Renovations (Part 1)

– May –

Carl had always intended to do the renovations himself–after all, he’d bought the small house in part because it was a bit run-down, which also meant he’d gotten it for a comparable steal in the current buyer’s market, but two summers had already gone by and work had simply been too busy for him to ever devote much time to his plans. It wasn’t like the place was falling apart or anything, he would tell himself. The roof didn’t leak, all of his appliances functioned well enough. The inside and outside could use a fresh coat of paint and some better carpet, and the kitchen and bathrooms desperately needed remodeling, but at some point practicality had overwhelmed his ambition, and so he’d settled in, happy enough, figuring he would get around to it at some point.

It wasn’t that Carl was incapable of doing the work–in fact, he’d often helped his father with home remodelling projects when he was teenager, and still trying to prove to himself that he might be straight, which was funny, now that he thought back on it. Still, in his late twenties and with a firm, gym toned body, he actually enjoyed the idea of working on something like this instead of sitting in front of the computer all day long, like he’d been doing lately. Carl worked from home as a website developer. Running his own business could be stressful at times, but he was currently riding a pretty high wave which had given him the first chance to save some money in the last few years, and he really enjoyed working with his current batch of clients. Still, even though it was only May, he could tell it was going to be a beautiful summer, and the perfect opportunity to get some work on the house done. Unfortunately, his work was so successful that it was taking up most of his time, and it was beginning to look like he wasn’t going to be able to do the renovations himself. Still, the problems which had at first seemed charming were slowly developing into more of an eyesore, and it was that which provoked Carl to relent and hire a handyman to come and do some work on the house for him this summer, since it probably wouldn’t get done otherwise.

He certainly did his research when it came to contractors–he got recommendations from friends and work associates, he trolled review sites, he called around looking for reputable, hard working, drug free employees…and so when he ended up hiring Bud Johnson to do the work, he kind of surprised himself. He’d found one solid reference to Bud’s work online, and called him for a consultation on a bit of whim, and when Bud had shown up at the door, it wasn’t the kind of guy he’d expected. He was a bit shorter than Carl, but the way he stuck out his chest and with his fat gut stretching his muscle shirt taut, he gave off a certain sense of bluster and bullying that caught Carl off guard. Chuffing on a cigar that Carl kept forgetting to ask him to extinguish and smelling of stale beer, Bud wormed his way into the house with a warm handshake and a conversation that Carl just couldn’t seem to control. Bud talked a bit too fast, and by the time Carl had his thoughts formulated on one topic enough to respond, Bud had already assumed Carl’s agreement and moved onto the next.

“What do ya think of this color outside, pretty grim, eh? Good thing ya called me–no reason tah be the saddest house on the block, eh? How ‘bout Red? I’m thinkin’ red.”

“You know what this kitchen could use? Stone floors. I put some stone floors in the last house I worked on, and the owners loved it. I bet you would to! Sounds like a plan tah me.”

“This might be more than you were thinkin’ out here, but what about an awning for the patio? It would make it a great party spot–pop open a few brews, have a smoke with the buds, eh man?”

Still, for all of his pushy conversation, and the smoking, which started off as annoying and grew infuriating as Bud ignored Carl’s attempts to get him to put it out, he seemed knowledgeable and ambitious. In addition, it was just Bud working by himself, and he owned his own business, which Carl could more than respect, since he worked alone as well. By the end of the consultation, Carl had already agreed to hire Bud–but decided to limit him to working on the exterior paint for now, and if that went well, they’d see what they could do about the rest of his ideas. Still, Carl couldn’t help but be a bit concerned, and couldn’t shake the sense that he’d been logrolled some how. Still, he shrugged his shoulders and set up a few fans to try and clear the smoke out of the air in the house, and figured that if things went bad, he could always just fire him.

However, the first few days of the project had gone well enough–Bud had shown up on time and worked hard, and despite Carl’s reluctance, had followed through with his original plan, and started painting the outside of the house a deep red. It wasn’t as horrible as Carl had been expecting at least, and with the smoking outside and his work inside, things mostly proceeded as normal, until the next week, when the first hot day of late Spring arrived. Carl’s office on the south side of the house was baking, and so he opened the window to let in the slight breeze that was blowing and went back to his work when he caught a whiff of Bud’s cigar on the air. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d smelled his smoke, and he wasn’t quite sure what about it had caught his attention, but as soon as he smelled it this time, he zoned out, focusing on that scent for a few minutes, almost understanding the appeal, the sweetness underneath the acridity, and when he shook his head to refocus after a minute, he realized he had a hardon in his khakis.

Carl hadn’t bothered to tell Bud that he was gay–hell, he hadn’t even had a chance to tell him much of anything about himself–not that he figured it would matter much. He’d had a few relationships off and on over the years, but he’d always preferred his own company, and liked being independent more than being in a relationship. Still, Bud was hardly his type–Carl preferred the more standard sort of “handsome”, but as he smelled that cigar, he couldn’t deny that he was suddenly very, very horny. He peeked out over the edge of the window sill, and saw that Bud was working shirtless, applying primer to the wall underneath the window, smoking as usual, and Carl figured he would have some time to himself to jack off, and so he minimized the webpage he was designing and pulled up some porn that he put on mute, lest something noisy alert Bud under the window.

However, the cigar smoke kept wafting in, and Carl found himself quickly losing interest in the video, and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he found himself fantasizing about Bud. Sure, the guy was fat, which was kind of disgusting, and there was the smoking, and the fact that he always seemed to smell like beer and body odor, and the tattoos…Carl heard himself let out a little moan, and he thought back to the larger than average bulge he’d noticed in Bud’s slightly too tight jean cut offs he’d been wearing in the heat. He imagined Bud taking off the shorts, and they were both sweaty in the heat, and the cigar smoke was getting stronger as they kissed…

“F–Fuck, Bud…” Carl moaned as he stroked his cock.

“Yes?” the reply came, and Carl thought it was just his fantasy for a moment, the cigar smoke suddenly more present, and then he opened his eyes and saw Carl right outside the window, smirking at him. He must have moved the ladder next to the window without Carl noticing, and he was framed in it, his jean shorts unbuttoned and fly down, a semi-hard shaft hanging out of his boxers, and he was stroking it, and Carl let out a shout, and fell out of his chair, trying to cover himself.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” Bud said, climbing into Carl’s office through the window, “But I heard you muttering and slapping from in the yard. Didn’t think a prissy white collar guy like you would be interested in blue-collar me though.”

“No, I’m not–” Carl said, “Look, can you get out please?”

Bud just walked over to where Carl was sitting on the floor and knelt down, wrapping one hand around his cock, making him shiver and start sweating in the heat. His hands were so rough–and this close the smell of the cigar and his sweat was almost overpowering, and when Bud set the cigar aside and leaned in to kiss him, he didn’t try to resist, and he wrapped his own hand around the contractor’s cock and started stroking in, feeling it’s length and heft, the thick PA through the head, and in a matter of moments Bud had Carl cumming all over his loose summer clothes, and Bud shot his load too with a grunt, and then pulled Carl close, pulling him up against his hot body, the scruff of his stubble as strange as the callused hand reaching up under his shirt to feel Carl’s slim, young body.

Still, as soon as it had started, it was over, and Bud was standing up again, buttoning his shorts back up, leaving Carl on the floor covered with both of their loads. “Dang, guess I really lucked out with this job, eh?” Bud said, “You need anymore help with that sort of thing, be sure to let me know.” He climbed back out onto the ladder through the window and went back to work, leaving Carl to try and figure out what exactly had happened. The entire encounter hadn’t lasted more than two minutes, and after stripping down and throwing his clothes into the laundry and taking a shower, the entire encounter had started to feel more like a realistic fantasy than something that had actually happened between them. He tried to go back to work, but the heat of the day was such that he couldn’t recover his focus, and the breeze hadn’t been enough to chase away the lingering smell of smoke and cum from his office, and before he could really help himself, he was jacking off again, imagining the scenario again, but imagining what could have happened next, if Bud had pulled off his shirt and started tweaking his nipples, and then started licking his cock, before swallowing it to the hilt…

With a spasm, Carl shot another load, into some tissues this time, but he was still horny. He couldn’t work like this, he just couldn’t. He decided then and there that he would have to fire Bud–he’d have to finish the exterior painting himself probably, or hire someone else, but it was obvious that they had compromised their working relationship, and so he waited until five, when Bud tended to wrap up for the day, and he put on some clean clothes and confronted him in the front yard as he was packing up his tools.

“Hey!” Bud said, seeing Carl come out of the house, “I was just gonna go look for ya. There’s a game on tonight, and I was gonna suggest we get some beers and maybe watch it together, if you know what I mean,” he said, smiling at Carl’s crotch.

“Look, Bud, I can’t do this, ok? I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to fire you.”

Bud was a bit taken aback, and it kind of surprised Carl to see the shock on his face, and it made him feel kind of bad.

“Wait, seriously? But it was your fault man, I didn’t do anything you didn’t want.”

“That’s not really the problem, I just can’t–”

“Look, we don’t have to do anything ever again, I can control myself. But I really need this job, I don’t really have anything else lined up. I had to cancel on two other possible contracts to take yours man, you’re leaving me in a total lurch.”

“I know, and I’m sorry–”

“Look, can’t we just talk about this?” Bud said, stepping a bit closer, close enough that Carl got another whiff of his cigar, that same smell from before, and he felt his cock try to rise up, but he pushed his arousal back. What in the world was the matter with him? This had never been an issue before. Bud wasn’t even his type!

“I–Look, you’re doing good work, I can’t complain. But I have to get work done, and if you keep trying to fuck me–”

“Excuse me, Carl, but you’re the one who seemed pretty interested in fucking me up there in your office.”

“You just invited yourself into my home!” Carl shouted at him, and Bud looked surprisingly hurt.

“Look, I stepped over a line, alright? I’m sorry. Look, at least let me finish the paint job. It’ll only be a few more days, and there won’t be any more funny business I promise. That’ll give me a chance to line something else up, alright?”

Carl couldn’t really bring himself to say no to that, and so he relented, they shook on it, and he headed back inside after Bud drove off. Still, it took longer than a few days for Bud to finish the exterior painting, and every day the heat seemed to be getting worse. Carl would usually manage to get some work done in the morning, but as the heat ramped up, and he opened the windows of the house, and he’d get that first whiff of Bud’s cigar…well, he’d just lose it. He would spend the rest of the day jacking off, developing more and more intense fantasies about the two of them, and the heat would just become more and more unbearable until Bud would pack up his stuff and drive off, leaving Carl alone.

He’d never realized just how alone he was, actually. He didn’t have many friends, aside from a few old ex’s from college that he kept contact with online, but none of them were local. There was no one he could really talk to about this at all, and so he would sit alone in the warm evenings, usually naked and trying to keep cool, too horny to stop thinking about Bud, but almost too hot to be horny, and it was just beginning to drive him nuts. And so, after three days of their uneasy truce, on a Friday, and unable to really face the entire weekend by himself, Carl went out in the afternoon to the supermarket and bought some beer, and when Bud was cleaning up for the day, he took a deep breath and walked over to him while he was loading his truck.

“Hey, I got some beer today, would you like to hang out this evening and watch the game with me?” he asked. His voice sounded so silly to him all of a sudden , almost childish and needy, and he nearly ran back into the house, ashamed of himself. Bud just stared at him, before the corner of his stubbly mouth lifted up.

“What game? There’s nothing on today.”

Carl blushed, and he turned around and hurried back into the house, sweaty and hot and horny and alone and embarrassed, when he heard a knock on the door behind him, and Bud let himself into the house.

He didn’t know who went for it first. It ended up not mattering to him in the least. Bud was still shirtless and covered in sweat, and the smell of him was so powerful that it made Carl’s head spin, but while the scent of musk and stale beer had seemed so disgusting to him when they’d first met, now it was nearly an aphrodisiac, and when Bud lifted up his arm, revealing a armpit thick with hair, Carl was happy to smash his face into the crevice and lick the sweat from the hair there, while Bud rubbed the leaking cock through Carl’s khakis.

They didn’t speak the entire time, and while in his fantasies Carl had always imagined himself on top–in fact, in all of his previous relationships he had always seemed to be the one to take change in the bedroom–whenever he tried to move Bud into a position where he might suck on Carl’s cock, or reveal his ass so Carl could fuck him, he would resist and push back, so that Carl eventually ended up on the floor, his back against the side of his couch, and Bud was standing, feet spread wide, and then he grabbed Carl’s hair in one hand and pushed the head of his cock against the young man’s lips.

Carl wasn’t entirely sure what to do in this position, he had never encountered someone this forceful, and while he’d imagined it would turn him off, it was quite the opposite–the fact that Bud had him right where he wanted him–right where, it seemed, they both wanted him–made him open his mouth and moan as Bud slid his hard cock into Carl’s mouth and right down his throat, where Carl almost immediately gagged.

“Come on man, relax and take it deep,” Bud said, and tried again. Carl did his best, but he could tell that he wasn’t doing very good. In fact, the next minute simply grew more and more awkward as Bud tried to skullfuck Carl, but while he was willing to try, his body didn’t seem to do what Bud wanted it to do, and in frustration more than anything else, Bud stepped back from Carl, who wiped a stream of precum off his lips and did his best to look apologetic, and was uncertain whether he should apologize or not.

“You know what I need? I need a beer and a smoke–you want one?” Bud asked, and naked, walked into Carl’s kitchen and looked in the fridge, found the beer and brought two out. Carl had stood up, still clothed, and barely caught the can Bud lobbed to him from across the room, and then Bud walked back to his shorts, pulled out a cigar and lit it for himself, and then turned back to Carl, who was still standing there, uncertain about what was happening, and asked, “Do you want one or not?”

“Want what?”

“A cigar, man–a cigar. You need to loosen up a bit, you know what I mean? You’re too damn tense to be a proper fuck.”

Carl just shook his head while Carl lit his cigar and took a few puffs to get it burning. “Look, maybe…I think this was a mistake, maybe you should go.”

Bud ignored him, and put the lit cigar an inch from Carl’s mouth. “Here, take a puff and tell me what you think.”

Carl just looked at him, and then he wrapped his lips around the cigar and took a small breath of the smoke.

“Now you’re gonna wanna cough, but don’t. Don’t inhale it too far either, you can’t do that when ya start. Just hold it for a second–just hold it and taste it,” Bud said, and then leaned in and kissed Carl, pulling the smoke from him as he did, and Carl leaned into him as they kissed. Without breaking their kiss, Carl led him around the arm of the sofa and sat them both down, where they cracked open their beers and started drinking, sharing the cigar, Bud taking his time to help Carl smoke it, and then he wrapped one hand around the back of Carl’s head and guided him back down onto his cock, walking him through it, helping him take more and more of his cock down his throat, while he smoked and drank, finishing his beer before reaching over, grabbing Carl’s and finishing that one too.

“That’s it boy, just take as much as you can, and relax–open up the throat, that’s it, yeah…”

“Feels good, but no teeth! No teeth man, what the fuck are you doing down there?”

“Hold it, come on, hold it down there, you can do it, don’t you fucking gag you piece of shit, don’t fucking do it!”

Carl wasn’t sure how to feel about this, but his cock was rock hard the entire time, and after a few minutes of taking Bud’s sizable cock as deep as he could, Bud grabbed him by the hair again and started fucking him up and down on the shaft, not caring whether Carl had a chance to breathe or not, or whether he gagged or even threw up, and after half a minute he shot a load down Carl’s throat, so deep that he didn’t really have a choice but to swallow all of it. Bud relaxed after a moment, but held Carl there for a moment, before releasing him with a sigh.

“Aww fuck yeah man, that was real nice,” Bud said, and stood up, grabbing his shorts and pulling them on.

“Wait, are you going? But–”

“Yeah, gotta get started early tomorrow, you know?” Bud said, winking at him, “Might try to finish up early or somethin’. Have a good night, Carl.”

Carl only had time to stand up, his cock erect and hanging out of his pants, as he saw Bud run down to his truck, hop in and drive off. “But what about…” he said, and then sighed and rolled his eyes. “Figures,” he said to himself, looked down, and saw that in his haste, Bud had left behind both the half smoked cigar, and his boxers which he’d discarded next to the couch.

Carl bent down and picked them up–they were damp with sweat, and stank, but they stank like Bud, and after a look over his shoulder, almost as if he was worried someone might see, he pressed the fabric to his face and took a deep whiff from it, his cock drooling a stream of precum as he moaned out loud. He sat down on the couch, and with one hand on his cock, alternated between sniffing, biting and sucking at his contractor’s underwear, and finishing the cigar they’d started together, finally shooting a load of his own just before the butt became too small to smoke.

He shivered in the heat and dropped the boxers back on the ground, before emptying the small bowl they had been using as an ashtray from the coffee table. On his way back from the kitchen, he grabbed a beer, thought for a moment, grabbed two, and went back into the living room and turned on the TV. Twice more, as he drank, he masturbated with Bud’s boxers against his face, imagining him skull fucking him with his big cock, or…or fucking him up the ass. No one had ever fucked him before, but suddenly, it was all he really wanted, but did he really want to lose his cherry to Bud? With a shake of his head, he realized he did, and he got up and had another two beers. He fell asleep there on the couch, the boxers draped across his face, and when Bud arrived the next morning, early like he’d said, and hours before Carl eventually woke up, he looked in at the scene through the front window and smiled.

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