Leaf Raking Plus

When he was in and pumping, he released my legs and I wrapped them around his lower back and moved my hands to digging my nails into his shoulder blades, humming, and putting my hips into motion with the rhythm of the fuck. He was right; it was just like getting back onto a bicycle after a long time off. I knew how to become one, melded fucking machine with a guy. I worked my cock with my hand and came a good ten minutes before he stiffened, grunted, and shot his load. And then another one and another one. On top of everything else, he was virile.

He had barebacked me. Neither of us had thought of taking the time to sheath up, although I saw that there were a couple of packets of condoms and a tube of lube beside his beer can on the side table of the sofa he'd been sitting in.

He remained hovering over me, inside me, until he'd gone flaccid. And then he pulled out, stood, laughed, and said, "Our beers surely have gone flat. I'll get us another one."

I was standing by the table when he came back, too sweaty and with cum from both of us dribbling down my thighs. I didn't want to sit in his nice furniture and get it soiled.

"That was nice; nicer than I thought it would be," he said, as we stood close together, lifting fresh beers with one hand and fondling each other with the other hand. He frotted our cocks together. I was no slouch in that department, but his cock dwarfed mine. "After the beers, I want to take you upstairs and work you over."

"OK," I said.

He did. It was some sort of workout room he took me to, though, not his bedroom, and he worked me over for two hours on a wrestling mat beside a full-mirrored wall. The ceiling over the mat was mirrored too, and we both obviously enjoyed watching two beautiful bodies sexing each other from various angles while we fucked. He took me in a doggy and a side split, and, the third time, I rode him in a reverse cowboy, leaning back over him with my hands palming his bulging pecs and my channel rising and fallen on his thick shaft. He complimented me on my flexibility, and I reveled in his approval. This time we were methodical, using the lube and the rubbers. He didn't just look powerful, in shape, and vigorous, he fucked powerfully, in shape, and vigorously. He was a man. His cocking made me feel like I'd only had boys in college. God, how I had missed this.

We ended in a close, stretched out embrace on the mat, our hands moving over each other as if we were reading each other in Braille, our eyes gazing into the mirrors, enjoying what each of us was doing to the other. We both went into heat again, and he rolled over on top of me, coaxed my legs open, and fucked me one last time in a slow, sensual missionary, both of us watching the lovemaking in the mirrors. It wasn't just fucking anymore; it was lovemaking.

He was still on top of me, inside me, when he let me know how well I had performed for him. "I could use a permanent gardener here—someone who could work another job if he liked and keep this yard up as he had time. It would pay well. A lot of it would be indoor work, though. It might be good if he bunked here too."

"It would be a good job for someone," I answered.

"Might you be interested?"

"I'd have to think about it. And I wouldn't want to go behind Tony's back. I don't want to piss him off. And I just don't know. I was making a change. I am trying to be a good family man."

"Yes, think about it. Did your wife know you were bi before you knocked her up?"

"She's not my wife. She's the girl I knocked up and who thinks I'm good enough to lay her and give her babies, but not good enough to be a husband, because . . . like this . . . like now, me lying on my back with some stud's cock inside me. Well, you know. But, yeah, we went with a fast crowd. She knew. She always said I was good to her, but she knew I liked guys better."

"And she'd like nice things—for you to make some good money and bring nice things home to her and your babies in a nicer apartment or house?"

"I know she wants that. And kids. We're trying to have another one. She's wild about being a mother. Not so wild about being a wife."

"I'd be careful. Fucking raw was a big turn on, but we did just fine with rubbers too. Think about it. Best of both worlds. I don't think you were faking it just to get the money."

"No, I wasn't faking it. I'll have to think about it."

* * * *

I didn't go back to Emily's apartment just with a nice Christmas tree, but with lights and decorations for it too—and a frozen game hen we could have for a Christmas meal if she was going to invite me to be there with Edith on her on the day, and a little something wrapped to go under the tree for both of my girls.

"Did you win the lottery or something?" Emily asked when she checked all that I had dragged into the apartment. When she was looking over the Christmas cheer I had brought into the apartment, I could see the tension and worry drain from her and a smile set in along with a twinkle in her eyes I hadn't seen for a while. It set me to thinking. If I went back to the life, I could always turn it off again when—and if—we'd gotten ourselves established as a family.

"Where's Edith?" I asked. "I got her this stuffed bear."

"You'll have to give it to her later. I farmed her out to my mother for the night."

"You . . . oh."

I had Emily bent over the foot of the bed, her belly down, her feet on the floor, and her arms stretched out over the bed, her hands clutching wads of bedspread and opening and closing on the bunched material to the rhythm of my thrusts inside her. I had one hand gripping her hip and the other snaked around her belly and buried in her cunt when I tensed, jerked, released as she cried out; tensed, jerked, released; tensed, jerked . . .

I had the definite sensation that this time we'd done it. A September baby, maybe? A playmate for Edith.

My cellphone buzzed as I pulled out of her and patted her on the rump.

"What's up?" came at me from the other end of the connection.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I said, grinning because I was happy. I really felt like we'd gotten it that time. I was surprised that I was as excited about it as Emily was. Best of both worlds.

"Just calling because Neal Barringer phoned to say he needed a guy to trim some bushes for him. He said he wanted the company 'plus.' He also said he'd like you to do it. So, you interested in going again?"

From where I was standing at the foot of the bed, Emily having dashed to the bathroom, I could see into the living room where we'd put the Christmas tree up, complete with decorations and blinking lights. We'd had a great evening talking about how the future was looking up and about our dreams and aspirations—separate, but, I thought, capable of merging if the opportunity arose. I was happy, and I realized that I was happy today because I hadn't settled for just half a life. Before I'd gone on the Barringer leaf raking plus job, there had been no Christmas tree and if there was going to be one, it would have been one sad sack of a bush. Now it was going to be a great Christmas.

"Sure, Tony. Sounds good," I answered.