Bobby watched as the pecs of the salt and pepper muscle daddy in front of him bulged as he hoisted the two by four above his head. Bobby could feel his dick stiften as he watched the veins of this silver fox bulge. Mr. G.⁠—that’s what Bobby had always called his best friends Dad⁠—stood back to scrutinize progress on the shed he and Bobby were working on together.

“Damn it, this thing is not fucking coming together,” Mr. G. said, shaking his head.

Bobby was helping Mr. G. construct a shed in the backyard. Dillon was away at college. Mr. G. had been a second father to Dillon. A very sexy second father, Bobby reflected, looking over the exasperated Mr. G.

“Mr. G., I really think we need some more help. And you really shouldn’t be lifting stuff this heavy.”

Mr. G. squinted unappreciatively.

“I mean, you’re super fit for your age Mr. G.,” Bobby said as he smiled, “But I know you have that old back injury...”

It was true, Mr. G. was a fox. Actually Bobby had always had a crush on Mr. G. He had even seen him naked a couple times after waiting strategically in the hallway to wait for Mr. G. to come out of the shower. It was easy to catch him naked, he didn’t take a lot of care to cover up, and would leave the bedroom open to his master sweet. Bobby had a sneaking suspicion it was because Mr. G. wanted to be seen naked. He was basically a Greek god⁠—in his mid 50’s anyway. Silver hair, square jaw, a barrel chest with insane pecs, huge quads, and⁠—most importantly⁠—a whopper of a dick. Bobby had only seen it soft (and swinging), so he could only imagine what it was like hard, but even flaccid it seemed as thick as a beer can, and swayed hypnotically as he walked.

Bobby was gay⁠—but he hadn’t told anyone yet. He had hooked up with a couple of guys on the apps, and had actually just bottomed for the first time pretty recently. And it had felt amazing. Bobby had kept the load in him the entire next day⁠—when he was hanging out with Dillon and Mr. G., actually. Dillon is Bobby’s best friend⁠—has been his entire life. And Mr. G. had been like a second Dad to Bobby. But Dillon was off at college now⁠—his Freshman year (Bobby was a senior in high school). But he still came around to hang with Mr. G. In part because Mr. G. was single⁠—Dillon’s Mom had died from cancer a decade ago. But also because Bobby was starting to really enjoy his time with Mr. G. Mr. G. would help him with his homework, he’d push him to do better on tests, he helped him apply to colleges⁠—he was hoping to join Dillon at State next year⁠—he even paid him to help around the house.

Mr. G. calmed himself, and started rubbing his own neck, squinting at Bobby. “Maybe we oughta hire someone to help finish this thing today⁠—I’m getting sick of having this half-finished shed sitting around, to be honest.”

Bobby was fit, and definitely not scrawny, but he wasn’t super muscular like Mr. G., and his son Dillon were. Dillon was a swimmer in high school⁠—he was actually on the team now at State⁠—and so had Mr. G. when he went to State back in the Stone Ages or whenever. Bobby was in cross country in high school, so he had really high endurance, but wasn’t a powerlifter. And they had a couple heavy beams they still needed to lift today.

        “Awe I can probably finish it, Mr. G.”

        Mr. G. got up and walked over to Bobby, and playfully patted Bobby’s ass with his cupped hand, instantly making Bobby’s dick twitch. Mr. G. had started doing this just after Dillon had left for State six months ago. He had become more tender after Dillon left. Bobby tried to inconspicuously readjust his dick in his basketball shorts and took a big whiff of Mr. G.'s commanding aroma.

“I think we need someone with a little more muscle, champ,” Mr. G. said. “Hey you hablas español, right?” He gave Bobby a wink. “Why don’t you head over to Home Depot and pick up some help.”

Bobby had taken Spanish ever since he was a little kid⁠—he actually had just finished AP Spanish, and was the best Spanish speaker⁠—for a gringo anyway⁠—in his class.

“Oh come on Mr. G., isn’t that um, like a little racist?” Bobby was genuinely a little concerned.

        Mr. G. sneered. “Of course not Bobby. This is a land of immigrants, and nothing's more American than not paying taxes.” He winked again.

Mr. G. had some interesting political beliefs, Bobby thought.

“Go pick us up a brawny one.” He slapped Bobby’s ass again.

This was a level of playfulness and innuendo that Bobby hadn’t experienced. Bobby thought of himself as very straight acting, but something told him that Mr. G. knew he was gay, and perhaps had known for quite a while. There had been a couple of instances that Mr. G. had caught him staring at Dillon, or Dillon’s swim mates, or heck even at Mr. G.'s own monster white dong. Bobby figured he would be cool with it, just based on his overall live-and-let-live personality. And in fact sometimes suspected if he wasn’t teasing him about this kind of stuff in order to get him to come out. Bobby had fantasies about Mr. G. hugging him and telling him he’d always be his second son no matter what⁠—and maybe even feeling that monster dong in his pants. But he hadn’t worked up the courage to find out what Mr. S would actually say.

        “Uhhh, okay.” Bobby said in resignation.

Bobby wasn’t sure that this whole scheme was totally ethical, but he hated to let Mr. G. down or act like a chicken. Mr. G. gave him a couple 20’s and Bobby hopped in his beat up old Corolla and started to drive.

It was a hot summer day in West Texas, and Bobby thought Mr. G.'s humid scent had impregnated itself on Bobby’s shirt. He thought of the last time he had seen Mr. S get out of the shower⁠—how Mr. G. had looked at him, they had locked eyes. Bobby broke his train of thought to concentrate turning into the Home Depot parking lot. As he was entering the parking lot, he was realizing he had no idea how this was supposed to work, but sure enough there against the side were a couple of Latino dudes leaning up against the wall. Bobby parked and self consciously got out of his car. Most of the guys were on the older side and looked a little rough, but then Bobby saw a tall man, probably in his 30’s turn around in skin tight cowboy jeans, boots, hat and shirt, with a visible bulge in his jeans. This guy looked like he was a prop from a porno. Bobby was fixated on his bulge as he was walking up, and he noticed that the man noticed, so he quickly closed his mouth (which was agape) and looked in his haunting green eyes.

        Bobby asked him in Spanish if he was looking for work.

The man smiled and nodded, saying simply, “Si.”

        Bobby motioned to his car and said his friend was building a shed in his yard and needed help. The man shrugged, and then reached down to adjust his crotch, and proceeded to walk toward Bobby. Bobby’s heart started to race⁠—was he hiring a worker or was he hiring a prostitute? He nervously checked the faces of the other men assembled around him, but no one was looking. I guess this is how you pick up workers at Home Depot, Bobby thought. So he turned and led the man to his car. As he got in, Bobby noticed a sexy musk emanating from the man near him, who once against adjusted his crotch, and then looked at Bobby and smiled.

        “Me llamo Bobby.” He introduced himself, nervously.

        “Alejandro.”

        Bobby started the car and started the drive back to Mr. G.'s.

So this man, he’s your friend, Alejandro asked in Spanish. Bobby recognized the accent wasn’t Northern Mexico, but couldn’t pin where he was from.

Yes, he’s an older man, my best friend’s dad, exclaimed Bobby.

Is your best friend there too, helping out? Alejandro turned to Bobby when he asked.

No, just us two, exclaimed Bobby. Alejandro nodded.

        After a couple of minutes⁠—Mr. G.'s house was nearby⁠—he pulled up into Mr. G.'s driveway, then explained to Alejandro to follow him to the backyard. Allejandro walked with a swagger that was incredibly sexy. Mr. G. came into the backyard from the backdoor and walked over to them. Mr. G. still had his shirt off, and with his slicked back hair and sun kissed skin looked sexier than ever.

        “Mucho gusto,” said Mr. G., reaching out his hand. Alejandro squinted and took it.

        Mr. G. looked over to Bobby as they were shaking. “Good find Bobby.” Mr. G. winked. “Let’s get him to work.”

        Bobby translated for Mr. G. describing what work needed to get done. Alejandro listened and nodded, and when Bobby was done he unbuttoned his cowboy shirt, exposing a six pack and pecs that showed this guy obviously spent a ton of time at the gym. Bobby couldn't help but stare at his dark nipples. And he noticed Mr. G. staring at Bobby with that same smirk.

        “C’mon Bobby let’s let Alejandro get to work,” he beckoned Bobby back to the house and put his arm around his shoulder. After they were far enough away, Mr. G. said softly to Bobby, “Well didn’t he come right out of a telenovela⁠—good eye kid,” and he patted his ass again. Bobby’s dick jumped again, and he had to walk awkwardly to hide it. Once they were inside Mr. G. offered Bobby a beer and then leaned against the kitchen, staring out the backyard at Alejandro. Bobby eyed Mr. G.'s denim closely and he thought he saw a bugle, pushing the denim away enough at his exposed waist so that Bobby could almost see Mr. G.'s bush.

“Well son, I’ve got to go into the neighboring town for a physical therapy appointment,” Mr. G. said as he finished his beer and chucked the bottle. “I’ll probably be gone for two hours, could you hold the fort down here Bobby?”

“Sure thing Mr. G.”

        Mr. G. left, and Bobby plopped down on their couch and turned on the TV, as he had been so many times before during his childhood, and was lulled into a summer afternoon nap. He was startled when, about a half hour later, there was a knock on the sliding glass door. Alejandro was standing outside, shirtless and glistening in sweat. Bobby opened the sliding glass door.

        Alejandro looked at him sternly and told him in Spanish he had to take a piss.

Sure, sure⁠—Bobby replied, and pointed to the half bath.

        The man, he’s gone now, right? He asked, as he swaggered into the toilet.

This made Bobby a little nervous. “Si.” He said. He left for an errand, Bobby continued, he’ll be back in a couple hours.

A couple hours. The man repeated, playfully.

Bobby’s dick began to tingle. Alejandro opened the door to the bathroom and walked over to the toilet, without closing the door behind him. He deftly unzipped his pants, then pulled out the biggest uncut dick Bobby had ever seen. It wasn’t as thick as Mr. G.'s, but it was definitely longer⁠—this thing was at least 10 inches long, though maybe the last inch was all foreskin. Come to think of it, it already looked a little hard, like a semi. Bobby was frozen staring at this whopper of a Latin dick. Alejandro let a stream of piss shoot into the toilet, staring down at his own dick, but he must have known that Bobby was just standing there in shock, staring at this massive dick. When the steady stream subsided, Alejandro started wiggling his cock hypnotically. The weight of the hidden head seemed to strain the skin around the shaft. Alejandro transitioned from wiggling the member to stroking the dick in a move that was now unmistakingly sexual. Alejandro looked up and locked eyes with Bobby, his cowboy hat complementing his devilishly handsome leer.

“Suck it.” He beckoned, in English.

It was a command, but a soft command. Playful but also authoritative. But it wasn’t a question. Bobby’s heart was racing. This was by far the hottest guy he had yet hooked up with, and he knew it was going to happen now⁠—blowing him in Mr. G. bathroom at the absolute minimum, maybe mre. He walked over licking his lips. The sweet BO of this hunk got stronger as he approached. Bobby got on his knees. He breathed in the massive slab of Mexican meat in front of him, his mouth watering. He grabbed the meat, it was warmer and veiner than he had expected it to feel, and then put the dick into his mouth, peeling back the foreskin with his mouth to an unexpectedly flavorful reservoir of sweat, piss and precum. This was the first uncut dick he had ever sucked, and Bobby was in heaven. This is my calling, this is what I was meant for, he thought as he quickly transitioned into very aggressively sucking this latin stud’s cock⁠—I’m a whore for Mexican dick, this is my calling, he thought. Alejandro reached to the back of Bobby’s hands and pushed his head down, at the same time as thrusting his hips into Bobby’s mouth. This was unexpectedly aggressive, but before Bobby could process the surprise, the cock forced its way down his throat, and in surprise Bobby gagged⁠—he had never gagged on a dick before. He pushed the laborer back with all his might, saliva and precum falling from his mouth.

“Suck it.” He said again in English, and with a determined look brought the dick back to his mouth and returned his hands to the back of his head before Bobby could fully catch his breath again. Bobby gave in, and found the same angle that Alejandro had forced before, this time voluntarily taking the massive foreskinned meet down his throat, trying with all his might not to gag⁠—though he did gag again⁠—and even harder this time, as Alejandro suddenly thrust the veiny cock further down his throat, forcefully face fucking Bobby as he alternated between gagging and gasping for breath. Alejandro would periodically relent and let him breath, but then would mercilessly cram his dick down this white teenager’s throat again. The dick was now fully hard and thick, and had retracted to reveal a swollen juicy dickhead, the color of rare meat, oozing precum.

“There is bedroom in here,” he asked in his broken English. Bobby shook his head in excitement and fright. “Good.” He nodded, looking sternly into Bobby’s eyes. “I fuck you there.”

Bobby felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had bottomed once before, a couple weeks ago, with a guy in his 20’s from a hookup app, but he had never taken anything like this dick in his ass. And he hadn’t cleaned out.

I’m not ready. He stammered, in Spanish.

Alejandro looked like he was thinking for a second, then shrugged and looked over to the shower. Clean yourself, he said, I’ll wait.

Bobby weighed his options. He felt like he wasn’t ready to take a dick this big, and he didn’t have a condom and wasn’t on prep or anything, and this was Mr. G.'s house...but then he started to feel bold. So what this is Mr. G.'s house⁠—it’s my second home. And honestly Mr. G. probably wouldn't’ even care, hell he might congratulate him if he found out⁠—he seemed genuinely that cool and understanding. And Bobby knew that the detachable showerhead was capable of piercing his hole. He was ashamed of it, but it was actually in this shower that Bobby had first practiced cleaning out.

“Ok” he said, before he could even really be sure of it.

“Ok.” Alejandro said in his deep accented voice, a reassured look coming over his face. He smiled tenderly and turned to walk out of the bathroom, capturing a dangling thick rope of precum falling from his dick with his fingers and bringing it to his mouth.

He closed the door behind him. Bobby was nervous again. Was this crazy? Who was this guy⁠—he seemed a little aggressive. Was he clean? Could he be trusted in Mr. G.'s house. Fuck it! A voice said in his head⁠—the teenage voice. You’re here for a good time, not a long time. That was Mr. G.'s favorite saying when he would crack open a beer with Bobby and Dillon. With a new found confidence, Bobby hopped in the shower and rinsed off, then started cleaning out, alternating between the shower and the toilet. He was relieved that he didn’t even really need to do much. He toweled off⁠—difficult considering his erection had never stopped and was now painful. He dropped the towel and left the bathroom. Alejandro was sitting on the couch stroking his still hard meat slowly. He looked up and grinned.

“Ok?” He asked, sweetly.

“Ok.” Bobby stammered.

“Vamos.” Alejandro crooked his eyebrow and nodded his head.

Bobby shook his head yes, and led him up the stairs to Bobby’s room. The smell of Bobby came over him as he entered the room, and it made him more hard, thinking of Bobby’s perfect swimmer Bobby. He was really fucking horned up! He led Alejandro in and didn’t bother shutting the door since Mr. G. wasn’t here, and got back on his knees and eagerly took the swinging member into his mouth again. Alejandro made a gruff noise, and quickly pulled Bobby off his dick.

Your hole, let me see it, he said. He nodded to the bed. Bobby got a big grin on his face, and plopped ass up onto Bobby’s bed. Bobby’s heart was pumping with excitement. He had jacked off so many times thinking of scenarios exactly like this when Bobby was in the shower during sleepovers, but never in his wildest imaginations would he be about to take a load from a guy this sexy. He was terrified and terrifically excited all at once.

Bobby began to purr as Alejandro’s tongue darted into his hole, and Alejandro voraciously ate his hole and kneaded his buttocks. Bobby had never been eaten out⁠—he had watched many  porns where men moaned when they were getting rimmed, but he never could have imagined that it would feel this good. Alejandro stopped and Bobby could sense that he was shifting his weight. He wanted his ass eaten more, but instead he heard Alejandro spit, and then felt a strong pressure against his hole. Alejandro had already positioned the massive Mexican meat on his asshole. That was impressively fast, and Bobby was a little surprised⁠—he had thought they would have continued with foreplay for longer. Surprise turned to fright as Alejandro groaned and thrust. Bobby felt the most searing intense deep pain he had ever felt. This fucker had just thrust all 11 inches of his dick into his hole. Alejandro’s impressive mass was now pushing down on his back. Bobby writhed in agony.

“Slow, slow.” He gasped.

Alejandro started to pull out, but then heaved his weight onto Bobby with even greater force.

“Fuuuuuck,” Bobby moaned.

But his fright was starting to subside. He focused on feeling the perfect meat in his sphincter. As he collected himself, he focused on pushing out and squeezing. This seemed to excite Alejandro even more, as his thrusts became more frequent and he started to pull out his dick even further, exposing Bobby’s gaping open hole to the warm air of the room, before plopping it in all the way again. Bobby focussed as hard as he could on gripping this Mexican meat in his hole, exerting whatever limited control he could on the dick as a means of bearing through the feeling that his insides were getting pushed to their limit. Focusing on feeling the dick deep inside him, he imagined that he was growing stronger from this machismo slab of meat’s energy coursing deep in his bowels. Bobby started to drift into heaven as the fucking became rythmic. Bobby began wailing with abandon in the empty house and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head after thrust after thrust left him senseless.

But Alejandro suddenly stopped thrusting, leaving Bobby laying there ass up face down with a massive dick deep in his guts, wondering when the pounding would continue. But the pounding didn’t continue again, and Alejandro was frozen⁠—his whole body frozen. Bobby could sense suddenly that the energy was off. And then he heard a rustle⁠—what was that? His heart started beating quickly in his ears, his mind racing as he panicked. Someone was in the room.

“You want, señor?” Bobby heard Alejandro say.

There was a pause. Bobby lay there with his head still in the pillows, too terrified to look up. He heard someone walk up to the bed, he heard jeans dropping. Bobby lifted his head from the pillow slowly and opened his eyes. He was staring, just an inch from his mouth, at the thickest white dick he had ever seen. Bobby was so close he could feel its warmth. And he could smell Mr. G. There was no mistaking it. This was Mr. G.'s dick. Bobby was afraid to look up, but he felt he had to. He lifted his head slowly, tracing his eyes up Mr. G.'s ripped abs, faintly covered by half grey hair, up to his thick pecs, and then to his silver stubble and then his haunting blue eyes. As Bobby focussed on then, he saw fear in Mr. G’s eyes. Mr. G. was breathing rapidly, his enormous tool in his hands, staring down at Bobby for approval.

Maybe it was the massive Mexican dick pushing up against his internal organs, maybe it was the beer he had had for lunch, or maybe it was Bobby realizing that his true calling was to be a whore for fat cock. Either way, Bobby summoned a courage that had heretofore been lacking in his life, and he said that thing he had been thinking for years.

“Fuck me Mr. G.”

Bobby opened his mouth as wide as he could, and plunged Mr. S, beer can cock into his hot mouth, sucking in a bead of precum and making Mr. G.'s body spasm. Bobby’s jaw seared with pain as he craned his mouth open big enough to take the member into his mouth⁠—he could only get a couple inches in, it was just too big. But Bobby brought both hands to work the rest of the member as he sucked noisily on the silver fox’s fat dick head. Meanwhile, Alejandro started thrusting again, slowly at first, but then with an rhythym with increasing speed that was making it difficult for Bobby to keep Mr. G.'s dick in his mouth. The pumping in his organs was picking up pace, and Alejandro grunted, causing Mr. G. to bend down and kiss Bobby with a surprising passion as Bobby’s insides were flooded with Mexican semen. Bobby could feel the meat pulsing in his ass, and he beared down as best he could, but he was too wrapped up in kissing Mr. G. to fully appreciate how truly flooded his insides were now. Alejandro pulled out, a rope of cum trailing from his uncut head to Bobby’s gaping flooded hole.

“Good ass señor,” and smiled, waving his arm to Bobby’s ass.

Mr. G. looked down to Bobby for approval. Bobby was mortified by the feeling of his contracting hole⁠—he knew he was leaking badly. He also knew that he was in love with Mr. G., that he had wanted this moment his whole life.

“Please Mr. G.” he nodded. Bobby reached out and started to stroke Mr. S’s still rock hard dick, one hand not able to fully encircle the massive girth. “Fuck me.” Bobby pleaded, staring into Mr. S’s eyes. Something changed in his eyes when he said that, and Mr. G. nodded and raised his eyebrow. “OK.”

He hesitatingly moved to Bobby ass-up rear, which was smelled of giz. Mr. G. hesitatingly reached out and scraped up some of the gooey cum, and then wiped it on his dick for lube. Had Mr. G. ever even fucked a guy before? Am I his first? Bobby thought, as he could feel the tip of the head push against his hole. Bobby started to become fearful. How could he ever take this dick? He could barely open his mouth big enough to take its head. How was he supposed to take this dick in his ass? But as Mr. G. expertly pushed his beer can cock into Bobby, causing a popping noise as the youthful hole was stretched to its limit, Bobby became reassured that this was his calling in life. Mr. G. quickly pushed his dick to the hilt, and then began thrusting with a confidence that surprised Bobby. Bobby had to bear down with all his might to be able to tolerate this arm sized dick plunging in and out of his hole, but he knew this was his calling.

“Your hole is so fucking warm,” Mr. G. said, his voice quivering.

Mr S. started jack hammering. It felt like a plunger opening and closing a new enormous cavity in Bobby’s rectum with each thrust. The pace quickened and Mr. G. let out a cry, as Bobby could feel his cavity get hot and wet again, and he could feel the massive meat pulsing rhythmically inside him.

Mr. G. brough his sweaty muscular trunk down on top of panting Bobby, and kissed him in his ear.

“Thanks Bobby.”

“Thanks Mr. G.” Bobby gasped, still gripping his fat cock with his sphincter.

“Do you want me to pull out?” Mr. G. asked tenderly.

“Please, no. Not ever.”