The Handyman

 “The interview went well?”

“Yes, it did.”

“You didn’t think it would, did you? You thought Cole would queer it.”

Tab and Ben Semple were sitting out on the deck of Tab’s waterside cottage overlooking the north end of Plymouth Bay on the estate of the man Tab had found handyman work with and who wanted Tab near enough to visit when his family wouldn’t miss him from the big house up on the bluff.

“The manager at the cranberry packaging business doesn’t think much of the Shernhaven branch of the Union Bank of Norfolk, so nothing derogatory Cole might say about me would hold much weight with him. And they haven’t had an accountant for a while. I think he’s pretty desperate to find someone.”

“So, you have a decision to make?” said Tab.

“I guess so. Cole has been a real bear recently. He was ragging on me so much, I cut him off of the fucking. I don’t think he liked that at all. And I got a summons from Shern too, which I haven’t responded to. I got Demonte off to a prep school in Richmond. If he makes the muster there in basketball, they’ll find him a scholarship somewhere.”

“Asserting your independence more?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said about being trapped and enslaved by Shernhaven. Maybe I should try it somewhere else. And the economy’s really getting to me. It’s tough on a bank loan officer. I don’t know how easy it would be for Cole to replace me, though.”

“In either of your services for him. Which would be fun to watch in itself, wouldn’t it?” Tab could hardly control his smile. This was what he had been after.

“I’d have to find someplace to stay--someplace temporary until I decided this was what I wanted.”

“There’s plenty of room here, in this cottage. In my bed.”

“But the guy up by the big house when we were driving down here--the guy you said you work for and lets you use this cottage. Would he be cool with me being here? You say you’re fucking him as part of the bargain. I wouldn’t want him to think I was cutting him out. And I couldn’t stay here and keep my hands off you.”

“I don’t think you’d have to. I told him about you--all about you, inches and all--and didn’t you see how he was eyeing you when we passed him? As long as you were willing to fuck him too, I’m sure he’d be delighted with the arrangement.”

“He didn’t look so bad. But how did you find a job with him? What business is he in?”

“I hit the bonanza. I fucked him first. The job came later. Although I’d done some research and he was what I was looking for. They’ve got a bar like Hernando’s down in Plymouth. Keith Dodson was going down there because he has family here and doesn’t want them--or anyone else in Duxbury--to know what he likes. I found out that he owned a heating, air conditioning, and lighting business covering the whole region and that there was a lot that a handyman like me could do on that company’s calls.”

“So, that’s a bonanza?”

That stopped Tab momentarily. He was afraid that maybe he’d said too much. But then he smiled and said, “This cottage is the bonanza. The job’s good, but I couldn’t get something this nice with what I’m paid. Having this cottage as part of the deal is the bonanza.”

Dodson indeed was doubly happy at having the big, black beauty Ben Semple staying at the cottage too. So Ben moved in and started working as an accountant for the Duxbury Cranberry Company.

The first weekend Ben was at the cottage, Dodson came down from the big house and Tab and Ben worked him over together. They got him between them, and he found out what DP meant. They thought they’d overdone it from how he was screaming bloody murder--but after they were done he begged them for it again. He probably would have been happy to give them the deed to the cottage after that. He certainly didn’t make any waves about having another tenant. And when it later came time for Tab to ask for the use of his motorboat, he didn’t even ask Tab what he wanted it for.

On Friday nights Tab and Ben would go into the dock area of Plymouth to Woody’s, the bar where Tab had met Dodson. Sometimes Dodson was there and sometimes he wasn’t. More often he wasn’t, though, because he now had two studs on his own estate to service him whenever he could get away from his family in the big house.

Tab started to encourage Ben to be more independent in his sexual encounters, and he forever was encouraging him to check out--and try out--the talent that came into the bar.

On Saturdays and Sundays when Tab didn’t have to go out on a call, though, he liked to go down to the Duxbury fishing docks by himself and socialize with the fisherman, most of whom were out on the ocean every weekday from dawn to dusk.

He let it be known that he’d like to go out and see what fishing was like someday, and more than one of the men with trawlers said they’d be happy to take him out. With Tab’s strikingly good looks and honestly work-built body, readiness to give a competent hand, and sandy-haired Irishman’s quick smile and friendly quip, he was accepted by the men working the docks quickly and soon was accepted by them even though he didn’t go to sea with them.

Among the fisherman Tab got to know and who he’d sit at the Duxbury wharf with at the end of their day on the ocean and his own breaks away from heating, air conditioning, and lighting breakdown calls was one that Tab slowly gravitated to and focused on. Like many of the fishermen, he had the look of northern Europe about him. He was maybe in his mid-to-late thirties with a hard-work-maintained body of a younger man--stocky but solid build, Teutonic-blond hair, a ruddy complexion on a well-chiseled face, and watery-blue eyes that sparkled and a smile that radiated when he was happy. Unlike most of the many men of Massachusetts who were of German descent Tab had met, this fisherman rarely smiled, though. He was often morose, he walked with a pronounced limp, and he was reclusive, living alone on his fishing boat and mixing with others only in the hour of sharing tales of the day and the catch at the wharf-side bar in Duxbury.

It took the longest time for Tab to cultivate his trust and interest. The interest came first, and seemed to be accentuated when Fischer’s friends honed in on Tab and Wal shyly withdrew to the background. Tab knew that Wal Fischer was approachable and that he wanted--probably, considering how reclusive he was, really needed--what Tab could give him. Wal couldn’t hide his hunger when their eyes met. But he was skittish and had that feel of an empty, defeated man about him.

One day when they were the last to leave the after-work gathering, Tab probed farther into Wal’s life than he had when there were more fisherman present.

“You seem to be married forever to your boat, Wal. I never see you socializing around other than with this group here after you return and have consigned your catch. You are a fine figure of a man. I’m surprised you don’t party more in the evenings.”

“My boat has been good to me,” Wal answered after carefully choosing his words. “She’s all I need. Certainly all I deserve. And, as far as nightlife, there’s really nothing I care for in Duxbury. Talking with the other fishermen after dusk--and you too--is good mixing and about my limit.”

“Nothing in Duxbury to please you in the evenings? Have you gone further afield. Maybe your interests are particular. Have you ever been to a place called Woody’s in Plymouth, for instance? Or Hernando’s up in Shernhaven?”

Wal Fischer froze, as Tab knew he would. It was quite evident that Wal knew what kind of bars Woody’s and Hernando’s were. Tab felt he had to press the issue with Wal, though. Shock seemed the only way he could do it. He knew what Wal wanted. Tab had to drop the knowledge that Wal could have what he wanted--if he’d be brave enough to give up his self-denial and guilt.

Wal stood, ready to flee. His eyes were blazing and his fists were clinched. Tab didn’t think they were clinched to fend him off physically, though, just as a defense mechanism against what Tab was bringing into the light--and perhaps against his own bubbling desires.

“You wouldn’t have to go to Plymouth or Shernhaven, Wal,” Tab said in a quiet voice. “I know what you want. I can tell from your reactions to me. I am drawn to you, Wal. I can give you what you want. I could be something you care for in Duxbury to please you in the evenings.”

What was coming up from deep inside Wal sounded like a death rattle. He gave one bald, pathetically yearning look at Tab and turned away.

“I can be very discrete, Wal. No one else need ever know. Your life and position in Duxbury would not be endangered.”

Wal started to walk away.

“Think about it,” Tab said to his back. Tab wasn’t surprised or distressed at Wal’s reaction. It was a hurdle they had to cross, something that needed to be done. He knew that Wal would think of little else until next they met.

Tab wasn’t even surprised, although some of the other fishermen were, that Wal didn’t show up at the evening gathering the next evening--or the one after that.

The day following that was one of Tab’s days off. Before dawn he was down on the dock, standing by Wal’s fishing boat and wearing yellow slickers, when Tab came up from his cabin. Upon seeing him there, Wal did a double take and turned to reenter his cabin.

“Wal. You have to go out today. You know you do. And you have to take me with you. You know you do. You know what you want. I have it for you.”

“No you don’t--I’m sure,” Wal said.

“Yes, I do. You like to be dominated. Punished. I can give you what you want.”

Wal didn’t answer--or look directly at Tab after the first flash of shocked surprise at what Tab had said. But he didn’t reenter the cabin. He went about preparing the little trawler for casting off. And when Tab jumped over the gunwale and landed on his feet in the waist of the boat, Wal didn’t make any move to throw him off the boat either. He just worked around Tab, who moved to the center of the boat, trying to stay out of Wal’s way.

Wal still didn’t look at Tab as he maneuvered the boat down Plymouth Bay, around Gumet Point and then northeast, both up the coast toward Boston and out to sea. His hands were trembling on the wheel, though, so, when they were past the buoys at the entrance to the bay, Tab came up behind him and wrapped his arms around the fisherman. He could feel Wal shaking inside his embrace. Tab’s hand went to the snaps on Wal’s slicker and then the buttons of the flannel shirt under that. He palmed both of Wal’s beefy pectorals with his hands.

Tab had been rubbing Wal’s puffed up nipples with his thumbs when he felt him shudder and mutter his first low moan. They were standing about a half mile off the land now, pointed north, and Tab could see the Lower Head lighthouse at Shernhaven harbor off in the distance to the northwest. He tweaked Wal’s nipples with his thumb and forefinger and Wal gave a little cry, arched his back, and turned his head. Tab took Wal’s mouth with his, and Wal’s lips opened to him.

So, I was right. That’s how it is, Tab thought. He twisted Wal’s nipples hard and nipped at his lower lip with his teeth. Wal moaned deeply.

“I can give you what you want. Below. Now,” Wal whispered in a hoarse voice. “I’ll put the boat to anchor.”

Tab had been naked under the yellow slicker jacket and pants and had those off and had turned around before Wal arrived below. Wal let out another moan and sank in front of Tab and took his engorging cock in his mouth.

When Tab was fully erect, he pulled Wal up on his feet and helped him take his gear off.

“Where? The berth? That chair? Across the table?”

“No, please.” Wal answered in a hushed voice. “I don’t know if you can . . . if you will . . . but, just a minute.”

He stumbled over to a bank of drawers built into the forward wall, opened several, and rummaged around in them. When he turned, he had several lengths of nylon cording and a leather belt in his hands. And he had a pleading, fearful expression on his face.

Ah, Tab thought, The Avery Shern fetishes. Why am I not surprised? But Tab didn’t say any of these things.

“Yes, all right, if it’s what you want. Where?”

Wal gestured to a metal ring attached to the back center of the berth nook and to two hand holds in the dropped ceiling edge at the front of the berth. These proved perfect for tying Wal’s wrists together above his head on the back wall of the berth as he laid on the bed on his back, his legs sticking out over the side of the mattress. The handholds at the front edge of the berth ceiling allowed Tab to raise, spread, and entrap the fisherman’s ankles.

The only part Tab didn’t like was the beating with the leather belt, but Wal got hard with just a half-hearted flicking at his belly and chest and thighs. It probably had been so long since Wal had had it that mild applications would be all that was needed. Maybe later it would have to be more intense. Tab saw scars that told him that at least one earlier beating had been with the buckle end, but he wasn’t about to do that. When he was reaching the edge of what he was willing to do, he stopped and lowered his mouth over Wal’s cock and brought him to ejaculation. He resumed the slaps of the belt after that but was relieved when Wal quickly started begging for the fuck.

“Oh shit, oh, yesss. It’s been so long,” Wal blubbered as Tab worked his cock inside of him. And then Wal was groaning and grunting incoherently as Tab worked the wonders inside him that won him the slobbering worship of any man letting him beyond his sphincter muscle.

After the first time, there was no more beating; Wal was well into the mood. The second time Wal fucked himself on Tab’s cock. Tab laid down where Wal had been and Wall was bound by his ankles at rings at the back, lower corners of the berth mattress, with his wrists bound to handholds in the ceiling of the berth nook. Tab held the fisherman steady with his hands on the man’s waist as he lowered his channel on Tab’s cock and Wal raised and lowered his hips on Tab’s staff with the leverage of his feet off the back wall of the berth nook.

Well toward the noon hour, Tab went fishing with his cock again, with the only fish swimming around in Wal’s boat being the repeated crop of little sperm wrigglies spewing into the heads of condoms deep inside Wal’s channel. Tab could tell that it had been a good long time since Wal had gotten what he wanted.

Wanting him well in thrall to him, Tab fucked Wal four times that afternoon. Both men were in shape and well up to the challenge. Now Wal couldn’t get enough of it.

Afterward, after they’d cleaned themselves and while Tab was soothing cream into the slight welts on Wal’s thighs and belly and chest, Tab couldn’t resist asking about Wal’s arousal needs.

“Are the beatings really necessary?”

“To get me hard and wanting the cock. After that, as you can see, not. I can tell you didn’t really want to do that. The thought of it--and then the reality of it--always turned me on the most. But I think I may not need much of that anymore. But the binding . . . some form of binding. I don’t know. It’s always seemed . . .”

“We could try just that. But if it’s not more than I did, the belt could . . . just looking at your scarring, though, it looks like you’ve done much worse.”

“Most of that wasn’t done for love or arousal,” Wal answered in a low voice.

“And the leg.”

“As long as we’re careful, that won’t bother me any, either.”

“So, there can be another time?”

“You want there to be another time?”

“Certainly. But I’ve ruined your catch for the day. There’s not much time left today, and you haven’t even begun to haul in fish.”

“I’ve already hauled in my biggest catch of the day--and yes, I’ll take you out for the day any time you want.”

Seven days later, Tab’s next weekday off, he was in the cabin of Wal’s boat. He was kneeling on the berth, facing the back wall. Wal was spread-eagled on his body, the two attached at Wal’s rump and Tab’s pelvis. Wal was also facing the back wall of the berth, his arms spread and bound to the ceiling of the berth and his legs spread and bound at the ankles at either end of the front edge of the berth. They had both just come--for the second time, and Tab was running his hands over Wal’s belly and chest and kissing the hollow of his neck. Wal’s cheeks were still red and there was a trickle of blood at the corner of one nostril from the slaps Tab had had to give him after he was bound to make him hard.

“That was the best,” Wal murmured.

“Each time it gets better. Next time maybe no need for any beating,” Tab whispered back.

“No. Nothing but the binding and your wondrous cock. Next time.”

* * * *

“You want him, don’t you?”

“I’m here with you,” Ben answered.

“We discussed this a couple of days ago. We’re good together, but we’re not married, and we won’t be. I fuck other guys. You know I do. I don’t expect you to be any different.”

Tab indeed was starting to cut Ben loose. It was obvious that Ben liked it in Duxbury. His job was working out fine. Keith Dodson even seemed to be showing a preference for black cock, and Tab was fine with that. So was Ben. He hadn’t mentioned Cole or Shernhaven in more than a week.

They were sitting at a table at Woody’s. The light was dim where they were but brighter over the bar where they were looking. Tab could tell by the way that Ben was eyeing the young guy at the bar that he was quite interested in him. That suited Tab just fine. The guy was young and preppy. He was what Tab would call cute--not very tall, and thinnish--maybe willowy. A pretty face and hair frosted and moussed up in waves on his head. A little effeminate in gestures and eyelash wiggling for Tab, but Tab could clearly see that Ben was hard for him. The hair was an auburn color, with blond highlights. He looked a little self-conscious, like this was his first time in here. And maybe like he was just fantasizing and checking the lifestyle out, maybe even a virgin. Nice touch, Tab thought. He rather thought the lad was laying that on a little thick, but he’d do fine--as long as his name wasn’t Cole or Shern.

“No, that’s OK,” Ben was saying. “He looks sort of lost. Maybe if we see him in here again . . .”

“Looks virginal, untested to you, doesn’t he?” Tab said.

“Yeah, sort of like that.”

“I’m sort of surprised you like the weak, limp-wristed kind.”

“What can I say. It’s a fantasy to fuck the lights out of a little piece like that--to hear them squeal at the beginning and then climb and ride the pole when they find how good it feels.”

“And you’re already fantasizing about sinking your cock in him and listening to him babble--and having him do a pole dance on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess so.” Ben laughed, but then he raised an arm that met thin air as Tab rose and brushed past him. “Hey, I didn’t say . . .”

“You look like you could use some company,” Tab said as he saddled up to the bar next to the young guy. The young guy turned and gave Tab an appreciative smile. Tab continued. “What’s your name.”

“Clem. Clem Stevens. And yours?”

“You can just call me Tab. And, look over to that table over there where my friend’s sitting. The big black guy. If you like him, you can call him daddy. He’s got a cock that will take your breath away--make you sing like a soprano. You’ll be stuffed like you’ve never been stuffed before.”

By the intake of Clem’s breath when he looked at Ben Semple, Tab could tell that the young guy liked the looks of Ben just fine.

“He’s a Semple. One of the Semples from Shernhaven.”

“Oh, god,” the twink croaked.

“So you know what to expect.”

“Oh, god,” young Clem repeated.

“Scared?”

“Yes, of course.” But Clem was licking his lips.

“Ever been on a day fishing trip?” Tab asked.

* * * *

The four of them went out on Wal Fischer’s fishing trawler the next Thursday.

Clem was all nervous talk and flighty hand gestures and attempts at jokes that fell flat but that Tab laughed at anyway as he guided the young guy this way and that on the deck to keep him out of Wal’s way as they cast off. Tab made sure he moved the young piece with a hand on his ass and that Ben could see that Clem didn’t shirk from this in the least.

Ben was looking nervous too and wasn’t saying much. Tab almost laughed had how Ben’s shorts were tented and at the “eat you up” looks he was giving Clem, although he was letting Tab do the maneuvering. Tab could tell Ben was on the edge of not being able to control himself. Clem studiously wasn’t looking at Ben, which arousing Ben all the more.

Wal was just going about his business until they got out well beyond the land. Then he dropped the anchor and went below into his cabin. Tab followed him after looking around and seeing that Ben and Clem were sitting back on the padded bench at the fantail and had started up a conversation. Ben had a hand on Clem’s knee and Clem was gripping one of Ben’s biceps and babbling like a nervous idiot, so Tab decided they were on their way to Nirvana.

Wal was stripping down and pulling nylon cording out of a drawer when Tab entered the cabin and shut the door behind him.

“No need for that this time,” Tab said. “I come with toys.”

Wal looked curiously at what Tab pulled out his pockets. Two intricately fashioned black nylon restraints, a rubber dildo, and a rubber ball mouth gag.

“New position with these,” Tab said, holding up the restraints, “and this is because you are going to be so goddamned double fucked that you’d want to be heard back in Duxbury.”

The restraints tied Wal’s wrists to his ankles, and Wal made quite a bit of noise even with the gag when, crouching between his thighs as Wal laid on his back on the berth, Tab slowly worked the dildo in above his already-entrenched cock.

When they were finished and were stretched out together on the berth and cuddling and running their hands over each other’s bodies as Wal had discovered he enjoyed, Tab took his game up a notch.

“You ever done a threesome?”

“No. With the black guy out there? With Ben?”

Tab had been amused. He’d wondered if Wal would say anything about knowing Ben Semple when he saw him coming on board. They’d both lived in Shernhaven and were from well-known families there. But Wal hadn’t acted like he knew Ben, and Ben, who had been forewarned, didn’t say anything either.

“Not necessarily with him, no. Just in general. I doubt whether Ben is much interested in anything we’re doing now anyway. Can’t you hear the high-pitched screams out there? And, no, I don’t really mean Ben later either. Just in general.”

“Are you talking DP here? That sort of threesome? Is that was the dildo was about?”

“Not with that, no. With another guy. The three making love all together. The feel of two inside you.”

“I don’t know.”

“But the idea of it sort of turns you on, doesn’t it? You can’t hide that fattening cock from me. You’re aroused by the idea, aren’t you? You like to be pressed to the limit. To be punished. You haven’t really lost that desire, have you? What would be more taxing then to have two inside you? You handled me and the dildo fine.”

A slight pause and then a softly spoken, “Maybe.”

“I can tell you’re thinking more than maybe. You want me again now. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

When Tab came back on deck, he was pleased to see that Ben and Clem were much closer to Nirvana. Both were naked. Ben was sitting on the fantail bench, facing the bow. Clem was in his lap, also facing the bow. Ben’s hands were gripping Clem’s waist and he was slamming Clem’s channel up and down on his cock--and from the rag-doll look of Clem, Tab could tell that Ben had been doing that for some time and intended on continuing to do it for as long as possible.

They were way past the screaming-from-the-size-of-him phase, and Clem had the wild-eyed look of never having had it like this before but loving every stroke of it. From where he stood, Tab marveled that such a small opening could swallow such a thick cock. But it did.

As Tab watched, Ben seemed to have broken the thrall of his uncontrolled lust, and he stopped the stroking and embraced the young twink in his arms. Tab heard him murmur an apology and a question on whether it was too much for Clem. But the young man moved his lips to Ben’s ear and whispered something Tab couldn’t hear. A big smile spread across Ben’s face and his hands went to Clem’s waist. Immediately he resumed slamming Clem’s passage up and down on his cock. Clem began flailing his arms and legs about and squealing like a piglet--a very happy little piglet.

Ah, already at the climbing the pole for joy stage, Tab thought. He was well pleased.