Redneck Reveries By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com
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It was a shock when I looked in the mirror on my fiftieth birthday and realized I had done everything I wanted and gotten where I wanted to be and it was all shit. I had wanted to be stylish, elegant and sophisticated. I wanted to associate with people like me. We could dazzle each other with our own brilliance. I loved parties and dinners, going out and eating well. I had become a successful society architect doing expensive projects for wealthy clients.
Somehow I had it all and I didn't give a shit.
Part of the problem was that my latest lover had left me for a younger man. For years I had been the younger man. I tried to look young, but when I looked in the mirror I looked desperate and tired. I felt a little like Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard. I was a classic over the hill fag. I was a comic figure.
My former lover, Raoul, had been handsome, witty and expensive. He worked, but his job hadn't come close to providing enough income to support him in the style he preferred. Even the sex wasn't very good. It didn't bother me that he left me for a younger man. That man was a second rate developer who did strip shopping centers in the 'burbs. We had made trips to Europe and visited New York for Broadway plays. Raoul's new friend went to Vegas and Disney world.
I thought we had similar cultured tastes, but Raoul was after the cash. A week in Paris in the spring was the same as a week in Vegas at the slot machines. I felt like a fool. When I looked back I realized Raoul wasn't the first user I had dated. I seemed to have a taste for pretty and shallow boys. I was in a rut and had no idea how to get out of the hole.
A few weeks later one of my clients, Mrs. Webster Milland, call me with project. Her husband had recently died and she was now the owner of his substantial real estate empire. One of his holdings was a run-down old movie palace in downtown. I knew of it, but most of my work was in the wealthy suburbs. She wanted to restore the theater and give it to a local university as a theater. One of her sons had been an actor of sorts before he died of cancer. She wanted it to be a memorial to him.
I told her that restoration wasn't my thing, but she was insistent and wealthy. I had no track record of resisting anything a wealthy woman wanted. A day later I went with her to the theater with the chairman of the theater department of the university, Karl Duke, and a contractor friend of hers, a man named Ralph Walton.
"Gentlemen, this is D. Somerville Wightman, my architect," she said. I knew Karl, but Ralph was new to me. He had a very firm handshake. We went in the building immediately.
It had been called the Italian Garden Theater and the building was absolutely stunning. It was run down and badly treated, but it was a scaled down Italian Baroque opera house with unbelievable architectural ornamentation. I said it would be expensive to restore. Mrs. Milland reminded me that expense was not a problem. While her late husband had been very successful, the word was that she had married down. Her daddy had founded the biggest brokerage firm in the city. She was an only child, and when they sold the firm, her part of the take was said to be around a hundred million. That was two decades ago, so she may well have had several hundred millions by now.
Wilton was a self-made man, a bit crude and abrupt. He liked the building and he knew his stuff. Much to my surprise we got along well. I knew quite a bit about theaters, mostly from going to plays and musicals. This project was bigger than I unusually did, but I found that it excited me. I was nice to do something other than the beach houses and sunrooms that were my usual projects. Often I was hired to provide entertainment for a board housewife.
Mrs. Milland also wanted to get it going quickly. The lobby had been turned into a wig shop and had been subdivided and mutilated. The shop extended under the balcony and the balcony was converted into storage.
She wanted the partitions removed and the place opened up. I was worried that the removals would damage the existing construction. Ralph said he would put his best men on the job. If I would come by daily, I could look at the day's work and see what would be the best way to proceed. Usually I was hands off during a construction project. I didn't like to get dirty. My associated Rodger did that. Rodger had moved to Ft. Lauderdale and I would need to do it myself. One of my problems with construction workers is that it doesn't take long to realize I am gay. They tend to snicker. I didn't have a choice here.
Ralph was a fireball and he had a demolition permit a week later. He called me and asked if I could get to the theater early the next day to start work. I arrived at 7:00 and the place was transformed. They had strung up lights and you could see. Ralph had brought coffee and I met the superintendent, John and is crew. John was a beefy Kenny Rodgers look-alike. His crew looked like escapees from a rehab center.
John was polite and didn't say much. Ralph did the talking. I suggested they take the drywall off one of the partitions to see how it was attached to the plaster ceiling. John call in two of his men and ten minutes later the drywall was gone. It was clear that the wall had been tacked into place with a nail every four or five feet. Bubba, the biggest and ugliest of the crew members, took out a nail and it was smooth. It did not rip out the plaster. That was good.
John asked if he could call me when they encountered a problem, or if he should wait to a scheduled meeting. I told him to call me and I would come by as soon as it was convenient. I suggested they remove the easy stuff, such as the suspended acoustical ceilings first. That made sense to everyone.
At 2:00A.M. John called. "Mr., Wightman, we have found some things you might like to look at. We seem to have discovered another floor." I said I would come over later. Later turned into fifteen minutes. The project excited me.
The crew had looked rough in the morning. They were now covered in dirt and grime and they were positively grimy. It was a hot day and all of them were sweating like pigs. John had found a hollow sounding area in the floor to the side of the main lobby. They had made a hole. They gave me a flashlight. Below the floor was room that looked to be a medieval cloister with a fountain in the middle.
I had done some research on the theater and had come across a mention of a Beer garden for the patrons use after the show. There were the remains of artificial flowers visible. John had found the beer garden. The theater had been in a German neighborhood and a beer garden would have been a desirable feature. I told the men of my suspicions. I could almost see their estimation of me rising. At least they knew I was a man who knew things.
The crew quickly removed the rest of the floor that sealed the stairway. The room was musty but not damp. I tripped on something on the floor and John caught me. I'm not a small man, but John had no problem. He was built like and ox and he was just as strong.
Unexpectedly a wave of desire swept over me. John wasn't my type, but I suddenly felt attracted to him. He is clean shirt of the morning was now dirty and he smelled of sweat. I wanted him badly. Of course I did nothing and said less.
Over the next month I came to like John more as a man. He knew his stuff and was always helpful. I tended to look at most construction workers as dolts. They looked at me as a flaming fag. I had thirty years' experience as an architect and John listened to my ideas and took them seriously. He had his own thoughts and most of them were good. It was a perfect working relationship.
He also became more sexually attractive to me. A smart, beefy, hardworking man was definitely not my type, but John was an exception. I tended to look for prince charming; John was just a guy. He was married and had three kids, all gown. I knew he loved his kids; he never mentioned his wife.
His crew were much the same as he was, without the sexual attraction. They knew their stuff and were capable of incredible amounts of work. Bulldozer was a huge black man who was a laborer. He wasn't particularly smart, but he knew just how smart he was. He knew when he was out of his depth and went to John when he encountered a problem. Bubba was a tall, bearded, ultra-redneck who never said a word unless absolutely necessary. He was a carpenter, but he was fastidious and careful. He was good where ever you needed a careful man. Tommy was an almost respectable looking young man. He was Ralph's nephew and he was in training. Ralph had daughters.
John's wife appeared at the site one day and she was a surprise. She was attractive but caught in a time warp. She dressed the way you did in high school. She was also a bitch with no sense of propriety. When John introduced her as the architect she said, "Oh, you're one of those," and then ignored me. She referred to his crew as the "retards" and told everyone the building was ugly.
When she left, Bubba whispered, "John's daughters are real pretty and smart. They take after John."
The theater project was moving long well. The demolition and removals were finished in two months and a half and there was a lull in the construction. I had to do the detailed drawings now. I was unhappy about the prospect of not seeing John and his crew for a month or two.
That was before a freak, summer windstorm. I was in my house when it struck. I thought it was tornado. It was actually straight line winds, a sort of a localized hurricane. My house sits on a fully wooded site with large, mature oaks. They were what a landscape architect friend of mine referred to as post-mature. After ten minutes of winds they became dead trees and three landed on my house. My garage was crushed, the sunroom smashed and the third tree straddled the kitchen.
The next morning I called Ralph and asked if he could help. John and his team arrived at ten. Bubba had worked as a lumber jack and they went to work on the trees immediately. My next door neighbor was my insurance agent so that wasn't a problem.
There was no electricity for a week. The entire electrical system in this part of the city was gone. That didn't bother the crew at all. I had the only workers in the area and once my kitchen was out of danger I told John to help others who had emergency situations.
The crew lived outside of the city. Normally that would be an hour's drive. It was difficult now with the closed roads so I told them they could stay in my house. I had a freezer filled with defrosting food so I barbequed as much as I could for them before it went bad.
Most of my neighbors were wealthy and many were elderly. They were not use to coping with this sort of a problem. John and his men were a godsend. One neighbor had an art collection and a leaky roof. Bubba and Bulldozer were scary looking, but they soon had many friends.
John was a sensible man was able to talk some neighbors out of doing some stupid things. There were some kids and college students who were helpful, especially when John was directing things. I was giving structural advice. I was surprised at the number of people who didn't understand that part of their house was near collapse. I seemed to be getting more friends too.
At night everyone went back to their houses. There were reports of looting, and you could hear periodic gunshots. You didn't want to be walking around with an armed home owner looking for possible looters.
It was hot and muggy. I had city water and it was fine. I also had a pool. It was a salt water pool so it wasn't useful for many things, but it didn't get grungy either.
After dark we skinny dipped since that was easier than finding trunks. Bubba had been use to skinny dipping as a kid and he led the charge. It was refreshing and you felt cool for a little while. I also had a large wine cellar and that was a good way to pass the time on a dark summer night.
I was getting a bottle from the wine cellar with Bubba holding the flashlight, when he spoke to me. "You're gay aren't you?" he asked. I had no idea what to expect. I was afraid it was going to be punch in the face.
"I am and I always have been," I said. I wasn't the kind of man to back down or prevaricate.
"The guys and I don't mind a trip on the wild side some times," he said. "It's hard to get away from our families. We like to let our hair down and have some fun."
"I have no problem with that, I said. "I'm a live and let live kind of guy."
"I figured you were that way," Bubba said. "There is one other thing. If it offends you can you promise to forget I ever asked it?"
"There is no problem asking anything," I said.
"Are you a bottom by any chance?" he asked. "I'd like to try it out, but the guys aren't sure."
"I like it all," I said.
"Would you get offended if you had an ol' carpenter's cock up your behind?"
"I might be able to help. What can you do for me?"
"John says I'm a great cock sucker," Bubba said. "I take the load too. I love the stuff. You know I don't like a mess. I swallow."
"I think we can all have a good time," I said. We returned to the rest of the men.
Bubba wasn't the most refined man in the world. "It's time to party!" he said as we returned.
I had no experience having sex with construction workers. We were all naked but in the dim illumination of the moon, I couldn't see then well. I had no idea what to do. I jumped in the water. There I found Tommy. He felt me out. I stoked his erect organ and decided things would probably work out. I sat on the edge of the pool and Tommy sucked me.
John sat next to me. "You don't need to do this," he whispered in my ear. "We work together so well. I'd hate for this to screw things up."
"Let's just let tonight be a party and pretend it didn't happen," I said. "Like a Christmas party when you drank too much."
"That makes sense to me," he replied. "Bubba thinks he's a straight guy who just messes around. I used to think that, but I'm more realistic. He thinks you can show him some new ways to ring his chimes. He's pretty outgoing and will do or try anything. I'm embarrassed. I don't like to get all hot and bothered with pals. I also have a short fuse and shoot a big load. I make a mess."
"Let me take that as an invitation," I said as I slipped into the water. It was dark and I though John had a fire-plug style cock, chunky like his body type. He was uncut and semi-hard, his cock twitched when my tongue touched it. I took that as a good sign. I gently explored his cock. I wanted him excited, but not so excited as to climax too fast.
I soon discovered he possessed a long fire plug, more than six inches and just as thick as I thought. His tool was sensitive, responded to my mouth but twitching and shivering. There was some cock drool, but it wasn't orgasm ready if my years of cock sucking experience were any indication. It was like sucking a time bomb expecting it to go off any minute. That was intensely exciting.
Tommy was in the water to my rear. His cock was at my hole. He wasn't exactly pushing, but I knew if I relaxed he would be in.
I gave John's cock a rest and licked his ball sack. It was hairy. That should have grossed me out, but it didn't. I tried to take both balls into my mouth, but that wasn't an option. I took one of the eggs into my mouth and then the other. "That's nice," John whispered.
"Are they full?" I asked.
"They are filled to bursting." he said. I relaxed a little and Tommy's cock slipped into my ass. A second later, I felt warm man seed gushing into my ass. I like what I call quality time in sex. I like to get to know and feel the cock a long times before the inevitable. It had been a long while since anyone was so excited he shot off immediately. I was pleased.
"Leave it in until you shot it all off," I whispered to Tommy. I squeezed my ass a few times and Tommy twitched. The pool filters aren't working. I had some post orgasmic quality time.
I returned my attention to John's cock. Either my visit to his balls or Tommy's orgasm had got him going. His cock was drooling generously now. That made me more excited. It was a challenge to see how long I could keep him stimulated before he climaxed.
Tommy pulled out. He got on a towel and dozed off. Bubba joined us in the water. Bubba was right behind me and I knew what he wanted.
"Now take your time, Bubba. We all want to be friends afterwards," John said. "Ease it in; take your time." Bubba had a big knob and he pushed gently. Tommy's cream had lubricated the way; it popped through the sphincter easily.
"It's nice Boss, really nice," Bubba said.
"Take it slow and enjoy the trip. Enjoy the scenery, relax," John suggested. John's cock was still oozing, but he wasn't twitching as much. I came close to deep throating him and he rewarded me with globs of precum. His balls were vastly more productive than the no longer lamented Raoul.
"I want to shoot real bad!" Bubba whispered. "I want to fill him up!"
"You know it's good to build up a good head of steam. Give your balls a chance to make more of your special sauce," John said.
I was enthralled by John's cock. Raoul's organ was hard as a rock a just about as responsive. John had some extra skin, so his hard cock was in a soft wrapper. It was beautiful. He twitched, oozed and shivered in response to my mouth and tongue's efforts. It was a living and responsive sex organ.
Suddenly I realized that Bubba was way deep in my ass. His cock head was exploring untouched areas deep in my ass. I was feeling new things inspired by Bubba probe and John's rich man juices. Given that both men were ready to shoot, remarkably, we made it for another ten minutes before Bubba popped and set off a chain reaction of orgasms.
It was an orgasm that made me reassess my sex life up to that point. I was playing the role of a sucking pig skewered on two redneck cocks, both of whom were basting me from the inside. John's cream was pure heaven. His ejaculations tickled my throat as Bubba tickled my ass linings. I was a sex toy for two carpenters and I was the happiest man in the world.
We finally pulled apart. Bubba was appreciative. I was just one of the three happiest men. There was a rumble of distant thunder. It was getting late and we were all tired and went to bed. The next morning was clear and turned hot in an hour. We all went back to work. The storm we had heard the night before had toppled more trees. It hadn't been that bad in my area, but there was flooding elsewhere and more lights were out.
John and Bulldozer went off to help a neighbor. He had a call from Ralph, who was trying to get some heavy equipment in to my neighborhood. The fire department snagged them to help with some rescues. I told him we were doing well and emergencies took precedence over my problems.
My neighbor's wife came over. They had a problem; she said the rear wing of her house was breaking off. Stella was sixty-five and had been a trophy wife; her husband, Calvin, was over 90 and mean as shit. To her credit, she stayed with him. I thought she meant there was a crack developing. When I saw it I realized the ground was giving way. A water main had broken and was eating away at the foundation. The room was indeed falling off. The rear wing held his art collection.
We decided to move the collection to the front of my house. In spite of the tree damage to the rear, the main part of the house was sound and solid. I got the neighbor kids from the other side of my house to help. Liz was 17 and her bother Temple was 14. They were helpful, but Bubba was the only real beef in the group. He and I took care of the big stuff, Stella, Liz and Temple did the smaller stuff such as the small paintings, water colors and prints. Calvin complained bitterly and screamed at his nurse.
Calvin's father collected modernist European works of the early twentieth century. His grandfather collected Hudson River School painting as well as American paintings. There were two massive landscapes. Moving them was a bear. The sky was threatening, the rear wing was shifting and we worked like demons.
Luckily John came back in time to help move the biggest work, the Hudson River landscape. We abandoned the frame but got it into my living room just before the rear corner of the gallery collapsed and took the roof with it. By that time Stella and Bubba were best friends.
John and the crew went to work on my house again, covering all the holes and gaps we could. A medevac copter took Calvin and Stella off. A storm at six ended all outdoor work again. We, were down to steaks and shrimp for dinner. The crew bore up under the strain.
I cooked dinner with Bubba as Tommy. Bulldozer and John worked inside my house.
"Last night was the best night of my life. I guessed I would like it, but I didn't know it would be that good," Bubba said. "Did I hurt you?"
I smiled. "I think you did the opposite of hurt me," I said. "I liked every minute."
"I shot off in you," he said.
"I know, I could feel it," I replied.
"You could?" he asked. I nodded. "John said it was the best sex he's ever had."
"To tell you the truth, I felt the same way," I said. "I'm not exactly a virgin, and this was really good."