It had been a couple of weeks since Derek fixed the AC, but I had not stopped thinking about him. Not even close. I had jerked off to the memory of that married handyman more times than I could count. Those tight blue work jeans stretched over his thick thighs and fat round ass. The way sweat ran down his spine and darkened his sleeveless flannel. The dark hair in his pits and that tempting treasure trail disappearing under his belt. Every time I closed my eyes I saw him filling my doorway like a wall, eyes lingering too long on my towel bulge.
I wanted to see him again. Badly.
Last time, I had played it somewhat decent with just a towel. Not today. I was done being subtle. I walked through the house looking for any excuse and found it quickly. The deck railing had been loose for weeks, one of the posts wobbling whenever I leaned on it. Perfect.
I grabbed my phone and texted him.
"Deck railing needs fixing."
His reply came back fast like always.
"On my way in about forty minutes."
My cock twitched just from seeing his name on the screen.
I moved to the living room and turned on the TV. I scrolled until I found exactly what I wanted. A scene with a hung top brutally throat fucking a muscled bottom. The camera angle was perfect, showing every thick inch sliding deep, the bottom’s throat bulging, spit dripping down his chin while the top gripped his head and thrust hard. I left the volume low but unmistakable. The wet gagging sounds and deep moans would carry through the open sliding door without being overwhelming.
I thought about answering the door completely naked, but my cock was already rock hard from the porn, standing straight up and leaking. Instead I pulled on my tightest pair of black briefs. They were filthy little things. The fabric hugged my ass like a second skin, riding high on my cheeks and cutting into the crease. In front they did nothing to hide my erection. My cock curved upward aggressively, the thick shaft clearly outlined, the head pushing against the waistband as if trying to break free. The material was thin enough that the shape of my balls showed too. This was way more dirty than the towel bulge had been. I checked myself in the mirror, adjusted the waistband so the bulge looked even bigger, and felt a rush of nervous excitement mixed with pure filth.
The knock came right on time.
I walked to the door in nothing but those tight black briefs and opened it.
Derek stood there, six foot three of pure construction muscle. His eyes went wide the moment they landed on my body. His gaze dropped straight to my cock, curved upward and straining hard against the black fabric. He stared for a long second, lips parting slightly before he caught himself.
"Morning… uh, back deck?"
His voice came out rougher than usual, a little strained. His ears were already turning pink.
"Yeah," I said casually. "The railing on the left side is loose. Come on in."
I stepped aside and let him pass. As he walked through the living room his eyes flicked to the TV. The porn was still playing. The hung top had the bottom on his knees, cock sliding deep into his throat with wet, disgusting sounds. The bottom gagged loudly while the top growled, "Yeah, fuck…Take it." Derek froze for half a second, neck flushing deep red, then quickly looked away and kept walking toward the sliding glass door that led to the back deck.
I followed him outside, my nearly naked body on full display in the bright sunlight. Derek set his toolbox down and got to work. He hauled fresh lumber from his truck, muscles flexing under the sleeveless flannel he wore. The fabric clung to his broad back, already starting to darken with sweat from the heat. Every time he bent over to measure or position a board that fat ass stretched his blue work jeans to the limit. The denim pulled so tight across his heavy cheeks that the seam disappeared between them. His thick thighs strained the fabric with every step. When he crouched down to hammer a nail his ass flexed powerfully, round and full, the back pockets stretching until I could see the outline of his wallet in one and the curve of his ass crack in the other.
The muscled bottom in the porn video looked like nothing compared to the real thing right in front of me. Derek’s ass was thicker, meatier, built from real work. I wanted to rip those jeans down right there and bury my face between those sweaty cheeks. I wanted to spread him open and taste him while he pretended he was not interested in any of this gay stuff.
Instead I lounged on the sofa inside, the sliding door wide open so he could see me clearly. The porn continued playing at low volume. Wet moans and gagging sounds drifted out onto the deck every time he walked past carrying lumber. I caught him stealing glances through the doorway. His neck stayed flushed red the whole time. Those thick arms glistened with fresh sweat as he hammered. Every swing made his biceps bulge and his shoulders flex. When he reached overhead to secure the top rail his sleeveless flannel rode up, exposing that dark hairy treasure trail and a strip of lower back damp with sweat.
I got bolder. While he worked I casually slid my hand into my briefs and started stroking myself slowly. Not hiding it. My cock was rock hard, leaking steadily. I pumped my fist up and down the shaft, thumb brushing over the head, while my eyes stayed glued to Derek’s body. Maybe he could see me. Maybe he could not. The thought that he might catch a clear view through the open door only made me harder. I wanted him to look. I wanted him to wonder.
I got up a few times to do small chores around the house, walking past the sliding door in just the tight black briefs. Each time I bent over to pick something up my ass cheeks flexed in the fabric, the briefs riding higher. I made sure to pass close to the doorway so the moans from the TV mixed with the sound of Derek’s hammer.
Three hours later the deck railing looked solid again. Derek wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, exposing both hairy armpits matted with sweat. His flannel was soaked through in places, clinging to the powerful muscles of his chest and back. He looked flushed and breathing heavier from the work and the heat.
I grabbed two cold beers from the fridge, popped the caps, and stepped outside. "Here. You earned this."
He took the bottle with a rough hand, calloused fingers brushing mine for a second. We sat down on the new deck, side by side on the wooden bench, our legs almost touching. The heat from his body radiated toward me. Sweat still rolled down the side of his neck.
Derek took a long pull from the beer, throat working as he swallowed. Then he spoke, voice low and rough.
"That… that shit on your TV earlier. You watch that kinda stuff?"
I smiled, keeping my tone calm and teasing. "Every fucking day. Why? Curious?"
He shifted on the bench, looking out at the yard instead of at me. "Nah… just wondering. I mean… what it’s like with a guy. For you."
I took a sip of my own beer and turned slightly toward him.
Derek drank faster, his free hand resting on his thigh. His jeans looked noticeably tighter in the crotch now. The bulge there had grown since he first arrived. "On that video… the dude was fucking his throat. Do… you enjoy it?"
I let his question hang for a moment, enjoying the way his ears burned red..
"Fucking a throat or getting my throat fucked?", I asked him.
He swallowed hard, awkwardly taking another long drink from the bottle. His crotch twitched visibly under the denim. "Both?"
I leaned back a little, letting my legs spread wider so my bulge in the tight black briefs stayed on full display.
"I like it both ways, Derek. As long as the guy is naked and both our cocks are hard. I don’t mind anything when it feels that good. Giving or taking. Slow and deep or rough and brutal. It is all hot when the chemistry is right."
Derek let out a short, awkward laugh, but there was no real humor in it. His eyes kept flicking down to my lap, then away again.
"Shit, seriously? You let a dude brutally fuck your throat like that?"
I smirked and looked him straight in the eye. "Not just my throat. I’d let him brutally fuck me too.”
He finished the rest of his beer in three big swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. The front of his jeans looked even tighter now, the thick outline of his cock pressing against the fabric. He stood up quickly, a little too fast, and wiped his hands on his thighs.
"Well… railing looks solid. I should get going."
I stayed seated, legs spread, still wearing nothing but the tight black briefs that left almost nothing to the imagination. My cock was still hard, curved upward in the fabric.
"Thanks for coming out, Derek. Always good to see you."
He nodded, not quite meeting my eyes, and headed toward the side gate. From the deck I watched him walk away. That fat ass flexed with every step, stretching the blue jeans obscenely. He glanced back once right before he reached his truck. His eyes dropped to my nearly naked body again, then he climbed in and drove off.
I stayed on the deck for a minute, heart pounding, cock aching. Then I went back inside, locked the door, and dropped onto the sofa where the porn was still playing. I shoved my briefs down, wrapped my hand around my throbbing cock, and stroked hard and fast. I replayed every detail. The way Derek’s eyes widened at my bulge. The red flush on his neck. The way his own crotch had thickened while we talked. The powerful flex of his fat ass while he worked. The nervous way he asked about the throat fucking.
I came hard within minutes, thick ropes of cum landing across my chest and stomach while the moans from the TV filled the room.
Derek was curious now. The straight married handyman had taken the first real step. And I knew it was only time before he’d want to take his first step with me.
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