I woke up the next morning feeling great, despite the rock hard boner I was already sporting.
I was feeling even greater than great when I whipped out the tape measure in my night stand and meticulously measured said boner, and came up with 6 and 3/8 inches. sometime between yesterday's locker room fuck-fest and this morning I'd cracked the 6 inch mark and then some.
I celebrated with some ridiculously long sets of crunches, push-ups, and planks right there in my bedroom. I worked off the hard-on at some point in the middle of the routine, and headed downstairs to prepare and inhale a late but mammoth breakfast.
This was my last day of freedom before my first scheduled shift at the grocery store for the summer, and I contemplated how I'd spend it while I loaded the dishwasher.
I thought about my shorts from yesterday, discarded in a ball in the corner of my bedroom. I thought about the slip of receipt paper shoved down in one of the pockets with the number on the back and the note from the Latino hunk that said "Hit me up sometime. -Renzo."
Jesus, how desperate would I come off if I waited less than a day before texting him looking for a hookup? Was I really suddenly that cock hungry? For such a new and alien feeling for me, I struggled to remember a time before I constantly had cock on the brain.
Old-Me would have been embarrassed by these thoughts. I would have been mortified at the idea of so eagerly seeking out a relative stranger's company, especially a dude's. But I felt my newfound confidence creeping in and overtaking my awkwardness. Suddenly cock-sure of myself, I was about to march right upstairs to fish that number out of my shorts. I was momentarily distracted by the sudden sound of a motor whirring to life outside.
It seemed to belong to a lawn mower, and it sounded much too close to be from one of the neighbors. Absentmindedly curious, I left the kitchen and followed the noise to the front window of the living room that looked down onto the front lawn.
My heart jumped to my throat. At the curb at the end of my yard, a red pickup with an open bed trailer attached sat parked in the street. "Michael's Lawn Care Services" was stenciled on the side of the pick-up. down at the end of my yard, riding up towards the house on a standing riding mower, was a familiar tanned hunk with a mess of sandy blonde hair.
My mind flashed back to earlier last week when I'd gone for a jog around the neighborhood and ran smack into the back of this kid's trailer because I was too busy staring at him mowing shirtless, with his khakis riding low, exposing no hint of any underwear, only the defined lines of muscles at his pelvis veeing down towards his hidden crotch.
He sported the same sagging khaki look today, but had on a white t-shirt with his company's logo on it. The sleeves were cut off entirely, and in fact much of the sides of the shirt were cut away too, giving me partial view of his chiseled midsection as he came up the yard closer to the living room window and then deftly pulled on a control arm and swung the mower around and headed back down towards the street for another pass.
I stood there transfixed in the window staring at him work. I silently thanked my mom for hiring a lawn cutting service while I was away at school. I should have probably been fearful of him seeing me watch him from the window, embarrassed that he might catch me staring, but I wasn't. I found myself oddly wishing he'd look up further and see me at the window watching. I was pretty sure, however, that I was raised up far enough out of his line of sight for him not to notice me. And with the glare from the sun, he probably couldn't see much into the house beyond the window anyway.
I watched him finish up the front yard, feeling a little like a creep, and somehow being turned on by feeling like a creep. As he was finishing up one last perfect line down the side of the yard towards the street, I noticed a painful tightness in my gym shorts as my wood pushed against the fabric. My hand snaked down my front and squeezed at my bulge.
He cut across the edge of the yard at the curb and stepped off the mower at his trailer. I stopped breathing for a moment as he pulled the sweaty sleeveless t-shirt up over his head and tossed it in the trailer, retrieving a weed whacker.
I had my hand inside my shorts and underwear, pulling and fiddling with my hard-on by the time he had the whacker started and was going to work at the weeds along the curb and up along the edge of our driveway. I had the front of my shorts and boxer briefs pulled down out of the way, slowly rubbing at my shaft, by the time he was going around the edges of the mulch area where my mom had some shaped shrubs and bushes planted.
I was fully engrossed in the moment by the time he was coming up the front sidewalk hitting the patches of weeds at the edges of the path. One hand kept my clothing pulled clear of my crotch while the other determinedly stroked my swollen cock.
I kept my eyes fixed on the young landscaper. His exposed flesh glistened with sweat. He was all taut muscles, with just a small patch of hair in the middle of his chest above his pecs to distinguish himself as more of man than a boy.
I worked at a frantic pace, feeling like I needed to finish before my jack off material wrapped up and left. When he was at the top of the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps up to our front porch, I felt the tingle of my nut brewing in my balls and slowly working its way up my length more with each pump of my fist. The sweaty landscaping hunk was as close as he'd been to me at the window yet, just below me and to the left. His back was to me and I focused in on the sight of his back muscles and shoulder blades flexing and tensing as he weed whacked. His khaki shorts had fallen so low at his trim waist that I could make out his tan line and the hint of a start to his ass crack, just below a dimple in his spine at the lowest point of his back.
My climax finished boiling up and hit me while i was focused on that tantalizing tan line. Surprised by the quickness of my own orgasm, I hurriedly let go of my grip on the waistband of my shorts and underwear. they snapped back up under my balls as my cock continued pulsing and I held onto it below the head and brought my now free hand up cupped to try and catch the spurts of warm cum that pumped out.
As the throbbing subsided, I was left with a mess. I caught a glimpse of the landscaper heading down the other side of the sidewalk as I left my perch at the window to go find something to clean up with.
I washed my hands at the kitchen sink, grabbed a dish towel and scrubbed at a wet spot on the front of my shorts where a stray splat of jizz had landed. I took the towel with me back into the living room, where I found one more stray blob of cum on the back of the couch beneath the window where I had watched and jerked off.
As I rubbed at the small spot, I realized that I no longer heard the sound of the weed whacker. I glanced up and out the window and saw the pickup and trailer still parked at the curb, but with all the equipment loaded back on it. I thought I'd lost sight of the hunky landscaper completely until I turned my head and noticed him coming up the steps to my front porch. Then he was out of my line of sight and the front doorbell was ringing.
I froze for a moment before I realized there wasn't really any way he could know I had just masturbated to his yard work in here. Then I realized with a shocking thrill that I wouldn't have cared if he did.
I headed for the front door and noticed just before I opened it that I still had a raging hard-on in my shorts.
I yanked open the door to find him standing there in front of the clear glass storm door, still shirtless. I hardly concealed a glance down the length of his front, practically staring at his abs and the faint thin happy trail that ran from his bellybutton down into his low-riding shorts. Then I realized I couldn't really hear what he wanted with the storm door between us. I pushed it open and took a step forward to keep it open with my body.
"Hey," I glanced behind him towards the truck at the curb, "Michael... what can I do for you?" I asked, surprising even myself with my cool nonchalance.
"Huh? Oh, nah Michael's my dad. I'm Gavin..." He paused, seeming to study me. I nearly blushed at his scrutiny. "Hey... Don't I know you?" His voice was deep, assuredly smooth.
I forced myself to quit staring at his chest muscles for a second to get a better look at his square jawed smooth face. He had piercing blue eyes and some slight blonde stubble on his cheeks and chin. The stubble was new, but suddenly I recognized him.
