This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.
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Note: Thanks to Tim and Rock for feedback on the draft chapters. I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and catching all those silly little errors I missed.
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Right after Christmas, Derek's parents and sister moved up to DC. They planned to come back to Indian Crossing once a month or so. His dad was very busy but enjoying preparing for his new job as our Congressman. Derek's mother was enjoying the social whirl of Washington.
Derek was going to be living at his grandfather's until graduation in early June. Then he would join his family up in DC for the summer before heading off to college in the fall.
We didn't have basketball practice the week after Christmas, so Art and I planned to work almost nonstop on the old house. We were almost done tearing out the walls and old plaster, and were hoping to begin installing the new duct work before the start of school and basketball practice in January.
Art lived in a house that he'd renovated the previous year. Since it was right on the way from my house to the place we were renovating, he suggested that I stop at his place in the morning. Then we'd take only one vehicle to the job site.
I pulled into his driveway about 7:30 in the morning the day after Christmas. His house was a brick ranch, maybe from the late fifties or early sixties. The carport held two vehicles: an old beat up Chevy van that Art used to haul building material and tools, and his shiny red recent-model Mustang. Knowing we'd be taking the van, I pulled up and parked behind the Mustang.
The sun wasn't fully above the horizon yet. There was a light on in the kitchen. I knocked, and Art came striding in the kitchen from another area of the house. He was dressed in his jeans and work boots but didn't have a shirt on. I'd never seen him shirtless before. Woof! He had a lanky build. His chest wasn't thick, but it was broad with squarish pectoral muscles. His chest was pretty hairy, which surprised me because I'd never seen any evidence of chest hair poking up over the tops of his shirts or the crew neck tee shirts he wore under his work shirts. The reason I hadn't realized it before was because his chest hair didn't start until almost the lower third of his pecs. When it did start, it was thick. The dark hair framed the outline of his pecs, almost hiding his quarter-sized nipples, then running down in a neat narrow line before spreading out across his lower abdomen and disappearing under the waist of his jeans.
He motioned for me to come in the door.
"Sorry, I'm not quite ready. I must have forgotten to set the alarm clock when I got back from Savannah last night. Want a cup of coffee?"
He pulled a mug out of one of the kitchen cabinets and handed it to me. "The coffee's over there. The milk's in the refrigerator."
I poured my coffee, added some milk, and replaced the milk carton back in the fridge.
"I like what you did in here with the kitchen."
"That's right; you haven't ever been here before. Bring your coffee; I'll take you on a little tour."
Art kept up a running commentary as we moved from room to room.
The kitchen was a roomy eat-in with a table and chairs at one end. From the kitchen, Art led me into a family room with built-in bookshelves and lots of electronic equipment...big screen TV, sound system, VCR, and DVD. Off the family room was an entry foyer with a hallway leading to the other side of the house. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom on the front side of the house. One obviously served as his home office. The other was set up as a guest room. The master bedroom suite was on the backside of the house. Art's bed was unmade, and there were some clothes across the back of a chair. Other than that, the room was darn neat...for a guy. At least a lot neater than I usually kept my room.
I noticed a bottle of something sitting on the floor beside the bed. It dawned on me that it was a bottle of some kind of personal lubricant. I blushed deeply with the evidence that my math teacher spanked the monkey.
The master bathroom was, I thought, the best room in the house. It had a large spa type tub and a separate oversized shower stall. The commode was between the long vanity and the shower. The mirror extended the full length of the vanity and in back of the commode. It struck me that you'd be able to watch yourself pee into the commode in the mirror.
"Well, what do you think?"
"I like it. You did a real nice job here, but I think you're going to do even better with the other house."
He popped me on the shoulder. "We are going to do better with the other house. I'd still be tearing the walls out in the upstairs if you hadn't been helping me. Speaking of that, let's get cracking. We've only got a week before we both have to be back at school."
I stood in the bedroom as he pulled on a tee shirt and put a work shirt on over it. What a shame to cover up that sexy, hairy chest. I wondered if he had a hairy ass, and my dick gave a little jolt inside my boxers. I quickly put those thoughts out of my head.
We worked steadily all day with only a break to eat the sandwiches we'd both packed for lunch. It was nearly six in the evening when he pulled the van back under the shelter of his carport.
Both of us were covered in dirt and grime.
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Yup, I'll try to remember to set the alarm tonight."
I opened the front and back doors of my Impala, removed an old blanket from the back seat, and spread it out over the driver's seat to protect it from my filthy clothes.
Art spoke up, "It never dawned on me that you've been getting your car all dirty."
"I just spread this over the seat, and I wash the blanket every third day or so."
"Why don't you bring a change of clothes with you and take a shower here before going home. That will be an even better way to keep your car seat clean."
"That makes sense. That is, if you don't mind."
"I wouldn't have said anything if I minded."
"Okay, thanks. I'll do that tomorrow."
Art must have set his alarm that night `cause he was dressed and ready to go when I showed up at his house the next morning.
We finished the last of the tearing out by early afternoon, and then spent the rest of the day cleaning up the inside of the house, which was pretty much just a shell at that point. All the kitchen cabinets and bathroom fixtures were gone, several walls had been removed, and all the debris had either been carted off to the landfill, burned, or piled up in the back yard ready to be burned. The house was empty. We were ready to start the rebuilding process.
Back at his house, Art told me to use the shower in the hall bathroom while he cleaned up in his shower. He had soap, shampoo, and towels already laid out on the vanity counter. It felt really good to wash away the grime from the work site, and while I was soaping up my cock, I almost popped a boner thinking about Art being naked in the other bathroom.
I gathered my dirty clothes into a bag I'd brought along for that purpose, and dressed in my clean clothes. I stepped out into the hallway just as Art was emerging from his room.
He was dressed in just a pair of basketball shorts. You know the baggy, silky looking ones that come down to your knees. My eyes went first to his chest to admire his hairy torso again before moving down to his bare shins and feet. Dang, they were covered in hair, too. My eyes moved back up and momentarily locked on his crotch where the tip of his dick pushed out the silky fabric of his shorts. Afraid I'd be caught checking out his goods, I quickly tore my eyes away and looked at his face.
He didn't give any indication that he realized I'd just checked him out.
"It feels good to get all that grime off."
I showed up at his doorstep at the same time the next morning. Art was ready.
"Mornin', Brett. Grab some coffee. You know where the stuff is. Say, I feel like celebrating the fact that we've finished with the first phase of the project. I've got a couple of steaks in the freezer, why don't you stay and have dinner with me tonight?"
"That sounds great. Let me call Daddy and tell him I won't be home for dinner."
I made the call, and then we climbed into his van and headed up to a building supply store in Waycross. We were going to begin to install the new duct work for the heating and air conditioning, and we needed to get some supplies.
That trip ended up taking most of the morning so we ate an early lunch at a McDonald's before heading back to Indian Crossing. Listen, I know what you're thinking. What's so special about eating at a McDonald's? Remember that Indian Crossing didn't have a McDonald's. In fact, it didn't have any of the fine eating establishments that have come to be so common in the American landscape. Fast food in Indian Crossing was a grilled cheese and coke at Herman's Drug Store.
Installing the new duct work took a lot less physical effort than tearing out walls. It was also a whole heck of a lot cleaner. We weren't nearly as black with grime when we finished work for the day.
I remarked on it during the ride back to Art's house.
He smiled. "Yup, the duct work and wiring take time, but it's not bad work. After we get those jobs done, we'll start putting the new insulation in the walls and ceiling. That's the worst job."
"Because bits of the fiberglass insulation get inside your clothes and itch like crazy. You'll see what I'm talking about when we get to that point."
"I can't wait."
After showering, I put on clean jeans, sneakers, and a flannel shirt. Art dressed casually in an old pair of baggy sweat pants cut off at the knees, a sleeveless sweat shirt, and sandals. I could see the outline of his dick against the cotton of the sweat pants. It looked like he was going commando. I felt overdressed compared to him.
Art normally dressed in nice slacks and a dress shirt at school. I was seeing a whole new side to his wardrobe that I'd never imagined before.
When I remarked on it, he said, "Yup, I try to look professional at school, but I really prefer these old clothes. Actually, if you weren't here, I'd probably not even bother with these clothes and just walk around naked. Let me get the grill started. Can you manage a salad? Stuff's there in the fridge."
"I can manage."
He opened the refrigerator and paused.
"Would it bother you if I had a beer?"
"No. Can I have one, too?"
"I think I could get in major trouble for that."
"What if I had my daddy's permission?"
He chuckled, "Are you going to call your father and ask him?"
"Sure." I grabbed the phone and dialed.
After a couple of rings, Daddy picked up.
"Hey, Daddy, it's me. We're back at Mr. Langdon's house getting ready for dinner. He's going to have a beer, can I have one, too."
He laughed a little, "Well, I'm glad you're asking me. I don't see a problem with one beer. As long as it's only one beer, and you don't drive for at least an hour after you finish it. You've sipped some from my bottle now and then, but I don't think you've ever had a whole beer, right?"
"Yes, Sir, that's right."
"Okay, let me talk with Mr. Langdon."
I handed the phone to Art, who looked quite nervous.
As I dug around in the refrigerator for salad fixings, I listened to Art's part of the conversation with my Daddy.
"Hello, Mr. Privette, this is Art Langdon......Yes, we got a good bit of work done today.....We're just getting ready to start dinner.....That's right.....Well, I wasn't going to have a beer if it bothered him. It's fine with me.....Okay.....Okay.....I'll make sure of that. One beer and one hour. Good-bye."
He hung up the phone, reached into the fridge, retrieved two bottles of beer, and handed one to me.
"You're father's more liberal than a lot of parents around here would be. He also stands his ground. I was impressed the way he stood up to Mr. Longworth in his office."
"Daddy's great. My brother and I don't keep any secrets from him."
"You're lucky. A lot of young people can't relate to their parents like that."
Art opened our beers, and then went out the glass doors in the den to light the gas grill for the steaks. I worked on the salad.
We popped a couple of potatoes in the microwave, set the table, put on the steaks, and stood sipping our beers and talking on the back deck while the steaks cooked.
The meal was great. Simple, and filling.
He and I cleaned up the dishes and then found a basketball game to watch on TV. I left for home about nine in the evening.
The next day we worked again on the duct work. At one point I asked Art what he was doing on New Year's Eve.
"I'm supposed to go to a party with some friends in Savannah. If you don't mind, we'll still work a full day. The party's not going to start until later in the evening. I don't plan on being back on New Year's Day, so it looks like you'll have a day off."
"Thanks, slave driver, I could use one."
"Yeah, but just think of all the money you'll be missing."
"All work and no play makes Brett a very unhappy boy."
"So what are your plans? Big date with Caitlin?"
I laughed. "No, Caitlin and I are more like friends than boyfriend and girlfriend. Besides her family's got some plans, and Derek's up in DC with his folks. Looks like I'm going to have a great New Year's Eve with Daddy and Scott. We'll probably watch football all New Year's Day."
"I plan to catch some of the games, too. That is, after I recover from the party."
"Woohoo! Mr. Langdon, the party animal."
He gave me the finger.
I just laughed at him.
When we walked into his kitchen that evening, Art said, "You know where everything is in the bathroom, go and get your shower. Listen, I noticed that you're wearing the same work clothes as yesterday. You washed `em when you got home last night, right?"
"Yeah, they were pretty dirty."
Why don't you leave your work clothes here? I wash mine every night; I'll just run yours through with mine. No sense in you carrying them back home dirty every night."
"Thanks. That'd work. Sometimes our old washing machine can be a little cantankerous."
When I left for home, Art, dressed in just those cut off sweat pants of his, was loading our work clothes into the washer.
The next day we finished putting in the duct work, so on New Year's Eve day we started running the new electrical wiring. The weather was miserable. It was foggy and rainy with the temperature hovering around 38. There was no heat in the place we were renovating yet, so it was darn cold inside as well. We kept our coats on and wore gloves whenever we could, but we still had to do a lot of work with our bare hands.
By quitting time, it was even colder, and some of the fog was starting to form ice on the branches of the trees. We had to scrape a thin layer of ice from the windshield of Art's van before heading home.
"Man, this looks nasty. I'm not sure I want to drive to Savannah in this stuff."
"You'd better check the weather when you get back home. Sometimes this fog and ice is just on this side of the swamp."
"Wish the radio in this old van worked. Should have gotten it fixed."
We didn't talk much on the rest of the drive. The fog seemed to be getting thicker, and Art was concentrating on the road. We turned off the main road onto Art's street, and the back end of the van swung around.
We ended up facing the opposite direction.
Art sat there with his hands on the wheel. "Shit! I may need clean britches after that!"
"You and me both."
He carefully eased his foot on the accelerator. The van moved forward.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned the van around, and just as slowly, made his way down to his house at the end of the street. The truck only slid once again before he nosed it under the shelter of the carport.
My car was sitting outside the carport behind Art's Mustang. It was encased in a sheet of ice.
The message light was blinking when we got into the kitchen. It was Daddy asking me to call him as soon as I could.
I dialed the phone.
"Hey, Daddy, it's me."
"Brett, I'm glad to hear from you. It's really icy out here."
"It's pretty bad here in town, too. Feels like the temperature's dropped a little just since we left the work site."
"Listen, Brett, I'm real concerned about you driving home with the ice on the roads. I'd rather come and get you than have you drive in this."
"Daddy, it doesn't make any sense for you to come get me. If it's too dangerous for me to drive, then it's too dangerous for you to drive."
Art motioned for me to give him the phone.
"Hello, Mr. Privette, this is Art Langdon. Brett's welcome to stay here tonight.....Well, I was going to go see some friends in Savannah, but I don't want to make that trip with the road conditions like this.....Don't worry, I'll be glad for the company....."
Art smiled at something Daddy said, and winked at me.
"Don't worry, Mr. Privette, I'll take care of that.....Thanks, and goodnight."
"What was that smile about?"
"Your dad was glad that you're going to be here and safe...and since you're not going to be driving home, he said there wasn't a limit on the number of beers you could have."
"That sounds like Daddy. Actually, cold beer doesn't sound too good right now. I'm freezing."
"Yeah, your jacket isn't really up to this kind of weather. You were shivering every once in a while all day. Come on, I've got just the thing."
I followed him into his bedroom and then into the master bathroom. He knelt down and started running hot water in the big spa tub.
"Strip off and get into the tub, and I'll go mix up a hot drink. Between the water and the drink, you'll be warm in no time."
Art left. I followed his instructions and stripped off my clothes and climbed into the warm water. Man, it felt good!
I let the water run until I could lie all the way down with just my face above the water. The warmth was wonderful. I hadn't realized how cold I'd been.
Art reappeared with two steaming mugs. He handed one of them to me.
"Here's a hot toddy. It's honey, whiskey, and lemon. All purpose cure for colds and cold nights."
I sipped the drink. Not bad. In fact, it was darn good!
Art leaned against the vanity and sipped his drink. I wasn't really embarrassed being naked like that in front of Art, but I was glad he hadn't seen me when I first got in the tub. The cold had made my dick and balls shrink up to almost nothing. Now, after only a couple of minutes in the warm water, things were more back to normal.
"How're the drink and the tub?"
"Great on both counts."
"Good, then you should really like this."
He flipped a switch on the wall that controlled the air jets in the tub. Even better!
"Wow, that's great, too. I could stay in this all night."
"Trust me, you don't want to do that. The jets are on a timer. When they go off, it's time to get out. Otherwise, you'll look like a prune."
"Now I know why you put this thing in here...it's big enough for two."
"I'll take that as an invitation, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I can wait until you're done."
"No, that's okay. It won't bother me. Besides, it's your tub."
As Art stripped off his clothes, I tried to make it look like I wasn't looking, but I was really looking. I'd already seen him shirtless, but I still enjoyed seeing his nicely formed and moderately hairy chest emerge from under his shirt. Next off were his work boots and socks. Then the thing I'd been waiting for, his pants. He was commando. He shucked off his jeans and stood there in all his glory for a second. Either he had a monster cock or else he wasn't nearly as cold as I'd been. His dick was uncut and probably four or five inches long with a respectable nipple of skin beyond the head. His sac was hairy, and his nuts looked to be moderate in size. All of that was framed in thick pubic hair. He turned around to toss his pants toward the corner of the bathroom giving me a view of his ass. As I suspected, it was covered with short dark hairs. The hairs between his two cheeks seemed darker and longer. My covert inspection of his body stopped when he climbed into the tub with me, and the bubbly water hid his lower body from view.
He settled into the water facing me so our legs were touching one another. His cock and balls disappeared from view in the bubbles created by the air jets. If I couldn't see his cock, then it stood to reason that he couldn't see mine. That was probably a good thing, because mine was starting to get longer.
For several minutes, we reclined side by side in the tub facing each other and sipping on our drinks. I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.
That's probably why I did what I did next.
I put my hand down in the water and started massaging his foot and ankle that were touching my left hip.
When I touched him, Art's eyes opened wide. He looked at me and then smiled before closing his eyes again.
I continued to massage his foot, using both hands. I extended the range of my massage above his ankle to his knee which was as far as I could reach without sliding further down into the water.
Art started massaging my left foot.
That's all the encouragement I needed. I picked up his foot and placed it squarely in my crotch. That allowed me to go just a little past his knee with my hands. It also brought the side of his foot in contact with my hardening cock.
Art looked at me. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"
"Do you know what you're doing to me?"
He leaned forward. I met him half way, and we kissed. If my dick wasn't hard before the kiss, it darn sure was after. Art placed my foot in his crotch. He was hard, too.
"Are you warm enough now?"
I chuckled, "Oh, I'm a lot warmer than I was."
"So am I. Should we take this somewhere else that's nice and warm?"
"And where might that be?"
It took us a while to get to the bed. We had to dry each other first. That called for a little exploration with our hands. Then we had to try different types of kissing. He was good at all of them. Then we had to use our hands to check that every part of the other's body was dry, and that certain parts were turgid. The turgidity wasn't a problem for either of us.
We continued in his big bed. I loved the feel of his hairy chest and belly next to mine. I had a few stray chest hairs and the beginnings of a treasure trail from my pubes to my belly button, but the hairs were blond. You had to look real close to see them.
I buried my face in his crotch, taking in his scent. I pulled his foreskin back and ran my tongue around the glans. He moaned. I licked up one side of his pole and down the other before finally taking him into my mouth.
"Oh, man, this isn't your first time taking a cock in your mouth, is it?"
I didn't reply. My mouth was full.
Art pulled my head off his cock.
He moved around and began licking and sucking. Wow! He moved his mouth down past my balls into the space between my legs. When his tongue made contact with my pucker, I moaned in pleasure. He added a finger. He found my prostate, and I moaned louder.
He added another finger ‑ and I tensed up.
"Art, I've never done that."
"Then we won't do that tonight." He kept his fingers in my ass pressing against my prostate as he moved up to take my dong in his mouth.
He thrust his cock against my thigh as his mouth moved up and down on my cock. I warned him when I was about to come. He sucked harder. I came...and came...and came. I felt his own seed spilling out onto my thigh.
When my body stopped convulsing from the aftershocks of my orgasm, he slowly pulled his fingers out.
"You can say that again."
(To be continued)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters who play parts in this story were previously introduced in "When Love Comes" (last posted in the College section on Sept. 6, 2001), "Love of a Lifetime" (last posted in the College section on May 19, 2003), "Finding Family" (last posted in the College section on June 5, 2008), or "Construction Job" (last posted in the College section on July 24, 2008). While not necessary, readers may find it useful to read the earlier stories posted on this site. All of the Adams State/Carterville stories listed above as well as my other stories are also posted at www.crvboy.com.
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