Come Rain Cum Rains

My husband Kent has been working a ton. He does economic and market research for international firms; it makes my head spin. Now that I’ve retired I’ve attempted to get him to do the same; but no dice. He loves what he does, loves having something to do, doesn’t like tennis or golf enough to play either regularly, and he likes to travel only occasionally. To be fair, I’m with him on golf and travel.

But Kent’s usual work cadence has basically doubled recently. To give him the credit he’s due my husband has spent as much ‘intimate’ time with me as always; working from his home office on the north side of our house makes it convenient for me to present my butt or dick and have him respond. What’s suffered is the ‘chores’ we usually have done together. During this work boon for him I’ve taken-over things he normally does, like grocery shopping, dry cleaners drop-off and pick-up, even going to the country club’s members meetings which to be completely candid I don’t enjoy at all; a bunch of whiny entitled wealthy argumentative so-called adults can be very tedious. But I digress.

Because I went through three open-heart surgeries two years ago Kent is dead-set on me not doing anything he considers strenuous; even though my cardiologist disagrees. And if it’s sexual Kent has no objection whatsoever. lol Things were piling-up on the to-do list; I asked a neighbor tennis buddy if he had a recommendation for a handyman. As it happened he did.

Mike is his name; a nickname for Miguel. Mike is tall for a man of Mexican ethnicity; 6’4’ by his own admission though he seems taller than that compared to Kent’s height which is a couple of inches beyond my six-foot stature. Mike is also built “ram tough” as the ad slogan goes; muscled from neck to toes and the stamina of the Energizer bunny. The stamina goes for working and other things as Kent and I discovered. But again I’m getting ahead of myself.

Mike worked us into his schedule which was deservedly busy as his work proved. He did a few interior projects requiring the ladder; something on my husband’s no-no list. He did a garage project and an attic project. Both of these left his shorts sweated-through in the Florida heat; he’d shed the t-shirt that otherwise strained to cover his massive shoulders and pecs so it was waiting for him. Both times we offered him a rinse-off and a cool-down in our pool bathroom shower and pool respectively.

The first time, after the garage project, he’d declined for not having a change of clothes; we solved that by lending him a couple of pair of boardies to wear in the pool and then to go home. He showered off the sweat which I regretted not doing for him with my tongue; I consoled myself with enjoying the sight of him wet, muscles pumping as he slowly swam laps in the pool while I lay on a lounge. Surprisingly he was an engaging conversationalist with every-guy interests, a big heart, and even bigger sense of social responsibility. When he was going inside to the pool bathroom to shower after the swim he stopped outside the door, stripped-off the borrowed boardies like I wasn’t there, and wrung them out. My appreciation for his beautiful darkly-furry perfect bubble butt far exceeded my appreciation for the consideration Mike showed for dripping before he entered the house.

The second time he brought a change of shorts to work-out shorts and told us he was going on to the gym afterward. So we offered him boardies for the pool; but we also said we’d be fine with him skinny-dipping and he already knew that our pool was completely private. He said, “I don’t mind if you don’t; we’ve all got the same plumbing,” and stripped-off his sweaty shorts right there on the lanai. Beautiful and very respectably average-appearing uncut dick hanging over larger low-hangers in a tangle of black pubes; beautiful indeed. This time his very captivating body in motion as he swam and I relaxed on the lounge afforded me frequent glimpses of his flopping junk as he changed-up his strokes. Kent joined me for a bit and was there when Mike got out of the pool and without an ounce of discomfort stood for nearly five minutes while we finished a conversation before he went inside to shower, dress, and head to the gym.

Mike also did a yard furniture refinishing project which a painter kept delaying; and he did it faster and cheaper with the result better than we expected. Why I couldn’t have sanded, stained, and sealed ten pieces of lanai furniture you’ll have to ask Kent to know; but I was banned and Mike the handyman did a great job. And the promise of him cooling-off after working all day in ninety-degree heat was something to look forward to; I wasn’t disappointed.

After Mike arrived for that job and before he started, he politely checked if he could stow his gym bag in the pool bathroom. “Of course,” was my answer as he had expected. I added, “And of course the customary after-work cool-down in the pool.” His thanks was genuine; he hadn’t presumed.

It was a long hot day of hard work. I’d offered him our sanders but he mostly hand-sanded the many pieces of teak furniture. He went through ten or twelve sweat rags alone; he used fewer rags cleaning and staining the furniture than he did for his sweat. We kept him plenty hydrated as we always did; Mike was always appreciative. That day was particularly brutal temperature and exertion-wise; but Mike’s resolve was unwavering.

When he finally finished the last piece he did a double-guns flex and growled like a cave-man! Then he suddenly got self-conscious when I, our dog, and Kent were all looking at him through the windows. Kent and I gave him thumbs-up to show our appreciation for the hard work and perseverance. I headed for the lanai as Mike asked through the windows if we minded if he grabbed a couple more Gatorades before he showered the sweat off. I opened the French door just as my cheeky husband said in a voice deliberately loud enough for Mike to hear, “If you really cared about the environment you’d lick that man’s sweat off him!”

“Jesus, Kent!” I shot back embarrassed. Before I could apologize to Mike I noticed he was chuckling and grinning. “Sorry,” I offered anyway.

“No worries, Mr. S. I appreciate the compliment even if I’m totally straight. I just had a baby son actually.” His chest puffed when he said that full of pride. Then he caught himself. “I mean my fiancée did.” He laughed at himself and swigged-down half a large bottle of Gatorade.

I thought about going down the flirty conversation route then decided against; Mike’s a very respectful and professional guy and had already made it clear he’s straight.

And nothing about that little snark on Kent’s part changed what came next. Mike unashamedly got out of his sweat-sopping shorts and stood with his junk out there for me to ogle the entirety of his physical perfection as we talked some before he went in to rinse that appetizing sweat off himself before swimming. When he came out of the pool bathroom he followed-on our conversation from before the shower for several minutes; I again worked to concentrate on the conversation while faced with his physical beauty. The swim, post swim clothed-man (a square cut swimsuit for me) to naked man conversation completing the one we’d been having during his swim. Then him showering. The only thing that was different was he took a long piss before the shower; even with the pool bathroom door shut it sounded like the proverbial racehorse.

I pounced on Kent the second Mike was gone. My hubby didn’t mind the source of my arousal. If either of us had an ounce of fluid left in our bodies when we finally decided to come up for air, I’d be surprised. Our dog Sasha was none too happy about his dinner being over an hour late; so we took care of him before we hit what was left of the Gatorade and thought about dinner for ourselves. I confess my own thoughts were divided between our debate about dinner and Mike having likely gotten all sweaty again; and I mentally speculated on which of his muscles were pumped.

“He’s open to it; but he has to have it be your move,” Kent said as if reading my mind.

I never argued with Kent’s intuition. It’s like a super-power for him.

“I really never … “

“But now you are,” Kent interrupted me and again pulled the thoughts out of my brain. Or maybe that was the result of his taunting filthy-talk while we’d been sucking and fucking. And when i call it filthy; if Mike only knew! “What if I asked you to?”

“I’d say why don’t you?” I answered honestly.

Kent got up from the stool he was sitting on at our pub table and came around to stand between my splayed knees. He pressed against me and kissed me until I swooned and was hard as iron against his own hard-on. “Pretty please,” he said very softly when his tongue had left the depths of my oral cavity. His deep voice was even deeper and my cock throbbed.

We didn’t end-up having dinner that night; at least not food. I was whistling when I woke the next morning though.

We had a brutal yard project that our landscapers had kept putting-off; I’d asked Mike about that nearly a week after his last time at our house. I described it as a kind of dirty work (literal dirt) and he’d texted back that he’d enjoy it. The house we bought two years ago is thirty years old; and I was pretty certain that most of the landscaping was original. We had tested the beds outside several of the front windows to remove the overgrown and half-dead plants there; it was impossible so we had just cut all the plants down to their cores and awaited the landscapers’ attention to the job they’d committed.

Mike arrived for the dirty job on a mercifully cool (for us) day with a breeze. It would help with the extreme exertion he was going to have to do. We talked about the job, he tested the dirt around the clumpy stumps, and he confirmed what we knew about the half-foot deep layer of thick tangled roots in addition to the huge deep root balls of the outgoing lilies. We left him to the pick ax and took off for our daily bike ride.

About an hour in the skies opened up. This is a daily occurrence where we live but usually there are more easily identifiable signs that it’s coming. We enjoyed the cool-down and expected it to pass as it usually does within a few minutes. We’d only just passed close to our house and pressed on for another lap of the country club. Instead it turned to a squall by the time we were a quarter of the way around. The wind had picked-up and was making it so cool it was uncomfortable to say nothing of the visibility in the deluge; so we turned for home.

When we got within sight of our house we noticed Mike’s big butch four-by-four pickup was still there. I was initially surprised then not; unlikely he’d just leave. But no way he could be working in this! Wrong!

As we neared the house and could see the front there was Mike’s drenched statuesque torso pumping like an oil derek swinging that axe. “Come on Mike!” I called. “You’ll catch your death out here in this!” We headed into the garage not knowing if he was following; we only knew he’d acknowledged that he heard us.

We were shaking off gallons of water in the garage; if only we were as good at it as our pooch Sasha! Mike finally rounded the corner of the garage and stood outside the open garage door with the rain pelting him … and running down his sinew and chest hair … “Get the fuck inside,” I urged him and wondered what he was waiting for.

“I’m all muddy. I don’t want to mess-up that beautiful floor.” He was teasing; he’d done the re-coat for us and it was beautiful.

“Shuck your boots and get inside,” I solutioned while Kent got our dripping bikes on their hooks. “We’ll hose you down after the wind dies down.”

Mike did as he was told and laughed. “I bet you would too!” Kent kicked me right in my padded butt (bike shorts) in case I’d missed that.

I make it a point to disappoint my husband as rarely as I can. “Well I was talking about the garden hose out there; but both could be arranged IF you weren’t ‘totally straight.’” I gave him air quotes on the reminder of his declaration.

“I may be totally straight but I know an opp when I hear one.” He said it with a grin but then he got serious. “I haven’t got laid for months and I haven’t gotten a blowjob or hand job since a month before Miguelito came. My fiancée ended on bedrest.”

Kent came around and put his strong hand on Mike’s melon-sized shoulder. “That’s rough for any guy I’m sure. But with the stress of a baby coming and the mom having physical troubles well you must have been jacking-off till you were raw!”

Mike had his back to the driveway and was standing in his typical wide spread. The flimsy workout shorts he’d been wearing were soaked with rain and plastered to him; and it was obvious his dick was awakening to the topic of conversation. “A guy can jack himself a hundred times and it’s not as good as once with someone else taking care of it.”

Kent massaged his hand on Mike’s rock ball of a shoulder and shot me a glance. I looked around but nobody was out in the still-pelting rain and wind.

I took the step up to where I was nearly chest to chest with Mike and took his dick in hand. Not through the fabric; I deftly pulled the leg up, discovered there was no liner and he was commando, and I took hold of his hairy balls and plumping cock.

Mike moaned and slumped into me enough that Kent took his other hand and planted it in the big handyman’s abs to steady him.

“Mmmmmm. I really am straight,” Mike restated.

“Hot!” Kent growled. “But maybe not so totally straight as to mind a couple of willing men giving you some much needed relief?”

“I need it!” Mike moaned. He was now hard as a lead pipe in my hand. I let go of the grip I’d adjusted to rub his boner and took hold of his balls and rubbed them. “Oh dude! My Brianna never plays with my huevos. She thinks they’re ugly.”

I gripped him more firmly and pulled a little. He moaned louder. “Ohhhhhhhh yeah!”

Kent had moved the one hand from Mike’s shoulder to his pec and was rubbing his now hard nipple nub. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Mike moaned in a deeper gravelly voice.

I kept working Mike’s balls which were tightening. His precum was slick on my wrist and flowing in great quantity.

Kent pinched Mike’s nipple and his head which had been lolling snapped up. A sucking of his breath accompanied a gasp and a higher pitched moan. Kent pinched again and twisted and suddenly Mike’s body bucked and he shouted, “Oh my god!”

Mike’s balls were fighting me and pulled as tight against him as they could in my grip. And he was cumming in his shorts just that fast.

“You weren’t kidding cowboy,” Kent said and kissed Mike’s collar bone while he bucked and moaned.

I had gotten my hand around Mike’s spurting dick and had a handful of his ball juice. An overflowing handful.

Mike’s head lolled into Kent’s but then it was as if he realized Kent was kissing his neck. By then Kent was kissing his Adam’s Apple and moving around toward Mike’s ear.

“Dude I … “ Mike started to protest but Kent shut him that down.

“Shut up and enjoy it. It’s just sex.” And then he forced his lips onto Mike’s and I felt MikeMs softening dick immediately go back to hardening.

Kent broke for just a second. “Give me some of his jizz.”

I smeared Kent’s tongue and lips and Mike’s lips with Mike’s load over his attempt to turn away and Kent went back in and full-on sucked Mike’s face.

Mike may have not wanted the kiss or the taste of his own cum but his cock was rock-hard again just like that.

Kent broke away and left Mike moaning and catching his breath. “Kiss Al. Now!”

Mike’s eyes widened and for a minute he looked at me with trepidation. And then he moved his head forward. I went for it and detected the taste of his cum and my husband’s spit and felt Mike respond immediately; both his tongue tangling with mine and his hard-on at full rage throbbing in my grip. I changed back to a grip on his balls and he moaned loud I to my mouth.

“Straight but not too straight to take this inside and take care of every bit of you.” Kent said it as a statement not a question.

“Ummmhmmmmm,” the big straight buffed-out handyman moaned as I worked his still-full balls. 

The rain continued to pound; there was a virtual drape beyond the open garage doors. I didn't bother to try and hide my grip on Mike's balls as I led him into the house. 

[to be concluded in part 2]