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Hanging Drywall

Can a young man really not know what he wants until he comes face to face with it?

It was the middle of August and the summer heat hadn’t yet arrived. It was beautifully warm, and indeed, very warm if you were working, but the mind-numbing stifling heat that usually arrived toward the end of summer hadn’t yet made an appearance.

Logan Ellison was a relatively young entrepreneur who believed in sustaining the past as he pushed ahead to the future. He’d bought this 1930 era house built in the style of Le Corbusier but left to deteriorate until it was almost a ruin.

He was spending a lot of money to resuscitate it, which meant ripping out much of the original lathe and plaster interior which had suffered extensive water damage and replacing it with today’s material, but keeping the integrity of the building.

Scott Lassiter, the head of the work crew, was pleased that they were actually a little ahead of schedule, and with luck might beat the arrival of the heat. Part of the reason for their efficient progress was that he’d hired the best workers he could find.

Dean McMasters was one of those workers. Although only twenty-six, he was an expert with hanging drywall. He could easily read blueprints and cut outlet holes in a sheet with no errors. With a lift, he could do a ceiling without anyone helping him. His handling of the tape to hide butt and corner joints went smoothly, and when he completed the spackling walls they could be painted with no other preparation.

He was also one of those people who had outstanding good-looks but acted as though he was unaware of his blessing. He knew his body was well developed because he’d worked on it. He also knew he was well endowed in the genital area because of his rash and rowdy life between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three. Many of the women he’d bedded had told him what he had been gifted with what most men would die for.

But even with these physical attributes he never tried to take advantage of them, or flaunt them to gain attention. They were simply parts of his being as were the color of his eyes or generosity of his spirit.

Those wild years had come about after the divorce of his strict, uptight parents. He had no desire to choose to live with either of them, and so having graduated from high school, he struck out on his own. The sudden liberty after a life of confinement had led him to go too far. He became a hedonist in all aspects, but he also devoted himself to work, and to becoming the best at what he did.

But after five years of mild debauchery, he met Sylvia and fell quickly and deeply in love. She was nothing like the women he’d made out with and yet she was nowhere near the prudishness of his mother. She was sweet, funny, gleeful and bright.

He got his act together, dated her, acted like a gentleman, impressed her with his attentions and his work ethic and won her over. They married just months after they met, and for three years the marriage been all they could wish for, including the mutual agreement to postpone starting a family for a few years until they were secure financially.

Ellison, the owner of the house, had worked out an arrangement before work had started, that the master bedroom and bath would be renovated first so that he could move in while the other work was being completed. The contractor had tried to persuade him not to follow through on his plan, as there would be constant noise, dust and inconveniences, but he had prevailed and so he was living there.

He had assured the contractor that it wasn’t because he didn’t trust him but rather, because he wanted to be a part of the rebirth of this historic house. And so it was he became aware of the existence of the extremely good-looking guy working with the plasterboard.

When Logan Ellison was sixteen he realized he was gay. When he was seventeen he had started his first business dealing with recycled electronics. A year and a half later he sold it and invested his substantial earnings into his next venture. Now, at the age of thirty-eight, he was worth a little over two million dollars, and showed no sign of slowing down.

He’d tried settling on one lover at a time, but none of the three he’d hooked up with had lasted. None of them could keep up with his high energy nor compete with his overriding interest in his business. There were still women who were unaware of his sexual preferences and yet saw only a physically attractive man who was also worth a lot of money.

Several organizations had named him bachelor of the year, some never knowing of their faux pas. And all who did business with him and knew where his interests lay accepted him because of his seemingly innate ability to make money.

Dean had heard of him being a whiz at business and was impressed that a guy so young had the fortitude to make his own way in the world. He’d also heard of his sexual proclivities, but didn’t dwell on them.

Several times he’d heard some of his coworkers make crude remarks and speculations about the man who was putting a lot of money in their pockets. One of the most prolific of the speculators was a guy Dean thought of as a slob, a jerk and a fuck-off on the job.

He made one remark that set Dean’s teeth on edge and he’d fired back at the goon.

“What the fuck do you care? He sure as hell isn’t hot for your stinkin’ ass.”

The target had shrugged and walked away without retorting.

Tucked somewhere deep in Dean’s sub-conscientiousness was a seed of guilt. When he was in his teens his older sister had taken an art history course and had a book of Greek and Roman sculptures that she had kept secreted from their parents.

Because he knew she had hidden it, he was curious and when he had a chance Dean had looked through it and been struck by the symmetry of the young athletic male bodies depicted. It had produced some sort of goal of perfection which had guided him in developing his own body. But it had also made him aware of the bodies of other guys he saw exposed at the gym, swimming pools, at track meets or anywhere else where they were nude or scantily clothed.

An amateur psychologist might tell you that seed of guilt was responsible for those early lecherous years, for proving his virility with those many young women.

And there were still times when he got an unexpected electric jolt by looking at a particularly well-built man. His feelings when seeing smooth flesh stretched over strong muscles would perplex him and a desire to touch would become entangled with shame. But he could soothe his ruffled feathers by remembering no one knew what he was experiencing.

One of the people whose body he “admired” was his current employer, Logan Ellison. Logan had learned long ago that a nice body was bait for attracting the men he desired. As a very young man he’d had to find ways to develop his physique, but when he’d become financially successful he’d engaged body trainers. When this house was complete it would contain a private gym with the latest equipment.

In the weeks he’d been working on the house, Dean had noted how well Logan’s clothes fit, whether wearing a three-piece Armani suit, or Hugo Boss chinos and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt or gym shorts and a tank top. He knew it wasn’t just the quality of the clothing, but was largely due to the frame upon which the clothing hung.

Logan Ellison’s success wasn’t only based on his being an astute businessman. He also understood human nature. He knew that to assure his house turned out as he wanted, it was necessary to frequently consult with the foreman, Scott Lassiter. But he also knew that constant surveillance could foster unrest, which could lead to sloppy work purposely being done.

He had used the pretense of needing to vacate where he’d been living, as an excuse to move into the master suite of this house. Therefore he had a reason to be coming and going every day.

He also knew that praise got better result than complaints, so he would often stop and make encouraging remarks to individual workers on work they were doing or had completed.

One of the workers he often complimented was the handsome young man who was installing the drywall. But in this case, it gave him the opportunity to linger and appreciate the roundness of Dean’s buttocks, the firmness of his biceps, the shape of his back, the curve of his neck, the strength in his legs, the bulge in his crotch.

And for the past few weeks, he had occasionally made comments calculated to make the young man more aware of him. Once he had watched, as with deft movements, Dean had applied long strips of joint-hiding tape without a mishap.

“Boy,” he’d said, “that tape covers that joint as smoothly as those jeans cling to your ass.”

Dean had been completely caught off guard and couldn’t find any words to say. He’d looked at Logan with his confusion clearly showing on his face. Logan had responded with a mischievous smile, which threw Dean even further off balance.

But it was only the first such comment.

And as they progressed Dean began to look forward to them. Some of them made him smile. Some surprised him. A few mildly embarrassed him. But all of them pleased him.

And sometimes Logan innocently remarked on an aspect of his musculature. Those times Dean could find the words to return the compliment, or to complete a short exchange about their comparative ways of working out.

But more often than not the comment would take him by surprise and he’d be unready to reply.

As when one day very recently Logan had just stopped and watched as Dean, who was up on some scaffolding, skillfully smeared spackle onto the sunken screws and with two swipes left the surface completely smooth. He noticed Dean looking around as if he’d dropped or lost something.

“Do you need me to hand you a tool?” he asked.

“No,” Dean said absently. “I have the only tool I need here.”

Without skipping a beat Logan said, “I bet you do. And I bet you know how to use it.”

Dean quickly looked at Logan. Logan gave him that wicked smile again and ran the tip of his tongue over his top lip.

Dean had known he was being flirted with, but it had only seemed like a harmless game, but now he realized he was being propositioned in a way it had never happened to him before. And he was intrigued.

How far would this go? How far would he go? He’d never been faced with such questions before, but he didn’t reflect on why he was thinking them now. He didn’t wonder why he was considering these questions, or their answers. What he did realize was that his cock was getting hard.

He’d only glanced at Logan, but now he looked back. Was this good-looking gay man who he held in high regard seriously offering him an experience he’d never had? Was it an experience he’d like to have? If so, then this was definitely the person he’d do it with.

Logan winked and turned and walked away.

That was on a Friday. Late Monday afternoon Dean was standing high on the scaffolding. He saw Logan conferring with Scott. He stood holding his hawk piled high with mud and his putty knife, watching Logan. When Logan turned in his direction and walked his way he quickly resumed spreading and smoothing the spackle. He steeled himself for the expected quip.

To his consternation, Logan passed without glancing up at him, but then turned back.

“Dean,” he began, calling him by his name for the first time. “I had the gym equipment installed over the weekend. Would you like to see it?”

“I... I,” he stammered, wanting to curse himself. “I’m working. I can’t stop. Thanks, but you know.”

“No, no. I didn’t mean right now. After you get off work.”

Dean’s mind and tongue wouldn’t work together.

“I have, I don’t think I can. I have to go home, you know, to my wife. She’ll be waiting, I think.”

“Oh, well. Tell you what. Think about it and I’ll check back in fifteen minutes.”

Logan turned and walked away. Dean stood still, watching him as he went up the staircase to the second floor. A few minutes later Dean climbed down from his perch and went to Scott.

“Lassiter, I was thinking. I could stay late tonight and finish up in the dining room, so then your boys can get in there first thing tomorrow morning.”

Scott frowned. “Sounds great McMasters, but I can’t authorize overtime. You know they want me to do everything to keep under budget.”

“Yeah, but what if I take half a day off later in the week. Just count it as regular time. It’ll only take me a couple of hours, three at the most.”

“And then you want to take off half a day?”

Dean shook his head. “No, man. I just said that. I could come in a couple hours late, or knock off early. I won’t try to screw you, man.”

Scott slowly nodded his head. “It would let me get the painters started early. Okay, but first I have to run it by Mr. Ellison. He might not want anybody hangin’ ‘round here.”


Dean went back into the dining room and swung back up on the scaffolding like an agile monkey. Logan came back down the stairs. He’d changed from his suit to a pair of cargo pants and a matching shirt. He looked great.


“Talk to Scott. Lassiter. He’ll explain.”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Logan talked to Scott, nodding his head and then patted Scott on the shoulder.

He came back by and without stopping said, “When you’re done, come upstairs. I’ll be waiting there.”

As Dean spackled over more screws he thought, ‘What the hell am I setting myself up for? And why?’

The crew knocked off at five, as usual. Dean called Sylvia on his cell phone and explained he was going to work until about nine, so not to wait dinner on him. He worked feverishly for the next two hours, making sure he wasn’t compromising the quality of his work, but knowing he had to finish this room before it got so late he’d have to head straight home.

It was almost eight by the time he’d completed the work, cleaned up his tools and torn down the scaffolding. He went up the stairs slowly, feeling as if he were trespassing, entering into someone’s private domain.

He hadn’t been here since he’d installed the drywall several weeks ago. Then everything had been raw. Now he was amazed at how it looked with the walls and woodwork painted, the floor tile, the window treatments, the lighting fixtures all installed.

He stopped at the top of the stair, not knowing which way to go.

“Hello,” he called out. “Mr. Ellison?” “Hello?”

A door opened and Logan came out.

“Okay, let’s start this by getting something straight. When you talk directly to me, I’m not Mr. Ellison. I’m Logan. You got that?”

He had spoken in the most serious tone, as though chastising an employee who’d made a serious business error. But then he grinned and laughed, making Dean feel much more comfortable.

“Got it,” said Dean, returning the smile. “Sorry, it’s so late. Is it too late?”

“No, not at all. Follow me,” and he turned toward the door to their right.

He opened it and went in, holding it back for Dean to enter. Dean stopped just inside the door, stunned. One side of the large room was floor to ceiling windows. The opposite wall was mirrored. Logan touched a switch on the wall and vertical blinds slid across the windows. Another button and the blinds closed.

There were half a dozen machines, such as a rowing machine, elliptical, a treadmill, each of them better than anything that was available at the gym Dean belonged to. There was a set of weights next to a bench plus kettlebells.

There were two punching bags, a chest press and a leg press, and a cable biceps/triceps bar.

Dean managed a “Wow.”

He walked around, touching a machine, almost caressing another. At the bench press, he looked at Logan. “Who spots you?”

“I got a guy who works with me a couple times a week,” was all Logan volunteered.

“A personal trainer?” asked Dean.

Logan was a little uncomfortable admitting to his ability to indulge, despite the obvious wealth on display.

“Yeah,” was all he said. He thought it best they leave the gym. “Come this way.”

He went through another door which led into a bathroom. Dean looked at the Jacuzzi bathtub, the glassed-in shower stall which looked large enough for four people. He counted three different shower heads. All surfaces were covered with pink marble. He’d never seen a bathroom this big or luxurious.

They went through another door and walked through a closet that was like a shrunken men’s clothing store. Rows of suits, slacks, coats and jackets and shirts lined the walls. Spaced between them were stacks of drawers and racks of shoes. Dean wondered how a man could ever wear all those clothes. His entire wardrobe would take up an eighth of one wall.

They went through, without stopping, into the bedroom. Again Dean paused just inside the door. The room appeared to be larger than his and Sylvia’s apartment. The king-size bed had a padded headboard that extended up to the ceiling. Opposite the bed was a fireplace flanked by two short sofas, each with its own coffee table. There were a couple of other chairs of different styles, small tables holding lamps, a desk and chair.

Other decorative chests and consoles were against the walls around the room. The entire room and its furnishings exhibited good taste and luxury. Unknown to Dean was the fact that a professional decorator had decorated the room, as she would the downstairs when the workers had completed their tasks.

Logan spoke for the first time since they’d left the gym. “I expect you’re hungry, so I got a little something for you – or rather, us.”

One on of the coffee tables was a warming tray with a dozen small pizzas, each about three inches in diameter. There were dishes of olives and peppers, pieces of crusty bread with little dishes of pesto in olive oil and frosted steins of beer.

“God, I hadn’t even thought about it, but yeah, I’m starving.”

Logan smiled, satisfied. “Then come on and dig in.”

Dean looked at the sofa. “I can’t sit on that. These jeans are filthy. My shirt too.”

Logan kind of scoffed, but didn’t say anything. He went to the bed and pulled off the heavy bedspread and let it drop on the floor. He grabbed a corner of the top sheet and walked around the bed, pulling it free from the mattress. Without saying anything he went to the sofa and threw the sheet across it.

“There. Now sit. No more bullshit.”

Dean lowered himself onto the sofa, not knowing what he should say. Logan sat down a couple feet from him. He handed Dean a small plate and a cloth napkin.

“Eat, for god’s sake. And tell me something about yourself.”

Dean took the plate and napkin, but waited for Logan to take the first pizza. “Like what? What do you want to know?”

“Just about everything, I guess. But why not start with where you’re from, your family, education, dog, first car. You know, your life.”

Dean had bitten into his pizza. ‘Shit,’ he thought, ‘this isn’t frozen crap. He ordered these from some fancy joint.’

For the next half hour, they ate and talked. Dean made several stabs at talking about his youth. When he faltered, Logan asked questions which easily put Dean back on track. Logan added to the dialog by telling things about his own life that resembled or contrasted with events in Dean’s life.

Logan refilled Dean’s beer stein. The alcohol helped loosen Dean’s tongue and put him more at ease. He spoke of the frustrations he experienced being brought up by parents who found sin in everyday life. Some of the tales he told were of the years of hedonism before he met his wife. He was neither ashamed of what he’d done, nor did he boast of his sexual accomplishments. Logan found these stories intriguing.

Their talk came around to their mutual interest in developing their bodies. They agreed that some guys took things too far, throwing proportion out of balance. Logan acknowledged he’d started exercising in earnest later in life than had Dean, and had not been as successful in reaching his goal.

Dean told Logan he thought Logan’s body was great for a man of his age and loved the way his clothes fit him. Logan ran his hand up under Dean’s shirt sleeve, telling him how his biceps and triceps were perfect for the rest of his body, and how much he liked the way blood vessels traced their way down his arm to his strong hands.

Dean said Logan’s body style made whatever type of clothes he was wearing look like he was a professional model, like you see in the ads. Logan unbuttoned the top two buttons of Dean’s shirt and slipped his hand in the opening. He ran his hand over Dean’s smooth, muscular chest and said he wished he could develop his chest like Dean had. He said Dean’s body reminded him of the classic marble sculptures he’d seen in Italian museums.

Dean remembered the pictures he’d seen in that book of his sister’s many years ago, and was pleased with the compliment. He idly watched Logan’s hand move down over his rippled abs. He unbuttoned two more buttons so Logan could move his hand more easily.

Logan moved his back up to Dean’s chest and with two fingers rubbed one of Dean’s nipples as it hardened. He withdrew his hand from Dean’s shirt and placed it on Dean’s denim covered thigh, saying how some guys ignored their legs but Dean’s were ideal for his torso.

He moved his hand up and rested it on Dean’s crotch. He waited a few seconds to see if there was a reaction. The only one he perceived was perhaps a slight firming under his hand.

He quietly asked, “Can I have that?”

It was lucky he was looking at Dean’s face instead of at his crotch, or he would have missed the almost imperceptible nodding of Dean’s head, giving him permission. Logan began to unbutton Dean’s jeans, half expecting Dean to take over. But this time Dean sat with both hands resting on the sofa beside his legs.

When Logan had the jeans unbuttoned Dean’s dick was fully erect, making it difficult to release from the confines of Dean’s boxers. He was pleased that Dean raised his hips from the sofa letting Logan pull them down to his knees.

Logan held Dean’s hard dick and looked at it. It was every bit as handsome as Dean’s face and as well formed as his body. He bent forward and kissed the tip where the piss hole was. Opening his mouth he pressed his tongue against the hole and then swirled it around, coating the glans with his saliva.

He covered the head with his open lips and pushed his head down, taking over half of it in his mouth. He paused and swirled his tongue around again, this time covering the circumference of the dick. He relished the feel of the strong muscle, the texture of the smooth skin, the silkiness of the head on his tongue.

Logan was particular about hygiene, and had always insisted his sex partners were as clean as he was. Now he was aware that Dean hadn’t bathed after this day’s work, but he didn’t find the odor that was emanating from between Dean’s legs offensive. It was the odor of hard earned sweat. It was the odor of the male animal. It was the odor of Dean.

Sylvia was a good lover and sex with her was very satisfying to Dean, but she didn’t care for oral sex, so it had been a couple of years since Dean had felt a mouth on his dick and he’d forgotten just how good it felt. Now his body and mind were responding to the sensation in unexpected ways.

He held his breath and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. A feeling of warmth spread out from his groin throughout his body, but at the same time, waves of shivers ran down his frame. He involuntarily put one hand on Logan’s back and one on the back of his head.

Logan moved his head up and down slowly, flicking his tongue over Dean’s dick as he did so. He’d go down as far as he could, leaving a couple of inches at the base to wrap his fingers and thumb around. He’d pause for a couple of seconds and then raise his head, forming a suction with his mouth.

He let the dick slip from his mouth and with his pursed lips and tongue spread his saliva on all sides of Dean’s dick. He had been holding Dean’s balls in his hand, gently squeezing them. Now he moved his tongue down and licked all over his ball sack and under it, savoring the faint taste of salt. He took each ball into his mouth, massaging them with his tongue.

Dean dug his fingers into Logan’s back and curled them through his hair. He opened his eyes and watched as Logan licked back up his dick and again took the head in his mouth. This was not only a man who was sucking his dick, but this was a man who he respected, a man he felt admiration for, a man he was attracted to. That last bit he quickly eliminated from his thoughts.

As much as he loved the feel of Dean’s dick in his mouth, Logan craved his cum. He began bobbing his head up and down rapidly while using the fingers and thumb with which he’d encircled Dean’s dick to jack it.

Small electric shocks shot through Dean’s body as if he was being randomly touched with a live wire. His body slightly jerked with each shock. The jolts coalesced in his genitals. His balls drew up and his dick twitched and sent his cum bursting free and flooding Logan’s eager mouth. Logan quickly swallowed spurt after spurt.

When the rapture subsided, Dean’s hands fell to his sides. As his erection softened Logan let it slip from his mouth and sat up. He looked at the fine young man who’s cum he’d just ingested. He was pleased.

Dean returned Logan’s gaze, but his face showed no emotion.

“Are you okay?” Logan asked.

Dean smiled a wide smile. “I’m great. Dope.”

Logan smiled and nodded his head. Just then Dean’s cell phone buzzed. He fumbled it out of his jean’s pocket, which was still down around his knees.

“It’s my wife,” he unnecessarily said.

“Hi, hon. I’m just finishing up... Yeah, I know, it’s almost ten… No, I’m cleaning up and putting everything away. I’ll be home in twenty minutes, thirty at the most… No, I ate… I ordered pizza... Okay… Okay… Yeah… Bye.”

He clicked the phone off and said, “I gotta go.”

“Obviously,” said Logan, stifling the urge to say ‘the old ball and chain’.

They stood and Dean pulled up his boxers and jeans. He tucked everything in, including his shirttail.

“How do I get out of here?” he asked, looking around at the several doors.

“I’ll walk you out,” Logan said.

They went out and down the stairs and through the ground floor. Logan stopped just outside the front door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He wanted to kiss Dean ‘goodnight’, but resisted.

Dean headed toward his pickup, but turned after he opened the door and waved before he got in and started the engine. On the way home, he thought to himself, ‘What did I do? Why did I do it? Shit, why did I like it so much? And you really did, you fucker. Why?’

Logan had gone back in and upstairs. He got out of his clothes and lay on his bed. His dick was hard in a minute and he jacked it, remembering in detail how Dean’s dick had felt in his mouth and the taste of his cum. He came, letting his cum fall on his stomach. He smeared it over his stomach and lay there for several minutes before getting up and going to the bathroom to clean himself off.

The next morning Dean found he was nervous about going to work. He told himself that was stupid. He hadn’t done anything. It was all Logan. And then again, he knew he had all the day before Logan would be there.

The night before he’d moved his equipment into the living room, which was the last room he had to do. He was doing his initial measuring when Scott Lassiter came in the room.

“Hey McMasters, that was a good thing last night. I can get the guys to do the woodwork in there today. How long were you here?”

“I got out of here at eight thirty.”

“Yeah, okay, so why don’t you take this afternoon off?”

“Today? I thought maybe Friday.”

Lassiter shook his head. “No, just get everything set up today. No use starting when you only got half a day to go. Set up today and then start fresh tomorrow.”

He turned and walked back out. Dean stood there for a couple of minutes. ‘Shit,’ he thought. Despite his previous nervousness, he’d been looking forward to seeing Logan that afternoon.

He called Sylvia and told her he had the afternoon off, if there was something she wanted to do. She said she wanted to go shopping. He could have predicted that. She’d been saying they needed a new sofa, and he had to admit the one they had was lumpy and pretty uncomfortable.

The next morning, he told Sylvia he might have to work late again that night. When she said she didn’t understand why, he lied and said they were running behind schedule and trying to catch up. It was all Scott’s fault. He seemed distracted lately. Sylvia speculated on what could be troubling him, and so forgot about the overtime.

By Wednesday evening Dean was in a state of agitation. For two days a jumble of unaccustomed thoughts had been swirling around in his head. All day he had to keep pulling himself back to reality. He didn’t want to fuck up on the work he was doing. He had to concentrate on things that usually were automatic.

By late afternoon one thought had implanted itself in his brain, and kept going round and round like a song you can only remember the first line of, and which repeats and repeats and repeats.

It was almost knocking-off time when Logan came in through the back rooms of the house. Dean was up on the scaffolding again, and cursed under his breath. He stopped the measuring he was doing and hooked his measuring tape to his tool belt. He was watching Logan and saw when Logan looked up at him and began to smile.

Dean swung down from the scaffolding and dropped to the floor.

Logan stopped and without a greeting Dean said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask anything you want.”

“Something personal?”

Logan shrugged. “I said anything.”

Although there wasn’t anyone within fifty feet of them Dean took a step forward until he was inches from Logan.

Logan could feel his breath on his cheek when he said, “Can I fuck you?”

Logan turned his head toward Dean and their noses touched. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Dean stepped back and Logan was smiling at him. “Tonight?”

Logan pursed his lips and frowned, but nodded his head and said, “Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll leave with the guys and double back.”

Logan gave a small smile, amused by the covertness. “And I’ll leave the door unlocked. Don’t knock. Just come on in.”

He didn’t think Dean realized he was making fun of him. He turned toward the stairs and looked back as he went up and winked.

The next half hour seemed to creep by, but at last, it was time to go. Dean walked out to his truck with some of his coworkers, said goodnight and climbed into his pickup.

He called Sylvia to remind her he would be home late. He didn’t know what time. No, don’t wait up for him. No, he’d get something to eat before he got home.

He drove away and a few blocks away pulled into a gas station. He went to the convenience store and got a six pack of Bud Light. He got back in the pickup and headed back to Logan’s house, keeping an eye out for any coworkers who might still be there.

He pulled up to the house and thought, ‘Shit, Bud Light? That beer we drank the other night was probably imported.’

He got out of the truck and went up the steps to the front door, leaving the beer in the pickup. The door was unlocked. He went in and closed it, clicking the safety lock. He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top landing, he turned toward one of the doors, and then paused.

That was the door to the gym. Which one was the bedroom door? He opened his mouth to call out when a door opened.

Logan was wearing a robe which stopped several inches short of his knees. It was made of a dark blue tightly woven fabric, decorated with light blue Chinese characters and symbols, and was lined with terrycloth in the same shade of light blue.

“Come into my lair,” he said with a smile.

He moved aside and Dean passed into the room. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what his next step should be. He suddenly became aware of his body odor.

“Can I take a shower?” he asked.

He felt that had been a stupid way to start a conversation, but Logan didn’t flinch.

“You know the bathroom is through there. There’s a stack of towels in there. Use anything you want to, and if you don’t see it, just ask.”

Dean went through the closet room and into the pink marble bath. He looked around as he got out of his dirty work clothes. The place looked even more sumptuous than he remembered.

He got in the glass enclosed shower stall and figured out how to turn on the water and adjust the temperature. He experimented with the different showerheads. He liked the rain-shower one. There were pump-bottles of soap with different scents: lemon, green grass, bay rum.

He filled his hand with the green grass scented one. He’d never smelled soap like that before. He spread it over his body, concentrating on his hairy armpits, between his legs and in his ass crack, shampooing his pubic hair and stroking his long dick, thinking about Logan waiting for him and his dick.

The towel was twice as big as the ones he had at home, and much thicker. He dried himself and found a stick deodorant. He liked the idea that Logan had run this same stick over his armpits earlier.

He wrapped the big towel around his waist and went back through the closet room into the bedroom. Logan was lying propped up in bed, flipping through a magazine. He tossed it aside and looked at Dean. Just looking at him, he felt his dick move.

He got off the bed, threw the quilted bedcover down to the foot of the bed and untied the belt of his robe. Dean stood watching him. Logan slipped off his robe and cast it onto a nearby chair. He remained standing for a few seconds and then lay on the bed. He patted the space beside him.

Dean let the towel fall on the floor. Logan let his eyes move up and down Dean’s body, thinking it was one of the most perfect he’d ever seen, wondering how this young man didn’t seem aware of just how beautiful he was.

Dean found he was nervous, but got onto the bed. He’s never been this near to another naked man. He’d never been naked and this close to another man. He was naked, and this man was naked, and he was lying down beside him. And his nervousness was because he wanted to do this.

Logan ran his hand over Dean’s chest, feeling his nipples as they became firm. He ran his fingers under Dean’s arm and over his shoulder and down his arm.

He took Dean’s hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed it and stuck Dean’s middle finger in his mouth and sucked on it. He let his hand go and touched Dean’s rippled stomach. He fingered his navel and dug his fingers into his pubic hair patch. He moved his hand down Dean’s leg and over to his ball sack. He cupped his balls and leaned forward and placed the tip of his tongue at the indention just below Dean’s Adam’s apple.

He flicked his tongue over Dean’s chest, swirling it around one of his erect nipples. Dean took in a quick, quiet breath. No one had ever made love to his body quite like this.

Logan continued licking down Dean’s body. He felt Dean’s now direct dick pressing against his stomach. He moved down to it and took the head into his mouth. He slid his mouth down as far as was possible, leaving at least two inches at the base exposed. He moved up and down a half dozen times. He licked all over his dick and then down to his balls, licking and sucking on them.

Dean pulled him up. In a quiet husky voice, he said, “You’re going to make me cum. I want to fuck you. I want to cum in your ass. I want to do that to you. Please?”

“I know. I prepared.”

Dean wasn’t sure what Logan meant, but at that moment he wasn’t concerned. Logan rolled over onto his stomach and spread his legs. Dean got between his legs and rubbed his dick up and down in Logan’s ass crack. Logan reached back and grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and spread them.

Dean put the end of his dick against Logan’s light brown pucker and felt the lubricant there, realizing what Logan had meant. He pushed and the head of his dick forced entry into Logan’s ass. As he pushed forward Dean’s dick experienced the sensation of a smoothness, a tightness, a warmth he’d never known.

He lay on Logan’s back and slipped his hands between Logan’s chest and the bedsheet. He clutched Logan’s breasts and moved his hips, bringing his dick almost out and then driving it back in as far as he could. He repeated the action a dozen times, his breath hot on the side of Logan’s neck.

Dean brought his hands out and pushed up so he could look down and watch his dick as it plunged in and out of Logan’s ass. He had occasionally watched as he fucked Sylvia’s pussy, but this was different. He knew he was fucking the ass of a man. He was fucking the ass of Logan. At that moment he thought of him as his Logan.

He pulled his dick out and said, “Turn over,” as he roughly helped him to flip over onto his back.

He grasped Logan’s legs and hefted them up so he could ram his dick back into his ass. He wasn’t thinking about his crude actions. He was so filled with lust he was only thinking about satisfying his needs.

He returned to fucking Logan hard and fast, at that moment intent on reaching the climax he was striving for. Logan was jacking his cock as hard as Dean was fucking his ass. He somehow knew Dean was quickly approaching that goal and loudly whispered, “Kiss me.”

Dean fell forward on Logan and pressed his lips against Logan’s. Logan opened his mouth and Dean reciprocated. He pushed his tongue into Logan’s mouth and felt Logan’s tongue push back.

The cum in Dean’s balls surged forth and spewed out of his dick deep into Logan’s gut. Logan shot his cum first onto Dean’s stomach and then onto his own. Their lips parted and their tongues continued their dance.

As the passion subsided Dean gently kissed Logan’s eyes and nose and lips and forehead. Against his will, his dick softened and he let it slip from the confines of Logan’s ass. He rose up and watched as it slipped out. He rolled off Logan and lay on his back, one arm over his eyes.

Logan rose up onto one elbow and looked at him. As was his custom, he asked, “You okay?”

Without removing his arm Dean smiled and said, “Never better.”

Logan lay back down and after a couple minutes of silence Dean said, “I have to go.”

This time Logan said, “I know. The old ball and chain.”

Dean got up and Logan watched him as he left the bed and headed for the bathroom, again marveling at his physical perfection.

Dean redressed in his dirty work clothes. When he came out of the bathroom Logan was back in his short robe and the bed had been straightened.

He said, “I’ll walk you out so you won’t get lost.”

They went down the stairs and to the front door. At the top of the steps to the street Dean started to say goodbye, but Logan grabbed his chin and turned his face toward him. He kissed Dean on the mouth, and when he finished the kiss Dean kissed him back. He bounded down the steps and after he got in the pickup and started the engine he rolled down the window and waved goodbye.

Logan watched him turn around and drive away, thinking, ‘Such a sweet kid. Too bad he’s married, but I don’t want to get caught up in that mess.’

Dean turned on the radio and with his hand resting on the steering wheel beat out the rhythm to the song. He was aware he was smiling like an idiot, but couldn’t stop. He also knew he was starving. He pulled into a MacDonald’s and got a Big Mac, a large order of fries and a Coke to go.

When he found a parking spot a half block from his apartment building he sat in the truck and finished eating.

He went up the stairs and into their apartment, knowing Sylvia was asleep by now. He threw the burger papers in the trash can and stowed the six-pack in the refrigerator.

He went to the bathroom and stripped again. After putting his dirty work clothes in the hamper he got in the shower, remembering the green grass soap he’d bathed with earlier. He washed to remove the scent of that soap as well as the smell of Logan and of sex. He regretted having to rid himself of all of them.

He went into the bedroom and put on clean underwear and gently climbed into bed with Sylvia. She was lying on her side and he fit himself behind her.

He put his arm around her and thought, ‘So I’m bisexual. I did it, and I liked it, a lot. Would I like it with another man, or is it just Logan? I’d have to try it with another man to find out.’

Sylvia murmured in her sleep. He kissed her where her neck curved into her shoulder. He thought, “I like Logan a lot. And I know he likes me. For right now I’ll just stick with Logan.’

And he went to sleep.

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