Construction Days

© by The Lavender Quill, 2002

Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of male/male sex between consenting adults. If that sort of thing bothers you, or you are a minor, or it is illegal for you to read this type of content under the laws of your area, don’t read any further.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual people or events is purely coincidental.

Accolades, encouragement, suggestions, comments, and corrections are welcome and gladly accepted. Flames will be utterly ignored. <>.

Other work by The Lavender Quill can be found on the web at <>.

Setting: Sacramento, California, 2002.

Chapter 1.

"I'm Kevin," I said, holding out my hand to the young man in the Marine Corps uniform. "You must be Sam." We shook hands, and I intentionally held his a little too long, giving him my most winning smile.

"Yah," he said with a puzzled look. "And you are…?"

I laughed. I guessed he didn't come home every day to find a shirtless nineteen year old with a tool belt whom he'd never met hanging around his kitchen. "I'm with Adams Construction. I'm building a new fence for your mother." I pointed out the back window. "She wanted me to try to get it all done before you got home on leave today, but it's been raining too much. I should be done by tomorrow."

"Oh," he said. "It's about time. I've been telling her for two years now that the old rotten fence was just going to blow down some day." He looked at me for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Well, I'm gonna change out of my uniform. I don't have to wear it for two whole weeks!"

He picked up his duffle bag, and headed down the hall to his bedroom. I debated whether or not I should tell him what I found in his bedroom when I was installing a new shelving system in his closet. Nah. I'd wait and see if he figured it out. He was kind of hot. I kind of wanted to jump his bones. But a marine? What if he decided to kick my ass?

I finished my soda, then went back outside and got back to work on the fence. The new posts were set in concrete, and the frame was done. The rest should go pretty quickly. I started the compressor, picked up the pneumatic nail gun, and started nailing up boards.

After a while, I saw Sam out of the corner of my eye. He had changed into jeans and a tee shirt. He didn't say anything to me, so I kept on working. He picked up an armload of planks, and started handing them to me, one at a time, for me to nail in place.

"You put in that new shelving system in my closet?" he eventually asked.

"Yup." I nailed up another plank.

"I wish she'd have had someone make that when I was still living at home. I'm not sure why she bothered now, since I only come home a couple times a year." I shrugged. I kept working. He kept handing me boards. After a while, I thought he wasn't going to say anything more. Then he said, "You opened my box." Not a question, but a statement.

The box. I hadn't opened it. I'd dropped it, its contents bursting out, magazines spewing out over the floor. Porn magazines. Gay porn magazines. "It was an accident," I said. "I wasn't trying to be nosey. I dropped it and everything flew out of it. Sorry." I let my nail gun hang loose at my side and looked at him.

"Did my mom see? Does she know?"

"Nope. Don't ask, don't tell," I quipped. I was sort of proud of that. I'm not usually a very quick wit. Though I suppose his mother had already told me he was a Marine, and I'd been thinking of that lame military policy.

He barely paused in handing me another board. We kept working for a while, neither saying anything to the other. I assumed he was relieved I hadn't said anything to anyone. Maybe he thought he owed me now.

"I don't really care if you're gay," I explained. "She never said anything about it. I figure it isn't any of my business to tell her. I'm just here to build a fence and take care of a couple other minor projects."

"Thanks," he said. "You're okay for a civilian."

That comment rankled a little. I'm not sure why. Maybe it sounded like he was thanking me and insulting me at the same time. I'm always a little suspicious of soldiers. Or cops. Guys with guns. I couldn't imagine myself in that role at all. I like action movies and stuff, but I couldn't imagine actually carrying a gun myself. I just knew that I was probably incapable of actually shooting someone if the need arose, regardless of the circumstances. So I guess I was always a little nervous around guys who WERE capable of doing something that scared the crap out of me. I wasn't sure if he said "civilian" in a way implying that soldiers were somehow superior to those of us who were not, or if I was just being overly sensitive, which I am sometimes prone to be.

"I'm not really gay, anyway," he said. "I should really toss those magazines. I was just curious when I was a kid, y'know. I date girls now. I forgot I still had that box around."

'Yah, sure,' I thought. It hadn't taken him ten minutes to figure out someone had been in his porno box.

I heard someone come out the back door, and we both turned to see his mother. "Hi Sam," she called. "I just went out to get some groceries. Did you see my note?"

"Yah," he said. Without another word to me, he put down the rest of the boards he'd been holding and went inside with his mother.

I worked on the fence for another couple of hours, then knocked off for the day. In the summer, we tend to start pretty early in the morning before it gets hot, and stop by mid afternoon. I loaded all my tools and equipment into my truck, a beat up old Mazda pickup with a canopy. Not as new or macho as some of the big trucks that some of the other contractors drove, but functional and all I could afford at the time. I took a hand towel and mopped some of the sweat off my face and smooth chest. I saw Sam watching me out a window. I pretended not to notice, and slowly wiped my torso and arms, giving him a little show. I know I'm no model, and I don't have huge muscles like a weight lifter, but I like to think I'm decent looking. I'm in pretty good shape from doing construction work. I worked summers for my uncle's construction company for two years before I finished high school, and I've been working full time for him since I graduated. Sam was still watching me as I threw the towel behind the seat and climbed in the cab. 'Sure he dates girls,' I laughed to myself as I started the truck and drove off.

* * * * *

The next day dawned with clear skies, and the weather forecasters were predicting a sunny day. Contractors have to pay attention to weather. I arrived to finish the fence job at 7:30am. I had my equipment out and everything ready to go by 8:00. I want to get an early start, but people complain if I start making too much noise too early. I usually figure its safe by 8:00. Some days when the forecasters are predicting a real cooker, I'll start real early and to hell with the whining neighbors.

The last part of a fence job is tedious, but goes pretty fast. The heavy work, digging the holes and setting the posts in concrete, is all done. The fence boards are light, and I'd already cut them all. At this stage, it was simply a matter of going down the row and nailing them in place. I noticed Sam watching me out a window every now and again. After working for about an hour, I took my shirt off. I wasn't doing it to show off. Well maybe a little. I almost always work shirtless once I start to warm up and sweat. Saves on laundry.

Around mid morning, Mrs. Warren and Sam left. I worked right through lunch, just taking a short break for a power bar and a soda. I finished by 2:00, and started to pack up my equipment. I was loading scrap wood into the back of my truck when the Warrens returned. Mrs. Warren dropped off Sam, and backed out of the driveway again without getting out of the car.

"I'm done with the fence," I said to Sam as he walked up to the front door. "I'll finish loading my tools and get you an invoice. Then I'll be gone."

"Sure. My mom went to get her hair done. I think that is an afternoon project. Just put the invoice on the kitchen table," he said. Then he went into the house.

I loaded the compressor and the rest of my tools. Then I cleaned myself up a little with a rag, wondering if he was watching. I took the invoice into the house. I didn't see Sam, so I walked into the kitchen and set it on the table.

I heard movement behind me and turned to see Sam standing there wearing nothing but a towel. His hair was damp. He had obviously just taken a shower. "I was just leaving the invoice," I said. I put two and two together. He knew I was nearly done. He had told me to bring the invoice in to the kitchen. I was pretty sure he had timed his shower so that he had an excuse to come out there wearing a towel when he knew I'd be there. Me with my shirt off, him in a towel, his mother gone for hours. You figure it out.

Not that I was complaining, mind you. He was pretty hot. I'd seen a couple pictures of him around the house, but they were older pictures, from high school and before he joined the Marines. He was definitely more buffed out now. He was an inch or two shorter than I, but much stockier. He had the build of a linebacker, only probably too short for any football past high school. Thick neck, big chest, lots of muscle.

He just stood there. I thought maybe he wasn't sure where to go next. I had said I didn't care whether or not he was gay, but I hadn't said anything about my own inclinations on the subject. I figured if anything was going to happen besides us gawking at each other, I was going to have to initiate it. So I did.

I walked over to Sam and groped his crotch through his towel. He didn't move at all. I just heard a light gasp from him. He looked away, but I could feel him getting hard. I took one of his hands in my free hand, and put in on my groin. He flinched a little, but kept his hand there and started to rub. We both got hard pretty quick then. I tried to kiss him, but he was having none of that. I like kissing. I don't know what it is, but I just like having my lips, mouth, and tongue on something. I love the taste of a guy's skin. I pulled him close and we ground our torsos together. I started kissing on his muscular neck, which he seemed fine with.

My dick was starting to hurt, being bound up in my pants. I'm not super huge, but I am a bit bigger than average, both in length and thickness. I stepped back and quickly undid my jeans and dropped them to the floor. I peeled my briefs off and dropped them too. Ah, blessed freedom. My cock jutted out proudly before me. I stepped back to Sam and pulled his towel away.

"Yum," I said, staring at his cock. He still hadn't uttered a word. His cock was as hard as mine, though a little smaller. We returned to the same position we were just in, only without the layers of cloth between us. Now it was just bare skin rubbing against bare skin from head to toe, bare hard cocks rubbing against each other.

Though I fantasize about guys all the time, I really didn't have much real experience. I'd had sex with a few guys, but it was always short term. I'd never had a steady boyfriend. Sam seemed even less experienced. He was clearly enjoying the experience, but didn't seem to know what to do next. Or was nervous or afraid of pursuing what he wanted. Whatever the reason, he was leaving it to me to take the initiative.

I decided I'd kissed on his neck long enough. I wanted to explore the rest of his body. I licked my way down to his chest, and sucked on one of his nipples. His chest seemed so huge to me. The few guys I'd been with in the past were all like me or skinnier. This guy must really work out. I loved how his big pectorals felt under my hands.

I continued down. His chest was a nice diversion, but I was impatient to get to his cock. I traced the trail of hair from his belly button down to the base of his cock. Then in my eagerness, I took most of his cock into my mouth in one go. He gasped. I licked around his shaft to make it more slippery. I held his hips as I worked his cock in and out of my mouth. His legs were like stubby tree trunks of hard muscle. He moaned as I bobbed on his cock, eagerly taking it as deep into my mouth as I could on each stroke. I moved my hands back to his ass. I have big hands, and I could still barely grasp the massive twin globes of his ass cheeks. I continued to suck on him as I ran a finger down the crack of his ass. I felt his cock surge in my mouth when I touched his opening. I rubbed my finger up and down right on his ass hole, and I could hear his breathing quicken.

It was obvious he was on the verge of coming. I had a split second debate in my mind. Part of me wanted him to come in my mouth. When I'd been with guys before, that had been my biggest thrill. But I could tell that what was getting Sam off was not just me sucking his cock, but me fingering his ass hole too. He liked that. I wondered if he'd let me fuck him. I'd never done that before. Well, not really. I'd tried it with one other guy, but he was quite thin, and he said it hurt too much when I was only half way in. He got scared and couldn't relax. I don't think we had enough lube either. I decided that I wanted to try again with Sam. He was bigger, I reasoned (if one can reason at a time like that), and more likely to be able to take it.

I let his cock slip out of my mouth and took my finger away from his ass. I licked my way back up his hard flat stomach and bulging chest. When I stood, I put my hands on his broad shoulders and pushed down. "Your turn," I said.

He skipped my torso, and dropped right to his knees. He licked his lips, grasped my cock by the base and took it into his mouth. He started slow, but quickly built up speed. He seemed quite eager for someone who professed to date girls now. I thrust my hard dick into his soft warm mouth. God it felt good. It had been many months since I had felt anything but my own right hand on my cock. In almost no time, I was on the verge. I took a step back before I lost my resolve.

He looked up at me. He had a look on his face like he wondered if he'd done something wrong. I reached down and grabbed his hand. "Not so fast," I said. I looked around. "Come here." I led him over to the kitchen table, kicking my jeans along with me -- there was a condom in one of the pockets. I pushed him onto his back on the table with his legs hanging over the side. It looked sturdy enough, a heavy oak thing. I spotted a butter dish on the counter next to the table. Butter is slippery, I decided. Standing between his legs, I started sucking his cock again. I licked my way down the outside of his shaft till I reached his balls. I licked his balls too. He spread his legs, and I licked around his ball sack, taking a testicle in my mouth and sucking gently. He moaned.

I smeared some butter on a finger and started to rub it into the crack of his ass. He spread his legs further apart and lifted his knees higher. I continued to suck on his balls as I slipped my finger into his ass. I could feel him clamp down on my finger, but it was slick enough that I was easily able to push it all the way in anyway. He still didn't say anything. He kept his legs spread wide, and he didn't push me away. His cock was hard and pressed flat against his stomach. I licked my way up his shaft and started slipping my finger slowly in and out of his ass. He quickly relaxed, so I pulled my finger out and smeared some more butter on two fingers. When I shoved two fingers in, he flinched and clamped down again. After a few seconds he relaxed, and I started to slip two fingers in and out. Remembering my previous failed attempt, I wanted to make sure he was really relaxed and slick before I tried to put my dick in. He grasped the backs of his knees with his hands and held his legs far apart.

When I thought he seemed relaxed enough, I pulled my fingers out. He held himself in that position. His face was turned to the side and his eyes were clamped shut. I scrambled in my jeans and found my condom. I quickly pealed it open and slipped it over my raging hard-on. I scooped a glob of butter and smeared it all over my rubber sheathed cock. I didn't know if butter was an approved lube for condoms--I vaguely remembered something about not using oil, but at that moment, I didn't care. I held my cockhead at his ass hole and pushed. My cock popped in, and I felt him clamp down, just as he had with my fingers. I waited a few seconds, and he relaxed a little. Then I shoved all the way in. It felt so good, I almost came on the first stroke. I stopped with my cock completely buried in his ass.

I fondled his cock and balls with my butter smeared hand. His erection had softened a little when I entered him, but it quickly grew back to full hardness as I stroked him. Sure this guy liked girls, I thought. He was hard as a rock with my big cock shoved up to the hilt in his ass. When I came down off the edge a little, I began to fuck him and jack him off at the same time. I started with a couple of slow strokes, not wanting to hurt him, but I quickly lost control and started really pumping him. I think I was a little mad at him for being such a fucking hypocrite, so I really gave it to him good. I didn't last ten strokes, I don't think, and started blasting come into the condom.

When I stopped coming, I took a breath and looked down, finally wondering how Sam was doing. His stomach and chest were covered with his own come. Odd that I hadn't even noticed when he'd done it.

"God that was hot," I said. I pulled out of him, making sure I had the condom with me. I stood for a couple of minutes, just panting. Sam let his legs down. He was panting too. He still hadn't said a word, and he still didn't look at me. He liked it, but he wasn't prepared to admit it. I walked over and picked his towel up off the floor. I tossed it to him so he could clean himself up.

I slipped the condom off my softening prick. Yuk. What do you do with a slimy used condom full of cooling come? I certainly wasn't going to toss it in the trash and risk Mrs. Warren finding it. I decided the toilet was the best way to get rid of it, so I headed for the bathroom. I flushed the thing, then washed up a little in the sink. Sam came in, holding his messy towel in front of him, like he was embarrassed for me to see his dick.

"I'm gonna have a shower," he said. "You should probably go before my mom gets home." He still wouldn't look at me. What was going through this poor guy's head?

"Okay," I said. I turned to step out of the bathroom. "I'll leave my number on the invoice. Call me if you want to get together again while you're on leave."

I walked back to the kitchen. I put my jeans back on and scribbled my number on the invoice. I was going to say good bye to Sam, but he didn't seem to want to talk to me, and I could hear the shower running, so I just left.

I thought most likely I would never hear from him again. But you never know. Maybe he'd want a repeat performance. Or maybe he might just want to talk.

(To be continued.)