The note left for me on the nightstand by Daniel, my mature lover, was sealed in an enveloped addressed to "Paul." I was about to rip it open when something more demanding got my attention.
Even before I turned 18, I usually awoke with a "morning wood" hard on. This morning I had more than enough reason to be aroused: The memory of a weekend of sex, anticipation of more to come next weekend, and the lingering sensation of Daniel's hand sliding over my naked ass as he exited room 201 of our motel sex haven.
I grabbed my cut 7.5-inch cock midway up the shaft and stroked. Usually I would go slow, work my cock close to climax, back off and repeat the process until the urge to blow my load was overwhelming. But Daniel had reminded me that I had only half an hour to vacate the room so I worked my cock with determination. I pushed hard on the down stroke, watching my cock head flare and precum ooze from my piss hole. I imagined Daniel's beautiful cock in my mouth or deep in my ass as I went over the top. My hips thrust upward and I moaned softly, felt my cock pulse and watched four strong blasts of cum fly through the air and onto my chest and stomach. More cum leaked from my cock head, slid over my hand and down my shaft.
My cock relaxed and after a minute's revelry I rolled out to bed, cleaned up, got dressed, stuffed Daniel's note in my back pocket and left room 201 just before check out time for what I never imagined would be the last time.
The next day, Monday, I reported to my construction job. Jim, our middle-aged crew foreman, called out using the nickname he'd picked for me: "college boy." I wasn't really a college boy, but I would be once summer was over. My construction job met two goals, most importantly paying a good wage to help me with tuition. Another benefit was building a stronger body, filling out my slim frame with muscle and tone. It proved a natural and surprisingly effective technique, and far more profitable than pumping iron at a gym.
"What's up chief," I asked Jim, enjoying the familiarity our crew had build during two months of working hard as a team.
"Come see me after your shift is over," Jim said. "There are things we need to talk about."
Damn, had I done something wrong and not noticed? But before I could strap on my yellow hard hat I noticed the trace of a smile on Jim's face (or was it a leer?) as his eyes seemed to roam over my body.
Jim's request was on my mind throughout the hot work day. What could he want?
My crew mates and I often rolled our eyes at Jim's ultra-macho image. He used a big-buckle belt to hold up his jeans and talked about "going commando." His low-cut shirts and muscular forearms proved he was a hairy guy. He drove a Ford F-250 4x4 sporting an "Always A Marine" bumper sticker. He bragged about doing two combat tours in Vietnam, something that struck a cord with me as my dad was killed in 'Nam when I was a baby. My mom never recovered...helping explain why I'd been pretty much on my own for years. Jim called his ex-wife "a cunt" and complained about the white-collar "faggots" who ran the construction company. Despite his homophobic bravado, we all liked him. He was fair to everyone...whites, blacks, Hispanics...and he stood up for us if his boss made unreasonable demands. The only thing Jim didn't tolerate was laziness. He fired or transferred anyone who goofed off and as a result we had the best crew in the company.
The work site was nearly empty when I knocked on Jim's construction trailer door just after quitting time. He opened up and motioned me to sit in the ratty leather sofa he'd salvaged somewhere. The ancient window air conditioner kept the temperature barely below the 87 degrees it was outside. We were both hot and sweaty.
"I've got some good news and some questions for you, college boy," Jim said as he sat looking down at me from the edge of his cluttered desk, his prominent chest hair sprouting from under his shirt. "I had my doubts when I hired you kid...figured you might not be up to the pace I set. But you've done well, and I see you've bulked up, too."
"Thanks Jim, I appreciate the opportunity you gave me and it's been good working for you," I said looking up from the soft sofa.
"Our crew has kicked ass on this project and even the gay boys in the front office recognize it," he continued. "There'll be a nice bonus for all of us at the end of the summer. Should help you pay tuition at that faggot Ivy League school you're going to next month. (I had a partial academic scholarship to Dartmouth College and, yes, I sure could use the bonus.)
