I found myself staring at him more times than I’d like to admit. He was insignificant in oh so many ways, but I found him to be remarkable. I’d often find myself watching his hands as he operated the heavy machinery outside. Even from that distance, the sweat on his exposed chest sparkled and glistened like gemstones, and I wanted each of them. I wanted the jewels he was ordained in.
I would watch him for hours from my apartment window. He worked for the state. They had been doing something to the water system just outside the neighborhood for weeks now. Everyday, the noise of the machinery would disturb me, and then his visage would ease my mind. His hands were always covered in those thick, gray gloves, but I could tell they were strong. The way he’d lift the manhole covers with ease always sent tingles up my spine. And the way he carried his pipe…mmm. I wanted him. I wanted all of him.
I knew nothing about this man. Was he crazy? Was he an escaped convict living under an assumed identity? Was he even interested in women? I knew nothing, but I wanted everything. I wanted to peel him out of those faded jeans. I wanted to bite around his strong thighs. I wanted to taste the sweat running down that fuzzy chest of his. I wanted to cling to him and call out while he pulled every ounce of pleasure out of my soul. I needed to have him.
Three bottles of moscato–that’s how much it took for me to get the courage to go out there and speak to him. He would often take his breaks near the neighborhood mailboxes, to drink his water. That was my plan of attack, check the mail while he was drinking water.
I took extra long in the shower. I wanted to be fresh for him. I didn’t know how things would turn out, but I know I needed to be clean. I threw on a pair of shorts and a yellow camisol. I’d always thought my skin tone looked extra vibrant in yellow. Hopefully, he’d agree. I added a hit of matte lipstick to pull the whole “I’ve just been lounging all day but I’m still cute” look together and then I was out the door.
My flip flops clapped for me as I walked down the building steps. I couldn’t help but think dirty thoughts as the sounds echoed through the corridor. “Clap, clap, clap.” I smiled at the imagery.
Outside was quiet. There wasn’t much through traffic in the middle of the day so the only ambient noise was the sound of leaves rustling. The heavy machinery was still. The workers were on a break. I had timed it perfectly. I walked speedily to the edge of the property, rounding the corner until the mail boxes were in view.
He wasn’t there. Mission failed. All of the filthy ideas I had about him were for nothing. I spent the greater part of the morning, turning my self on for him to be a “no-show.” I could’ve soaked a couch with the debauchery flowing through my mind and he decided to stand me…he stood me up.
For a split second I wanted to find him and scream at him. I wanted to find out who’s house he was spending his breaks at. I wanted to know who’s legs he was between. Who was he stroking? Who did he have the audacity to be with, while I was standing there waiting for him?
I started shaking. I was mad at a man I had never met for missing a date he didn’t even know about. I grabbed my mail out of the box, crumbling the white envelopes in my hand. “This mother…”
“I’m sorry?” My words came to an abrupt end at the sound of his thunderously deep voice. I turned and stood in the shadow of “him,” my man, his chest glistening glistening in my eyes, and his eyes looking right at my chest.
To Be Continued…
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DISCLAIMER : Jae is not, nor has he ever been into guys. He understands that some guys are handsome, but he has never had a craving for a man to come to his home and “dig him out.” This story was written for a challenge from someone he really cares about, but if you get your rocks off while reading it, you’re totally welcome. Just leave a comment and tell us all about it.
With that said, this is an original piece of fiction created and copyrighted in 2019 by Jamale Davis. All rights are reserved by him.