Date: Wed, 10 Aug 2005 22:07:42 -0400
From: mariner23502@hotmail.com
Subject: Hot Technician

Hot Technician
Copyright 2005
By Lee Mariner

This ADULT fantasy contains homosexual acts and erotic situation.  Should
you find such material offense or if you are not of legal age in your
locality to be reading this material, please leave.

The author holds the exclusive copyright to this story, and All Rights are
reserved.  It is assigned to the Nifty Archives for posting under the
provisions of their submission guidelines.  It may not be reproduced,
copied or archived on any other web site or by any individual without the
specific written consent of the author.

All stories that I have posted on Nifty can be found under my name, Lee
Mariner, in the Nifty Archives listing of Prolific Authors.

As always, I am deeply grateful to my friend, Dean, for his invaluable
assistance in editing and proofing this and all of my work.

Readers wishing to be notified by e-mail of future additions to this or
other stories are invited to contact me at:

mariner23502@hotmail.com

Please support the Nifty Archives


I am sure that most homeowners have, at one time or the other, experienced
the frustration that comes from the malfunctioning of their television
sets, from overflowing sinks or toilets, clogged pipes or sewer lines, and
from the second most irritating malfunction after the loss of the
television set... the air-conditioning/heating systems.

Heating systems always seem to break down in the dead of winter, and
air-conditioning when it is ninety degrees in the shade.  This is my story.



I had spent several weeks looking for an older home, not one of the new
glass/chrome monstrosities being built on postage stamp sized lots.  I
wanted some privacy and not having to listen to my neighbors arguing or
kids screaming.  I was about to pack it in when my real estate agent called
telling me he thought he had found what I was looking for.  From his
description of the property and its location, it sounded promising; and I
made an appointment to see it.

The house sat on a partially wooded two-acre lot and, at first sight,
seemed to be what I was looking for.  I was delighted to see that the owner
was not in residence as that made inspection a lot easier.  I hired a
qualified property inspector to look for things that most homebuyers would
over look, and he reported the property as being very well taken care of
with only a few minor repairs needed.  There was some caulking around a
window or two that needed replacing, and the door to one of the two linen
closets did not close properly.

A close friend had warned me to be sure that the roof shingles were not
peeling and that the heating/air-conditioning systems were in good repair.
Being a novice at home buying I heeded his advice, and made a point of
emphasizing these points to the inspector.  He advised that there were no
deficiencies noted and that I had nothing to worry about.  Within eighteen
months of moving into the house, a routine service inspection revealed a
crack in the fire bowl of the furnace; and, of course, the furnace had to
be replaced.

I eventually settled on an oil furnace with heat pump combination.  During
the winter the heat pump would be the primary source of heat until the
outside temperature dropped below forty degrees.  If that happened, the oil
furnace would automatically kick in.  The reverse was true in the summer;
the heat pump became the forced air source for the self-contained
air-conditioning unit that was in the base of the furnace.

Everything was fine for two years or so until a particularly warm day when
I was working at my computer and noticed it seemed warmer than usual.  The
digital thermostat had been set at seventy-five degrees; and, while I was
checking it, I noticed that there was no sound in the overhead air return
register.  Had there been, it would have indicated that the forced air pump
was operating.

When I called the company that had installed the system, they politely
informed me that they wouldn't be able to take care of the problem until
the following day.  No amount of cajoling would sway the young lady, and an
appointment was set up for the following day between eight o'clock and ten
o'clock in the morning.  I remember thinking to myself as I hung the
telephone receiver up, "That really fucks up the morning."

I had resigned myself to an uncomfortable overnight when a friend called
inviting me for dinner at the Foxfire Restaurant and Grill.  I accepted and
met him at the designated time.

The restaurant had a mixed but comfortable crowd of gays and straights.  My
friend, John Echols, had neglected to tell me that he had invited a new
couple that he had recently met, to join us for dinner.  They were both
attractive and youngish, perhaps in their late twenties or early thirties.
The conversation during dinner was the usual gay banter and gossip that
most gays are good at.  Daniel and Matthew, John's new friends, said very
little after the initial introductions and the almost mandatory probing of
their relationship.  John was experienced at subtle interrogation, and he
would pick the bones clean before he would be satisfied that he had gleaned
what juicy tidbits he could before changing the subject.  He delighted to
be the center of attention and was proud of his seemingly inexhaustible
fountain of gay community news.

I don't believe he obtained very much information about Daniel and Matthew.
They were pretty tight lipped, but I noticed that they had roving eyes and
would nudge each other when a particularly good-looking young man would
pass our table.  John would be talking so much that he did not see much of
anything going on around him as long as he had a captive audience.  I was
not a prude and certainly had not taken a vow of celibacy; but my thoughts
were more on the uncomfortably hot night ahead of me.  John, of course,
invited me to stay with him when he heard of my dilemma.  Knowing John as I
did, I knew there was always an ulterior motive to his invitations, and I
declined. Rolling his eyes wildly, he pouted and waved his arms around as
if in mortal distress at the thought of someone he thought so highly of
suffering when there was no need.



Fortunately, since I sleep in the nude with only a sheet for cover, it was
not too uncomfortable sleeping.  I managed to rest and awoke at half past
seven o'clock with my usual hard on.  A long piss usually solved the
problem, but this morning I was particularly horny, and my cock remained
hard.  I was thinking about Daniel and Matthew and wondering whether they
had ever involved themselves in a ménage-a- trios'.  There are some that
enjoy a smorgasbord, but it was not what I enjoyed as I was a one-on-one
person.  John was not an unattractive man, and we did have sex until he
attempted to subtly induce another man into having sex with us. I knew that
John enjoyed multiple sex partners, and it was not beneath him to seduce
two or three men for sex at the same time.  He was a glutton for cock both
oral and anal, the more the merrier.

Remembering that the dispatcher for Westminster Oil had said the service
technician would arrive in the morning, I reluctantly resisted the
temptation to jerk off and relieve the pressure in my groin.  While I was
washing up and shaving, my cock wilted to half-mast; but there was a
noticeable bulge in the crotch of the loose fitting shorts that I had
slipped on.  "What the hell," I thought looking into the mirror, "I'm not
ashamed of my cock."  I started to take a t-shirt from my drawer and then
changed my mind about wearing one.  I'm not a vain person; but, like my
cock, I am fairly well built and not ashamed of my body.

If the technician were male as was most likely, he shouldn't pay any
attention to my only wearing shorts.  If it were a female, which was not
impossible, she had nothing to be worried about.  I had learned, very
definitely, while I was in the Army that my sexual preference was men; but,
to satisfy the homophobic requirements, I had fucked a whore or two when
off base on a pass with a buddy whom I would have much rather been in bed
with.

The coffee pot was ready, and I flipped the switch to "on" as I passed it
on the way to retrieve the daily newspaper.  When I opened the front door
the brilliance of the rising sun in the east almost blinded me, and I
hesitated for a moment before opening the storm door to retrieve the
newspaper.  I hadn't checked the exterior thermometer that was mounted
outside one of the breakfast nook windows; but, from the blast of hot air
that hit me, I gauged it to be in the mid to upper eighties.

After pouring what was usually only my first mug of coffee, I was sitting
at the table in the breakfast nook reading the newspaper when the front
door chimes sounded.  Pushing the chair back, I glanced up at the wall
clock, it read twenty minutes past eight o'clock.  "Hmmmmmm," I mused to
myself, taking a quick sip of my coffee and thinking, "They are early
enough."

When I opened the door, I was expecting, from past technicians that had
been called in, to see an older rather unkempt person.  I was stunned to
see a sharply uniformed, attractive, broad-shouldered young man standing on
the other side of the glass.  His sandy hair was well groomed, and his
hazel eyes were bright with the confidence that usually came with youth,
high self-esteem and intelligence.

"Mr. Coleman, Mr. Aaron Coleman?" he asked, flashing brilliantly white and
evenly spaced teeth.

"Wh..., Why, yes," I stammered, feeling very stupid as I continued.  "You
must be the technician that I was expecting from Westminster Oil," I said,
feeling as if I were babbling.

"Yes, Sir," he replied flashing his brilliant teeth as he spoke. "I'm Brady
Nobles, and you called the office about your system breaking down?"

"Yes, yesterday," I answered too quickly, a sudden feeling of panic washing
over me when I felt my still half-flaccid cock stirring.  "You're earlier
than I expected," I said nervously, trying to stand sideways hoping my
swelling cock would be less visible and wishing I had worn a pair of briefs
under my thin shorts.

I could have sworn his eyes dropped briefly to my crotch, before he
spoke. "I like to get an early start, Mr. Coleman.  Could you show me where
the unit is located?"

"Oh, yes," I answered, still nervous at the shock of seeing this young
Adonis at my door.  "It's out back, but you can come through the house;
it's shorter," I said feeling a little less nervous but still a tad shaky.

"Thanks," he said, hesitating as he entered before continuing his comments
as I closed the door and turned to show him the way to the furnace room. "I
hope my being early didn't interrupt anything."

"No, not at all," I replied, breathing in deeply, a feeling of confidence
returning as I clearly saw his eyes gazing down at the impression of my
cock.  "I was having coffee and reading the newspaper when you rang the
doorbell, and I hadn't made any plans for the morning since I was expecting
someone to be here," I said, letting him see me looking him over as I
passed.

"I hope you didn't have to take off from work," he said quietly as he
followed.  "So many customers complain about missing work, and there is
really nothing we can do about it."

For a brief moment, I hesitated before answering his inquiry, a flash of
concern crossing my mind, and then I said, "I live alone, and I'm
self-employed, Brady.  I believe that is what you said your name is. "

"Yes, Sir," he said as we stepped into the kitchen. "One of my Mom's
favorite television programs was The Brady Bunch; and she told me that, as
I was born the same night as the program was on, she named me Brady after
the program."

"It's a good thing she didn't include the rest of the program's title," I
said chuckling softly.  "You will find the unit and electrical panel in the
furnace room, and you can use this door," I said, stopping in front of one
of the kitchen windows and pointing at the outside door that led to the
furnace room.

"Easy enough," he said softly as he moved beside me and looked out the
window.  "If it isn't too serious, it shouldn't take very long."

"You'll know more about that than I," I said demurely, inhaling deeply my
nostrils detecting a strong aroma of English Leather cologne trailing
behind him as he moved toward the door.



My cock had softened slightly while we were talking; and, moving away from
the window and turning my back, I pressed it's semi-flaccid length against
my balls with both hands and squeezed my asshole tight sucking in my
abdomen as I breathed in deeply several times attempting to regain control
of my senses.

"Jesus," I thought shaking my head gently as I freshened my coffee. "Unless
I am badly mistaken, he is as gay as I and as horny as I am; and God knows
that would not be a bad thing." I mused, moving back to the table with my
fresh mug, and glancing out the window toward the furnace room as I sat
down.

Every now and then as he was doing whatever it was that he was doing, he
would pass the window; and, glancing in at me, he would half smile, half
grin.  Each time he looked I felt my cock growing harder and snaking down
the right side of my inner thigh until the uncut crown peeped from under
the hem of my shorts.  An atomic bomb dropped on Moscow could have been
headlined in the newspaper, and it wouldn't have interested me in the
least.  My mind was concentrating of what Brady would look like without his
uniform on.

I was mentally trying to devise a way of finding out if he were as amicable
as I hoped he would be, and my hand had unconsciously dropped over my
throbbing cock while my mind conjured different versions of what it would
be like. Was his body as hard muscled as it appeared to be, was he cut or
uncut, and did he enjoy fucking being fucked or both?  I could comfortably
handle anything up to eight inches, and cut or uncut didn't make any
difference.

"What the hell," I said softly.  "Why not ask him outright and get it over
with?  We are both about the same size, and I don't think he'll try to beat
the shit out of me.

I had settled on the blunt direct approach when, opening the door he stood
in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob for a minute before stepping
inside.  It was a long enough delay to allow me to see an elongated
impression snaking down the left side of his leg hidden by the David Taylor
khakis he was wearing.

His matching shirt was soaked with the sweat that was running in rivulets
from his brow.  The tapered sandy hair was darker from the sweat but, I
felt my courage melting away under the coolness of his hazel eyes and
instead of broaching the subject of sex, I heard myself saying, "You look
hot as hell, Brady; may I offer you a glass of ice water or a soft drink?"

"You're right," he said breathing in deeply, the sweat soaked shirt fabric
stretching across his chest as his chest expanded, revealing thick breast
muscles with twin nipples protruding against the cloth.  "I am hot has
hell," he said salaciously.  "And, if you can show me where the emergency
cut-off switch for the furnace is located, I believe I can get your
air-conditioning back on line and then I'll take you up on the ice water."

"Cut-off switch, cut-off switch," I mumbled to myself while suggestively
rubbing my hand over my chest and nipples.  "I think it is located in the
closet in the small bedroom," I said, suddenly pushing my chair back and
standing without giving any thought to whether my cock was visible or not.

"And that would be where?" he said in a mocking tone, his hazel eyes
gleaming as he blatantly ran his hand over his chest muscles and nipples.

"This way," I gasped, turning quickly away to avoid his seeing my reaction
to his suggestive boldness.

Brady followed me into the smallest of my three bedrooms, and I went to the
small closet.  The closet was not really large enough for a person to move
around in but there was enough room to show him were the switch was to the
left of the doorjamb.

"It's right here, Brady; but if you turn the overhead light on, you can see
it better," I said turning my head and almost kissing him.

"There is enough light," he said, covering my mouth with his as he slipped
an arm around my waist and pulled me tightly against him.  The musky
masculine aroma of his sweat combined with the cologne that I had detected
earlier was a heady, erotic aphrodisiac.  Inhaling deeply, waves of passion
and desire swept over me.  For a brief moment, I thought he might be going
to rape me but, the slow movement of his hand over my naked back, and the
softness of his tongue sliding over my lips belied his being a rapist and
any thought of resisting melted away.  Moaning softly, I slipped my arms
around his neck, and opened my lips allowing his tongue to grapple with
mine.

His tongue felt like a steel epee dueling with mine, parrying and thrusting
into the inner recesses of my mouth. His arm was a steel band encompassing
my waist, holding me tightly to him his hard massive cock pressing into the
softness of my pelvis.  Fiery shocks of desire spread through my quivering
arms and legs with the force of white-hot thunderbolts depriving my body of
any resistance to his overpowering presence.

When he slowly retracted his tongue from between my lips, I moaned softly.
He leaned his head back slightly, gazing at me and grinning softly, golden
flecks of excitement flashing in the depths of his hazel eyes.  Both of us
were breathing heavily, sucking deep draughts of air into our lungs as we
looked at one another.  I was suddenly at a loss for words even after all
that I had thought of while he was working outside.  Brady broke the
silence, breathing more normally as he smiled and said, "Would it surprise
you if I said I wanted you when you opened the front door, and I saw you
trying to hide you're hardon."

"Yes it would; and, since you've been here, I've been trying to think of a
way to see if you were interested," I said, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

"I was very interested," he chuckled, leaning back and pressing his hard
cock against mine as I worked my way down the row of buttons.

When I reached the last button before his belt, he pulled his arm from
around my waist; and, crushing his pelvis against mine, he pinned me
against the doorjamb while he pulled his shirt off.

"Christ," I gasped.  "I was hoping you were built but, Jesus, Brady, you're
built like fucking Atlas," I exclaimed, excitedly running my hands over the
smooth hardness of his thick chest muscles and heavily muscled arms.

"Don't sell yourself short, Aaron; I've seen teenagers and young men that
aren't built as well as you are," he said raking my chest and arms with his
eyes. "Do you mind if I ask how old you are?"

"Noooo, I don't; but you first," I answered forestalling my answer.

"Twenty-seven," he answered, grinning impishly as he continued. "Now you."

His eyes glinted as he waited for my answer; and, inhaling deeply, I said,
"Thirty-two."

"Thirty-two," he mumbled, massaging the nape of my neck with one hand as he
slid his hand between us and gripped my burgeoning cock. "This feels like a
teenager to me."

"There is only one way to find out," I said, feeling a little cockier.

"I was hoping you would say that," he growled as he released my cock, his
lust filled eyes blazing with desire.

Sliding his hands between the waistband of my shorts and my hips, he knelt
in front of me pulling my shorts down as he did. "Oh, God," I groaned when
I felt my cock springing from my shorts and slap against my hard flat
stomach.  Every muscle in my body tensed when he slid the foreskin back
revealing the slick swollen crimson head of my pre-cum dripping cock. My
legs shook uncontrollably as Brady gently moved the foreskin back and forth
blowing softly on the exposed head each time it slid from its protective
sheath.  My nuts were boiling when he started to knead them with the
fingers of his free hand, and I felt fire surging upward in my pulsing
cock. His relentless teasing had me so hot that I groaned, "Suck it Brady,
please."

My muscles tensed in anticipation of the ecstasy that would follow his
mouth engulfing my cock, but he suddenly stood up and said, "Man, I want to
suck your cock but not this way, not standing in a closet. Is there enough
room on the bed for you to lie down?"

"Sure," I said anxiously, kicking my shorts from around my ankles and
pushing the piles of clothing onto the floor.

"Damn," he exclaimed glancing at his watch as I stretched out on the bed
watching as he stripped naked.  "I wish we had more time," he said softly
as he sat on the edge of the bed, slowly stroking my cock.

"How much time do you have, Brady?" I said gasping at the size of his cock
swinging gently over huge low-hangers.  "You were scheduled to be here
between eight and ten o'clock."

"Yeah, I know but I fibbed about starting early when I got here.  Steve,
the dispatcher, slipped in an emergency appointment at ten o'clock; and
it's a re-visit to a very cranky old bitch over in Englewood, so I gotta be
there on time or as close as I can make it," he said.  "It's not going to
take long to finish your job, but it's quarter past nine now, and that
won't leave enough time to really enjoy sex with you and make that
appointment on time."

The erotic atmosphere in the bedroom evaporated, and I felt as if someone
had punched me in the stomach.  I couldn't really blame Brady; I was just
as horny as he was and not thinking about anything except sex. I started to
sit up when he pushed me back down.  Angling his gorgeous body toward me
and pulling one leg up on the bed, he put his hand on my cock and squeezing
gently started to slowly stroke it to full erection.  Looking down at me,
he smiled softly; and placing my hand on his thick cock he whispered, "Will
you be home later on tonight?"

My heart skipped a beat as visions of being in bed with him raced through
my head. His gleaming eyes bore into mine as he waited for my reply.  "If
you're thinking what I hope you are thinking, Brady, I will be."

"I think you will like what I am thinking, Aaron," he replied, stroking my
drooling cock and squeezing dollops of pre-cum from its blood-engorged
head."

"Brady, if you keep it up, I'm going to cum," I groaned, sucking air
between my clinched teeth and into my lungs as my hips involuntarily
responded to the rhythm of his pumping hand.

"I know," he said, suddenly twisting around and lowering his mouth to my
pre-cum slick cock.

"Oh, shit," I screamed bucking my hips upwards at the feeling of my cock
swelling, the heat of hot sperm rising to fill his waiting mouth. "Brady,
Brady," I moaned as he opened his quivering throat letting my cock sink
deeper into its hot recesses, thick streams of cum gushing down his gullet.

His mouth and tongue worked the pulsing length of my cock as he withdrew to
its blood-engorged head, greedily drinking the thick hot sperm as it gushed
from my cock.  Waves of intense excitement washed over me as volley after
volley sperm erupted with volcanic force, and he kneaded my ball sac with
his fingers, squeezing them gently coaxing the last drops of the elixir
that slowly dribbled to an end.

"I wasn't expecting that, Brady," I whispered weakly as my cock slipped
from his lips, and he laid his head on my stomach.

"I told you I wanted to suck your cock; but, as much as you didn't expect
it, I didn't think you would shoot your load that quick," he said as he sat
up on the side of the bed.

"Bu..., but what about you?" I asked reaching for his cock and feeling the
stickiness.

"Pre-cum," he said answering my question as he stood up and started to
dress.  "Don't worry, Aaron, there is a lot more where that came from."

"It doesn't seem right, Brady.  You sucked me off and it's not fair to you
if you don't let me do something for you."

"Oh, you will, Aaron, you will unless you stand me up." He said, laughing
softly.  "This is Friday and I'm off this weekend."

"And," I asked excitedly, pulling my leg up and turning on my side, my
still half hard cock oozing with the remnants of sperm.

"That, you will learn later," he said, glancing at his watch as he
tightened his belt. "Right now, I gotta get to that next call."

"How much more do you have to do before your finished with mine?" I asked,
sitting on the bed and leaning over to retrieve my shorts.

"Yours was finished before I came inside," he answered.  "Can't you tell?"

He was right, the room was cooler and I hadn't noticed it.

"Then why did you want to know where the emergency switch was if you were
finished?" I asked, sure of what his answer was without hearing it.

"You know why, don't you?" He said his eyes twinkling as he answered my
question a little ambiguously.  "I wasn't sure if you were going to make a
move or not but, I wanted you so bad that, I decided the best way to see if
we wanted the same thing was to get you where we both could find out and
that was in the bedroom.  I'm sorry for tricking you but, I knew where the
switch was located and from the configuration of the furnace room, I
figured it was in a small closet and closets are usually in bedrooms aren't
they?  You aren't mad are you?"

"No, I'm not mad, you beat me to the punch," I replied as I stood pulling
my shorts up and tucking my cock inside.  "I had decided to ask you up
front when you came inside showing that massive cock of yours."

"It's not much bigger than yours is, Aaron, only eight inches but, mine is
a little thicker," he said, grinning and chuckling as he grabbed my cock
and squeezing hard growled, "no playing around until I get back."

"I'll be here, just make sure you are," I said, leaning in and kissing him
gently.

"Christ, why can't this be Saturday?" he exclaimed as we broke the kiss and
he turned toward the door.



I stood in the doorway watching as; Brady loaded his toolbox into his
company truck.  "Company truck," I thought to myself, quickly stepping out
onto the porch and calling to Brady who had started to back out into the
street.  "What will you be driving?" I said, lowering my voice as he pulled
back into the driveway.

"A dark blue, Isuzu," he answered grinning and licking his lips
suggestively as he backed out of the driveway again.

"I'll be waiting and watching," I called after him,

Brady waved his arm out of the window as he drove down the street.  I stood
on the porch for a few minutes longer watching his truck turn the corner,
and I was wondering if I would see him again.