For ClanManA3.
Part Three
A Return to Bob’s House
-1-
Out in the country, on Country Road 125, my next customer lives. Or I hope he is my next customer. Fingers crossed. Toes, too. Everything crossed that can be. That my small little roofing company will get this much-needed job.
He is tucked away on a quiet road away from the prying eyes of any neighbors. His closest neighbor is about five miles away. I met Bob in the regular way, he called me. He needed an estimate on the cost of having his house re-roofed after some of the many storms we’ve experienced lately. He knew he could not do it. A roof service call, something that happens every day across America. Although I am not sure one is greeted, in quite the same way that I was.
My company is small, a mom and pop, minus any mom, and just a pop, consisting of me and two other guys. Men that I have known and have trusted for many years. Decades, in fact. We need the work, and I am hoping my estimate will get us this much needed job.
The road to Bob's house is canopied with many low hanging oak trees. I knew that a semi-truck would not be able to make it down this road, so pick-ups were going to be used to haul in all our supplies, if were to get this contract. The county has laws on the books concerning canopy roads, they are sacred to the feel of the area and none of the trees are to be damaged unless it is by an act of God, or someone could face some hefty fines. That would be another added expense to the estimation, were it to happen. I am afraid this job is slipping away even before I lay eyes on the house.
The day is hot, like it is for every summer day. Stifling. The humidity could kill you; they say, it could take the breathe right out of you as it clutches your lungs and squeezes the last gasps of air from your tired and worn body. I am accustomed to it. It is all I know. And my men I work with too.
As I rounded the bend in the road, I saw the house. It is a modest red brick late seventies ranch-style house, a common occurrence in these parts. It would be a simple job barring no major damage. But it is a big house by any measurable standard.
He told me on the phone to honk my horn as I approached. Which I did.
Bob came out of the house, hastily pulling on a pair of very short shorts. He was not expecting me so soon, I can assume. In the process of buttoning, a pair of frayed and faded short cut-offs and not appearing to be in any rush. I saw his cock-hairs when I turned into the driveway. He looked to be in his mid-forties, ten years older than me in my best guesstimation. He was shirtless, not that I blamed him. As I said, the day is hot; this one is a scorcher. I waved and he returned it likewise.
We shook hands before I even opened the door and got out of the truck.
"You are Mr. Robert Warren." I said, trying to be formal and professional, I really needed this job.
"My friends call me Bob." He says. “Call me, Bob, please.”
"Bob, it's a pleasure to meet you let me get you that estimate," I said. "By the way, I am Dave Stevens, but you know that. You called me."
I laugh nervously. Maybe I just need to relax or maybe the heat is getting to me.
We make our way from the driveway to the side of the house and resume our conversation. I have my handy clipboard in hand making notes and such as, we walk and talk.
"So that's the roof" I say. It was kinda dumb to state the obvious, but I had said it anyway.
"Yes, it is, it is not sloped to bad and from what I can tell, there is some damage from the storms but there are not any leaks as far as I can tell, " he says. "But you are the professional, not me, you’d know better."
As Bob and I walked around, I noticed that his shorts were unzipped, the fly, wide-open, but he did not seem bothered by it, his pubes peeked through that opening, visible for me to see but he did not seem fazed. I think I even glanced at his dick during one point in the conversation. He never left my side as I inspected the roof from the ground before I got up on it with the help of a ladder to do a closer look.
Now I had to get on the roof.
"Well, let me get my ladder off my truck and I'll inspect that roof for you.” I said.
"I have one in the back out by my shed near the pool, you are welcome to use it." He offered.
"Sure, if you do not mind." I answered.
"No, not a bother at all." He said. "You are drenched in sweat, Dave, why don't you take that shirt off. Cool yourself down. We are both men here."
"Thanks."
He went and got the ladder as I stripped off my sweat-soaked shirt.
It felt good to have that thing off. It was soaked, as he said. I snapped the buttons down happily, the fresh air felt good on my sweat soaked chest. At least my chest could dry out. I hung it on a bush as I shimmied up the ladder that Bob had placed up against the side of the house. He held it for me as I made my way onto the roof.
"There is no need to hang around the ladder Bob, I will be up here for a while getting some rough measurements. " I shouted down to him. "Go about your business as if I am not even here."
"Sure thing." He said and disappeared from my sight.
I will admit, Bob has a nice, secluded piece of land. A pool in the backyard, which seems mighty inviting on such a scorcher of a day like today. I could go for a dip myself. A few outbuildings, one even looks like it has weights and gym equipment inside of it.
I start my measurements at the front of the house.
I hear a loud splash. Bob has obviously decided to go for a swim. I do not blame him. At all.
Eventually, I made my way to get the measurements. I am drenched to the bone; my jeans are chaffing me at my every move. I unbutton them and let my pubes breathe and then let my zipper slide down just a bit. It feels good to let the boys breathe.
It is not going to be a bad job; it will be a relatively simple one.
I see Bob as he swims in the pool, I am envious. I could go for a dip myself.
Is he naked? I think to myself. Is he?
I made my way to the ladder, wanting and needing to get down. The heat from the roof is unbearable. Bob jumps out of the pool, bare-assed, he is naked, and comes running to hold the ladder steady for me. I did not expect that, but he did say he stays naked out here in our talk earlier. But he had said it so fast I was not sure I’d heard him correctly. It is not as if I have not seen naked men before, I see them when I work out at the gym, in the locker-room. I saw them in college and in high school when I played football. Its not a fucking big deal.
I make my way down, careful not to fall as my hands and body are wet from the sweat as it compromises my grip. I touch the ground and turn to see Bob in all his glory.
"Dave, sorry man but I had to take a swim. " He says. "I hope you are not offended. I see you got hot up there on the roof, yourself."
I think he noticed that my jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped, now. I look down to see my pubes peeking out through the opening, the zipper had gone all the way down and my jeans were starting to fall off too. I had forgotten to re-snap and re-zip them back up before I came down from the roof. Oh well, this job is over now before I can even give him the estimate total. I think to myself.
"Naw." I say. "It’s okay, the pool sure does look good, though."
"It is. You wanna take a swim?" He asks. “Go ahead.”
I ponder for a moment, but only for a moment.
"Yeah, a swim would be nice."
We make our way over to the side of his pool.
Me. I am barely able to hold up my falling pants as I walk.
I am desperately trying not to trip over them, while holding the clipboard in my hand too as I make my way to the chairs by the pool.
I am failing at this task, miserably.
I can feel the warm southern air blow over my pubes because as I begin to sit, the jeans fall to my ankles in a crumpled heap. I plop my naked ass down on a lounge chair and proceed to remove them. Bob looks over at me. And smiles, then takes a dive into the pool and disappears underneath the water to re-emerge in the deep end. I take my boots and socks off then stand up and shimmy out of my sweat soaked jeans and throw my ball cap onto the heap. The air feels good on my pubes and my naked body.
I fondle myself, freeing my cock from the wet confines of the sweaty pubes. I stiffen up a little, not to a full hard-on but I am noticeable. It feels good.
"Feel better?" I hear from the pool.
I had forgotten about Bob. For the moment. I was just happy to be out of those sweat-soaked confining clothes.
Here I am, naked and semi-hard at a potential client's house.
"Yeah, I do." I answer.
This was a first for me. Maybe I had not blown this job because of this little stunt. I hope not.
What the hell, I thought to myself and dived into the pool.
I will deal with it. It is hot. And I need to cool off.
-2-
"Damn, the water feels good.” I shout out as I break the liquid surface and find myself in the deep end of the pool.
"It sure does." Bob says. "It was one of the best improvements I made when I had it installed, speaking of improvements. Do you have a rough estimate for the roof in your head, as to what the cost of a new roof would be?"
Bob is now sitting in a lounge chair, opposite me. His legs spread, his cock, flaccid, his balls, hanging low, not in the least bothered by his displayed manhood, asking me a serious question. There is a puddle of sweat underneath him in the chair as his body is losing its moisture from the sun raining down upon him. Upon us.
I cannot look away. Honesty depends on eye-to-eye contact, but my eyes are diverted elsewhere.
I hesitate. I was not expecting this question so soon. I am at a loss; my professionalism is going down the preverbal drain. Because I am swimming naked in his pool, and he has even seen me sprout a partial woody.
Who is at the advantage here?
I told him what I had roughly worked out in my head in the minutes from my departure from the roof to my resurfacing naked in his pool.
He says nothing. I see the brain working, mentally running through the numbers in his checkbook. I need this job, I really do.
"So, when can you start?" He says finally.
I am relieved. Overjoyed. I got the job for my little piss-ant roofing company. I try to hold back my excitement on my face, but I feel my cock stiffen, work tends to give me a hard-on or thoughts of work, do. Exertion. Power. Displays of my ability, it excites me to do my job and other things too.
"As soon as we can get the supplies." I say. "We can start."
"Good. Good." A calm Bob says.
Bob starts to fondle his balls. His cock reacts to this playing.
"It sure is hot." He says, as his cock slowly begins to harden.
"I am really glad you decided to swim, Dave. " He says. "Your attitude made my decision easier to decide."
"What do you mean?" I ask, as I am caught off guard by the comment.
“Other people have been out to the house to give me an estimate." He says. "I behaved in the same manner I have with you, but those men reacted differently. It affected my decision on whether I should hire them."
"Oh!" I say.
"Oh, is right." He says. "I am not ashamed of who I am, and I make no apologies for it. At my house, I have rules for the men that visit."
"Rules? " I ask. “What kind of rules?”
"Yes." He says. "They are unwritten but the men that I know, know them, respect them and even come to embrace them, if they are open and are willing enough to listen."
"Give me an example." I ask.
"Well, you know one already." He says.
"I do."
"Yes, being naked, I ask that every man be naked while they are here. Many of us want to be but have no place to be, such is not the case at my house. If you are legally a man over the age of eighteen, you will be naked at my house." Bob says sternly and authoritatively. He means it.
"I cannot say all my guys will go for that." I say.
"I am not talking about the casual visitors like your roofing crew." He says. "I respect the work and the workman but if after the job is done, they are free to be naked, if they are so inclined."
"Oh, okay." I say.
I see only one man on my crew not interested but he is not interested in much of anything bedsides a cold beer and a TV set with a football game on it. But I say nothing to Bob about this.
"What made you decide to get naked?" He asks. "If you do not mind asking you."
"Honestly." I say without a hint of hesitation. "I was fucking hot; my cock and balls were chaffing me in my jeans. I wanted out of those damn jeans."
I chuckle as I say this.
"Amen! Amen!" Bob says.
We both laugh. The tension is broken on what some might consider an awkward situation but what some others might consider a male bonding moment. As I suspect more men would prefer to be, naked, than clothed any day of the week but society has dictated some social norms that some guys agree with, some reluctantly.
Bob continues to fondle his cock, unashamedly in front of me.
"You said rules, what are the other ones?" I ask.
"Well, if your cock gets hard." He says. "So, what. So, the fuck, what. If you want to stroke it and cum. Cum. Spew your juice everywhere. I do not care. Bust your load for all to see. We are men, after all. It is what we do…if given the chance. And the more people who see us do it. The better."
Now this one surprises me but not really, as he has no problem demonstrating the point in front of me as we talk. Yes, when a man is naked, his cock will harden, it happens. If you are a younger man, all it takes is a gust of wind. Yes, I jacked off with a few buddies back when I was growing up, it was not a regular thing, but it happened. We were getting to know our bodies, men, and women both do this. Many guys did but they deny they still jack their cocks, as they grow older. I find it hard to believe they would do so openly here at Bob’s.
"I see by the look on your face." He says. "You are shocked."
I guess my facial expression betrayed me. I did grimace at the mention of the jacking off if the need arose. And in front of other men. But we would do it. Men are nothing but show-offs. And showing our cocks is part of it.
"No, I am not shocked." I say. "But most guys deny they even jack off now-a-days."
"True." He says. "And why is that? You know they do it, despite the denials."
"I guess all those messages we are told about how wrong it is." I say. "In church."
"Exactly." He says. "And what is wrong with it?"
"Nothing." I say. “Nothing at all.”
There is nothing wrong with it. It is part of a healthy self-image and a healthy body.
"So, how many men have jacked-off here at your house Bob?" I ask.
"Well, I have get-togethers of about four to five men, especially for male bonding." He says. "There is a mixture of men; straight, gay, bi-sexual and curious, various body types and ages, you do not have to participate. It is your choice. I have yet to have no one not participate. Once the guy realizes he is in a safe environment. He is fine."
He says this in a bragging tone, he is quite proud of what it.
"Oh." I say, questionably.
I find this hard to believe but I will take Bob at his word. I do not want to call him a liar and do not want to lose this roofing job.
"So, what is the deal when women visit?" I ask.
"The men are clothed, the women too." He says. "This is strictly when the company is all men. All males."
"Oh. Okay." I say. "I can live with that, so what exactly do y'all do?"
"We workout." He says as he points to the weights and weight bench under the shed. "Some wrestle, sometimes football games are on television, bar-be-que, it just depends on what is planned, or we just have a spontaneous get-together, where we just have fun. A lot of raunchy fun."
"Fun?" I ask quiz-ably, I think I know but I want verification. I play dumb.
"We have group circle jerks or a group fuck." He says, matter-a-fact-like.
"Oh!" I say. I am at a loss for words. 'Oh' is the best I can muster at the mention of a ‘group fuck.’ But I am intrigued.
As we are talking. Bob's cock continues to harden. The fondling has reached its zenith, he is at his full mast. He has been steadily fondling himself in front of me. I did notice, I could not help but notice, considering the subject matter, he did sound like it turned him on. I am still in the pool, my body exposed only from the waist up, but I am hard as a rock myself. I am intrigued. I admit. It does have a certain appeal, this whole thing.
Most men are not shy around each in the locker rooms, or in the dorm rooms, or the frat houses or even in the roommate situations, of course, or any of the other myriad situations where more than one man is in a shared environment. There are always a few who do not go along but those are the ones that believe the bullshit that has been shoveled at them.
"Look at me!" Bob says. "My cock is hard, and it seems you are too, Dave. Aren’t you?"
He is being coy, playing his game. I think he is testing the waters, seeing how I would react or not react and how far I will go. I will play his little game, willingly. He is seeing if I am game.
"I am." I say. I own up to it. His little story of bravado has me interested. And intrigued.
Bob leans back in the lounge chair, taking spittle from his mouth and mixing it with the abundance of his leaking pre-cum. He proceeds to stroke his cock, unabashed and unashamed. He is showing me that he abides by his own rules of his house.
I walk to the steps, in the shallow end, and emerge from the water. Each step takes me out of the water. The water streamed off me as I rose higher and higher out of its depths.
"You have a really nice cock, Dave." Bob says as he looks at me and my hardness. He strokes harder. And harder.
I walk by him in the chair. I do not touch myself. I let him revel in my manhood. I am not ashamed either. I am proud too. As a man I am proud of my cock.
I sit down in a chair, next to him. Lean back and gather spittle and mix it with my own juices. I join Bob in this male rite that we both are a party too.
We join in unison as we stroke our respective cocks. Glancing at each other, moans escaping from our mouths, caught up in the moment of our glorified man-hoods. We tease and taunt each other, our squeals of ecstasy, not fake or unnecessarily prolonged but real. Really real.
Bob stops and watches me stroke. My cockhead is swollen to its fullest. His too. Does he want me to cum first? Does he want to see the white spunk cover my chest and my pubes? And possibly shoot myself in the face with my pent-up juices?
I do not want to be the first to cum. Like any man, I thrive in the competition. This is one game that I would like to win. So, I quit stroking and let my body come down from the high it is experiencing.
He sees what I am doing. I can tell it in his eyes. This is not the first engagement of this sort he has been involved in. He licks his lips. There is spittle in his goatee. His manhood thrust forward in front of him and is shining in the afternoon sun. He resumes his stoking.
We are both drenched in sweat, our bodies producing a steady stream of it as it runs like tiny creeks off our bodies on this scorcher of a day.
I resume my stroking too, keeping time with Bob as he strokes his cock.
Bob stands and walks to the edge of the pool.
I stand up. The power of who I am being centered in the glorious appendage between my two muscled legs, thrust out from my body in all its might. I am proud.
I join him at the poolside. We increase the intensity of our strokes.
I can hold back no longer. He is nearing release. As am I.
I can feel the cum rising up in my balls, making its way out. The sensation is mind-blowing, pure unbridled ecstasy. I can feel my face redden, my blood pressure changing. I am man and here is the proof.
My cum. My man-juice. My spunk. My seed. The other best part of me that I can give to the world explodes from cock. Like a rocket lifting off from its launch pad.
We both cum together. And scream out in our animalistic way.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
Each outburst unleashes more from our pent-up balls.
Our cum mingles with the chlorinated water in white snake-like strings. The sperm is swimming with no destination or purpose except to just be there. And represent who we are.
Bob dives in. And I follow. Our cum washes over us.
-3-
Saturday. At The Gathering.
Bob called me while I was at Rick's apartment. He had managed to get my cell phone number, but I do not know how. He said not to tell Rick it was him on the phone. I told him I would not. He has invited me to one of his shindigs. Which he calls 'the gathering.' Rick has been to these events. He bragged about it to me, on occasion. I am a ‘the gathering’ virgin.
I am on my way. Alone. As he said I should be.
It is a nice place. Bob's house. Secluded. A place to get naked in the great southern outdoors. I like it. A lot.
The drive up the oak-canopied road, County Road 125, to his house. The same picturesque and serene sight as it was that morning, Rick and I left after our little tryst with Bob in the bedroom. Nothing had changed.
Bob passed me a note, that morning, tucked away in a pocket of my shorts. It said I was welcome to return. Anytime. And to do more, perhaps this is what he meant by what was written.
I have not had a chance to return. Until now.
I expect it is more like ‘to cum’ back to his house which I am sure I will be doing so today. More than once.
As I drive the roads. I expect to see deer, opossum, and squirrels running about, maybe even a panther, even an array of birds as I travel this back road. There is some beautiful wildlife in this part of the world. The wild animal activity I see now will in no way compared to the 'wild' beast of men I am told to expect at this 'gathering.' Rick had told me to expect anything. I know I can handle it. I will.
Bob insisted that I come (or is that 'cum'), on the cell. Even though Rick could not, I do not have to do anything if I do not want to, Bob said. It is solely up to me. I am curious. I admit. So, I took the plunge, headfirst to see if the stories Bob and Rick are true.
As I take a bend in the road, I am suddenly engulfed in a cloud of red dust. There is a truck in front of me and I am caught up in its dust trail. I tap the brake and slow down a bit as I almost hit its rear bumper. I back off a bit and let the dust clear from the road in front of me. I was caught up in my daydream of Rick and my fucking that I should have been paying closer attention. But Rick’s ass takes all my cock whenever I fuck him. And lately I have been fucking him, every day.
I make my way once I can see. The truck is parking on the road next to Bob's driveway, another guest.
As I got closer, I recognized the driver, but I do not remember his name.
It is a G & C Engineering truck from town, it is one of their survey guys. I know some of those men. Grew up with one or two of them.
The driver waves to me as he gets out of the truck. I am still too far away to make out who the man is that is waving. I wave and smile back. He is shirtless, and in shorts, boots, ball cap, dressed much the same as I am. He is muscled, hairy, much like me, but slightly older. I suspect when I get his age, I will look like him too.
I took my shirt off the minute I got on the highway to drive here from Rick's apartment. It is summer and I rarely wear a shirt when I am out.
"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" I think to myself, as I get a closer look at the man. I do know him. I do. He brought the other guy he works with too. I know that guy too.
"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" I mumble again under my breath.
Should I leave?
I thought I would be anonymous and that I would not know anyone.
I stopped my truck as the guy from G & C Engineering motioned me to stop. He leans into my window and asks me a question.
"Hey man." He asks. "Don't I know you?"
"Yeah, I'm Phillip." I say. "We did that job across town together. You guys did the surveying for it. You had to stake out the building for us, so we could pour the foundation and then frame it."
He gives me the once over with his roving eyes, paying extra special attention to my growing bulge. My legs are spread wide, which makes the bulge more obvious.
"I'm Nate, remember?” He says. "And that's Paul."
He gestures to the guy who is standing on the opposite side of the truck at the passenger door.
"It's nice to see you again, Phillip." Paul says to me. "I thought I recognized you when I saw your truck."
"You too." I say. "I guess y'all finished that job?"
"Month's ago." Nate says. "Why doncha park, so we can talk and walk up to the house together. Bob must be wondering where we all are. We did the final survey after y'all finished with the construction. It was a bitch."
"Sure. Sure." I say. "Let me park behind that car."
"Okay." They both say as I drive down a bit, turn, and park behind the car.
I see two other trucks, besides the one they are in, parked on the road.
I expected trucks, as this is the country, the guys here could not survive without their pick-ups on their farms and jobs. It is a rite of passage for a teenage boy to pass into manhood with his first truck. The girls love it and the guy’s love showing off with arrogant bravado. The gun racks in the back windows and the condom boxes in the glove compartments. It is about the manhood in the south. You are expected to fuck the moment you know how and then be chastised from the pulpit for doing it, it is good ole southern hypocrisy at its finest.
I lost my virginity at eighteen to one of the cheerleaders, in my senior year of high school in the bed of my pick-up after a rowdy Friday night football game. I scored more than one touchdown that night. I came twice and she wanted more. Much more of me. She had been pining after me for years. My buds thought I had fucked her long before I actually did but I had not. I had lied. I could not be the last one to lose my cherry, but I was. I was. But they had no reason to know it.
I park behind the black Benz with the license plate that reads. STUD1.
I laugh to myself. Someone seems mighty confident. I wonder what this clown looks like to proclaim himself to be such a stud.
Another truck with a magnetic logo sticker on the side door panel says. Dave Stevens Roofing catches my attention. I guess Bob knows many guys in the area who want to get naked and cannot be at home for the fear of their bitchy spouse.
The last truck is Bob's. I recognize it. I parked behind it the night Rick first brought me here. I wonder how many men are here.
I guess there is going to be a quite a bit of cocks on display and some jovial male bonding and one-upmanship, as when men get together there is much bravado and chest pounding to be the dominant male among the pack.
I guess I am going to be surprised but that is why I am here. What can be said by them that cannot be said by me if my secret gets out.
I get out of my truck and meet up with Nate and Paul. We all shake hands. It starts.
It is something we do. Our dads would kill us if we did not give each a proper and firm handshake. Although I am not sure, where cock etiquette ranks alongside a firm handshake, but these are different times.
We are all shirtless, in shorts and wearing our work boots, baseball caps, just like any day on the job but we are not on the job. This is our everyday wear.
I relax. Here goes nothing or everything as I think to myself. We make our way to the front door, where Bob has placed a sign:
Cum around to the back yard. And let the fun begin.
Bob
It had a smiley face winking on the lower right corner of the message.
The three of us, pass between some hedges and emerge in the backyard amid the sound of low playing music and of three naked men. Bob, I recognize but the other two, I do not.
Bob walks towards us, his cock flopping back and forth across his groin as he greets us. The pre-cum leaking in strings across the air as he made his way to us.
"Well, everybody finally here." Bob says. "Get naked and have some fucking fun, fellas!"
Bob hugs each of us while he fiercely gropes our packaged bulges. No one complains as he does this. We are already hard inside our shorts.
"Ah, the younger cocks." Bob says. "Have arrived."
Nate kisses Bob on the lips. It is not a passionate lip-lock just a friendly peck among friends, I assume. Paul and I just said 'hello,' we did not get the kiss.
"Bob, this is my friend, Paul." Nate says. "The guy from work, I told you about."
"Nice to meet you, Paul." Bob says. "C'mon guys get yourself naked. Get those clothes off and get those beautiful cocks out."
We make our way to the patio and drop what remaining clothes we are wearing, into the pile of those already discarded by the others.
Nate is wearing a silver cock-ring. His cock is sticking out from a plush patch of furry pubes. The man's cock is nice, when he pulled his shorts off, his cock bounced off his lower abdomen, spewing pre-cum onto his 'happy trail,' the moment it was freed from its confines.
"Here, Paul, I brought you a cock-ring." Nate says to Paul while he throws him a heavy black rubber ring.
"Thanks." Paul says. "But I do not think I need it."
"Just put it on." Nate says. "Showcase that glorious meat in all its glory."
Paul slides the rubber ring over his slowly emerging hard-on.
"I do not have another one, Phillip, sorry." Nate says to me. "Maybe Bob has one for you to use."
I feel my cock begin to stiffen in my shorts right before I shuck them. As they fall, my cock is hardening while the last vestiges of my clothes hit the tiled patio of the pool.
"Nice cock, man. Really nice. "Nate says. "I figured you had a nice one. Your bulge filled out those shorts really good. Damn good."
He places his two fingers in his mouth. Wets them and begins to fondle my swelling cock with his spittle. Paying attention to my blooming red cockhead.
I start leaking cum the moment he touched me.
"A real nice cock." Nate says to me as his continues to massage my cockhead while we are standing there.
He takes some of my cum into his mouth. Licks his fingers clean. Re-wets them. Before he resumes his play. Never asking if he could fondle my cock. I do not tell him to stop. I look up to see the other four guys watching us as he strokes my cockhead.
Bob is stroking his cock too, slowly.
Paul, Nate's friend, is stroking his cock and gazing intently at us.
The other two guys, who I have yet to meet, are caught up in my exhibitionistic display too.
One of the guys, muscled with little to no body hair. His hand is gently stroking his rapidly growing cock.
Another guy, wearing a blue baseball cap, with the same logo I saw on the roofing business truck his cock is hard, but he is just watching. At what is happening, but he is not stroking his growing hard-on. He is just caught up in the moment of my show with Nate.
"Damn, I like when we get together." Bob suddenly interjects. "But let’s save the cum for later. Let it build, guys. Let it build up. I knew once Nate got here, the party would begin. And it has."
"Okay. Okay." Nate says, nonchalantly, as he takes his hand off my swelled cock and leans down and takes it into his mouth and sucks it for a second. "Now that is tasty. Really tasty."
"You say that every time you suck a man’s cock." Paul says. “Every time.”
"Because it's true." Nate says. "All hard, cum leaking cocks are tasty. I said that after I sucked yours the first time, remember?"
"Oh shit!" I say, after he has lifted his head from my cock. "That felt so fucking good."
“I am not done.” Nate says. “I want more of that piece.”
He and Paul, walk away after his short suck-tease on my cock. Their dicks, in cock-ringed hardness, are jutting out from their thighs in all their male splendor.
"Who wants to work out?" Nate shouts out from 'the shed.' While he fondles his cock in the bright Saturday afternoon sun, on this hot summer afternoon, not the least bit put off by his display.
Bob comes from where he was standing in the grass and walks up to me.
"Told ya, you'd have a good time." Bob says. "Let me introduce you to everyone, Phillip. They’ll be more than happy to meet you, I am sure. Most definitely."
"Kinda reminds me of when I met you." I say.
"Yep, I saw your cock and wanted it in that minute." Bob says. "Hell, look at it, it is a prime piece of meat, who would not want it?"
He takes me to meet the other guys, the one lacking chest and pubic hair unlike the rest of us, really stands out, his difference is noticeable.
"Phillip, this is my good friend, Wade," Bob says.
I shake hands with Wade.
"Nice to meet you, Phillip." Wade says, "You have quite the cock on you, buddy."
"Thanks." I say.
Wade reaches for my cock, without even asking if he could. I am leaking pre-cum like a fountain since Nate had briefly suckled me, he takes the tip of his finger, runs it across my swelled cockhead, gathers drops of my pre-cum with his fingertip, and places it in his mouth, just like Nate did. His Adam's apple rolls as he swallows the drops of my pre-cum.
"Nate was right." He says. "You are tasty."
"Wade is a paid escort. The man knows some notable people and has fucked most of them, but I doubt he will name names." Bob says. "He also works for the Road Department, a man with an array of talents."
"Let's just keep that between us, Phillip, okay?" Wade says. "Bob, you are gonna make me blush."
"Sure." I answer. "My lips are sealed."
"Not for long." He says. "If you stay here this afternoon."
"I doubt you will blush Wade." Bob says. "I've seen pics of your work; you have nothing to blush about."
Bob and Wade laugh, apparently, I miss the inside joke between them.
Wade grabs my balls and grips me tightly with his deft fingers.
"If we do not get to play today." Wade says. "I will come to visit you under special consideration.”
Wade says with a wink. And a nod. His intentions I clearly grasp.
"Okay." I say, I do not know what else to say. I was right; STUD1 is confident, obnoxiously confident. The black Benz parked on the road is most definitely his. I laugh to myself. He thinks he is some piece of hot shit. I'd fuck him though. Let a real man loosen up that ass not some suit-wearing politician, as I am sure he has had up inside his ass.
He releases my cock. It hits me in the lower stomach from the recoil from his tight grip. I am harder now than what I was from the pressure applied to my cock.
Wade is shaved. There are some very fine hairs growing on his chest, but he appears to have shaved those days ago. He is a pretty boy. I never understood a guy who shaves off what makes him a man. His balls are clean too, like a baby's butt, not a lick of hair on’em. Everyone else has bushy pubes and unshaven balls, as most men do in the rural areas of Florida and Georgia do. I guess he thinks he is the ‘Top Cock of the Walk’ I am sure me and some of the other guys here can match him fuck-for-fuck on any day of the week.
The other guy walks up, the blue baseball cap with the logo on it guy.
"Hi, I'm Dave." He says.
"Hi, Dave." I say. "As in Dave Stevens Roofing?"
"One and the same" he says. "Yeah, man, you've got quite a cock there. You must get plenty of pussy with that thing."
"I do alright." I say.
But I am not getting any pussy today. I am after ass, man-ass. I think to myself.
Does he know there are no women here? Or is he that clueless? Not a pussy about. None to see.
"Dave is the only straight guy here today." Bob says, "This is his first time at a 'gathering,' he just finished re-doing my roof about a month ago."
"Yep, I am the token straight guy. "Dave says. "But the way Bob described these meetings, I was intrigued."
"Not meetings, 'gatherings,' there is a difference." Bob says. "You will see in a bit."
"Okay." Dave says, "I am counting on it.
"Let's go workout with Nate and Paul." Bob says. "We need to get powered up for the real workout that is to come later."
All four of us walk from the openness of the backyard to one of the outbuildings, 'the shed,' by the pool.
You can hear Nate and Paul straining in loud audible noises, their grunts and groans get louder as we get closer.
In the 'shed', we see Nate sucking on the swelled cock of Paul as he lifts a bar with weights while lying back on the bench.
"So, I guess the straining we heard was not from the lifting but from the sucking?" Bob says. "Huh, Nate."
Nate looks up, from the feasting on his co-workers swelled tool, and smiles at the four of us as we stand with our mouths agape.
We stand gazing, in awe, at the spectacle of these two hot and hairy-muscled men as they show us some men are not afraid to cross over into the hairy balls and stiff cocks of man-to-man sex. Each enjoying the masculine attributes of the other, while they know some women fawn and coo over them when given the chance, thinking their man is only interested in their pussies, when in truth these two men enjoy the sexual pleasures of each other and are still the men that the world perceives them to be. Both men are bi-sexual and enjoy the bodies and sex of both genders.
"Hey guys." Nate says, as he wipes the essence of Paul from his chin. "You wanna workout?"
"Yeah." We all say in unison.
"No cumming though, guys." Bob says. “No one can unload their balls just yet.”
"I have not shot my load, Bob, I promise." Paul says, playfully. "Even though Nate tried. I hear you have something special planned for the lot of us."
"I do." Bob says. "But let's get in a workout, first."
We are all sporting massive erections between our legs. And each proud to have them before the other men gathered.
Each man looking at the other, sizing up the competition, evaluating whom among the men is their rightful challenger, among the six.
Nate's hard 10-inch engorged cock is nestled in a mass of dark blondish-brown furry curls with a silver cock-ring, which is getting constant fondling and cum spread over the enlarged blood-filled cockhead by his fingers.
Paul's 8-inch hard cock, emerging tower-like from its dark fluffy patch of pubes, is dripping pre-cum as he lays back on the bench, legs resting on either side, the saliva from his co-worker, Nate, and his own cum, drips and glistens in the Florida sunlight, which he is happily using to stroke it.
Bob, the host and resident ‘daddy,’ his cock, 9-inches of hard man-meat, pointing outward from his dark furry pubes, further displayed by the massive cock-ring he proudly wears is all a glee as the men he is brought together for his 'gathering' smiles happily at his handiwork. He knows the right men are here for this particular 'gathering.'
Wade, the nearly hairless ‘hired cocksucker’ with his shaved balls and ample piece of man sausage, his cock long and lean, smiles because he knows what games await. He is proudly displaying his 10-inch man-flesh and not the least bit taken aback at his difference. Maybe that is why Bob invited him. His diversity in manhood and body is a welcomed sight, if he were not so full of himself, I would fuck him, right here, right now but I will not, that is what he wants but I will take him up on his offer later.
I laugh to myself.
Dave, the straight guy, supposedly, although not embarrassed to be among men who are either gay or bi-sexual, sprouting a proud dark hair encased woody of an 8-inch proportion among his unshaven pubes and balls. A real rough and tumble man, not afraid of what may happen in the company of queers or almost queers.
And Me, Phillip, the 23-year-old stud, cock in measure with the men around me, 9-inches of proud manhood, girthy, and nestled in a proud nest of hairy pubes and unshaved balls, having just recently learned that fucking a tight man-ass and enjoying it, is just as good or better than any pussy.
These men from in their 20s to the 40s are enjoying the male bonding of hard cocks and showing off their prowess as men among their fellow man and not ashamed.
"Who wants the weight bench?" Nate says, as Paul rises and offers it to any among us.
Nate had risen from his knee and watched me as I walked towards the bench.
I lay down as Paul assumes the spotter position, his balls dangling in front of my face as I grasp the bar and do a few lifts.
"Quite an impressive cock." Nate says. “Quite impressive.”
"I agree." Wade, pipes in, as he approaches me, grasp my hard erect member, and wipes the cum from leaking cock and places it in his mouth.
I shudder as his finger delicately rides over my swelled cockhead.
I nearly lost my grip on the weight bar, but I continued with my reps, undaunted.
"Hey guys, be careful, "Paul says, "The guy is lifting, do not distract him."
"Thanks, Paul but staring up at your hairy ass and cock while I lift is distracting enough."
We laugh, all six of us.
"But I like what I see." I say. “A lot.
To be continued…
