hanger. The contractor. The plumber. The electrician. The roofer. The painter. Even that weird cabinetmaker.”
“Holy shit. You mean it’s true?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. “I did have sex with those guys. I’m surprised that they bragged about it.”
“Maybe they didn’t,” the landscape guy said with an enigmatic smile. “Maybe I was just seeing how you’d respond.”
“What?” I asked hopefully. Did he mean what I was hoping he meant?
He was. Though it turned out not exactly in the way I thought. His next words were music to my ears.
“I like a little ass action myself,” the landscape guy said, reaching out and touching me for the first time.
Promptly my cock stiffened in my shorts. I rolled onto my side and touched the landscape guy’s cock through his tight jeans. “You can fuck me,” I said. “I’d like that. I have condoms and lubricant in that drawer right next to you.”
The landscape guy opened the drawer and pulled out the suggested items including a couple of my best butt plugs and anal vibrators. “Nice toys,” he said. “But you don’t get it, Rich. I might fuck your ass if I feel like it. But first you gotta fuck mine.”
That was a situation I’d never considered. I’d always been the bottom. Always. Nobody had ever asked me to play the top. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, college boy. You’re gonna piss with the big dogs this time. I ’spect you to cornhole me like a boss sticking it to a day laborer.”
So saying, the landscape guy started to undress. He removed his white hard hat and pulled his T-shirt over his head. His muscles rippled under his light downy chest hair. “My name’s Bob, by the way. We oughta get names straight between us before we commence to fucking.”
I was too thunderstruck to respond. At least I couldn’t speak, though my cock was responding superbly. Bob the landscape guy had politely removed his work boots before coming upstairs, so only heavy white socks covered his feet. He pulled those off before standing to unfasten his jeans. I rubbed my cock through my tennis shorts as I watched Bob push down his jeans. A pair of almost pristine Jockey briefs hove into view, briefs so distended that they pulled boldly into his rear.
“Just look at that crack,” Bob suggested, turning so I could see his ass. “In a few minutes you’re gonna have your fuckin’ dick right up there.”
In my excitement, I nearly tore my shirt getting it over my head. Then I rolled back and pushed down my shorts and underpants together. It hadn’t been this way with the other workmen my parents had hired. I had to come on to them, seducing them by degrees until they were so horny they couldn’t resist fucking me. Bob was working off a totally different script.
“Whoa, that’s a nice pecker you got there, Rich,” Bob said. I hadn’t realized it before, but my dick was a tad larger than Bob’s. Not that there was anything wrong with Bob’s. It was standing tall and looked plenty thick and even tasty.
“Here, now, college boy,” Bob protested. “That weren’t what I had in mind.” His protest was rather feeble, however, and he did not try to push me off his prick. He let me kiss the head of it, lick down the shaft, and even suck on it a bit. Finally, though, he decided that I had sucked enough.
“You can’t sidetrack me from my aim,” he said, gently raising my head from his cock. He threw himself facedown on my bed and drew up his left leg. “Why don’t you just slip some of that lube into my ass. Maybe use one of them plugs on me a bit.”
His asshole was a brownish bud winking at me. I dolloped some lubricant onto it with my finger, and then I lubed my smallest butt plug. I didn’t know how much experience Bob had, and I certainly did not want to cause him pain. My own first fuck had been slow and gentle, so pleasant that I wanted that same experience time after time. Of course, I’d had so much penetration since then that I could have accommodated King Kong, had the big monkey been gay.
I eased the plug into Bob’s anal sphincter, which opened readily. Bob sighed as I pushed it into him and slowly fucked his asshole with it. “That’s nice, but I can take a bigger one,” he said.
“Okay, but I want you to slip one into my ass too, so I can hold it in while I work on you,” I suggested.
“You stick it into your own ass while I watch,” Bob countered. “I want to see you pop it into your ass.”
Nodding in compliance, I selected an anal vibrator, lubed it well, rolled onto my back, pulled my legs up, and positioned the thing against my asshole. It was already vibrating merrily with a loud humming throb. Bob’s eyes were bright with glee as he watched it disappear into my asshole. I closed my eyes in bliss as I pushed it in, and I nearly shot a load as my asshole opened around the vibrating mass and the throbbing lip reached my prostate.
“Oh, fuck me,” I moaned.
“You still gotta fuck me first,” Bob demanded.
The vibrations were urging me toward greater acts of lust, so I picked up another vibrator, one equal in size to the one I was holding up my rear, turned it up full power, and pushed it into Bob’s ass. He howled with joy.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Bob moaned. “Fuck me with that thing, college boy.”
Bob really knew how to take it, so I fucked him hard with the vibrator, sometimes massaging him deep, and other times shallow. Then I would find his prostate and hold the toy in place until he was close to coming. My own cock was leaking a thin stream, and I knew that if I was ever going to have the experience of fucking a man’s ass, the time had arrived. I lubed my dick and slid an extrastrength condom onto it.
Holding the vibrator in my own ass with one hand, I used my other to remove the one in Bob’s ass and then position my cock against his butthole. The landscape guy was open and ready for me. “Shove your cock into me, college boy,” he wailed in the extremity of his lust. “Fuck me ’til I can’t walk.”
His asshole was hot and rough. Even through the condom, I could feel the friction as I pushed with my own ass. The vibrator up my ass was trying to come out as I drove my hips downward. I tried to hold it in with one hand as I bored into Bob’s ass. Then I was in him all the way, feeling as I never had before and lusting to come inside of him just as all those other men had come in me. I raised my ass and humped downward. Up and down I rose until I lost hold of the vibrator and it flew out of my ass with a popping sound. At that point, I wasn’t about to go looking for it. I continued humping while Bob continued to moan, demanding that I fuck him hard and fast.
“Fuck me like I’m a girl,” he howled, which was a bit of a turn-off, but I ignored the sentiment and continued humping him.
“Take it like a man,” I quoted. “When you’re butt-fucked, you’ll take it and like it.”
“I fuckin’ like it,” he howled. “Give it to me harder, college boy. Fuck me ’til I come.”
I didn’t know about making the landscape guy come, but my exertions were about to make me come. I could hardly believe it—I who had always played the bottom, who had been the one with the cock in his ass while the other guy howled with pleasure, not that some of them hadn’t brought me around—I was just about to shoot my load into a guy’s ass, an absolute first. The deep tingles had already started in the head of my cock. Bob’s moans were virtually unheard. He could have cried out for mercy then and I would have ignored him. I was committed to orgasm and ejaculation. I humped him harder, thrusting wildly in his ass as he moaned and howled with joy, and the rapturous tingles traveled up my cock and through my pelvis. My asshole was throbbing, my nipples were crinkling, my eyelids were fluttering, and my lips were curling back into a snarl.
Then the powerful muscles at the base of my cock contracted and I shot my first splat of hot semen into the condom buried deep in the landscape guy. I fucked him harder and faster as I shot my load and the strong spasms shook me. Waves of pleasure washed over me, their undercurrents pulling my whole body into giving up its bounty. Storms seemed to be blasting my brain, for I could not think. I was thunder, lightning, hailstorms, tornadoes of passion as I blasted my hot spunk into Bob’s ass.
Then I sprawled beside him, the rubber pulled from my dick and deposited in the wastebasket. My breath came in gasps and my heart thundered as if after a hard workout in the gym.
“That was a great fuck,” I managed.
“Most gratifying,” the landscape guy echoed.
As my breathing eased, I propped up on one arm and let my hand glide over the mounds of his most gratifying ass.
“Tell me something, Bob,” I urged.
“What would you like to know, Rich?”
“Well,” I stalled, wondering how to broach the subject delicately. “It regards your grammar and diction.”
“Ah, that,” he said, rolling over and grinning at me. “You noted some inconsistencies?”
“More than a few. When you first spoke to me, you spoke fairly normally. Then you degenerated into a hick. You know, calling me ‘college boy’ and using words like ‘cornhole.’ Now you’re talking like a college professor.”
“I was speaking crudely earlier to enhance your experience. Let the wealthy blue blood bang the ignorant hard hat.”
“Wearing the hard hat doesn’t make you ignorant.”
“Of course not. I have a bachelor’s in ornamental horticulture and a master’s in landscape architecture from Ohio State University. And, yes, I did teach some courses there while I was working on my graduate degree.”
Somehow, he had been just a bit more exciting when I thought him ignorant. Noticing my slight disappointment, Bob suddenly pulled me close and kissed my mouth. His hot tongue slid into my mouth and warred with mine. I could feel his hands on my shoulders, before they traced gently down my back until he reached my ass. He went on kissing me while both hands fondled my buttocks.
“Oh, I want you inside of me,” I moaned when I could get a breath. “I want you to take me. Fuck me.”
“Just like you fucked me?” he asked.
“You won’t need to use a vibrator. Just your big cock will serve.” I didn’t want to waste time on preliminaries; though the vibrator was always fun, I could play with it when I was alone. I wanted real man-flesh inside of me.