Small Town Paradise

Dylan

 My name is Alex.  I’m 37 years old and single.  Here is my story about how I recovered from a long period of self-imposed celibacy and rediscovered my long-suppressed sexual drive.

After spending the last 12 years starting an tech business in Silicon Valley that took off like a rocket and kept on building, I found myself completely burnt out, both emotionally and physically, and so long without sex that I had forgotten what it was. I was exhausted in every way.  So I decided, when an offer came that I could not refuse to buy out the business I found myself very wealthy but single and in need of a new life.  I needed a new start.  Happily for me, an old friend who was one of my initial investors, Bob, generously offered me the long-term use of his house in a small town in the Sierra Nevada foothills.  He said he was giving me a gift that I deserved and needed.  I jumped at the offer, not knowing how long I would stay, but not caring either.  Little did I know I would rediscover the pleasures of the body and find true happiness in a small town sexual paradise.

My friend explained the layout of the house, where it was situated, etc. and explained that he kept services for cleaning and yard care.  Two young men named Dylan and ‘Nando would provide “personal pool and garden service.”  It all sounded great, so I agreed and planned to stay for six months.  I didn’t ask what he meant by “personal pool and garden service.”  I was soon to find out.

I made my way in my Audi A8 on a beautiful June day, across the central valley and into the green forests of the foothills, feeling my energy return with every mile, and arriving in early afternoon.  The town was (is) charming, and the house the perfect place for me—a large kitchen and a master bedroom, both with French doors that opened to a wide terrace out back, and a gorgeous swimming pool sequestered in a very private back yard with flower beds and surrounded by trees and a tall wooden fence.  A gate at the rear opened onto an alley.  I started breathing normally for the first time in 12 years when I saw it.

I had only just finished scouting out the house and yard when the doorbell rang.  I opened the front door to find a most beautiful young man.  Here was a young guy 5’8” or so, slender, tan, with sapphire blue eyes, dark blond hair nicely cut, barefoot, and wearing a hoodie, blue jeans, and sneakers.

The young man was Dylan, who introduced himself and explained he was 25, about to start graduate school, and that Bob has hired him to clean the pool three times a week, check the chemicals, and generally tidy up the area.  He said he usually comes over on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, but “any time would work for him.”  This was a Saturday, so I agreed that I’d see him in two days and that was that.  We shook hands and he left.  No explanation of what was to be “personal service.” 

Later that day the doorbell rang again .  I opened it to find another beautiful young man—Latino, small, about 5’4” and a very slim taut body.  He had black eyes, black wavy hair, a two-day growth of beard on a lean face. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and baggy shorts.  He introduced himself as ‘Nando (short for Ferdinando), who Bob had hired as gardener for two mornings a week, Tuesday and Thursday.  We spoke briefly and he explained that he was 37, married, with two small kids.  We agreed to talk more on Tuesday.

After two nights of the best sleep I’d had in years I woke up late on Monday to hear faint noises coming from the pool area.  I drew back the curtains on the French doors and looked out to find Dylan skimming leaves out of the pool with the net, wearing a T-shirt and cargo shorts.  Monday.   

On Tuesday, ‘Nando drove up in his Chevy Silverado pick-up and trailer.  He wore a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and knee-length, baggy cut-off grey pants.

On Wednesday Dylan arrived in his old Ford Ranger pick-up, wearing a loose tank top and short cut-offs that clung nicely to his torso and his beautiful cheeks.

On Thursday, ‘Nando came in wearing only his baggy cut-off shorts.  I could now see his taut torso and chiseled abs.  There was not an ounce of fat on his bantamweight body, and his waist could not have been more than 24”.  He had such slim hips that it was a wonder his pants stayed up.

On Friday Dylan appeared wearing only a bright blue Speedo suit that cupped a sizeable bulge at his crotch and showed off his beautiful buns to even greater effect.

On Monday week I woke up late and looked out the bedroom windows.  What I saw made my jaw drop.  There was Dylan in the altogether—stark naked, glistening with oil, and with a perfect golden bronze tan all over.  I already knew his body was flawless—slender, sleek and fit without being overly muscled, and with soft, round shoulders—but now I could fully see his beautifully full buns. He had absolutely no body hair; his 7” cock and balls were completely shaved. I gasped before going outside.

“Good morning!,” I croaked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Good morning, Alex, I hope I didn't wake you.  I’ll be done here in a minute if you want to swim.”

“Take your time,” I said, “I need coffee.” and went into the kitchen, not quite knowing how to react to this completely nonchalant, uninhibited young man.  He was hot, and for the first time in a long, long time I was horny.  I took a few deep breaths, poured myself coffee from the machine and went back outside.  

“So, Dylan,” I said, “I’m, um, glad you feel comfortable working here.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he replied, “I like to get out of clothes whenever I can, you know what I mean?  I didn’t think you’d mind.”

I stood there staring at him.  I was so agog at his god-like beauty that I didn’t have words except “I, um…I… You have a really nice body, Dylan.” He looked back for a long pause until, smiling but without saying anything, he put down the skimmer pole, moved toward me, took my coffee mug from me and put it down and then slowly pulled off my T-shirt and untied the pajama shorts I had slept in.  “There, that’s better.  You don’t need to wear clothes around me.”  He cast his eyes over my body and they widened a little as they met mine.  He smiled, and I think his nice, long dick stiffened a bit.  I was getting a hint as to what “personal pool service” actually meant.  I was suddenly an eager client.

“You have a really nice body, too, Alex.  Bob said that I’d pleased to meet you.  Now I see why.  He told me that you needed to relax, so how about if you let me help you do that.”  From somewhere he found a bottle of warm oil, poured some around my neck so that it flowed down my chest and down my back into my buns.  Then he started gliding his hands all over my body—my pecs and stomach, up to my shoulders, into my arm pits, down my arms, around and down my back, softly caressing my buns, and well between them until I was glossy and slick all over with oil.  Finally he held my cock in one hand and cupped my balls in his other.  I was instantly semi-erect.  Then, while continuing to stroke my cock with one hand, he pulled me into him with his other hand on my back and planted a soft kiss on my eager mouth.  I whimpered.  

He broke the kiss, dropped down in a squat, held my cock gently, and kissed the tip.  Then, slowly, slowly he ran his tongue around the crown and tickled the slit.  Then, again slowly, he took it in his mouth before plunging all the down to my pubes.  I whimpered again.  I had forgotten the silky sensation it is to have a man take my cock in and out of his mouth and down his throat in long, full strokes.  I was breathing hard.  I had not been touched this way in a long time.  Finally he pulled off, stood up, came around behind me, pressed his full body onto my back and his own hard cock in the crack of my ass.  He wrapped his arms around me and used one hand to stroke my chest and abs and another to stroke my cock until it was completely hard. He paused and said, “Does this feel good to you?”

“Yes!,” I squeaked, not believing this was happening to me.

He continued to stroke my cock, fondle my balls, and rub his erection up and down between my oil-slicked ass cheeks.  He spoke low into my ear as I got closer and closer to orgasm.

“I’m sure you remember how to do this, how to shoot a big load of cum…

Do you think you can?...

I’m sure you remember…

Are you getting close to the edge, Alex?  I know I am.  It’s time for you to let go.  Time to shoot hot cum across the lawn.  I want to see you shoot hot cum across the lawn.  And I want you to lift up your cock and spray hot cum all over your body and maybe splash some on your face.” 

I was breathing heavily by now and starting to feel body sensations that I didn’t know I could have anymore—a warm tingle all over my body and a need for release of something that had been dammed up for a long time.  Yes, I was getting close.  Yes, I wanted to shoot hot cum out of my cock and spray it all over the lawn and all over me

“How about now, Alex?,” he murmured in my ear as he was gently stroking my raging hard-on.  “Are you close?  Let’s shoot off together.  Are you ready?  OK?  Are you ready?  Here we go… uh!, uh!, uh!, uh!, yeeeesssss!…”

And with that I could feel a shot of his hot semen gush up my spine and drip down into my ass.  My whole body reacted with a spasm and I started to release a pent-up twelve-year load of hot jizz.  Orgasmic waves shuddered through me with each pulse of cum and I screamed loud as I pumped out long, heavy ropes of cum that shot out about five feet and, pulling my cock up, sprayed my pecs and neck and face.  I grunted with each pulse.  It felt like I shot out about a quart.

Dylan caught me as I fell backward and nearly collapsed onto the ground.  He gently folded me in his arms and whispered “That’s all for today.  I’ll see you on Wednesday.”