Gay Erotic Stories

Originally my old house in town was on a farm on the edge of town but time and urban sprawl has long since gobbled up the farm and left me a small acreage in town surrounded by fencing and old trees and shrubs. I enjoy flower gardening and keep the mulch and rotted manure pile on the back edge of my lot. One evening I was manhandling my wheelbarrow full of rotted manure at the back fence, when I looked over and saw a man attempting to dig up a section of soil by hand. Having done that before, I sympathized with him and went to the fence and said, " I don't envy your job...and laughed." He was working in cut-offs and shoes and nothing else and I was completely enjoying the sight. He appeared to be around 30 and had male-pattern baldness and a close buzz cut. He was one of those compact muscular men with little body fat and seemed very strong. Not at all the classic 'pretty boy' type...but had a big nose and big ears and strong jaw-line...very masculine face...a beautiful smile with thick pouty lips and eyes to melt the polar ice cap. I told him, " How about I loan you my tiller and teach ya how to get that soil ready." Seeming very relieved at not having to hand-dig that soil, he agreed to bring his truck around the block and get the tiller. I went through the basics and soon had him tilling away at his soil as I watched his muscles strain and the sweat pour down his back and chest and legs. He had those thick furry legs that mat thick with sweat and dust and soil. If you have ever used a roto-tiller, the first time you nearly kill yourself because the machine works you. Later, as you learn, you begin to work the machine. I gave him a few pointers along the way and he was a quick learner. We decided that since I was going to help him...we might as well remove a section of the old board fence and put in a gate to save us both lots of time going around the block. Working close together, I was almost drunk with pleasure inhaling the manly sweat smells from him and at time rubbing up against him to help hold boards etc. He seemed perfectly at ease with the closeness and didn’t do any of the classic 'manly' stuff of trying not to touch another man. After we were both finished with the gate project, I invited him to the old house for a cold drink and a tour of my gardens. I fully expected him to gather up the tee shirt flopped on the ground but he didn’t and for that I was glad. I loved his chest.... wide shoulders, thick arms and perfectly shaped pecs with nipples peeking out of a fur patch around each one. He didn’t have the classic six-pack tummy but it was flat with just a light roundness...enough to be kissable. We were enjoying our cold drink, and walking the gardens...he would occasionally stoop down and look more closely at a flower and his thick muscular thighs would bunch up...the cut-off leg would slide up and I could see a nice rounded section of what appeared to be a white boxer covering his balls. The friendship grew over the weeks and one or the other of us was always going through the gate we made and he seemed at ease popping into my kitchen if he saw me there. I discovered his wife and daughter spent many hours each week doing church work and that Larry wasn’t getting much action. He bitched about never getting a blowjob and rare sex and that even when he was dating...no attention to his body. He must have needed an ear since he sort of opened up and told me that as far as he knew, she had never achieved orgasm during sex and they rarely had sex...then he laughed and said..."Dave, if my right hand fell off...I would never have sex." I laughed and said...for a man living alone...same here. One day, I was sitting on the toilet and heard him yell through the screen door..."Hey, Dave". I had just gotten in a new male porn film and it was playing on the VCR in the TV room as I sat on the toilet...so I said..."In the toilet, Larry, be out shortly." When I came into the TV room, Larry was glued to the film and the tent told me he was enjoying the action. "Just got that one, Larry...is it any good?" He was red in the face and sort of stammered out..."Hot, Dave...real hot." I trotted into the kitchen and was getting him a cold drink when he followed me in and said, "Dave, one more minute of that film and I was gonna cream my boxers." I laughed and said, " I can disappear out to the potting shed if all it takes is a minute" Then he laughed and said, " If ya stay, we are talking 30 seconds...not even a minute." I then laughed and said, "Let me check my schedule, I got 30 seconds open...go for it." With that comment...he went back to the TV room...pushed his shorts and boxers to his ankles...sat down on the sofa and did a long slow stroker...never once looking anywhere but the action on the screen. He seemed oblivious to his audience of one except for the time just before he shot when he said...having you watch is so hot, Dave. Then he covered his tummy with thick cum and I got him a washcloth and towel to clean up. Later in the kitchen I kidded him by saying.... that was the longest 30 seconds on record...he grinned, and then I said...but who is complaining. Larry would come over often for fun times in the TV room and as time went by, I got invited to help out with the strokers and that became regular blowjobs and prostate polishing. I think Larry was catching up for the many years of zero attention to his stunning body...and to quote myself.........who was complaining.... certainly not me or Larry.