tagGay MaleThe Vacation House Ch. 07

The Vacation House Ch. 07


I am so exhausted that I can hardly believe it. Yeah, things are starting to settle down here in Vermont, I'm getting on well with Mr. Townsend at the job site. I'm working half days, riding in with dad, then I take a bus when I am off work, head to this ice rink located near our new home. Some great new friends here, getting on really well with this guy Tag who is a born and breed Vermonter. H pretty much knows everyone that has ever skated in the area. He's super cool, way more of a hot wire personality than I ever have been. We are becoming sort of a Lone Ranger and Tonto team, he's got my back and I've got his.

Tag has been with the same girl since he was in grade school. Melanie is damned gorgeous and nice as anyone I have ever met, she does not push at me that I am not actively dating or even really trying. For that matter, neither does Tag, it's what's making me feel more comfortable with them than any of my friends from Rhode Island.

I'm sitting in dad's pick up, waiting for him to come out and get us to the job site. The sun has not burned through the night sky yet, just a bit of dark orange off on the horizon. This is the time we leave every day for work, now that it's early August it is pretty warm even at this ungodly hour. I hear the garage door close, then the driver's door opens up. Dad scoots himself in and tosses my hockey bag across the bench seat at me.

"Damn Robbie, don't you ever wash this stuff? Smells like something died in there. I told you to get some cedar chip shavings and put them in your bag. Trust me, it will keep that rot bag from gagging me every time I go into the garage. And, next time don't forget your stuff, it is your responsibility, not mine to make sure you've got your things. You're the one who wants to skate, I'm working so much that I barely have the time to read the newspaper at night before I crash."

I feel badly to be so forgetful, if it were not for him watching out for me I would be up shit's creek without a hockey stick. Crap, I have to get things together cause it is going to be even worse once I start Uni in a month.

Dad has agreed that once I go back to school, he will drop me off every morning on his way to work. That way he won't have to figure out a way to pay for me to live near campus in New Hampshire. It's not really that far anyway, I can always sleep on the way there, then take a local bus back to his site so we can ride back home together.

Things are going to work out well for both of us financially this way too. I can put the money I make into an account for working a few afternoons after classes and on Saturdays. Mr. Townsend has been really cool about allowing me to have a real flexible schedule. This is gonna allow me to try out for the travel team with the University and still have a job waiting when ever I don't have to be at scrimmages or practice.

The truck heads down the familiar lonely pine tree lined roads, they lead to the bridge we take in Bellows Falls to get over to New Hampshire. After a quick stop at the local doughnut shop, we're back on the road. I open the bag that dad brought breakfast in, pull back the tabs on both our coffee cups. Places them into the cup holder between us, I toss a napkin onto dad's lap. He pulls out a glazed doughnut, pushes it into his open mouth.

The sun is starting to break through the dark sky, there are a few more cars on the road. We pass a familiar figure of a woman on horseback, she is there every morning and we are in about the same place every time we pass her. Dad is a stickler for being on time, very rarely deviates from his schedule, I get that from him too. I actually get kinda anxious when I think I might be late for something, tend to be right on time whether coming or going. Creatures of habit, yep that's what we are.

We pull into the job site, the truck rocks from side to side as we drive over the pot hole riddled dirt entrance. Rising before us are the skeletons of several multi story houses to be. There are supposed to be a total of 45 duplex's built on this large plot of land. The pines have been carved out, create a boarder around the what will ultimately become a small community of identical white clapboard sided, black shuttered homes. Right now, there are only 2 partially completed structures, another 6 are just studs and foundations. Yellow flags mark where future foundations are to be dug and poured but for now, we keep busy with the few that are ultimately going to become the show houses for the complex.

The pick-up pulls up along side a large stack of 2 X 4's. This is going to be my job for the day, I'll be buggy lugging them, creating stacks in front of each of the partially framed structures. Dad reaches over, rubs his rough right paw through my short cropped hair.

"Don't kill yourself today kiddo, I'm going to need your back this weekend at the house. Mr. Townsend has agreed to come and stay over on Saturday so we can dig a new well for the house, hopefully find some clean water once and for all."

I turn toward him, my smile could not have been broader, I really can't stand that rusty, smelly water that we have coming out of the pipes right now. Even the filtration system is sorta ineffective to the rusty water. It would be fantastic to walk out of a shower and not feel as if your skin has a rough film on it. The bottled water that we get from Poland Springs is great but I'm sure that it's costing dad an arm and a leg money he just doesn't have right now.

Dad has done with the barest of essentials for himself. He's even given up his weekend beer to try and save money. Our morning donuts and coffee are just about the only splurge that he allows for himself. Me on the other hand, he makes sure that I have ice time and the hockey gear that I need. He also makes sure that my sister has everything she needs back in Rhode Island. Mom is holding up her end really well, she got a big raise with her new position at the hospital.

Summer heat is in full blast, humid, hot, not a great combination for having to lug lumber around in. I notice a beautiful brand new Ram 3500 pull up near the first building where dad is completing some finishing touches on the trim and crown molding. I recognize Mr. Trattorella, dad's previous boss from Rhode Island getting out and walking over to the trailer office that Mr. Townsend uses and lives while on site. He is not about to leave this place alone at night, so he figures he will play contractor and security guard, save money in the long run.

The trailer really is nice, it has a full kitchen, living room area with granite counter tops, real wood cabinets and a full shower in the bathroom. At the rear of the trailer, there is Mr. Townsend's bedroom. He has a king sized bed in there and a flat screen T.V. There is a large air conditioning unit and generator on the roof water hook up makes it a real home away from home. On more than one occasion, Mr. Townsend said that the trailer is actually more comfortable, easier to take care of than his house. He's divorced from his 3rd wife and lives alone in a large contemporary on the side of one of the hills in New Hampshire. He showed us pictures of it on his laptop, it's huge but must be pretty lonely up there in the hinterlands all by himself.

I continue to lug the 2 X 4's to their respective buildings. They are pr-cut in length. have numbers painted on them to show where they go and in what order. The buildings are partially pr-fabbed but still require skilled construction, someone like my dad to finalize the detail work that makes this complex higher quality and ultimately a more desirable place for young families to live in.

Mr. Townsend and Mr Trattorella walk over to his truck. I see that my dad's pick up is being pulled up directly behind the new Ram 3500. Two of the younger site workers are unloading boxes and furniture from Mr. Trattorella's truck and loading it all into our older pick up.

Dad's truck is finally loaded to the gills, Mr. Trattorella is back in his truck and pulling out of the site's driveway. I look down at my watch, see that it is just past noon. I'm sure dad is already getting out his lunch from the small cooler chest, waiting for me to join him. I arrive, sure enough, two sandwiches, two bottles of cold water and an two oranges are laid out on a makeshift table. Two saw horses with a remnant of particle board make due. Two overturned buckets that once contained large amounts of spackling powder serve as stools. Nothing goes to waist on the site, I am more than happy just to relax out of the sun and excessive heat. A tall fan on a 5' stand blows air toward us.

I sit down on my bucket, see our boss, Mr. Townsend come into the room with a bag in hand, a bucket of his own in the other. He places it upside down, sits at the opposite end of the homemade table from dad. I'm sitting in between them, feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. Mr. Townsend has never come and shared lunch with us in the 3 weeks that we have been working for him. I pray that I have not done anything to embarrass dad, or worse get us both fired! Waits for either dad or Mr. Townsend to make the first move. I don't dare touch my food without them digging in first.

Mr. Townsend is a very impressive, foreboding figure. He stands a very solid 6'6", has shiny, tight dark brown skin over very defined muscles. A goatee is the only hair that one see's on him, even with his shirt off, which he is often found to be when working. He is pretty shredded, muscular form has not disappeared from his days as a pro athlete. It's obvious he takes great care in his appearance. His smoothly shaved bald head is perfectly groomed. Fingernails clipped close and clean, something that is a wonder for someone in the construction business. It is not due to the lack of working with his hands, he is as hands on as any of his employees. It is apparent that he just takes grooming seriously.


Mr. Townsend breaks the silence with the nick name for my dad.

"I've had all of your things from Rhode Island put into your truck, everything is packed in like sardines in a can. Even the front cab is pretty much filled to the top. Just enough room for you to sit, I doubt there is going to be enough room in there for you to breath in too deeply."

A laugh comes from Mr. Townsend, it is deep, very hearty. Dad shakes his head in an up and down motion in acknowledgement.

"Look, R.J., since I am supposed to come and get a new well excavated for your house this weekend, I am going to make you an offer, that is if Robbie here is O.K. with it, you too of course."

Dad looks over at me with a puzzled look on his face, turns back toward our boss.

"Whatcha got in mind Lee? If the truck is that full maybe I should have Robbie drive it back, I can camp out here in this show house, it's almost done and I can make due for the night. I don't need much more than my toothbrush in the morning, that and make sure the truck comes back in one piece."

My mouth drops open wide, I can't believe he just said that! One piece, I'm a great driver, why would he say that? I feels a bit of reddening to the tips of my ears and the rounds of my cheeks.

"No, that's not necessary R.J., tell me what you think about this; since I',m going to stay in your spare room Saturday night and today is Friday, why don't you drive the truck back, Robbie can catch a ride with me on my Harley. I can bring him home this afternoon, you can lock things up at closing time, make sure that everything is buttoned down for the night. I would then stay with you guys for the weekend, I'll even take you both for dinner after we unload the truck tonight, that is if it is O.K. with the two of you."

Dad smiles. turns to me.

"Is this something that you can deal with Robbie? I know you were planning on skating later this afternoon but if you think you can see your way on this one time, I'd really appreciate it."

Appreciate it? Heck, I owe him big time, dad has been doing and doing, this is the first thing he has asked of me since he and mom split. Shit, I'd even get to ride on that huge Harley. It's a fantastic machine, I have stared at it on more than one occasion just imagining what it would feel like to ride that monster with a motor.

"Hell yeah, oops, sorry, I did not mean to swear, I mean absolutely fine with me dad, Mr. Townsend."

Dad and Mr. Townsend laugh at my gaff and slip of the tongue.

"It's all-right Robbie, working with these guys here, I have heard worse, said much worse myself too."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I settle into my lunch, scarf down my sandwich, drink all of the water before it gets warm. The fruit is gone in a blink of an eye. Mr. Townsend looks at me, wipes his mouth with his paper napkin.

"Robbie, this is what I am going to suggest, I'm going to have one or two of the workers stay in my trailer over the weekend, you and I will head to your house in about an hour or so, your Dad can drive back after closing up at 5pm. This way, the three of us can unload all of your stuff, put your bedroom sets back together, put away what else is left over. Then we can go get a good dinner at the steak house. Your dad is going to have to work for me in the morning, this way, you and I can excavate all day if need be. then by Sunday, we can make sure that everything is working well, if not, we have another day to give it another shot before Monday comes. We have the roofers coming in Monday. both your dad and I have to be here. I was hoping that you would be able to work at least a half day too, is this do-able?"

"Yeah, sounds great to me. I have to tell you, I've always wanted to ride that Harley of yours, I actually get a chance to now. I would have paid you to let me ride it and here I get to ride it and get a steak dinner out too. I'd have to be out of my mind to say anything other than yes."

Dad stands, picks up the napkins and remnants of our lunch, places them into a trash bag sitting in the corner of the room.

"Let's get back to work Robbie, I'll come and get you when it is time for you to go with Mr. Townsend.. And Robbie, thank you, I really do appreciate this."

It was the quickest hour of my life. I had become invigorated, must have moved a good 25 percent more lumber than I normally would have. Excitement builds, I can barely contain myself. Dad taps me on the shoulder, puts his arm around me, gives me a tight hug.

"You be safe, hear me? I want you to wear the helmet that Mr. Townsend loans you. You do as he says, if there is any problem or if you need anything, just call me on your cell. I will be back as soon as I can but I am going to have to take it a bit slower than normal. I saw that the truck is really loaded down, I don't want anything shifting and getting damaged. Just do as you are told, I know you will be fine though, you're a great guy, you know that Robbie? I am very proud of you, now get going.. I'll see you when I see you."

Dad turns, walks back to the show house and disappears into the front entrance. I walk over to Mr. Townsend's trailer, finds he is already waiting for me. A black shiny helmet in one hand, a small ruck sack in his other.

"First, put this on Robbie, no one rides with me without a helmet. Can you put my ruck on since you are going to be behind me, there won't be room for you, me and the back-pack between us? The saddles are filled with the tools we are going to be needing, I don't have any other room for my change of cloths and personals."

I take the ruck-sack from Mr. Townsend's outstretched hand and place the helmet on. I'm very familiar with wearing a helmet, having played hockey my entire life. I had no intention of putting up a fuss but I figure that most people balk at having to wear one if they are not used to them.

"By the way, call me Lee when we are not here on the job.."

I look at Mr. Townsend and smile.

"O.K. Lee."

"Watch it, we have not left the site yet!"

A scowl crosses his face.

"Just kidding."

Lee throws one of his long muscular legs over the tufted leather two tier seat on the Harley. Motions for me to do the same, points to the slightly raised seat behind his big haunches. I climb on, Lee presses a small button, the Harley comes to life. The vibration between my legs is a completely new and exciting sensation. I mean this feels like power, real power. Like straddling a rocket, ready to blast off, head off into outer-space.

A small twist of his wrist, the engine roars, the deep throaty growl of the Harley lets us know that it is ready to be ridden. Lee reaches back, takes hold of my hand, pulls it around his waist. I feel the leather of his way too cool Harley labeled jacket under my fingertips. He turns his head, I barely hear him yelling for me to hold on with both of my arms around him, this is gonna be a ride that I will never forget.

I am wrap both of my long arms around his muscular torso, barely able touch my fingers to each other. He pats my hands, nods to me, kicks the stand up, a few more revs of the beast. I feel the earth moving underneath us, freedom, the rush of wind against my body. My hands feel the whoosh of air that comes across the front of the bike, forcing my hands against Lee's stomach, holds on for dear life. I'm desperately scared shit-less. I mean scared like I have never been scared before.

Lee looks over his should, gives me a quick nod. I really wish he would not do that while we are moving at this speed. I don't want him to miss something coming our way. If we loose control, there is nothing between us and death other than asphalt. I lower my head forward, places the face mask of my helmet against the winged Harley emblem stitched into Lee's leather jacket. I begin to relax but still hold on as if my life depends on it.

We speed off, the air seems to become cool, almost cold. It is such a rush, how can it be so hot out yet feel so cool at the same time.


Something splatters on the right side of my face shield, realizes that it is was a bug. I never thought about the face mask and helmet are now the windshield.


Another one bites the dust.

We cross the bridge in Bellows Falls, looks around at the surrounding buildings. I've never noticed them in the way they appear from the Harley. I feel the power of the engine rumble beneath and between my legs, I get a feeling of arousal in my crotch. Acutely aware of where my hands are, they slip down the front of Mr. Townsend as he has leans forward and accelerates. I lean forward into him, feel that my hands are on the front of his faded jeans. The hardness under my hands is what I think it is, I am sure of it, I nearly panic, decides that if I try to move, I am going to have to release them due to the angle that Lee is leaning into the wind.

My damned penis begins to get stiff. SHIT! NOT NOW, NOT NOW, PLEASE, NOT NOW! I scream inside my own head. Making matters worse, Lee is arching forward at a greater angle, I have to lean into his back even harder. His massive glutes are turned slightly up, forcing them back into my crotch. There is just no way that he doesn't notice that he has a boner pushing against his butt. What else could it be?

I try to think of something, anything to tell him once we get to the house, just in case he says something about it. He might be so pissed off that he might thump me right in the face with one of those sledge hammer sized hands of his. My hands are holding firm, tight to a giant monster, not the Harley but a dick the size of a grown man's forearm. His jeans just had to be as tight as Tupperware, didn't they? Now what?

The Harley rounds the corner, heads up the open road and the hill that leads to where our driveway leads to what was the vacation house, now home. The gravel drive causes the bike to become a little jerky as we come to a rocky stop, right in front of the first door of the two garage.

Report Story

by1Puck1© 1 comments/ 55052 views/ 17 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

2 Pages:12

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: