Part Two
The rest of the week went well for Luke. Coach Miller kept him very busy in the gym but also out working in the neighborhood, which meant more money, which was great! Coach Miller let him know that he apparently did such a good job over at Bill and Mike's house that he had people calling up the service and specifically asking for the kid who did their house. They seemed a little flustered on the phone when Coach Miller would ask them why. "Oh? Did Bill and Mike recommend him? No? Did you like the way the lawn looked?" For whatever reason, people seemed hesitant to tell Coach Miller why they specifically wanted Luke, but that didn't really matter, Coach Miller was happy for the business.
"Whatever you're doing, Luke, it's working. Bill and Mike let me know they thought you were great and they want you back next week, and we've gotten lots of requests for business based on your work over there, so whatever you did, keep it up! Remember: The customer is always right." Luke was proud that Coach was proud. He figured that he was doing so well because Coach Miller had advised him well. He made sure to always treat the customer like they were always right--to be agreeable, friendly, and focused. It did seem like people around here were especially friendly; Luke wasn't so used to all the hugging and grabbing and squeezing and patting. Even the guys on his team who Luke had finally started practicing with! He was used to the occasional "good job" slap on the ass, but it did feel like it was happening more often with his teammates than he was used to. They were probably just trying to make him feel welcome.
When he went back to Bill and Mike's house the next week, he greeted each of them with a smile and was pleased that they were smiling back, although there was a slight wicked glint to their smiles, as they had a little plan for this week. They weren't exactly sure how well it would work--how simple could this boy be?--but they were hopeful that it would.
Things went about the same as they had the week before: Bill and Mike had quickly gotten Luke out of his shirt and had insisted on greasing him up with suntan lotion again, taking advantage of the situation to again molest the boy's amazing body. They rubbed the cold lotion on his nipples until they were hard, and dipped their hands down under his shorts, fingering his ass crack and the root of his dick.
Luke, who had been working hard on lawn-work all week and even harder in the gym, looked even better than before, if possible. His farmer's-tan has turned into an all-over bronze and all of his muscles were pumped up just a little bit beefier. While it made it more difficult to slip fingers down into his buttoned shorts, it made the two men want to get at this kid even more. They had come across the perfect ass and they needed to see it, to touch it, to have it.
Luke, shirtless, greased-up and shiny, did the backyard first, then moved onto the front. While he was working on the front, Bill ran out back and took the lawn clippings Luke had emptied from the mower into a lawn-bag. He took a couple of large handfuls of the trimmings and ran over to the pool and dumped them in, then repeated the process a few times so that there was a bunch of grass floating in the pool.
As Luke was finishing up on the front, Mike came out with a fake scowl. Luke finished and let the engine die, then turned his attention to Mike.
"Something wrong, sir?" He asked.
"Unfortunately yes, there's a bit of a problem in the backyard, kid, come take a look."
Mike places his hand on the small of Luke's back and guided him to the backyard, his hand imperceptibly inching lower, his pinky worming it's way into Luke's waistband. Luke didn't pay it any mind--these Iowan's were just so damn friendly. At this particular moment, though, he was too worried about what went wrong in the backyard to think much at all about the finger wiggling around at the top of his ass-crack, or even when Mike managed to squeeze the top of one of Luke's beautiful round globes.
When they got to the back they saw Bill standing, hands on hips, shaking his head as he looked into the pool. "Here he is, Bill," Mike announced.
Bill turned around, frowning: "What gives, kid? Did you not use the grass-trap?"
Luke, with half Mike's hand still down the back of his shorts, leaned over to look into the pool and see all the grass. "Aww, dang. I'm so sorry sirs. If you got some kinda net or something I'd be happy to clean it for ya."
"You're damn right you will, boy" Bill scolded.
"Now, now," Mike soothed, rubbing his hand in comforting circles around Luke's lower back and ass (although over the shorts now), "It's an accident and he's going to clean it up. Everything's fine."
Bill walked up to Luke as Mike's hand found its way back under the rear of Luke's waistband. Bill got up real close, "Okay," he said, his face inches away from Luke's, whose juicy lips quivered slightly, just a small movement away from Bill's own. He put a hand on each of Luke's bare shoulders, "but it better be spotless."
Bill released him and went to the shelf where they kept the pool stuff. They had hid the long-poled cleaning net that they normally used away in the basement, along with the water-vacuum, so there was just the little hand-skimmer there for Bill to grab and hand to Luke.
"Oh, do you have anything longer? I don't think I'll be able to get stuff from the middle or the bottom with this."
"Huh, good point," Mike agreed, giving the top of Luke's right cheek a lil' squeeze.
"You'll have to get in," Bill said.
"Oh," Luke said. He wasn't expecting that, but he was eager to please, "I guess I could go in these," he conceded, referring to his khaki shorts.
"Oh, you can't do that," Mike started, "The filtration system is old. The fibers from those shorts'll clog it up."
