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When I was a young teen, the song Stacy's Mom came out. I watched it on repeat, but not for the woman. I watched it for the sexy barely pubecent boy, shown shirtless and jerking off in a music video right on MTV. I was in closeted gay heaven. I watched the video on repeat, making fantasies in my head. 20 years later, I decided to write down one of those fantasies. I hope you enjoy.
"You ready for some yard work Shane?" he asked.
"Absolutely Mr. Smith."
We drove to Stacy's house, the wind blowing my shaggy hair. It was a hot day and the warm breeze felt good. Stacy sat up front with her dad and sat in the back. Mr. Smith kept stealing glances at me through the rear view. Every time he looked at me, his face turned into a smile. Stacy was completely oblivious to her father's blatant flirting, or what I interpreted as flirting. My heart hoped beyond hope that Mr. Smith would have the same feelings.
We pulled up into their driveway and Mr. Smith pulled the car into the garage. Stacy smiled and said, "see you soon" and ran up to her room to change.
"Alright, here's the mower," Mr. Smith said showing me a push mower. He showed me how to start it and asked if I had any questions. I didn't, so I got to work mowing their sizable lawn.
I hoped I would get another chance to sneak some secret, or not so secret, glances at Stacy's dad. As I mowed, the sun beat down. I started sweating heavily. My shirt was soaked, and the soft material clung to my small frame, showing off my budding physique. Stacy came out and lounged in a chair wearing a bikini and sipping a cold drink. She read a magazine and watched me mow.
After a while, a young tan man came into the lawn, rolling a cushioned table lined with white towels onto the patio. The young man had long dirty blond hair pulled into a ponytail and wore a tight-fitting white polo and white shorts. A few moments later Stacy's dad came out with just a towel on. I couldn't pull my eyes from his rippling body of masculinity. His towel was wrapped tightly around his waist, ridding low the top of his pubes just barely peeking out. He carefully pulled the towel aside, not letting me steal a glance, and climbed onto the table on his stomach. The young man began rubbing Mr. Smith down, giving him a thorough massage. I could tell Mr. Smith liked me from the way he stared.
As I was mowing, he commented and said, "you missed a spot over there."
As I turned around to go get the spot that I had missed, the young man lifted the towel as Mr. Smith rolled over on to his back. The towel was held up, shielding my view from Mr. Smith's manhood, but the young man winked at me and smiled. I was so jealous.
The young man massaged Mr. Smith's legs, the towel barely covering the most wonderful treasure, his hands slid up underneath the towel, his hands must have been touching Mr. Smith's dick. There is no way they couldn't have. My heart raced, my cock was at full attention, my eyes glued to Mr. Smith and the young man. I was almost sure that Mr. Smith was hard, or least rocking a semi as the towel was tented. I wasn't paying attention to where I was mowing when I heard a thud as a ran over a bird house.
To be continued
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