From: dewayne836@aol.com (Dewayne836)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Story: Tool-Boy  (Man/Man)  Cons. gay adults
Date: 6 Jan 1995 19:13:25 -0500

NOTICE:
=================

This file contains adult material and access should be restricted to 
adults only. The story contains explicit descriptions of consensual 
sexual acts between Adult Men. If you are under the age of 18 and/or 
are offended by such material then Do Not Read This Story. 

The story told below is a work of fiction. All persons and events 
described are entirely fictitious. No similarity to actual persons 
or events is intended or should be inferred; any such similarity is 
entirely coincidental and unintentional. Feel free to send any 
comments concerning this story to CompuServe account 73321,3464 or 
America On-line account DeW1Queer. 

The author grants permission for free electronic distribution of this 
work, no modifications are permitted (BBS's may append their name and 
phone number at the end of the file below this note). No other rights 
are granted and the author retains ownership of the work. 

Please be responsible in your handling of electronic erotica -- keep 
this and all sexually-oriented materials away from minors and anyone 
who would find it offensive.


"The Tool Boy"  by Chris

About the time I started high school, my family moved from the south to New
York City. We moved into a small apartment building on the upper west side.
It was an elegant building that wasn't a large a place, but that was well-
maintained by a guy called Pop who lived in a back apartment on the lower
floor with his wife and a cute, blond-haired kid, everybody called Scotty.

Little Scotty always followed his father around on the weekends as Pop
fixed various things throughout the building.  Pop was in his mid-thirties
and was quite a hunk, with muscled biceps bulging out of his rolled-up
t-shirt sleeves and dark curls of hair that stuck out from the front of his
neckband. Pop must have had the biggest hands I had ever seen, and he kept
those giant paws busy, making sure everything worked properly no matter how
long it took or how hard the job.

One Christmas, Scotty got a belt of toy tools just like his dad's.
Needless to say, Scotty was in raptures from then on, and spent every
moment he could with Pop, working on pipes, sinks, boilers, windows, or
whatever. Scotty would stand transfixed, watching his Pop work, fingering
his toy tools that hung from his little belt. He was a cute kid, and anyone
could see that he would be just like his dad someday.

I was trying to be a high school super jock, and whenever Scotty's dad
wasn't working and I was home, Scotty would come to my room and watch me
work out with my weights. He always watched every move I made with the same
intensity that he would watch Pop fix things. Since he was several years
younger than I, he couldn't lift the weights himself, but he loved to sit
and pretend to do all the same moves I did.

After I graduated from high school and went off to Vanderbilt, I mostly
forgot about Scotty and Pop. The folks sub-let the apartment when they
moved out of the city, thinking that I might need it when I finished
college and moved back to the city.

In June, after my final year of graduate school, I did gradually start
moving back into the old place. Not having much in the way of furniture, I
spent most of my time at my parent's house. In part to get rid of me, they
offered me some furniture. Finally getting the message, I took the bed and
set it up.  I had only spent two nights at the old place when I was jarred
awake by a bang and heavy jangling sound one morning. I turned over, barely
opening my eyes, to see a figure standing at the foot of my bed dressed in
a grimy t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and worn-out jeans with a belt
full of tools around his waist.

As I rubbed my eyes and squinted, he spoke: "Oh, Chris, I didn't know you
were here. I didn't mean to scare." I must have looked confused in my
drowsiness, because he then said, "It's me, Chris -- Scotty. I came to fix
the drain in the bathroom sink." I still didn't say anything, lying
bare-assed on my back in the wad of sweaty sheets. The summer heat was near
unbearable, and I hadn't had the used air conditioner fixed that I intended
to put in the bedroom. With Pop around all those years, I never learned or
had any need to learn how to fix things myself. "Gee, Chris, you sure are
big," Scotty stammered as he shuffled sideways towards the bathroom. I
thought he was referring to my muscles, until I looked down at the sheets
to see the hardest of piss hard-ons, my cock sticking straight in the
air. I rolled over to go back to sleep, but starting to think about what
Scotty had said, and wondering whether he was talking about my eight-inch
cock or my body muscles.  Realizing that I needed desperately to piss, I
also realized that the bathroom was occupied and could be for hours if
Scotty took the time to fix things the way Pop used to do.

I lay still for a few minutes, trying to overcome my early morning need and
to give my flagpole a chance to go down. Finally, I stumbled out of bed and
stuck my head around the bathroom door. "Sorry, Scotty," I said, "but I got
to piss real bad."

"Oh sure, Chris," said Scotty, staring not into my eyes, but rather at the
head of my still-hard cock, which was also poking around the edge of the
door.  "Come on in," he said, wedging his head back under the sink as he
banged the pipes with his wrench.

I was irritated that wasn't getting up to step outside while I took care of
matters, but I couldn't wait any longer and let loose with a torrent of hot
piss into the toilet bowl. As the splashing sound started, Scotty pulled
his head from under the sink and stared, transfixed by my semi-hard spout,
the way he used to when I worked out or Pop was fixing things. After the
flood finally stopped and I shook the last few drops off, Scotty continued
watching and I couldn't help but get harder.

Now that I had some relief, my head was clearing up enough for me to
realize that this wasn't the same little kid I used to know, but a
crouching, hard- muscled young stud of about nineteen years. "I didn't know
you were taking care of things around building," I said.

"Oh yeah, ever since Pop opened a repair shop in upstate New York about a
year ago," muttered without altering his gaze.

"You never outgrew your fascination with tools, huh, Scotty?" I saw his
face redden and the words he wanted to say got stuck in his throat. I
couldn't resist the opportunity to tease or entice him further in order to
find out his urges. "Well, Scotty, this the only tool I know how to
use. How would you like to do some work with it." He couldn't speak and his
face got redder.  I asked him if he was gay or liked guys, but he still
said nothing and only got redder. I told him that this was ok, that there
was nothing wrong with being gay or liking guys. I said, "after all, I sure
like guys a lot." A look of slight relief come over his face, I gazed lower
to see a small dark wet spot forming in the crotch of his jeans. "You can
touch if," I said, pulling his beefy left hand from the edge of the sink
and bringing it towards my throbbing cock, wrapping his fingers around its
warmth and hugeness. Scotty began to squeeze and softly moved his hand back
and forth. "That feels good; grip it a little tighter," I moaned. Scotty,
like Pop, always wanting to do the job right, increased his pressure and
stroked a little more vigorously. I was about to pop my load into his
beautiful blond curls, so I pulled his hand away just at the last moment.
My cock throbbed and pre-cum dribbled from its slit.  Scotty tentatively
extended his tongue and licked the flowing juice.

Here I was with Scotty on his knees in front of me, while I wondered about
the size of the piece of meat stuffed in his pants.

I reached under his arms and pulled him to his feet. He smiled nervously as
I pulled his grimy t-shirt up and over his head, exposing his hard muscled
torso. His nipples were full, round and pink, with just a few hairs
surrounding them. I leaned forward and found the right one with my tongue,
caressing it gently, and feeling it begin to harden. I massaged the left
one with my fingers as I wetted down his chest. Scotty groaned pleasurable,
and I began to suck on his thick nipple. He liked what I was doing, and
loved the taste of his sweat and its salty musk.

I tongued my way down the smooth chest, reaching his navel and the
sprouting bush of fur that began below it. I hooked my fingers into the top
buttonhole of his jeans and began popping the buttons open. As the last
button pulled free, his cock fell out of a mass of thick, blond pubs. I
yanked his jeans down to his ankles, leaving his tool belt jangling around
his waist. His cock curved upward, wide and proud, almost touching his
furry navel. I reached for it, slowly sliding the thick foreskin back to
expose the head. I licked the tip and leaned my face forward.

I couldn't believe how hot his cock was as my lips covered the full, prick
head. My mouth must have felt like a bucket of ice to him. He moaned and
pushed forward. As my hand held his foreskin back, I took at least five
inches of his thick meat into my throat, still holding some in my hand. I
knew he wasn't going to hold off for long, so I began a vigorous sucking.
It took about ten full downstrokes before his cock erupted, sending thick
torrents of hot juice into the back of my throat. He bucked his throbbing
cock all around the inside of my mouth. I grabbed hold of the handles of
two hammers that hung on either side of his belt and pulled him deeper into
my throat. I kept swallowing, but he was pumping faster than I could get it
all down. Cum streaked down the base of his cock on to his balls and
dripped from my chin. When the last of his cum seemed to be drained, I took
his cock from my mouth, still stroking his foreskin back and forth over the
head and proceeded to lap up the cum around his balls. He was hot for me to
continue.

I sucked his balls into my mouth one at a time, pulling on them with gentle
firmness. Scotty moaned and moved his legs further apart, while I pulled a
screwdriver from his belt that was banging against my ear. I moved further
down, approaching his rosy-pink pucker that appeared deep in his
fuzz-covered mounds. I extended my tongue to the rim of his hole, and
Scotty gasped, his opening quivering at the touch. His entrance relaxed,
and I pushed my tongue deep into him, forcing the remains of his hot load
into his crevice. I continued licking and sucking, while kneading his
muscled cheeks with my hands. His tools jangled like heavy gongs around my
head.

When his hole gleamed from my spit and his cum, I stood up and leaned
Scotty against the sink, placing his hands on either side of the mirror
above it.  I moved between his thick legs and pressed my cockhead to the
opening. With one gentle push, my cock lid easily into his burning chute.
As my balls banged into him, I saw his cock bounce up like a spring,
slapping against his belly.  I reached around, grabbed it in my hand and
began stroking him as I plunged in and out of his hole. His cock felt even
hotter now than when I had sucked him a few minutes earlier. I watched in
the mirror as my hand moved his foreskin back and forth over the broad
head. The juice leaking out caused the movement to make a snapping sound.
Scotty threw his head back and I could see in the mirror that his eyes
close, mouth open. I knew he was close to a second cumming. I plunged
deeper and harder to bring forth a release to match his.  His tools banged
against the side of the sink. Just as my cock made a last massive expansion
and exploded, Scotty let loose with another gushing volley, splattering the
mirror with bolts of his hot juice. Rivers of his pleasure were running
down in so many places, I could no longer see our reflection.

Exhausted, I pulled my cock out with a pop, and we both collapsed on the
floor in an embracing heap.

We moved to the bedroom, and Scotty shot twice more that afternoon until we
were both too sore to continue. Finally, we fell asleep, may arms around
him, and his tools scattered on the bedroom floor. Just before we dozed
off, Scotty looked at me and said, "I always loved to work with tools,
Chris, but yours is the one I love the most, and I've always wanted it,
ever since I used to watch you work out all those years ago." I kiss the
back of his neck, knowing that this was going to be a good summer.

The End.