The Vacation House

I'm finally able to let loose and have some fun here in Burlington. It has been little more than work upon more work and stress ever since the building site was set up a few weeks ago. It was a bitch driving the trailer up here but Tag and I managed to get it on solid ground. The utilities are all hooked up and most importantly we have WiFi and running hot and cold water.

What I had not expected where all the hands of the locals demanding fees for everything from waste removal to added security at night, local P.D. and money grabbing yokels on the Burlington zoning board. I'm telling you, everyone is out to get a piece of the action, don't let these supposed country folk fool you, they seem to have the art of bullshit and pickpocketing down pat. I don't have a clue how Lee and dad worked their brand of magic with this bunch of assholes but my hats off to them for getting the project this far.

Tag has me dealing with the day to day bullshit of bills receivable and payables. It seems more goes out than is coming in but as Dad and Lee explicitly instructed us prior to accepting our new positions in their company, don't panic. Tag is showing his skills and local knowledge to the point that I barely get out of the trailer some days. There is a big disconnect between us that I had not anticipated. It's literally dealing with what ever new crisis arise, figure out how to solve it with the least amount of money spent and man power lost and just hold tight for the next one to occur.

I have been doing some of the hiring but Tag has taken control of who does what, where and when. The feeling of being a sideline cheerleader was not what I had envisioned, yet I just don't feel comfortable enough in my own skills or judgment to put my neck on the chopping block yet.

Have to hand it to Tag, he is cool under pressure, takes no guff from any of the workers while at the same time comes off as a benevolent employer. Me, I just don't get it, I'm shut up in this tin can all day long, no one to vent my frustrations to. I realize this is life, the big time, we don't get a do over or a trophy for simply coming in second to last. Second to last will get us all under water financially, my future can't start out with that sort of failure.

Friday eve of the fifth week at this site has me going stir crazy. I have to get out of this trailer, away from these effin ledgers and computer screen. I burst out of the screen door, my soul soars as I feel the loose dirt beneath my Timberland boots. How I've longed to just go over to the ice rink and do some laps, work on my C-cuts and Russian dots from the ole days, just let everything go and skate till I'm exhausted.

My duffle is in my hand, Silver is waiting for me to get her the hell out of the ruts she's sunk into having not been driven for nearly a week. I toss my gear into the back of the pick-up, closes the cap door with the high pitched squeak that always occurs when the handle is turned to the locked position.

Just as I am getting into the drivers side door, I see three of the workers we've hired over the past month in the distance. They're walking side by side, laughing, speaking in their natural tongue. I wave to them as they walk toward the exit of the site, figuring they are most likely on their way to a local pub for dinner and a few brews, a quick way to burn through the weeks salary they each had earned. I wave to them, only to my surprise they head toward me, still going on in Spanish, laughing and pushing one another toward me.

"Hey boss-man, want to come and work off some dirt and sweat with us?"

The shortest but clearly the biggest built guy asks as he steps forward, pats the rear fender of my pick-up then gives me and his friends a big smile, a nod of his head toward the bed of the truck.

I'm shit at Spanish but I know a friendly invite when I hear one. I motion them to the back tail gate and passenger door. Two of the guys introduce themselves, Juan and Miguel, the leader of this group proudly introduces himself as Carlos. He pushes his hand into mine, shakes with a very firm grip.

Juan and Miguel open up the back cap window and lower the tail gate, hop right up on the rough diamond point liner, their legs swinging back and forth a few feet above the dirt drive. Carlos opens the passenger door, hops in. I climb into the drivers side of Silver, pulls on my seat belt, looks over at my new friend who has the most dumbfounded look. He suddenly gets the hint, gives a little laugh then draws the restraint into place, clicks it in. This really hits me as stupid as I look into the rear view mirror, sees Carlos' pals dangling dangerously from the tailgate.

"So, where are you guys heading too?"

I really was not sure where they were intending to go but I figured it could not be very far from here since they had limited transportation to and from work each day.

"Where ever you want to go boss-man, it's fine with us. We have nowhere to be until work again Monday."

I'm shocked that there had been no specific place in mind of the crew members. I thought about it for a moment, choose to invite them to join me at the lakefont beach behind the local ice rink for a cool down after a long weeks work.

"Sounds good to me boss-man, sure we can all get in there no trouble? We don't need no effin trouble, hear me?"

I can hardly contain my shock and the the urge to laugh out loud.

"Of course you can, it's a public park right behind the rink. Open to anyone until sun down. The beach is deserted this time of day anyway!"

Taking my eyes off the road for a moment, I see Carlos has reservations about going to a public place like this. I get the vibe that he, well they may have not have always been welcome by locals, you know, migrant workers and all.

"Fuck that shit, you're with me and we are not doing anything wrong so let's just enjoy the beach and not having to work over the weekend."

The smile that spread across Carlo's face warmed my heart. He pulls the sliding windows between the cab and cap, yells to his co-workers something in Spanish. I easily hear their celebratory howls as the pick up hits the paved road and heads the few blocks toward the park complex that hides the wooden stairs down to the sandy lake beach.

It is only a few minutes before we pull into the lot for the rink. A small pathway leads alongside the left of the skating facility before a few well worn wood tables and benches come into view.

The three workers take off as if lightning had struck them. I barely have time to grab the keys from the ignition before I take off after them with reckless abandon.

It is funny that none of them seem to know this place but they all instinctively recognize where the pine trees end and the early evening sky open wide as the place to go to.

Down the rough wooden staircase they hurl themselves. I'm convinced one of them is going to break a leg if not worse as they speed toward the sandy shore. A stunning site no matter where you are from, the calm water spreads for miles in all directions, rolling low hillsides on the distant shore, not a living soul in sight!

Shirts, shoes, well worn workpants are stripped off and discarded by the three workers. Their dark skin reflects the suns warm glow, their youthful nakedness stirs tingles in all sorts of places I had not expected just minutes before.

One after another they run into the waters inviting comforts. Carlos waves his hand high in the air, beckons me to join them.

Why not? I've worked just as hard as anyone since I got here. To hell with being proper, I walk toward the edge of the waterfront, pulls my Polo over my head, kicks off my boots with a bit of a stumble, recovers my balance, slides my fingers into the waistband of my shorts and underwear. Can't help but pause for a moment as a rush of embarrassment floods my face. Ears burning, thoughts of what the hell am I doing splash across my mind.

The sound of the three already in the water, splashing and now making mock chicken sounds directed at me. Buck, buck, buck, drums into my head, forces me to abandon my fears. I strip down naked, runs toward the waters edge, cool breeze caressing my pale naked flesh, the freedom of my unrestrained penis and balls sends shivers of delight through my body, I dive into the shocking cool water of the lake only to emerge surrounded by my new found friends.

We horseplay for what seems an eternity. Splashing, pushing, pulling, diving attempting to surprise or undermine one another. Hands grab, elbows fly, naked flesh is pressed against others hard bodies. My soul flies higher than the clouds as we continue to enjoy the simple pleasures of nature and the feeling of being recklessly free.

There, it happens, I am sure that it was simply a playful slip of a hand but it definitely happened. My butt clenches as I feel someone's grip pulling at my left butt cheek, a finger slips between and the most urgent poke at my exposed anus. My head instinctively snaps in the direction of the feeling. Carlos looks out toward his co-workers, his gaze gives away not one bit of recognition of what I have just experienced. He continues to speak in his native tongue, laughter and banter between the three as if nothing had happened. Maybe it was nothing, just a slip, an accidental grab in a moment of fun.

Calming myself, I think of the many times I have accidentally groped, touched, nearly humped my fellow hockey players in order to break free of a hard check or just to get the puck on my stick during the heat of a game.

My mind calms down, reality hits home. These guys are just blowing off a weeks worth of steam. An innocent slip of a hand is just that, right?

The sun begins to settle on the horizon, my skin is starting to pucker like that of a raisin but the guys just have endless energy and do not seem to be aware of the passage of time spent in the lake.

Though I can not grasp much of the language I can interpret the suggestiveness of their discussion. A challenge to a battle of chicken and it seems that I am the one who is being battled over. The dunking attacks between my newly formed friends becomes serious. It is clear that Carlos considers himself the leader of this motley band of day workers and in no time flat has proven himself their superior.

"Boss-man, you are my partner, up on my shoulders. I am as solid a base as you will find among these two other tumbleweed. We will have them drowned like rats in but a few moments. You trust me?"

Taken aback by the tone of his offense toward his friends as much as his seemingly taking ownership of me, I relinquish any thoughts of being the boss-man as I throw one leg, then the other over the shoulders of what turns out to be, one seriously solid man. My balls are mashed against the back of his muscular neck. I am acutely aware that my dick is pressing firmly against the back of his head. It seems to become a bit enlarged by the interaction with the macho Mexican I am mounted upon, like a soldier atop a muscled steed as they prepare to do battle.

Across from us, Miguel mounts Juans shoulders. He shifts from side to side in order that his crotch finds some comfort being forcefully buried against his fellow workers muscular shoulders and neck. I know the discomfort he is experiencing while at the same time the shear touch of another's body against what we do our very best to hide and protect day in and day out brings the animalistic surge of sexual tension into the mix.

It takes only a moment for me to realize the size difference between the team of Juan and Miguel and what must appear to them as a wall of pure muscle. Between my height and athletic build and the broad shouldered platform Carlo's supports me with, our adversaries are clearly in for a quick and cruel defeat.

Carlos raises his head up to look at me; "You call it boss-man, on your count."

I nod my head, reaches my hands far in front of myself, claps as hard as I can and proclaims, "you're going down suckers! 1-2-3!"

The battle begins. At first I'm a bit surprised at how agile Miguel is until I realize his true weakness, it is Juan. Juan struggles with all his might to keep his team standing but from the get go it is apparent that he has neither the upper or lower body strength to combat us.

In minutes Miguel is sent backward, arms flailing, his legs having been released by the nearly half drowned Juan, exposes every inch of his crotch and ass crack right to the extremely tight little brown asshole pucker to all of us before he hits the surface of the lake with a mighty splash.

Before I know what has hit me, I find myself being hurled into the air, landing on the surface of the lake in a painful bellyflop! The stinging sensation spreads from my head to toes. I am finally able to regain my footing on the sandy base below the surface of water and mid battle of a ferocious splash fight.

My arms are strong, long and lean, put up an attack that I am sure my adversaries have not counted on. Somewhere mid battle the feeling of near penetration of my exposed backside causes me to stop and take a full swing at what or who ever is attempting to anally invade me. It feels thick and very hard, much larger that a finger. Carlos simply smiles and laughs in my face as he wades around my side and continues the ongoing splash battle that had been momentarily interrupted.

I can't help but have the feeling of anger, confusion and embarrassment take hold. My abrupt turnaround and heading for shore sends a cold and clear signal that a line has been crossed.

Fury fills me to the point of violent rage, that is until I see him standing on the shoreline, just feet away from the waters edge. Hands on his hips, expressionless. My heart sinks into my stomach.

It sounds like some weird otherworldly goings on as the day workers wade past me laughing as they grab their clothing strewn across the beach until each of their naked butts disappears beyond view of the top steps leading back toward the ice rink facility.

Standing in ankle deep water, merely a few feet from where the sandy beach meets the lake, I find myself paralyzed. Unable to form words or the ability to remove myself from my exposed situation, I just stand here, staring into his deep gaze. I realize the tingle that begins to spread through my body. My freaking prick has a mind of its own and just decided that it's time to play.

Oh god not now, why now? Why of all times in my life does this have to happen but now? Swelling of my penis is the least of my problems as I look up and see the three amigos whooping it up, laughing and egging each other on to see which one of them would be brave enough to come down and see the boss-man stark naked with a full hard on up close and personal.

Lake water drips down my tight skin, rolls over the massive curves of the bubble butt that juts out from behind me.

He stands there, stares into my eyes. I feel as if my soul is being sucked out of me. My lips part, words attempt to form only to be expelled as breath from between my teeth.

He turns, his head drops in a sign of resignation. The mighty form before me slowly walks in the same sandy imprints of his previous footsteps. His retreat is shrouded in sadness and sorrow.

Guilt engulfs me, the recognition of my exposed nakedness leaves me shaking and weak. I run to the places I had discarded my clothing. The moments of joy and reckless freedom are replaced by embarrassment and utter shame. The massive cotton clad backside of my tormentor takes to the worn wooden stairs. Two steps at a time are taken in stride as if it were nothing for him.

He finally reaches the top platform which leads to the bench lined walkway, turns, his right arm reaches forward, the fingers separated. He beckons me to come to him, to follow.

I grab my work boots, having been able to cloth myself to the point of decency. I break into a full run, ignores the splinter that has just embedded into my left palm as I grab hold of the worn wooden railings that line each side of the ascending staircase.

Two, three steps at a time, I run with all the speed I can muster until we are finally face to face..

A glistening welling of tear reflects along the lower eyelid of his right eye. He blinks, the tear escapes, makes its way over the thick dark lashes until it leaves a long glistening wet trail over his cheek only to find its final resting place in the very corner of the plump lips and deep dimple that defines his pouting mouth.

He reaches his right arm toward me. I flinch for a moment fearing a strike or blow to the side of my face. Instead the outstretched hand simply runs across the bristle like crop of hair atop my head.

I bury the side of my face onto his muscled shoulder and neck. His fingers continue to move slowly back and forth across my manicured flat top crew cut.