"Damn, the water feels good, "I shout out as I break the liquid surface and find myself in the deep end of the pool.

"It sure does, "Bob says, "it was one of the best improvements I made when I had it installed, speaking of improvements. Do you have a rough estimate, in your head, as to what the cost of a new roof would be?"

Bob is sitting in a lounge chair, opposite me; legs spread, his cock, flaccid, his balls, hanging low, not in the least bothered by his displayed manhood, asking me a serious question. There is a puddle of sweat underneath him in the chair as his body is losing its moisture from the sun raining down on him.

I cannot look away; honesty depends on eye-to-eye contact but my eyes, diverted elsewhere.

I hesitate; I was not expecting this question so soon, I am at a lost, my professionalism down the preverbal drain. I am swimming naked in his pool, with him, and he has even seen me sprout a partial woody.

Who is at the advantage here?

I tell him what I had roughly worked out in my head in the minutes from my departure from the roof to my resurfacing in the pool.

He says nothing. I see the brain working in his head, mentally running in his checkbook. I need this job, I really do.

"So when can you start, "he says finally.

I am relieved. I am overjoyed. I got the job for my little piss-ant roofing company. I try to hold back my excitement on my face but I feel my cock stiffen, work tends to give me a hard-on or thoughts of work. Exertion. Power. Displays of my ability, it excites me to do my job and others things too.

"As soon as we get the supplies," I say, "we can start."

"Good," a calm Bob says.

Bob starts to fondle his balls.

His cock reacts to the play.

"It sure is hot, "he says, as cock begins to harden.

"I am really glad you decided to swim, Dave, "he says, "Your attitude made my decision easier."

"What do you mean, "I ask, as I am caught off guard by this comment.

"Other people have been to the house to give me estimates, "he says, "I behaved in the same manner I did with you but those men reacted differently, it affected my decision whether to hire them."

"Oh, "I say.

"Oh is right, "he says, "I am unashamed of who I am and I make no apologies for it. At my house, I have rules for the men that visit."

"Rules, "I ask.

"Yes, "he says, "they are unwritten but the men that know them, respect them and even come to embrace them, if they are open and willing enough to listen to them."

"Give me an example," I say.

"Well, you know one already, "he says.

"I do."

"Yes, being naked, I ask that every man be naked here. Many of us want to be but have no place to be, such is not the case at my house. If you are legally a man over eighteen, you will be naked at my house," Bob says sternly and authoritatively. He means it.

"I cannot say all my guys will go for that, "I say.

"I am not talking about casual visitors like your roofing crew," he says, "I respect the work and the workman but if after the job is done, they are free to be naked, if so inclined."

"Oh, okay, "I say.

I see only one man on my crew not interested but he is not interested in much anyway bedsides a cold beer and a TV set.

I say nothing to Bob about this.

"What made you decide to get naked, "he asks, "If you do not mind telling me."

"Honestly, "I say without hesitation, "I was fucking hot, my cock and balls were chaffing from the jeans, I wanted out of those damn clothes." I chuckle as I say this.

"Amen, "Bob says.

We both laugh. The tension is broken once again on what some might consider an awkward situation but what some others might consider a male bonding moment. As I suspect more men would prefer to be, naked than clothed any day of the week but society has dictated some social norms that some guys agree with, some reluctantly.

Bob continues to fondle his cock, unashamedly in front of me.

"You said rules, what are the other ones," I ask.

"Well, if your cock gets hard, "he says, "so what. If you want to stroke it and cum, I do not care."

Now this one surprises me but not really, as he has no problem demonstrating the point in front of me as we talk.

Yes, when a man is naked, his cock will harden, it happens. If you are a younger man, all it takes is a gust of wind.

Yes, I jacked off with a few buddies growing up, it was not a regular thing but it happened. We were getting to know our bodies, men and women both do this.

Many guys did but they deny they still jack their cocks, as they grow older; I find it hard to believe they would do so openly here at Bobs.

"I see by the look on your face, "he says, "You are shocked."

I guess my facial expression betrayed me. I did grimace at the mention of the jacking off if the need arose.

"No, I am not shocked, "I say, "but most guys deny they even jack off now-a-days."

"True, "he says, "and why is that?"

"I guess all those messages we are told about how wrong it is, "I say, "in church."

"Exactly, "he says, "and what is wrong with it?"

"Nothing," I say.

There is nothing wrong with it. It is part of a healthy self-image and a healthy body.

"So how many men jack-off here at your house Bob," I ask.

"Well, I have get-togethers of about four to five men, especially for male bonding, "he says, "there is a mix of men; straight, gay, bi-sexual and curious, various body types and ages, you do not have to participate, it is your choice. I have yet to have no one participate. Once the guy realizes he is in a safe environment. He is fine."

He says this in a bragging tone, he is quite proud of what he said.

"Oh," I say, questionably.

I find this hard to believe but I will take Bob at his word, I do not want to call him a liar and also do not want to lose the roofing job.

"So what is the deal when women visit?" I ask.

"The men are clothed, the women too," he says, "this is strictly when the company is all men."

"Okay, "I say, "I can live with that, so what exactly do y'all do?"

"We workout, "he says as he points to the weights and weight bench under the shed, "some wrestle, sometimes football games on television, bar-be-que, it just depends on what is planned or we just have a spontaneous get-together, where we just have fun."

"Fun?" I ask quiz-ably, I think I know but I want verification, I play dumb.

"We have group circle jerks or a group fuck, "he says.

"Oh, "I say. I am at a loss for words, so 'oh' is the best I can muster.

As we are talking. Bob's cock continues to harden; the fondling has reached its intended purpose, until he is at full mast. He has been steadily fondling himself in front of me. I did notice, I could not help but notice, considering the subject matter, he did sound like it turned him on. I am still in the pool, my body exposed only from the waist up but I am hard as a rock myself. I am intrigued. I admit. It does have a certain appeal to the whole thing.

Most men are not shy around each in the locker rooms, the dorm rooms, the frat houses or even the roommate situations, of course, or any of the other myriad situations where more than one man is in a shared environment. There are always a few who do not go along but those are the ones that believe the bullshit they have been fed.

"Look at me, "Bob says, "my cock is hard and it seems you're too, Dave."

He is being coy, playing his game; I think he is testing the waters, seeing how I would react or not react and how far I will go. I will play his little game, willingly.

"I am, "I say, I own up to it. His little story of bravado has me interested.

Bob leans back in the lounge chair, taking spittle from his mouth and mixing it with the leaking pre-cum, proceeds to stroke his cock, unabashed and unashamed.

I walk to the steps in the shallow end and emerge from the water; each step takes me out of the water. The water streaming off of me as I rise higher and higher out of the pool.

"You have a really nice cock, Dave," Bob says as he looks at me in my hardness. He strokes harder.

I walk by him in the chair, I do not touch myself, I let him revel in my manhood. I am not ashamed either. I am proud too.

I sit in the chair, next to him, lean back, and gather spittle from my own mouth and mix it with my juices. I join Bob in this male right that we both are a party too.

We join in unison as we stroke our respective cocks, glancing at each other, moans escaping from our mouths, caught up in the moment of our glorified man-hoods. We tease and taunt each other, our squeals of ecstasy, not fake or unnecessarily prolonged but real.

Bob stops and watches me stroke. My cock-head swollen to its fullest, his is too. Does he want me to cum first? Does he want to see the white spunk cover my chest and pubes?

I do not want to be the first to cum. Like any man, I thrive on competition; this is one game that I would like to win. So I quit stroking and let my body come down from the high it is experiencing.

He sees what I am doing. I can tell it in his eyes. This is the not the first engagement of this sort he has been involved in. His licks his lips, there is spittle in his goatee. His manhood thrust forward in front of him and shining in the afternoon sun, he resumes his stoking.

We are both drenched in sweat, our bodies producing a steady stream of it as it runs like tiny creeks off of our bodies on this day in Florida.

I resume my stroking too, keeping time with Bob as he strokes his cock.

Bob stands and walks to the pool edge.

I stand up, the power of my being centered in the glorious appendage between my muscled legs, thrust out from my body in all its might. I am proud.

I join him on the poolside; we increase the intensity of our stroking.

I can hold back no more.

He is nearing release, as I am.

I can feel the cum rising in my balls, making its way out. The sensation is mind-blowing, pure unbridled ecstasy. I can feel my face redden, my blood pressure changing, I am man and here is my proof.

My cum, my man-juice, my spunk, my seed, the other part of me that I can give to the world explodes from cock.

We both cum together and scream out.

"Fuck!"

Our cum mingles with the chlorinated water, white snake-like strings. The sperm is swimming with no destination or purpose except to just be there.

Bob dives in.

I follow.

 

TallyMans

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