18+ ONLY. This is explicit fiction. All characters are adults.

New. Never published anywhere before today.

My mouth got there before my brain did. “Twenty thousand dollars?”

The man in the backwards MAGA hat nodded at me.

“Yeah, I can’t do that. I can’t do anything close to that.”

He shrugged, and tapped his business card in my hand, and said “Well, you’re never gonna get anyone willing to do it for less, so you give me a call when you can afford it.”

With that he slouched his way out of the kitchen, and I just sighed in frustration.

I’d met with three different painters at this point, and he wasn’t wrong about his final statement—so far his bid of twenty thousand dollars to repaint my house was the best estimate I’d gotten. It just also happened to be about fifteen thousand dollars more than I could afford at the moment.

I grabbed a protein shake from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table, and thought about how I’d gotten myself into this predicament.

A year ago, my then-partner and I had bought this place—a grand, but neglected old Victorian on the corner of a good neighborhood—with the plan to fix it up ourselves and flip it. The house was a charmer: 1901 construction, beautiful layout, great bones, and a ton of potential. But it also needed a ton of work, most of which we were sure that we could do ourselves. And between our salaries, what we couldn’t do, we could hire. It fit right into our long-term plans, and would be great practice towards building a little empire of fixer-uppers.

But five months ago, Charlie, my ex, had announced that he wasn’t into it anymore—none of it. The house, the plan, the work, and even me. I don’t know all the details because I dumped all my social accounts, but what I’ve heard is that he’s run off to fucking Florida and shacked up with some idiot social media whore we used to make fun of.

Like a fool, I bought him out of his half of the house, figuring I’d finish the place myself, and prove him wrong about everything. So now here I was, the proud sole owner of a half-done renovation that I couldn’t even sell because most of the rooms were only half-sheetrocked, and the outside was so in need of a scrape and a paint that I’d started to get nasty looks from the neighbors. I had wiped out my savings buying his half, so I had just enough money each month to pay the bills, buy basic supplies for the work, and eat like I was a college student again. I had no free cash, half the time, and half the skills I needed to finish the job—I was royally screwed, and not in a good way.

The only places in the house worth being were the kitchen, which I also used as my office for my real job, which is why we hadn’t started renovating it yet, and the gym we’d built out in the detached garage. I had to admit though, in the last five months, boredom and anger had combined to push me past some of my personal bests in the gym. I’d been pretty much celibate since Charlie left, but if I ever got laid again, the lucky dude was gonna find stacked pecs, an eight-pack and an ass you could bounce a fucking quarter off of.

I was just sitting at the table, fiddling with the empty protein shake and the cards the various painters had left when there was a solid knock on the front door.

I leaned back and sighed again, wondering if I should even get up to answer it. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and none of my friends were the “just drop by a construction zone” types. It could be neighbors coming to complain about the house again, or evil girl scouts, here to tempt me with cookies.

Honestly, it was the idea that there might be samoas and thin mints that actually got me to stand up and go answer the damn thing.

When I opened the door, though, what I found was the farthest thing from girl scouts.

Two ginger studs stood before me, big smiles on their faces. Glancing back and forth between the two of them was like looking at before and after pictures—the same haircut, the same way of planting their feet, the same easy grin, separated by about twenty years.

The older one must have been in his late thirties, with a solid construction worker’s bod, and a full auburn beard and mustache. The younger one was maybe a smidge taller, but lean and muscular the way college dudes are before they start really filling in, and clean-shaven. But the way they stood, the way they smiled, the way the younger one squared his shoulders exactly like the older one did—whatever these two were to each other, the kid had clearly spent his whole life studying the man.

“Are you the homeowner here?” the beardy one asked, in a distinctly Bostonian accent.

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I just kind of nodded dumbly. “Uh huh.”

“Well, hey, I’m Paul Thackery, and this is my son, Tony.” He reached out his meaty hand, and we shook, a firm handshake that made my cock twitch in my pants. Jesus, I hoped they couldn’t see that. The kid stuck out his hand, and we shook, and the same damn thing happened.

I could feel myself starting to blush. Fuck, have I lost any kind of chill with hot guys at this point?

“I’m Aaron. Nice to meet you. What can I do for you?”

Paul looked a bit sheepish, and then motioned to his coveralls—painter’s coveralls—and then his truck, which clearly said “Thackery & Sons Painting” on the side.

“Look, I hope this doesn’t sound too presumptuous, but this is on my way to and from the shop, and I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve had some of my competition out here the last couple of days?” He made the last part into a question.

I nodded.

“Getting some quotes?”

I nodded again.

“And I’m bettin’ they were all insanely high.” This was not a question.

I looked away and ran my hand through my hair and shrugged.

“Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

He nodded, and grinned at the kid, and then me.

“Look, I don’t want to waste your time, but would you mind if me and Tony looked around at what you’ve got, and maybe gave you an estimate for us?”

I mean, I couldn’t see why not. I figured there was zero chance they could do the work for what I could afford, but at least I’d get to watch these two studs walk around my house and file away some spankbank material for later.

“Sure, why not?” I moved aside, and let the two men into the house. They each grinned and nodded at me as they stepped past, gestures so eerily similar it was both hot and creepy at the same time.

I started showing them around the foyer, and was about to describe the place, but Paul jumped in.

“I know all about this house, Aaron. The old Henderson place. Built in 1901. Pilings on concrete block foundation. Nearly three thousand square feet…”

He was beaming as he said it, and gave my shoulder a firm friendly squeeze when he saw the look on my face.

“I’ve been drivin’ past this place for years, and always dreamed of buyin’ it and doin’ exactly what you’re doing now. You’re living my dream, man.” He grinned again, brilliant white teeth in that bushy ginger beard.

Tony nodded, with the same grin. “I can vouch. He’s been talkin’ about this place for years.” It was the first time I’d heard him speak—his voice was a touch lower than his dad’s, but with the same easy rhythm to it, and just a hint of the accent.

I showed them all through the place, and we spent a lot of time talking details of work, both original, and the renovations, and what Charlie and I had done so far.

When I mentioned my ex, the two of them just kind of traded a small glance, but didn’t comment on anything.

“But he’s out of the picture now, so it’s just me, and needless to say, my progress has slowed way down.”

They traded a glance again, and just kinda nodded, but didn’t make eye contact with me.

“Well, why don’t we go look at the outside?” said Paul.

“Uh, sure.” I led them out through the kitchen door, and we slowly walked around the place, again noting all the things that needed work. I took them back to the detached garage, to show them the paint and supplies that I already had, but when I rolled up the door, they both let out a whistle.

“Damn, look at this setup!” exclaimed Tony. His dad nodded.

“Looks like you’ve got a proper gym setup back here.”

I nodded. I was proud of the gym. Heck, it was the only part of the house that was worth showing off.

“No wonder…” Tony started, and then stopped. His dad laughed. “Yeah, no wonder he looks like that, huh?”

He clapped me on the shoulder again, and squeezed, and grinned at me like an idiot for a minute. Tony was beaming at me, too, but would only meet my eyes for a moment before looking away, blushing.

And let me state for the record, while we’d been walking around, I’d done my best to scope out these two studs on the downlow. And studs they were. Paul was probably an inch taller than me, at 6’1,” and maybe a bit more than my 210, but in all the right ways. Tony was, like I said, a bit taller than his dad, but probably 170 or 180—nothing to be ashamed of, and clearly a frame that, with a little work, could get stacked like his dad or me.

But what I really couldn’t help noticing about the men was the ample bulges they both packed in the crotch, and their meaty, round asses. While Paul was wearing his painting coveralls, Tony was just in jeans and a tee, but they were both fit and hung and hot as hell.

“So whaddya think?” Paul asked me.

“Me? Buddy, I haven’t even heard your estimate yet. You seem like really good guys, but this is a big project, and I just don’t have a ton of budget for it. Honestly, I’m probably gonna have to do this myself.”

Paul nodded, and looked around. He looked at Tony a while, and then turned to me.

“Here’s the thing Aaron: we need a good gig. I just broke away from Cisco’s, ya know, to start my own business? I know you got a quote from him.” I nodded; I had—Cisco had been out here two days ago, and quoted me thirty grand, a complete nonstarter.

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Paul nodded at Tony. “And I need to apprentice him. He graduated in the spring and he’s been dicking around all summer, and I gotta keep him out of trouble and teach him a trade. Unless he decides to go off to college, in which case I’m fucked.”

“What about your other sons?” I asked.

Paul looked at me like I was crazy.

“You know, ‘Thackery and Sons, Painters’, like it says on your truck.”

They both burst out laughing, and Paul shook his head.

“Naw, man, I just did that because ‘Thackery and Son’ sounded stupid. No-one ever says it like that. It’s always ‘and sons’, ya know?”

I joined their laughter, and we shared a small moment, grinning at each other.

“Well, ok. Look. I like you guys. But like I said, I’m on a crazy tight budget. What’s your estimate?”

Paul nodded again. “I know all these guys in town. I bet I could tell you what each one of them quoted you. And I’m betting the lowest you got was twenty K, right?”

He looked at me with his piercing blue eyes, and I just shrugged, but he knew he was right.

“We can do it for ten. It’ll be great training for him, and it’ll be portfolio work for us. We’ll do our best work. It’s a screaming deal, Aaron.”

I nodded. I looked at these hot guys. In a very short time I’d kinda gotten used to the idea that I might be seeing them work on the house for the next month or so. But my mind kept spinning on the numbers. There was just no way to make it work. I had five grand for this, max.

I ran my hand through my hair a couple times, and Paul must have seen it on my face.

I shook my head, and goddamnit if they both didn’t look crestfallen.

“I’m sorry, guys. Paul. Tony. I’ve got five grand for this project, and I guess that’s just gonna be me and the paint. I’m sorry.”

Paul looked up at me, again with those blue eyes.

“No shittin’?”

“Paul. You don’t know me, yet. I’m not bullshitting. This isn’t a negotiating tactic. I get how what you’re offering is a more than fair price. But look, when I bought Charlie out of his half of this place, it took everything I had. I was crazy to think five grand would be enough, but…”

I stopped talking, and we all stood there in silence for a couple of minutes.

Paul clapped his son on the shoulder.

“Well, buddy, we tried.” Tony nodded, looking glum.

We shook hands, and I walked them back up to the front of the house. We made a little small talk, but it was clear that we were all feeling let down. I shook their hands again, and waved as they got into their truck and drove away.

And then I went inside and cried for a minute, made tuna and pasta for dinner for the millionth time, watched some stupid tv in bed, and then jerked off thinking about Paul and Tony and went to sleep.

A couple of days later I was in the gym in the garage, getting a solid sweat on while I worked out my continued frustrations. I had just finished a punishing series of squats, and was re-racking weights and thinking about cutting the workout short, when a knocking sound caught my attention over a break in the music.

I looked up, and Paul was leaning against the frame of the big roll-up garage door, with a six-pack of beer in one hand. He waved, a bright smile on his face. I had to admit, he looked damn good—he was wearing a snug-fitting set of painter coveralls, and a cutoff tee underneath so the whole of his muscular arms were showing.

I popped out my earbuds and waved. I had the distinct impression that he might have been watching my last set for a couple of minutes.

“Hey, Aaron! Hope I’m not interrupting?” He trailed off and nodded towards the squat rack.

I waved him over.

“Naw, man, come on in. I was just thinking about knocking off for the day, so, you know. Good timing.” I smiled.

I was genuinely glad to see the guy, but a little bit embarrassed to think about what I’d been doing to his hunky ginger dad bod in my fantasies lately.

He walked in, and I pointed to the minifridge I had in the gym.

“Smart man” he said, and stashed the beer in the fridge.

“Goddamn this is a great setup you’ve got here.”

“Thanks, man. Sometimes I think it’ the only thing keeping me sane, you know? Come in here and lift heavy things until I fall over and sleep.”

He laughed. “I know what you mean better than you think.”

“Can I?” he asked, nodding towards the dumbbell rack.

“Knock yourself out.” I said.

He stepped up and grabbed the 75s, and then proceeded to knock out a solid set of twelve. I drank my water and gave myself permission to fully watch this stud get his flex on. It was hot as hell.

He re-racked and I laughed and said, “Damn, daddy’s got some guns!”

His eyebrows shot up, and then he threw his head back and laughed.

“Yeah, I might be a little older than you, but I still got some swag.”

“Yeah, you do, Paul.” I don’t know where it came from, but I winked at him.

Maybe I did still have some game.

“You want a beer?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Sure, I guess I’m done for the day, and I can afford a beer or two.”

He moved to the minifridge and said “Well, I brought a sixpack so you’re doin’ three.”

We laughed, and cracked out beers, and clinked the cans.

I showed him more around the gym, and then we settled down and sat and just shot the shit for a while.

It was nice. He was easy to talk to. Easy to look at, too, but I kept trying to drag my mind away from that, and from that massively overstuffed crotch.

He asked about the house, and I fell into explaining my vision for the place. He nodded along, and made some insightful comments, and had a couple of good ideas. I could tell that he really did love the place. He got what I was trying to do with it.

By our second beer I had slipped into talking about Charlie, and it was like talking to a buddy. He asked about what got us together, and what broke us up. He nodded in all the right places, and was righteously angry on my behalf.

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I finally got up the balls and asked him about his wife.

He arched an eyebrow, and shook his head.

“Naw, man. No wife. Not for a long time.” I was surprised.

“But Tony?” I asked, somewhat stupidly.

“Oh, yeah, I had a wife. Back when I was about his age I was dumb as hell and figured that’s just what you did—met a woman with a baby on her hip, decided I’d be the guy who stuck, and we got hitched. Didn’t last. For a lot of reasons. She left when he was three and she didn’t take him with her, and I raised him on my own ever since.”

“Oh, shit, man, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be! Way better this way. I get to live my life, and he’s a great kid. A great man, now, I guess since he’s nineteen. A little too much like me, ya know? But great anyways.” He smiled a self-deprecating smile, and it was sexy on him.

“He walks like you, Paul. Same everything.”

He laughed, a big guffaw. “Don’t I know it. I called him mini-me until the fucker grew an inch taller than I am!”

We cracked our third beers, and I was feeling a pleasant buzz.

“He really likes you, you know?”

I nearly choked on my beer a minute.

“Uh, what?”

“Tony. He likes you. I can tell. Couldn’t stop talkin’ about you when we left the other day. He was sad he couldn’t come back and get to know you better.”

I nodded, took a swig of beer, and for the life of me could not think of how to respond to this.

Paul nodded, a gleam in his eye now. He leaned back a bit, and I swear to god there was a fuckin’ snake in the front of his snug-fit coveralls.

“Plus, me and him, we’re so much alike we got the same type, ya know?”

What the fuck was happening?

“Oh, yeah?” It was literally the only thing I could think to say.

Paul took a swig of beer, and then bit his lip in a sexy way, and looked at me with those blue eyes. Like, LOOKED at me.

“Ayup. We both love pretty muscle studs with bouncy tits and a big ol’ bubble butt.”

“Jesus, fuck!” I couldn’t think of what to do. I chugged the rest of my beer, and then stomped over to the fridge and grabbed a water, and chugged that, too.

Paul stood up, and took a couple of steps towards me. I couldn’t not look. There was a huge, fat pipe stretching the front of his coveralls.

He frowned and stepped towards me, and grabbed my shoulder, firmly. I was suddenly self-conscious that I wasn’t wearing a shirt, and god help me if my pecs didn’t flex involuntarily a couple of times, bouncing around like they wanted him to notice them.

“Aaron. Fuck. Man, I’m sorry, I…” He trailed off, but we kept looking at each other.

“I really hope I didn’t offend you. I just…I had an idea the other day, and I wanted to come over here to talk it through to see if it might work.”

I didn’t move. Between his eyes and the musky scent of sweat coming off of him, I didn’t really want to.

“Yeah?” was all I said.

“Well, look. I was thinking we could work out…a kind of a deal. Like some kind of barter or something. Figure out how to make this whole thing work, ya know?”

I didn’t say anything, but he was on a roll. Between the beer, and adrenaline, he had to keep going.

“Look, five grand…isn’t a lot, but it’s enough for all the rest of the paint we need, and the supplies. This place needs a really great paint job, something worthy of this house, you know? And we need a portfolio gig, something we can really show off.”

I was listening to him, I swear I was. But I was also noticing a lot of things, up close. Like how full his beard was. How plump his lips were. How thick his arms were. That giant fucking salami stretching out his crotch. A lot of things.

He took another step towards me, and squeezed my shoulder.

“And I need a place I can keep Tony out of trouble, and teach him how to do a good job. And I need to make sure he doesn’t make some of the same mistakes I made, ya know?”

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“So, what’s the deal then?”

He paused.

“Well, I gotta take other jobs during the day, of course. But I was thinking evenings and weekends me and Tony we come over here, and we do the job. For five grand. I figure it’ll take us eight to nine weeks inside and out, but we can do it.”

I was nodding, but waiting for the other half.

“And…?” I asked.

“And, maybe you let us use your gym here a bit. Maybe show Tony how to really lift, like you do.”

I nodded, but I knew there was more. I could feel it.

“And…?”

He stepped closer, and slid an arm around my shoulder.

“And…I need you to teach Tony how to fuck.” He practically whispered it in my ear.

What the fuck??

“What the fuck?” I spluttered. “You want me to teach your son how to fuck a guy?”

He nodded, a giant grin on his face, like this was the most brilliant idea ever.

“And me.” He said.

I half shoved him away.

“What the actual fuck, Paul?”

“I mean, not teach me! Not teach me. I know how to fuck. Believe me, I know exactly what to do.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Are you kidding me? Your deal to me is that I’ll pay you five grand, and then you and your son fuck me for money?!”

“Aaron! No! Not like that at all! No, I’m saying, five grand buys all the supplies we need. And then me and Tony do our best work painting on this beautiful house, and then we all have some fun in the process. You help me keep Tony from knocking up some random chick, and you knock the cobwebs off and forget about that fuckin’ chump Charlie who fucked you over.”

My mind was spinning. I was insulted. I was infuriated. I mean, this was practically prostitution. But, fuck. Goddamnit to hell. It was also an incredibly good deal, and godfuckingdaminit it was the hottest thing I could possibly imagine. Which, let’s be honest, I had actually been imagining for the last three days while wanking my dick alone.

“So, how would this even work? You guys come over in the afternoons, paint for a couple of hours, and then I serve up spaghetti and meatballs for dinner and for dessert you and your son take turns plowing me?”

I was joking but as I said it, my dick throbbed and my brain melted a bit.

He pulled me back into a tight side hug.

“Something like that. However you wanted to do it.” He laughed. “I hadn’t even thought of dinner, but that part does sound nice.”

I grunted in laughter.

“Look, Aaron, you want to do this. Trust me. I know people. You want to do this.”

“I do?”

He ran his big hand up my eight pack and then very, very gently brushed my nipple with his thumb.

“First of all, don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were eyefucking both of us the other day when we were here.”

“I…”

“Don’t deny it, Aaron. It’s cool. You think we’re both sexy. We both think you’re the hottest guy we’ve ever met.”

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“Second, this works out for all of us. We all get something really good out of this.”

He pinched my nipple lightly, and gave a soft laugh when he saw me shudder.

“And third, I can tell you want this because you are hard as a rock and dripping like a faucet right now.” With that, he lightly thumped a finger against my dick a couple of times, which was, as he said, hard as steel and leaking enough precum to make a giant spot on the front of my shorts.

I looked up, and he had me pinned in the gaze of his sexy blue eyes.

Before I knew what was happening, Paul pulled me in and planted a big, hungry kiss on me. It’s silly, but I think I gasped, which made him chuckle while continuing his assault on my lips.

My resistance melted, and I gave in, returning the kiss with passion. He felt the change, and nodded and grunted his approval, and we shifted to bring our bodies closer together, my hard cock rubbing against his giant coveralls-bound python.

With one hand he grabbed the back of my head and held it still while he worked his tongue down my throat, and the other slid down my back and began cupping my ass. He moaned as he massaged my hard, swole butt.

I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually I had the sense to pull away and hit the button to close the garage door. It rumbled down and gave us privacy from anyone who might we walking by in the alley.

“Holy fuck.” I said.

He laughed and said “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinkin’.”

He pulled me back into him, and slid his hands into my shorts, under my jock, sliding them both down until my dick popped free, bouncing around like crazy.

“Hot damn! Not just great tits and ass, but a fuckin’ nice piece, too.”

Before I could even think, he had dropped to his knees and engulfed my dick in his mouth. The feeling was incredible. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a decent beej, and this guy was just going for it, right off the bat. I looked down and this fucking hot muscle daddy construction-type guy was bobbing up and down on my cock, and slipping off the top of his coveralls and his cutoff tee.

I looked down at his muscled shoulders and arms, covered in ginger fuzz, and had to stop myself from cumming right then and there. This was like a fantasy come to life, and I couldn’t believe it.

I pulled my dick out of his mouth, and reached down to pull him up to his feet. He stood up, and we started making out again, a long, deep session like both of us needed the oxygen from each other’s lungs to live.

I pushed down his coveralls, and reached for his dick. And holy fucking hell—what a goddamn cock! I pulled away in disbelief to verify what my hands were feeling. This was the fattest fucking uncut ginger monster dick—easily more than ten inches long, with a fat purple head that was shining and slick where his foreskin had pulled back to reveal that giant mushroom. Thick veins ran down the sides, and he had fucking goose-egg sized fat pink nuts, all nestled in a fiery bush of pubes. I couldn’t wrap my hand around the base of it, it was so fucking thick.

“Jesus Christ, dude!”

I looked up at him and he was beaming like the fucking cat that ate the canary.

“I know, right? It’s something.”

“Fuck, dude, fuck painting, you could have a career in porn with this monster.”

He just laughed and shrugged. “Not really my style, though. Besides, I like painting.”

We laughed, and I just kept stroking that monster dick as it got harder and harder.

I sank down to my knees, and kissed the head, gently licking off the cocksnot that was drooling off his monster dong.

“Fuck yeah, Aaron. Suck that cock. It fuckin’ wants you so bad, man.”

I looked up at him, meeting his sexy blue eyes.

“Yeah?”

He shook his head. “You have no fuckin’ idea, buddy. You have no idea how bad I want this.”

I mean, the guy was hot as fuck. But the idea of him wanting me this badly? Jesus, that was a turn-on that set my body on fire. He rubbed my shoulders and arms while I was rimming my tongue under his foreskin, and every place he touched me was electric.

I shifted forward, and took more of his dick into my mouth. He hissed with pleasure. Slowly I began exploring his whole giant dick with my hands and my mouth. Tugging on his giant nuts, taking his fat piece deeper and deeper each time.

Soon enough I was choking on his fat hog, and he was gently thrusting, egging me on, hands running across my hair and neck and shoulders. I could tell he was loving this, and between that feeling of making him feel so good, and the amazing feel and scent of his giant ginger dick, I was in a cock frenzy, hammering my esophagus with his fat mushroom head.

I shoved forward, and opened wide, and finally his thick cockhead popped through, deep into my throat. He gave a little yell, and grabbed me by the throat, and started repeatedly pulling his dick out, and then popping it back into my gullet. My throat was being shredded, but I didn’t care. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever felt.

It took us both by surprise, but suddenly he was hollering like a madman, and ramming his massive dick as far down my throat as he could get it. My mouth was stretched wider than ever before, my jaw aching, and my nose buried so deep in his pubes I couldn’t even breathe.

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With a grunt and a shudder, he was shooting what felt like burning hot magma right down my throat. Six huge shots, each pulse so long that it felt like he was pissing hot, thick syrup. He was helpless in his fuck, practically choking me out with his hands, and unloading his babies from the deepest fucking part of him directly into my gullet.

With the seventh pulse, he pulled out enough to coat my mouth with hot, rich, salty, sweet cum. I gulped it down eagerly, and then suckled out the eighth, ninth, and tenth jets as his cock slowly lost power and finished.

I deep throated him again, and then pulled off, milking the last drops of jizz from his powerhose dick.

He pulled me to my feet, and dove in to start eating my face, kissing me so hard it was like I was under attack.

“That was. The BEST. FUCKING. Blowjob. I have EVER HAD!”

We were laughing, and he must’ve gotten dizzy, because suddenly his legs went out a bit, and we were falling onto the bench. I was straddling it, and he leaned over to kick off his boots and the rest of his coveralls so that he could straddle it facing me. He pulled me to him, practically up onto his lap.

“Aaron. Buddy. That was fuckin’ insane. You’re amazing!”

We laughed some more, and made out for a while like that, smelling the funk of our sex and our sweat.

After a while, he patted me on the shoulder, and said, “OK, just one more thing…”

He stood up, his huge prong pulsing back to life, and kind of half-lifted, half-flipped me onto my stomach over the bench so my ass was sticking up.

He let out a whistle of admiration.

“Brace yourself, Aaron. I just gotta eat the fuck outta this ass. This might take a while.”

I laughed, but before I could move or object or say anything, he had dropped to his knees and was buried beard deep in my sweaty ass crack. His fat, hot tongue connected with my hole, and I yelped in surprise.

Now, I’ve had my ass eaten before. Many times. But not like this…nothing had ever been like this. He was feasting, pillaging, delighting and destroying. He was using his tongue, and teeth, and beard, and nose, and chin. Every fucking part of his face was fucking my ass. He was moaning, singing into my asshole, making it vibrate and shatter any shred of remaining reluctance I had.

Before I knew what was happening, he had made the masterful switch, pulling his face off of my lust-mangled hole and deftly sliding his fat monster cock into place.

By this point I was insane with lust. I was begging him in every language I knew and some that I didn’t to plow my ass and fill me with his sons. And god almighty could this man fuck. He went from gentle warmup strokes to deep jackhammer pistoning and beyond.

His huge hands were wrapped on my hips, and I was babbling and moaning in delight. The garage reverberated with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, his hot dick plunging in and out of my hole.

I was clinging to the bench under me for dear life when it happened. His giant dick, which had been going ever deeper into my hole, popped through that magical back place. He hit the spot that Charlie could hit that made me crazy—and then he kept going, his fat purple cockhead driving into uncharted territory that sent me into a frenzy.

A hot, dense, swirling feeling started deep in my guts and then exploded through me, shattering my vision into a billion shooting stars. A part of me nearly lost consciousness, but the rest of me felt nothing but the gigantic pulsing orgasm as I involuntarily coated the rubber flooring under me in hot pools of cum.

I slowly came back to my senses, and realized Paul was still hammering his giant ginger dick into my ass. I don’t know if I’d thought he’d stop, but he was like a madman, ploughing forward, damn the consequences.

I gripped the bench, and god help me, I am telling no lie, another wave of ass-orgasm swept over me, and I shot another huge load onto the mat. It was like I was pissing cum, spurt after endless spurt. Once again, I nearly blacked out, but I held on, and still he kept pile driving me.

Two more times he sent insane waves of orgasmic pleasure exploding through me, and I added what must have been a gallon of nutjuice to the floor.

Finally, I hit a point where I was…I mean, not fearing for my life…but just wondering if there was a limit to how much pleasure I could take, when I decided to fight back.

I gripped the bench, and started pushing my bubble butt back into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. We were both panting like we were running a race, but it was like a workout—I had to meet the moment with strength.

I started squeezing my hole against his dick with each pull out, then loosening it as he thrust ever-deeper into me. I was sucking on his giant dick with my asshole, and it was driving him insane. I kept at it, building up my sphincter, squeezing, and sucking, and ramming back into him, and finally it worked. He started screaming like a monster, pounding even deeper and harder, and then boom! At exactly the same moment, another wave of insane fireworks exploded through me, and with a huge yell he began unloading his thick daddy jizz deep, deep inside of me.

I couldn’t count how many jets he fired into me, or how long it went on for. We were locked like that; his dick firing thick hot lava cum into me, triggering another jet of cum from me, which made my hole spasm, triggering another scalding flood of lava from him.

Eventually the bench slid out from under us, and we fell onto the floor, into the lake of cum I shot here. He ran his hand through it, and laughed, and sucked it off his fingers.

“Mmmmm, sweet!”

We laughed, and it felt good. Goddamn, it felt really, really good.

We kissed for a while, and smeared cum on each other for a minute, and then dragged ourselves upright. I stumbled to the fridge and grabbed us each a water, and a clean workout rag so that we could wipe ourselves off.

We put our clothes back on, and then Paul pulled me in for another kiss. He pulled back after a minute and looked at me, piercing me once again with those blue eyes.

“So…?”

“That was…uh…fucking amazing.” I stammered.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed. I started laughing with him, and the truth is, I knew what I wanted to do, as crazy as it seemed.

I stuck out my hand. “Fine.”

“We’ve got a deal?”

“Yep, we’ve got a deal.”

He grabbed my hand and shook on it, and then pulled me in for another long kiss.

After he left, I cleaned up the garage, and headed into the house. The evening air seemed to vibrate with peace and relaxation.

Tomorrow afternoon Paul and Tony would come over to start painting, and then…who knew what would happen?

I smiled, and thought, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?

Chapter Two: the painting starts, and Tony comes with him.

⁂

I’m Chadwick Boone. I write about working men who aren’t as straight as they look. I take my time—that’s the whole trick.

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