Date: Tue, 10 Sep 2013 05:53:54 -0400
From: Rocco Talespinner <roccotalespinner@gmail.com>
Subject: Servicing the Lawn Service

My Tuesday afternoons each week are spent surreptitiously peering out one
window or another while the guy who mows my lawn moves back and forth
across the grass. Jason -- tall, lean, and muscular, not to mention
handsome -- is a college student earning room and board plus expense money
over the summer for next year. When he came to my door soliciting business,
wearing a tight T-shirt and jeans just snug enough in the crotch to reveal
a longish bulge, it was a no-brainer to call my regular lawn service to
cancel our long-time arrangement. Part of the reason was that Jason was
physically so hot, but another was that during our brief interview he was
so much easier to talk to than the scruffy, gruff boys employed by the
landscaping service. Maybe he was less wary than they, maybe just more
polite, but also maybe savvy enough to be willing to deal with situations
as they arise.

My decision was rewarded with increasing dividends, for as the summer grew
warmer my hours of furtive observation became more and more enjoyable as
Jason adopted cutoffs and shed his T. The work boots and heavy wool socks,
by contrast, together with the red bandana sweatband around his head, only
heightened the effect. After about half an hour of his exertions his body
glistened with sweat, dripping profusely into his cutoffs, which gradually
turned dark blue at the crotch as they absorbed the runoff. This made me
speculate -- as if I hadn't already -- about what was concealed inside. The
mystery was all the more intriguing because the cutoffs hugged so low on
his hips, revealing about six inches of light treasure trail that extended
south from his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband.

Well, that was just the spying part. On a recent Tuesday when he rang the
doorbell to get paid, I invited him into my air-conditioned interior,
making excuses of having to find my wallet. I asked would he like something
to drink -- water, lemonade, a beer -- hoping he'd choose the last. I
remarked that maybe he needed a pickup and would stay a moment to relax. He
accepted the beer. That, I thought, was most encouraging. After a certain
amount of searching around, to give him time to take several swigs, I
brought out my wallet and gave him the amount I knew was due. "There's the
possibility of earning more if you'd like to do more."

"Like doing what?" he inquired, then added, "For how much more?"

"Well. It's like this . . ."

"Yeah?" he arched a brow warily.

It was a risk to say it, I knew, but then nothing ventured nothing gained.
"I'd really like to see you naked, if you'd drop your cutoffs."

"Yeah, I saw you watching me out of your windows, so I figured you're into
guys. So, how much if I drop them?"

"Twenty bucks to let me see."

"Right, and after that? I'm not a queer, you know. But what the hell: OK,
hand over the twenty and I'll drop 'em."

So, I did. And he unbuttoned and unzipped and let them slide to the floor.
Jesus fucking Christ! I expected something good, but not what I saw: more
than 8" of man tool, deliciously wrapped in an all-covering foreskin. I
gasped, staring. This cock was long enough that it meandered through more
than one bend and then ended in an enticing little pucker around what was
clearly an ultra-long cock head.

He laughed at my response. "So does this do it for you?"

The little devil fucking well knew he had set off a twenty-alarm explosion
in my brain. After a moment of hesitation, I ventured, "It does it alright,
but that's not all I want. You know damn well it's not."

"So you wanna suck it? "

The fucker knew he had me cornered. "Yes, damn it, I do."

"So how much is it worth to you?"

I hate being taken for a ride, but I also know that at my age you don't get
cock like this every day. The very possibility of deep-throating this fuck
tool was driving me to distraction. It was worth whatever it would take.
But it was also a matter of proportion, namely what he as an undergraduate
earning college expenses could expect for a blowjob. After all, it would be
he who'd get the physical benefits as well as the money.

So I ventured. "Fifty bucks?" This, of course, already on top of the twenty
I gave him just to get him to drop trou.

He laughed and stared me in the eye. "You old cock sucker! You really need
this, don't you? You wanna kneel and worship this fuck tool, don't you, you
old fag?" Little did he know how turned on I get when verbally abused by a
virile stud. "Well, it's gonna cost you more." He was taking a chance that
the negotiation would instead come to a grinding halt.

"Thirty more to make the total an even hundred, but no more; I also have my
limits."

Smart enough to leave well enough alone, he consented and came forward to
receive the extra money. He stood over me, his cock swinging over my face.
I could smell the spicy aroma of his sweaty body and then the acrid
fragrance of fertility issuing from the tip of his foreskin. He was sooooo
much man I was beside myself with desire.

I reached up and cupped his buns while I leaned my head forward to explore
the tip of his foreskin with my tongue. I stuck it inside and ran my tongue
round and round over his smooth cock head. The taste was, shall we say,
exotic to say the least, but exciting, never the less. Then before full
erection set in, I went down on his shaft to the hilt, burying my nose in
his bush. His cock filled my mouth and easily passed into my throat. I
suppressed the gag response and allowed his male organ to swell to complete
engorgement. I was thrilled to have him possessing me totally, without
reservation on my part.

He clasped the back of my head with both hands and thrust forward. I was
sucking his shaft as hard as I could and licking his cock head when that
alone was in my mouth, but the fact is that he was fucking my face. A small
cock in this situation is no big deal, but this organ posed a serious
challenge. He was grunting with male satisfaction and I moaned to encourage
whatever he'd do next. Not to put too fine a point on it, I absolutely love
losing control, letting the man I am servicing use me as he wishes,
regardless of what that means for me.

What we are talking about at this point, though, was merely the beginning.
In the event this gig lasted nearly three quarters of an hour. I sucked, I
bobbed my head up and down on his shaft as fast as I knew how, moaning and
groaning to give him the sense that he was fully satisfying. That
encouraged him to redouble efforts in humping my pussy mouth, sweating some
more from his exertions, and to grunt and growl with dominant male lust. He
got quite carried away, and although there were scary moments when I feared
he might actually injure me, I willingly succumbed to whatever he wanted to
do.

He thrust and thrust and I sucked and sucked, it seemed like half of
forever. Then he began to tremble and I recognized that he was on the verge
of cumming. He gasped and then yelped as he exploded inside my mouth. His
cum, warm and creamy, spurted over and over -- one of the nice things about
a virile young man. The taste was not unpleasant, but not wholly sweet.
However, I happily sucked him dry and delighted in the substantial load
spilling onto my tongue. As I like to do, I squished it around in my mouth
and through my teeth before swallowing it all down. Much as I like to do
that, it still takes some will power to imbibe a man's sperm, but it always
gives me a lift to know that I have done it, in part because I know it
gives the guy who's just cum in me satisfaction to know that a submissive
guy has taken his load and swallowed.

He laughed at my obvious enjoyment, pulled up his cutoffs, and said, "Well,
I better be off before I do something really bad."

I wondered what that could be -- more sex, or maybe something violent.
"Will I see you same time next week?" I asked.

"For the lawn, sure. But do you want the extra service every week?"

"We'll see." I replied. And then I thought to myself, Has a cat got an ass?
Is the pope a Catholic? For you, stud, you fuckin'-A I want the extra, even
if I have to eat oatmeal to afford it.

I cannot tell you how many times I've jacked off between last Tuesday and
the one coming up tomorrow.