A Nice Piece Of Tradie Arse
There are houses being renovated in my street, the inner suburbs being the inner suburbs, it is going on all over. Accordingly, there are some nice specimens of beef standing around.
All that HiViz and posturing. Slurp. (I can't believe I said that?)
There was a young, fresh faced guy, I’d say 20ish, probably just started his apprenticeship, who had on such small pair of blue workman's shorts, that they were tight around the tops of his thighs, hugging his legs. And what thighs he had! Jasus! They fitted his crotch, two handfuls, like a queen had fitted them for him for a dance party. The boy looked like he had a huge waz on him. I couldn’t help but look. He couldn’t help but notice me notice. It didn’t seem to faze him though.
19, 20, you would have to have jerked off this morning, I thought next. Then I was picturing him with those tiny shorts and his still warm jocks around his work boot clad ankles, pounding himself energetically, wanting to get the job done before he left for work, before his mate picked him up for work.
He stood there like he had no idea.
Then on the way back, he saw me coming and he held my gaze until I got right up to him. No doubt, he was wondering if it was acceptable now to swap bodily juices, because I reckon mine would look good dripping out of him. He, with his dripping cock in his hand, looking back over his shoulder, sweat on his brow, with a shiny hole, wondering what the hell just happened.
There was a dark-haired guy, supervisor type, with a folder under his arm, all decked out in blue workwear a bit further along the street. He had a really handsome face. Well built. The material of his work pants got chewed up by his arse crack as he passed by me.
I pictured that hairy arse crack gyrating in mid air this morning as he rolled over and stuck it in his wife at 5am.
“Oh honey…”
“Baby, I need it before I go to work.”
“Oh Brad…?”
“Oh yeah baby, just like that.”
“Oh… Brad.”
He pleasures her and himself before they both have to get out of bed.
I wonder if they have any idea how the boys of Carlton are sizing them up, imagining them in their jocks, picturing them on the wank, wondering what the scent of their Stanley Chasm would be? Wondering how long it would take to lick their wife's juices away?
All that HiViz and posturing. Slurp. (I can't believe I said that?)
There was a young, fresh faced guy, I’d say 20ish, probably just started his apprenticeship, who had on such small pair of blue workman's shorts, that they were tight around the tops of his thighs, hugging his legs. And what thighs he had! Jasus! They fitted his crotch, two handfuls, like a queen had fitted them for him for a dance party. The boy looked like he had a huge waz on him. I couldn’t help but look. He couldn’t help but notice me notice. It didn’t seem to faze him though.
19, 20, you would have to have jerked off this morning, I thought next. Then I was picturing him with those tiny shorts and his still warm jocks around his work boot clad ankles, pounding himself energetically, wanting to get the job done before he left for work, before his mate picked him up for work.
He stood there like he had no idea.
Then on the way back, he saw me coming and he held my gaze until I got right up to him. No doubt, he was wondering if it was acceptable now to swap bodily juices, because I reckon mine would look good dripping out of him. He, with his dripping cock in his hand, looking back over his shoulder, sweat on his brow, with a shiny hole, wondering what the hell just happened.
There was a dark-haired guy, supervisor type, with a folder under his arm, all decked out in blue workwear a bit further along the street. He had a really handsome face. Well built. The material of his work pants got chewed up by his arse crack as he passed by me.
I pictured that hairy arse crack gyrating in mid air this morning as he rolled over and stuck it in his wife at 5am.
“Oh honey…”
“Baby, I need it before I go to work.”
“Oh Brad…?”
“Oh yeah baby, just like that.”
“Oh… Brad.”
He pleasures her and himself before they both have to get out of bed.
I wonder if they have any idea how the boys of Carlton are sizing them up, imagining them in their jocks, picturing them on the wank, wondering what the scent of their Stanley Chasm would be? Wondering how long it would take to lick their wife's juices away?
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