I sure as hell couldn't move the broken dresser myself. I mean I got muscles and a sleek body with killer abs, but I stand 5'8"and weighed 150 pounds soaking wet but this damn thing was way out of my league. When I asked the manager of this high class 55 story skyscraper that I just moved into, he suggested I talk to the maintenance dude, Sam Timberlake.
When I walked into his office and saw him on the phone, I instantly popped a woody. The man was at least 6'4', broad shoulders, pumped up arms with an opened blue flannel shirt and a white ribbed tank top stuck to his hairy chest by his manly sweat. His hair was black mixed with gray as was his mustache and his hairy chest.
Mr. Sam hung up the phone and stood up. "You're #902, correct?" He asked in a perfect Chicago accent. I couldn't help but notice. There was some something big beneath his jean's crotch, something like a weapon of "Ass destruction."
"Yes, sir. #902" I have always addressed sexy top men, calling them Sir, it made me feel like the respectful Bottom Boy I was. And some hot men really got turned on by being call, "Sir."
"What can I do for you?"
My name is Tommy Taylor the previous owners of my condo left a huge heavy dresser with broken glass on top. I tried moving it, but I couldn't. Too heavy. I'll pay you whatever you want to get it the hell out of my condo, Sir."
"I can't do it on the companies time, but when I get off tomorrow, I'll come take a look see."
"I appreciate it, Sir."
"Have a good night. See ya tomorrow."
"You too sir,"
In a daze of sexual heat rising up from my dick, I raced home to my condo. Shed my work clothes, jumped into bed and found the book I'd been reading called, Be A Man: 16 gay stories by R. W. Clinger. After reading a half of a chapter my cock stood up and demanded satisfaction. I was stiff as a flagpole. Down came my bikini briefs. I squirted lube on the palm of hand and whacked myself silly to a roaring climax picturing Mr. Sam stark naked with a raging hard-on getting ready to fuck my tight pink hole.
I was exhausted, panting ... hard as wood ... all before dinner. I got little sleep that night. Went to work next day. Hours passed slowly, I couldn't think of anything but a cock I'd never seen before.
Went to work completely distracted. At about 3 pm my co-worker Mare Clancey "Billy what guy are you think of?"
"Me? No ... nobody. And I finished my work a half-hour ago."
"You've been looking out into space all day so it must be a man."
"No. No."
"You've been scribbling the name "Mr. Sam" on your legal pad."
I broke down. "Oh, Mare he's gorgeous and I know he's straight and I know I'm a fool because nothing is ever going to happen. But ... he ... he's a piece of art."
"I've heard this song before. You are such a romantic, Tommy."
Work ended and I couldn't wait to get home. I would have time to shower before he came to get the dresser.
When I came home my front door was open. I panicked a little. Stepping into my condo, I saw no one. I looked around. Nothing. Then I heard a noise from my bedroom. I walked in. The damaged dresser was on a contraption with wheels.
There he was. No shirt. His abs were stunning. He was bending over securing the dresser to a plank of wood with wheels.
His body glistened with manly sweat. I stepped behind him. The waistband of his white Hanes underwear peeked out of his jeans. I got hard. Briefs or Boxer briefs, I wondered.
"You've already done it, Mr. Sam."
He turned around. "It was a bitch, damn heavy but all I have to do is wheel it to the dumpster. It was an easy day. You got a beer?"
"I got whiskey."
"Better yet."
I moved in slow motion to the Kitchen and made him a whiskey and seven. "Whiskey and Seven, Okay?" Quickly I made myself one.
"That's my drink." He shouted back.
I brought him his drink. "Here you go, sir."
"My name is Sam, Tom not sir." He smiled at me. He pointed to some polish wood and two cushions by the window. "What's this mess?"
"I bought a reading chair, but it came unassembled. I tried to build it, but I screwed it up."
"Maybe, I can help."
"Thank you. How much do I owe you for this?"
"25 bucks and a blowjob."
I choked on my drink. "How did you know I was gay? All my friends say I'm the straightest gay person they know."
"Agreed."
"Then how did you know?"
You have a book on your bed entitled "Be a Man: 16 Gay stories" with a photo of a man in his tighty-whities with better abs than I have."
"Oh, shit."
In that moment of silence, I heard him unzip his fly. Then he laid down on my bed and pulled out an impressively large cock and started jacking it. Without another word, I pulled his 8-incher into my mouth swirling my tongue around the head of his circumcised cock. I choked on it as I pulled it in deeper down into my throat. It slid down like butter. I felt his hand rest gently on my head. Slowly I swallowed more of his cock now leaking pre-cum - mana from heaven. I started slowly jacking his dick as I licked his big hairy balls. His jeans came off. He pulled my shirt over my head and threw it. I pulled his underwear down. Wow, I said to myself. He's wearing briefs.
I wanted his cum! But I had to lick his hairy butthole first and when I did, he moaned and spread his legs. My tongue went deeper and with purpose. I jerked his cock as I sucked him. Faster and faster. He began breathing harder. And gasping from my licking tongue. His breathing came faster he was going to cum. Testing the waters I put a finger in my mouth soaking it with my spit then plunged it up his hole.
He howled as he came. I swallowed every drop licking him clean. He tasted like saltwater taffy. From nowhere I let loose an explosion of cum onto my stomach. We laid there; he played with my hair.
Finally, he spoke. "I'll be back tomorrow to put together your reading chair." In a few minutes he was dressed and I ... naked walked him to the door.
