Getting Wood

 

 

Joe's blue eyes blazed back at him in the rear-view mirror of his truck. He watched as they narrowed slightly in response to his hand working his hardon through his red sweats. Fuck, am I tented, he thought, stroking himself absent-mindedly even though he wanted to enter the store and cruise for guys so someone else could take care of that for him. The sweats were rough against his callused fingers and his cock, which pulsed dully. I might not meet anyone today, so maybe I should just jack here and get it over with. The last few times he'd visited had been lame, and he didn't want to waste time while his wife was working. Raising his hand from his cock, he rubbed his fingers against his stache and goatee and inhaled. The smell of sex, musky and animal, filled his nose and made him even hornier. Sun caught the gold of his wedding band and shot it into his eyes. His ass clenched against the seat as he throbbed in his hand. He was so hard. All around him were cars and trucks glinting in the late-summer light, lined in tight rows in the parking lot. Motion caught his eye, and he leaned forward to scope out a very handsome man leaving another pickup truck and striding toward the entrance. Okay, he thought, time to deflate. I can get hard again later, and hopefully in good company. He put his mind to work, and with eyes closed and head tilted back, he conjured up visions of nuns who had terrorized him in grade school and then the Virgin Mary, both of which succeeded in bringing his cock back down to public-display level. Still, he never wore underwear while cruising the store, and the ridge of his cockhead was showing through the fabric. Just a shadow, just a promise, and he hoped someone would take him up on it today. It had been weeks since he'd gotten a man.

Hopping out of the truck, he closed the door and strode across the pavement to the automatic door. Inside, the ceiling rose far overhead with its support beams and lights and security devices, and the shelves stretched nearly high enough to touch it. Cashiers passed items over the counters as their registers beeped and folks waited in line for their turn. It was just past one in the afternoon, so the lines weren't too long. Not many people here at this hour, which was fine by Joe because he wasn't looking for a crowd anyway. He turned right and craned his neck to survey down the aisles as he passed them.

Direct hit, he said to himself, grinning a little. That guy by the plywood looks pretty interesting. His sneakers made no sound as he turned and walked down toward him, the hair on his legs sticking to the sweats. He could feel his cock starting to stiffen against the rough fabric, and he let it remain swollen as he neared his destination. The man was looking better and better the closer he got: broad shoulders, face bristling with stubble, reddish-blonde hair, great legs below his shorts. Probably had a nice ass just begging to get plowed, too. Joe hadn't fucked another man in months, and thinking about it made him crazy. A USMC tattoo flashed on the guy's triceps as he reached up for something, and then Joe was in his sights. He'd been staring too long, maybe. There are two ways a man can look another man in the eyes under these circumstances, and this wasn't the look Joe had been hoping for.

"Max?" asked Joe uncertainly, falling back on one of his favorite evasive tactics.

"Nope, name's not Max. Sorry," said the redhead, lowering his gaze and going back to what he had been doing. Joe moved past him and continued his quest. Someone must be mixing paint, it reeks here. Sure enough, a pimply teenager was getting just the right shade of mauve for a woman with a face like a cheap Mexican wallet framed by dyed-straw-yellow hair down the next aisle. Moving along, Joe feigned interest in oil additives and batteries in the automotive department. Nothing. Another lame day, another jackoff session at home. But he'd had a feeling about the plywood aisle. His hunches were usually right. After a few more minutes dawdling in the toy department making notes of what his son might want for Christmas this year, he turned around and returned to the scene of his previous encounter.

The Marine had left, and no one else was around, so Joe scratched his chest and played with his right nipple through his white T-shirt a little to get his dick harder against his sweats and waited. He moved up and down the shelves, lifting his gaze lower and then higher, searching for the perfect plywood prop for him. The management had been kind enough to leave a ladder in the aisle, which might come in handy later. Thoughtful of them.

His peripheral vision registered motion. Pay dirt. In his thirties, about my age, nice build, niiiiice fucking basket in those jeans. A man with black hair and a thick stache had just entered the aisle and was also surveying the plywood. Fur erupted from the neck of his T-shirt and covered his arms. Thick features and great eyebrows. His calves looked like softballs through his jeans. He must work out a lot. Joe could feel his dick responding again and looked down to the new arrival's boots so as not to get caught staring again, keeping him in his sight enough to see what he was doing and where he was looking. He was looking at Joe. Then back to the wood. Disembodied voices mumbled and slurred over the intercom.

"Say, can you give me a hand for a second?" asked Joe, looking right at the stranger.

"Um, sure," he replied. Joe caught him looking down from his face for just a second. He's checking out my crotch. Good deal. He smiled at the guy and pointed up.

"I need to get a piece of plywood from waaay up there, man, and I don't trust these ladders for shit. Would you hold on while I climb up?"

"I don't blame ya!" laughed the stranger. "You'd think they wouldn't have these out anyways. Fuckin' lawsuit-crazy people'd be having a field day." He grinned at Joe, one bright eye creasing in a half-wink, and grabbed the ladder. "Go for it, man."

"Okay, thanks." Joe didn't climb as far as he might have indicated he needed to. Right here, he thought. His ass was right in the guy's face, where he wanted it, and he stretched up to reach for a sheet, enough so that his T-shirt lifted out of his sweats to expose the dark tuft of fur at the base of his spine. I want him to smell how horny I am.

"Damn," grunted Joe, "these things aren't heavy but they sure are awkward. Tell you what, I'm going to lift this down and maybe you can grab it while I take the far end?"

"No problem," answered the helpful stranger. Joe brought the sheet down and lowered himself with it, backing into the guy while reaching up to fasten on the other side of it. Hot breath on his neck for a second made him a little dizzy.

Joe turned around and smiled once more. "Thanks, I'm much obliged. Joe," he offered, taking his grip off the plywood and motioning for a handshake.

"Mick. Pleased to meet you, Joe." His hand was hard and strong as he clasped Joe's, and his black stache made his teeth gleam all the whiter as he smiled back. "Need any help getting this to checkout?"

This is good. Very good. "Yeah, I sure could!" Joe lifted up the front and Mick grabbed the back end of the plywood. Together they filed down the aisle, with Joe checking around corners now and then to make sure that some other customer wouldn't run right into them. At length they found their way to an open register, and Joe paid for the unneeded but very necessary wood. Now for the fun part. He walked a few paces from the checkout counter and turned around to regard Mick, who was looking right at him.

"I hate to ask, but could you help me out to my truck with this?"

Mick showed his teeth again. "I figured you'd be asking. Sure," he replied, seizing his end once again and lifting it well off the ground. Joe liked how his muscles played under that black hair. His excitement was hard to mask at times like this, and he was glad that having his back turned to Mick made silence easy to maintain as they exited the store and approached the pickup.

"Yeah, right in there," coached Joe as Mick hoisted even higher and the wood finally rested in the back. "Thanks, Mick." Now the really fun part.

"Sure, you bet." Mick just stood there. Gee, didn't he have something he needed to buy? Joe tried to keep from grinning but let his lips part anyway. He won't know what's so funny, why not.

"It's gonna be hot today," observed Joe. His dick had to be visible by now. He wanted this hairy fucker. Bad. He couldn't quite tell what the deal was yet though. "Are you busy? I'd love to offer you a beer back at my place for helping me out."

Lowering his head slightly, Mick said, "'Gonna be'? It already is. And I never pass up a beer if it's offered. I'd take you up on that. Let me follow you in my car, okay?"

"Sounds good, man. It's not too far." Joe opened the door to his truck and hoped he'd sounded nonchalant enough. Don't want to appear to eager. The guy could just be real simpatico and not interested in sex. It's happened before. The instant his ass hit the seat, his cock sprang to life, stretching his sweats like a circus pole. He clutched himself and moaned a little. Man, I sure as fuck hope he wants it. I'd love to plow that ass. Nothing like getting a big meaty guy like that on his back begging for it like a bitch. Turning the key, he took a deep breath and started edging out of his parking space just as a smaller car whizzed past, nearly clipping him. Asshole. When the aisle was clear, he pulled out all the way and drove forward. Mick was waiting for him in a green Caddy and pulled behind him as he passed. On the radio the Rolling Stones urged someone, anyone, to start them up as Joe drove the ten or so blocks from the store to his home, a one-story ranch with a carport and a sizeable yard with trees casting huge shadows on the lawn in the afternoon sun. He pulled in the driveway, and Mick parked on the street in front. Looks like he knows the drill. He must know that a wedding ring usually means two cars. He snickered to himself as Mick climbed out of the car and headed up the driveway toward him through the humid, lily-scented air.

"Nice place, man. I've been looking for someplace like this myself."

"Thanks. C'mon inside and let me give you the tour, not that it's a big one."

"Don't know about that," muttered Mick, keeping his eyes on the gutters and away from Joe, who opened the door. Last night's spaghetti dinner still hung in the air inside. Mick politely regarded everything in the house that Joe pointed out and made the right comments and compliments. Returning to the living room, Mick sat down. His large frame filled the easy chair that Joe's wife's parents had given them for Christmas last year. Joe loved the way the seam on blue jeans accented the curve of a man's muscles, and Mick's were a prime example. Very, very fine. Their eyes met again after having wandered a bit.

"So...a beer?" Mick raised both eyebrows. "That tour got me thirsty."

Joe realized he'd just been standing there checking out Mick. Minus ten points for obvious interest. Hope I'm not penalized further. "Damn, it must be hot out there, my mind is fried!" he laughed in a recovery attempt. "Coming right up." He ran into the kitchen, got two beers from the fridge, and returned. Mick leaned forward to take one and opened it with a snap of his wrist. Hair poked out of his T-shirt from his armpit.

Sitting down on the couch next to the easy chair, Joe thought of what to say next.

"You from here?"

Mick took a long swig from his beer and set it down. "Yeah, at least since I was fifteen. My ex and the kids live in Morris now. It's not too far."

"Ow, sorry, man."

"Don't be. It's cool. I see the kids when I want and see the ex as little as possible."

Joe grinned. "You know, I never know what to say--every time I say 'Too bad,' the answer I get is that everything's cool, but of course I'd never have the balls to say 'Good deal.'" For some reason, he felt he'd score some psychological advantage by saying balls.

Mick reached down to scratch his. "It took some getting used to but it's okay. Nice TV you got there." He picked up his beer again and drained half of it in one gulp, then bit his lower lip absent-mindedly, keeping his eyes on Joe.

"Yeah, digital. I had to splurge. The wife insisted, and I'm glad."

"She working?"

"Yeah, she works out at a health club. I mean, she works at a health club, but she works out there, too. Part of her job."

"Damn, that must be nice," Mick chuckled. "You look like you're in damn good shape, too. Nice pec work."

"Hey, thanks man. Yeah, I get over there a lot myself." Joe could feel his hardon returning and his spine sizzling along with it. The couch against his ass and back was driving him nuts. He leaned back, knowing that his crotch would be on display, and stretched his arms back while locking eyes with Mick.

"I just work out at home--my schedule is pretty weird, so I don't want to pay money for a membership and never use it," said Mick. He also leaned back. More hair showed from under his T-shirt as it stretched over his stomach. His basket looked better than ever. Joe wanted to get on his knees and suck him off right there.

"Looks like home workouts are doing the job for you, too, bro." Joe took a long drink of beer and kept his face impassive as he waited for a good idea to spring into his head. Should I use the old porno tape routine? See if he's horny?

"Why, thanks." Mick put his beer down. "You into wrestling?"

Joe laughed again. "Oh, sure, I'll watch that stuff sometimes. The women sure are hot! Although I wonder if they were all born women sometimes. Better fuckin' biceps than mine and shit."

Mick arched an eyebrow. "No, I mean actual wrestling. For real. Greco-Roman. You into that?"

Joe's Adam's apple dove and rose. "Well...not since high school. I used to do some. I was never on a team, though, just in gym class."

"It's like swimming or riding a bike. You never forget. I was on the team in high school, and I used to do it a lot with my ex's brother, but he doesn't talk to me any more since the divorce. I was just wondering." Mick looked toward the window and then back at Joe. "You sure look like you'd be good at it. You've got a wrestler's build."

"Well, I suppose it'd be worth a try!" exclaimed Joe, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. Fucking A. "Do you think the carpet in here is good enough for a mat?"

"I guess we'll find out." Mick stood up and peeled off his T-shirt. His chest was very furry, with his nipples barely visible through the tangle, and a trail ran down his stomach to his crotch, where his hands were fumbling with his jeans button. He looked up to regard Joe staring at him.

"It's better if we strip down to our shorts. Clothes get in the way. You don't mind, right?"

"Um, hell, no, not at all, man." Joe frantically summoned up the willpower to get his cock down even though all signals pointed to imminent sex. I could be totally misreading all this, and I don't want to get my ass kicked. He looks like he could take me in a heartbeat. "I'm not wearing shorts under these sweats, though, man. Let me throw some on. I'll be right back." The Virgin Mary blessed him with detumescence once again, and without waiting for an answer, he got up to walk to his room as Mick's jeans slid down his legs to the floor. Mick was wearing black trunks. His quads were fucking amazing. Joe kept moving and got in his bedroom, taking off his shirt and the sweats. His body, hairy and strong, was tingling with desire, but he kept himself soft as he extracted some tighty whiteys from a drawer and slipped them on, one leg and then the other. He patted his ass and checked himself out in the mirror. He stuck out his tongue and ran it along his lower lips, grazing his goatee, and then tweaked a nipple, catching some fur between his fingers. Wait, don't do that, don't want to get hard again. Yet.

Joe reentered the living room to find Mick bending down to untie his bootlaces. He was in a hurry to take his jeans off, mused Joe, he forgot about those boots. Although he looks kinda hot in them.

As if reading his mind, Mick looked up a little bashfully. "Gee, it's been a while since I've wrestled...kinda got my signals crossed." Both boots now unlaced and off, he took off his socks and stood up about three feet from Joe.

"Let me get this table out of the way," suggested Joe, moving it next to the wall. A coaster fell off it and onto the floor, but he'd pick it up later. He glanced at the clock. 2:15. His wife wouldn't be home for three hours at least. I sure hope she isn't anyway, or I'll have some explaining to do for sure. "Okay. We're set."

Mick crouched down, hands out and fingers slightly bent, and Joe followed his lead. A few feints and parries led to Mick grabbing his back and sides and then his ass, bringing him down to the floor. His hands were like warm iron. Joe struggled against the larger man's moves as best he could motivate himself to. A leg wrapped around his arm, and then Mick swung himself around on top of him. Panting for breath, his mouth opened on Mick's chest and then Joe looked up to see those black trunks right above his face, those corded thighs on either side of his head. Strong hands gripped the back of his right thigh. Joe reached out for one of Mick's legs and fastened on a calf. Then they stopped moving, and as soon as the grappling stopped, Joe could feel himself stiffening. Right in Mick's face.

"Dude...guess I was right, huh." Mick's voice came from somewhere down below.

"About what?" asked Joe. His cock was now rock hard and straining against the shorts. He moaned loudly as heat and moisture enveloped it without warning, grinding into Mick's mouth as he sucked through the fabric. Joe closed his eyes and moaned again, loudly this time. Ohhhh man.

"About this, fucker," growled Mick, pulling away from Joe's dick. "I was hoping you were queer. Queer enough to wanna fuck around anyway." Mick was stroking Joe through the white shorts as he spoke. "I cruise that store all the time lately, but it's been kinda lame the past few weeks. Perhaps you've noticed. We must not have been there at the same times." He went back to sucking on Joe, slurping and murmuring, and then rotated his hips and ground his own cock against Joe's mouth. Fabric slid against his lips. He opened them and ran his tongue along the hardon under those black trunks, smelling Mick's crotch, the heat of his body making him see spots. Weight pressed on him as they rubbed into each other, muscle and hair working against muscle and hair. Joe felt hands lifting under his shorts and pulling them off, and then he groaned as his naked cock slid into Mick's warm, wet mouth. He moved his hands up and tugged on the trunks, sliding them down Mick's thick thighs. Joe lapped at Mick's balls, licking hungrily, the scent filling his nostrils, watching his cock get bigger and bigger as he kneaded his ass.

"Oh...oh man" sighed Joe as Mick stuck a finger down his crack.

"I'm gonna fuck you, man. You want that?" The finger pressed hard into him, and Mick's mouth swallowed his dick again.

"Ah!! Oohhh...Sorry, Mick, you're...talking to another top. I don't get fu--ooohhh--yeahh. Keep sucking, man."

"Well, I don't either," said Mick, taking a break from devouring Joe's dick. "Ohhh fuck, buddy." Joe had begun slobbering on Mick now, wrapping his lips around the thick shaft and taking his time at pleasuring him, moving his head up and down and from side to side, tongue tracing circles on the tip while his lips played with the shaft at the base. "I...I can't blame ya for that. Too bad though. You've got a--aaaaaaaah dude--sweet ass." Mick dove back onto Joe's dick, and the two sucked each other slowly, their hands ranging over hair and flesh and their mouths moving with deliberation, making liquid sounds mixed with muffled moans and cries. Their bodies twisted and contorted in waves of pleasure growing stronger and stronger. Joe's chest rumbled as Mick flicked the head of his cock over and over while deepthroating him, and Joe tried to copy the technique, almost gagging at Mick's sheer size. His lips were feeling heavy and energized, as though sparks were flying from them, as he worked to make Mick groan and squirm. Their noises grew loud and then soft as they gauged each other's excitement, backing down now and then to keep things going.

Suddenly Mick stopped and asked, "Sure you don't get fucked?"

"Yeah, man, I tried it and didn't like it. What, don't I give good head?"

"You sure do, babe, but I've got an idea. If you don't mind me giving orders in your living room, that is," grinned Mick, now raising himself up so that Joe could see his face again, flushed and sweaty.

"Go for it."

"Get up on that couch with your head hanging over the side. On your back."

Joe rose from the floor, his cock huge and dripping, and laid back with his corded legs up against the back of the couch, the soles of his feet pointing at the ceiling, his chest fanning out from his stomach like a manta ray.

"Like this?" Joe watched the upside-down Mick checking him out, stroking his dick and licking his lips.

"That's right, Joe. Now open that sweet mouth of yours, buddy." Mick knelt down and slid his engorged dick right down Joe's throat. His thighs and balls filled Joe's vision as he pumped deep, and then he leaned over to eat Joe. "Hold on, boy," Mick commanded as he thrust deeper and deeper.

Joe held on to Mick's thighs and ass as he spiraled into sheer pleasure, his mouth and throat full of Mick and Mick's mouth full of Joe. He could feel his toes curling and his back arching as Mick grew more frantic and insistent, moaning past Mick's cock, which was swelling against his tongue. Fire rose up from inside him and burned steadily in his dick and balls, growing hotter and brighter with every stroke. His muffled cries grew louder and fiercer; he wanted Mick to know he was close, he didn't want to cum yet, but Mick just sucked harder and sweeter. He felt himself letting go, the cells in his body raising their voices together in a chorus of orgasm. His balls clenched against him as he shot hot cum into Mick, who was pounding his balls against his goatee. Mick slurped and moaned appreciatively, slamming harder and harder until he raised his mouth from Joe to cry out and thrust all the way down his throat, filling Joe with his own juices, trembling and gasping with every pump. Joe drank deep, which was all he could do, still spinning in the aftermath. Mick collapsed on him, and their arms wrapped across and over each other, fingers kneading gently. Their breathing was almost as loud as the clock from the kitchen, ticking in time with time.

After a few minutes, Mick stood up again, a little unsteadily, and chuckled. "So do you go shopping often?" he asked, his grin broadening his face as he regarded Joe, still on his back with his legs up flush with the fall, his mouth still open, drops of cum still on his stache and goatee.

Joe shifted himself back into a seated position and laughed. "Yeah, I have many, many needs that must be met by that store. Perhaps we can go shopping together again sometime?"

Mick was slipping the black trunks back on and then his jeans. The T-shirt went over his head, and his hands gripped the bottom, pulling it down over his furry chest and stomach. As he put his socks on, he answered, "Any time you want, bro. And next time, I'm going to fuck your ass."

"No, man, next time, I'm going to fuck your ass."

"Next time we'll wrestle, and the winner fucks the loser. So you'd better start practicing your wrestling because I'm going to start practicing calling you Shirley, bitch." Mick winked and smiled a little too kindly at Joe. You know, I might want to give it another try, he thought to himself. If anyone was going to get my ass, it'd be someone like him.

His boots back on his feet, Mick walked over to finish his beer and then said, "I'd better get going. My kids'll be calling me for our afterschool chat soon, and I need to be there. You got any kids?"

"Yeah, a son. He's at school until five. Play practice."

"Cool. Well, before I leave, perhaps you'd like some more help with that wood? It's still in your trunk, you know."

"Oh, man, thanks!" exclaimed Joe. "My wife hates it when I leave shit in there because then she can't leave shit in there. Let's...um...bring it in here. The garage is full."

Mick guffawed. "Let me guess. It's full of plywood?" He clapped Joe on the back as they strode out into the August heat once more, the sun now casting sloping shadows through the grove of cottonwoods across the street that ran like molasses across the green grass. They seized the sheet of plywood and walked with it back inside.

"Where you want this, chief?"

"Um, how about over there, behind the TV," replied Joe. "That's as good a place as any."

They maneuvered the extraneous wood into position and set it down. Joe extended his hand, and Mick took it, shaking it vigorously. "It surely has been a pleasure," Mick said, and then reached into his wallet and gave Joe a business card. Joe put it on the entertainment center and replied, "Yeah, it surely has," grinning shyly back at the dark-haired man who'd made him cum so hard and walking with him toward the door.

"Well, give me a call--or I'll stop by here sometime--okay?" Mick's eyes shifted from Joe to the plywood behind them, back and forth.

"You bet, Mick. I'll be here. And maybe I'll have to invest in a singlet."

Mick reached down and stroked Joe's dick again for just a second. "You do that, fucker." He winked, turned around, and walked out into the dappled sunshine. Joe watched his shoulders swaying, his ass framed by the blue jeans as he made his way toward the car. He sighed and turned on his heel to regard the living room again.

No cum stains that he could see; good. He'd have to double-check, but there was no evidence. Except...

He walked over to observe the plywood, which dominated the wall behind the television. It had to be at least eight feet long and five feet wide. Surely she'll notice that. But then again, she'll probably walk right past it and never even mention it. There's so much she doesn't notice, after all.

 

© 2001 Gregor Everitt