The Lawyer and the Carpenter

The sun is at 5 30 o'clock. On the vacant lot a crew of carpenters is erecting what will become a two story house. Its' sides are standing and the roof is framed. Trucks owned by workers or the firm are parked at the curb or on the lot. Here and there are stacks of lumber. A sawhorse stands amid those stacks. A portable restroom stands near the curb.

Having said "see you tomorrow" to coworkers, I got into my Dodge Ram and set out for home, a 3-story brick apartment complex.

At 20, I've been working for the contractor since I graduated high school, and I'm bored with the job. Thoughts of starting college for architecture will become a reality in the fall, a month away. It would sure beat banging nails.

I came inside to find my roommate 35 year old Keith Barry watching the stove top. A pot of hearty chicken soup is cooking over a low flame. I approached him and planted a light kiss on his mouth which he happily returned.

We had met at the Boston Pride parade the previous summer. The hunk was wearing only rainbow trunks with sandals, his brawny frame holding my gaze.

Ours is a private relationship. Those who have seen us together might take him for just a friend or perhaps a brother, his youthful looks and absence of PDA giving that impression.

"How was work?"


"It's going well. It won't be long before the house is ready to be wired."

The only gay dude on the crew, I pretend to be attracted to the occasional girl walking past the job sight. Any remarks I've made are just pure bullshit intended to hide my sexually.

A lawyer specializing in contract law, Keith encourages me to start college, to plan my future. He would, he had told me, "pay the bills." The kind offer made the bond stronger.

Since taking the apartment together, we indulge in sex usually two nights a week, Friday night and Saturday. On the other hand, it's a rare day that we don't make out at least for a few minutes.

I had been home for about a half hour when Keith shut the flame under the soup. We sat down to an unhurried meal at the dining table. Meanwhile, we engaged in an interesting conversation about movies and musicals.

"I'll bet there are more gay actors and actresses than straight ones in movies and TV."

Keith silently acknowledged my observation. After a second he gave a reply.

"It was the same way during Hollywoods' golden era. They just couldn't be out."

In the very early days of our relationship I had confided in him that "I love to masturbate."

The feel of my hard erect dick in my sliding hand and the white cum squirting from the pink head are turn-ons. He delights in watching me jerk off. Watching porn together is another turn-on.

The pond about two miles away is a spot where people love to walk, some with their dog. A few benches along the route provide rest stops although we've never seen anyone sitting. Additional trails depart form the main trail, those cutting through the woods.

We came to the pond for a late afternoon leisurely walk. Though we walked side by side, we left room between us for a third person. Space didn't keep me from imagining having sex with him.

The black Toyota Lexus came into view. The shadows had lengthened. Several cars had gone leaving gaps between those that remained at the curb.

We set out for home. It would be a slow ride in heavy traffic.

"What's on your mind dude?"

I replied with a question. "Why do you think there's something on my mind?"

"That thousand yard stare."

"OH, ok," I replied.

The urge to masturbate was growing stronger though for the time being I could stifle it. He has seen me naked many times in the past year.

We came into the living room. He settled into the sofa, a brown leather piece, and aimed the remote at the wall- mounted 50-inch Samsung TV.

The urge to jerk off had become irresistible so I went to the bedroom. Barely a minute later I returned to the livingroom naked and settled into the recliner.

A loose grip gave me the hard-on that I wanted. I tightened my grip on the shaft. Keith turned his attention away from his TV show and watched me sliding my hand rapidly in both directions along the shaft. I could see him in my side vision rubbing himself through his cutoffs.

A few minutes elapsed then cum squirted from my dick. Seconds later it squirted again. I kept my hand in motion making sure that my entire load is drained.

Convinced that I had emptied my balls, I let go of my dick and rested my hand near it.

"That felt so good."

"I'm glad you like jerking it."

"You know I do."

While we were making those remarks I ran a finger though the cum streaks near my navel and on my pelvis.

"Steven that is so hot."

"Before we met I used to masturbate twice a day."

"Really," he replied.

"Semen is expendable and shooting it out is fun."

My dick had gone limp.

Keith patted the sofa cushion as though calling me to sit beside him. I did so.

A look into each others' eyes gave way to making out. I raised the hem of his shirt slowly to his collarbone. He removed it and tossed it forward. My limp dick again became a hard-on so Keith fondled me.

"Are you going to get naked or what?"

"No, I would rather watch you masturbate."

I did not reply, choosing instead to stare at him.

Several seconds passed in silence then I gave in to his will.

This time I employed the other hand.

A few minutes later new squirts of cum replaced the streaks from my earlier action.

"I love watching you ejaculate."

I took his jeans and shorts to mid thigh then settled onto his lap. As I bobbed letting him penetrate me my own cock flip flopped. I took it in a tight grip arresting its' motion. Before long I began jerking it.