Mark glided down the sidewalk towards my house as I hoisted the final bag of mulch onto my shoulder. He had long strides, a fluid gait and a brisk pace. His chiseled bronze chest and washboard glistened with a lather of sweat.
"Hey how are ya doing?" I asked with a nod.
"Good, you?" He replied with a bright, million watt smile. He slowed his pace. "I need to ask you a car question. Do you mind if I stop back after my run?"
"Of course not," I replied quickly. My interest in and knowledge of cars was well known in the neighborhood. I'd recently finished one restoration project with my son and I had a new one waiting in the third bay of my garage. "I'll be doing yard work all day. Stop by any time."
"Great. See ya soon." His pace quickened and I watched him run for a moment before resuming my yard work. He was a very attractive man and a frequent topic of conversation among my wife and her friends. They called him "the runner" and they all sang his praises. They talked about trying to set him up with Emma, the one recently divorced girl in the group. I didn't have the heart to tell them that they were barking up the wrong tree.
Mark and I weren't close but we had spoken in passing a few times and I was fairly certain that he was gay. He dressed well and kept himself in fantastic shape. In addition to his daily runs I'd seen him lifting at the gym countless times. He was in his mid thirties and single. He had worked in law enforcement for a few years since transitioning out of the Navy and he still wore his hair high and tight. He didn't sound or talk effeminate but he definitely made my gaydar ping.
I was seated in a chair on my front porch, taking a break and drinking a beer when Mark returned. He'd put a shirt on but was still wearing his mesh running shorts and his brown hair was soaked with sweat.
"How was your run?" I asked as I walked down my front steps and extended my hand.
"It was great. I'm running in the Marine Corp Marathon in the fall and I'm trying to get my times down under 3 hours," he replied with a smile.
"I've never run more than 5 miles at a time but that sounds fast. Under 7 minute miles for 26 miles, I'm impressed. You're training so I don't suppose you'd like a beer?"
"Actually I'd love one," he nodded. His blue eyes seemed to linger on mine for a few moments and a slight shiver ran down my spine.
"Great I've got some in the fridge out back," I said as I walked towards the gate on my 6' privacy fence. Mark followed and I let him into my secluded back yard.
"Wow, this is nice, a pool and a hot tub. Sweet. No neighbors in back and the fence blocks out the side. You've got total privacy."
"I do," I said with a wry grin as I reached into the small fridge I'd installed as part of an outdoor kitchen a few years earlier and grabbed him a Leinenkugel Summer Shandy.
"Thanks," he said, taking a long pull from the bottle of beer. "Do you get much use out of the hot tub?"
"Oh yeah. I'm in there a few times a week," I replied taking a seat around the fire pit. Mark sat down opposite me and I discretely noticed the outline of his dick through his shorts. "You can use it anytime if you want. It's great to get rid of aches and pains. I use it to recover from hockey and gym."
"I might take you up on that," he said looking into my eyes. The sun had disappeared behind the house and I'd taken my sunglasses off as we talked.
For the next half hour Mark asked me several questions about the cars I had restored and my next project. He asked about the check engine light in his Ford F150 and I offered to scan the codes when we were done. We both finished a second beer and we were making small talk when he caught me glancing furtively at his crotch. His smile widened and he looked deadly serious.
"I saw that," he nodded and my cheeks warmed with embarrassment. I'd been married for twenty years and I was, for the most part, straight but in college I'd experimented briefly with bisexuality. Over the years I'd fantasized often about gay and bisex and I sometimes watched gay and bisexual porn when I jerked off but I hadn't touched another man sexually in twenty five years.
"Sorry," I said meekly. I felt like a child caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar and my pulse quickened.
"It's okay," he said in a soft soothing tone. "I'll show it to you for a dollar." It sounded like a joke but his expression was completely serious.
"I don't have my wallet," I joked, trying to diffuse the uncomfortable situation with humor but he didn't crack.
"That's okay. You can owe me. I know you want to see it. You've been checking it out all afternoon." Hey rose to his feet and hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his shorts.
