This gay fantasy will depict
homosexual acts between males, and is intended for ADULTS only.
If you are not of legal age in your locality to be reading this story
or if you disapprove of this type of material, please leave.
This work is copyrighted by the author. It is not to be
reproduced or copied in any form or archived on any web site without
the specific written consent of the author. All Rights are
Comments and suggestions are welcome.
* * * * * * * *
Except for coming down with the flue or a bad cold, my health had
always seemed to be pretty good. But, like most men in their forties
or fifties, I was inclined to forgo the advice of my doctor on those
occasions that I would visit him for treatment. It wasn't until I
was stricken with a heart attack that required surgery that I realized
how foolish I had been. While I was able to continue
working, my doctors recommended curtailing some of my activities, and
concentrate on a regimen of supervised therapy combined with
When I inquired as to the effects there might be on my sex life, I was
relieved to hear that I should abstain for a couple of weeks before
thinking along those lines. I couldn't help but smile when my
doctor made the recommendation since my lover and I had only recently
broke off our relationship, and for the present, abstaining would not
be a real problem.
It was even more surprising when I was told that I should consider
employing a maid to handle some of the more strenuous housecleaning and
hire a lawn service to trim the lawn. Pushing a lawn-mower, using a
weed-eater, raking and cleaning the yard and flower beds was out of the
the foreseeable future.
I was gratified and deeply appreciative when I returned and learned
that my neighbor had cut and trimmed my lawn
while I was in hospital. One of the things that had attracted me to the
neighborhood was the friendly atmosphere, and the way neighbors looked
out for each other, assisting when they learned of some
difficulty a neighbor might be
Hiring a maid was not at all difficult, the yellow pages of the
telephone directory was full of
maid services. Finding a lawn service in the middle of summer
that would cut and trim the lawn in addition to caring for the flower
and bushes was a horse of a different color. Those that I did
talk with would only cut the grass, including trimming the edges of the
sidewalks and any edging needed around flower beds that a weed-eater
could handle. Unfortunately, they were all booked until the
After a couple of weeks, my lawn started to look like a jungle of tall
grass mixed with pine cones and a thatch of pine needles, and I knew I
could not continue to depend on a neighbor to be an unpaid
yardman. I was in a quandary as to how to solve the problem until
providence or some benevolent entity solved if for me.
Across the street from my house there was a two-story home that had
been on the market for only a short time before it was sold. No one had
seen anyone who may have been a prospective buyer, and it was
surprising when an Atlas World-Wide Moving Van arrived and started
unloading furniture. An ever bigger shock was when a a group of
four young military or college age men arrived and moved in. Of
course, four males occupying one house was a gossip generating mystery
as to how they could purchase a home together until Paul Marks. a
hunky, good-looking, unfortunately married stud who
lived in the second house behind theirs found out that the property had
been bought by an agency that specialized in rental properties. That
solved the mystery although several people were still concerned
about the wild parties they assumed young people were wont to hold,
threatening to call the police if they did. In general most of
us agreed that it really was none of our
business one way of the other as long as they were not as wild and
noisy as some thought they would be. If they did, we would cross
that bridge at the appropriate time.
* * * * * * * *
After a few weeks the neighborhood returned to normal and everyone was
more concerned with their own affairs than those of the new
neighbors. It may have been a disappointment to some, but the
loud raucous parties never developed. Every now and
then on an irregular schedule, one or the other of the boys would
cut the grass and do
some trimming of the bushes but not that often for the property to be
considered as a candidate for Homes and Gardens.
I can't say that the eye candy was not appreciated though, they were
four good-looking boys, and even from a distance it was obvious they
were extremely well built. Maybe there was an ulterior motive
lurking in my sub conscious, but I was in need of help and the
thought that one of them
might be interested in earning some extra money crossed my mind.
At first, I was tempted
to ask them but the seeming lack of
enthusiasm for doing their own lawn work wasn't very convincing, and I
decided it would be better to drop the
I had been checking the newspaper help wanted ads hoping to find
someone interested in yard work and one morning when I was checking the
ads, my door-bell rang. Opening the door, I was shocked to see
one of the young men from across the street standing on the other side
storm door. Before I could speak, he said, "Mr. Collins, my name
is Pat, Patrick O'Connor. I don't intend to intrude, but my
buddies and me heard you have been sick," he stammered, sort of
shifting from one foot to the other but not loosing eye contact as he
haven't seen you outside working in your yard, and a couple of us
thought you might need some help. The other guys have busier
schedules than mine during the day; so, I was wondering if
maybe I could
give you a hand."
My young visitor had clear green, almost bronze-green eyes, and what
many might consider classic Irish features. He had a broad
forehead, high cheekbones, an aquiline nose softened by full, inviting
lips and a square chin. His thick blond hair glistened golden in the
morning sunlight and from what I
could see, his sideburns were neatly trimmed, and his hair was neatly
tapered on the nape of his thick neck. He was approximately six
foot tall and wearing a dark blue sweat suit with U.S. Navy
emblazoned in gold letters across the front of the jersey. It was
difficult to make a closer assessment other than he appeared to be an
excellent, well-groomed specimen of male masculinity in his late teen
I felt the inevitable surge in my groin, and a cold sweat of
nervousness spreading over me as my mind conjured up thoughts other
than those regarding the grooming of my lawn. "Help me, yes, yes
can," I thought lecherously as I extended my hand, smiling to cover my
"Dwyane Collins, Pat," I said as we shook hands and, I noticed that
unlike some, his grip was firm and
strong. "Nice meeting you, Pat, would you like to come in for a moment,
and we can talk over something cold."
"Yes, Sir," he said in a strong baritone as he stepped across the
threshold. "I've got nothing but time on my hands until nineteen
hundre...sorry, I meant seven o'clock tonight."
"Military time," I replied, "Don't hear that to often since I retired
from the Navy, Pat. Am I right in assuming you are or were in the
navy," I said as I shut the door.
"Still in, Sir," he said, turning to follow me as I passed by him
inhaling the exciting aroma of a musk cologne or body wash gel.
"Still in," I replied over my shoulder. "Would that be for four or six
years years?" I asked.
"Only four years," he answered as he followed. "I was eighteen
when I enlisted, but I'll be twenty-two just before I'm discharged next
"Twenty-two," I thought to myself , a little enviously, as we stepped
out onto the backyard screened in porch, and I pulled a chair away from
the table saying, . "What would you like, Pat, beer, mixed drink
or maybe a Pepsi or Coke?"
"A beer would be great, Mr. Collins," he said as he sat down.
"Miller Lite, okay?"
"Sure thing," he replied, looking at me an grinning as he leaned back
in the chair, and sat with his legs splayed wide open, one elbow on the
glass topped table with his hand dangling over his crotch and the other
hand on his broad thigh.
"Miller Lite it is,'" I said, attempting to suppress my excitement, and
inhaling deeply at what any gay man would consider a provocative
It was for the benefit of a few friends that visited every now and then
that I kept any beer at all in my fridge. Having Miller Lite on
the fault of Danny Miller, an old fuck buddy that dropped in
whenever he was horny. He had brought it on his last visit, and
for that I was grateful. Normally, bourbon and water was my
usual drink but out of deference to my young guest, I extracted two
beers from the fridge.
"Pat, would you like a glass?" I called out.
"The bottle is okay, Mr.Collins," he answered. "No need to use a
"Pat," I said as I handed him his beer. "How about we drop the Mr.
Collins and you call me 'Dwyane' or just 'D'?
"I like Dwyane," he said glancing at me with a twinkle in his eyes as
swallowed several gulps of his beer.
"Now that that is settled," I said, sitting down on the other side of
the table. "I've been needing someone to take care of the yard as you
can see, and I appreciate your offer of help, Pat, as long as it's okay
with your roommates."
"That's no problem, Mr...,Dwyane," he said as he finished his beer and
set it gently on the table. "They can't bitch about me helping you, I
do most of what is done in our yard anyway."
"Oh," I replied, nodding and glancing at his empty bottle. "You
pretty quickly, would you like
"If it's all right with you," he answered, scooting the chair around
and stretching his legs out crossing them at the ankles.
* * * * * * * *
I nursed my beer while Pat
drank his second, talking about his time in the navy, what he had
learned and done, and where he had been which he said was no
where really, and was one of the reasons he was not sure about
re-enlisting. We talked briefly about when I had served
some years before he had enlisted,
and he asked if I had liked it. When I answered in the
affirmative, he said,
"I'd kind of like to stay in, and I like being on board ship
and traveling; but there are so many damned
regulations about what a guy can and cannot do," he said, falling
silent for a few seconds and draining his beer.
I hesitated before speaking, not sure if he was going to say anything
else. I did realize that we had not really spoken about working
in my yard, but I was more interested in a few prime comments he
had made and his body language. He had consciously or
subconsciously moved his hand from his thigh and pushed it between them
into his crotch while he drank with his other hand.
"You wouldn't have another would you, Dwayne?" he asked after finishing
his second beer, his voice
softer than it had been earlier, but his words still clear and concise
as he spoke.
I heard his chair move as I was getting his third beer. He had
straightened up with his legs not splayed as wide as they had been
earlier. When I handed him his beer, he looked up at me with a
twinkle in his eyes and then glanced down as he took it from me.
Following his glance, I saw the not to subtle movement of his
free hand moving over the inside of his thigh up into his crotch, his
fingers outlining the elongated bulge stretched over his hip and thigh
Swallowing and breathing in deeply, trying to act as if I hadn't
noticed, I was returning to my chair when I heard him say in sexy,
guttural tone, "You want some of this don't you, Dwyane?"
"What makes you think that?" I asked, nervously, twisting my chair away
from under the table before sitting down sideways in an attempt to
remove the hardon growing in my crotch from his view.
"The little things that most gay guys notice," he answered in a
seductive tone, still
squeezing and stroking what was an obviously impressive cock.
"I've seen the guys that visit you, especially one real swisher
who anyone would pick out as being gay. The way he walks swinging his
hips is a dead giveaway, Dwyane, and when I saw the dirty but
still visible gay emblem on the back of your car that was the clincher,
straight or bisexual people don't display gay emblems."
"Is that all?" I replied, trying to be nonchalant.
"No," he replied, breathing in deeply as he stood up. "You've been
trying to hide it but, straight guys
don't look at other guys the way you've been looking at me since you
opened the door, and the way you're trying to hide your hardon. That's
enough to tell me you are as gay as me," he said as he slowly
pulled his sweat shirt over
his head revealing a gorgeously developed torso.
"God Pat," I whispered, my eyes devouring the chiseled magnificence of
his chest, the dark brown twin nipples surrounded by large,
slightly brown aureoles jutting out from each breast muscle, enhancing
the beauty of his chest. A thin dusting of golden hair covered
the upper portion of his chest gathering at the
sternum before cascading down between ridges of hard abdominal
muscle. covering his navel before disappearing into the top of his
sweat pants. The well developed but not bulging forearms and
of his arms tapered smoothly from thick trapeziuis neck and deltoid
shoulder muscles. Chest and shoulder muscles were accentuated by
the flare of his lateral muscles and a small almost wasp like waist.
Kicking his canvas deck shoes off, he moved toward me, his hands
teasingly moving over his cock and groin. Trapping my legs
between his knees, he thrust his groin forward softly
growling, "Touch it , Dwyane, squeeze, you know you want
"Oh, shit," I groaned, throwing caution to the wind as I succumbed
to the raging fire burning in my loins, and reached for the hidden
bulge only inches from my lips. His cock felt like a hot steel rod, and
as I wrapped my fingers around its throbbing length. Squeezing and
stroking it gently, I heard Pat sucking air between his teeth as
he inhaled, groaning softly and thrusting his hips forward as he untied
the drawstring holding his sweat pants up.
A wave of uncontrolled excitement swept over me as his magnificently
circumcised cock sprang free, literally bouncing with the force of a
springboard, spewing pre seminal fluid from it's urethral
aperture. "Jesus, Pat," I whispered, trembling as I ran my
the back of his hard muscled thighs to the solid flesh of his buttocks
"Do you want to suck it, Dwayne or do you want to feel my rod filling
your asshole?" he asked, running his hands through my hair and sounding
almost triumphant. "Either way is good by me," he said, pressing his
hands against the thick golden bush around it's thick base, and
teasingly waving his smooth tapered cock before my quivering lips.
I didn't have to answer, my lips parted automatically, and I felt the
pressure of his hands holding my head in place as he slowly thrust his
Any thoughts of lawn grooming were dispelled from my head as his thick
cock slid between my lips. The fire in my loins surged as inch by
inch his pre-cum drooling cock penetrated the depths of my mouth,
touching the entrance to my throat. As much as I wanted all of him, I
knew his cock would not be able to fill my throat from the way he was
standing and I was sitting. When I started to withdraw, he held
my head tightly as he started a slow piston movement, fucking my
My cock felt as if it would explode but there was no way I could free
it from the confines of my jeans, and I cursed mentally at being so
stupid as to having not worn my robe or at the very least loose fitting
shorts. Readjusting it until it was stretched out along my inner
thigh, I squeezed and stroked it's throbbing length, matching Pats
energetic but gently thrusts until we almost simultaneously
reached thunderous climaxes. My sperm was gushing, soaking
my jeans and Pat's stupendous climax filled my mouth forcing me to
swallow rapidly or drown.
Pat hugged me tightly to him as his cock softened, and I was trying to
drain every drop of the delicious nectar his magnificent shaft had
provided. I could feel sticky sperm soaking the thick hair
surrounding the base of my
wilting cock, but in the afterglow of pleasure it was only an
incidental, I was enjoying the taste of the soft cock still not quite
filling my mouth.
It was only a few minutes but in the surreal atmosphere that had
surrounded us, it seemed like ages. I was reluctant to release
Pat's cock until, chuckling softly, he said, "Dwayne, you can have it
anytime you want it."
"I'm sorry, Pat," I said as his cock slipped from my lips to rest on
walnut sized balls, impressive even in it's flaccid state. "It's been
so long since, oh, you know what I mean," I exclaimed.
"Yeah, I do," he said softly, his beautiful green eyes glowing as he
leaned over and placed his lips to mine . The kiss lingered for several
seconds. His probing tongue felt like a satin javelin dueling with mine
as we searched the velvety recesses of our mouths.
As our lips parted, he rubbed my nose with mine as he asked, 'Can I
take a shower?"
"On one condition," I replied, standing and rubbing my hands over his
chest. "Only if you allow me to take one with you," I said as I
stripped my shirt and sperm soaked jeans off.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he chuckled, kicking his sweat
pants from around his ankles, his eyes glistening as he gazed at
my naked body. Moving slowly toward me, he growled, "I knew you were
pretty well built from watching you; but from the size of your cock, we
are going to have a lot of fun."
"Do you think so?" I said as we slipped an arm around each others
waist, and walked toward the master bathroom.
* * * * * * * *
Pat became my permanent yardman.
and it was not long before my yard was almost the show place of the
neighborhood. We never did discuss payment for services; we
didn't really have to. We both benefited from his work.