Ethan woke up with a hangover that felt like a truck had parked on his skull, like his brain had been flattened by a dump truck, then backed over just to make sure. The sunlight stabbing through the blinds felt cruel, spotlighting the heap of crumpled clothes he’d peeled off before collapsing into bed. His mouth tasted like ashtray soda—which made perfect sense, since an empty Coke can sat on the floor with cigarette butts floating inside like some trashy cocktail.
His phone wouldn’t shut up. Notifications buzzed in waves—blurry, drunken selfies of his friends still celebrating what should have been his last summer before college. But it wasn’t. Not for him. One bad grade had chained him to summer school, and last night’s escape only made things worse.
From the kitchen came the sound of his mother pacing—sharp footsteps, cabinet doors slamming hard enough to rattle glass. She’d already warned him after the last party—curfew blown, neighbors complaining—that one more screw-up would be it. This morning, she was past “it.” He didn’t need to see her face to know it was twisted with fury and disappointment.
When she finally stormed into his room, it was like a one-woman SWAT raid. Her voice was low but sharp, slicing right through his hangover.
“You’re not leaving this house. Not today, not next week—try a year, Ethan. A year. You think I’m bluffing? Go ahead. Prove me wrong.”
He tried to laugh, to shrug it off as another empty threat. But the look in her eyes—cold, hard, like she’d already buried him six feet under and was just waiting for the dirt to settle—told him she meant every word.
And then she twisted the knife: “The plumber’s coming this afternoon. The toilet in the master bathroom is leaking again, and you’ll be here to let him in. Since you’ve got nowhere better to be, you can sit tight and wait.”
Ethan groaned, sinking deeper into his mattress. A prison sentence. His whole summer stolen, capped with his very first “job”: babysitting a plumber.
By noon, his mother was in full dictator mode. She forced him out of bed, firing little jabs as she crossed the kitchen: “Maybe if you’d spent more time on schoolwork instead of being an idiot, you’d be packing for college right now.”
Around one o’clock she grabbed her purse and declared she had errands to run. Ethan knew what that really meant: escape—getting away before she committed a felony. She gave him one last hard look, a silent dare—Screw this up and see what happens—before slamming the door behind her.
That left Ethan alone in the house with his pounding head, the stale smell of last night still hanging in the air, and the sacred responsibility of waiting for some fat, hairy, butt-crack plumber to come fix the “royal throne.” The irony wasn’t lost on him. Freedom? Not a chance. Just him, a leaky toilet, and the longest afternoon of his life.
The plumber showed up about ten minutes later, knocking on the door with a steady, unhurried rhythm. When Ethan opened it, his breath caught. This was no paunchy old geezer with a toolbox. This was… something else entirely.
The man standing there filled the doorway like he owned it. He was probably mid-forties, maybe closer to fifty, but the years had only made him better. His hair was cut short, steel-gray threading the temples, and his skin bore the bronze of long days in the sun. His jaw was square and stubborn, shadowed with rough stubble that begged to scrape against skin. His coveralls hugged a body that looked built out of lumber and iron—broad chest, thick shoulders, arms roped with muscle that flexed even when still. His thighs pressed against the fabric, heavy and powerful, giving him a kind of grounded presence that made Ethan feel lighter just standing in front of him. He wasn’t movie-star pretty—nothing polished or fragile about him—but he had that rugged, dependable kind of sex appeal, like the Maytag Man or the paper towel guy come to life.
Ethan froze, staring.
The plumber gave an easy, knowing smile and stuck out his hand. His palm was broad, roughened, work hardened. “Hey, little dude. I’m Pete, the plumber.”
Ethan’s eyes flicked from the man’s face to his chest, then back again. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until Pete chuckled softly. The sound rumbled low in his chest, and it jolted Ethan back into the moment.
“Oh. Uh—yeah. Sure.” Ethan stammered, finally reaching out. Pete’s grip closed around his hand—firm, warm, steady. For an instant Ethan couldn’t let go.
Pete tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “So… can I maybe come in? Your mom said you’ve got a busted toilet.”
“Right, right. Of course.” Ethan stepped aside hurriedly, still buzzing from the handshake, watching as Pete hefted a toolbox the size of a small cooler into the entryway. A heavy leather toolbelt was already slung low around his waist, the steel glint of wrenches and hammers hanging from it. Ethan’s fingers brushed against one of the tools almost absently, tracing the handle like it was part of the man himself.
The silence stretched, thick and awkward, until Pete broke it with another grin. “And the bathroom? I’ll need to know where that is.”
Ethan startled, snatching his hand back like he’d been caught. “Oh—yeah. This way.” He turned quickly, leading Pete down the hallway. He could hear the steady weight of Pete’s boots behind him, the metallic jingle of the toolbelt with every step.
They passed through his parents’ bedroom on the way to the master bath. Pete glanced at the massive bed dominating the room and let out a low whistle. With a quick wink, he said, “I always like a big spot for action, you know what I mean?”
Ethan nearly tripped over his own feet. The man was impossible—casual, confident, radiating that kind of everyman sexiness that didn’t need polish or pretense. And Ethan, still flushed, realized he was devouring every second of it and blocking the doorway to the bathroom, oblivious
“Mind if I squeeze past?” Pete asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer. As he stepped closer, Ethan tried to move aside—too quickly. His heel snagged on the edge of the toolbox, and he pitched forward with a startled gasp, colliding with Pete.
Instinctively, Pete’s hands caught his arms, steadying him. Ethan’s face burned. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—” he stammered.
But Pete didn’t brush him off. Instead, he offered a crooked grin, holding him a beat longer than necessary. “Guess I should’ve warned you I was coming through,” he teased, his eyes lingering—warm, amused, and steady on Ethan’s – casually patting the boy on his ass as he let him go.
Ethan, his heart racing to maximum speed, casually walked out of the bathroom and said, “Let me know if you need anything, Pete.”
“I sure will,” said the handsome plumber, winking.
Once out of sight, Ethan ran through the bedroom and down the hallway at top speed, realizing he had about three minutes to transform himself from “post-hangover loser” into “effortlessly hot.”
He bolted through his bedroom door, running straight to the bathroom. The world’s fastest shower commenced: shampoo, rinse, conditioner-for-five-seconds, rinse, done. He nearly slipped climbing out, hopping on one foot while trying to towel-dry and brush his teeth at the same time.
He found his oldest, most threadbare pair of cut off shorts in the back of his closet and put them on. When he looked in the mirror, he could just barely make out his cock and balls outlined in the thin, worn fabric. He tugged the waistband up in back making sure it conformed to his butt crack. He decided no shirt would be best – Ethan then ran back down the hall, slowing to casual as he headed for his parent’s bedroom.
As he wandered down the hall, he could hear metal tools clinking against tile, Pete humming low to himself as he worked. Ethan swallowed his nerves and walked back to the bathroom, trying to project casual confidence while his heart sprinted in his chest.
Pete was shirtless, having pulled down the top of his coveralls, sweating, and the three buttons on the sides were open and gaping. He had thick hair covering his meaty chest and Ethan could see a pelt of darker hair trailing down to his pubes, boxer shorts clearly seen.
“Hey, Pete, you haven’t seen a t-shirt on the floor in there, have you?” Ethan said, making sure to show off his bubble butt when bending over to look under the bed.
Pete looked up from underneath the vanity, smiled wickedly, eyed the boy’s basket in his sheer briefs, and said, “Don’t bother on my account, little dude. It’s just us guys here.”
“Oh, OK,” Ethan said. “If you’re sure you really don’t mind?”
Pete was crouched by the toilet again, sleeves pushed up, forearms flexing as he tightened something with a wrench. Ethan leaned against the doorframe, trying for casual.
Pete chuckled, setting the wrench down and wiping his hands on his coveralls. “Well, you cleaned up nice. But you don’t need to impress me. I’m just here for the pipes.” He let the words hang, tone dipping suggestively, before adding, “Though I don’t mind a little company while I work.”
Ethan felt the floor tilt under him. He forced himself to saunter in, perching on the counter nearby. “Guess I’ll just sit here, then. Supervise. Make sure you…handle everything properly.”
Pete shot him a look, amused, like he knew exactly what game Ethan was trying to play—and didn’t mind at all.
Pete crouched low to inspect the base of the toilet, and the motion made the fabric of his coveralls stretch tight across his ass, showing his crack.
“Looks like a bad seal,” Pete muttered looking over his shoulder at Ethan, with a wicked grin. His voice was casual, but there was a gravelly undertone that made Ethan’s stomach flutter.
Ethan nodded quickly, though he hadn’t really heard the words. His eyes were fixed on the top of the plumber’s ass, as Pete pulled a wrench from his belt and tested its grip.
“You don’t have to hover, little dude,” Pete said after a moment, glancing up at him with a smirk. Caught red-handed, Ethan flushed and laughed too loudly. “Sorry. I just—wanted to make sure you had everything you need.”
Pete arched a brow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry. I always come prepared.” He gave the wrench a quick twist to demonstrate, the muscles in his arm flaring with the effort. “But if you want to hang around, I won’t stop you.”
Ethan swallowed hard, leaning against the counter, pretending to be casual. His pulse, though, betrayed him—fast, thumping, and Ethan realized that watching this man fix a toilet was somehow the most magnetic thing he’d ever seen.
Pete glanced over his shoulder, catching Ethan staring again. The corner of his mouth tugged into a grin. “You’re real quiet back there. Watching me work?”
Ethan felt heat rise up his neck. “I… just making sure you, um, don’t need anything.”
Pete chuckled low in his chest, turning a wrench with slow, deliberate effort, the muscles in his arm straining in full view. “I usually don’t,” he said, voice gravelly, teasing. “But sometimes it’s nice to have someone keeping an eye on me.”
Ethan shifted where he stood, fingers gripping the bathroom counter. He couldn’t look away—every motion Pete made seemed electric.
Ethan swallowed hard, nodding. Pete smirked and bent down again, this time deliberately slow, giving Ethan a full view, toying with him.
“So,” Pete said casually, voice muffled as he worked, “your folks usually leave you all alone in this big house?”
The question landed like a spark. Ethan stammered something halfway coherent, but Pete only chuckled again, the sound low and intimate, as if he enjoyed watching him squirm.
Pete popped his head out from under the sink, looked over at Ethan, grinning, and said “I’ve got my hands full here, son, and I’ve got a terrible itch on my belly. You think you could scratch it for me?”
Ethan froze, believing he’d misheard. Pete put his head back under the sink, saying, “Right in the middle.”
Ethan slowly moved to the floor and crawled over, reaching under Pete, he nervously slid both hands into his chest hair, scratching all over his belly and stomach.
“Feels so good, but just a little bit lower,” said Pete.
Ethan moved his hands down, sinking into Pete’s coveralls, reaching in and using both hands to rub into the plumber’s pubes, scratching in his thick bush and underneath his ball sack. Hefting the plumber’s heavy nuts, Ethan rolled the plums in his palms, weighing and lovingly squeezing each one, his nose against Pete’s back, inhaling deeply.
“Now just a little higher,” growled Pete. “And this, little dude, is all yours.”
Ethan slid his hand up the plumber’s hard, warm shaft, stroking up to his skin covered knob, pushed the skin down, exposing the piss slit as juice oozed out.
Pete turned over, pushing his coveralls down to his feet and throwing them out of the way. Laying on his back, completely naked, massive cock sticking straight up, Ethan pumped with both hands, playing with the head and spreading precum up and down the shaft..
Pete moved his hand into the tent Ethan’s stiff rod was making in his worn shorts. “Right here?” Pete asked, grabbing the boy’s hard length until he hit the wet crown and Ethan squealed.
Pete’s face was close to Ethan’s ass, he pulled up one of the boy’s legs and rubbed his nose in the crack, squeezing the cock harder, jacking it faster, pressing his tongue against his butthole, eating him.
“Oh, God!” the boy squealed, the intensity building inside the boy. Trying hard to control himself but not being able to, it didn’t take much longer before he shot his cream into his thin briefs. “Looks like somebody’s made a little mess,” said the plumber. “But I can clean it up.” Pete, gave a wink, licking and sucking his cum through his underwear.
The thin fabric of his briefs almost transparent, his prick still hard and bunched in the cum-soaked crotch, a large meaty hand reached over and whipped the boy’s briefs down his legs and away.
“Hey, little dude, mind if Daddy has a suck?”
He swooped down on the boy and took his whole cock into his warm, wet mouth. When he reached the base, Pete stuck his tongue out and licked Ethan’s balls, backed up and slathered all around his shaft and cockhead.
The plumber reached into his toolbox, pulled out a jar, and opened it. He dipped a couple of fingers into it, reached between the boy’s legs, rubbed some on his ass crack and then his hole. Ethan spread his legs wider and squatted down a little, as the plumber slipped a thick finger in, bobbing his head and sucking on the stiff erection.
Ethan moaned, writhing on the floor, as Pete stuck another finger up the boy’s chute, shoving and twisting it as his other hand groped and twiddled his ball sack. Ethan pushed his ass down on the jabbing fingers, and after a half dozen more jabs, Pete pushed his fingers in deep and kept them there. Ethan continued to moan and squeal and groan, trying to get the fingers deeper into his ass.
“Whoa, little man,” laughed Pete, as he pulled his fingers out of the boy’s ass. “I gotta take a break or I’m gonna cum. You wouldn’t want me to waste a load, would you?”
“No, sir,” Ethan sighed, sitting on the floor, leaning against the vanity, catching his breath. He could see how the man’s salt and pepper chest hair turned darker as it ran in a river over his belly down toward his thick cock and balls.
Pete turned over, naked, and started working on the drain again, picking up the wrench he’d left inside the vanity. Ethan got on his hands and knees and laid his head on Pete’s ass, using it as a pillow. As the plumber worked, Ethan crawled down and positioned himself between Pete’s legs and stuck his nose into his crack, inhaling his sweaty, manly aroma, licking and tasting his hole.
As Ethan slurped and ate greedily, he heard Pete inside the vanity, making a phone call.
“Hi, bro. Yeah. I could use another pipe over here. Where are you? I’m still over at the Williamson’s working on that sink. You’re only five minutes away. Oh yeah. He’s got his tongue up my ass right now. No, no, his ma won’t be back until late afternoon. Just come in the back door. This little slut is begging for it.”
Pete turned over, lifted both legs, pulling his cheeks apart, exposing his hole so Ethan had better access. “Get on in there, baby! Lick that fuck hole!” Pete grabbed the boy’s head, legs still up, and pulled Ethan’s head roughly deeper. Ethan pushed his tongue as far up the plumber’s ass as he could, slurping and sucking.
Pulling the boy off him, Pete grabbed a pillow from the bed in the bedroom, put it on the floor and sat down. “Get down here,” he growled. “And lick my rod, baby.”
Ethan eagerly complied. As the man’s juices started flowing, he grabbed his boner and slapped his face with it, rubbing back and forth, smearing Pete’s wet precum all over his face.
As Ethan sucked the huge, fat cock, Pete commanded, “Slide your ass over her, baby!” Spreading the boy’s cheeks, sliding two fingers from each hand into the boy’s hole, he massaged and stretched him, working the hot tunnel. Using the lube he’s applied earlier, he began finger fucking him like before. Ethan groaned and tried to push himself deeper on Pete’s fingers as they went in and out of his ass.
The backdoor opened and slammed not long after. There was the sound of clothes hitting the floor and a man walked over to stand beside Pete. He was a slightly younger version of the plumber, fit and muscular with a pelt of dark hair all over his body. He held his stiff, long cock in front of his brother’s face and the plumber slid his mouth down the hard pipe.
Pete took two of his fingers out of Ethan’s pussy and brought them around to his brother’s butt. After fucking him a few times, he brought them back around to his face, seeing that his fingers were wet. He sniffed, licking them and asked, "What have you been up to, bro?”
“I went over to see Dad,” the brother explained. “I got an itch in my ass and Dad took care of it.”
Pete looked up at his brother and winked, spreading the boy’s ass cheeks and chuckling, “I got my boy’s pussy all ready for you, bro. Stick that monster knob up his fine little cunt.”
The brother quickly moved behind, lining up his erection with Ethan’s channel. He felt the brother’s shaft break into his hole, and it hurt, but he just concentrated on sucking Pete’s prick and finger fucking his hairy asshole, while pushing back on the brother’s driving thrusts.
“Yeah, let me in, you little bitch. I need that hole!” growled the brother.
Ethan bucked and sucked in uninhibited cock lust.
“Down to the root, cum slut. Work that tongue!” groaned Pete.
With one plumber’s cock in his mouth and another in his asshole, Ethan loved being spit roasted. His cock was so hard it ached. He was still busy fucking Pete’s ass with three fingers and the plumber was thrusting on them, pushing down.
“Get inside that fuck hole!” Pete bellowed. “Fuck me with those fingers like you mean it!”
Ethan opened his throat, taking more of Pete’s length into his mouth, almost gagging and then coming up for air, sucking and licking the head.
Suddenly, Ethan screamed, “OH GOD! OH, MY FUCKING GOD!” and his hefty dick shot a load of cum all over the floor, spurt after spurt.
Seeing this, the brother started talking dirty, “Yeah, suck his fucking cock. You like my fuck rod up your hot boy pussy, don’t you, slut? You’re a nasty little cock pig. I’m gonna fill your cunt with hot cock cream. FFFFUUUUUUUCCCKKKK!” The boy’s climax caused him to squeeze down hard on the brother’s big fat prong and he screamed out as he blew a load up his butt, plunging as deep as he could.
That put Pete over the edge. “Yes! Yes! Motherfucker! EAT THAT FUCKING COCK!”
As his brother was filling up the boy’s ass, pubes to cunt, Pete was flooding his mouth, face to pubes, with hot delicious sperm. Ethan swallowed as fast as he could, but Pete’s load was so big, white spunk leaked out of both sides of his mouth.
Breathing hard, the brother slid out of Ethan’s hole as his cock softened and Ethan fell backward off Pete’s big dick, laying on the floor to catch his breath.
The brother gave Pete a hand up off the floor, completely naked, they gave each other a deep kiss, practically eating each other. Ethan just lay on the floor, kind of wallowing in his spunk, his face covered with Pete’s seed and his ass leaking the brother’s.
They dressed quickly, gathered up Pete’s tools, and got ready to leave.
“Little Dude, you’re got a fucking hot pussy! We appreciate it.” Turning to his brother, Pete barked, “Thank the boy, fucker.”
“Oh, yeah, bro, Your cunt is so tight. Thanks for sharing it.” said the brother.
On the way out, leaning down to the floor and giving Ethan a deep kiss, Pete said, “Hey, little dude, I’ll give you a call next week and see if you wanna go see our Dad.”
“Fuck, he’s gonna love you, little dude. Such a cock hound,” added the brother.
Ethan’s eyes lit up and he gushed, “Sure, boys, that sounds like fun. Thanks for unclogging my pipes.”
The brothers walked out the door. Ethan smiled as he heard the door shut. “Fuck you, Mom!” he thought. “I’ll babysit the plumbers anytime.”
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