Plow Me

Bobby stands shirtless, his broad back to me. The ridges and dimples of his muscles make it look like a relief map of some beautiful, uncharted planet. I'm sitting under a fragrant linden tree in a field of newly mown grass.

"Bobby," I say, my voice a puff of smoke that floats toward him in the brilliant blue air.

He turns his head slowly and the heat in his dark eyes shimmers between us. The sun glints off his damp, tawny skin, the muscles slithering beneath it. He stretches his sinewy arms, and the sunlight catches the ripple across his magnificent shoulders. A bead of sweat runs down the trough of his spine into the crack of his round ass.

He undoes his belt and slowly pulls the tight jeans down over his flawless butt. He bends over to yank off the jeans and gives me a great shot of his big ass and a peek at his fat, tight balls. My mouth is dry.

He turns and I see his meaty, veiny cock is hard and standing at attention. He runs his hands over his sweaty, chiseled chest and makes his cock jump. His dark eyes drill into mine: I  know you want this. Yes, I try to say.

 I feel his heat, smell the sweat, and Palmolive Gold. My mouth is open as his cock approaches. He puts a finger to my mouth, and I suck on it.

 He presses his cock and balls against my face, and I close my eyes. His cock is thick and silky as he runs it along my face, slowly across my forehead, down along the temples. I feel life coursing through it. His full, clenched balls rest on my chin and I feel his pulse there too. The head of his cock whispers across my eyebrows leaving a trail of precum across my eyes and my eyelashes are electrified by its touch. His meat rests on the bridge of my nose and my mouth opens. My tongue makes one salty pass under his balls and then another. I try to take both of his balls into my mouth, but they are so big and full that I can only suck on one at a time.

 His cock pulses against my nose, then slides slowly down to my lips. He glides his cock across my upper lip; back and forth then takes my hair and pulls my head back.

 I open my mouth; my tongue is out. He poises his cock on the rip of my tongue, and I taste the sweet cream oozing out of it. My hands reach around and cup his marble haunches. I pull him towards me, my lips working the thick head of his dong, drawing it deeper into my mouth. My hands dig into the crack of his ass, touching his tight hole, pulling him deeper down my throat.

I look up at his magnificent body, his intense eyes glowing at me. My ears start to buzz. I feel the rumble of jism in his balls. My eyes roll back up in my head. The buzz fills my ears.

 I feel the hot juice stream through his dong as he shouts and his cock tenses and erupts. I gulp down dollop after dollop of his sweet syrup as my cock goes off somewhere down there, dissolving me into a pool of boy juice. I gulp down the endless nectar he pumps into me as the buzz gets louder and louder. Still smacking my lips, I sit straight up in bed and slam my hand down on my buzzing alarm clock. It’s a cold, drizzly January morning and I’m lying in a pool of my own jizz. Another wet dream about Bobby Fortunato.

 I jump out of bed and get ready for work. I’ll see him in an hour, and we’ll spend another day together, side by side, working for the Silver Lake Department of Public Works. I keep having steamy dreams about Bobby and wonder if he dreams about me. I have to do something about this or I’m going to explode. I’ve fucked around with a lot of guys but Bobby, my Bobby, is the one I love.

 We’ve worked together for a year, assigned to 602, a lime green four-ton dump truck that we keep in perfect condition as if we owned it. We love its complicated control panel with its glowing gauges and switches and the way it sails mightily through Silver Lake. We do street paving in the spring, grounds maintenance in the summer, leaf removal in the fall, and road salting and snow plowing in the winter.

 Bobby is a bodybuilder. He’s twenty-five, six foot three and two hundred pounds. He keeps his thick black hair short; it looks like velvet on his big head. He has large brown eyes like a dazed puppy and a wispy mustache that looks like a smudge over his juicy upper lip. When Bobby thinks hard, his tongue pops out and rests on his upper lip. Bobby looks fierce from a distance but up close he’s a sweetheart, not stupid just uncomplicated by ideas. It’s easy to make him laugh, a child’s laugh with a delightful gurgle in it. Though I’m younger than him he feels like my kid brother—that I want to fuck. I’m six feet tall and 175 pounds and I know if I pissed him off Bobby could crush me. I want him to crush me, in a good way.

 “I wish I could talk to girls the way I talk to you,” he says in his soft voice. Bobby doesn’t have much of a social life. He lives with his mother, goes to the gym, hangs out with his bodybuilder buddies, and loves to watch those sappy Hallmark movies on television. He tells me the plots and I think, is he for real? Yes, he is.

 When we were out on a job picking up a discarded refrigerator, a pretty young blonde woman in shorts and a tee shirt, and no bra came out of the house with some lemonade. She handed us the glasses and looking at Bobby said, “Why don’t you come inside and relax?”

 Bobby giggled, blushed, and looked at the ground. She shook her head and went back inside.

“See. I’m a pinhead. You need to tell me your secret,” he says when we’re back in the truck. “Maybe you and me can go out sometime and you can show me." he says.

 “Sure,” but I’m thinking about the two of us having dinner, holding hands at the movies, then tossing around in my bed. Instead,  I make do with eight hours a day of Bobby, five days a week, talking,  working, and goofing around. I watch his beautiful body strain against his lovingly washed clothes. Except for wanting to jump him, it’s very soothing being with Bobby. We work quietly and purposefully, with his boom box tuned to an oldies rock station. When it's warm, Bobby's shirt comes off and all eyes in the vicinity stop and admire his two hundred pounds of chiseled meat. I watch his pecs flex, shift, and jiggle when he works the jackhammer and the sinuous veins that zigzag his body. When we take a break, I love sitting next to him, feeling his heat, the hair on my arms electrified by the touch of his damp skin.

 The seasons drift into each other and I dream about Bobby every night. I won’t make a move because I don’t want to spook him --and possibly lose my job and him. I like what we have.

 It’s a dreary, rainy January morning. Our foreman, Chubby, steps out of his office and into the dayroom at eight a.m., dressed for the Arctic. There's a snow advisory, he tells us, the first this year, and we better get on our chains and plows. When we step outside, the rain, on cue,  turns to snow. We pull 602 into one of the bays and jack up the front end and each slide under a wheel and put chains on the tires. Then we do the same with the rear end. We hook up a cold steel plow to the front of the truck, attach a salt spreader to the back, and then pull up to the salt pile where a front-end loader dumps a load of salt into the body.

 We hit the streets of Silver Lake. The first few flakes of snow have turned into a blizzard and the wipers, switched to high, almost can’t keep up. Around us, cars spin out of control as we sail along on jingle bell chains. Kids hurry home from school, homeowners are out with their shovels. Now it’s late afternoon and the town is quiet under its white blanket except for our chains and the nerve-jangling clank of the plow hitting the street. It’s hard to make any progress until the snow stops so we head to the Short Stop Diner by the parkway. Bobby wolfs down pancakes, sausage, two fried eggs, toast, and a big glass of milk. I love watching him eat. We stop at a liquor store, just before it closes, and I buy a pint of blackberry brandy to help keep us warm. We pass the other trucks out plowing and though we’re cold and tired we feel like heroes. We keep driving around town, taking turns on the plow, and swigging the brandy. We don’t talk much, as usual, but I feel very close to him as if I can read his sweet simple mind. All I get is some sappy Hallmark movie. If he read my mind, he’d see me going down on him in the truck, sucking the juice out of his beautiful sausage.

 Chubby’s voice crackles on the radio telling us to expect to be out all night so we can take a two-hour break. Since we’re near Bobby’s house, we go there. Mrs. Fortunato kisses Bobby.

 “Come in boys. You must be frozen. Take off those shoes and sit by the fire,” she says as she strokes Bobby’s hair. “Are you done for the day? 

“No, Ma. We got to work all night.”

“Why?”

 “It gotta get done, Ma.”

 “Let me heat up some eggplant while you boys get warm.”

 Mrs. Fortunato puts big plates of eggplant parmigiana on the table and pours two glasses of red wine. “To fortify your blood.”

 Bobby’s feet in thick socks, meet mine under the table. We play footsie for a minute while we eat.

“You boys should get some rest. Why don’t you go upstairs? Bobby’s bed is big enough for two.”

 I follow Bobby’s big, round ass up the stairs. His room is like a big man cave. There is a huge color poster of the gorgeous bodybuilder, Bob Paris, who is gay. Bobby touches the poster.

 “I wish I had that definition,” he says. “You got definition, but you need to bulk up.”

He points to the bed, a big old-fashioned four-poster that must have been his grandmother’s. There’s a big teddy bear propped against a pillow.

 “Make yourself comfortable,” he says, patting the bed.

 I sit down and watch him take off his blue flannel shirt and pull off his tight jeans. He drapes them on a chair. He is wearing a one-piece white union suit, the old-fashioned kind with buttons down the front and a flap in the back. His cock and balls look full and snug in his onesie and when he goes to the bathroom to take a leak, the back flap opens, and I see his pink ass cheeks. I hear him brush his teeth and gargle.

 When he returns he says, “Come on, take off your gear and stretch out. Plenty of room for both of us.”

 I peel down to my tee shirt and long johns. I’ve got half a boner I half hope he doesn’t notice. I don’t want to spook him. I stretch out on the bed beside him, put my arms behind my head, close my eyes, and take deep breaths to slow my racing heart. Can he feel it? I feel his warmth and smell the toothpaste on his breath. 

I sense him shifting, feel his breath against my neck. He slips his big head into the crook of my arm and curls up beside me. I freeze.

“This is okay, right?”

I nod and stroke the velvety top of his head.

“Very okay.”

 “I’m cold," he says, shivering, though his body feels warm. I put my arm around him and run my hands up and down his solid back. I feel a nudge against my knee, a hot little nudge. I run my hand further down his back and slip it into the flap of the union suit. My hand massages the small of his back, then slides down around his warm, round ass. The hot nudge grows into a poke as his cock stirs through the cotton. We stay like this for a while, enjoying the slow, stirring sensations. I have a toasty, uncomplicated boner. Bobby nestles in, one big arm draped across my chest.

 "Wow, your heart is going' a hundred miles a minute," he whispers. "You okay?"

"Yep."

 I slide my hand down to his ass, between his hot, moist butt cheeks, and feel the crackling hair there. He draws his legs up further and his ass opens a little, I touch his clenched butthole and it winks at my touch. Bobby's thick tool grows against my leg, and he sighs cozily. I reach further and feel his big, clenched nuts, then run my finger around his hole.

Bobby runs his hands across my chest and presses his lips against my neck. I thrill at the bristle of his mustache. His hand slips under my T-shirt and I feel its rough touch across my nipples, down my stomach. My index finger eases into Bobby’s hole, and he pushes out his ass, letting me know that he likes it. My arm is going dead under the weight of his big head and shoulders. I extricate it and see the surprise and hurt in his big puppy eyes.

"Wait a minute," I say. "Stand up. I want you to  get out of that thing."

He slides off the bed and stands before me as I sit on its edge. His meat pulses, hard against the cotton, and there's a damp spot where it's drooled. His eyes are smoggy with desire, and I smell the testosterone oozing out of him, and the Palmolive Gold. His pink tongue rests on his upper lip.

I stand and undo the buttons on his union suit and pull the suit slowly down over his mighty shoulders. I kiss his brawny neck, rest my lips on the throbbing vein I find. He throws his head back and exhales, his rough fingers tangled in my hair. I lay feathery kisses along his neck up to his ears where I gently chew on his earlobe. My tongue darts into his ear and I exhale a senseless, smoky sound that makes him groan. His mitts work down my back, grab my ass, his fingers digging into it, pulling me toward him. Our bodies grind together, hard-ons grazing through the cotton. I pull the suit down over the bulge of his biceps as my lips follow the trail of veins down his shoulders, first one, then the other, to his massive arms. He flexes them and I watch the complicated machinery of muscle ripple beneath his smooth skin.

He pulls my long johns down below my ass and his callused hands work themselves into my butt cheeks and pry them apart. The sandpaper of his hands thrills against the skin between my legs as one big finger explores my fuckhole. Bobby pulls up my shirt and I feel his rough but tender touch along my spine.

I slip his union suit down further, to where it catches against the big head of his cock. I undo the remaining three buttons and Bobby's thick fierce dong and loaded balls spring out at me, grazing my face as I pull the suit down over his Herculean thighs.

Bobby steps out of the union suit and pulls me up. He strips off my shirt and yanks down my long johns, my socks flying off with them. He pushes me backward onto the bed. He takes an ankle in each big hand and spreads my long legs. The meaty head of his cock glistens with boy juice as he moves forward, and I feel its heft and heat between my legs. I shudder at its hot wet touch against my exposed fuckhole.

Bobby rubs the length and girth of his tool between my spread legs, his strong hands clamped to my ankles. I don't want him to fuck me. I want him to fuck me so bad. I want whatever he wants.

My hands reach for him, feeling the expanse of his chiseled chest, his big hard nipples. I want to taste them and the sweat that trickles down the cleft between his pecs to his corrugated abs. Bobby's eyes are focused on my butthole where I feel the wonderful prod of his thick, stone cock as he slowly tries to work it into me. His face descends toward me, and he presses his lips on mine.

His mouth is tense and dry. Of course, he doesn’t know how to kiss. I run my tongue over Bobby’s lips, the lips I’ve spent a year dreaming about. They are soft, full, and eager. My tongue slips into his mouth and meets his. My hands slide down his brawny back and I feel his cock nudge, slowly, into me, the squeak of skin on skin as his tool slowly penetrates my hole. Now that I know what it feels like, I want all of him inside me. I feel the heat of his hefty dong inside my ass as he slowly penetrates layers of resistance. His hard stomach grinds against my stiff, drooling cock, my big balls crushed and churned against him. His hands scrape down my body and work the mounds of my ass, pulling me toward his hot meat.

I gasp at the dizzying pop as his whole cock lunges deep inside me. I fasten myself around it and explore pleasing new sensations. Bobby takes a breath and buries his face in my neck. I reach for his balls and feel their silken heft as they slap against my ass. Bobby's cock backs up and then pushes back into me. I put my hands on his stone buttocks and feel the pistons as he pumps me .

He straightens up and starts to ride me like a bronco, his face clouded, his tongue resting on his upper lip. Then he looks at me and smiles. I smile too, then close my eyes when Bobby holds my straining cock against his stomach as he plows into me. His big hand is clamped around my cock, pumping.  I hoist my ass up against his meat to meet each plunge. I don't know where or who I am.  My eyelids flutter my body churns, and quivers from head to toe. I arch my back as Bobby drives deep inside me and pumps my cock. I'm churning and shuddering around his thick buried tool and feel my manhandled cock spew hot licks of juice that splash against my chin and neck. Bobby's hands rub the jism into my chest, his fat fingers trail the salty goop across my lips, and I like the taste. My fuckhole is clamped around Bobby and now it hurts as he plows into me. I put my hand on his chest and exhale. He stops for a moment, then Bobby slowly, tortuously extricates himself from my pounded hole.  His cock is hard and throbbing. He sits on the bed next to me, puts his arm around me. "You okay?"

My punished butt is still sputtering but my exhausted cock stirs and grows at the feel of his arm on my shoulder and the catch in his voice.

"Yeah", I say, sliding to the floor and settling between his massive thighs. His fat, velvet poker is standing at attention, his clenched nuts ready to explode. I wrap my hand around his dong and start to lick his tight nuts. I feel the tremble in them as his cock twitches and bounces on its own. I clamp my hand around his meat, and I see a pearl of cream emerge at the tip.

He groans as I lick it off and taste its sweetness. I lick the head of his cock and taste myself there, hickory smoked, and tangy. He grabs my hair and pulls my head down the long, veiny shaft of his cock. One hand runs across the expense of his chest. He takes it and sucks my fingers in his mouth. My other hand kneads his rumbling balls as I wolf down his meat, taking it to the back of my throat.

 Bobby gasps, “I’m gonna shoot!” and tries to pull my head away. He stands and I wrap my mouth around his tool, sucking it hungrily. Its bulbous head banging around where my tonsils used to be. I clamp my hand on his round ass and feel the shudder there, the rumble in his balls that rises through his cock as the first hot spurts shoot out of him. I taste his man nectar as his dong explodes in my mouth and feel the juice slide down the back of my throat. I gulp it down hungrily and want to stay like this forever while I feel his cock goes soft in my mouth and I drink in the last few drops of him.  I realize that I’ve just squirted again. Dazed and contented, I stand, and Bobby's lips meet mine, his tongue rooting around for this new, manly taste.

I look deep into Bobby’s eyes, more puppyish than ever. He looks confused.

"Now what?" he says.

"I don't know. But it’s  going to be interesting."

We settle back into bed, holding on to each other.

I hear the truck’s radio crackling from the driveway. It's Chubby's voice.

 "Truck 602, come in. Come in 602.”

He’s going to have to wait. We’ve got better things to do.