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As Ernesto wheeled the lawn mower into the back yard, I went in the house and contained the dogs in the master bedroom. They were generally well behaved, but I didn't want to take any chances.
Daisy had told me that Laverne, the older of the two rescue dogs, had once slipped out of the yard unnoticed while caterers were setting up tables for a party in the back yard. Thankfully she didn't get far. Once Daisy realized she was missing, it only took about 15 minutes of searching to find her lounging in a neighbor's front yard halfway down the hill.
With Laverne secured in the bedroom with her sister Shirley, I made my way into the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I sat naked at the kitchen table thumbing through my Twitter feed as I ate, occasionally looking out the sliding glass door to watch Ernesto's progress.
I felt sorry for the guy. At 8:30 am, it was already in the high 80s and climbing. He was well-protected from the sun in his gray Dickies, long-sleeved light blue work shirt and a wide-brimmed canvas hat with a neck guard in the back. But I thought it must get sweltering in all those clothes.
Ernesto pushed the mower methodically up and down the expanse of lawn creating a tidy parallel pattern. After 20 minutes or so mowing in the back, he headed out to do the same to the front yard. After another 15-20 minutes, I heard the drone of the mower end and the buzz of the edger beginning. After several minutes in the front, he hauled it to the back yard and made his way around the perimeter of the yard and then around the edge of the pool decking.
He returned the edger to his truck in the driveway and I made my way to the den to check Philip's email. I took a quick peek thru the blinds in the front window to see that Ernesto was meticulously pruning the shrubs and errant tree branches.
Plopping myself into Philip's leather chair, I made quick progress on his email. There were only a few that required a response. My morning work complete, I closed my laptop and slid open the drawer to retrieve the envelope of photos that Philip had left for me.
Opening it, I set aside the top 3 photos that I'd already looked at. The next photo in the stack was an artful black and white nude shot of a 20-something Philip. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of a loft space in NY, his weight resting on his arms behind him. He had his head tilted back and he was peering seductively through his long dark bangs. He was probably 25 pounds lighter than his current weight, with a toned torso covered in dark hair.
The pose was coy, his folded legs obscuring most of his genitals. Only the very top of his shaft was visible along with his full dark bush of pubic hair. I flipped the photo over to see "Brooklyn 1987" written in pencil.
Setting that photo aside, I looked at the next one in the pile. It was clearly from the same photo shoot, as the loft was recognizably the same. Philip was laying face down on the wood floor, propped on his elbows and staring up at the photographer. Bright sunlight from an unseen window washed over the lower half of his body, illuminating the fuzz that covered his bare ass cheeks.
The next photo in the pile also seemed to be from the same era. In this one, Philip was standing naked on the roof of a building (perhaps the loft building from the other shots) with the skyline of Manhattan visible in the distance. He looked up from his bangs, grinning at the camera. He was urinating, one hand holding his dick to direct the stream and the other holding a cigarette.
Seeing these shots of my boss in his naked youth were having an effect on me. Despite having jerked off with Jerry earlier this morning, my cock was beginning to get hard again. Giving my dick a few strokes, I pulled out the next photo.
It was another black and white rooftop shot. This time, Philip was on his back with one hand behind his head, the other resting on his hairy chest. He was squinting in the sunlight with the photographer's shadow cast across his body and onto the rooftop. From the shape of the shadow, it was clear the photographer was male and likely also nude. Philip's cock was nearly erect and lay at an angle across his stomach. A large puddle of cum on his stomach caught the sunlight and his balls hung low and heavy in their sack.
Damn. My boss was getting more and more interesting at every turn. I squeezed my engorged cock and played with the droplet of precum that emerged.
I heard the gate open and Ernesto emerged outside the den's French doors. He looked my way, but didn't seem to see me inside. I unhanded my erection and quickly tucked the photos back into the drawer.
Philip had told me that Ernesto would be unfazed by nudity around the house, but I didn't want to test his comfort level at seeing another guy masturbating. So I let my cock soften a bit before I rose and returned to the kitchen.
Ernesto was trimming the backyard shrubs with a set of large clippers. His shirt was darkened with sweat down the middle of his back and at the armpits.
I opened the sliding door and stepped outside into the heat and walked over to him. "Do you want something to drink? It's brutal out here today."
He turned to face me, smiled and replied, "Yes, it is. A drink would be good. It's Mr. Tyler, right?"
"Yes. Just Tyler," I said. "Lemonade okay?"
"Yes, Tyler. Thank you."
I returned to the kitchen, filled two tumblers with ice and retrieved the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. Setting it all on a tray, I carefully carried it out onto the patio and set it on the table, which was thankfully in the shade.
Ernesto walked over to the table, removed his hat and sat down in one of the chairs.
Before I sat down opposite him I asked, "Are you sure you're okay with me like this? Or do you want me to put some shorts on?"
Ernesto chuckled, crinkling the skin around his eyes. I hadn't really gotten a good look at his face until now. He was probably in his late 30s, his skin dark and a bit weathered from working in the sun. He had close-cropped dark hair, damp from being under the hat, and a wispy dark mustache and beard. When he laughed, I noticed a small gap between his front teeth.
"No, it's fine," he said smiling as he took a big gulp of the lemonade. "Mr. Caine he... well, he doesn't like to wear clothes much either."
I laughed. "That's becoming very clear to me. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"Really, it's fine," Ernesto replied. "Are you like a nudist?"
"No," I snorted, the lemonade going up my nose. "I mean I've skinny-dipped a few times before. But Philip actually kinda encouraged me to take advantage of the privacy while I was here. To be perfectly honest, I've hardly had any clothes on so far for the 3 days I've been here."
Ernesto laughed again. "If I had a pool like this, I probably wouldn't wear clothes very much either."
"Now I feel like a pervert," I said blushing. "He told me you wouldn't be bothered if I was naked around you, but I hadn't actually planned to be. You just kinda caught me off guard this morning."
"No worries, amigo," he said and guzzled the last of his lemonade. "Like I said, Mr. Caine... Philip... he's naked a lot when I'm here."
I refilled his glass. "He doesn't DO anything while you're around, does he?" I asked, curious.
Ernesto laughed again. "Well, maybe a few times I've caught him out here watching porn on his computer and choking his chorizo."
"Is Daisy around when he's doing that?" I asked. My dick was starting to tingle again.
"No, I hardly ever see her," he said taking another sip. "I think she plays tennis or something on Wednesday mornings. And he's here maybe half the time when I come. But he's almost always naked."
"Wow, I'm learning a lot more about my boss while he's not here," I grinned. "I hope the 'chorizo choking' doesn't bother you."
"Oh no," he replied. "The first time I caught him he asked if he should stop. But I told him it's his yard -- and a guy's gotta do what he's gotta do. So he finished himself off while I was mowing. A few weeks later he was out here with the computer again and he called me over to look at what he was watching."
"Let me guess: Blonde with big boobs getting plowed by a plumber, handyman or fireman," I said.
Ernesto nearly spit out his lemonade laughing. "Close. It was a blonde with huge tits getting plowed by two construction workers. One in her mouth and one in her pussy."
I laughed and explained how Philip's taste in porn aligned with his wife's appearance. He nodded in agreement.
"If you don't mind my asking, did you do anything while you were watching it with him?" I added.
Ernesto smiled. "The first time, no. But the second time, I figured 'what the hell' and kinda played with myself through my pants while I watched."
"The computer or him?" I probed, pressing my luck.
"A little of both, to be honest," he said sheepishly. "I mean the guy is sitting there bareass in front of me stroking his dick. Of course I'm gonna look. He's got a fat chorizo."
"That he does," I said. I explained to Ernesto how I'd similarly "caught" Philip jerking off the morning before his flight and how he'd finished himself off while I watched.
"Looks like you enjoyed the show," Ernesto laughed looking down at my crotch.
"Sorry," I said, feeling myself blushing as I stared down at my plump cock. I wasn't erect, but I was definitely headed that direction.
"Don't be sorry," he said. "You should be proud of it. You've got a big chorizo, too! Only yours is a lot whiter than his -- like 'chorizo blanco'."
I laughed as my cock grew a little more.
"And you still got your sausage casing, like me," he laughed. "Your skin, man. We don't need to worry about lube."
"Yes, I suppose we don't," I said, idly fumbling with my foreskin, and then abruptly stopping when I realized what I was doing. Quickly changing the subject, I asked "Would you like some more lemonade?"
"Thanks," he replied. "But I should finish up with the pruning and cleanup before it gets too hot. Maybe later when I'm done." He stood up and put on his hat again.
"Deal," I said, standing to take the tray of drinks back inside. My cock had softened a bit, but was still noticeably protruding in front of me.
"You better go take care of your chorizo," Ernesto said winking.
"Maybe later," I said. Ernesto laughed and returned to his work. When I got back into the kitchen, it dawned on me how suggestive my answer had sounded. And once again, I felt my face flushing with embarrassment.