Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Message-ID: 093_9508182112@tor250.org Organization: Gateway: * D.u.N * iNViSiBLe CouNTRy -+ DuNDaS, oNT. CaNaDa +- Lines: 232
Sometimes there are "fringe benefits" to a job that you never even think of. Like the time Jon's mom asked me to paint their kitchen one weekend for $3 an hour or $25, whichever was less. I thought it would be a nice diversion to watch Jon while I worked--a lot less boring than doing yard work for sexy Mrs. Paradis--but really the money was the thing that made me accept.
I knew Jon from school, of course--you couldn't help noticing him, he's the shortest kid in the school. He was in his sophomore year, so I didn't see him much...only a glimpse in the hall now and then. But that glimpse was enough to keep you going for the whole day. He was kind of small, and puny--I don't mean he was little; I mean there were French hilites to him, nice soft skin everywhere you looked. He had cute freckles and a tight ass that you could watch forever. Sad blue eyes looked out of a round face, and a cute red mouth. His hair was blond and short, but curled under at the back of his neck. No sharp edges anywhere. When he first came to the school, I thought he'd cause a riot. New glands weren't strong enough for the strain of watching him sway back and forth down the hall. I remember the time he was wearing a Brett Hull jersey one day as he walked past the athletic field. Three guys at football drowned in their own hormones. Oh that reminds me of the time he puked at a track meet. He was the fastest kid on legs. That's how he got the nickname Jon "Pukey" Paradis. Even his name was great--Jon. The last name wasn't so great: Paradis. Jon...Paradis. Oh well. On a spring day, hanging out with the guys, all you had to do was sigh, "Jon," and they all knew what you meant.
Anyway, when Mrs. Paradis asked me to paint her kitchen, the money was all I really thought about. It would be nice to see Jon, but I had conditioned myself not to hope for too much. Too many nights of aching need had left me a little older and more cynical. I never expected anything to happen between him and me.
I came to their house in my shorts and T-shirt. (One of the great things about doing odd jobs is you have an excuse to walk around in people's nice houses dressed like a slob.) Mrs. Paradis was just getting ready to leave for an Open House across town--she was a real estate agent which was keeping the money coming in--Mr. Paradis works as a lawyer, wow, I mean this kid's rich. His dad even coaches Jon's Dundas Bantam hockey team.
"By the way," she said over her shoulder, "Jon will be helping you." I shouldn't have been surprised. By the pay I mentioned earlier, you could tell Mrs. Paradis was on the cheap side. She was getting Jon to help to make sure I came in under 25 dollars. Almost on cue, Jon came into the hall in denim jeans and a T-shirt and a white painter's cap I bet he bought just for that day. He even had his hair tucked under his hat. He really didn't think he was going to get any paint on himself. I heaved a sigh, silently hoped he'd screw things up enough so it would cost $25 anyway, and set to work.
I worked on the ceiling and he worked on the lower cabinets. I pretended it was to save him from straining himself, but the real reason was to watch him bending over. I wasn't concentrating at all, and I had to clean up mistakes more than once. Jon was feeling pretty saucy, and teased me about my sloppiness and his own impeccable work. He wasn't getting any paint on himself either, after all. I was getting badly tempted to put some on him. For a moment I sensed something going on behind me. I turned around and he was pretending to paint my rear end with a roller. "I'm fixing your face," he said. I reached over with my brush and swatted him on his little nose. He yelped as if he had been bitten. "Get it off!" he cried. "Relax, it's just a little paint." "Get it off! It's going to hurt my nose!" I wet a towel in the sink and carefully wiped off his nose. He was pouting like a hurt little child. "Is that better?" For an answer, he grinned like a wolf and hit me full in the face with a loaded paintbrush.
After about three hours (only $9!) I had to admit that we were done. We got everything together and took it into the backyard to wash out. They had a big backyard with high walls--at least 8 feet--and a patio, and a lawn with soft green grass, warmed by the summer sun. We took the garden hose and rinsed out the painting tools, and then our hands (and face). I gave Jon the hose and watched him wash the one bit of paint he got on himself, on the inside of his thighs. "Can I help you with that?" I grinned. He stopped, and slowly started to raise his head. By the time I saw that grin again on his face, I realized I had made a tactical error by giving him the hose. "Don't...you...dare." He stalked toward me with the water pistol, looking just like a murderer stalking his prey. "Don't...even...think it." He giggled in an evil way and kept walking toward me. I got the idea I could wrestle the "gun" out of his hand. Bad idea. I got it in the face for the second time that day. I tried grabbing the hose from him again, then finally made a retreat. "You better not let me get ahold of that hose, kid," I said as threateningly as I could. But I couldn't help smiling, either at the thought of what I was going to do to him, or at the expression on his face. He still had that wicked smile, the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Such a doll face, such an evil smile! I "rushed" him and got soaked, but this time I got ahold of his wrist. (I think I grabbed something else for a moment, but I'm not sure.) He curled up into a ball, trying to keep me from getting control of the "gun." He didn't dare press the handle in that position. Perfect. I crouched over him, slowly moving my grip up to his hand. "No, no, please don't," he half laughed, half squealed. I reached his hand and closed his fingers over the handle. The stream of water shot him square in the stomach. He put up with it for three whole seconds, screaming at the top of his lungs, before he dropped the hose and ran. I picked up the hose and soaked him good just as he got around the corner of the house. This went on, back and forth, as the game got "dirtier and dirtier," ambushing each other, wrestling (with the hose getting less and less attention), until I had him cornered. "No, please don't, please, I'll do anything," he pleaded, laughing so hard he was almost crying. I stalked him, playing the mock rapist, holding the hose suggestively at waist-level...then I stopped. I couldn't believe it! His hair was dry! After all that, his hair was still perfectly combed, and not a drop of water on it! Slowly, menacingly, I advanced toward him, unscrewing the "gun" from the hose. My God, what evil deed did the mad rapist have in store for his victim? Jon stood there in the corner, beside himself with laughter, and yet now almost a little afraid of my expression. I stalked toward him, closer, closer... ...gently lifted the hose over his head and let the water pour down on him, ruining in a moment his handsome hair. He stood there, ready to burst either with laughter or tears, I don't know which...I was laughing. The release of that moment was tremendous. Everything changed. I stood there, still holding the hose, watching the water pour over his head, his shoulders, his body...lovely body... His face was relaxed, his eyes closed in rapture as he let the water wash over him. I stood very close to him, really noticing everything for the first time; how the water sparkled in the sun, how it flowed over his shoulders down to his body, where his nipples showed through the soaking wet fabric; his soft, golden legs, little drops of water gleaming on his skin; his round, studly angel face, with such an expression of enjoyment; his bright blue eyes, now looking into mine. I moved the hose down to the back of his neck, the water pouring in a sheet across his shoulders and down his back, over his lovely ass. He arched his back, pressing himself against me. Very softly, I touched his lips with mine, slowly kissing him more and more deeply, pressing against him, letting him feel how hard I was for him. He wanted to feel it. He met the force of my body with his own, letting me feel every part of his softness against me. I let the water pour down between us, feeling the delicious warm flow lubricating us, but not cooling the heat. I put the mouth of the hose against his nipple and the water squirted up into our faces. Laughing, I stepped back and moved the hose back and forth over him, letting the water play over his body, watching the different directions it ran down. Jon looked at me, his angel eyes filled with such lust. He bit her lower lip...or did he say something to me? I stepped forward again and unzipped his jeans, then let the water trickle down inside. We kissed deeply, our tongues flicking across each other playfully. He reached around me and pulled off my T-shirt, then stepped away so I could get a better look at him as he peeled off his own top, never for a moment taking his eyes off me. His penis was small yet slightly pointed, reminding me almost of Hershey's Kisses, andwith the little round tips of his nipples too. I went to him, then down on my knees and took his erect penis in my mouth, sucking in as much as I could. He bent slightly to meet my kiss, letting a little cry escape from his throat. My tongue swirled around his little penis, then licking all around, back and forth, Jon squirming more and more. Loking up at him, I saw his face turned up toward the sun, basking in the warmth above and below. He bit his lip again, but I seemed sure he was saying something under his breath. I took the hose and stood up again, and took him in my arms. I reached behind and lifted the edge of one leg of his jeans, and slipped the hose up inside, between his legs. He put his arms around my shoulder and nuzzled his face against my neck, pushing back against the streaming water, feeling it gush against his body and between the cheeks of his ass. I watched his legs moving slowly, obscenely in little circles, and the water dripping out of his shorts, and started feeling very thirsty. He ran the tip of his tongue around the edge of my ear and whispered something. This time I heard what he said. He unbuttoned my shorts and pulled out my stiff cock. He took it in both hands and started stroking up and down. He pulled the hose out of his white undies and got down on his knees. He took the hose in his mouth and started going up and down on it, licking it around the opening. He was going crazy--and so was I, just watching him. He took a bit of water in his mouth and then went down on my cock. The feeling was incredible. He held his lips tight around me as he slid my cock in and out of his mouth, swirling the water around with his tongue until he swallowed and sucked the water off my stiff dick. "Don't cum yet," he said. "I'm trying not to." He slid his tongue up and down, then poured water over my dick as it lay on his tongue. I couldn't believe I was watching this hot dude, ready to swallow my cock whole. He pulled my shorts the rest of the way down, then rolled onto the grass and peeled off his own jeans. I watched him as he rolled around on the soft grass, moaning with lust, both of us ready to explode. He wrapped the hose around him like it was a snake, pulling it between the cheeks of his ass, over his body, and up to his mouth. He rocked his legs back & forth, rubbing it between his legs. I went to him and knelt beside him on the warm soft grass. I could feel my stiff cock waving in the air as if looking for something to go into. I took the hose from Jon and let the water pour over him, reminding me of syrup pouring over a stack of pancakes. I let the water trickle onto him. He rocked his legs up & down as the water splashed onto his penis. I moved between his legs, and still letting the water pour on his, I moved my dick back and forth, matching his rhythm so the tip touched the outsides of his ass, then deeper and deeper with each stroke, so that before either of us knew it we were fucking in the soft wet grass, my cock moving in and out to meet each thrust of his butt. I bent down to nibble and suck on his lovely penis. Jon cupped it in his hands, lifting it up to my mouth so that I could suck on it more. The speed of our fucking increased, then slowed, as we enjoyed every inch of the pleasure we gave each other, then sped up again as our animal lust took control. I felt I was in a dream. I had watched this handsome guy from afar, had him in my fantasies, and now it was really happening; I was fucking my sweet Jon in the soft summer grass in his back yard. The moment came rushing upon us. He wrapped his legs around my back and held me tightly as I pushed all the way into him then stayed there. We kissed long and deeply as I felt myself shooting inside of him, the sensation of his rectum contracting around me as if to milk me dry. We lay in the sun together, perfectly content, kissing and stroking each other lovingly, gently. Eventually we got up, turned off the hose (the yard was a swamp by then) and went inside. While our clothes were in the dryer, we showered together to get the grassy smell out of ourselves, while we discovered the pleasures soapy water and bath oil could bring. An hour later we sat contentedly on the sofa, Jon's hair perfect once again, watching TV when Mrs. Paradis finally came back. She was amazed at how good a job we had done. "Everything's so neat and clean--not a speck of paint anywhere!" "We cleaned up very thoroughly," I said. Jon & I gave each other a grin behind his mother's back. "How long did it take?" asked Mrs. Paradis as she opened her purse. "Oh, it only took--" "--Five hours," Jon said. "We would've finished sooner, but I kept messing up--he had to fix all my mistakes." I looked at Jon, letting him know with my eyes what kind of a present he was going to get from me. If he thought he had a good time today, just wait till next time. "So that's 15 dollars," Mrs. Paradis said. "Oh, here--25 dollars. I really couldn't keep it from you--not after the wonderful job you did!" She looked at the kitchen as if she were viewing a painting. "You're quite a handyman. We have to find more jobs for you to do around here--I have to get you in this house as often as possible!" "I sure hope so!" I said.
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