Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2002 06:29:17 -0700
From: Clone Buggs <cqsqfq@hotmail.com>
Subject: Big Boy's Tools 2

Big Boy's Tools

	When I bought the older fixer upper in the recovering neighborhood,
I think I was the only gay man on the block.  At first, I spent every
possible minute outside of my paying job, and the small amount of sleep I
allowed myself doing and fixing on the property.  Sweat equity, thy name is
Greg; I used to say to myself as I drifted between exhausted sleep and
reality.
	Money was tight, and some of the larger more expensive jobs had to
be put off for lack of funds, and because I didn't have the tools I needed
to do the work myself.  That lack of necessary where-with-all, caused me to
begin to meet my new neighbors for the first time.  The first encounter,
happened on a bright Saturday morning about eight months ago.
	I had determined to strip what appeared to be about thirty layers
of paint off two massive original lattice frames that made up the front
porch entrance to my house.  I'd checked, and the lumber material they were
constructed of, wasn't even made any more, replacing them would be out of
the question.  With a gallon of toxic stripper, rubber gloves, and my
portable radio tuned to the oldies station I like, I set up to work in my
fenced back yard.
	It was going well, and the radio had just announced it was eight
thirty-five, when my next door neighbor's head popped up above my fence
line.
	"Good morning neighbor," He had a voice, not unkind, when he wasn't
yelling at his bitch of a wife.  They fought like cats and dogs, and when
he wasn't home, she screamed at the kids and family dog.  It was the price
I paid to own my own home.
	"Morning," I answered, continuing to apply stripper with my brush,
trying to avoid a protracted conversation.
	"I just want to tell you," he started.  "I really appreciate what
you're doing for the neighborhood.  It ought to help the property values
some."
	"You aren't thinking of selling are you?"  Hope against hope.
	"Nah, I think about it, but I'm too lazy to do anything about it."
He paused for a long moment watching me paint stripper.  "You need help
with any big jobs, tools or something?  I mean, I mostly just loaf around
on weekends.  Maybe I could help with the big things now and then."  I
looked up from my painting, and glanced at his litter filled gutters, and a
shutter hanging from one rusted screw.
	"Well, come to think of it, there are some tools I can't afford to
buy or rent right now, and if I could get my hands on them it would
certainly speed things up."  He grinned.  I suddenly got the impression he
was hoping he could help me, just to put distance between him and the bitch
at least for a while on weekends.  I didn't blame the poor guy.
	"Like what?"  He stepped higher on what ever he was standing on
beyond my seven foot wooden fence, and crossed his big muscular arms on top
of the barrier.
	"I could use a table or radial arm saw.  There are several things
to be repaired inside that need a big saw.  The detail is too precise for
my hand electric."  I straightened up, and put a hand on my hip and bent my
back in an arc, trying to get a kink out of my hip.  I saw his eyes rake
over my runner's frame, not missing a point.
	Mel, whose name I knew from the screaming matches between he and
the bitch, was a well built man, who did something physical, to earn his
living.  I didn't know what, but what ever it was, it kept him lean and
mean.  I guessed he was about three or four years older than my
twenty-eight, but the age didn't show on him appreciably.
	"Jerry Fines across the street has a Radial Arm saw he never uses
anymore.  I'll borrow it for you.  Anything else?"
	"Actually, yeah.  I'm going to have to dig up my sewer line.  I
think it's either clogged badly, or maybe crushed somewhere along its run.
A garden tiller would help me in a big way to get that job done."
	"You got it.  I'll borrow it from Mac McAdams, three doors down.
He's got a hummer of a machine he bought to put in a garden every year, but
only used it once the year he bought it, and realized a garden was a lot of
work he didn't want to do."
	"That's great Mel."  I thanked him, and he hinted for my name, and
I told him and we shook hands.  His big beefy one swallowing my small boned
version completely.  Feeling his hand warm on mine, made me wonder just
what his other tool might be like.  I didn't have to wait long before I
knew, come to find out.
	The first lattice was finally stripped, and I could see the
original color of paint used on the house trim, and was pleased to see it
was not the babyshit green it currently was.  I liked the soft mauvy peach
the original builder had chosen, and intended to match it as close as
possible when I repainted.  I was sitting on the rusted lawn chair the
previous owner had abandoned, enjoying a break, and a glass of iced tea,
when Mel opened my side gate without knocking, and came through wheeling a
big heavy duty tiller.
	"Hey buddy," he grinned familiarly.  "Here's the tiller.  Mac says
you can have it if you want it, gives him more space in the garage, and
gets his wife off his back about a garden."  I smiled at him and jumped up
to examine the big machine.
	"Can I offer you some iced tea?"
	"Sounds good bud."  He followed me into my original kitchen, and I
poured him a tall frosty glass.  He leaned against the counter, while I sat
on a dining chair I kept in the corner.  I couldn't help but notice the
size of the bulge in his shorts.  He caught me looking, and when I didn't
avert my gaze immediately, he licked hi lips, and set his glass on the
counter.  He cupped his basket with his hand, and adjusted the load.
	"You know," he said.  "There's been a lot of speculation about you
since you bought this place."
	"Yeah?"
	"Yeah.  Some of the guys think you might be queer."  I chuckled,
but said nothing.  "Sam, across the street, says only a queer would put
this much effort in such an old house."
	"Tell Sam, I love this old place.  It's a Green and Green bungalow,
and will be worth every hour I put into it."
	"What the hell is a Green and Green?"  I explained they were the
firm that designed the original concept of the California Bungalow, and had
become important names in the architectural history of Southern California.
I pointed out his house was one, as were half a dozen others on our street.
	"This could be a fancy little community if they were all restored.
Think what that would do for the property values.  A fully restored Green
and Green bungalow sold six months ago for eight hundred thousand."  He
whistled, especially since he had to know I'd paid less than a hundred for
this one, and the owner was glad to get his price.  He mulled over what I
was telling him, and I could see his mind examining the facts and doing
calculations.  When he spoke to me again, I was shocked at the line of
thinking he'd actually been pursuing.
	"So, are you or aren't you queer?"  I shook my head in disbelief,
and smiled.
	"Mel, are you fishing for a blowjob?"  I thought I'd shock him.
	"Well, that would be a start."  I was the one shocked.  "How about
it?"  He walked over to me, and stood with his growing bulge just inches
from my face.  He used his big hands to outline the growing monster in his
shorts.  I reached out with my small hand, and laid it on the hardening
flesh.  As soon as I touched him, he popped the button on his shorts, and
lowered his zipper.  He wasn't wearing briefs, and his massive boner fell
out hitting my cheek.
	"Come on Greg, suck it for me."  I took the heavy shaft and jacked
it a few times, bringing it to full hardness, and then let my tongue and
lips nibble and slather it with saliva.  He stiffened his muscles, and his
whole frame seemed to grow an additional three inches.  The head of his
thick ten inch cock flared and grew angry and red.  I let it slip between
my lips, and felt the V of its underside slide across my tongue.  He
moaned, and brought his big beefy hands to my head, and began to hump into
me slowly.
	"Oh man, I've dreamed about this for years.  I love a good blowjob.
Dolores, won't touch my dick, and I'm lucky if she's horny once a month.
That isn't enough for me, I have to jack off sometimes two or three times a
day."  He increased his humping speed, and his grip tightened on my head.
I turned on the suction, and he went a little crazy with lust.  I thought
that big flared head was going to rip my tonsils out, the way it was
pounding through my throat entrance and popping back out.  It didn't take
long before he was breathing hard like a train puffing up a steep grade,
and his hips began a brutal assault on my face, flattening my nose against
his hard stomach.  I was struggling for breath, and trying to keep my
suction up at the same time when suddenly, he went rigid, and his asscheeks
flexed hard, and I felt the head of his cock expand in my throat, and his
cum tube flex on my bottom lip. and the spooge began flowing like a garden
hose down my throat.
	"Oh jesus fuckin' jesus, take my load, swallow it cocksucker.  Eat
my jiz."  He humped a few times, each hump deposited another spurt down my
gullet.  Finally, with tears flowing down my cheeks, and my nostrils
flaring searching for air, he released his grip on my head, and I pulled
off him, gasping for breath.
	"Man that was good."  He patted me on the head, and bent to pull up
his shorts.  "You ever fuck with guys?"
	"Sometimes," I said, still breathing hard.
	"You let me fuck you?"
	"Are you kidding?"  I ran my hand over his still semihard flesh
before he could put it away and zip it up.  "I'd love to have this plowing
my ass."
	"So what's wrong with right now?"  I couldn't believe what I heard.
After all, he'd just dumped what felt like a nut emptying load down my
throat.
	"You're on."  I jumped up, and led the way to my bedroom.  He was
stripping out of his clothes as we went, and was shucking off his shirt as
we reached the bed.  His cock was already hard again, standing at the
perfect angle for fucking.  I grabbed a rubber out of my night stand, and
the tube of KY.  I stripped out of my sweaty shorts and shoes, while he
rolled the rubber over his shaft.  A big glob of jelly, did the trick of
greasing us both up, and he pushed me onto my back, hurriedly, anxious to
plug my ass.  I spread my legs, and reached for his monster tool and began
feeding it into my more that willing hole.  It had been months since I'd
taken the time to cruise for sex.  I almost couldn't remember the last time
I'd encountered a tool this size.
	Once he was lodged in my ass, he wasted little time in forcing his
length into me, and soon had me shivering and clinging to his body like a
sloth to a limb as he humped me with every muscle of his body.  It was one
hot fuck, pounding me like a piledriver, until his massive set of balls,
pulled up and tightened in their sack and dumped another dose of mancream
into my body.  He was groaning and grunting so loud, I was glad that the
first job I'd done on the place, was to add additional insulation to the
walls of my bedroom.  God forbid the bitch next door should hear her
husband fucking the neighborhood queer.
	When he finally had his fill of me, and I was full to the gills of
him, he pulled out, and laid sweating beside me.  I laid there, savoring
the contented feeling of having cum twice while his big electric tool had
been doing its thing in my butt.  The overhead fan, slowly cooled our
skins, and finally, he raised himself up on an elbow and looked at me with
a smile on his face.
	"I think you're going to need a lot of help until you get this
place finished."
	"Umm.  I think you're right."
	"Some of the guys up and down the block have asked me if you were
gay.  I told them I'd find out."
	"What are you saying Mel?"
	"Well, several of them would like to pay you visits now and then.
You know, just to help out around the place.  If you need any tools, just
ask.  If it can be gotten, we'll get it for you.  Of course, the payment
for the help is going to be sex."
	He dressed, and went home, and I dressed and went back to stripping
my lattice.  I thought about what had happened, and decided it might not be
so bad, having access to all these big Boy's tools.  I'd certainly be
happier, and it looked like I could save a bundle in expenses, restoring my
house.
	I was just finishing my cleanup later that afternoon, when there
was a knock on my back gate.  I shouted it was open, and Jerry Fines, came
in to my yard, pulling a radial arm saw on a two wheel dolly.
	"Hi neighbor," he said.  "Mel, told me you needed some tools.  He
set the saw down, and cupped his basket in his hand.
	"You must be Jerry.  Can I offer you some iced tea, neighbor?"
	"Sure thing," he said, gripping his hardening flesh as we walked
toward the back door.  I glanced over my shoulder at a movement on the top
of my fence, and Mel was there grinning, making a face, with his tongue
licking his lips in exaggeration.
	I let the screen door slam shut, after Jerry had passed by, and
followed him into the kitchen.  I poured him a glass of tea, and took mine
over in the corner and sat on the chair.  Jerry took a sip of tea, and set
his glass on the counter.  he sauntered over to me, squeezing his thick
shaft of man flesh through his shorts.  I put my hand on it, and he
shuddered.  I lowered my glass, and set it on the floor.  He pushed his
shorts down over his hips, and his beautiful nine inch uncut cock, fell
into my hand.