Handy Men Do It Better (3 page)

Jake stood above him, looking at Cory’s large cock. “Dude, you’re fucking hung.”

Cory chuckled. “C’mon.”

“You’re huge.”

Cory gripped his dick at the base and gave it a rigorous shake. A bit of fluid landed on his pant leg. “See? Even I have a bit of pre-cum. Let’s see yours, buddy.”

“Oh, man.” Jake fumbled with his button fly.

Cory reached out and rubbed Jake’s calf. “Don’t be nervous. But, if you don’t want to—”

“No, I want to.” Jake undid the first two buttons.

The moon lit Cory while he stroked himself and waited for Jake to show him his penis.

Jake continued to undo his pants. “I’m just so...horny.” He undid the last of his fly. His damp underwear met the night air and cooled the tip of his mushroom head, wrenched inside.

Masturbating with more vigor, Cory moaned. “C’mon, dude. Take it out. I’ve shown you mine.” He licked his lips.

Peeling back his underwear, Jake’s cock bounced out. He dared not touch it. He already felt close to orgasm.

“Wow!” Cory said and got up on his knees. “You’re a hot motherfucker. Mind if I have a little taste?”

“No!” Jake yelled. His knees trembled. His heartbeat quickened. He gasped and the wave overcame him. With hands on his hips, he clenched his buttocks, trying to hold it back, yet his cock fired off nonetheless. “Holy”—he grit his teeth—“son of a!”

“What the—” Cory threw back his head and beat off his dick, while Jake shot all over Cory’s chest. “Fucking hot! MAN!”

Jake continued to fire, hands still on his hips. He breathed in long, loud blows. “Holy fuck!” His legs quaked.

Cory wiped some of Jake’s cum, which had landed on his chest, rubbed it over his cock and quickly brought himself to orgasm. “MOTHERF—!” He fell back on his haunches. Shot after shot flew into the air while he shrieked, and a chorus of nighttime critters squawked in return.

One last shot and Jake fell to his knees. Cory’s cum rained down on him. Both men lost their balance—Cory fell on his back, and Jake landed on top of him.

Jake exhaled through pursed lips His face just inches from Cory’s.

“I don’t think I’ve had a harder orgasm,” Cory said and with his tongue licked a drop of cum from his lips.

“Your jizz or mine?” Jake asked and licked a bit of spunk off Cory’s chin.

“I’m not sure.”

“How about this one?” Jake kissed him and flicked his tongue against his.

Cory flipped Jake onto his back, pinned his arms up above his head and kissed him hard on the lips. “Fuck,” Cory mumbled. His mouth trailed off Jake’s lips and went down along his neck. “I’ve never seen anyone cum like that...without touching themselves.” He licked Jake’s nipple and nuzzled the beard of his chin against Jake’s tit.

Jake’s back arched and he gasped. “That’s my...that gets me going.”

“What’s your recovery time?” Cory asked, working his way to Jake’s other pec.

“I’m ready to go again.”

Cory pressed his erection against Jake’s leg. “Me too.”

“This time,” Jake said, between kisses, “I promise I’ll last longer.”

“It doesn’t—”

HONK! HONK!

Cory shot up. “What the hell is that?”

HONK! HONK!

Jake fumbled for his cell phone in his back pocket. “Sorry, that’s my phone.” He looked at the display. “It’s my kid sister.”

HONK! HONK!

Cory sat on the ground. “By all means...”

Jake answered it. “Joc? Everything—”

W
hen Jake pulled up to the Jasper Hills police station, Skip stood out front, smoking a cigarette, with Jocelyn by his side.

“What’s he doing here?” Jake shut off the engine, stepped down hard on the emergency brake and opened the door. When he got out, Jocelyn started over. Jake caught a glimpse of his hair in the window’s reflection, reached back in and grabbed his Buccaneers’ cap.

“The judge is on his way to set bail,” Jocelyn said while approaching.

Jake nodded. “Great. Have you seen—”

“Where’d you get that shirt?”

“Mom’s been arrested for drunk driving and you’re more concerned about my outfit?”

She folded her arms and looked down over her glasses.

Jake reached out and gave her a hug. “All right, I’m sorry. I—”

“Met a guy,” Jocelyn finished.

“Shh.” Jake looked up at Skip, who stamped out his cigarette and fiddled with his cell phone.

Jocelyn brushed the shoulder of Jake’s polo shirt. “Well, it looks like he’s got nice taste. What’s all over your—”

“Nothing. Never mind. Let’s go get Mom,” Jake said and started walking toward the entrance.

“Wait,” she said, and gave Jake a card, “before I forget. It’s for Juan and his family.”

Jake turned the envelope over. “What for?” he asked and looked at it to see, written in his sister’s perfect cursive, Juan’s name on the front.

“For his letting me interview him for my FSU essay.” Jocelyn’s composition on immigration, as part of the college application, had been discussed at length with Jake.

Jake put his arm around her. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s nothing really, just a gift card he can use for some groceries for his family.”

Jake opened the truck’s door. “You gave him grocery money?” He shoved the envelope in the visor.

She kicked his foot playfully. “Don’t fall down and wet your pants over it,” she said and walked toward the entrance. “It’s only ten bucks. It’s all I could afford.”

“I
’m moving out,” Jake said to his mother, who sipped a cup of black coffee at the kitchen table.

Jocelyn, over at the stove, craned her neck.

“Jake, don’t do this to me,” his mother said. Helen Honeywell-Riesling’s problem with alcohol started long before her second marriage, probably even before her first to Jacob Honeywell Sr. It didn’t help that her new husband—Don Riesling, a salesman who traveled more than not—also preferred to drink, but added poker and other women to the mix. She combed a hand through her unkempt gray hair. “Just because I drink a little...”

“That’s not it, Mom.”

Helen lit a cigarette. “And since when do you wear bright colors? That shirt—”

“Why is everyone more concerned about my wardrobe than with this situation?” Jake shoved his hands in his pockets.

Jocelyn shut the teakettle off. “No one cares about your clothes, Jake.”

“It doesn’t friggin’ matter.” He flipped a chair around and sat in it with his arms resting on its back. “I’ve been saving up for some time now. I’m twenty-three friggin’ years old.”

“Skip’s twenty-four and he still—”

“I’m not Skip, Mom.”

“Thank God,” Jocelyn added, and Helen glared.

Jake put a hand on his mother’s. “Look, a friend of my boss just broke up with his girlfriend. He’s looking for a roommate. We’re gonna share a small place out in Hodge Podge for only six twenty-five a month.”

“Each!” Helen pulled her hand away, and put it to her chest.

“No. We’d split it, plus utilities.”

With a mug of tea in hand, Jocelyn sat down next to her brother. “Hodge Podge is over a half hour away.”

He turned to her and brushed back her hair from her face. “I’m not moving to Alaska. Maybe I’ll even let you sleep over once in a while.”

Holding her mug with both hands, she raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re talking.” She took a sip.

“I thought you’d like that,” Jake added and with arms stretched out, pushed back on his chair.

“My kids...” Helen said. “Everyone wants to leave me.”

Jocelyn put her mug down and looked at Jake. “You know, pink looks really good on you.”

Jake looked at the sleeve of his shirt and rubbed his bicep. “It’s not pink.”

“Coral or fuchsia,” his mother said and blew smoke up at the ceiling fan. “But I thought it didn’t friggin’ matter.” She smiled.

Skip burst into the kitchen. The swinging door banged against a cabinet.

Helen flinched, while Jocelyn and Jake barely looked up. “How many times do I have to tell you!” yelled Jake’s mother.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He went to the fridge, and his slippers scuffed along the linoleum with each step. He took out a beer and cracked it open. “So, what’s the story?” he said, and leaned against the counter.

Helen looked at Jake, who looked at Jocelyn, and shrugged. “No story,” Helen said.

Skip took a swig and burped.

Jake shook his head and couldn’t help but notice Skip’s lack of underwear as he stood there in blue sweats.
Why does he dress like that, in front of my baby sister?
Jake looked to Jocelyn, and appreciated that she paid more attention to her teabag than to Skip’s bag.

“Jake’s moving out,” Helen said.

“No way,” Skip said and chugged more beer.

“Way,” Jake said. “But first we need to make sure Mom’s DUI—”

“Enough of my mishap!” Helen shouted. “A silly mistake. I won’t let it happen again.”

Jake’s phone chirped in receipt of a text message.

Jocelyn looked at him and took another sip of tea.

Jake pulled out his phone, looked at it and beamed. Cory had sent him a message asking how things turned out.

“Who’s that?” his mother asked.

Jake put his phone back in his pocket. “No one.”

“No one certainly puts a smile on your face.” Helen sipped her coffee and flicked her cigarette into the ashtray.

“Let me see!” Skip yelled and ripped Jake’s phone from his back pocket.

Jake spun around. “What the fuck!” He shoved his stepbrother in the chest, causing Skip to fall and skid into a cabinet. Jake’s cell phone slid across the floor. Jocelyn stopped it with her foot, picked it up and handed it to Jake.

Skip tried to get up. “You son of a—”

“STOP!” Helen stood up. “I will not have this in my house!”

Jake and Skip glared at each other.

“For God’s sake!” Helen walked over to the fridge and moved Skip aside with a flick of her hand.

“Dude, I was just kidding.” Skip pulled himself up using the countertop as support. “Jesus.”

“Maybe it’ll be a good thing if you leave.” Helen opened the fridge and took out a beer.

Jocelyn tugged slightly at the back of Jake’s shirt. He turned around. “I’m okay,” Jake said.

Helen leaned against the sink. “Honey,” she said to Jake, “it’s just that...if there’s a girl in your life, we’d love to know.” She looked to Jocelyn. “Wouldn’t we?”

Jocelyn glanced at Jake. “Uh, yeah. Of course.” She stood up. “Well, I’ve got homework to do and a college app to look over.” She took her mug over to the sink, and her mom moved aside.

T
he next day after work, Jake stopped at the thrift store on Fifth and Main to get something new to wear. After purchasing a pair of jeans and a Henley, both still with their original store tags, he went into the McDonald’s, a couple miles off the interstate, to change.

Cory and he had planned a real date—dinner and a movie.

With a fresh new—to him—look, he drove to the Woods.

When he got there, Cory answered the door clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. “Hey!” he answered.

Jake jerked his head back. “Hi,” he said, glad he took the opportunity to bust a nut at lunch and avoid an immediate rise.

For a moment, Cory said nothing and just eyed Jake. “Wow,” Cory shook his head, “you certainly clean up well.”

Jake blushed. “Thanks. Ah, you’re looking mighty fine yourself.” He scratched his chest through the top of his shirt—he’d left the three buttons of the Henley undone for good measure. “Am I too early?”

Cory put his arms up and looked down at the towel wrapped tightly around his slim waist. “Oh, no, no.”

Staring at the trail of light brown hair under Cory’s navel, Jake’s hand fidgeted in his pocket.

“I’m just running a bit behind,” Cory said. “I had to drop my parents off at the clubhouse for some dance, or something, that the association’s putting on.” He stepped aside to let Jake in and shut the door. “I got caught up in a conversation with a couple of their friends looking to invest in some property. They wanted my opinion.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you.” Jake looked around. In all the years he’d been tending the Woods’s grounds, he’d never been inside one of the units. “Nice place.”

“Yeah, they keep it up.” Cory placed his hands at his waist, fingers splayed to the sides. “I recently renovated their kitchen out of an eighties’ tragedy.”

“You’re pretty handy,” Jake said, edging forward. He wanted to kiss him but restrained. Despite the prior evening’s intimacy, the newness of their relationship eluded definition. “You said your parents are out?” He wanted to make sure they were alone.

Again, Cory just stared, with a wide grin on his face, and said nothing for a bit. “Oh, sorry.” He inched closer to Jake. “It’s just...I can’t get past your looks.” He shook his head. “You were saying?”

Jake chuckled. “Your parents...there’s an event of sorts at the clubhouse?”

“Oh, yeah. They won’t be back till late. I dropped them off so we could have the car.”

“Oh, well, you didn’t have to do that. We could’ve used my truck,” Jake said, but welcomed not having to risk the embarrassment of riding around with Cory in a fifteen-year-old jalopy.

Cory waved a hand. “No problem. Besides, they needed help carrying the food my mom made for the potluck.” He reached out, put a finger in the waist of Jake’s jeans and pulled him forward. “There, now that’s better.”

Jake, glad he brushed his teeth and gargled at the McDonald’s, put his arms around Cory’s waist. “It is, isn’t it?”

They kissed. While Jake squeezed his ass, Cory combed his fingers through the back of Jake’s hair and held him at the neck.

“Definitely better,” Cory said, between kisses. His hands moved down along Jake’s back and hooked into the back of his pants.

Jake wondered if his lack of underwear had been a bad idea.

A long silence occurred, interrupted only by the sound of mouth on mouth. Then, further broken by a gasp, followed with a groan.

“Shit,” Cory said.

Jake’s self-induced enjoyment during lunchtime proved futile, and he sat down on the couch to not accentuate his arousal.
Yep, should’ve worn my Andrew Christian jock.
Yet when he looked back at Cory, the protruding towel indicated a similar situation. Jake smiled.