It was a dark and stormy night.
Okay, the sun was just setting, but it was raining. As I drove home from work, a light went off in beer-addled brain and I realized I had forgotten my jacket, and more importantly, my wallet, back at the site. We had had a few beers after work, but just enough to get me buzzing (and forgetful). I pulled over and, making sure the road was clear, banged a U-ey. It was gonna take another 20 to backtrack and then 45 to get home. And it's raining.
My cousin, Ryan, got me the job with his crew. I had been on a couple weeks; I liked it. The crew was nice and had no issue with my being gay, unlike the last assholes who - accidentally - took the ladder away and went to lunch when I was on the roof. And the nail gun kept misfiring when I'd walk by. Odd, I know.
Assholes.
So, twenty minutes later I make it back to the building site, a private home out all by itself on a hill, surrounded by woods. They'd had the house area cleared out; I think they sold the resulting lumber for a fortune. It was wicked dark out, no other homes or streetlights. On one hand, kinda pleasant but still kinda scary at night. I stepped out of the car and noted that there was a light on in the house. Looked to be in the main bedroom, which was where we had gathered for a few beers after working. Someone forgot to turn the light out, which was good cause my jacket was probably up there. Most of the house was sealed in, but that bedroom still had open walls 'cause they were arguing over the type and location of the windows they wanted. They wanted to see the view at different times of day. I doubted the light was them 'cause...raining.
Either we forgot it, or there was an axe murderer waiting for me. Or maybe teenagers getting high.
I was halfway to the house when startled by a loud boom of thunder. I jumped, and maybe I gasped a little. Most importantly, it threw off my stride, I hit mud, both feet went up in the air in front of me, and I found myself on my ass in the mud with both legs out straight in front of me. The term motherfucker played a part in the following rant as I pulled myself out of the ground's mucky clutches. Luckily it wasn't cold out, but I could already feel the wet soaking into my ass and thighs. I was not a happy man.
The chain at the board covering the front entry was missing. Which was good, cause it occurred to me then that I wouldn't have been able to get through it. Of course either that was forgotten, too, or the axe murderer was ready to wrap it around my throat. I quietly made my way up, figuring I could jump him and, I dunno, all the moves I've seen in ninja movies would come to me.
I went slowly down the hall and carefully peered ino the room. The axe murderer was seated in one of the folding chairs we used. My jacket would be on the other side of the room. He was looking at his phone and he was...wait. Was he? Omigawd he was jerking off. His pants were at his ankles and his hand was pumping at his lap. I'd like to say I didnt look at his dick because, you know, privacy, but....it was a big cock. The only sounds were the rain, grunting coming from the phone, and that little slap of flesh on wet flesh. I admit I was intrigued. I hadn't seen an axe murderer jerking off before, Okay, I hadn't seen an axe murderer before either. And those were some long strokes he was taking. I moved closer for a better view. I figured if he went for me, he'd trip over his pants while I made my getaway. I started to get a better view and must have made a sound, 'cause his head whipped around. Shit. Worse than an axe murderer: it was my boss.
"Matt?"
His phone hit the floor. He scrambled at his ankles, pulling his pants up. He realized to get them fully on he'd have to stand and give me the full monty. He bent over, arms folded in front of him. "Amos?! Uh...fuck."
I turned my back on him, giving him little privacy. "Sorry, Matt. I forgot my coat and thought you were an axe murderer. Or stoned teenager. Mostly axe murderer. Sorry. I didn't see...well, I did kinda...but I won't say anything. Fuck. Please don't fire me."
"Amos. Your ass is mud. Literally. You can turn around, I'm tucked away. And I'm not going to fire you. I...um...I was..ah. Dammit. Sorry you had to see that." He stooped and picked up his phone, looked at the screen and looked at me and then offed the phone. I swear he blushed.
"Hey not the first time I've had a dude jerk off in front of me. Oh god, that was the wrong thing to say. I'm just gonna get my jacket and we can both forget this ever happened." I started across the room, my wet jeans whistling against each other.
Matt started laughing, "Amos, what the fuck happened to you? You fall in quicksand?"
"The house is surrounded by a swamp of mud."
"It is caked on you. Take off the jeans and wipe them down; the roll of rags is over there. And have a beer."
I went over to the box and pulled out a few rags, untied and toed off my workboots, and slowly peeled down my wet jeans. I held them up and realized that wiping them off was not going to fix the issue. I tossed them over the sawhorse, letting my head fall forward in defeat.
From behind me, Matt chimed in. "Sorry to add insult to injury but your underwear looks like you shat yourself."
I didn't even bother to check and skinned my white jockeys off. I wasn't going anywhere for awhile. Rather than walking around balls to the wind, I took off my light flannel shirt, wrapped it around my waist, and knotted the sleeves at the side. I turned around to Matt and caught him shifting his gaze from my waist to my eyes. Was he watching my shirt or checking out my ass? I've got a good ass, I work to keep it firm and tight, no sagging on this booty. He was watching me wrestle with my shirt. Right? Or not?
I spread my arms, "Instant kilt. Now I'll take that beer." I took the offered drink and sat in a chair opposite, stretching out my legs and drinking down half the can in one go. "Won't your family worry where you are?"
He shrugged, "The girls are all at my sister-in-law's. No one is expecting me."
