by Neil Plakcy
They say that when you are about to die your life slows and seconds seem like minutes. That was happening to me now as I awaited my fate. The arms appeared to be strong and muscular as the body skittered farther down the ladder. Strong enough to wrench my neck sideways, obliterating my life in an easy snap, unless I got in first. I raised the bat with as much bravado as I could muster. The head…that same head I was about to batter into oblivion was… Oh, fuck! I couldn’t tell whether the shallow breaths I was taking and the adrenaline beating of my heart was fear now or lust. His eyes were blue. He was beefy, blond and beautiful. Not handsome. Beautiful as you would describe an angel or some other ethereal being who was too good to be true.
He was half turned, calling to someone below as I raised the bat. However, my dick was telling me that there were better ways of getting revenge. He was too beautiful to smack in the head and I was about to whack his knees when he turned and saw me.
He stopped. He blinked. He called down: “The guy’s home after all.”
To me, he said, “G’day, mate,” in such a warm and friendly manner I almost forgot my intense dislike for the clichéd greeting. “Nice bat and set of balls.”
I realized I was totally naked, and erect, and that he was nodding in the direction of my tackle when he made the observation. I dropped the cricket bat and grabbed for my briefs from the end of the bed. I had trouble pulling them over my erection and it poked over the top of the elastic waistband making it look even more obscene than my nakedness had been.
“Don’t you just hate piss pricks?” he said.
His mate called up impatiently from below.
“Hold your horses. He wants to discuss indoor cricket.”
There was a snort of derision from the backyard.
“Sorry to disturb you, mate,” he said. “Hard night?”
I explained that I was a night worker and…what the hell was I doing discussing my sleep patterns with a fucking burglar? Albeit a ravishing burglar.
“Didn’t you get the landlord’s note?” he asked.
“The…?” Then it hit me. A month ago a note had been slipped under my door telling me the landlord was finally going to fix the problem roof and guttering that leaked like a sieve every time it rained, smearing a moldy stain across a corner of the bedroom ceiling.
“Oh, shit.” I wasn’t going to die after all. The split-second thought of the relationship between danger and my erectile performance I filed for analysis at another time. Interesting. But later.
“You wanna come in?” I asked
“I don’t think there’s enough room in there for you, me, and that!” he said nodding in the direction of my blood-engorged cock.
I smiled. “I’ll throw some clothes on and let you in the back door.”
He okayed the idea and scrambled down as agilely as…well, a cat burglar.
A few minutes later I was unlocking the glass back door and letting him and his mate in. I had the coffee on and thought a little hospitality was the least I could do as a peace offering. They dumped their tools near the door, asking if they could store them in the house to save bringing them back every day. I didn’t dare ask how long they’d be on the job in case I gave away my enthusiasm for a slow completion date.
Stig introduced himself with a handclasp that sent sparks of longing through my whole body. He had been raised in Australia by his mum but his dad was Swedish.
His surly mate was Egon, a darkly attractive German who grunted rather than phrased recognizable answers to any of my questions. They told me of the upheaval that my life was to undergo in the next few weeks, right down to my having to move to the front bedroom while they cut out part of the ceiling and replastered it.
Damn. The inconvenience was a pisser. But…well, there was always an upside to every situation if you just looked at it the right way. They finished their coffee, and I told them I’d leave the back door open so they could use the kitchen and bathroom anytime they wanted.
“Most people don’t even like us to come inside the house,” Egon whined.
“Yeah, mate, that’s mighty good of you,” Stig enthused. “We’ll do a bang-up job for you and get outta your hair real quick.”
“Oh, no need to hurry,” I stammered.
Egon and Stig had that easy camaraderie that is so obvious among builders worldwide. Stig grabbed a handful of crotch through his shorts and muttered playfully, “Eat me, cocksucker!” to his boss. Stig looked at me after a swift facial admonition from Egon and muttered, “Sorry, mate.”
“That’s okay, just builders’ talk, I know.”
Stig bent over in front of me (deliberately?) to pick up his tool belt and his T-shirt rode up so I could catch a glimpse of that exquisite sweaty butt crack topped with a fuzz of blond foliage. I got hard instantly. Egon noticed me staring. He didn’t look impressed. Jealous, perhaps?
Telling them to call me before they left so I could lock away their gear, I reluctantly went back to bed. This time, though, I closed the window and pulled the curtains, leaving them open just enough so that I could watch glimpses of Stig as he shimmied up and down the ladder. They kept their noise to a minimum, but I still couldn’t sleep. I kept watching the chink in the curtains hoping for another glimpse of Stig’s perfect skin, so perfect it looked as if the color had been mixed on the most exquisite palette and sprayed on with an artist’s airbrush. No amount of instructing my body to sleep was going to get it to obey with that in the vicinity.
I pulled down the sheet and began to massage my cock, which was already half hard. It was demanding attention and would not let me have any peace until I helped it out. I stroked it as I thought of Stig and his luscious mouth closing around my knob, his tongue flicking at the slit…. I slowly bent the naked builder over the edge of my bed and pulled his ass crack apart, aiming my hard-on at the moist, inviting hole. I plunged and he grunted…. But every fantasy conjured up in my mind had Egon in the background. Watching. Glaring possessively.
I eventually shot my load into the sheet while I fantasized about anything other than Stig, my mind racing through various fantasy scenarios just one step ahead of Egon. And Egon was there, too, in my dreams. Threatening.
The following week was agony. Stig’s presence was enough to send me dizzy with the thwarted possibilities while Egon stood guard over his workmate. Egon did thaw a little and showed me photos of his wife and daughter. They made a beautiful family. He was a little older than Stig, perhaps thirty or so, with tufts of dark hair on his chest. He was less beefy than Stig and less gregarious but I noticed a definite change in the tone of his grunts. Stig, it seemed, had no photos of family or even girlfriends as they came and went as frequently as he came and went. Or so Egon would have me believe. Stig merely confirmed the stories with a blush that looked like it had been applied by a celestial makeup artist.
At the beginning of the second week, Stig arrived on his own. I usually waited up for them with a freshly brewed pot of coffee. They liked that and sat and nattered for about fifteen minutes before staring work. I would then head off to bed and my attempt at a Stig-induced wet dream.
“Where’s Egon?” I asked, hoping this would be my opportunity to make some sort of play for Stig or least drop a few spangles so he knew that I thought he was attractive.
“Louisa is sick. He had to take her to the doctor,” he said as he slurped the coffee, cream and two sugars. I’d bought donuts on my way home from work that morning, and now I told him to help himself.
“Ta, mate,” he said as he took one and dunked it in his coffee.
“That’s very American,” I commented as he put it to his mouth.
“What is?” he said.
“Dunking donuts.”
“It’s okay, isn’t it?” he asked with some slight concern lest he be breaking some gastronomic rule about donuts.
I laughed. “Of course it is. You just don’t see many Aussies doing it.” He looked a bit bewildered and went to dunk again but hesitated. “Go on,” I sai
d.
He laughed and did as he was told. Oh, that he would do everything that easily.
“His daughter okay?” I asked Stig.
“Just a virus, he thinks. He’ll be here soon.”
Stig finished up and took the ladder out into the backyard.
“You need a hand?” I yelled.
“Nah, mate. She’ll be right.”
I made my way upstairs and got into bed. If Stig was around much longer I was definitely going to become sexually dysfunctional. I would have to encourage them to finish up as soon as they could. That way Stig would be gone and I’d get my life back. There was a thundering crash and a loud shout. I bolted out of bed and down the stairs. I wasn’t naked this time as I’d learned to wear my briefs to bed while the builders were around.
I laughed out loud. The extension ladder had come apart, Stig had fallen onto my favorite ornamental chili plant, and it was now beyond salvation. He looked so hurt and embarrassed, sheepishly wiping the back of his shorts clean of soil, I couldn’t have bawled him out.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” he said. “Just a little spill.” But when he attempted to get the ladder he hobbled and almost fell.
I rushed to help him. It was the first time I had touched that skin, smooth as icing on a cake.
“Maybe I had better sit down for a minute,” he said. He’d been badly shaken and looked quite pale.
I helped him inside and before he sat down I noticed specks of blood on his shorts.
“I think you may have cut yourself. You’re bleeding.”
“Where?” he asked.
“Your butt.”
He tried to look but couldn’t see.
“Let me have a look,” I offered. “Here, bend over the end of the couch. He did as he was told and I slid his shorts down a little. Yes, those melonlike cheeks had been scraped, and very small spots of blood dotted his rump. And some of the hardier twigs of the chili bush had protested their demise by jabbing into his flesh.
“Um, I may have to pull your shorts down farther,” I suggested, just managing to keep my voice under control.
“That’s okay; it hurts like hell back there.”
His shorts came off, and I whistled at the beginnings of a purple bruise. I touched it gently. “That hurt?”
“Hurts like fuck,” he winced.
I tried to cheer him up. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“If you think it will help,” he guffawed.
It was now or never.
I leaned over and pressed my lips to the bruise. I could tell it hurt him but I kept my lips there.
“Better?” I said.
“Not yet. A little to the left.”
I moved toward his ass crack and kissed again.
“Nice,” he whispered. “But maybe over a little more.”
I didn’t hesitate. I gently pried apart his asscheeks and put my lips to his fragrant hole.
“Yes, right there,” he moaned.
I licked gently and sucked voraciously at his blond, tanned ass. This boy obviously went to nude beaches because the tan went all the way. I maneuvered my tongue into his hole and lapped at the doorway to his guts. I wanted to lube him good before I pounced. Nothing was going to stop me from planting my cock inside him. I spat into his inviting hole and then on my cock before I stood up and leaned over him.
“Will this make you feel better?” I asked.
“Better than better,” he croaked through a mixture of desire and pain.
He grunted as my cock pushed aside the flesh of his sphincter, whether from pain or pleasure I wasn’t sure. I tried to avoid contact with the bruise on his ass, which meant I could not push in my full length. Frustrating, but I had more of my cock in Stig than I had thought I ever would.
“Slam it right in to your balls,” he demanded.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said truthfully.
“Fuck that. This is the best hurt I ever had. It was worth every bit of pain.”
I pushed gently into him until his warm sock of an asshole slid smoothly around my cock.
“What do you mean?” I asked as I picked up the pace.
“You know how hard it is to throw yourself off a ladder when you’re as safety conscious as me?”
He turned his head as best he could to look at my reaction. “How else was I gonna get you to look at my ass?”
“I look at your ass every single day you’re here,” I said. “I can’t take my fucking eyes off it. All you had to do was ask.”
He grunted his appreciation with every thrust.
“I don’t know how to,” he said. “It’s easier with girls.”
I pulled out.
“Hey, don’t stop,” he pleaded.
I led him upstairs to the bedroom. I wanted to watch this beautiful creature while I fucked him. I lay him on his back and told him to hold his legs back behind his head, exposing his beautiful pink swollen tunnel. I knelt down and kissed it again. Then I kneeled over him and pushed until he’d swallowed me right up to my balls. I wanted to push them inside him, too. I leaned toward him and held his head steady as I pried open his lips with my tongue. He knew guys fucked one another but he didn’t know they kissed, he told me later. I licked his lips and sucked gently on his tongue. He returned the favor, and our mouths opened wide as if attempting to suck out each other’s souls. When we came up for air he wiped his mouth with a quiet “Wow.”
I stroked his cock as I picked up the pace, and he arched his ass toward me. He was moving to meet my strokes, squeezing his ass round me, trying to absorb me totally. I gasped as his ass spasmed and he shot a load all over his chest. I pulled out and comingled my cum with his, howling as my squirts hit his chest. I collapsed on him and made swirling cum paintings on his stomach with my fingers.
Now comes the awkward part, I thought. But Stig wasn’t finished. He ignored his discomfort and leaned down to put his mouth over my cock. I flinched as those wet lips closed around my rod.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Am I doing it wrong?”
I laughed and moved my body so my mouth was over his still leaking prick—and engulfed it.
“Holy fuck,” he shouted, and his whole body bucked. “I want to taste you,” he said shyly.
“I want to taste you all over,” I said sincerely. “But won’t Egon be here soon?”
We heard movement downstairs.
“Sooner than we thought,” I said.
I threw on some clothes and gave Stig a towel because his shorts were still in the living room. As nonchalantly as we could, we went downstairs, Stig leaning heavily on me for effect rather than necessity.
“What’s going on?” Egon looked up.
“I fell off the ladder,” Stig said simply.
“Was the ladder in the bedroom?” Egon asked sarcastically.
“I had to lie down I was in so much pain,” Stig lied.
“Can you work today?” Egon asked as politely as he could considering he didn’t believe a word of it.
“Yeah, I’m just bruised.” Stig turned to show him.
Egon picked up his shorts and threw them to him. “Put your clothes back on.” When he stood up I noticed the outline of a not unsubstantial weapon in Egon’s shorts and the telltale spreading stain. He had either seen or heard what was going on, or he had one helluva vivid imagination.
Stig noticed, too.
“I think I might stay like this a little longer,” Stig said.
“As you please,” Egon was miffed.
“No need to act like you got the rag on,” Stig said. “There’s plenty for you if you got the guts to take it.” With that he grabbed Egon’s crotch and squeezed. Egon pushed his hand away like he’d been burned.
“That’s up to you, mate,” Stig shrugged and patted his ass. “But it can be yours anytime.”
I twinged with jealousy. Stig would never be mine for more than a quick grope but, still, on our wedding night I expected some sort of commitment.
>
“It could have been you, mate,” Stig said to Egon. “Except you’ve always been too scared. Those crap photos of your wife and daughter. Don’t you think I found out long ago that’s your sister and her kid. Why pretend, mate? You slobber over me behind my back. You can fire me if you want ’cause it’s your builder’s license, but I’m gonna tell you something first. From now on, every morning when I come to this job I’m gonna have me some fun before we start. I’m gonna do it on my own time, but I’m gonna do it every day. Or, at least as often as he wants it.” He pointed to me.
“Every day,” I managed to croak.
“And if he’ll let you, you can join in. You don’t mind if he joins in, do you, mate?” Stig asked.
He was so polite about it I could scarcely refuse.
The stain on Egon’s shorts was spreading. But he made no move. After a long pause, Stig grabbed his shorts and gingerly pulled them up over his butt.
“Okay, back to work.”
Stig gave me a long tongue-lashing and a wink before he headed outside. He slapped me on the ass and told me to get some sleep.
Over the next few days and weeks as the job slowly crept to completion Stig blossomed under our morning fuck sessions. It was the third day before Egon appeared at the door to watch and another before he hauled out his rock-solid cock and jerked off as he watched Stig bury his own cock to his balls in my ass. Two days later he tentatively put his cock in Stig’s mouth. His education proceeded at a slower pace but he was learning.
Stig bought me a bigger and better chili plant. And then, one day, the job was complete. Egon and I both fucked Stig that day. He wanted it. It was the first time. As I watched I could see how suited to each other these two were. The dark complementing the light. It would take time but it would come. I felt like an intruder that day.