Well Built

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Construction site next door provides fantasy material.
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Revised version copyright 2009 by the author.

Committed readers of my stories will notice that this tale is a prequel to two others already posted. A prize to the first person who writes and tells me which ones.

*

It's getting a little hard to remember with all the "For Sale" signs going up on my block, but not too long ago times were good, and people were moving to this city in droves. I bought my own house in this pleasant neighborhood before the boom. Back then, the large lot next door was empty and wooded. It was owned by an elderly man who had hung on to it for decades.

Then a few years ago he died. The property was sold in a flash, and the neighborhood feared the worst. Sure enough we were informed that the lot would be subdivided into four and a house built on each quarter. One would be right up against my property line. There went my peaceful green view and privacy.

Within weeks the bulldozers came and plowed down the greenery, leaving only bare earth and rocks. Then the houses started going up. I resigned myself to not being able to look out my bedroom window at the trees any more, and to the constant construction sounds that started early each morning before I went to work. I half-heartedly checked out the crew when I got up every morning, but the bunch on this project looked sloppy and overweight. They were also noisy and not particularly friendly. I decided that the myth of the hot construction worker was a figment of some Colt photographer's imagination.

Everything changed one Friday a few weeks after building had started. It was after my morning shower. I had dried myself off and put a towel around my waist, gone down to the kitchen and gotten myself a cup of coffee. The hammering and drilling next door was already audible as I sat in the kitchen. I looked at the clock and realized I'd better get dressed and moving. I went back upstairs, but before putting on my clothes, took one peek out my bedroom window.

All thoughts of getting to my job early flew out of my head.

Down on the ground there was a guy I hadn't seen before on the crew, moving boards. He seemed to be in charge, judging from the way he was giving orders to the other men. He wore jeans that fit him like a glove and tan work boots. His checked work shirt had two or three buttons undone, revealing a muscled, hairy chest. He had dark blond hair under his hardhat, a mustache and the beginnings of a beard, or maybe he hadn't shaved that morning. His face captivated me-it was classic, with a strong nose and square jaw, and eyes that even at this distance I could see were a vivid, almost steely blue.

I checked him out for all I was worth. When I realized that my cock was tenting the front of my towel I finally moved away from the window. It was sheer luck that nobody had looked up and seen my show.

That day at work and all weekend I was in a fever of anticipation. I daydreamed about the new man's sinewy, tanned forearms, the broad V-shape of his back, and the substantial bulge between his long legs.

Monday morning dawned bright and sunny. The day promised to be a scorcher. I took my shower and went down to the kitchen for breakfast. I was reading the morning paper when I heard the usual hammering next door.

I had to see whether he was back. The kitchen was on the same side of my house as my bedroom, so I took a cautious look out the window above my sink.

He was shirtless today, and had on reflector sunglasses and a tool belt. I took in the sight of his thick shoulders and arms, pectoral slabs, large dark nipples, and furry stomach with just a hint of a belly-no gym queen six-pack here. He turned around and bent down to pick up something, revealing the broad tanned expanse of his back and his butt straining against skintight denim. I dropped the towel I was wearing and began to stroke my stiffening cock.

At the moment the object of my fantasies straightened and turned suddenly toward the window where I was standing, as if he had sensed someone watching. Before I had time to react he was looking directly at me. I couldn't see his eyes behind the shades but I felt his steely blue gaze. There was no doubt he knew what was on my mind.

I moved quickly away from the window.

I decided after that I'd better cool it for a while. For the rest of the week I confined myself to quick looks at the site. Sometimes I saw him, sometimes not. Once from upstairs I thought I saw him looking at the kitchen window as if he was hoping I'd appear, but decided it was wishful thinking on my part.

The Thursday night weather forecast predicted rain, and sure enough I woke Friday morning to a steady patter on my rooftop. The site next door was blessedly quiet-no work was going to happen today. I stood at my bedroom window, dressed only in my briefs. The wall of the new house nearest mine stood before me, about thirty feet away. Construction had progressed fast and the outside was almost finished. Some of the second story windows had not yet been put in and gaps remained in the walls. One of these was almost directly across from me.

Suddenly I became alert. Someone was moving about next door.

The tall figure of the blond construction worker loomed in the opening. I got a full view of the square-jawed face and the clear blue eyes that had hooked me from the first day I had seen him. He wore the same tight jeans and his shirt was open to the waist.

He faced me, raised his arms to the top of the empty window frame and smiled. On this gray morning his teeth were brilliant white against his tanned face. One hand dropped to the bulging fly of his jeans and rubbed his crotch.

As if in a dream, I rubbed my own cock through the straining cotton of my underwear. I moved slowly, afraid I would somehow break the spell. His tongue darted from out of his mouth, and he started to unbutton his fly. He smiled again and pointed at me. I put my hands under the waistband of my briefs and skinned them down my thighs. My erect cock sprang free and I grabbed it.

Across the way my blond fantasy slid his jeans down his hips. He wasn't wearing anything underneath, and I saw that the fur on his stomach thickened into a dark blond forest at his crotch. He fished out his own semi-erect meat-uncut and thick, with a set of hairy, low-hanging balls beneath it. His big hand skinned the foreskin back and forth over the purplish head as he jerked it into full erection.

Our eyes were locked together across the distance between us, through the falling rain. He masturbated himself slowing, lovingly, stopping only to bring his hand up to his mouth for more lubrication. His other hand ran over his chest and stomach.

By now I was close to shooting. He grinned at me again and his tongue shot out. I imagined it tickling my balls, my nipple, my cockhead.

I cried out as I hit the point of no return. Cum shot from my pulsing rod and hit the windowpane and sill, running down the glass in pale thick streaks. My eyes closed involuntarily but I forced them open. I didn't want to miss one second of this show.

His hand moved faster and faster until it was a blur. Then he threw his head back. His eyes closed and his mouth opened in a soundless cry, and I knew what was going to happen even before I saw the white liquid spurt from the end of his cock. He clenched his other hand in a fist, his chest heaving with the force of his climax.

Finally he straightened. He shook the cum from his hand and wiped the rest off on his jeans. The blond hunk pulled his Levis up, buttoned them and looked at me again. I looked back at him, framed and decorated by the pale streaks of my spunk on the glass. He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up before he moved away from the window and was lost to view.

I stood there a while longer before I started on stiff legs to the bathroom to clean up and get ready to leave.

I didn't get much work done at the office that Friday. I tapped on the keyboard of my computer, hardly aware of what I was doing. I relived the morning's scene over and over. I kicked myself for not having tried to intercept the construction guy after our encounter, even though I was already late for work.

With all the fantasizing and despite having shot my load, by noon I was climbing the walls again. I stroked the erection in my pants absently while I thought about jacking off in the men's room.

Sudden knocking on the cubicle wall behind me jerked me out of my reverie. I wheeled around, hoping whoever it was hadn't caught me playing with myself.

It was Joel, a co-worker. He raised his eyebrows in greeting.

"How about some lunch, Rob? You look hungry."

Joel Rogers had arrived at the company a few months before. Right away his gaydar had zeroed in on me as family. Ever since then he had been letting me know he was interested. I had kept him at a distance, since I didn't want to mix work and play. Besides, he wasn't really my type.

In my current state of terminal lust, though, he looked pretty good. True, he was on the short side, didn't get enough sun and wore too much cologne. Still, his body was trim and his belly didn't fill the front of his shirt. When he turned his back he revealed a nice pair of buns stuffed into his dress pants. I made my decision in a split second.

"Sure, why not?"

I could tell Joel was taken aback at my accepting his invitation, though he tried not to show it. "Great. What's your pleasure?"

I stood. Joel's eyes dropped to the bulge in my pants, which was pretty prominent at the moment.

I walked straight up to him and began straightening his tie. He drew in his breath, startled. I looked into his eyes and made my voice low and soft.

"I'm hungry all right. But not for food."

His breathing came quick and shallow. He licked his lips.

"You mean, now?"

I smiled and nodded slowly.

Joel cleared his throat. "There's a place in the basement of this building. It's safe. Hardly anyone goes there."

Trust the horny devil to know about it. "Lead the way, guy."

I ran a hand over his chest, found one of his nipples under his shirt and pinched it. Joel gasped, and I thought he might cream his pants right then and there. Instead he wheeled and began walking down the corridor toward the elevators.

We rode down in silence. I avoided looking at Joel and instead concentrated on watching the numbers change. I was aware of him shooting sidelong glances at me, as if he were afraid I'd disappear. We didn't stop at the ground floor. When the door opened we were in a bare corridor on the basement level, lit by harsh fluorescent lights.

"This way," Joel said.

We turned a corner and my companion opened a door, snapping on a light. I followed him in and found myself in a small bathroom, just a washbasin, mirror and toilet. Joel turned and faced me. Our chests were almost touching.

"The door locks."

Sure enough, there was a deadbolt above the knob. I secured it and turned back to him. Joel nodded.

"We're safe. No one comes down here during the day."

"So you're speaking from experience?"

Joel smirked. "No comment." He began to rub the front of my pants. To tell the truth, I wasn't nearly as horny as I'd been upstairs. I was using Joel as a poor substitute for the man I really wanted. Guilt, I've found, tends to deflate your dick.

Joel didn't notice. He unfastened my belt and lowered my zipper, and quickly relieved me of my CKs. My cock flopped out, still half hard and wet with the precum it had produced all morning.

"Very nice," he said. He knelt and took it in his mouth. To my alarm this usually foolproof erection producer had no effect. In a moment he was going to notice that I wasn't into this scene.

I looked down at my hardworking partner and imagined that it was me on my knees in front of the construction worker. Instead of my cut six and a half inches I was deep-throating my working man's uncut eight-incher. My cock began to harden at the thought-my fantasizing was working.

"Suck it," I said to Joel, hearing in my mind the blond hunk say the same thing to me.

"Mm hmm," he said, sliding back and forth on my shaft, releasing it with a gasp to flick his tongue around the crown. I had to admit he was a pretty good cocksucker. I thought about how he looked from behind in the gray wool slacks he was wearing, just tight enough to show off his butt.

"Too bad I can't fuck you."

Joel stopped and looked up. "You want to? I have a rubber in my wallet."

I shook my head and grinned. "You're ready for anything, aren't you, you little slut?"

Joel smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment." He rose, turned and bent over the toilet, bracing one arm against the wall. "In my back pocket." I heard a metallic clinking as he unbuckled his belt.

I got the rubber out and quickly got it unrolled over my cock, then got to work stripping him. In a flash his pants were down around his ankles, followed by a skimpy pair of black bikini briefs.

"Sexy underwear," I murmured as I pushed his shirttails up out of the way. I wet a finger and worked it into the tight opening between his smooth, pale asscheeks. Joel moaned.

"Do it, guy. Fuck me."

I got into position behind him, applied as much spit as I could to my sheathed cock and pushed it in without ceremony. Joel's head snapped back and he cried out.

"You okay?"

"God yes," he breathed, his eyes closed, his teeth gritted. "Give to me, fucker."

I buried myself in Joel's ass up to my balls, pulled back and started to fuck him methodically. I watched my latex-covered shaft slide in and out of the stretched hole between his cheeks, and once again I thought of the construction worker. If we ever got together this was the way I'd want him to fuck me, like a dog, plowing me from behind with his uncut monster so he could see it splitting me open.

I increased the speed of my thrusts at thought, Joel grunting every time I hit bottom. I reached around inside his shirt and worked his nipples. "Oh, yeah," he said. He was jacking his own cock underneath himself with rapid strokes. I felt his body stiffen under me.

"Shit, I'm cumming," he gasped. I looked to one side, just in time to see the pale spurts from his cock splatter into the toilet bowl, over the porcelain and onto the tiled floor. I felt his ass grab my cock in the throes of orgasm and the squeezing pressure sent me over the edge. I let out a strangled "oomph!" as I unloaded into the rubber inside him.

I fell forward onto his back. We stayed joined as our breathing gradually slowed and we came back to earth. Finally I said into his ear, "Still have time for lunch?"

He turned and grinned up at me. "I feel like I've already had dessert."

Joel had turned out to be a nice guy and a hot fuck, but as we got cleaned up and dressed in that tiny men's room, I knew that he wasn't going to make me forget the man I hadn't even touched that morning. I still wanted the construction worker, more than ever.

After that Friday of fun and games it was no wonder that I came home exhausted that evening. After dinner I watched TV for a while, trying unsuccessfully to keep my eyes open, then gave up and went to bed early.

The next morning the rain had stopped. I had to run some errands. By the time I got back, it was early afternoon, the sun was high in the sky and the day had turned stifling. I jumped into a quick cool shower, got out, and put on an old pair of running shorts.

There was work to catch up on from the office. I got some reports out and sat in the living room reading. I don't know how long I'd been there when the doorbell rang. This was odd. I wasn't expecting anyone I knew or any deliveries. Cautiously I opened the door, then stood speechless.

The construction worker stood on my doorstep, flashing his pearly whites at me. He was in his work clothes, jeans, boots, work shirt, tool belt and hardhat. My eyes traveled downward and I found my voice.

"Fuck!"

His cock curved thickly outward through the open fly of his jeans, the dark purple head peeking out of the foreskin. I gaped.

He chuckled at my reaction. "So can I come in before I get arrested?"

I opened the door wider and stepped back. As soon as he was in I slammed the door shut, knelt down, grabbed his blue-jeaned ass and claimed my prize. I peeled back his foreskin with my lips, lubricating the head with so much spit it ran out of my mouth and dripped onto the hardwood floor. I heard him sigh and his big hands pressed against the back of my head. He began to fuck my face. I choked on his meat when it hit the back of my throat, but I didn't care.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

I looked up through watery eyes, smiled and said, "Never better."

He grinned again. "After yesterday I figured you might be interested. Thought I'd take a chance and come by today."

"You always walk around with that thing hanging out?"

He laughed. "Nope. I'm actually kind of shy."

"Well, shy guy," I said, "Do you want to go upstairs and fuck my butt?"

His laugh rolled out. "You don't waste any time."

I felt his hand caress my ass as we climbed the stairs. We got into my bedroom and his arms circled me from behind. I leaned back against his broad chest, breathing hard as one big hand tickled my nipple and slid under the waistband of my shorts. They hit the ground as I turned. I felt his hot breath on my face and an instant later his tongue was darting into my willing mouth. As we kissed I relieved him of his shirt, then set to work on his jeans. He started to unfasten his tool belt but I stopped him.

"Leave that on."

"Okay, but let me get these boots."

In a few moments he was naked except for his hardhat and tool belt. "Turn around and bend over," he said.

I grabbed my ankles and bent double to give him maximum access. I felt his hands part my cheeks, then his wet tongue darting into my crack. I moaned as it found my asshole.

"Fuck yeah, feels so good. Eat my hole, yeah."

He slurped and sucked, softening me up. At last he stood, his dick bumping against my butt. "Ready?"

"Yeah." I went to the nightstand and got the lube and condoms I always kept there. I reached under the bed and pulled out a long rectangular mirror. I carried it to the window and laid it on the floor with the narrow edge next to the sill. My partner watched all these preparations smiling, a bit puzzled. I walked back to him, knelt down and took a few more strokes on his dick with my mouth before I unrolled the Magnum onto his flaring cockhead.

I greased him up, took hold of his slippery cock, and led him to the window where I had placed the mirror, the same window where we had watched each other jack off the day before. I grabbed the sill and bent over with my legs on either side of the mirror. When I looked down I could see my cock and balls reflected in the glass.

"Fuck me, stud."

I watched his condom-covered cock and dangling, hairy balls enter the picture as he got into position behind me. He pushed and his knob disappeared into the opening. I gasped as my sphincter clamped down on it, trying to relax and accommodate him. Despite the pain I was tremendously turned on by the sight of his pole forcing open my back door.

He didn't stop until his ball sack was next to mine. Then the machinery of his body stirred into action as the glistening cylinder began its relentless cycle, pulling out, slamming into me and making me grunt, then out again, then pounding home again.

I heard his hoarse breathing as he fucked me. I braced myself against the sill with both hands and looked down into the mirror, totally absorbed in the scene, our balls swinging in tandem, his piston of flesh driving into me over and over like part of a great engine.

"Doing okay, man?"

"Fuck yeah," I said. "Pound my ass."

"Take it, fucker."

"Yeah, I can take it. Give me all you got."

"Oh fuck," he gasped, "I'm getting close."

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