I was tired, damned tired. My feet ached, my shoulders were sore and even my eyeballs hurt. I really wasn’t used to working this hard and I learned on this fine spring day that I wasn’t interested in getting used to it.



I was nearly finished tearing every plant out of my front yard. I thought I'd be done in a few hours and it had taken me all day. And now, to top it off, my cocky know-it-all neighbor Carl had come home from work. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist giving me his opinion about my yard. I should have done this. I shouldn’t have done that. Blah, blah blah, blah blah.



And sure enough, as soon as he got out of his truck he headed over to the fence that separates our yards.



“Tearing up the yard, huh Bill?”

 The master of the obvious strikes again. I wanted to respond sarcastically but the same damned thing that always happens when I see him happened again. He stood there, leaning on our fence, his dumb smile on his face, his shoulders popping out of his tight shirt and his crotch pressed temptingly between two segments of fence. I had to try not to drool.



“Yup. Nearly done.” was all I could manage. 

Ugh! I hated him for being so hot and making me crazy!



“You know, you really should have. . .” he started in as I knew he would.

I tuned him out as I began packing up my tools and looking at his body. He was thick and muscular but from working as a contractor, not lifting in a gym. His body was natural, masculine. He didn’t notice me looking at him because he was too busy being fascinated by himself. He sure could talk, but he wasn’t about to offer to help me, I was sure.



“Let me give you a hand with those things,” he suddenly said. “You look like you've been working awfully hard today.”



I thought maybe he could read my mind and I tried to send him a psychic message to take off his shirt. He didn’t.

 But he did jump the fence with a quick, athletic move and I saw his triceps pop and his grin explode as he landed in my yard.



“I love jumping fences,” he said with a grin.

From a smarter man, I'd think that statement had a double meaning, but from Carl I'm sure he literally just liked jumping fences. He'd be only more thrilled if I had a cow he could tip, too, I thought sarcastically.



“Where's Chloe? Isn’t she home?” I asked about his wife without even thinking and winced as the words came out of my mouth.



“Ah. She's at some work thing tonight. She's learned it's best not to drag me to those things.”

 His wife was a paralegal, I think. I could only imagine big-mouthed Carl telling lawyers how to do their jobs. Actually, if Carl were smarter, he'd make a good lawyer.



He bent low to retrieve a hoe and I could see his muscled chest through the top of his shirt. It was just enough to make my cock stir in my pants and I felt like the married guy in some old Marilyn Monroe movie staring at her cleavage. God, I was pathetic. I need to get laid, I thought. Maybe when I was done here, I'd pour myself a scotch and get on the Internet. 

As Carl stood, though, I thought his eyes locked on mine for a second longer than usual. He made me nervous and I quickly bent down and pretended to pull a non-existent weed.



“You sure broke a sweat, didn’t you?” He said. “What you need is a hot shower and a beer.” He announced.



I was still down on my knees puttering with the ground when he did something unexpected. He took a step forward, moving his foot closer to my hand, which placed his crotch right at my head. I knew when I looked up, his crotch would be right at my mouth.



I mumbled some reply and looked up at him. 

He stood there with the sun behind him and a great big grin on his face, staring at me. He didn’t move. He just stood there and smiled. Then he looked down at his crotch and back to me.

When I looked, I saw his cock pushing against his pants, straining against the denim.

Was this really happening? My head was spinning.



When I looked up at him again, he was grinning even more. Then he took a side step and walked into my garage without saying a word. I followed as if in a trance.



When I stepped in the shadow of the garage he reached his muscular arms up and pulled the door down, leaving us in semi-darkness. Only the early evening sun filtering through a small side window let in any light.

I was at a loss. My breath was shallow and I could hear every sound as if it were amplified.



He pushed me down to my knees again and began to undo his zipper. He pulled down both his jeans and boxers and his hard cock stood straight out at me.

It was incredible: a hard, beautiful 8 inch and fat piece of meat, staring me in the face. A string of pre-cum connected at one end to his shorts pulled from his swollen head. His crotch hair was wild and musty, not trimmed to perfection like so many gay men's. I took in the beautiful site for a moment before leaning my gaping mouth in toward his meat.



He wasn’t gentle. He pushed the back of my head onto his cock and began to greedily fuck my throat. I opened up easily. His cock was perfect for my throat and he worked it hard and fast. Neither of us said anything. I, because I had his fat meat in my mouth and he. . . I don’t know why. He seemed to never shut up any other time but now he only panted as he fucked my throat.



My knees hurt from kneeling against the hard cement but I didn’t care. This hot fucker was pounding my throat with his hard cock and I loved it. I fumbled to get my own rock-hard cock out of my pants as he continued to work his dick down my throat.

He held the back of my head tight with his rough, big hands and then paused. I could hear him panting. He pumped some more and I could feel his cock-head swell in my throat. He paused yet again and his breathing was more labored.

He began to moan slightly and he fucked my throat some more.

And then the torrent came, from both his mouth and his cock.



“Oh Fuck! Fuck! Fucker! You Fucker, you Fuck Fucker!” He screamed as what seemed like a gallon of jizz poured down my throat.

He stopped pumping and held my head deep against his crotch and his cock pulsed and throbbed more and more juice down my throat.



“Yeah, fucker! Suck it down! Suck it! Oh, fuck! TAKE MY FUCKING LOAD!” His voiced was strained, almost pleading.



“Yeah, yeah you Fucker!” He screamed and I nursed on that meat as I beat my hard cock. I groaned with his dick still down my throat and pulsed a load over my knuckles and onto the floor.

 I wanted more. He moaned more. I sucked more. He fed me more, shaking because I knew his cock head was ultra-sensitive after shooting. He pulled out of my throat and squeezed his cock, offering me the last drops of cum. I sucked it. I was so hungry for it. I looked up at him.



“About time you took my load,” he said. 

I nodded agreement.



“Next time, how about your ass?”

I nodded again.



He smiled. “We both need a shower and a beer.”

 I nodded a third time and realized this cocky, straight fucker could do anything he wanted to me. Damn, I loved it.

He helped me stand and stuffed his semi-hard cock back in his pants.



“Later,” he said.

 I nodded. He opened the garage door and jumped back over the fence.