Courtesy of www.99Gay-Men.US

Learning To Love My Lawn Again, Part 1
by Greg Scott


All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc.  In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it.  Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.


Keith had just told me that this was his last time taking care of my lawn.  I had expected the news, but I thought that Keith would wait until he actually left for college before turning over his job to his younger brother.

Keith was actually the second of the Wilson boys to take on the task of meeting my lawn care and other needs.  His older brother, Kevin had the job for the two years prior to Keith taking his turn.

The Wilsons, whom I had met on a few occasions but didn't really know, had three sons.  When they were growing up, they looked like stair steps as they were almost exactly two years apart.  It was later that Kevin entered my life on a regular basis.

I was outside struggling with my mower one Saturday morning.  It wouldn't start, and I was getting increasingly frustrated.  Taking a short breather between futile pulls on the start rope, I looked out to the street to see the Wilson family car driving past a little slower than was necessary.

I saw the boy's mother in the passenger seat and a striking young man piloting the family's sedan.  I thought to myself that the oldest boy must have reached sixteen.

It's amazing how fast kids grow up, I thought to myself as I watched them glide past.  My own son had reached eleven.  Amazing.  In fact that kid who had just driven by must have been about eleven when I first saw him.  I remember him as a sort of ornery kid who ignored anything either parent tried to tell him.

My son and the Wilson's youngest boy, the same boy who would be taking over my lawn care duties starting next week, had been on the same soccer team as my son, although the Wilson boy was a year older.  During every soccer game the oldest Wilson kid, Kevin, ran around like a hellion rather than paying attention to the game.

I remembered his antics as I watched him and his mother drive past that hot summer afternoon five years ago.  He had already become almost a man.  Amazing.

I finally gave up my battle with the old mower.  I headed to a hardware store to buy a replacement.  If there were anything I hated more than mowing the lawn it was shopping for anything.  I know that some men love to go to hardware or home improvement stores, but I am not among them.

As I drove to buy the new machine, I tried to decide which I dreaded more: choosing a mower or getting back home and having to use the damn thing.  Just at that time, I passed the Wilson car, now going in the opposite direction.  That's when I put it together.

There was a time when I truly enjoyed caring for our lawn.  I had a sense of satisfaction when everything was perfectly trimmed and I realized that I was responsible for its pristine appearance.  That was no longer the case, though.  Besides, my wife and I were now in a financial position in which we no longer did any of the household chores ourselves besides cooking and washing dishes.  Why should lawn care be any different from house cleaning or laundry?

I drove around the block and went back home.  I pulled out the phone book to look up the number for the Wilsons.  The boy, whom I now learned was named Kevin, had gone to visit a friend, but his mother told me that she would send him over to discuss the job offer with me as soon as he returned.

I decided to use the time to shower and change clothes while I waited.  I had just returned downstairs and was about to choose a book when the doorbell rang.  

When I opened the door I was a little confused.  The boy standing there looked younger now that he wasn't behind the wheel of a car.  He introduced himself to me.

"My mom said you wanted to talk to me, Mr. Gomez" he said without indicating how much detail his mother had revealed.

"Yes, are you interested in the job?" I asked, getting straight to the point.  "Oh, and you can call me Juan," I added although doing so surprised me.

"I am usually more formal with my bosses," he replied, very unlike that mischievous boy that I remembered from his childhood.

We took a tour of the yard, which was about twice the size of others in our neighborhood.  When we first moved into this neighborhood shortly after our son's birth, we had a home design already sketched out.  After consulting an architect we realized that the house wouldn't fit on a single lot and still meet zoning requirements.  Consequently, we bought two lots, but we still had to go to the city planning commission to get a zoning exception that allowed us to span two lots.

As I walked Kevin around giving him detailed instructions on zones that required special care, I paid particular attention to the area around the pool.  I hate for lawn debris to blow into my usually pristine aquatic retreat.  

I noticed that Kevin was surprised by the pool.  There would have been no way he could have known about it previously, because an effective privacy fence surrounded our sprawling back yard, completely shielding the pool.

He returned less than an hour later in different clothes, with his family's mower in tow.  I noticed that his manliness in the car that had changed to boyishness when he came to talk about the lawn job had morphed again to something in between.  Boys that age are like chameleons.  Look at them one moment, and you see a boy.  If you glance away and then return your gaze, you're surprised by the young man looking back at you.

I watched as Kevin began his task in the front yard.  I remembered myself at about that age.  I had three activities in those years.  I dedicated myself to my school work, which had paid ample dividends in the subsequent years.  I worked hard at my dad's cousin's huge ranch in Mexico, where we would visit for a month each summer.  The remaining time I spent with other boys providing and receiving an immense amount of sexual gratification.

It was a phase each of us told ourselves.  Indeed, most of my buddies both in the States and in Mexico outgrew the phase, one by one.  I didn't outgrow it though until I met the woman who would become my wife and the loving mother of our son.  Even then, though, even through our lengthy engagement, I continued playing with my few friends who had not yet outgrown their same-sex urges.  Through high school and college and into graduate school, I regularly enjoyed the contact of other males.

After our wedding I tried to put such activities and attractions out of my mind, and for a while I succeeded.  A couple years into our marriage our son was born and a couple years after that, I found myself paying much more attention to the wide variety of men, young and old, with whom I came into contact.

I suppose I turned the corner once I started fantasizing about other men when my wife and I had sex, a detail that I never shared with her, of course.  Those vivid fantasies let me know that I could not happily live without periodic male contact.

It was actually to save my marriage that I sought out and surprisingly quickly found several other married men who shared my enthusiasm for the male body.  We would periodically pair off and enjoy each other.  It began as a rare coupling, although it had worked its way into a scheduled event each Monday at noon.  Rotating through the group in a set order, I met with a different member of our group of five other men until the round robin would begin again during each five week interval, except for those times when one of us would be away on vacation or business.

All of this had begun just a few months prior to meeting Kevin.  I had noticed that instead of relieving my attraction to other males, my regular encounters served to increase my desire for more male contact.  It was with that perspective that I now watched this adolescent man-boy work up a healthy sweat, pause long enough to remove his shirt and stuff it haphazardly into the back of his pants.

Forgetting my prior plan to use the time to read a superb book, I moved from window to window to catch the best view of this trim but muscular, pale, blond sixteen year old.  I know he saw me watching sometimes, as he smiled in my direction.  I gather he might have been accustomed to being watched by men, women or both as he went about his daily life.

When he finished his work, I walked around to inspect, pointing to a couple areas that could have been done a little differently.  On the whole though he had done well for his first time.

I mentioned to him that the next Saturday, he should bring along a swimming suit so that he could use the pool to cool off after he finished with the lawn.  He seemed excited by that prospect.  Of course, I was a little aroused by the thought of this lithe boy bobbing around my secluded back yard, scantily clad, while my wife and son enjoyed their weekly time together.

My wife owns a large real estate firm.  Although she no longer actually personally sells property, she used Saturday to make certain that the various agents in her company were properly set up for the many open houses that they held.  She had recently had our son join her on her daily rounds, finding simple tasks for the eleven year old so that it would seem to be his first job.  In fact, I knew that was just an excuse to have a little mother and son time with him.

Kevin arrived the next Saturday, even hotter than the first time.  I mean the day was hotter, but so was Kevin.  His shorts were tight and he wore a wife beater that made him somehow appear like a bad boy--a bad boy in the best sense.  He started mowing immediately, without coming to the door first, but I ran to the window when I heard the noise outside.

He gave me a broad grin and a hearty wave as soon as I began to look out my library window.  I waved back and forced a grin myself, although I was a bit embarrassed to have been caught staring at him so quickly despite my apparently futile effort at discretion.

I tried to return my attention to the book I had been reading, but I found myself drawn back to the window to sneak yet another peek.  I gave up on the book and instead retreated to my bedroom to change into my swimming suit for what would follow.  Fortunately, the suit was one of the loose fitting models.  I had become a little swollen in response to my voyeuristic activities.  I'm sure that I couldn't have squeezed it into my tight Speedo.

The mower stopped and Kevin rang the front doorbell a moment later.  When I opened the door, I noticed that the boy had removed his shoes and put them on the front stoop.

"Did you bring your swimming suit," I asked.

"I forgot it," he replied to my momentary disappointment.  "Can I just swim in these?"

I glance down at his tight shorts noticing two things.  First, his flaccid cock was clearly outlined.  Second, the shorts were fraying badly.  I could just imagine how those wayward threads would come off in my pool generally gumming up my filtering system.

"Maybe we have a suit that will fit you," I said.  "What's your waist size?"

He told me.  As I might have guessed, mine would be too large and my son's would be much too small for him.

"Would you be embarrassed just swimming in your underwear?" I inquired hopefully.

"Uh, I'm not wearing any, but I don't mind skinny dipping if you don't mind," he said as if he had been reading my secret wish list.  "I mean if you're sure your wife won't be coming home."

I paused a beat or two just to pretend that his suggestion might have made me uncomfortable.  I tried to appear as if I had to give his proposal some thought.

"Well, I guess that would be okay," I tried to sound as if I were relenting.  "Only if you're sure you don't mind and that your parents wouldn't be upset."

"Oh, I don't tell my parents everything I do," he grinned conspiratorially.

"Let's go then," I said as I started leading him through the house toward the patio door.

When I didn't hear him moving behind me, I glanced over my shoulder in time to see him peeling off those tight, frayed shorts exposing a perfectly proportioned set of adolescent cock and balls surrounded by a still filling out pale bush of pubic hair.  I continued my journey to the back yard with an awakening cock of my own, although one that looked very different from his.  His equipment was full of promise, while mine was a promise well fulfilled.  He was light; I was dark.  He was unaffected and soft; I was titillated and hardening more with each step.

We arrived at poolside.  I chose a chair and sat immediately, hoping that the position would allow me to hide my expanding tent.  He walked past me, grinning as he stared straight into my crotch, and dove gracefully into the cool water.

Despite my appreciation for his magnificent young form and the round butt temporarily gliding beneath the surface of the water, I thought of all that sweat from his morning exertions polluting my pristine pool.  I should have asked him to use the outdoor shower first, but the vision of him had distracted me until it was too late to intervene.

A while later, he pulled a lounge closer to my chair and reclined, his dick resting comfortably against his balls.  He closed his eyes giving me an unfettered opportunity to fully inspect his front side.  

I noticed again the paleness of his surprisingly perfect adolescent skin.

"I think we should get some sunscreen on you," I said.

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied.  "My mom is always harping about that, too."

I retrieved the bottle that we always kept on a nearby table.

"Front or back, first?" I asked.

"Might as well start with the front," he suggested.

Since he made no move to take the bottle, I poured an ample amount into my hand to warm it.  I rubbed my hands together more to increase the temperature than to spread it evenly on my palms, although it accomplished both tasks.

I began at his feet, massaging each foot firmly but gently.  At first my ministrations tickled the bottoms of his feet, but he seemed to adjust rather quickly.  I rubbed between each toe.  There was no logical way that sunlight could reach there, but I wanted to establish a pattern of complete thoroughness.

As I worked my way up his legs, with their dusting of fine hair, his cock stirred just a little.  Seeing its movement, I glanced at his face.  His eyes were closed but he smiled when he felt his dick move.  No boy that age is ever unaware of his cock's behavior.

When I arrived at the uppermost parts of his thighs, I realized that I had reached a pivotal point.  Seeing that I had only stimulated a modest response to my massage, I put more of the sunscreen on my hands and began work on his fingers, then hands and arms.

The reaction of his cock that I had previously noted had now completely subsided.  I realized that I was probably accomplishing no more than working myself up for one fantastic session of self pleasuring once Kevin left.

More lotion applied, I rubbed it onto his shoulders, feeling the muscles that develop through play rather than conscious effort that is required of more mature males.  My hands followed the muscles down onto his chest and across his nipples.

At the first touch of the boy's nipples, his smile turned to a full grin and his cock began an upward movement.  It first edged off his balls and onto his thigh.  As I continued my attention on those apparently sensitive small buds, his dick continued its journey higher onto the thigh, eventually reaching the base of the abdomen.

I tentatively worked below the nipples and down onto his stomach where there appeared just the start of a treasure trail of hair beginning to form.  As I did this I paid careful attention to first his face for any sign of impending protest and then his cock for further confirmation of approval.

His dick spoke most loudly to me.  It quickly raised completely off his stomach and pointed straight at the blue sky.

I had thoroughly coated his entire torso.  I had to make a decision now.

"Okay, turn over," I said, chickening out.

"Didn't you forget one part?" he asked, showing the daring of a sixteen year old boy that his thirty-five year old mentor had lost.  "I definitely don't want a sunburn down there."

I didn't ask him to confirm his request, fearing that giving it a second thought might allow him to change his mind.  I quickly calculated that this boy was sixteen, and in my state that constituted the age of consent.  He had given a clear consent, indeed.

I started to reach for his now rigid dick with my oily right hand.  I paused part way, just holding my hand inches away from his beautiful young dick.

He raised his head to watch.  Seeing my pause, he said, "Anything is okay with me."

I pulled my hand away, leaned forward and licked around his prominent crown.  He sighed loudly.  

I licked lower and took both of his still small balls into my mouth.  He groaned.

I licked my way back up his shaft to its very tip.  Then I plunged down upon it, memorizing its size, its texture, its hardness and tasting the salty residual sweat that somehow lingered even after his swim.

I sucked gently.  Feeling the young dick respond, I sucked harder and harder still.  I then began a slow up and down movement, swirling my tongue as I did so.  He soon began to rhythmically lift off his lounge matching my mouth movements with his thrusts as deeply into me as he could.

Far too soon, I felt the throbs that I knew signaled the impending end to my joy.  An instant later a shot hit the back of my throat.  Those that followed landed on my tongue so that I could enjoy the taste of teenage cum that I had come to enjoy so much in the days of my own youth.

Once his spurts stopped, they were replaced by the last few tasty dribbles.  I reluctantly allowed his cock to slip from my mouth.

"My girlfriend won't even touch me there, not even through my pants," he said by way of explanation or complaint or whatever motivated him to share that tidbit.  "I'm really going to love this job."

Each Saturday he returned to mow the yard and receive what we came to refer to, jokingly, as his tip.  On rainy Saturdays, he would arrive at the same time, but we would just head directly to the guest room for our private activities, and he would mow the next sunny day.

He never asked to see my cock.  I always waited for my own relief until after he had gone home, which he did immediately after he achieved satisfaction.  This continued even after he had found a girlfriend who was more than willing to touch him "there" and much more.

When he left for college, he turned his job over to his brother Keith.  He had briefed Keith well, even telling him to be certain that no grass clippings blew into my pool.

I was a little nervous when Keith came in to be paid the first time.  I didn't have to worry long.  Keith immediately dropped his shorts by the front door, walked confidently nude through the house and dove into the pool.

"My brother told me everything involved in this job," Keith said as he emerged naked from the water.  "It sounds pretty cool to me."

Now, the job was to go to the third and final brother.  I had no idea what to expect next week, but I hoped that Karl would arrive as fully prepared as Keith had.

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