Lawn Service

The noise was deafening. The big lawn mower was criss-crossing the stretch of grass between the house and the pool, carving even stripes into the blue-green fescue. It had been a long winter, cold and gray. This was the first really beautiful day of spring, hovering at 78 degrees. My blonde hair had gotten dark, my flesh white and pasty. I longed for the caress of summer. The sun was warm and felt good on my naked skin. I was trying to get some color. I watched the guys from the lawn service swarm over the property like ants, trimming and edging as the mower moved across the green. Dust rose into the air, and I felt it drifting down onto my oiled skin. I thought, maybe I had better move indoors for a while until these men finish their work.

I had used this service for several years. The guys were different every season. I guessed they got paid minimum wage, and cutting grass is not a career, after all. In any case, the gang of latin dudes working on my lawn were all strangers to me, except for one man who seemed to have been on the team since I contracted with them five years ago. His name was Manuel. I assumed he was the lead worker, supervisor for the rest of the motley crew. He was a big man, maybe 6’4”, about 28 or maybe 30 years old. His head was typically wrapped in a blue bandanna; his dark oily hair pulled tightly into a pigtail that ran down his neck and stopped between his shoulder blades. Usually shirtless, Manuel’s back and shoulders were tanned a deep, rich copper color. His broad, heavily muscled chest was almost hairless except for curly black tufts that grew around each of his tits like little black halos. His belly was well defined, abs rippling down to his belt. I could see a strip of paler tan skin at his waist, where the band of his plaid boxers blocked the tanning rays of the sun. He was always sweating, glistening drops beading on his forehead and rivulets of salty perspiration streaming down his thickly muscled back, staining the back of his pants dark.

I usually offered them something to drink, so I figured I might as well go inside and get them a pitcher of lemonade. As I passed the guys, I felt them gawking at me, staring at the tall blonde man from an entirely different world than theirs. They had me figured out, I guess. I could feel their eyes on me, smirks on their macho brown faces. God, Latin guys are very sexy! Manuel was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him over the mower’s powerful exhaust. He stopped the machine.

“Hola! How’ve ya been, Mr. Gordon? Your lawn needs much work to get it ready for the summer. I‘ll take good care of it for ya, Mr. Gordon.”

I smiled and thanked him, and entered the cool air of the kitchen to get Manuel and the boys a drink. The men approached me as I brought the pitcher back out and set it on the patio table. They bantered with each other in Spanish, joking and nudging each other as they poured themselves a drink. I stood on the patio with them, my skin already getting a first touch of tan and the blue Speedo I wore pulling tightly across my butt. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I was sure the joke was at my expense. I looked back to see Manuel watching me as I returned to the house. His gaze ran up my legs, hesitated at my ass, and continued up my golden back to lock on my eyes. He shot a big, brilliant grin at me and turned away.

Man, they certainly have enough testosterone among them! I could smell the masculinity coming off their spicy macho bodies like musky perfume. Latinos are always stereotyped as a very hot-blooded, sexual race, and I could see why. I began to imagine what it would be like to experience these fiery men, to be held firmly in their sweaty arms, feel their muscular chests pressed against mine, to take them into me... I went into the den, and pulled the blinds open a few inches so I could watch them as they toiled in the garden. My hand instinctively reached into my Speedo, and I grabbed my hardening dick in my hand. I watched their broad shoulders flex and thick muscular legs bow as they grunted around the flower beds, pulling the brown remains of last year’s blooms.
I pulled my swimsuit down around my thighs and began to jerk myself. I imagined their thick Latino cocks hovering over my face, dripping sweat and pre-cum on my waiting lips. Strong, athletic hips pushing a huge uncut dick into my quivering asshole... It wouldn’t take long, I was getting close. I decided to let myself cum, daydreaming about these cocky Latinos in my yard. I was alone in the house, but something made me look over my shoulder. There, hovering in the other window across the room was Manuel. He stood there for several seconds, his eyes adjusting to the dim light that he was looking into. He pulled the bandanna off his head and wiped the perspiration from his forehead with it. His eyes opened wide, and I saw that big, toothy smile flash from under his pencil-thin moustache. He lingered there, focused on me, rubbing his bare chest with the bandanna in lazy circles, smearing dust into his sweaty flesh. He turned and swaggered down the driveway towards the truck.

Manuel had certainly seen what I was doing. He didn’t seem embarrassed by his discovery, but rather seemed to have enjoyed the view. He stood there in the window long enough to get a very good look at my naked backside, my smooth shoulders and firm creamy-white ass. The other men followed him back to the truck, and a couple minutes later I watched it rumbling down the drive towards the main road. I finished myself off, lobbing a thick wad of cum onto the window ledge.

My tan was really developing. In just a week my skin had become a rich, golden brown. My hair, always blonde, became brighter on top where the sun touched it. I lay in the chaise, stretching like a cat and enjoying the heat of the day. The light reflected off the water in the pool, illuminating the underside of the umbrella on the patio. The warm breeze shook the leaves on the stand of birch trees, and ruffled the volleyball net strung across the pool. I smeared more oil onto my shoulders, rubbing it into my nicely developed chest, letting my palm slide across my flat stomach and around my hips. I didn’t have a suit on today: I was home alone, and didn’t expect any visitors. My hand fell between my legs and I spread some tanning oil on my inner thighs, letting my greasy fingers roll around between my butt cheeks.

I glanced behind me. Suddenly standing at the edge of the pool was Manuel. He looked awesome. His hair was not in the usual pigtail, but hung loosely around his shoulders. His mane was glossy and black, glistening in the sunlight. His face was clean-shaven except for thick sideburns that ran down his cheeks and the neatly trimmed moustache on his upper lip. He wore a tight olive-colored tank top that revealed his perfect arms and clung to his wide pectorals. Manuel’s cargo shorts were pulled low on his hips, revealing the elastic of his underwear. His powerful legs were like twin pillars of muscle and sinew below the shorts, ending in athletic socks and heavy construction boots. He had been watching me again, which turned me on. I liked the idea that this big fucking Latino enjoyed looking at my body.

“Sorry, man... I mean Mr. Gordon, Umm, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I jus’ wanted to take care of that birch at the end of the patio. It needs to come down. Listen, man, I can come back...”

I got up and wrapped a towel around my naked waist, covering my hardening dick from his view. I couldn’t help noticing that his dick was pretty damn hard too, and was straining against the fly of his shorts. He put his pruning shears down on a bench and walked to where I was standing. We faced each other. He towered over me, his massive chest almost touching my nose.

Manuel, please call me Jimmy. You don’t have to come back later. I want you to do whatever you need to do...with the birch, I mean!”

He got the message. Grinning, Manuel reached out and grabbed the knotted end of the towel, pulling it firmly downward until it slipped off my hips. My cock was completely erect, and stood out between us like a pole. He fumbled with his belt buckle, and opened the fly of his shorts. His huge cock strained against the thin fabric of his underwear. My eyes followed his dark, curly black pubic hair as it sprang from his waistband and crawled up his hard belly. His shorts dropped to the cement. I reached into his boxers and released his cock, pulling the elastic band under his heavy pendulous balls. Manuel was uncut, about 9 inches of dark richly textured Latin meat.

I reached under his tank and caressed the tight muscles of his back and shoulders as he ran his rough hands over my smooth, hairless chest. He pulled on my nipples with his calloused fingers until I moaned with pleasure. I loved his exotic, grinning face. He pulled me closer, and our lips met. I ran my fingers through his long, wavy hair, holding him tightly by the back of the head as he slipped his searing tongue into my mouth. His tongue burned my lips like a hot poker. He kicked off his shorts and pulled his boxers off his legs. I lifted his tank top over his wide shoulders, exposing his massive chest, covered in a glistening expanse of deep copper skin.

“Manny...Call me Manny. Damn, I want you so bad, dude. You gonna let me do whatever I need to do, huh? Well, right now, I need to get my dick in that big beautiful ass of yours! I think it’s what you need too, isn’t it?”

“The house is empty, Manny. Wanna go inside with me?”

“Fuck, yeah, Jimmy! I’m gonna make you sing! You ain’t never been fucked till you been fucked by me, baby!