The Best Erotic Stories.

Yard Work
by Bob Peale

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Note: This story was originally submitted as one long story
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Author's Note: This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived, it is done so on the basis that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive.

This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upsets you, do not read any further. By reading further you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law.

Steven was going to put an end to this today. Jenn thought he was making it up, but he knew better.

He'd jumped at the idea of a house in the suburbs after spending most of his life in and around downtown Washington. Like everything else, once he'd made up his mind he didn't mess around, and they'd put a contract on a house 4 days after they started looking. It was a great house: lots of light, plenty of rooms, and a good-sized backyard. In fact, it was the backyard that had led to his current problem. Soon after they moved in, it became apparent that it was too much yard for him, a city boy, to adequately take care of. Jenn complained about how rundown the yard always looked, although it seemed that every free moment was spent weeding, mowing, fertilizing and the like, with nothing to show for it.

One of their neighbors finally took pity on the young couple and called Jenn one morning with a slice of salvation; her gardener, a man named Tim Wills. He wasn't cheap, but he was good, and the neighbor was certain that Tim could have their yard turned around in no time. Steven didn't even put up a fight. They called Tim immediately and made an appointment for the following Saturday.

After an exhaustive interview (he of them, not the other way around), Tim agreed to take them on as clients. However, when he told them his fee, the couple flipped. There was no way they could afford to pay what he asked. He explained that their property was in horrible condition, and that it would require a lot of work to get it in shape.

After several rounds back and forth, he finally agreed to accept a lower flat monthly fee, with the understanding that he could come by as often or as little as he felt was necessary, and that he could reserve the weekends for his higher paying clients.

As a consultant, Steven worked out of his basement as much as he did his office. Frequently, he was around the house when Tim came to work on the yard. On these days, he usually tried to work in a hard workout and a long shower before he settled down to several hours crunching numbers on the computer.

At first, he didn't think much of the fact that that Tim seemed to spend a lot of time coming in and out of the basement (most of the tools and supplies were kept down there) when Steven was there, but after a few weeks it became obvious that Tim always showed up on the days that Steven worked at home, even if he worked at home all week. And during the hour or so that he worked out in the morning, Tim needed a lot more tools and supplies from the basement than at any other time. One night during dinner, he mentioned something about it to Jenn.

"Maybe he has a crush on you," she teased through a mouthful of spaghetti.

Steven winced. "Well, maybe we'll just have to find out."

Jenn put her fork down and fixed Steven with a stare that could peel paint. "Steven Jacobs, don't you dare! If you say anything to that man, I'll break your legs! Of all the stupid..."

Instinctively, Steven backpedaled. "Jenn, come on. I would never do anything like that." He tried to make light. "Besides, who would mow the lawn?"

She picked up her fork and began eating again, but he could tell that she was still afraid he might do something to embarrass them. Unfortunately, she'd set his mind reeling. Maybe Tim did have a thing for him!

Client projects kept him in the office for the next few weeks, and Steven pretty much forgot about the dinner conversation until the next time he was working at home. As usual, Tim seemed to need an awful lot from the basement during Steven's workout. On a whim, he decided to shower in the basement instead of going upstairs to the master bedroom like he normally did.

The bathroom in the basement had a gym style shower stall with a flimsy curtain. Playing his hunch, Steven made sure to "forget" to close the bathroom door, and didn't pull the curtain all the way closed while he showered.

At 6'1", 200 lbs., his daily workouts did a good job of keeping Steven fit and lean. His chest and stomach were chiseled from his efforts, and his skin was deeply tanned from all of the weekends he had spent outside wrestling with his yard. His blonde hair, closely cropped, was slightly lighter than the yellow curly pubic hair that circled the base of his cock.

Steven heard Tim pause at the top of the stairs, and suspected that the sound of running water confused him. Before he could chicken out, he squeezed a huge blob of shampoo into his hands and lathered his hair and face, shutting his eyes and facing out toward the door. He heard Tim's footsteps stop pretty close to the bathroom door, and willed himself to calmly continue massaging his hair and scalp. Steven managed to stay in that position for several minutes before turning to rinse off. Just as he was getting the last of the shampoo out, he heard Tim go to the storage closet, rummage around, then hurry up the stairs. As soon as he heard the door close upstairs, he hopped out of the shower, got dressed, and went to the office. That night, he tried to tell Jenn about happened.

"Sweetheart, remember what you said about Tim a few weeks ago?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yes, what about it?" she asked warily.

"Well, today I caught him looking at me while I showered," he said, taking a sip from his water glass.

"You what!?! What was he doing in our bedroom!?! Did you hit him? Did you call the police?" she sputtered.

Things were spiraling out of control. "Hold on," he said, holding up his hand. " It wasn't like that; I was in the bathroom downstairs."

"Downstairs? Why were you showering downstairs?" she asked, the wariness creeping back into her voice.

"I thought maybe I could test him, to see if maybe..." and he proceeded to recount the story of how he conducted his little "experiment" this morning.

Unfortunately, he missed all of the warning signs. Her blues eyes grew cloudy, her chest started to heave, and her face got redder and redder as he progressed through the story of the set up and its conclusion. "I cannot believe you! You paranoid homophobe!" she exploded.

"What did I do?" he asked, confused by her reaction.

"You are a fucking idiot!" she screamed, and stormed upstairs.

That was last night. Steven had slept on the couch, tossing and turning uncomfortably, trying to figure out a way to get her to see things his way. In the wee hours of the morning, an idea came to him.

When she came downstairs he had breakfast waiting, his sign that he wanted to make up. Grudgingly she ate while he watched her, waiting for her to indicate that they'd reached a truce.

"I was hoping you could come home for lunch today. I'm working on a deadline, but I'd really like to show you that I'm sorry for last night," he said, trying to gesture seductively. Instead, he succeeded in looking pathetic, which made her burst out laughing.

"Sure, I can come home. How about 11:30?"

Steven smiled. "That'd be great! See you then."

He leaned over to kiss her goodbye, but she turned her cheek to him. Fine, he thought; just wait. After she left, he cleaned up the dishes and went upstairs get some restful sleep. Around 9:30, the sound of the front door opening downstairs woke him. By the time he pulled on a pair of boxers and walked downstairs, Tim was already in the kitchen.

"Hey Tim, how's it going?" Steven asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Oh, hello Mr. Jacobs," Tim said.

Steven noticed that Tim's eyes kept darting to his crotch. He tried to make believe that he wasn't aware.

"I was going to use the mower this morning. That won't disturb you, will it?"

"Nope, that's fine. I'm just going to work out and then do a little work around the house," Steven said, turning and walking down the stairs to the basement, trying to hide a smile.

As soon as he was at the bottom, he dashed over to his weight bench and stripped off his underwear. He could not believe what he was about to do. It seemed to make so much sense lying on the couch at 3:30 this morning, but now he was a little worried about what might happen if he was wrong. There really would be no way to explain his actions, and he'd probably be facing criminal charges. At the very least, he'd be the laughingstock of the neighborhood if anyone found out.

"Too late for that now," he said to himself as he turned on a portable CD player, lowered himself down on the bench, and began working out totally nude. His cock lay thickly to the side across his thigh. The leather of the bench was cool under his ass and balls. It didn't take long for him to work up a sweat, and part way through his second set, he heard Tim start down the stairs. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his exercises, as if what he was doing was the most natural thing in the world.

The basement's layout ensured that as soon as Tim got to the bottom of the stairs, he'd have to turn, and would have a clear view of Steven lying there spread-eagle. He heard Tim's footsteps stop as he turned, followed by a loud clatter as the hedge clippers hit the ground. He sat up suddenly.

"What was that?"

"Sorry Mr. Jacobs. I guess you startled me."

Steven blushed. "Oh, sorry about that. I ran out of clean exercise clothes, and I figured that I'd probably be alone," he said pointedly. Then he looked around, like he was searching for something to cover up.

"Hey, no problem. We're all guys here, right?" Tim said, laughing weakly. "I'm just going to get a nozzle for the hose and go back upstairs."

Tim's eyes rested on Steven's cock when he'd said, "hose", which made it twitch a little. Leaning back on the bench, he spread his legs wide and resumed his exercises.

"Okay then, Tim. Sorry again about the scare."

Tim hurried into the storage closet, got what he was looking for, and shot back up the stairs. Steven started laughing so hard he almost dropped the barbell. However, in no time, Tim was back, asking long and involved questions that allowed him to stand near the bench. After the fourth time, Steven got up and showered quickly, again not bothering to close the door or pull the curtain all the way shut. When he was done, he dried himself and walked upstairs to the kitchen.

(next)

This story was split into 2 parts. Jump to any of the segments from here:
1|2
Note: This story was originally submitted as one long story
and it was only broken into 2 parts for faster page loading.

Another top quality story by Bob Peale.

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