Big Boy's Tools
When I bought the older fixer upper in the recovering neighborhood, I think I was the only gay man on the block. At first, I spent every possible minute outside of my paying job, and the small amount of sleep I allowed myself doing and fixing on the property. Sweat equity, thy name is Greg; I used to say to myself as I drifted between exhausted sleep and reality.
Money was tight, and some of the larger more expensive jobs had to be put off for lack of funds, and because I didn't have the tools I needed to do the work myself. That lack of necessary where-with-all, caused me to begin to meet my new neighbors for the first time. The first encounter, happened on a bright Saturday morning about eight months ago.
I had determined to strip what appeared to be about thirty layers of paint off two massive original lattice frames that made up the front porch entrance to my house. I'd checked, and the lumber material they were constructed of, wasn't even made any more, replacing them would be out of the question. With a gallon of toxic stripper, rubber gloves, and my portable radio tuned to the oldies station I like, I set up to work in my fenced back yard.
It was going well, and the radio had just announced it was eight thirty-five, when my next door neighbor's head popped up above my fence line.
"Good morning neighbor," He had a voice, not unkind, when he wasn't yelling at his bitch of a wife. They fought like cats and dogs, and when he wasn't home, she screamed at the kids and family dog. It was the price I paid to own my own home.
"Morning," I answered, continuing to apply stripper with my brush, trying to avoid a protracted conversation.
"I just want to tell you," he started. "I really appreciate what you're doing for the neighborhood. It ought to help the property values some."
"You aren't thinking of selling are you?" Hope against hope.
"Nah, I think about it, but I'm too lazy to do anything about it." He paused for a long moment watching me paint stripper. "You need help with any big jobs, tools or something? I mean, I mostly just loaf around on weekends. Maybe I could help with the big things now and then." I looked up from my painting, and glanced at his litter filled gutters, and a shutter hanging from one rusted screw.
"Well, come to think of it, there are some tools I can't afford to buy or rent right now, and if I could get my hands on them it would certainly speed things up." He grinned. I suddenly got the impression he was hoping he could help me, just to put distance between him and the bitch at least for a while on weekends. I didn't blame the poor guy.
"Like what?" He stepped higher on what ever he was standing on beyond my seven foot wooden fence, and crossed his big muscular arms on top of the barrier.
"I could use a table or radial arm saw. There are several things to be repaired inside that need a big saw. The detail is too precise for my hand electric." I straightened up, and put a hand on my hip and bent my back in an arc, trying to get a kink out of my hip. I saw his eyes rake over my runner's frame, not missing a point.
Mel, whose name I knew from the screaming matches between he and the bitch, was a well built man, who did something physical, to earn his living. I didn't know what, but what ever it was, it kept him lean and mean. I guessed he was about three or four years older than my twenty-eight, but the age didn't show on him appreciably.
"Jerry Fines across the street has a Radial Arm saw he never uses anymore. I'll borrow it for you. Anything else?"
"Actually, yeah. I'm going to have to dig up my sewer line. I think it's either clogged badly, or maybe crushed somewhere along its run. A garden tiller would help me in a big way to get that job done."
"You got it. I'll borrow it from Mac McAdams, three doors down. He's got a hummer of a machine he bought to put in a garden every year, but only used it once the year he bought it, and realized a garden was a lot of work he didn't want to do."
"That's great Mel." I thanked him, and he hinted for my name, and I told him and we shook hands. His big beefy one swallowing my small boned version completely. Feeling his hand warm on mine, made me wonder just what his other tool might be like. I didn't have to wait long before I knew, come to find out.
The first lattice was finally stripped, and I could see the original color of paint used on the house trim, and was pleased to see it was not the babyshit green it currently was. I liked the soft mauvy peach the original builder had chosen, and intended to match it as close as possible when I repainted. I was sitting on the rusted lawn chair the previous owner had abandoned, enjoying a break, and a glass of iced tea, when Mel opened my side gate without knocking, and came through wheeling a big heavy duty tiller.
"Hey buddy," he grinned familiarly. "Here's the tiller. Mac says you can have it if you want it, gives him more space in the garage, and gets his wife off his back about a garden." I smiled at him and jumped up to examine the big machine.
"Can I offer you some iced tea?"
"Sounds good bud." He followed me into my original kitchen, and I poured him a tall frosty glass. He leaned against the counter, while I sat on a dining chair I kept in the corner. I couldn't help but notice the size of the bulge in his shorts. He caught me looking, and when I didn't avert my gaze immediately, he licked hi lips, and set his glass on the counter. He cupped his basket with his hand, and adjusted the load.
"You know," he said. "There's been a lot of speculation about you since you bought this place."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Some of the guys think you might be queer." I chuckled, but said nothing. "Sam, across the street, says only a queer would put this much effort in such an old house."
"Tell Sam, I love this old place. It's a Green and Green bungalow, and will be worth every hour I put into it."
"What the hell is a Green and Green?" I explained they were the firm that designed the original concept of the California Bungalow, and had become important names in the architectural history of Southern California. I pointed out his house was one, as were half a dozen others on our street.
"This could be a fancy little community if they were all restored. Think what that would do for the property values. A fully restored Green and Green bungalow sold six months ago for eight hundred thousand." He whistled, especially since he had to know I'd paid less than a hundred for this one, and the owner was glad to get his price. He mulled over what I was telling him, and I could see his mind examining the facts and doing calculations. When he spoke to me again, I was shocked at the line of thinking he'd actually been pursuing.
"So, are you or aren't you queer?" I shook my head in disbelief, and smiled.
"Mel, are you fishing for a blowjob?" I thought I'd shock him.
"Well, that would be a start." I was the one shocked. "How about it?" He walked over to me, and stood with his growing bulge just inches from my face. He used his big hands to outline the growing monster in his shorts. I reached out with my small hand, and laid it on the hardening flesh. As soon as I touched him, he popped the button on his shorts, and lowered his zipper. He wasn't wearing briefs, and his massive boner fell out hitting my cheek.
"Come on Greg, suck it for me." I took the heavy shaft and jacked it a few times, bringing it to full hardness, and then let my tongue and lips nibble and slather it with saliva. He stiffened his muscles, and his whole frame seemed to grow an additional three inches. The head of his thick ten inch cock flared and grew angry and red. I let it slip between my lips, and felt the V of its underside slide across my tongue. He moaned, and brought his big beefy hands to my head, and began to hump into me slowly.
"Oh man, I've dreamed about this for years. I love a good blowjob. Dolores, won't touch my dick, and I'm lucky if she's horny once a month. That isn't enough for me, I have to jack off sometimes two or three times a day." He increased his humping speed, and his grip tightened on my head. I turned on the suction, and he went a little crazy with lust. I thought that big flared head was going to rip my tonsils out, the way it was pounding through my throat entrance and popping back out. It didn't take long before he was breathing hard like a train puffing up a steep grade, and his hips began a brutal assault on my face, flattening my nose against his hard stomach. I was struggling for breath, and trying to keep my suction up at the same time when suddenly, he went rigid, and his asscheeks flexed hard, and I felt the head of his cock expand in my throat, and his cum tube flex on my bottom lip. and the spooge began flowing like a garden hose down my throat.
"Oh jesus fuckin' jesus, take my load, swallow it cocksucker. Eat my jiz." He humped a few times, each hump deposited another spurt down my gullet. Finally, with tears flowing down my cheeks, and my nostrils flaring searching for air, he released his grip on my head, and I pulled off him, gasping for breath.
"Man that was good." He patted me on the head, and bent to pull up his shorts. "You ever fuck with guys?"
"Sometimes," I said, still breathing hard.
"You let me fuck you?"
"Are you kidding?" I ran my hand over his still semihard flesh before he could put it away and zip it up. "I'd love to have this plowing my ass."
"So what's wrong with right now?" I couldn't believe what I heard. After all, he'd just dumped what felt like a nut emptying load down my throat.
"You're on." I jumped up, and led the way to my bedroom. He was stripping out of his clothes as we went, and was shucking off his shirt as we reached the bed. His cock was already hard again, standing at the perfect angle for fucking. I grabbed a rubber out of my night stand, and the tube of KY. I stripped out of my sweaty shorts and shoes, while he rolled the rubber over his shaft. A big glob of jelly, did the trick of greasing us both up, and he pushed me onto my back, hurriedly, anxious to plug my ass. I spread my legs, and reached for his monster tool and began feeding it into my more that willing hole. It had been months since I'd taken the time to cruise for sex. I almost couldn't remember the last time I'd encountered a tool this size.
Once he was lodged in my ass, he wasted little time in forcing his length into me, and soon had me shivering and clinging to his body like a sloth to a limb as he humped me with every muscle of his body. It was one hot fuck, pounding me like a piledriver, until his massive set of balls, pulled up and tightened in their sack and dumped another dose of mancream into my body. He was groaning and grunting so loud, I was glad that the first job I'd done on the place, was to add additional insulation to the walls of my bedroom. God forbid the bitch next door should hear her husband fucking the neighborhood queer.
When he finally had his fill of me, and I was full to the gills of him, he pulled out, and laid sweating beside me. I laid there, savoring the contented feeling of having cum twice while his big electric tool had been doing its thing in my butt. The overhead fan, slowly cooled our skins, and finally, he raised himself up on an elbow and looked at me with a smile on his face.
"I think you're going to need a lot of help until you get this place finished."
"Umm. I think you're right."
"Some of the guys up and down the block have asked me if you were gay. I told them I'd find out."
"What are you saying Mel?"
"Well, several of them would like to pay you visits now and then. You know, just to help out around the place. If you need any tools, just ask. If it can be gotten, we'll get it for you. Of course, the payment for the help is going to be sex."
He dressed, and went home, and I dressed and went back to stripping my lattice. I thought about what had happened, and decided it might not be so bad, having access to all these big Boy's tools. I'd certainly be happier, and it looked like I could save a bundle in expenses, restoring my house.
I was just finishing my cleanup later that afternoon, when there was a knock on my back gate. I shouted it was open, and Jerry Fines, came in to my yard, pulling a radial arm saw on a two wheel dolly.
"Hi neighbor," he said. "Mel, told me you needed some tools. He set the saw down, and cupped his basket in his hand.
"You must be Jerry. Can I offer you some iced tea, neighbor?"
"Sure thing," he said, gripping his hardening flesh as we walked toward the back door. I glanced over my shoulder at a movement on the top of my fence, and Mel was there grinning, making a face, with his tongue licking his lips in exaggeration.
I let the screen door slam shut, after Jerry had passed by, and followed him into the kitchen. I poured him a glass of tea, and took mine over in the corner and sat on the chair. Jerry took a sip of tea, and set his glass on the counter. he sauntered over to me, squeezing his thick shaft of man flesh through his shorts. I put my hand on it, and he shuddered. I lowered my glass, and set it on the floor. He pushed his shorts down over his hips, and his beautiful nine inch uncut cock, fell into my hand.