Down the Drain

It was nearly 3AM when an exhausted Josh collapsed on the couch and drifted off to the swishing of the Maytag in the kitchen, his snores softly echoing in the stark-but-clean living room.

***

The sun was slanting in through the naked front windows and gleaming off the floor, casting a honey-colored glow to the room when Josh struggled to open his eyes. But it wasn't the midmorning light, nor the assault of a half-dozen cleansers still lingering in the air that brought him to consciousness. It was septic alarm, reprising its shrill cry through the floorboards from the cellar below. He clapped his hand over his eyes.

"Not. Fucking. Happening." he croaked hoarsely.

He blearily stumbled into the basement to silence the alarm, then made his way to the fridge where he had stuck the wrinkled invoice with a magnet to spare it from the previous night's historic cleaning rampage. He studied the thin crumply paper. There were two phone numbers on it. The first was printed at the top on the company heading, but Sean had drawn a line through it in pen and scrawled a different number underneath. Probably changed phone numbers and had an entire box of letterhead to use up, Josh reasoned as he massaged the sleep from his eyes with his thumb and index. Sean didn't exactly strike him as the polished professional type, but then he did haul human excrement for a living.

He stood with his cell phone poised in his hand. It was a Saturday morning. Would anyone even answer? And if someone was available to come out, how much would a weekend call cost? He groaned slightly as he punched the digits on the keypad and swung it to his ear. This was a septic tank, not a dental cleaning. Waiting wasn't an option.

"Yo, this is Sean," came an almost immediate answer. Josh blinked. Was this his cell? "Hello?" Sean repeated.

"Hey, Sean--" he fumbled. "It's Josh Arnette. You were just here last night? At my home? To pump my septic tank?" What the fuck was the matter with him? Were his hands actually trembling?

"Yeah, I remember."

There was a pause before Josh realized he was stupidly waiting for more. Like what else was the guy supposed to say? 'Oh, yeah--the one with all the cum?' He shook himself.

"Yeah, right. Well, see I woke up this morning and the alarm was going off again."

"Okay--I can be there in twenty. See you then."

The line went dead. Josh blinked. That was it? He hadn't even needed to ask if someone would be able to stop by. His hand was still frozen midair in the gesture that was supposed to accompany the question he hadn't had a chance to ask.

He had barely downed a Red Bull and wrestled on a fresh pair of jeans and clean t-shirt before reflected washes of sunlight raking across his bedroom wall signaled movement in the driveway. He peered through the slats of the blinds to see a spotless gray F250 glide soundlessly up to the house, chrome winking in the morning light.

If the thought that this was not a typical septic service call had first entered Josh's mind then, it was confirmed when he opened the front door to find Sean standing on the porch in a black polo with straining sleeves, jeans, and the hottest red Pumas he had ever seen. He swallowed hard as Sean tipped his aviators up on his neatly pulled-back mane.

"So, still having some trouble, huh?" Sean began. His tone was neutral--not as jovial as it had been at their meeting yesterday, but Josh wasn't really in a place to judge the level of chipperness of the shit tank guy.

"Yeah. So, everything was fine after you left. I had a shower--just a regular shower. And ran the dishwasher." Perfectly said. It took everything in him not to visibly cringe at his qualifying just what type of shower he had taken.

If Sean noticed the statement, he didn't register it on his face. "Well, let's have a look at that alarm." Josh moved aside and Sean stepped past him into the living room, a faint musky scent following behind. Christ, I doubt he smelled like that yesterday, Josh mused as he shut the door. As he led the way to the basement steps, Sean paused to survey the pristine living room, which now sported little more than the sagging sofa, 50-year-old Ethan Allen coffee table, and the stacked TVs. "You seem pretty clean. And minimalistic." Said no one of Josh, ever.

In the basement, Sean briefly examined the gray box capped with the angry red light.

"Yep," he softly murmured to himself as he unlatched the box to expose the wires and switches within. He flicked the switches down and the light extinguished. He paused, looked at Josh, who returned a curious gaze, then after a moment he returned the switches to the up position. The light stayed off. Sean's lips quirked in a small grin. "That should do it," he announced with a tone of finality.

"What--that was it?" Josh demanded disbelievingly.

Sean shrugged as he slammed the door closed on the alarm box. "Sometimes the pressure in the tank gets a little off after a cleaning and it throws the switch out of whack. Just needed a reset. I doubt it will happen again."

Josh furrowed his brow. "Great. But, I mean--if that's all you thought it was, couldn't you have just told me that on the phone? Save yourself the trip?"

Sean placed a red Puma on a battered kitchen chair and seemed to study it. "Yep. I could have," he said without looking up. Josh followed his gaze to his foot. It was the same one that just yesterday had been housed in a worn boot that sported the fetid remains of his cum from god only knew which ejaculation.

"Oh," Josh managed feebly after a moment. "Well...I appreciate your coming back out. Especially on a Saturday. What do I owe you?" he pivoted and crunched a few steps toward the stairs before he realized that Sean wasn't following. He paused and turned back. Sean was looking at him now.

"How about a demonstration?" he finally said.

Josh felt his eyebrows knit with confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Sean removed his foot from the chair and slowly approached. "At the door," he said, drawing up to Josh and crossing his arms over his chest, "you said you had taken a--what was it? A 'regular shower' last night." This close, Josh became acutely aware of the few inches Sean had on him, as well as the girth of those arms. "Tell me, Joshua: what other kind of shower do you take, exactly?" Though his tone was light--inquisitive--the question thudded in Josh's chest, a ball whispering down the lane and slamming mercilessly into pins.

This was going to be a defining moment, Josh knew. And like most defining moments, it was happening in an equally dramatic location: in the dankness of his grandmother's basement, next to a stolen U-Haul dolly and with a cobweb tickling his ear. So...which Josh was going to answer--the loser that let everything slide down the drain, or the one he desperately wanted to be: the one with a scintilla of gumption?

He squared his shoulders and cocked his head, trying to appear relaxed. "That would be the kind of shower that clogs your crust buster, Sean. Why do you ask?" He had managed to keep his tone nonchalant. Barely.

Sean arched a brow at him. "Because I've been dying to know what you've got going on that you could fill a hole in your backyard with that much juice. You got four balls or something?"

Josh shrugged. "Just a vivid imagination is all."

"What exactly do you imagine?"

Josh was beginning to breathe heavily. "Well," he began, taking a step back, "it always starts with a man."

Sean calmly removed his sunglasses from his head and folded the temples, placing them gently on a rusty chest freezer. He looked pensive. "What else?"

Josh took another step back. "I lay at his feet."

Sean took a step toward Josh, a crinkle forming between his eyes as he considered this. "Why do you to that?"

"To--to be crushed beneath him," Josh managed, tamping down the watery doubt that he could feel welling up now that rock hard possibility was closing in. He had been inching his way back until his legs found the front edge of a battered futon.

Sean gave his head a half turn. "Sounds painful." With nowhere left to go, Josh sank into the moldy sofa. Sean put a foot up between his legs, the red suede Puma sinking into the cushion.

"It's never painful the way I imagine it," he confessed softly. His jeans were tenting with an erection that was eager to test the reality.

Sean smiled. "With the amount of cum I pumped yesterday, I imagine it's a lot more about pleasure." The gleaming white sole of his sneaker squealed lightly with anticipation as he leaned in. "I'd love to see how you do it, if you wouldn't mind."

Josh heaved a shaky sigh as he unbuttoned his jeans. His damp boxers pushed through like a mushroom heaving through the forest floor. His head fell back on the futon in a musty cloud and he stared into the floor joists above as Sean brought his shoe down on him. Josh felt the toe of the Puma press just beneath the glans. Clear drops of his excitement blossomed through the silky shorts and stuck to the shoe, connecting the two men in fragile, glassy threads. "Oh, Jesus," he whispered.

"It's Sean," Sean corrected with a lopsided grin. "Am I doing this right?" He slid the Puma up further, the diamond patterned tread teasing the shaft through the material until his heel was flat against his balls. He squeezed them. Josh gasped as pain danced with pleasure. Sean observed with interest. "I want to be sure I get to see a big finale."

"I don't think you'll be disappointed," Josh groaned at the ceiling as Sean alternated between dragging his foot down and thrusting it up the underside of his cock.

"So this man--the one you imagine...does he ever do this?" Sean queried as he placed the flat of his sole against the tip of Josh's head and pivoted his foot in small circles. The boxers twisted and slid slickly under him. Josh writhed at the sensation.

"Oh my god. Not like that, he doesn't," he admitted, a chuckle burbling up. He felt the shoe pause its gentle torture and the warmth of Sean's fingertips as they slid around the loosened waistband of his jeans and underwear. With a vicious tug, Josh was exposed down to his knees. He sat up with a start and looked at Sean, so seemed to be studying him in mild fascination.

"Only two balls," he observed. He smiled as his lifted his foot and placed it back on Josh's bare cock. "I guess that's not the secret behind your secretions." Josh rolled his eyes and giggled as Sean began to slide the sole of his Puma through the pre-cum that dribbled down the shaft. Soon, the shoe was working against him harder. Josh's head fell back against the futon.

But the beautiful synchronicity of pain and pleasure began to falter as pain artlessly, perversely took center stage. Josh started to feel the tread of Sean's Puma rubbing him raw. His moans turned to whimpers, and he eventually clasped his hands around the shoe and brought its movement to a halt. Sean pulled away.

"Reality's a bitch, isn't she?" he finally offered. Josh panted, his red erection still throbbing valiantly in spite of his collapsing hope. Sean looked sympathetic. "I guess some things are better left to imagination guy, huh?"

Josh wiped his hands across his eyes. "Thanks for trying, man. Wish I could have held up my end of the deal."

Sean sank to a crouch in front of the futon. "Oh, no. This isn't over. I came for a demonstration. And a demonstration I will get." Josh raised his eyebrows in question. Sean grasped the head of the penis and extracted a few drops between his thumb and middle finger. He rubbed them together until his fingertips glistened. "As a septic professional," he went on "the most common mistake I see is that people undervalue or even completely ignore what's in their own backyard. It might not be pretty, but it's pretty fucking important." He slid his anointed hand under Josh's balls, his heel palm squeezing them against him as his middle finger slid back to his perineum.

Josh gulped for air as the gentle probe coursed through him. His eyes widened as Sean's finger glided on his own juices into his anus. Sean was leaning over him like an obstetrician trying to coax a climax into the world, his powerful arm now pushing against the underside of Josh's rod as he foraged deeper. He smiled wickedly at Josh's response. "You've been neglecting what's in your backyard, too. Haven't you?"

Josh had never experienced the sensation before. It was like discovering a new flavor. A new musical note. A new color. As Sean expertly pulsed his finger inside him, his thick arm slid up and down across his aching glans. "Oh sweet Mother of God," Josh rasped, his head bobbing on the back of the futon in an echo of Sean's movements. "How are you doing that?"

"I told you. I'm a backyard professional. It's my job to get it all pumped out." Josh could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice even though he couldn't see it, for his eyes were rolling back. Sean worked faster, pressed harder. It was as though an immense charge was building between two electrical poles. Josh could feel the inevitable crackle begin to arc between them--a release of so much potential energy that there was no predicting just how devastatingly it would strike.

He drew a ragged breath, but could only manage a whisper. "I'm going to c--"

Josh didn't finish before the lightning unfurled. Pearlescent streaks began to dash up Sean's arm. As Sean pulled away, more creamy bolts raced across his black polo and over his shoulder, quietly slapping the dusty basement floor. By the time the ninth and final strike had settled across Sean's left Puma, he was standing in stunned silence. Josh brought himself up on his elbows, the last of the aftershocks heaving in his abdomen. His cock bobbed as if nodding humbly to a mystified audience.

"Holy fuck," Sean finally murmured. His own jeans were bulging at the crotch, and Josh guessed they probably had been for a while considering the dark stain they sported. Sean surveyed the ropes of semen that draped across him like wilting crepe streamers. "That sure as hell didn't disappoint."

Josh's lips quirked into a grin. "It's called hyperspermia. Means I produce more than most."

"No shit."

"I was diagnosed years ago. My grandmother made me get checked because I had wet dreams, well...pretty much every night." Josh felt a little sheepish, but Sean returned his gaze with an expression was of admiration.

"That explains a lot." He adjusted his jeans. "And if you don't mind my saying, it's got my engine a little revved."

Josh slid to the edge of the futon. "Let me help with that," he offered. Sean stepped back, his right shoe sliding through a bead of cooling semen on the floor.

"No. No, I got it."

Josh stood, pulling his sticky boxers and jeans back in place. "No you don't," he said dismissively. He reached for Sean's belt buckle. Sean stiffened and reached for his hand.

"It's different for me, man," he said softly. I'm engaged. To a woman."

Josh cocked his head innocently. "I thought you were a professional. When the system needs to be pumped, it can't wait, right?" The corners of Sean's mouth twitched.

"I mean, it can create a fuck ton of problems if you do," he agreed, releasing Josh's hand and letting him ease his belt through the buckle. His jeans seemed to sigh with relief as Josh unbuttoned them. He shook his head. "I don't know about this." Josh parted the slot in his briefs as though opening the curtains to view the sunrise. As his erection sprang free, he took it in his his mouth.

"Christ almighty," Sean groaned, casting his eyes toward the flickering fluorescent light buzzing incessantly above. "What are doing?" He laced his thick fingers through Josh's unruly mop. Josh pulled back, a loud slurp issuing as the sticky connection between them broke.

"No fucking clue," Josh admitted, hooking his fingers through Sean's belt loops. "But how hard can it be?" He resumed. Sean looked down at him and chuckled.

"It's pretty fucking rock hard," he muttered. "Oh god, I shouldn't be doing this!"

Josh felt somehow emboldened by the lamentation, and he redoubled his efforts, sliding back and forth feverishly on Sean's thick manhood. Sean began to sway his hips to the rhythm, the white heels of his red suede Puma's rising and and falling on the cellar floor--an echo from his time behind the aerator just the evening before. "I shouldn't be doing this!" he cried more urgently.

Josh was utterly lost to the rhythm and the tang of Sean's earthy taste. He was suddenly ripped from his trance when Sean yanked on his scalp and shouted, "No! Stop!" Josh reeled back and stared in surprise as Sean seemed to teeter slightly where he stood, eyes closed and forehead dimpled in an almost meditative state. His purple cock quivered rhythmically as though from unseen clockworks. After six seconds of utter silence, Sean issued a low grunt and a single pale surge hurled from him and sailed over the back of the futon. Josh smiled with glossy lips. Sean collapsed backward onto the battered kitchen chair.

"Holy fuck," he gasped. The streak of Josh's drying semen on his polo rose and fell with his ragged breath. His once tight bun now flopped to the side like a foundering ship. "Was that your first time doing that?"

Josh thought a moment. "Only in reality."

They both erupted in laughter.

***

Josh was copying his hours from the shift schedule in the stockroom when the back door squawked open and Gavin walked in. Josh's eyes automatically flitted to his feet. It was out of habit, but he was surprised to see that the jet black Ultraboost didn't crank him like they normal would have.

"Hey," he called over his shoulder as Gavin unceremoniously dropped his bag to the floor by the file cabinets.

"Howdy, brother. How might we be today?"

"Pretty alright." Josh felt Gavin come up behind him and look over his shoulder at the calendar.

"Did you get the septic thing taken care of? Did Sean come?"

Josh smiled, but didn't look up from his paper as he scribbled out the last sequence of dates and times. "Oh, yeah. He came. Got me all squared away, too." He clicked the pen and offered it to Gavin. "Thanks for calling him for me. I have him in my phone now."

Gavin plucked up a piece of paper and placed it on the wall next to the calendar, poised to copy his shifts. "Is that right? Is he going to have to come back?"

"Oh I plan on having him come back every three years. Like clockwork," he added lightly.

Gavin grinned at Josh over his shoulder. "Sounds like you're becoming quite domesticated."

"Actually, you have no idea. I did a ton of cleaning out this weekend." He leaned against the break room fridge. "Was wondering if you wanted to possibly move in. Gavin stopped writing and turned to face him. "You know. Be roommates?"

"Well, shit." Gavin broke into a grin. "What brought this on?"

Josh shrugged. "You're starting your new job. And you've been dying to get out from under your folks. I've got a house that's going to need a lot of work...just seems to make sense." He frowned. "You think it's a bad idea?"

Gavin crossed the back room and clapped his hand on Josh's shoulder. "Fuck no. I think it's an awesome idea."

"Alright then," Josh said with a nod. That was that. "I'm going to start opening up." He headed for the door that opened behind the register counter.

"Be right there. Just need to finish copying hours." Gavin walked back over to the calendar. As Josh leaned against the swing door, he paused to notice how long and slender Gavin's fingers were as he wrapped them around the pen. They splayed out from a broad palm and a strong wrist. Josh felt a new twinge in his center. A tiny pilot light igniting and just waiting to be fueled.

He quirked a small smile, turned, and pushed through the door.