Snakes and Ladders

He almost smacked me right in the face with it.

"Woah, sorry mate."

I ducked just in time and was rewarded with a grin and a wink from the fit guy carrying the ladder as he swung it away from me and carried on down the road. Over my shoulder I noted the wavy auburn hair, the broad back framed by a faded black tee shirt and the bulge of his bicep as he shouldered his burden around the corner and out of view.

The long walk home from a heavy session at the gym had me lost in a daydream of ripped bodies, clinging shorts, laboured breathing and the lurid thoughts of a different kind of exercise altogether. At the start of the year I'd made a pact with myself to avoid hooking up with anyone until I finally had the type of body I'd always wanted. Now I was wondering the hell why. I was pretty much there - you could park a bike in my round arse - but it'd been a hard slog and I'd had to increase the intensity of my workouts to try and make up for the lack of male attention, even though it was having the opposite effect. 

To paraphrase, I was horny as fuck.

Stopping off at the local garage I bought a Snickers bar then sat on the wall outside to unwrap my post-burn reward. The morning sun shone down and a light breeze helped to cool me down as I ignored the roar of the traffic and thought longingly about those three little words I still hoped to hear from a man, any man really, because right now I wasn't feeling too fussy; tall guys, short guys, hefty guys, jocks, daddies, smooth men, hairy men, men with ladders, Chris Redfield.....

It was then that I saw him.

He was a tall, lean, mean-looking bloke in a baseball cap, grey hoodie and dark blue trackies pulled up that bit too far at the ankles and showing off his white sport socks which bunched up out of his trainers. Most casual onlookers would've seen nothing more than a chav lad skulking down the road with his hands in his waistband, looking like he was trying to avoid the unwanted attentions of the local constabulary. In my present state of mind what I saw was a scruffy Adonis. A fantasy figure. A right bit of rough.

He crossed the busy road from the other side without checking for traffic and carried on towards me. As he got closer I could see that what I'd thought was a shaved head under the cap was actually greying hair flecked with white, but the face was lean and chiselled, handsome and unshaven - not so much a chav lad as a chav dad - well over six feet tall and totally fit as fuck to my eyes.

Usually in these unexpected moments of lust at first sight I would become awkward, not sure where to direct my gaze, but the workout was working its soothing effect on me and I'd already clocked the long piece of meat he had tucked down his inside left leg, swinging away shamelessly. So as he passed by I looked up and nodded with my mouth crammed full of nuts. I expected him to ignore me, or gob on me, or just tell me to fuck off, but he simply returned the gesture and carried on walking. 

As he sidled away down the pavement I gazed at his retreating body with only one thing on my mind; I wonder what his cock tastes like. Look, I willed him silently. Look. Go on yer fit fucker. Turn your head and...

He looked. 

He walked on a little further, then looked again, slowing his pace as he reached the pub on the corner, then turning once more, he looked for a third time.

Suddenly my heart rate increased and my cock stiffened in my shorts. He might be interested then. He might be. He might be interested in punching my face in. By now he'd disappeared around the corner. It was now or never. Three months without cock got the better of me and I stood up, swung my gym bag over my shoulders and followed as quickly as I dared.

As I was about to turn the corner after him I was startled for a moment by the sudden screech of wheels as a car left the garage at speed behind me and a police car appeared out of nowhere, siren blazing and giving chase. It was enough of a distraction to bring me to my senses and I stood catching my breath. I wasn't in the habit of pursuing strangers in the street, at least, not in broad daylight. He must be miles away by now anyway. Thinking an opportunity had passed, I turned the corner, if only to satisfy my curiosity.

He was sitting on the low wall of the first house after the pub, just five feet away from me, one hand casually dangling a cigarette between his long legs which were man-spreading impressively. He was hunched over slightly, looking the other way and when he turned his head and saw me he took a drag and blew smoke up into the air, seemingly disinterested. Then he looked straight at me and nodded again.

I had no idea how to play this, but my horny little mind rallied.

"Alright mate," I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "I couldn't ponce one off you could I?" I nodded at the cigarette. I don't smoke, but it was all I could come up with.  I go to the gym religiously three times a week, obsess over my sugar intake and barely drink. I am, come to think of it, a right boring bastard. I was also gagging for it. I gave him an awkward little laugh. 

He looked at me for a long while, then lifted the cigarette to his lips and took another drag, removed it from his mouth, turned it around and offered it to me. 

I know this, I thought. If we were in prison I'd be on my way to becoming someone's bitch right about now.

I reached out and took it, his rough hand momentarily grazing mine, took a drag and tried to look like I knew what I was doing. What am I doing? I thought. Roleplay? Okay, try and be the type of guy you think he'd go for. "Cheers mate, er, I don't have any cash on me. Is there, uh, is there any other way I can pay you for it, like?" I blustered, thinking this was where I get my head kicked in. He turned his head away as if looking to see if we were being watched. 

"Might have a job back at my place you can give me a hand with," he said, his voice deep and even, his face expressionless. He stood up, towering over me and placed his hand on my shoulder firmly, then reached over and took the smouldering dog end from my fingers without waiting for a response and flicked it into the road.

"Come on fella, it's just down 'ere."

He lead me to a small terrace house just at the end of the block and fished out his keys from the pocket of his trackies, unlocked the door and stepped inside. "Come on then," he gestured. "This shouldn't take long." He held the door and watched me step over the threshold, then took a quick look either way down the street before closing it and clicking the lock. His keys jangled as he dropped them into a glass bowl on a small shelf by the door.

I was standing in a narrow front room which doubled as a kitchen. In the wall facing the street was a window. The first thing he did was turn the blind so that we were in semi-darkness, but my eyes soon adjusted. The kitchen counter was piled with unwashed stacks of plates and mugs. A loaf of white bread sat open by a toaster, its dishevelled contents twisted into something resembling modern architecture. A large, worn, black leather couch was positioned just in front of it. Duct tape was crudely stretched over rips in the fabric and the screwed-up face of Eric Cartman stared up at me from a cushion in one corner. On the opposite wall was a larger window through which I could make out a tiny concreted back yard and rubbish spilling out of a grey wheelie bin. Next to that window, in a black frame hanging lopsided on the wall, was a picture of a sad-faced bulldog wearing a party hat.

This is it, I thought. This is the place I'm going to die.

He slumped down on the couch and let his long legs loll wide open. His hands went to the waistband of his trackies again and I could see the top of what I guessed must be very loose-fitting boxers. The bulge had gotten noticeably bigger. He looked me up and down, seemingly in no hurry, then lit up another cigarette and blew out a cloud of blue smoke, saying nothing. It hung in the air between us, warm and suffocating.

I could feel my back starting to prickle with sweat. Nervously, I lowered my gym bag to the bare floor and feeling exposed I searched for words. "Um, what was it you need me to do?" I croaked, my mouth dry but trying to sound as relaxed as possible; my eyes resting momentarily on the keys in the bowl. His tongue flicked across his thin lips then he took another drag. The air between us crackled.

"Do ya like sucking cock?" he said. 

He was so matter-of-fact about it it caught me off guard and I couldn't answer, but my heart was pounding again. His eyes were fixed on me.

He slowly tugged at his bulge a couple of times then reached inside and pulled his cock out. It was long, thick, uncut and semi-hard, curving downwards  and nodding between a pair of big floppy hairless balls. He began to work it, slyly glancing up at me sideways then back to his impressive meat, calmly stroking the flesh as his cock began to snake upwards, ripening in length and girth to reveal a large, purple head, sticky with precum. 

He unzipped the grey hoodie, lifted his white tee shirt and slapped the length of his meat against the treasure trail leading down his taut abdomen, then held his cock firmly at the base of the shaft, offering it to me. It was big and he knew it - a good ten inches, pale and veiny - and the fact that he knew it made me want it even more.

"Come on fella," he said quietly. "Give us a suck."

I sank to the floor as if hypnotized, and placed a shaky hand on each of his legs. It was one of my very favourite places to be; on my knees in front of another man, his thighs spread wide open like a welcoming haven, rigid cock waiting to be swallowed by a needy mouth. As I got closer, a perfectly round drop of precum oozed from the head of his cock, spilling over the top and beginning a slow, glistening trajectory down his shaft. The simple thrill of touching him made me dizzy and I finally caved, sinking my face into his balls, inhaling the musky aroma, then traced the long curve of his cock with my tongue until I reached his leaking bellend. I paused there with my mouth open and locked eyes with his, then wrapped my lips around it and sucked deeply on the salt of his precum and the taste of his flesh.

"Fuck yeah," he moaned, stubbing out the cigarette and fishing out a packet of gum from his pocket which he unwrapped slowly as he watched me, slid a piece into his mouth and began to chew. Then he placed both hands around my head to guide my mouth up and down the length of his throbbing cock like a hungry little whore. 

"Fuck yeah," he repeated. "I knew you were beggin' for it as soon as I saw ya."

He watched me intently, chewing with his mouth open, curiously impressed as I deep-throated his prick, taking it to the back of my throat then rubbing my lips over his big, beautiful cockhead, getting it wet, then sliding his meaty length all over my face again and again, before cramming my mouth with his nuts. He moaned again.

"Fuuuuck. Yer like sucking on my big sweaty nads don't ya." He reached forward and pushed his long fingers under my shorts, giving my squat-honed mounds a good squeeze, then pulled them all the way down so he could get a proper look. "Fuckin' juicy arse, mate," he said. "Yer do know I'm gonna need to stick my cock in that, don't ya."

Thank fuck, I thought. I couldn't wait to get some cock inside me again. Each time it felt like the first time and there was no other feeling like it; getting a guy so worked up he can't help unloading inside me, while saying those three little words.

He stood up and quickly pulled his trackies down to his ankles, cradled my head in his hands again and slowly fucked my mouth while letting out another moan. Then he turned and knelt on the couch, reached round and pushed my face into his pale hairless crack. I dove right in with my tongue, drenching his hole with my spit. The worn out leather of the couch squeaked loudly, the noise seeming to reverberate from one wall to the other.

"Fuck yeah, eat it," he breathed, almost to himself. "Yer like the taste of my arsehole don't ya, yer dirty little cunt." The verbal was getting me rock hard. It wasn't aggressive, just filthy and appreciative. 

He was breathing heavily now. He got up from the couch pulling me to my feet and quickly tore off my gym kit until I was naked apart from my socks and trainers, while he remained clothed. He leaned in and shoved his lips against mine roughly, finding my tongue with his and giving me a long wet minty kiss with his massive cock pressed against my stomach. Then he reached around, grabbing at the flesh of my arse again. His forehead was touching mine, hot and moist. 

"I want you on all fours," he growled.

Still face to face, he turned me so that now I had my back to the couch and he was standing in front of me. He pushed me down on to my hands and knees; his monster cock slapping me in the face. I let my back curve inwards and stuck out my arse the way men like you to do and he reached down and spread my creamy white cheeks, giving them a light slap and spitting right into my fuck hole. Then he stepped to one side, quite deliberately.

It was then that I saw him.

What I thought had been the squeak of leather had been something else. The fit guy who'd nearly floored me with the ladder was standing outside the backyard window, framed by a wide ring of soap bubbles. At some point he'd obviously been cleaning the glass, but right now he was standing with his black tee shirt raised up to his nipples, exposing a muscular torso, smattered with reddish brown fur. A rubber squeegee stuck out of a pocket in his tradies which were unbuttoned and wide open at the crotch revealing a similar rich auburn bush of pubes and he was slowly stroking his thick, meaty cock. He gave me that sexy grin and a wink again, and carried on tugging at his prick, patiently waiting for the action to continue.

A small inner voice far far away was whispering to me to get out of there, but another, louder, needier voice was telling me this was exactly what I wanted. I felt it surge through my body at the thought of being used like some nameless trick in a live sex show. I locked eyes with the window cleaner as the chav daddy knelt down behind me and positioned his throbbing cock at my arsehole. I felt the weight of his chest on my back and his mouth by my ear. "You like being watched don't ya, horny little cunt," he sniggered, gripping my hair and lifting up my head so that I couldn't turn away from the window. "Let's show 'im what a proppa little slut looks like," he said, and pushed his meat into me until he was balls deep. He began to fuck me doggy style; one hand on my shoulder and the other firmly in my hair. 

"Fuck yeah, you like that big raw cock inside you, don't ya," he said, big balls slapping away, as he began slamming into my gaping arse, breathing heavily and churning out expletives. "Prick-teasin' sluts need to be taught a lesson. Look at him, you filthy little fuck. Look how hard you're makin' him. Bet he wants to blow his hot load all over that pretty face. See his spunk dripping from ya lips, you little cocksucker. You'd like that, wouldn't ya. Fuck yeah, take it. Take my big fucking prick. Fuckin' make us cum. Make us both cum like the good little fuckboy we all know you are."

The hunk at the window wasn't grinning anymore. His impressive chest was heaving and he looked like he was about to blow. Our eyes were still locked together with such lustful intensity that it felt like he was the one behind me in the room, fucking me hard on all fours, enjoying my greedy hole.

Then the chav leaned into me again and at last I heard the three little words I'd been gagging for. 

"I'm gonna cum," he grunted.

His cock stiffened and his body started to jolt as he churned out the contents of his balls deep into my arse, as the guy at the window fucked me with his eyes and the glass was suddenly sprayed with spurt after spurt of thick, chunky, cum. He took a step backwards and sucked in a deep breath, then he was right up against the window again, smearing his juicy cum-covered cock around the glass. Within seconds the grin had returned. He breathed on the window and traced a simple, one-word message with a thick finger:

'HOT', it read.

I've been called worse, I thought. Then he nodded at me, smeared his cum-covered hand over the fur of his chest, slowly buttoned up, hoisted the ladder and left by the back gate.

The chav dad nuzzled into my ear, his cock now gliding smoothly inside my freshly battered hole. "Did you like that then, ya sexy fucker? Takin' my raw load in yer arse? Gettin' two blokes off at once? Yeah, you fuckin' loved it. We all did." He sucked hard on my earlobe then slowly pulled out, and moved around the front of me so I could suck the cum off his cock.

When I was dressed he saw me to the door. 

"Tell ya what, mate, why don't you come round again this weekend," he said. "Plenty more jobs for you to do round here." His hand gently circled the cheeks of my arse.

I realised I hadn't uttered much of a word since all the action had started, and even now all I could manage was a quick nod by way of confirmation. My head was spinning and I was keen to get home to replay it all in mind while I cranked one out.

I stepped down on to the pavement unsteadily as the door clicked behind me and went to rest on the wall at the bottom of the road by the pub in order to get my bearings. My shorts were soaked with cum at the back and clinging to me. It was a long walk home and I prayed my gym bag was enough to cover it. 

Then I became aware of a white van parked on the opposite side. The driver was obscured by the glare of the sun on the windscreen. The engine started up and it pulled over in front of me. There was a ladder fixed to the roof. 

"You look like you could do with a ride, mate."

The auburn-haired hunk who'd just spit-roasted me with his eyes leaned over from the driver's seat grinning and automatically opened the passenger door. I got in, letting his strong arms secure the seat belt around me.

"Don't want you getting away from me now fella," he said happily, as we pulled away into traffic.

"I've got one or two jobs you can help me out with."