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I hoped Ernesto didn't think I was trying to seduce him. While that wasn't an unappealing prospect, it was not my intention. We'd just spent the last 30 minutes sitting outside sipping lemonade and talking about my boss Philip's propensity for exposing himself and jerking off in front of other guys. And then it took a turn towards my own penis, which was fully on display. I hadn't put any clothes on since the day before when I'd taken the dogs out for a walk.
I retreated naked into the house with the empty lemonade pitcher and Ernesto went back to finish his yard work. After trimming all the dead growth and wayward branches on the trees and shrubs, he put the clippings into the green bin, and swept off the patio and pool decking. He told me he wouldn't use the leaf blower because it bothered Laverne and Shirley, the two dogs I was taking care of as part of my house sitting duties.
While I washed up my breakfast dishes at the sink, Ernesto hosed off the patio and watered the planters that were peppered around the pool.
I probably should have gone and put some clothes on, but I figured at this point it didn't make much difference. Ernesto had seen me completely naked -- and partially erect thanks to our conversation. He didn't seem to be bothered by it, so I figured it might be more weird if I got dressed.
After recoiling the hose, Ernesto returned that last of his tools to his truck in the driveway. He came back into the back yard, up to the sliding glass door to the kitchen and waved at me. I slid the door open and stepped outside.
"If there's any lemonade left, I'll take you up on that offer for another glass," he said, peeling his hat off and running his hands thru his short, damp hair.
"Yes, sure," I smiled. "Let me get you a refill." I walked back into the kitchen and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon. I turned back toward the door and said, "Do you want some lunch, Ernesto?"
"Oh thanks," he replied. "I have a sandwich in my truck."
"Go grab it," I said. "I'll make myself one and we can eat out here, if you want."
"Okay, sounds good, amigo," he smiled.
As I rummaged through the fridge pulling together the makings of my own sandwich, Ernesto walked out to his truck and returned with a small insulated lunch bag, which he set on the patio table. He came to the open door of the kitchen and asked, "Do you mind if I use the bathroom? I need to wash my hands... and pee."
"Sure, come on in," I said, motioning him in to the kitchen. "It's down the hall to the left."
Ernesto reached down and unlaced his work boots and removed them. And then he cautiously entered the kitchen and headed down the hall to the bathroom. I could hear him lift the toilet lid, followed by the tell-tale sound of his stream hitting the water in the bowl. He clearly hadn't shut the door. I then heard a flush and the sound of the faucet.
"Thanks," he said, returning to the kitchen. "I feel better now. Do you need help with anything?"
"If you want to grab the jug of lemonade from the fridge and those chips on the counter," I replied. "I'll bring the glasses out in a minute." He grabbed the items and took them outside.
"Just have a seat," I added, as I assembled my sandwich on the island, my back turned to the door. "It's really warm out there. So make yourself comfortable."
"Okay, amigo," he replied.
I sliced my turkey sandwich, set it on one of the plates, put them both on the tray, and added ice to the two glasses. I lifted the tray and turned to carry it outside, and nearly dropped it when I saw him outside.
Ernesto had removed his work shirt and pants, which were now laid out on the back of one of the chaise lounges near the table. With his back to me, I could see that he was in good shape with just a hint of a roll at his waist. He was a bit taller than me, probably 5'8" or 5'9", and maybe 165 lbs or so. His back was smooth and tan, with a little tuft of sparse hair right above the waistband of his blue boxer shorts.
He turned to face me and smiled shyly. He had a little hair in the upper part of his chest and a few dark wisps around his dark nipples. "I hope this is okay, amigo. You said to make myself comfortable... and you've been naked the whole time yourself."
"No problem at all," I laughed. "You just caught me by surprise. But, by all means, get comfortable."
Ernesto looked down at his boxers and then up at me. "You sure it's okay, Tyler?"
I nodded and said, "Yup." As I set the tray down on the table, he slipped his boxers down slowly, stepped out of them, and placed them on the pile with his shirt and pants.
"Feel better?" I asked, smiling and trying not to stare at his now naked body.
"Yeah, much better," he grinned sheepishly. "I've been jealous of your outfit since I got here. It's getting freakin' hot. Summers are brutal in my line of work."
"I can imagine," I said, eyeing him. The skin previously concealed by his boxers was tan, but a bit lighter than his chest and legs. He must've spent some time at the beach or by the pool. He had a small tuft of dark pubic hair above a 3.5" cock, uncut like he'd said during our conversation. His foreskin was longer than mine, and fully covered the head of his cock. His balls were a nice size and hung low in their sack in the afternoon heat.
We both sat down at the table and began to eat our lunches as we chatted. He was 37. His roots were from Mexico, but Ernesto's family had lived in LA for several generations. He told me where to get the best tacos, dim sum and ice cream in the area.
He'd worked for his uncle's landscaping business for 10+ years starting in high school. But he'd had a falling out with one of his cousins several years ago and left the family business to venture out on his own.
I was amazed at how relaxed we both were sitting naked in the shade on this warm afternoon. I'd seen him a few times before when I'd been at the house, but today was the first day I'd actually spoken to him.
Ernesto shared that he'd been married for several years in his 20s, but it didn't work out. He'd been single for almost 10 years now. He said he got some action now and then on dating apps, but nothing long term. Despite family pressure for him to get married again, he liked living alone. "I mean, I do get horny now and then," he laughed. "But it's nothing I can't fix with some porn and my right hand."
"I think Philip's over-exposure is wearing off on you!" I laughed.
"C'mon, you must fire up PornHub now and then, amigo," Ernesto said, jabbing a finger playfully at my bare shoulder.
I was blushing again. "Guilty as charged. But not ALL the time like Philip does." I also explained to Ernesto how my painting served as a bit of an erotic outlet for me, too. I'd occasionally get off in privacy of my bedroom while looking at some of the reference photos I'd taken from paintings.
"You're an artist?" he asked.
"Yes. Philip and Daisy have a couple of my pieces here. And I did a painting of Philip as his birthday present for Daisy," I explained, describing the birthday portrait with Philip in his birthday suit.
"Wow, that's cool!" Ernesto exclaimed. "Can I see them?"
"Uh, sure," I said. "Let me grab the key to the guest house. I can show you the two in there. Then we can look at the portrait of Philip in their bedroom."
On my way to the kitchen to get the guest house key, I let Laverne and Shirley out of the bedroom to do their business in the yard. They ran over to Ernesto and he greeted them by scratching their heads.
Returning with the key, I unlocked and pushed the accordion doors open and beckoned Ernesto into the open living area of the guest house. My two watercolor paintings hung side-by-side on the wall above the couch. My friend Scott posing nude on the beach on the left and at Joshua Tree on the right.
"Wow, these are amazing Tyler!" Ernesto said, gazing up at the paintings on the wall.
"Thanks," I said, looking over at him. His dick had chubbed up a bit from it's relaxed state while we were eating our lunch.
"Now can I see the one of Philip?" he asked.
"Sure," I said and we headed across the yard and into the open patio door of the master bedroom. I guided him over to Daisy's side of the bed and did a modest Vanna White gesture at the painting.
"Damn! That's so cool," Ernesto gushed. "It looks so much like him."
"That's usually the objective of a portrait," I laughed.
He laughed with me. "Well yeah, duh. But I mean you really captured his cockiness -- and his cock, if I'm being honest."
"I guess you would know," I laughed nervously. The conversation was causing my cock to firm up. I could feel my foreskin retracting slightly, exposing the pink head of my penis.
"It's weird. It's not like dirty or pornographic or anything. But it's kind of, I dunno... like..." he stumbled looking for the word.
"Erotic?" I offered.
"Yeah, I guess that's it. 'Erotic.' Like sexy, but he doesn't have a hard-on," he continued. Ernesto was absentmindedly rubbing his lower stomach, his fingers grazing his patch of pubic hair.
"That's pretty much what I've tried to go for," I said. "I've done some more explicit stuff before. But most of my work is like these portraits. The eroticism is pretty subtle." About half of my cock head had slid out from my foreskin.
"So did you jerk off back at home looking at your photos of Philip?" he asked grinning.
"I'm gonna plead the Fifth on that one," I said.
"You're Canadian," he said, jabbing me playfully again. "You can't plead the Fifth."
I smiled and made a lip-sealing gesture with my hand.
"I guess that's answer enough, Tyler," he said, returning his gaze to the painting. "It's makin' me a little horny, amigo," Ernesto said, looking down at his semi-erect cock and giving it a little tug. He looked down at my dick and grinned. "And it looks like you are, too."
"Yeah, I guess so," I said shyly.
"How big does that thing get?" he asked.
"A little bigger than this," I replied. "I guess I'm what you'd call a 'shower' rather than a 'grower'."
"A what?" he asked. I explained the concept to him and he laughed out loud. "You gay boys got a name for everything: top, bottom, grower, shower, bear, otter, twink." He paused for a moment thinking. "A twink, that's what you are, right?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm told," I blushed again.
"A twink with a big dick!" he smiled. "Nothing to be ashamed of there." Gesturing down at himself, he asked, "What would I be?"
"That's a good question," I said, eyeing his naked body. "You're not big or hairy enough to be an otter or a bear. And you're definitely not a twink. But I would say that you're probably more of a 'grower'."
He laughed again looking down at this cock, which had grown at least an inch from it's flaccid state and was pointing at me. "Yeah, I guess I'm a 'grower'! I guess that's better than a 'no-grower'."
"You are definitely not a 'no-grower'," I said. "You're a nice size soft and a nicer size hard."
The conversation was definitely getting us both aroused. Nothing like talking about each other's dicks to get them hard. But I wasn't sure where this was going.
"Hey Tyler," Ernesto said, breaking the moment of silence. "Do you have a computer here?"
"Yeah, it's just in the den," I answered. "What... what did you want to see on it?"
"I thought since we're both kinda 'up' right now," he said, gazing back down at his cock again. "Maybe you could pull up some porn and we could... you know... take care of ourselves."
"Um... yeah, sure," I said hesitantly.
"Sorry," he said, back-tracking a bit. "If that's too weird for you."
"No weirder than standing around sporting a hard-on with the gardener while looking at a naked painting of my boss in his bedroom," I laughed. "I just wasn't sure if you were, you know, into that... with a guy."
"Not usually, but I've messed around a little with some guys before," he said. "Chatting with you -- and hanging out with you like this -- has gotten me horned up a bit."
"I'd say that's more than a bit," I smiled as I stared at his erection which had lengthened further and was pointing toward the ceiling. "Definitely a 'grower'! Let me go grab my laptop. Maybe we can sit out on the couch on the patio."
Ernesto grabbed his cock and shucked his foreskin back and then slid it back over the head. "Okay, Tyler. I'll meet you out there."