Toolbox

Posted by: Author: Age: 44 Posted on: 0 comments
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True story

 

My wife and I have a neighbour Bob, who is divorced and has a college-age son living with him. Yesterday morning was Saturday and I was puttering around the garage when Bob walked over and asked to borrow a screwdriver. I said sure, so we went to look for the one he needed.



The way my garage is arranged, there is a kind of enclosed cubby hole toward the back where all the tools are arranged. As we walked around the shelf into the area where the tools are, Bob noticed my Playboy calendar on the wall; Miss April was looking quite welcoming.



As I searched through the toolbox looking for a screwdriver, I noticed a tent popping up in Bob's sweat pants. 'Miss April is working her magic on you, I see', I said with a laugh.



'Sorry, man', Bob said, 'I don't date much and even an innocent picture like that gets me going.'



'No prob,' I said with a smile, 'actually, I come out here to rub one out now and then.' I then pulled a more explicit mag from my stash. 'Take a look at this.' By now, I was tenting a bit, too.



'Hot,' Bob said as he flipped through the pages of the magazine.



I was now feeling pretty horny and excited by this unexpected situation with Bob. 'Hey,' I said, 'let's rub one out, I haven't cum in a few days and let's just say my wife isn't into it as often these days.'



Bob didn't say anything, but pulled down his grey sweats to his thighs, setting his hard dick free. I unzipped and pulled out my dick and we started stroking, wordlessly.



After a few minutes, we heard the door from the house open and we froze, dicks in hand. 'Bryan, are you out here?' my wife called.



'Uh, yeah,' I answered, 'Bob's here, give me a minute, we're working with some tools.' Bob stifled a laugh as I said that.



'Hi, Bob,' she called, 'OK, well there's coffee if you guys want some.' And she shut the door.



'Oh, fuck,' Bob said, 'that was so hot to almost get caught like that. I almost came.' I laughed softly and started stroking, I was very close by then, too. After another few seconds, Bob shot, ropes of his semen splashing on the front of my Craftsman toolbox. I came a moment or two later, splashing my toolbox just like Bob had.



I grabbed a shop towel and we wiped our sticky fingers. Just then we heard Bob's son's voice. 'Dad, are you over here? I need the keys to your truck.'



'Yes, 'I'm here, son,' Bob said, 'The keys are on my desk with my sunglasses.'



'OK,' his son said, 'Where are you?'



'Back here,' I said, hurrying to get around past the shelves and stop him from walking back there so he wouldn't see our semen mingling as it dripped down the toolbox. Bob was right behind me with the screwdriver he wanted to borrow, but as I looked back at him I noticed a dark wet spot where his last drop of semen had soaked through his sweats. That almost made me hard again, and I wondered if his son would notice and ask him what the hell!



I am looking forward to another encounter with Bob if he is into it. But maybe when neither my wife or his son are home!

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