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THE CARPENTER

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by Ray A My neighborhood, which is in the process of being yuppyfied, is still a comfortable mix of the old and the new even though the generations-old Mom & Pop stores are rapidly being replaced with chain coffee houses, up-market boutiques and gourmet food shops. Almost directly across the street from my house is a family owned carpenter shop. Gabriel, who runs it with his young brother now that his father is retired, is of Mexican descent. While his father and brother are both short and swarthy, Gabriel obviously takes after the Spanish side of the family. He’s tall, about six feet, has jet black hair, blue eyes, fair skin and the most perfect set of white teeth north-of-the-border. He’s also muscular, he prefers to work with hand tools rather than power equipment, always shows a significant basket in his faded cutoffs, has the legs of a long distance runner and a killer smile. I’ve lusted after him ever since I moved into the neighborhood and have spent much more money than necessary having book cases built, kitchen cabinets refinished and hard wood floors laid. Anything to get him alone so I can watch his magnificent physique. He works hard and the room he’s working in is quickly filled with the heady aroma of working man sweat. He never seems to mind when I let my hand linger on his muscular arm, as I thank him for a job well done, or let my eyes wander toward his bulging crotch while he sprawls in a easy chair in my living room having a beer after he’s finished his work. Gabriel likes to talk about school, he goes to a community college at night and wants to be an architect, his family, he is very close to his younger brother, and occasionally about his girl friends. “Las mujeres, nomás no saben mamar verga,” he said one afternoon after he’d had three or four beers, “por mucho que tratan, nomás no pueden.” What does that mean, I asked? “Girls can’t suck cock worth a shit, no matter how hard they try they just can’t seem to get it right,” he said with a big, wicked smile. “Maybe you’re just too big,” I said as I watched him rearrange his basket. “Maybe so,” he said as he stretched his legs and flexed his massive hands, “but I hope not. A good blow job is better than pussy sometimes.” Even though I was pretty sure he knew that I’ve had the major hots for him, he never gave me any indication that I could do more than look, lightly touch and lust until a few days before Christmas when I took a large bottle of Jack Daniels to his shop. It was late in the afternoon and Gabriel was working alone. “Feliz Navidad,” (Merry Christmas) I said as I handed him the gift wrapped bottle, “this is from Santa Clause and thanks for making my house look so beautiful.” “You’re more than welcome, Señor,” he said as he flashed his killer smile, rearranged the bulge in his cut offs and shook my hand. I looked in his blue eyes and held on to his large, calloused hand. “Santa left you a present as well,” he said as he let go of my hand, walked across the sawdust strewn floor, closed and locked the door and turned off the lights. He leaned against the rough whitewashed wall, spread his long, muscular hairy legs, stripped off his sweat-stained T-shirt, dropped his cutoffs to the floor and pushed off his gym shoes and white socks. He wasn’t wearing any underwear and a wave of man aroma; feet, head cheese, arm pit and crotch sweat washed across the small room like a tidal wave. “This is your present,” he said as he pointed to eight inches of rock hard, uncut, fat, blue veined cock whose long puckered foreskin was glistening with pre-cum, “I hope it’s something you’ll enjoy.” I stood in front of him and let my eyes drink in his magnificent body.His muscles were long, lean and well developed, black patches of wet black hair flared from under each arm pit and there was a trail of dark hair that ran from between his pecs to the tangle of black hair at the base of his cock. His bull balls hung loosely between his legs. “Start wherever you wish,” he said as he raised his arms above his head and closed his eyes, “and take all the time you want.” I began by licking the sweat from the strong, sinewy muscles in his thick neck and then buried my mouth and face in his warm, wet arm pits and sucked out his pungent man nectar. As I was sucking on his hard nipples and lapping the sweat between his pecs, Gabriel stuck his index finger into his long foreskin and then put it in my mouth. “I knew you’d like the taste of that,” he whispered and he rubbed my teeth and lips with his finger, “my girl friend says it tastes just like honey. Horney man honey.” With my hands on his tight, muscular buns, I lowered myself so that I could lick his six-pack abs and suck the sweat out of his belly button. Gabriel moaned, turned around to face the wall, and pulled his ass cheek apart. “There’s more horney man honey in there,” he said. The insides of his ass cheeks were covered with moist, downy black hair and his hole was tight and pink. When I buried my face in his crack and began to plow his hole with my tongue, he pulled his ass cheeks even wider apart and my tongue slipped inside him. After I’d tongue fucked him, I slid down and licked the sweat off the insides of his knees and the backs of his hairy legs. He turned around and lifted his right foot, which was clean and smelled of gym socks and sneakers, toward my hungry mouth. As I held his long, lean foot and stared at his beautifully manicured toes, he began milking his eight inch piece of meat until long, clean strands of pre-cum were dripping out of his foreskin onto his feet. “More horney man honey for you,” he said. After I’d licked the sweet pre-cum off his feet like a man dying of thirst in the desert would have savored a few, precious drops of rain water, Gabriel began to probe my lips and the inside of my mouth with his long, tapered toes which has whispy tufts of black hair on them. As I was sucking on his toes, which were like small, beautiful cocks, he pulled me up so that my lips were touching his foreskin. Holding onto his steel rod with my right hand, I began to fondle his big, loose sack of bull balls with my left as I pushed my tongue inside the velvet folds of his puckered foreskin and sucked out glob after big glob of pre-cum out of his wide piss slit. He put his hands behind my head and turned me against the wall as he pushed the fat head of his cock in my mouth. I held on to his beautiful, hard, buttocks as he began to inch his monster cock down my throat and fuck my face. I was determined not to disappoint him like his girl friend and I swallowed all eight inches until my face was buried in the thick, sweaty tangle of his crotch hair. He began to pump faster and faster and held my head tight against him. His cock began to swell and I could feel the blood pumping through the thick, blue veins that ran from the base of his man meat to the tip of his long foreskin. Suddenly, he moaned and then let wave after wave of hot, thick, white cum pour down my throat. I swallowed every drop of his baby juice and kept his cock in my mouth until it began to soften. When he pulled his still half-hard cock out of my mouth, he looked at me and smiled as I licked the last drops of cum off his shaft and out of foreskin. “You don’t have to wait for Christmas,” he said as he pulled back his skin and rubbed the purple head of his cock against my face and lips, “Santa’s here every day.”

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