Lunch Break
By noon, the July sun was merciless. The crew had been working hard for three hours, and the backyard was already beginning to take shape with fresh framing and piles of lumber.
Lunch hour arrived, and the eight sweaty, dirty men decided it was the perfect time to “cool off” inside the air-conditioned house.
They filed in through the sliding glass door without knocking, their heavy boots thudding against the hardwood. The living room was instantly filled with the thick, overpowering musk of eight working men who had been laboring shirtless in the heat---a potent mix of fresh sweat, old ball musk, dirty armpits, and the musky funk of unwashed work clothes.
Jack, who had been watching them from the window, turned around with wide, innocent blue puppy-dog eyes. He was still wearing nothing but his tiny white athletic shorts, which clung to his milky-white thighs and did almost nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline of his huge cock.
The men plopped down heavily on the living room furniture without asking---Big Tommy taking up most of the couch with his massive gut, Vince sprawling in the recliner, and the others claiming whatever space was left. Their dirty, sweat-slick bodies left damp marks on the fabric as they eyed Jack openly.
Not sure what else to do, Jack offered a shy smile. “Would you guys like some cold beers?”
A few of the men grinned. “That’d be great, kid,” Marco rumbled.
Jack hurried to the kitchen and returned with an armful of cold bottles, handing them out one by one. As he moved between the big, dirty men, the heavy musk in the room grew thicker, making his head feel light. He liked it. He wanted to stay close to them.
The men made small talk while cracking open the beers.
“So, Jack,” Marco asked, his deep voice casual, “what’ve you been doing this summer? Just hanging around the house?”
Jack nodded sweetly, standing in front of them with his hands clasped behind his back. “Mostly helping around the house and getting ready for college. I’m starting in the fall.”
One of the newer guys, a stocky, hairy-chested man who goes by Tank, chuckled. “You got a girlfriend? Or you too busy studying?”
Jack blushed that pretty pink and shook his head. “No girlfriend… I’m not really dating anyone right now.”
The tension in the room thickened. Jack, in his innocent way, tilted his head and asked softly, “Do you guys work out a lot? You all look really strong.”
Vince, the cocky tattooed blond, smirked and flexed one thick arm. “Yeah, we stay in shape. You want to feel how hard these pecs are?”
Jack’s big blue eyes widened with soft wonder. “Really? Can I?”
A couple of the men laughed low and dirty. The air was electric now.
Marco couldn’t take it anymore.
He stood up slowly, towering over the small blond boy. He stepped so close that Jack could smell the raw, pungent scent of his sweaty pits and the heavy musk rolling off his dirty body. Marco’s big, meaty, calloused hand reached out and pawed openly at Jack’s smooth, pale chest, thumb brushing over one tender pink nipple.
Leaning down until his bearded face was inches from Jack’s angelic one, Marco whispered in a low, rough growl:
“You really want to help us blow off some steam, boy?”
The room went dead silent, every man staring at Jack with raw hunger.
Jack looked up at Marco with those big, soft, innocent blue eyes, full lips slightly parted, and whispered back:
“…Yes, please.”
End of Chapter 2
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