WARNING: If it is illegal for you to be reading these stories or you find them disgusting or immoral, please refrain from reading further. Must be 18+ to read! Any characters, places, or people depicted in this story is entirely in the fantasy and imagination of the writer and are in no way meant to portray anyone in real life. Any people, places, or actions depicted in this story that reflect real life events or situations is entirely by accident or coincidence.
Also, please donate to Nifty to keep the magic happening. If you're looking for fast burning crotch killer, this is not the story for you. In real life things move slower than "Hi, want to fuck?"
Chapter One
`Gentry Collins' is what the nametag says on the mailbox for lot 14 (that's the trailer before mine -- I'm in 15). I saw him moving in late last night in that old-ass green Silverado that is the spittin' image of mine, except for mine is blue. Didn't look to be he had much to move in, a few boxes and bags and a guitar. Couldn't really tell a lot about him in the dark. I figured I'd meet him soon enough. Hell, if he farts, I'll probably hear it; there's not but about nine feet between his trailer and mine. He was gone when I got up this morning (about 5:45), so I guess he's a shift worker. I manage a mini-storage place, so I don't go in till nine. The manufactured home place works a 6:00 -- 3:00 shift and it's only about 20 minutes from here, so that's what I'm guessing.
I rinsed out my coffee mug and sat it in the sink, threw on a jacket and headed out to the U-Store-It. Seems like all I've done since Michael's been gone is shuffle back and forth between the trailer and this place. The storage place is on the main 4-lane highway that goes through town; of course, everything is on that 4-lane, pretty much. I got out of the truck and unlocked the walk-thru gate and pulled the golf cart out of the unit next to the office before I unlocked the door and went in. I opened the blinds and looked across the valley at the ridge. Looks like the cows are all in the front pasture this morning. I went ahead and made a pot of coffee, I figure some of my folks'll be in to pay their rental fees today, it being the first of the month. The coffeemaker is just finishing up sputtering when Mr. Mabry pulls up. I guess I'll get to hear who all's died and gone in the hospital first thing this morning. He comes in and says "Morning" and walks on by to the bathroom. I get my cash box out of the safe and into the drawer. The walls in here are very thin and the sound of the old man trying to get a flow going come right over to where I'm sitting; I try my best to ignore it. Finally, I hear the toilet flush and the sink running. Of course, he stops by the coffee pot on his way over.
"Yer outta creamer, Win" he drawls.
I get up and look in the storeroom and find a fresh creamer and bring it out to him.
"Thank you, young feller" he tells me, and I mutter "Welcome". I reckon anybody is a `young feller' to him as he is approximately 5 years older than God by my estimation. I go back behind the desk and pull up his account.
"They put Percy Simmons' service on Saturday afternoon" he says. One, I have no idea who Percy Simmons is, but I assume he IS no more. I just answer to be polite.
"Well, that'll give you somethin' to do on Saturday then" I say.
"I never did like that Percy" he says, "I sure as hell won't be attending that service."
"Oh, okay" I say, and quickly add "you're looking at $118, Mr. Mabry."
"Put it on that card that's on file" he says. We have this conversation every month; the software the company is using now doesn't keep card numbers. He bitches to himself and fumbles around to find his card and hands it over so I can run his payment.
"That Tony Jacobs is in the hospital again. His wife says his hemorrhoids was actin' up and he had to have `em tended to" I just push my donut over to the side on that one. I listen to the rest of his list and sip my coffee until another customer comes in and saves me from the endless litany. I watch as he climbs into the nearly brand-new Ford truck that I'm sure his grandson will be really enjoying before long.
My second customer is Mrs. Edna, she seems to have assigned herself to be my foster mother. She takes the seat Mr. Mabry just vacated and hands me a paper plate covered with aluminum foil. She brings me breakfast a couple of times a week. I thank her and open it up. Bacon, eggs and biscuits, and she is a hell of a cook too. She can see I'm tucking into the food, so she goes and gets her a cup of coffee, extra sugar and creamer, and sits back down. I pass on the news I've reluctantly learned from Mr. Mabry, and she giggles to herself. Once I finish the plate, she pays her fee and goes onto her next errand.
"Have a blessed day" she says as she leaves.
"You too" I say, "and thank you very much for the breakfast."
She nods and waves as she gets in the car and drives off toward the Walmart. Not much going on for a little while so I check locks and sweep up around the grounds. It usually picks up after lunch. I'm just glad it's Friday and I'll be off two days after today.
The day goes on like a repeat from every other month. I go out and get a hamburger from the diner in old downtown, they're still the best around. After lunch, business picks up and gets hectic for a little while, then around 3 o'clock it kinda slows down again. I sit back in the chair, feeling sleepy from lunch still and just look out the window towards the ridgeline.
Around 3:30 I see the green Silverado from last night come pulling up. Small world -- `course, this is the only storage place around here...
"I'm lookin' for a storage locker" he says. I look him over. He seems to be more or less my age, I'm 40, I'll know when I put his license number in the system. He's not fat but a little chubby like me, maybe an inch or so taller, dirty blonde hair, goatee, brown eyes.
"Win Thomas" I say offering my hand.
"Gentry Collins" he says.
"Yeah, I know, you're my new neighbor" I tell him.
"I thought that fine piece of machinery parked out there looked familiar" he says.
"They could be brothers" I kid. "So, what all you needin' to store?" I ask to calculate what size storage he'll need.
"It'll all fit in a ten-foot U-Haul" he says, "break-up situation. Rather leave peaceably than one of us end up down at funeral parlor."
I show him a 10 x 10 and he says it should do fine. I ask him for his license so I can start the move in papers. He's two years younger than me, two inches taller (6 foot even), and five pounds heavier (240lbs.) -- at least according to his driver's license. After he signs everything, I walk back out with him to show him how to use the gate and to put the lock he just bought on the unit. I keep getting a vibe from him. A friend of mine told me way back that my gaydar is impeccable, I aimed to find out.
"Look here, Gentry, I can call you Gentry, can't I?" I ask. He nods. "I got a Crock Pot of beef stew working at the house. All I hafta do is throw some cornbread in the oven when I get home. You want to come join me?"
"I wouldn't want to put you out" he says.
"No trouble at all" I say.
"I'll bring a something to drink" he says.
"Sounds like a plan" I tell him. He leaves and I start rechecking everything and getting the store ready to close. Seems like it takes forever for 5:30 to roll around. The temperature has dropped again, I pull on my jacket. It's not quite enough this evening. I check my phone and the weather app says it's going to drop below freezing tonight. We've been having the weirdest weather lately; the highs the last few days were in the 60s and after tonight the temps are supposed to be staying down below 40°F for the next week. I get in the truck and kick the heater on and drive the few miles home.
** ** ** ** **
Shady Acres has been my home for the last four years Michael passed on. It's not as bad as I always imagined; you hear all the stories about living in the trailer park, but this one is a mostly quiet place. My place is small, around 1000 sq. ft. and set up with two master bedrooms, one on each end. Mr. Crandall said he used to rent it to college students before the built the dorms on campus, not much demand now. I just use the spare bedroom to store my extra stuff from the house. I'm here, so I go in and start making the cornbread and slide the pan into the oven. I reckon Gentry musta seen me drive up, he is tapping on my back door. I chuckle to myself thinking maybe I'll really get him to tap on my backdoor.
"Come on in, it's open" I holler. He comes in and sits a fifth of Jack Daniels on the table and comes to see what I'm up to. I hand him the ladle and tell him to check on the stew. When he gets next to me, I can feel the cold coming off of him and faintly smell his musk coming through his coat. Damn, I hope my gaydar is right, but either way I'm probably gonna be rubbing myself raw tonight.
"You got some kind of coke?" he asks.
"Just Mountain Dew" I tell him. It's my favorite.
"Don't think that'd be good with Jack" he says, "be right back." He goes out to the machine in front of the office and comes back with two cans of RC Cola. Mr. Crandall likes his RC.
The bell goes off to let me know the cornbread is ready. I pull it out of the oven and flip it onto a plate so I can cut it. Gentry lost the coat at some point and is ladling up a bowl of stew next to me. I try to be covert though I feel my eyes pulled to the big ole tuft of hair spilling out over his collar. He's wearing a green plaid flannel shirt with an old school white tee shirt underneath. As he moves around, I swear the little wafts of musk keep threatening to make my pants get too tight. I dish up my bowl and bring the cornbread to the table. He asks about glasses, and I direct him to the right cabinet. He gets us ice and mixes his Jack and coke. I get up and get a juice glass to put the liquor in; I'm a chaser not a mixer. From the mmms I'm hearing I guess I did okay on the beef stew. He goes back for seconds; seems to feel at home here. I'm sure the Jack Daniels helps with that.
"I don't see how you can drink that liquor like that" he says.
"I won't lie, it's kind of hard to drink Jack Daniels neat. If we stay friends, I'll have to introduce you to some really good whiskey" I told him with a wink.
He mixed himself another drink and we moved to the living room to let our food digest a little. He had something on his mind, I could tell. But, then, so did I. Neither of us seemed in a hurry to spoil the evening, so we just filled the space with small talk.
"I really got to piss" he said. I pointed him to my bathroom, and he took off. The way my trailer is set up, from the kitchen table you can see straight into the bathroom, so when he went in and stood at the toilet without closing the door it was not hard at all to see what he was workin' with. I acted like I was relaxing, had my eyes nearly closed but I was taking it all in, I assure you. He came back and mixed drink number three and took a sip.
"About that `friends' thing..." he said. Oh shit, I guess he saw me looking. I stayed quiet and waited for the shoe to drop.
"Look, my break-up...I broke up with my...well, my ex's name is Phillip" he said and seemed to be waiting for my reaction. I sat quietly thanking whoever was responsible for sending him this way.
"If you want me to leave, I'll understand. I'm queer, Win. I don't start a friendship out without that little piece of information" he said letting out a breath that seemed like he'd been holding it in all night.
"Well, if you just want to leave, you can, but I'm here to tell you I can suck a mean dick myself" I said completely deadpan.
"Wait, you..." he started to say.
"Yes, sir. Gay as a Paris chorus line" I chuckled. "I think we'll get along just fine."
It was his turn to sit quiet for a while. I could feel a different kind of tension in the room now, but it was too soon to jump into that yet. I did move a little closer on the couch to him.
"One thing bothers me though" he said thoughtfully, "What the hell kind of name is Win?"
I laughed.
"My mother was an artiste" I said, emphasizing the French pronunciation, "She was fond of an artist name of Winslow Homer. I just came along at the right time, and I ended up catching the name of Winslow Homer Thomas" I said rolling my eyes.
"I guess it fits since you're `homer-sexual'" he landed his dad joke with a snort, the alcohol was hitting really good about now. I laughed too, but that led me to question him.
"How about Gentry, never heard of anybody name that one before" I asked.
"Daddy liked the band Alabama, he wanted to name me Randy, but mama wanted to name me something different. They went through a bunch of names and decided on Gentry after Teddy Gentry, the bass player" he said.
"Parents are weird people" I said. We both laughed. About half the bottle of liquor was gone and it was getting late. Gentry said he hoped he could make it to bed without breaking his neck. I told him I'd help him. I walked him to his door and we kinda did one of those bro hug things and said goodnight and I made the awkward walk back to my place with a lump in the front of my pants. I kept busy by cleaning up the dishes and putting the food away in the fridge. I sat and watched a little TV and started falling asleep in the recliner, so I got up and went to bed.
Way earlier than I wanted to be, I was up and making coffee. Seemed like I could never sleep a full night anymore. The only light I had on was the one over the coffeemaker. I liked to sit in the mostly dark house and enjoy the quiet in the mornings. This morning it was kinda cool in the house. Shady Acres sat in a valley between two ridges and when it gets cold, it just kind of lingers here. I reached over and pulled the throw blanket from behind the little side table next to me and wrapped up in it. I was just about comfortable when I heard the knock on the door. I got up and it was Gentry.
"I couldn't sleep any longer, and I seen your light on" he said.
"Nuff said, come on in" I said, "Coffee's ready" I told him and pointed to the pot. He searched for a mug and poured some and came into the living room. I just noticed he was in sweatpants and was automatically hypnotized by the moving bump in them when he walked. I looked up and saw that he had seen me looking.
"Sorry" I said. He waved my apology away.
"We're all cock watchers here, don't worry about it" he said sitting on the end of the couch nearest my chair.
"There's another blanket over there, reach behind you" I told him, and he pulled out the throw and covered up. We sat in comfortable silence. I've always thought if somebody is comfortable enough with you to not talk that can be a good thing. I finished my first cup of coffee and went for seconds.
"What are you doing today?" I asked him.
"No plans, just enjoying being off work" he said.
"I'm thinking about going up to the flea market in a little bit" I said, "You wanna ride along?"
"Sure, sounds like it could be fun. Maybe find something for my palace" he said. He finished up his cup and said he'd go get cleaned up and ready to go.
"Don't get too clean" I flirted, "I am kinda partial to musk."
"Me too" he said. I could swear, as he was leaving, the hypnotic lump was a little bigger than before.
** ** ** ** **
With a high temp outside expected to be 38° today, I was hoping that Gentry had enough common sense to put on enough clothes. I was glad when I saw he seemed to have the same idea I had, and he came out in his hunting clothes. I'd thrown on my union suit and camo bibs with my flannel shirt underneath then picked up my Carhartt coat on top, finished off with my hunting boots. He had on similar except I separate pieces instead of the bib overall type setup I had on. Since I was the inviter, we got in my truck once I'd cleaned all the trash out of the passenger side and put in the can. I don't litter and you can tell it from the cab of my truck. I let it warm up a few minutes. It's a 2000 model Silverado with 212,000 miles. I figure it needs to be treated politely; I sure as hell can't afford a new one.
"5 liter?" Gentry asked.
"No, 5.7 - The old 350" I replied.
"Mine's the 5L, supposed to get better mileage" he said.
"This one gets about 18-19, no matter what" I said.
The needle came up from cold and I put her in reverse and headed toward the flea market over at Collinsville. The highway to the flea market ran in the middle of a valley between two long ridges. Looking out across the pastures that lined the road all you could see if the frost that had formed on the grass last night. The sun was just getting up in the sky and that was barely. It was gray and overcast today; looked like it could snow. We pulled into the little lot where I like to park, and I handed the old woman a dollar.
"Let's go up to the top and work our way down" I suggested. The flea market is laid out on a hill, so we went up to the top of the hill where there were mostly animals for sale like dogs, goats, rabbits, chickens. We weren't in the market for those, so we started back down. I found a guy selling windshield wipers and bought a new set. Gentry found a woman selling socks and he bought some of those. After a few more stops we had our hands full. When we got most of the way back down there is a spot on the left side where some folks sell musical instruments. Gentry went over and listened to the old fellers playing old gospel tunes. He spotted a guitar he wanted to look at, which the man handed him, and he began to play some song I hadn't heard before. The old guy seemed impressed. Gentry asked the price, but it was too steep; real Martin guitars are not come by on the cheap. We decided to get breakfast at the little café down by the entrance since we'd left home so early. We'd seen the whole market and it was still only about 10am. Cold weather has a way of killing curiosity.
"Whatchu want to do now?" I asked him.
"You wanna see my land?" he asked.
"You have land? Why are you in a trailer park?" I asked.
"It's just land, 50 acres of raw land. Inherited it when my dad died. I don't have the money to build a house yet, so I'm where I am" he said. "Do you not like me for a neighbor?"
"You're the navigator" I said, ignoring his comment.
He got out and unlocked the gate and we drove in. There was a gravel driveway leading up to a clearing.
"This is where daddy was going to put the house" he said.
"Nice place, I like the way he cleared out all the pines" I told him.
"Before he died, he had the septic installed" he showed me where the tank was; it was marked with four big rocks, one on each corner. "Daddy marked off the outside of the floorplan, you can still see the little stakes, but the tape is long gone."
While we were standing there in the hardwoods, a whitetail doe and two fawns scampered across the clearing. We sat in the truck for a little while and he told me about his plans to finish the house some day and move up here. He told me about his dad's passing after a major heart attack; that triggered me to tell him about Michael.
"Me and Michael used to go hunting all the time. Honestly, I never really cared anything about it, but it made him happy, so I wanted to be part of it" I said. "Anyway, it was back when Covid was first being heard about and that's what we thought he'd gotten to begin with, but he kept testing negative for it. Turned out he had double pneumonia. The doctor said it wasn't that bad and sent him home with antibiotics. He got a little bit better, then he went down again worse than the first time. He ended up having to be hospitalized. At that time he couldn't have visitors; no visitors due to the C-19 bullshit. He ended up on a ventilator after ten days. I tried to get them to let me see him, he hated being alone, but they wouldn't budge. Twelve days after going on the vent, they call and tell me he's he doesn't have long, I should come up and see him. How the hell do you go from healthy to dying in less than a month? I sat with him as he gasped his last breaths" I told him, tears were running down my face. I was full of both despair and burning anger. If they could let me in when he was dying, they could damn sure have let me see him when he wasn't. It wasn't fair. The hurt was all still way too fresh for me. Gentry put his arm around me and pulled me to him and held me close till I regained my composure.
"You okay to drive?" he asked, still concerned.
"Yeah, sorry, I'll be fine" I said, even though I didn't feel like it sometimes.
On the way back, he took my mind off Michael by telling me how he planned to buy materials a little at a time as he was able, to start building the house. He had the set of plans his daddy had bought and he was saving up for the initial concrete slab pour now. I don't know what came over me, but I asked if I could help him. I reckon I was tired of feeling sad all the time and it would be productive to help him achieve his goal. I hadn't done much productive in a long time. He asked if I could run a bulldozer. I laughed, but he said he was serious. He'd show me how.
Guess what? We didn't go home and get undressed and start fucking each other's brains out like in the porn movies, but we had gotten closer, and I began letting another person into my personal space; something that up to this point, I wasn't sure I could ever handle again.
** ** ** ** **
It was the first week in March when we started busting the ground getting it levelled and ready for the concrete trucks. By now, we were becoming something like best friends, I guess you could call it. Gentry's cousin Louis wasn't a professional, but he had worked on new house construction, so he was the boss. We worked on the site all weekend and by late Sunday Louis declared it was ready for the pour. Naturally, the next week it rained, but the following one he scheduled the pour. I took off and closed the store down that Monday to go help with the concrete. As soon as one truck would leave, another one would come and start to pour the next load. Me, Louis, Gentry and a couple of his other cousins spread and floated the concrete until it was all laid and looked perfect. That was as far as we got for a while. His next purchase was going to be a huge load of cinder blocks we'd need for the foundation. It was May by the time he's saved that up.
In the meantime, things began heating up a little between us. Having him around so much had made me feel like I was going in heat. I got to a point where all I could think about was the lump in those evil sweatpants that he wore all the time. There had been several times here lately he'd be calling me, and I was so into my daydreams I wouldn't hear him. One Friday, after I got off work, I went home and started making a pot of spaghetti. Gentry walked in. He never bothered to knock anymore.
"Why are we not together?" he asked, he almost sounded mad.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You, very obviously, are into me. I would really like to have somebody again, and I think we could make something happen" he said.
"I...wouldn't that mess up our friendship?" I asked.
"Damn! Why? Why can't we be friends with benefits?" he said.
"Well...I'm not built for casual" I warned him, "I play for keeps."
"Can we try? I mean...I may be ready for keeps" he said.
"Let's talk again when I may be becomes I know" I said.
But still, that day we became more than neighbors. After dinner, sitting on the couch, sipping some very expensive bourbon I'd put back for a special occasion, I leaned over and covered his lips with mine and engaged him in a first kiss. He took my head in his hands and held onto me as he inserted his tongue into my mouth. I hadn't felt this way since before Michael got sick, and I felt kind of guilty. Gentry seemed to read the look on my face.
"Do you think he'd want you to be lonely and sad the rest of your life?" he whispered.
I shook my head no, then started kissing him on the neck as I unbuttoned his shirt. He'd kept the deodorant to a minimum the way both of us liked and it had mostly faded away so that I was smelling just a remnant of it mixed with his natural scent; it was intoxicating. I tucked my hand under the tail of his tee shirt and ran my hand through the copious hair on his torso. I was getting pretty worked up. I hadn't had anything more than my hand in a long time. Gentry's hand went under my shirt and up my back, just running up and down caressing me. I felt like I was wound tighter than a cheap watch. He was sucking on my tongue, and I felt his hand go under the waistband of my pants and his long middle finger rode down the crack of my ass. I leaned over a little and I felt his finger graze across my hole. That was it, I came all over the inside of my underwear making a hellacious mess. It seemed to amuse him; he couldn't stop laughing.
"I guess that's enough for tonight" he said.
"Guess so" I said, clearly disappointed.
He thanked me for dinner and went back to his trailer. I went and changed out of my cummy pants and went to bed.
** ** ** ** **
The end of that month, the cinder blocks were delivered, and we were able to start working on that. We'd made out a few times since the premature ejaculation encounter, but still hadn't rushed into anything. He still hadn't told me if he knew what he wanted. That whole working weekend all I wore was a pair of basketball type shorts and a tee shirt and some raunchy old tennis shoes I wasn't worried about ruining. The weather was warm, so we just set up a tent and stayed on the property. We worked hard all day Saturday and I was exhausted. A quick bite to eat and I went in the tent and collapsed onto the air mattress. It was still early enough in the year that it was getting cool at night, so we'd brought a sheet which I pulled up over me. Gentry finished up the last few blocks he was working on, then I heard him washing off with a jug of water we'd brought just for that purpose. He unzipped the tent door and came in, leaving his shoes outside. I heard clothes dropping and could just make out his darker outline against the light from the sliver of moon outside. I guess he thought I was asleep, he very quietly slid onto the mattress beside me.
"Winslow!" he whispered loudly. I pretended not to hear him at first.
"Winslow don't ignore me" he said. I laid there wondering why he was calling my whole name.
"I'm not ignoring you, Gentry; I'm trying to sleep" I said.
"Nope. Not yet you're not" he said. He started pulling at my clothes and I instantly sprang a boner. He pulled my grungy shorts off of me and threw them out next to the bed.
"You might not want to start this right now, I'm kind of beyond needing a shower" I offered.
"Dude, we both agreed we like the musk" he said as he ran the tip of his tongue from the base of my neck down the middle of my chubby chest and followed the hair trail to the bush at the end.
"Besides, you said to let you know when I figured out what I want. I know what I want. I want you" he said, staring directly into my eyes; I got chills. When he pulled my foreskin back, I could smell it, so I know it was strong where he was. He was completely unphased by it, in fact, it might have spurred him on. He swallowed me and, in a few seconds, I was already ready to blow.
"Nope, not so fast this time, Winslow" my name sounded sexy when he said it with that growling whisper he was using. He completely left me alone until my throbbing slowed down. I tried to stroke myself, but he grabbed my hand and pulled it onto his hard cock instead. He was probably about a half inch longer than me, so about 6 ½ inches, mine made up for it in thickness. I moved around and took his cock in my mouth; first time I'd done this since Michael. He's cut but not tightly cut, still some skin left to play with. I stroke him with my hand while I suck on the head just like I used to do with... I stopped myself. I had to stop comparing everything to Michael. He was gone and I had to move on. I was determined. I licked his shaft all over and then sunk myself onto it until it was buried in my throat. Now it was Gentry who was pulsing like crazy. I backed off and let him rest a second. Gentry took the opportunity to turn himself around into a sixty-nine position and then we dove onto each other again. We were acting like a pair of horny teenagers instead of almost-middle-aged men. In less than ten minutes we were both swallowing large amounts of cum. My shirt was soaked with sweat, so I peeled it off and threw it aside with the shorts. Gentry spun back around and pulled me up tight against him. I didn't mind, it felt like the cool of the night was coming on anyway. He wrapped his beefy arm around me, and I fell asleep with the feeling of his spent cock resting in the crack of my ass. We finished up the foundation Sunday and headed back home.
After that night, nothing happened between us for a while because when we got home, Gentry found out the company had changed him to second shift until they could get more people hired; that kind of put a damper on our evening fun. That Friday, I waited up for him and told him about the idea I'd had.
"There's no point in us being in separate trailers" I told him.
"What would Mr. Crandall think?" he asked, putting on his best scandalous face.
"This trailer has two masters. We'll just tell him were splitting to save money" I said. Mr. Crandall had already mentioned what good friends we were. If he only knew.
Early Saturday, we moved his meager things into my house. I made room for his stuff, and we found Mr. Crandall and let him know what we were doing. He was happy to hear it because he had a family looking for a place and Gentry's trailer was a 3 bedroom. The by-product of this move was Gentry was able to save money up faster, so the house started going up faster as well. Saturday night I felt completely content for the first time...well, let's just say, in a long time. I went to sleep Saturday night with Gentry spooning me and woke up Sunday morning with Little Gentry knocking at my back door.
It was already up in the morning; the sun was bright through the window. I turned over and faced Gentry; he was still sleeping soundly. I took the opportunity to just study his face. He might not be model caliber, but he had a rugged handsomeness. I couldn't help myself; I reached up and felt the stubble on his face and ran my fingertip around his earlobe. He stirred a little and I stopped. His twisting and turning in the night had pulled the sheet off him and the sunlight from the window made the hair on his thighs look thicker than it was. I loved the way the layer of hair thinned out but stayed all the way up onto his ass and seamlessly blended into the thick hair just above his crack. I lay there admiring it all until the racket started.
Apparently, Mr. Crandall had wasted no time calling his potential tenants back and it sounded like all hell had broken loose next door. I glanced the clock; it was 8:44 already so I guess there was no point in complaining about it. I turned over and climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to start my day. I was getting in the shower when Gentry stumbled into the bathroom. We both ended up in the small shower together. We're neither of us small men, so it was an adventure trying to wash. There was a lot of things rubbing against other things, but neither of us really minded and we somehow managed to get showered and shampooed. I dried off and was standing at the sink brushing my teeth when he walked up behind me and kissed the back of my neck before going to get dressed. I had a certain feeling run through me that I didn't think I'd ever have again. I got dressed and we decided with all the commotion going on at his old trailer, we would get out of here for a while, so we went up to Jack's for a late breakfast.
The local building supply places were closed on Sunday, so Gentry headed toward Chattanooga, about an hour away, so we could check on some stuff at Lowes. We ended up spending most of the day there and had lunch at Sugar's. When we got back, it looked as if the new folks were more or less settled into lot 14 and everything had quieted down. One of the kids was sitting on the little porch, he looked to be about that cusp age, somewhere around 11-13 years old. He waved at us; we waved back. Gentry said "there's something about that kid..." but he let the thought slide and we went on inside.
Lambodara 1/1/22
Not exactly sure where I'm going with this one. Stay tuned.