September, 2001. Just days after the attack on the twin towers actually.
Having slogged my guts out for three months in the offices of a local
insurance firm (in an attempt to stabilize my student overdraft), I was
headed back to university. I won’t say which one, but it’s in a big
English city, and it’s a good one, ha ha! I was about to start the second
year of my degree. My first year had been spent in a halls of
residence; sink in the room, always fearful of a cleaner knocking on the door when you
were mid-wank, and a nightmare to bring anyone back to. Although, believe
me, I managed to. That’s probably a story for another time, though.
I’d decided to move into a house with five other friends. We’d found it in
the January, and while it wasn’t the nicest house, it was certainly the
biggest, and we realized that with a bit of work, it was a bargain.
Anyway. During the summer, my mate Ben and I had been to the house to
actually sign the contracts and collect the keys. The letting agents also
made us agree to a million and one clauses, and said that if there was
anything that needed to be done in the property, to go round, look at it,
and make a note of anything that needed doing. We did, and there was a
fair amount. And then, off we went to enjoy the rest of our respective
summers.
Me (just turned 20 at the time, rugby player’s build, about 5ft 11 tall,
with dirty blond hair and blue eyes), I arrived at the property a whole
seven days before anyone else. Great! I get to make my mark, have some
quality time alone etc… The reality, nothing’s been done by the letting
agents, it’s filthy, cold and there’s no-one there. It was a Sunday night,
so I spent it alone, cold, shivering, and deciding to kill our letting
agents — first thing Monday morning.
Monday morning comes, and one terse phone call later, and they say they’ll
send someone round. Thirty minutes later, Carl arrives. To “have a look”
at things. He realizes, fairly quickly, that there’s going to be some real
work needing doing, and that it’ll be easier if he does it, and can do
things in a logical order, but that it might take the best part of the
week. I don’t mind. Carl’s a nice guy; not much older than me, about
23/24, and a typical laborer type guy. About 5ft 9 tall, average build,
and wearing the uniform of battered, paint-covered jeans, heavy boots, and
a different t-shirt each day. He’d also got something of quite a cute
smile, and I remember the first night after he’d gone, with the power
reconnected, as I lay there wanking in my new bed, as I shot my load all
over my stomach and chest, it was Carl I could see in my mind.
Two days later, and we’ve developed into a routine. I get quite good at
making cups of tea, he’s sorted my room out, I’m doing bits of painting.
There’s a nice rhythm. I’ve found out loads about him. He’s got a
girlfriend, she’s pestering to be his fiance. He’s fascinated by
university, and student life in general. The part of the routine he’s not
aware of is that I have to keep slipping off to my room to wank
myself
crazy thinking about getting down on my knees in front of him. Later on,
that Wednesday, things changed — and by design, not by accident.
I knew that at the end of the day, he’d do what he always did — knock on
my door, and enter straight away, tell me he’s going, and leave the keys.
As I can hear him packing up his tools, I prepare myself. I stick a gay
porn video (it was 2001!) on, and take off my jeans and boxers. I find I’m
practically hard anyway, in anticipation. My cock is, thick, uncut, about
8 inches long, and I get loads of precum, and seem to be permanently horny.
I lie back on my bed, and start wanking away. I have to fight not to cum;
just the thought and knowledge that he’s about to walk in and see me gets
me so turned on. Seconds later, there’s a knock at the door, he pushes it
open, and sees me, stopping dead in his tracks.
“Oh, fuck, sorry, I thought it’d be okay,” he says, not knowing where
to look. I sit up, and partially cover my cock, but leave the TV on.
“It’s fine, sorry, my fault,” I say. “I should show more control.”
“Nah, it’s your house, you do what you like,” he says, as I notice he
furtively glances at my cock, and the scene on the TV — a young guy
getting spit-roasted by a swimming pool.
“I’ll avoid it in future,” I say. He smiles.
“Anyway, I’m off, see you tomorrow, half eight,” he says, and turns and
leaves. I don’t know what I was expecting. That the nearly fiance and him
being straight would evaporate and he’d lie down and start sucking my cock,
but I was still mega horny. I starting pumping my cock, slick with precum,
bucking my hips up and down off the bed. What felt like a bomb going off
was actually shot after shot of hot white cum firing off and hitting my
neck, face, lips and torso. I licked a lot of it off, and got on with my
evening.
The next day, things got stranger. At about 11am, I walked into the
bathroom, and he was standing over the toilet, cock out and wanking. I was
absolutely speechless. He’d caught me at my own game. His jeans and
boxers were pulled down to his mid-thigh, and he was pumping a very
respectable cock with his right hand.
“Sorry, mate,” he said, smiling. “Guess we’re about even now.” I stare,
motionless as he works his cock, making no attempt to cover it. By now,
he’s obviously worked out I’m gay, but I wonder what his game his. He’s
standing there wanking, and after a few seconds, I turn, leave and leave
him to it. I head back to my own room, and am speechless. And raging
hard. About ten minutes later, I hear him coming up the stairs, and
quickly pull my cock out, sit on my computer chair and start wanking, and
rubbing my balls too. He does his regular knock-and-enter trick. I don’t
stop, carry on rubbing precum into the head of my
cock with my thumb. He watches me now.
“This is becoming a bit of a habit, isn’t it?” he says.
“When you have to, you have to,” I reply. I start really kneading
my balls now, and he seems fairly transfixed. He makes some remark about the boiler
being off for a bit, and I tell him I’ll be down in about five minutes to
make lunch. To top this off, and feeling daring, I slip a precum-soaked
finger into my mouth and suck it off. I see him visibly stunned by this,
but he turns and leaves. I decide not to finish myself off, but, five
minutes later head downstairs and into the kitchen where he’s doing some
ceiling wiring.
There follows a tense five minutes as I put lunch together. We sit down —
as we have done every other day — for lunch and eat. Half way through
this silent, nervous meal he pipes up.
“Hope you washed your hands, mate,” Carl says with a grin. I shrug.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” I quip, and he laughs.
Meal half-eaten, I decide to take the lead. I stand up, unbuckle my belt,
and undo the top of my jeans.
“Sorry, mate, I feel like I have to,” I say, and he nods. I pull them
right down and take them off, massaging my hard cock through my boxers. I
slip these off and sit back down, and start wanking. In my kitchen, at the
table, in broad daylight.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, and just unzips, and pulls his substantial
cock out and starts working it. We sit, watching each other wanking. I
get bolder and bolder, rubbing my balls, and he follows the lead. I rub
precum right down my cock, and his eyes widen. His cock looks to be about
seven inches long, thick and fleshy, uncut, and surrounded by a set of dark
pubes, and sitting on a pair of good balls that I’d love to get my mouth
round.
“We could be comfier than this?” I say, more as a testing-the-water
question than anything else. He nods in agreement, and so I stand up and
walk to my room, and he follows. By the time I’m there, he’s shrugged off
his jeans and boxers and shoes, so we both stand facing each
other, wanking together. I press play on the video, and the gay porn film starts.
“This not freak you out?” I ask, and he just shakes his head. I lie on my
bed and he lies next to me. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to just
lean over and kiss me. Straight, I presumed, he might let me wank him off,
then mumble an apology, and leave (hey, it’s happened before) and never
mention it again. Instead I kiss him back and we lean into each other, our
cocks rubbing together. He shudders as they slide over each other slick
with precum.
I figure he might not last long, and know that I won’t, and thinking that
this will be a one off, I pull away, interrupting out two hands skidding all
over each others’ cocks. I push him back on the bed, and straddle
his legs, and slowly lower myself over him. Slowly enough so that he can see
what I’m about to do, and stop me if he wants. He doesn’t. Tentatively, I
lick the head of his cock.
It’s warm and sticky with precum, and I lap it
up. He moans, as I slide the head of his dick into my mouth. I start
sliding up and down his cock, rubbing his balls at the same time, as he
lightly grips my head and starts thrusting up into my mouth. I wank him
off, running my tongue up and down his cock.
“I’m cumming,” he warns me and I sort of grunt and nod at the same time.
The first blast of his warm cum hits the back of my throat. The second and
third fill my mouth, and I pull of as he continues to fire off all over my
face, just the way I like it. I swallow, as he gasps for breath. I sit
up, and with a few strokes on my own straining dick, I unload all over his
cock, balls and thighs. He just smiles as I do this.
The clean-up and the aftermath were pain-free. Not awkward or anything.
In fact, we went for it again, as he’d finished for the day. This time in
the lounge. Wanking each other side by side on the sofa, and he
tentatively licked my cock. That was the Thursday. On the Saturday my
housemates would arrive, so the Friday was his last day working at our
place.
We made the most of it. In between him finishing his jobs, we took turns
wanking and sucking each other. He turned out to be really good at giving
head, and not timid at all. Just a horny time, sharing each others’ loads,
not talking about whether he was gay, bi or whatever. The day finished
with him fucking me; hard, but with a trace of tenderness from behind on my
bed, and wanking me off as he did it. I loved his cock, sucking it, and
loved him firing his loads off all over my face, I loved the taste of him.
I also thought that when he left — after a kiss actually — on the Friday,
that would be it. He’d carry on being a handyman, I’d be a student. Maybe
I’d have do deliberately kick in a cupboard, and hope they’d send him!
Either way, I didn’t expect there to be a bit of an epilogue….
Two months later (dark, freezing cold November), on a Saturday night, my
mobile went off, by my bed. I have the sort of slightly stressed friends
who can/will/do phone at all hours of the day or night, mid-crisis. Hence,
I didn’t check the number, just answered, very groggy.
“Hello,” I said.
“That Andy?” he asked. I checked the number — I didn’t recognize it.
“It’s Carl,” he said. I was tired, and not really with it. There must
have been a pause. “From the company. I did your repairs when you moved
in.” The penny dropped and I was wide awake.
He was outside my house. It was about 3am and raining hard. I went and
opened the door and he came in. We had to be silent. Two of my
housemates were asleep, and the others were away. We went into the dimly
lit lounge. He said he hadn’t got much time, he’d been on a night out etc.
I sat on the sofa, he stood over me, taking his jacket off. Instinctively,
I reached up for the button on his jeans, and pulled them down. Pulling
his hard cock towards me with my hand, he started slowly fucking my face,
standing over me, resting his hands on the wall. We moved the floor, with
me on my knees, sucking him hard and fast. We swapped over, and then 69ed
for a bit. Then, he shocked me.
“Fuck me,” he demanded. “Please, before I change my mind.” I didn’t
hesitate. He was fumbling with his wallet. I found a condom, slid it on,
and slicked up his tight, hairless hole with his own precum. I didn’t meet
with as much resistance as I thought I might, and I realized that he’s
either been fucked before, or practicing on his own. I fucked him. Hard,
fast, and with deep strokes, as he clenched his arse round my cock. Pretty
soon I unloaded, filling the condom. He pulled off me, and stood up.
Roughly, he grabbed my head, and shoved his cock into my mouth. A few thrusts
later and he gasped, bursting and filling my mouth with strands of
warm cum. I swallowed the lot.
The next bit happened very quickly. He phoned a cab, we got dressed. We
chatted. We were both fine. He was “all good” he said. The cab arrived.
We had a brief kiss. He left, I silently tiptoed back to bed.
As I lay their, with the rain beating on the roof, I thought that as long
he was okay with everything, then so was I. Content, and with empty balls,
I drifted off to sleep.
And that, reader, was the last time I ever saw him.
The End
