Mr Walkowski

I had been mowing Mr. Walkowski's lawn for years now but this was the first time he had ever invited me in. I had just killed the lawn mowers engine and was loading it back up onto my truck (somehow, even though this was the summer before my sophomore year in college I was still mowing lawns for money - go figure) when he walked over to me.

"Sure is hot today. Why don't you come inside?" He said. Then he turned and walked back into the house. I stared at his big broad shoulders as he walked away. Um, okay, I thought to myself. Mr. Walkowski has never been one to shoot the shit. When he first hired me, he shook my fifteen year-old hand and then briefly described how he wanted his yard mowed. Then he walked back into his house and came out again only when I was done with my check. He would occasionally ask about school but there was always this professionalism with him, even when he was being casual with me.

The problem always was, though, I had trouble saying anything back to him. He was so hot. He had wide, muscular shoulders, with beautiful bicep arms and a back that tapers to a trim waste. His chest was developed with a bit of hair and below were abs that were slightly obscured by his stomach. He had thick dark brown hair, flecked with grey and sharp, probing blue eyes. I always managed to cover, but I was so powerfully attracted to him that my brain truly had difficulty functioning.

I followed him into his house. It was sparsely furnished but tastefully done in subdued colors. He indicated I should sit at the kitchen table and he poured me a glass of water. I drank it gratefully. He stood behind me and unsure of what was going on, I kept slowly sipping the water.

"I asked you in here," he began, "to talk about what you want."

Danger. I didn't know what to say, was this some sort of weird interview? Then I suddenly felt his two warm hands on my neck. I immediately tensed up and then slowly relaxed as he rubbed my neck muscles.

"Yet I see that you are full of fear." As if to accent that he reached one of his hands forward and wrapped it firmly around my neck. Then he released and sat in the chair next to me, looking me straight in the eye. The room went still.

"What do you want?" he asked me.

"A car and good grades?" I replied. He gave a minute shake of his handsome head. "Josh, you've mowed my lawn for four years. Almost every month I watched you, this kid, mow my lawn. I've seen the way you look at me. Now you're not a kid anymore. I know what I want. The question is: what do you want ... from me?" He repeated.

I was trapped. I couldn't pull myself away from his tractor-beam gaze and I felt something rise up from deep inside of me. What did he want from me? What did I want from him? Oh, but I knew that. I knew what I wanted from him. I'd known it every since I felt his hand grasp mine that very first time. Something that I never thought I would say or acknowledge. And then somehow, independent of my will, I heard my voice say:

"I really want you to fuck me."

Silence.

His expression was unreadable. He leaned forward. The gap between us shrunk so that now all I could see were his eyes and all I could feel was his breath and the heat radiating him.

"I know baby boy." He said. Then he kissed me. His lips were soft and powerful at the same time. They sucked on my lower lip, then pressed on mine and drew me into his. I reached up so I wouldn't flail about and put my hand on his shoulder. It was warm and solid and filled my grasp. I pulled myself into him and he wrapped his strong arms around me. He pulled me up on my feet as he stood up and then kissed me on my cheeks, on my forehead, on my ears and on my eyes. He snaked one hand down to fondle the mounds of my ass. He pushed on my ass to grind his crotch into mine. Then he pulled back and looked at me and said

"You are a beautiful young man."

Then he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and carried me into his bedroom. He tossed me onto the bed and then pounced on top of me. At last I could feel that delicious weight of him. I spread my legs and wrapped them around him. He rubbed himself up and down on me, burying his face in to my neck. I clutched his back, his arms, and the tops of his tight bubble butt. His cock was like a lead pipe churning into my upper thigh. I reached down one hand to grasp it. It was huge. A cudgel made of rock. Kind of like mine.

We were finally stripped, I got to see him in all his manly glory and there I was in mine. He reached down and rolled me on my side. And gently started to lube my ass. The pressure down there, as he ran his fingers in circles around and around my pucker felt so yummy. I started wiggling my butt in response. Then he finally pushed a finger into me and something strange happened. I got a little less turned on. He gently worked a second finger in and I felt uncomfortable. By his third finger I didn't like it all. He laid me on my back and said, "Are you ready baby?" and he positioned the tip of his cock head at the entrance to my anus. I shouted out

"Wait, stop!" He stopped and rubbed my legs.

"Why?" he asked.

"It doesn't feel good." I said. He just looked at me.

"Why not?" He asked again. Fuck him, I thought, frustrated, I don't know why it doesn't feel good, it just doesn't, even though this is exactly what I've wanted for four years.

"Joshua, tell me why." He repeated, this time stroking my hair.

"I'm afraid it's going to hurt." I said, the words not wanting to come out.

"It may, the pain will subside and then you'll feel good. All you have to do is relax and trust me."

"No!" I said, the word ripping out of me. He looked up at me. "Josh," he said, "tell me the real reason why it doesn't feel good." I suddenly felt very vulnerable, lying there prone and naked with this hulk of a man above me.

"I'm afraid to get fucked," I began and my fucking eyes got watery, but I kept going; the words tore my chest open, "because it will make me girly. I don't want to be your bitch or anyone's. I hate that I want to get fucked b/c I hate feeling weak and girly."

He didn't speak at first, just kept gently stroking my chest. Then he looked in my eyes.

"Listen, you're gay, like me. You have a feminine side." He said.

I squirmed, but he just nodded. "This feminine side is wonderful - we somehow get taught by this stupid society that being feminine is a bad thing - but it's great, it allows to think and feel in so many different ways. It helps us love and it makes you strong and resilient. Just because you have a feminine side doesn't mean you're weaker than anyone else, you're a strong, loving guy."

"But I hate myself for being weak." My insides were all wadded tight like a ball of aluminum. The last thing I wanted to do was unravel them. He looked at me again with that expression that was paradoxically blank yet somehow compassionate and said:

"Let it go." He stroked the inside of my legs, my balls, my cock. He caressed the ripples of my abs and tweaked my nipples. Then, lastly, he put one hand by my cheek and rubbed the back of my head. We looked at each other for minutes, and then, oddly, I nodded. He aimed the tip of his cock and pushed at my sphincter. He pushed slowly, ever so slowly. It felt like a warm pressure, relentlessly going into me, somehow my body found ways to keep stretching and accommodating it. I liked it, it felt like all the unexplained wet dreams I'd ever had - good but different from the feelings I get from my cock.

Then he pushed in through the outer ring and hit a wall. As if outside of my control I spasmed and clenched my ass tightly. He held my sides and made eye contact with me.

"Let me in." He said softly. "Let me in, baby." My ass blossomed and he slipped in farther, carrying that pressure deeper inside of me. It felt warm and hot, I felt it in the back of my head, like a fever ache. I sucked in my breath and clenched again. My eyes were closed and I felt his fingers on my jaw, massaging it. "Relax baby, let me in." He spoke to me. "Relax, baby, trust me." I didn't even realize I was grinding my teeth until I stopped. I took a deep breath and looked at him. "It's me, Mr. Walkowski, Joshua. Let me in baby." The stillness of those words, their meaning, soaked me beneath my skin. I smiled. Then I felt it. His massive tree root of a cock slid all the way into me. It wasn't an invasion; it was the completion of a circuit. His pubic hair mingled with me.

He smiled at me. I don't think I'd ever seen his smile before it changed his entire face. Then he winked "Hey sexy baby." He said. The unbearable pressure disappeared and I laughed back. Then he pulled on his cock and then pushed and suddenly I came alive down there.

"Oh my God!" I said. It was that deep resonating pleasure inside of me - like waves of hot dripping goodness.

"You like that baby?" he asked. I did, I really fucking did. He began to increase his rhythm, jolting my prostate every time he touched it and I stayed as loose and receptive as a goose.

"Mr. Walkowski, slide that monster into me!" He started to pump me faster and faster. This was it, this was my dessert. "Oh baby," he kept chanting like it was a mantra. "Oh baby."

I could not fucking believe it. There was nothing I could do but ride that tidal wave cock. "Do it to me baby!" I shouted. I groaned. I writhed - my arms were writhing about - there was nothing to hold on to - there was nothing to do, except to just feel it. Oh baby. I dove into it and let go. I felt it build. It was independent of me, like I was on the sidelines watching the coming storm, but I knew I was about fall through the floor and shoot through the sky.

"Ah man, Mr. Walkowski, Fuck me, baby! Fuck me harder!" He bent over and scooped me in his arms. He ploughed my ass. Oh baby. I wrapped myself around him and he dug his face into my neck, licking and shouting and moaning - it was beyond him also. Then finally three quick jabs with his hips - I came on the second one. I shot all over myself. My eyes rolled back in my head and all I could do was scream and hold on to him and hoped that I would come back down. I felt him cum inside my ass, one of his arms smashed my hips into his while his crotch spasmed again and again into mine.

Then it was over. For the longest time we lay there, him on top of me, crunched together. All I could feel was the beating of my heart. All I could hear was the him breathing raggedly into my ear. Then slowly, ever so slowly, I came back to me and he came back to him. We were able to disengage and rolled slightly to my side. Then it was lot's of kisses. The most wonderful, sweaty, tender kisses all over my face, his neck.

He drew a lazy line down from my neck into a circle around my chest. I finally recovered the ability to speak.

"That was," I paused, gathering my thoughts, "the fucking hottest psychotherapy ever."

He laughed and laughed and jumped on top of me and kissed me again. His dick started to twitch in between my legs.

"Mr. Walkowski," I whispered, "I have wanted to have sex with you in your kitchen, on your lawn in your shower, in my room" He smiled again. The most glorious thing.

"We have all summer." He said.

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written by morpheusrose