by Neil Plakcy
But I didn’t suck him, at first. Instead, I noosed his hood, pressed it into his grated abs, and licked at his meat, up from his tightened balls and along his pulsing shaft in one smooth, wet motion. He clawed at my hair, his legs shaking, as I sensuously painted his pipe with delicate and bold tongue-strokes that left him drenched in saliva and sweat and my fingers sticky with precome.
Then I dropped his cock. It strained in the still, electrified air, sniffing at my lips. I breathed all over it, steaming it raw, driving the man wild. Then I clipped the jumping cap with my teeth, causing Blake to cry out his sweet torture.
I sank my teeth into his meaty cockhead and slowly chewed it into my mouth, until I tasted shaft. At which point I shot my head forward and swallowed the guy right down to the balls. Then I bounced back up again.
“Fuck!” he gasped, stunned. He stared down at me, unsure if what’d just happened had actually happened.
I proved that it had, sealing his cap between my lips and dive-bombing his shaft again, hands-free and balls-deep, over and over. Blake dug his fingernails into my scalp and hung on, growling, his cock filling my mouth, bouncing off the back of my throat and beyond.
Then I took a page out of Baldy’s X-rated book, quick-downing my man’s cock and holding it. And holding it. Nose pressing into his abdomen, chin pushing into his balls, I locked him down tight and wet and let the superheated, viselike pressure build to outrageous proportions. Fortunately for the both of us, my gag reflex is like the rest of my reflexes—virtually nonexistent.
“Holy shit!” Blake cried, pulling on my ears, banging on my head. His watery brown eyes were frantic, his pressure-packed cock gone from his sight for an excruciating minute and counting.
The tension tightened like a wrench on a bolt, sweat pattering down off Blake’s agonized face and onto mine. Humid breath steamed out of my flared nostrils and bathed his stomach, my cheeks and throat bulging with meat.
At last he grunted and shoved me back, before his balls boiled over. His dong burst out of my mouth in a gush of saliva, a slickened spear still tied to my lips by strings of spit.
“Want me to fuck you, Blake?” I asked, breathing hard hardly at all.
The guy nodded in amazement, and respect.
He ended up on his back on the picnic table; stark, stunningly naked; legs up and spread. Very receptive to learning a further thing or two from his work-inept apprentice.
I shoved my jeans and shorts down around my ankles and shuffled in between his legs, letting him get a good look at the fat, squat tool that was going to pound him like the compactor he used to pound the paving stones together in the sand. Then I gripped his ankles and slapped my cock against his cock. He moaned.
His legs were as gorgeously muscled as the rest of him and just as smooth, and I slid my hands down and around his clenched calves, squeezing them. Then I shouldered his legs and ran my hands along his thighs, inner and outer, digging my fingers into his big, bunched quads. His muscles twitched and his cock bounced up and down on his flat belly all on its own, as I felt him up.
“Fuck me!” he implored, playing with his golden nipples and staring up into the sun.
I could see the perverted neighbors over the fence again. Blondie was on all fours on the diving board, like a tawny animal, Baldy at the top of the steps gripping the steel railings and hammering the guy’s upraised ass. The board quivered like the pair of them, hanging out like Blondie’s tongue as his chute got reamed. I nodded my approval at the workmanship and then teased Blake’s asshole with the tip of my prick.
“Yeah, fuck me!” he responded, rolling his nipples, rolling his head back and forth on the smooth-sealed slats in sexual agony.
I squatted down, his legs riding my shoulders, and dug around in my grass-level pants pocket, came up with a condom and a one-session portable packet of lube. A good worker always comes prepared with his own tools. I suited and greased up my dick, nice and slow for Blake’s benefit, and mine. Then I oiled his crack, wriggling a couple of fingers two knuckles deep inside the hunk just to hear him squeal, see him squirm. Finally, I steered my shiny cockhead up against his smooth-as-silk asshole again.
But if he’d thought I was going to take it slow and gentle, ease my way into his tight crevice, then my cocksucking hadn’t taught him anything about the way I work the body. I punched through his starfish and plunged bowels-deep inside him, buried to the hilt in an instant. He jumped on the table like he’d been electrocuted, shouting obscenities to match our neighbors’.
I gripped the pale soles of his feet and thrust sure and deep, full-cock fucking the stud, out to the cap and all the way in again, over and over. He was supertight and burning hot; smooth-riding; the sight of his prone, cock-rocked body sizzling. The firm smack of my thighs against his shuddering ass filled my ears, the sensual feel of his gripping chute milking my churning cock and stoking my body with heat.
He frantically tugged on his own prick as I crammed his ass strong and steady. I tickled his feet, licked at his puckered soles, sucked on a tender toe or three, all the while pumping my hips, fucking his sweet anus with authority.
A scream sailed over the fence, followed by another. I jerked my head up and saw Blondie shaking out of control on the end of Baldy’s ramming cock, jacking ropes of sperm out of his own cock and onto the diving board as Baldy tilted his head back and let out a roar, emptying his balls in the blond bottom’s rippling ass.
“You’re going to come all over yourself!” I instructed my boss, pumping faster. “Right after I do!”
He groaned and flung his head from side to side, his sun- and cock-blasted body shaking.
I grasped his armored thighs and dug in, force-fucking the gorgeous man, brutally slamming his ass. We smashed together, my cock pistoning his chute, the wet-hot friction unbelievable. I surged with an incendiary heat, balls flapping and boiling; Blake’s hand flew up and down his shaft in rhythm to my savage fucking.
I caught fire, and my cock exploded in the stud’s sucking hole. I ripped out of Blake’s ass, tore off the condom and fisted wildly, spraying white-hot semen onto his jacked-up cock, torquing his action even more. He cried, “Fuck!” and sperm jetted out of his jizz-slick cock, splashing down onto his heaving chest and stomach in great, sticky gobs.
I still have plenty of goof-ups on the job. But it’s great finally having a boss who’s so forgiving. Among other things.
HERCULES TO THE RESCUE
Gavin Atlas
How was I supposed to work when the Cramers’ son was always walking around the house practically naked? The place was supposed to be empty during the repairs, but their boy Dylan had just finished finals at the University of Miami and had told his parents he needed to stay in town to find a job. Never mind that Hurricane Ava had torn half the tiles off the roof and took most of the north wall from the bedroom next to his.
“How the hell am I supposed to talk on the phone with you guys making all that racket?” he yelled while my assistant, Alex, sawed away at the tree branch that had come through the wall. Dylan only wore tiny gym shorts and pumped a small barbell with his left hand, an angry expression trained on the two of us.
I looked at him calmly. “That looks like a cordless phone, buddy,” I said. “It would be easier for you to take your call downstairs than it would be for us to move the tree.”
“You guys were supposed to be finished already,” he said, “and you’ve hardly started.”
“And if you keep kicking us out for your pool parties, your parents will be back before we’re done, and we’ll have to let them know the cause of all the delays, won’t we?”
He seemed to consider this and then walked out in a huff. I took a long look at his tight, round ass before going back to the branch. The real issue was not his parties so much as the fact that the whole neighborhood needed work done after the hurricane. The people who were supposed to remove the tree never bothered to show up. So Dylan wasn’t the main problem, but still, I didn’t appreciate h
is ordering us around or his snide smirks when I answered my cell phone, “Hercules to the rescue!” When he pays my bills, he can criticize.
It was hard to concentrate on the huge tree branch in front of me when all I could think about was Dylan’s body. He definitely worked out a lot—his ripped arms and thick thighs showed it. His stomach was flat, but his obliques weren’t defined, which was perfect. I’d rather have a guy look like a human than some bodybuilding machine. He was tan and smooth, and his piercing dark eyes made him appear confident and not the least bit innocent.
In fact, from the way he talked on the phone, he had a lot of sex. Dylan hadn’t gone back downstairs, and I could hear bits and pieces of his conversation.
“Chuck, you know I’d let you fuck me, but I need at least one person to be my friend instead of my top,” he said. “And I told you, I’m only into daddies.”
Well, that was interesting information.
“Uh, no, I think not,” he snapped. “I meant rich daddies, not construction workers. I mean he’s hot and built like a tank, but I’m just not into the blue collar thing. My dad’s boss is coming over to play around. We’ve been planning this for a while.” There was a pause and then he said something I couldn’t hear. Then I heard him say loudly, “Of course I’m doing it for the connections. If I did as bad as I think I did this semester, I need a job fast.” Another pause. “I don’t know. He’s okay, but he’s not what I would call good looking. No matter how much time I spend in the gym, I never get the hot daddies. But it’ll get me employed and, just as important, it gets my ass fucked.” I heard him hang up and then I heard the shower running.
“Hey, are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me carry this?” Alex asked, referring to the large branch. We thought about tossing it out the hole in the wall, but we didn’t want to risk damaging the patio out back. We’d carry it all the way out the front door.
“So it sounds like the son is one of your kind,” Alex said with a leer as we made our way down the stairs. “Why is that always the way? Not once have we run into a horny college girl.”
“Like you’d have the balls to do anything about it if we did,” I said.
“And you do? You’re going to nail this kid?”
“Did you hear that ‘blue collar’ shit? He’s a snot.”
“Just as well,” Alex said. “It’d be risky diddling a rich lawyer’s boy.”
“He’s an adult.” I figured he was around twenty-one. From what I’d heard him tell his friends, it sounded like his parents thought he was going to graduate, but he wasn’t.
As we climbed back up the stairs, Dylan emerged from his room wearing only a towel. His muscled torso looked wonderful spotted with water droplets and his wet, black hair fell haphazardly into his eyes.
“Hey, I have a job interview. You guys need to clear out… now,” Dylan ordered.
Alex rolled his eyes.
“Look, buddy,” I said. “We could lose other contracts if we keep putting up with your bullshit. Do you know how many people need repairs? What are your parents going to think if we decide to skip out on this job because their son kept us from doing our work?”
He hesitated. Another thing I knew from Dylan’s constant blabbing on the phone to this Chuck person was that he feared his father’s wrath.
“Fine,” he said. “But you need to disappear for a while.”
I had an idea.
“Alex, there’s not much more you can do with the wall until they get the tree. Why don’t you go home? I’m going to see what kind of repairs need to be done to the ventilation. Sound good, kid? I’ll be in the attic. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“Whatever. Fine.” He turned back to his room, his hair flicking water on my face and shirt.
Alex gave me a dubious look, but I didn’t care. Hercules Construction was my company, and I could do what I wanted.
Twenty minutes later I heard this boss guy climbing the stairs. It seemed like he’d let himself in and knew his way around the house.
I happened to be situated right at the air vent above Dylan’s bedroom and had a clear view of most of it. Dylan was dressed like the perfect little prep—neatly ironed striped shirt and a navy tie combined with dark dress pants that hugged his rear. The boss entered with such a forceful manner that Dylan backed up a little.
“Hi, Cliff,” Dylan stammered.
“I told you to call me ‘Mr. Tyler,’” the older man said, immediately grabbing Dylan’s bulge and rump. “And I thought I told you to be naked with your legs in the air.”
“Yes, Mr. Tyler.” Dylan rapidly stripped.
“Leave just the tie and keep the lights on. I like watching my cock go in and out of you.”
“Anything,” said Dylan. “I’ll do anything you want if you give me a job.”
In less than two minutes, this Mr. Tyler had Dylan on his back and had begun lubing up his hole. The boss had a small dick, but Dylan must have been very tight because his face turned red with effort when Tyler pushed in. God, if I got my dick in Dylan, I’d split him in two.
The boss rammed in and out furiously. Dylan groaned. His eyes were closed, and he did his best to push his hips up to meet every thrust.
“If you want to get a job with me, you’ll be giving me this ass all summer long, boy,” barked the boss.
“Yes, Mr. Tyler,” Dylan said, gasping.
I felt ashamed at being hard. How could the boss do this? No kissing, no caressing. Just taking his pleasure in Dylan’s ass.
The boss came in practically no time, shouting twice and collapsing on top of Dylan. The exec looked haggard and disheveled.
“Good enough,” he said, rolling off the bed and immediately beginning to dress.
That’s it? Dylan didn’t even get to come.
“So when can I start work, Mr. Tyler?” Dylan asked, keeping his legs in the air obediently, his very pretty hole still on display.
“I don’t know yet, boy. We don’t have much available right now. I’ll bring by a colleague from another company to play. Tomorrow, same time.”
“Another new guy?” Dylan said. He seemed to frown but quickly recovered. “Is he rich? That’ll be hot. Do you think he’ll hire me?”
“Maybe if your ass is good enough.”
Dylan lowered his legs and looked a little pissed. The boss left, and Dylan picked up the phone.
“He didn’t offer me a job,” Dylan complained. “This has been fun, but if I’m not getting anything out of it, then I want a daddy who’s better sex.” There was a pause and then he said, “I told you, I’m only into rich guys, but I don’t know. Never say never. Maybe if I keep being obnoxious to him, he’ll take it out on my ass.” He started stroking himself. “He has total access to the house. It would be really hot if he would walk in while I’m sleeping and just start fucking me. That’d be incredible.” There was a pause while his friend said something. “He’s probably not even gay, but I’m gonna jerk off thinking about him,” he said and hung up. Hmm, it seemed like a lot of guys had total access to this house, but maybe he meant me?
He put his legs back in the air and fingered himself with one hand while pulling on his fully hard dick with the other. “No,” he whispered to himself, “You can’t have my hole…” He worked himself up a bit. “Okay! Okay! I give in! I’ll do my best to take your dick, Demetri.”
Uh, holy shit. Did he actually notice the name on my shirt?
I watched his body grind against the sheets, and he muttered “Construction dick” as copious spurts of come shot onto his taut stomach. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning.
I watched him clean himself off with a towel. Then he curled up on his side, still wearing his tie—probably now spattered with jizz.
The next morning my cell phone rang while I was climbing the stairs, and I heard giggling coming from Dylan’s room when I said “Hercules to the rescue.” It was Dylan’s father calling from the Bahamas. I explained that even though the county still hadn’t ta
ken down the tree, we should be able to replace some of the missing two-by-fours and repair the damaged roof joist. But until the tree was safely out of the way, we couldn’t put up insulation or new siding. I mentioned that I might need to do some work in the attic without going into details.
“Is Dylan giving you any trouble?” asked Mr. Cramer.
I decided to lie. “No problem at all.”
Dylan slept on and off for half the day. If he wasn’t snoozing, he was on the phone. He stumbled into our work area nude around noon, half-sloshed. “Can you keep it the fuck down!?” he yelled. “I’m trying to sleep. What are you doing here so early? And why the hell are you chipping away at the wall? You’re supposed to be fixing the hole, not making it wider.”
I gave him a steady look. “Well, see, buddy, dry wall comes in square sheets. So, yes, to make it fit we do need to make your hole wider.”
Alex stifled a snicker as Dylan turned beet red.
“What the fuck ever,” Dylan griped and huffed out. I don’t think he was clearheaded enough to know he was showing off his bare ass. Crazy kid.
Around midafternoon I heard Alex say, “Your boy is up to no good,” as he hammered at the gash. “He’s getting seriously wasted on Daddy’s booze.”
I peered out the hole in the wall and saw Dylan floating around the pool on an inflatable lounge chair, wearing sunglasses and the skimpiest of bikinis. He drifted around with a bottle of some kind of clear liquid. I noticed he kept rubbing his eyes and grimacing like he was crying.
“Geez, what’s wrong with him today?” I said.
“I can tell you,” Alex said. “While you were on the phone, I heard him call someone and whine about a letter saying his college is kicking him out for good. Now he’s sure his dad’s gonna kick him out, too.”
