I didn’t want to be the kind of customer who was constantly looking over the contractor’s shoulder. One hot afternoon, though, I wandered over to the greenhouse to inspect the work. I’d been sunning myself in the back yard, and I was wearing only a pair of gym shorts.
Both workmen were shirtless, and as my eyes darted from their sweat-glistening torsos to what they were doing with their hands and back again, I caught myself speculating about how exciting an orgy could be on a humid summer day like this, and I began to spring quite a hard-on inside my shorts.
To keep the two men from noticing my growing erection, after I greeted them I squatted down on my heels to take a closer look at what they were doing.
The deck was completed, and there was a large, irregular hole cut in it, where the prefabricated hot tub would be sunk, at floor level.
Marco was under the deck on his hands and knees, muttering curses and banging around with a wrench as he installed the plumbing that would supply the tub with water.
Above him, Gino was using a piece of sandpaper wrapped around a block to smooth the raw edges of planking around the hole.
“How’s it going, guys?” I asked, focusing my gaze on the little gold cross dangling between Gino’s hard brown pecs, with their large conical nipples.
Gino glanced up from his work and grinned. Flecks of sawdust were glued to his flesh by his sweat. The smell of the raw wood filled my nostrils, and I could feel my prick getting even more rigid inside my suddenly too-tight shorts.
“Good, I guess,” the young workman replied. “They’re supposed to deliver the hot tub tomorrow. Marco says we have to get the deck stained and sealed this afternoon, so we can just take the hot tub right out of the crate and drop it into the hole.”
“Then, if I can get these frigging pipes hooked up,” Marco drawled lazily between bangs of his wrench, “we can fill ‘er up with water and go for a trial run.” He grunted as a stubborn section of pipe refused to be screwed into place. “Don’t spend all afternoon on that sanding, Gino. I need you to get your ass down here and help me with this.”
“But I want this edge to look nice,” Gino protested, reluctantly abandoning his sanding block.
“Nobody’s going to be able to see it once the tub’s in place,” Marco pointed out.
“Why don’t I finish the sanding while you two guys work on the pipes?” I suggested. “I’m absolutely hopeless when it comes to anything mechanical, but I think I can handle this.”
Marco didn’t protest, and I rather enjoyed laboring under the hot sun, which, as it penetrated the glass roof above my head, seemed to become concentrated as though by a prism to sear my bare skin.
By the time I had completed the circumference of the opening in the deck, I was as sweaty and powdered with sawdust as Gino had been. I was also wildly, inexplicably horny. Or perhaps there was a perfectly obvious explanation, after all. Working beside two good-looking, bare chested numbers had gotten my motor going.
I excused myself and went back inside the house as Marco and Gino, having assembled the plumbing to Marco’s satisfaction, got busy on the deck with paint cans and brushes.
Once safely inside the cool, dark interior of the house, I tore off my shorts and stood under a lukewarm shower, not bothering to soap myself, but simply letting the steady, soothing downpour cool my heated flesh and rinse off the sawdust.
Then, naked and dripping, my hair soaked, I turned off the shower, stepped out of the stall, and went over to look out the bathroom window, which overlooked the back yard and the greenhouse. Unlike some bathroom windows, which had frosted panes to ensure privacy, this one had clear panes. It was unlikely, after all, that some voyeur would come into my back yard and sneak up to the window in hopes of seeing me in the nude. On the other hand, there was nothing to prevent an occupant of the bathroom from looking out.
Through the fruit trees I could see Marco and Gino, both still half-naked, wielding their paint brushes. I took a deep breath, wiped my wet hair back from my forehead with one hand, and grasped my damp cock in the other.
I began to masturbate, quite matter-of-factly teasing myself first back into full erection and then toward orgasm while I furtively observed the two workmen.
Both young guys were on their hands and knees, and it was easy for my overheated imagination to picture them not only completely nude but engaged in a variety of sex acts, in the most lascivious positions.
Because Gino was so passive, so eager to please, I visualized Marco as the aggressor. I imagined Gino naked on his hands and knees, his face pressed against the rough boards of the unpainted deck, his buttocks thrust high up into the air and spread wide open to expose the deep, hairy cleft between them to the glaring sun.
Marco, also naked, was squatting behind him, his hands gripping Gino’s hips to steady himself as he rocked back and forth on his heels. In my fantasy, he was driving his thick, stiff cock in and out of Gino’s tight, butch asshole, which squirmed around its bulk as the young Italian-American stud literally screwed himself on his boss’ dick.
The fantasy was so vivid that I could imagine the tense look on Gino’s face as he got fucked by Marco’s big cock. He’d have his eyes tightly shut in ecstatic concentration, his mouth open and panting, his cheek pressed against the deck, and there’d be an occasional twitch of response pulsating through his facial muscles when Marco thrust into him extra-hard and cost him a fleeting spasm of pain.
Gino’s palms would be spread out on the deck to brace himself against the steady anal onslaught, and his fingertips would be clawing at the wood, his powerful arm and shoulder muscles knotted up with erotic tension.
His ass would be pumping back and forth, the cheeks pressing themselves recklessly against Marco’s groin to guarantee that every inch of the fucker’s cock sank into his guts each time. One thing I didn’t have to imagine was how that cock would feel, going in and out of him, reaming him out. Marco had fucked me, lots of times, and even after all these years the memory was still vivid.
And Gino’s own cock and balls, grossly swollen, the tip of his penis jabbing about wildly and dripping jism as it fucked thin air, would be fully visible, aimed downward at the deck as Marco, his ejaculation approaching in a rush of sensation, humped him harder and faster.
“Oh, Jesus!” I heard myself muttering under my breath. My hand moved more rapidly around my cock and I now put myself in Marco’s place, trying to imagine how hot and tight Gino’s asshole would feel while I drilled it with my fuck tool.
Take it, you hot-assed little bastard. Take my prick up your butch ass! And beg for it! Beg for my cock, for my cum!
I could feel my balls tightening up, pressing against the base of my prick shaft and getting ready to send a hot stream of semen flowing through my penis.
I was too excited, my lewd thoughts too stimulating. I couldn’t prolong the hand job I was giving myself any longer—I was going to have to come!
Shamelessly, I remained by the window, staring at the two unsuspecting workmen, lusting after them. And I came, spraying my thick wet jism all over the tiled bathroom wall just under the windowsill, shuddering my way through an unusually strong and satisfying orgasm.
When I had stopped ejaculating, I caught my breath, then grabbed a wash cloth and wiped my cum off the tiles. Reluctantly, I abandoned my observation post and took another quick shower, lathering myself with soap from head to foot this time. My thoughts might be dirty, but physically I was keeping myself clean.
My cock, when I took it in my hand to scrub it, still tingled with response, as though welcoming my touch. I resisted the urge to try for a second orgasm. Instead, I just dried myself off and got dressed.
When Marco and Gino knocked off for the day, I went out and invited them to stay for dinner.
“Nothing fancy,” I warned. “Just potluck.”
Marco accepted, but Gino said he had a date with his girlfriend.
I waited until Gino got into his car and drove off before I questioned his bo
ss. “Girlfriend, huh?”
“Hey, we can’t all be queer,” Marco pointed out. “Somebody’s got to do the breeding and produce the next generation of cops and constructor workers. But I suspect that boy can be had. I’ve dropped a few hints, and he hasn’t been too shy about picking up on them. He’s not the only work in progress I’ve got going at the moment.”
I shook my head. “God, you always were a horny bastard.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“That reminds me of something I want to show you. Wait a minute.”
I gave Marco a pre-dinner drink, and then I went into my bedroom and rummaged around in my closet until I found what I wanted. I returned to the living room and handed Marco my well-thumbed and cum-stained copy of Cops in Cuffs.
“Remember this?” I asked. “The graduation gift you gave me?”
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’ve kept that thing, all these years!”
“Like any true classic, it hasn’t gone out of style,” I quipped.
Marco flipped through the pages of explicit photos. “Have you and one of your many hot cop buddies ever acted out what these two dudes are doing to each other?”
“Ah—” I stalled for time.
Marco laughed. “I’ll take that as a definite yes, Five-O! An admission of guilt.”
“Hey,” I protested. “When we’re not actually busting any perps, we have to do something to keep our handcuffs in good working order.”
“Yeah. Your cuffs…and all of your other equipment!”
We had a nice little dinner, during which we talked. It was an interesting experience for me. We were comfortable in each other’s presence, and the atmosphere was pleasant and friendly. But at the same time there was an undeniable undercurrent of sexual promise flowing between us. We were flirting with each other, but in a light, playful way, without the heavy cruising that usually goes on between two men who are trying to end up in bed together. As though by some mutual unspoken pact, Marco and I seemed to have agreed to take things slowly.
“This is nice,” I said. “Having company, I mean. I’m used to jumping into bed with a guy the minute I meet him. It’s a pleasant change to just have somebody to sit and talk to.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Not that I would mind doing a lot more with you than just talking to you,” I said. “Sometime.” This was my idea of dropping a none-too-subtle hint.
He smiled at me. “That possibility has crossed my mind, too. More than once. But maybe it’d be a good idea to get this job out of the way, first. That gives me an extra incentive to wrap it up quickly. Hey, didn’t you tell me you’re going back to work tomorrow?”
“Yeah. It hasn’t been much of a vacation, but being able to stay at home and relax a little was a treat, I suppose.”
“You’re probably going to want to make an early night of it, then.”
“Yeah.”
“Me, too. Tomorrow’s the big day. We should have the tub installed and everything tided up by the middle of the afternoon. Unless something goes wrong and has to be fixed at the last minute, which does happen. Often enough to piss me off.”
“That means you and Gino will probably be gone by the time I get home. I’ll miss the ribbon cutting.”
“Yeah, but I want you try out the tub the minute you get home. If there’s anything at all that’s not working right, or that you just want tweaked, you call me and let me know.”
“I will. By the way, while you’re working here tomorrow, I want you guys to make yourself at home. You’ve got the keys,” I reminded Marco. “I’ve loaded up the fridge with beer and cold cuts, so if you want sandwiches and drinks, help yourselves. Don’t work poor Gino too hard. Let him have at least one break.”
“Damn. With this kind of hospitality, I might be tempted to move in.”
“I wouldn’t mind it if you did. You’ve already got a standing invitation to visit, any time you want.”
“Still got your rain check?”
“It’s burning a hole in my pocket. I can’t wait to cash it in.”
“All in good time.”
Chapter Seventeen
Three Men in a Tub
When I came home from work late the next afternoon and pulled into the driveway, I was startled to see Marco’s pickup truck and Gino’s car both parked there. As Marco had predicted, there must’ve been some last-minute glitch after all.
I was disappointed. I’d had a busy day. As a result, I felt tired, hot, and sweaty. A soak in my new hot tub would’ve been just what I needed, to help me unwind.
I started to walk toward the back yard, but then I changed my mind and let myself into the house. On top of everything else, I needed to take a leak. In the bathroom, I relieved myself, and then I glanced out the window, into the back yard. I could see the greenhouse through the trees.
There were no signs of activity outside the glass box. I couldn’t be sure from this distance, but it looked as though the hot tub was not only installed in the deck—it was operating, and it had occupants! Some instinct made me go into my bedroom, retrieve my camera from the drawer I kept it in, and return to the bathroom window. The camera was equipped with a telephoto lens. I trained the viewfinder on the greenhouse and twisted the ring on the lens housing to bring distant objects close up. I was jolted when two naked male bodies suddenly came into view!
Marco and Gino were in the hot tub, and they weren’t just soaking themselves. They were making love! At first, I almost thought I must be imagining it—that I was fantasizing again.
But, as I stared at the two men through the high-powered lens, I quickly realized that what I was seeing was real. Furthermore, it was a hot turn-on, better than any porno video I’d ever seen, because this was live action, taking place in front of me in real time.
Okay, I admit it. I began snapping photos as I watched, clicking the shutter at regular intervals to preserve the lurid images for posterity. This was unethical, to say the least, but I couldn’t help myself. After all, it wasn’t every day that I had a private sex show going on in my very own back yard!
The voyeurism was a strange experience was me. The focus of the view through the lens was clear and sharp. But in a way it was like watching a silent movie. I could see the hot tub frothing, but I couldn’t hear the bubbling of the water. The two naked men were both open-mouthed and shuddering, but I could only imagine what their moans and gasps of intense arousal sounded like.
Gino was standing up in the tub, leaning over its edge, supporting himself with one hand pressed flat against the deck. He was masturbating himself with his other hand, his arm muscles bulging from the strain as they provided the impetus behind his steadily flailing fist.
Desperately excited, the hot-bodied little stud looked as though he was going to come any second.
Watching, I could understand why Gino was so turned on. Marco was in the tub, on his knees, so that the whirlpool surged around his chest. His hands were on Gino’s buttocks, holding them wide apart, and his face was buried between the two hard-muscled, squirming mounds of rump flesh, his tongue plunging in and out of Gino’s sphincter ring as he sucked his ass.
When he couldn’t take it any longer, Gino writhed out from under Marco, turned around, and sat on the edge of the tub with his legs dangling in the water.
He was still jerking away on his prick, but Marco moved in between his open thighs and pushed his hand away. Marco bent his wet head down to Gino’s crotch and licked the fat, hard dick with lascivious relish, using his tongue to lubricate and tickle every part of it.
Then he sucked the whole cock inside his mouth and let the head slide down into his throat, obviously coming recklessly close to choking on its bulk.
Gino sank back onto the wet deck, his hips pumping madly to thrust his prick in and out of his cock sucker’s mouth. Marco reached up blindly with both hands, found Gino’s nipples, and began to pinch them while he blew him.
The expression on Gin
o’s face turned even more ecstatic. He was gasping for breath, his torso shaking with lust.
I was having trouble holding the heavy camera steady. I took one hand away from it and let my palm stray down over my own chest. I unbuttoned the front of my uniform shirt and slid my hand in between the open shirt and the plain white T-shirt I wore under it. Through the thin cotton fabric of the T-shirt, I began rubbing and teasing my stiff tits, coaxing them into still more pronounced hardness and sensitivity.
My cock was straining against the fabric of my uniform pants, and I finally put my hand down against the lump of my erection and squeezed it roughly, my fingers stroking the shaft of my penis as best as they could through my trousers and undershorts.
Either Marco sensed that Gino was about to come, or Gino warned him, because Marco released his penis, pushed his head down lower between Gino’s legs, and began to lick and suck on his balls.
Gino grabbed his dick in his fist and beat it frantically, with Marco’s fingertips still working on his tits. Gino’s legs kicked about in the water, whipping it into a white froth. Then, suddenly, he ejaculated, his jism shooting from the tip of his cock with awesome force, the hot white jets arcing through the air and streaking across Marco’s cheek and shoulder before landing in the water and disappearing.
Twisting his body from side to side on the deck, humping his butt up and down, and pushing his balls against Marco’s face and mouth, Gino milked his cock dry, until his last sluggish outpourings of sperm oozed slowly down the shaft of his penis and the fingers that he still had wrapped snugly around it.
Marco must’ve said something to Gino, because the latter quickly rolled over onto his belly on the deck, while Marco heaved himself out of the water—rather resembling a sleek, agile seal as he clambered up onto the deck and unceremoniously stretched out on top of Gino’s back, his hand already reaching down between their bodies to guide his cock between his co-worker’s buttocks.
A Thing for Cops Page 19