All characters are over eighteen years of age. There is bare backing in this fantasy story.
Part 1
A long time ago, in a place not very far away, I was working as a contractors assistant during one of my college summers. My name is Sweet. David Sweet. I know what you're thinking: a nice and meek little college kid with no experience; a young guy hoping to find his 'first' in his first year away at school. Okay, so you're right.
"David." Mr. Mackalay is calling me. I run all of his business errands for him; and he depends on me to be at his side during the workday.
"Yes Sir."
"David, please take the truck to Garbolt and Harley, they are the masonry suppliers down near the industrial park. There is an order waiting there for us. We need the supplies to finish the deck base before dark today." He hands me the keys. Mr. Mackalay is a nice man. He treats me with respect.
"Can I stop by the diner on the way back?...it will be after my lunchtime." There is a pause before he answers me.
"Fine. But do not be late! This job has a penalty clause if we go over budget or over the time allotted for completion."
"Yes, Sir...I understand." I understand how cool it is to be driving the new heavy duty top of the line pickup, owned by a very fastidious man who just happens to own the whole damn company - my employer, Mr. Tucker W. Mackalay!
It's only a ten minute ride to the supply house from this job-site. I crank the radio up; and relax in the cool air-conditioning, on this hot summer day. I am thinking of my first roommate back at school. He is a bit shorter than me, a bit more muscular, and way more masculine, that's for sure. He has a girlfriend back in his hometown; and is constantly telling me stories about how they fool around together. I wish he would fool around with me that way!
"Pull around to the back! Jimmy has the order ready to load." G&H is a fairly big place. It takes me a minute to figure out where the 'back' is, and when I do get there, Jimmy is waiting impatiently, sitting on a stack of cement bags.
"Dude! This is not a pleasure cruise! Get your ass and that truck over here and help me load this shit." I am speechless. I carefully back the truck up so as not to hit anything, while not taking my eyes off of Jimmy for even one second. He is magnificent.
"James." I take his outstretched hand and he squeezes it to death. His smile burns brighter than the hot summer sun roasting his skin to a perfect golden tan.
"David. Sorry about the delay. It's my first time. Here. My first time here for a pickup." I know my face is flushed. Can't hide that. Just hope the tent in my pants is not as obscene as I think it is.
"It's okay, dude. And call me Jimmy." Long pauses make me nervous. His eyes are taking me in. His smile is genuine and happy, so why do I feel a chill up my spine? I move to the tailgate and before I have it fully opened, Jimmy tosses a heavy bag of cement onto the floor, just about hitting the back of the cab.
"Damn! Easy, man! I am responsible for this baby, and Mr. Mackalay keeps her fresh and clean." As soon as I say this, I regret it. The toss of the heavy cement bag was so effortless as to be impossible - for me, at least. I lift up one of the bags, and have a hard time just reaching the floor of the truck. Jimmy nudges me to the side and easily lifts the bag, tossing it quickly on top of the first one.
"Fresh and clean, huh?" I wish the yard had a great big hole I could fall into. "It's a truck, Davey. Trucks, like some people (he pauses again - same way of checking me out) need to be handled just right. Most can take a hard pounding, if you know what I mean?!" Where's that fucking hole? He must see how embarrassed I am. Jimmy points to a place where I can sit, while he finishes loading the truck.
Part 2
I need to tell you some more about Jimmy. He is my height, right around 5' 10". He must weight at least 30 pounds more than I do. This man, probably in his mid twenties, looks like he lives in a gym. His job alone is a workout! He is wearing shorts and a cutoff tee, white and tan to help with the heat. If I tell you that his body is perfectly sculpted in every way, with every muscle bulging for attention, you must believe me. Jimmy is mesmerizing. His sandy blond hair is summer short; his deep blue eyes like pools of clear ocean water. White sneakers, made dirty by the dust in the yard, cap big feet. Sweat is beading on the skin that his clothing does not cover. His shirt is drenched. He pauses again and looks right at me, with only a few more things to load.
"Nice day, huh, Davey? Good for my tan." With that, Jimmy tugs at the bottom of the tee that, with his sweat, has become a second skin. He peels it upward, and over his head, not breaking eye contact with me at all. "How's the tan coming?" Jimmy slowly turns around, lifting his arms over his head, like he's posing on stage. His chest is gleaming with hot, sticky sweat. I see wispy clusters of blond pit hair, matted to hot, tanned skin, and I feel dizzy. I grab the side of a nearby column, and answer him.
"Sweet." Then I burst out in a nervous laugh. He quickly moves toward me, almost aggressively.
"What do you mean? What's funny?" His face is stern. No smile. His body is so close to mine that I can feel the heat he radiates out. His scent is intoxicating. It amazes me that a man can be so dirty and sweaty; and still give off a scent that I wish I could bottle and use as my cologne. My eyes leave his; and I slowly stand, glancing up from his thick legs, bulging crotch, past ripples of abs, around small protruding nipples and over mounds of heaving chest plates. I pause at his neck and think how lovely it would be to nuzzle there. Then I feel a large hand grab me by the shoulder. It hurts. I lock eyes with him.
"Your tan is amazing, Jimmy." My voice is confident, strong, and sure. "I only laughed because my last name is Sweet, and when I said you looked sweet..." He does not wait for me to finish before erupting in bellows of kid-like laughter. I join him.
"You're good people, Davey." He turns and loads the rest of the items. "Get this load back to your boss before he gives you a good pounding for being late." His smile is mischievous. I don't like the term 'boss'. Don't like people talking down to me, or treating me poorly. Never could stand feeling inferior. Yet I've lived my life exactly that way - pushing aside my strengths and being submissive. This guy is more than hot. I might take a chance and see if my intuition is on target. Talk of 'pounding'...of 'fresh and clean'...of his tan...the pauses...the display of his body...probably just my over imagination.
