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Reshaped


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1992

I have this thing for blue-collar guys.  I don't know where it originated, but I've never minded too much when there's road construction slowing traffic because it gives me a chance to ogle the crew.  They come in all shapes, colors and ages, but I adore them all, especially when I imagine them (1) all clean and dressed-up for a date ... with me, and (2) them totally nude ... with me. 

Well it was spring and all the sign-holders, diggers and mowers were out everywhere.  I really enjoyed the scenery.  While the flowers may have already started blooming, I didn't have time to notice them as all the blue collar guys were out in force.

Back in '92 I lived in a pretty nice apartment complex in the suburbs and the owner had contracted to have the whole complex landscaped.  I have no idea why because it looked quite nice before the work commenced, and now, as the work had begun, the shrubs and trees were all torn out and all the grass had been dug-up, so the only landscaping, so to speak, was the top soil and little flags marking where the utility lines were buried.  We did have, however, lots of working men adding beauty to the environment.

One day I came home early from work and found a big pickup backed up right against the staircase to my apartment.  No big deal, really.  I could just climb over the bed of the truck and get about my business.  Just as I was starting to do just that, I heard someone call out "Sorry, sorry.  You need to get through?"

I turned around and saw a guy around my age who had on the crew uniform of green t-shirt, jeans and brown work boots.  He wasn't what you'd call 'cute', but was still good looking.  He looked like a championship boxer.  I don't mean his face had any smashed aspects -- it's hard to explain.  All I can say is when I saw him I immediately thought 'boxer'.  

He was about six inches taller than my height, and his hair was dark brown hair. The tops of his ears and his nose were sunburned, but the thing I noticed most was just how damn hairy he was.  Seriously.  He had a thick rug peeking out the neck of his collar (in front and back) and also running up each arm.

"Let me move it for you."

"That's okay, take your time," I replie.

As he moved the pickup a few feet forward, I imagined him all clean and dressed-up and wearing nice loafers.  And then I pictured him nude.

He came back to where I was standing and I just had to ask him what they were planning with all this landscaping.

"Oh, it's a massive project.  Get ready for a rent increase!  The owner wants to add a little hill and some ornamental trees and a cobblestone path.  There might also be a waterfall, but the planners haven't worked out where to put it.  There was talk of a rock garden, but I haven't heard much about that lately.  The owner is kind of a flake."

"You've met him?  I've never even seen him."

"Yeah...and slept with him too."

I kept my expression neutral but still friendly. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I've done it with a lot of your neighbors --- men and women, but mostly men."

"Fringe benefit, I guess."

"Exactly.  That's why I love apartment complexes:  there are lots of single people who are horny - like I always am. I used to charge a fee, but that almost got me in huge trouble once. So I just do it now to get my rocks off.  I plain old love to fuck."

I listened casually but realized I'd stopped breathing for about a minute. 

"Hey -- I was about to take my break. Want to go sit in some shade with me?"

"Sure," I somehow managed to reply.

The only problem was that all the trees were gone now and there was no shade to be found anywhere.

"Well", I ventured "we could go up to my place and you take your break there if you want."

"That sounds great.  Thanks."

As we climbed the steps, I thought about what I might have set into motion. Here was a stud who had slept with half of Hidden Mill Apartments while I had never done anything with anybody.  Until this point, I was happy with fantasies, porn and masturbating.  I'd never even kissed anyone.  At 23, I was hopelessly inexperienced.

Once we got inside, I was aware that I'd left the blinds closed and it was really dark.  My poor plants.  I turned on a floor lamp.

"This is a nice place.  I mean, all of these apartments are nice, but yours is especially nice. Cozy."

"Thanks.  Take a seat."

"My jeans are dirty.  Why don't we sit in the kitchen?"

"Sure.  Want something to drink?"

"Got beer?"

I didn't. "No, but I've got bottles of seltzer water that are nice and cold."

"Perfect."

I brought us both one and we sat in a nice contented minute of silence. 

"What do you do?"

"I work for an ad agency writing copy.  I usually bring work home with me, but it's been a light week."

He craned his head around and looked at my living room. "That couch looks comfortable. Is it?"

"Yeah.  I fall asleep watching TV there all the time."

"Too bad I'm so dirty and sweaty.  We could sit there and talk more."

"It's okay.  Let's go sit there.  It's easy to clean." 

"I've got a better idea.  I'll just take my clothes off and then we'll sit."  He raised his thick eyebrows.  "Sound good?"

"No problem, but how much longer do you have left on your break?"

"I'll 'fess up.  I was done for the day before you even showed up.  In fact, I was here when you left for work in the morning at 7.  I've been spying on you for a few weeks now".

"Oh. Well, great."

This was progressing fast.  He had planned all of this.  I sat frozen at the kitchen table as he took off his boots, socks, jeans and t-shirt, placing them all by the front door and then plopped on the couch in just his white jockey underwear.  I'd never clean that couch again. 

"Get comfortable and come join me!"

Oh how I wished I had beer in the fridge.  I stripped down to my underwear just like he had done, and carried our bottles of water into the living room, but specifically made a point of not using the coasters.  I'm not sure why.

I turned the TV on and scrolled the channels until I found one of those ghost-hunting shows. I clicked on that because they were usually boring and quiet with some interesting stuff thrown in once and awhile. 

"I like these shows.  I think I saw a ghost once.  It was in my grandma's house."

I didn't really listen to the rest of his story because I was looking at his insanely hairy body.  I'd never seen so much body hair on a person.  I also kept staring at the big bare feet he had propped up on my coffee table.  They were at least size 14 or maybe bigger. Realizing I was staring at his feet, he asked "Do you mind that I put my feet up?"

"No. I was admiring them."

"Well, they're beat up and calloused as hell.  Size 15, but the myth isn't true.  My dick is much smaller than my shoes."

Before I could respond, he took my hand and put it directly on his crotch.  It wasn't big, but it was rock hard.  Pulling it out, he presented himself for my inspection.  His dick was short but very fat ... and an angry shade of red.  He stood up and removed his underwear, dropping his shorts with his other clothing.  Now I had a clear view of his perfect round ass, which was so hairy I could barely see his ass crack.  Taking his seat, he pulled me down to suck on his little mad monster. I did, and it felt natural.  I could smell clean sweat and that got me excited.  I bobbed my head and sucked with all the sudden passion I felt.  I sucked his cock for both of us, in equal measure.  I wanted to keep going for hours, but he lifted me off and saying "I'm getting too close."

"We could go to my bedroom," I offered.

"No. This is good right here. Just lay back'.  I did...with a throw pillow under my head.

"Wait.  Lift your head up and let me put that pillow under your ass."

Sure. What ever, I thought.  Why not?

That's when the sex started.  He was trying to slip his fat, stubby cock into my ass.  This was, after all, gay sex.  The sensation of his forced entry might be described as a combination of a bad burn and a bad cut.  I wanted it to stop and was about to tell him as much, but he was focused so fiercely and getting in there, and I specifically remembered him commenting how much he liked to fuck, and so I tried to relax and let him do his thing.

It was uncomfortable for just a minute more, but then I reached around and gave him a full body hug as he pumped.  His hair felt so good, almost as if I was drowning in pubes, if that makes sense at all. 

"I'm going to cum in you," he announced.

"YES! Do it, man!"

"My dick isn't all that clean, and my cum is hazardous.  Now think about it and tell me one more time that you want it.  Hurry."

What?  Surely he didn't mean what I thought he meant, so without any exploration I answered "I want you to come in my ass!"

And then he did.  He was still and his body went limp.  We stayed that way for nearly a minute.

Afterwards we cuddled and hugged for a little longer. 

He made an excuse to leave and I was all alone.  I had blood on my leg that I cleaned up with a paper towel.  There was a big red stain on my couch, but I just turned the cushion over. 

We got together every day after that except for a week when I was sick with the flu. 

And then the project was done and he moved on.  As the year went on, I noticed I was weaker and thinner.  I never got his number.  I walked the new cobblestone path late at night and thought of him.  I wished and hoped, but doing both of those things is a waste of time.

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