My Straight Handyman Derek had texted me last night.
"Wife’s out of town this weekend. Let me know if you got any other jobs."
I stared at the message for a long time, my cock already stirring in my shorts. Why was he telling me? He could have waited for the next normal repair call. Instead he was volunteering that his wife was gone. Did that mean he finally had space to let that straight-boy curiosity breathe? Was he hoping I would give him a reason to come over without guilt hanging over his head? The thought made me smile. Married, six foot three, thick everywhere that mattered, and now he was cracking the door open himself.
I called him first thing the next morning.
"There is a plumbing leak under the kitchen sink that turned into a bigger job. Come over"
He answered quickly. "Yeah. I’ll be there in no time"
By the time Derek arrived, I was buzzing with anticipation. He showed up in the same worn blue work jeans that always hugged his massive thighs and fat ass so perfectly. His gray work shirt was already starting to darken with sweat by noon, the fabric clinging to his broad chest and thick arms. I stayed in tight gray gym shorts and a simple white tank, moving around him on purpose so my body brushed against his thick arms and back every chance I got.
He crawled under the sink, lying on his back with his legs spread wide. The position made those blue jeans stretch obscenely across his crotch and thighs. Every time he reached up with his wrench, his shirt rode up, exposing the dark treasure trail and the waistband of his underwear. Sweat glistened on his skin. The musky scent of hard-working man filled the small space.
I crouched beside him, pretending to watch the progress, my shoulder pressing lightly against his. The heat from his body was intense. Then the leak suddenly burst harder than before. A strong spray of water shot out and soaked Derek straight in the chest, drenching his shirt instantly. Some of it splashed onto my shorts too, making the gray fabric cling to my thighs and cock.
"Fuck," Derek cursed, sitting up quickly. Without thinking he grabbed the hem of his shirt and peeled the wet fabric off over his head.
That hairy, muscled chest came into full view. Broad pecs covered in dark hair that trailed down in a thick line over his abs. His thick arms flexed as he tossed the shirt aside. Water and sweat mixed together, making his skin shine. Fuck. He looked even better than I had imagined.
The water had also soaked my gym shorts completely. I stood up right in front of him and casually hooked my thumbs into the waistband. I pushed the shorts down my legs and stepped out of them, leaving me standing there in only a pair of tight white trunks. The wet fabric had turned almost see-through. My cock pressed heavily against the material, the thick shaft and head clearly imprinted for him to see.
Derek was still on the floor, looking up at me. His eyes went dark instantly. He stared at the outline of my cock like a man dying of thirst, unable to look away. His lips parted slightly. His breathing had changed.
"Are you always fucking horny?" he asked, voice low and rough.
I looked down at him with a small smile. "Can’t help it when I have a shirtless wet man on his knees in front of me ."
He shifted on the floor, still holding the wrench. "I am not on my knees. Just doing my job."
I tilted my head, letting my eyes drag slowly over his bare chest and thick arms. "Then why do you keep staring at my cock every time like you want a taste?"
Derek froze. His gaze dropped straight to the heavy imprint in my wet white trunks. He stared openly now, chest rising and falling faster. Then he slowly looked back up at me, eyes dark with something new.
I kept my voice calm and low. "Go on. Your wife won’t find out about this."
"I am not gay," he muttered, but even as the words left his mouth he was already moving. He dropped fully onto his knees on the kitchen floor, positioning himself upright so his face was only inches from my crotch. His rough, calloused hands reached up and rested on my waistband, fingers trembling just slightly.
"I did not say you were," I replied softly, looking down at the married construction stud on his knees in front of me.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the soaked trunks and pushed them down. My hard cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the head already shiny with precum. It was pure arousal from having Derek on his knees like this.
He stared at it for a long moment, breathing hard. Then he leaned forward. The first lick was hesitant, just the flat of his tongue dragging slowly over the head, tasting me. A low sound escaped his throat. He opened wider and took the head into his mouth. Wet heat surrounded me. His lips stretched around my shaft as he slowly sank down, taking more of me.
I watched every second. His stubbled jaw worked as he sucked. His thick arms rested on my thighs for balance. The gold wedding ring on his left hand glinted every time he moved, occasionally brushing against my balls with a soft metallic clink. The contrast was filthy and perfect. Married straight handyman on his knees, sucking his first cock while his ring touched my skin.
"Tastes okay?" I asked, voice husky.
Derek nodded slowly with my cock still in his mouth. He pulled back a little, then took me deeper again, his tongue swirling around the shaft, licking every inch. He grew bolder, cupping my balls gently with one hand, feeling their weight while he sucked. His eyes watered slightly but he did not stop. The wet sounds of his mouth filled the kitchen. Spit started to drip down my shaft and onto his hairy chest.
After a few minutes he pulled off, lips shiny and swollen, breathing heavily. He looked up at me, voice rough.
"How does that video thing work?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What video thing?"
"That porn video that was on that day," he said, eyes flicking away for a second before coming back to my cock. "The dude throat fucking the other guy."
I smirked and reached down, cupping his face with both hands. His stubble felt rough against my palms. "Open wide and relax your throat."
Derek opened his mouth obediently. I guided my cock back between his lips and pushed deeper this time, sliding toward the back of his throat. He gagged instantly, eyes watering hard, but he did not pull away. I held his head steady and started to thrust, slow and controlled at first, letting him adjust to the feeling of being used.
"Fuck, that is good," I groaned.
I pushed deeper with each thrust, feeling his tight throat squeeze around the head of my cock. Wet gagging sounds filled the room. Spit ran down his chin and dripped onto his bare chest, mixing with the water still on his skin. His hairy pecs glistened. His thick arms flexed as he gripped my thighs, trying to steady himself. Every time I pulled back, he gasped for air, then opened wide again, letting me slide back in.
I started fucking his face harder, holding his head in place while my hips moved. The head of my cock bumped the back of his throat over and over. Derek’s eyes streamed with tears but he kept taking it, moaning around my shaft. The vibrations felt incredible. His wedding ring kept clinking softly against my balls with every thrust, a constant filthy reminder of exactly who was on his knees for me.
"Relax your throat, big guy," I murmured. "Let me in."
He tried. Another deep push and I felt myself slide even further. His throat convulsed around me. More spit poured down. I fucked his mouth with steady, deep strokes, watching his lips stretch wide and his eyes look up at me, wrecked and hungry at the same time.
The pressure built fast. I held his head tighter and thrust harder, chasing the edge.
"Going to cum," I warned.
Derek did not pull away. I buried myself as deep as I could and unloaded. Thick ropes of cum painted his tongue and the back of his throat. I groaned loudly, hips jerking as I filled his mouth. He swallowed around me, gulping down every drop while his eyes watered.
When I finally pulled out, he gasped for air, lips red, chin shiny with spit and cum. He wiped his mouth and looked completely wrecked, chest heaving.
"Jesus Christ," he breathed, voice hoarse.
I smiled down at him, still catching my own breath. My cock glistened with his spit. "You did good."
He stayed on his knees for a moment longer, staring at my softening cock like he could not believe what he had just done. Then he slowly got back to his feet, wiped his hands on his jeans, and turned back toward the sink like nothing had happened. But his hands were shaking slightly as he picked up the wrench again.
I picked up my soaked trunks and shorts from the floor and walked toward the laundry room, a satisfied smile playing on my lips. Derek had crossed the line. It did not look like it was his first time sucking a man’s cock, but honestly, I did not care if he was lying to himself or pretending. The raw hunger in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He wanted more.
The straight married handyman had just taken his first real taste of cock, and I was not letting him leave today without giving him even more.
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