Rob is hiring another handyman, this time to fix his air conditioner. When he ends up with the hunky Bellamy Harshfield and his studly grandfather Lyle, Rob knew which one he liked best… Rob likes his meat finely aged, so before he knows it, he’s on his knees servicing every inch of Lyle’s body. Can Bellamy handle his handsomeness being rejected for his grandfather’s alpha-male manhood?!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Rob took a nervous step back, his heart pounding. The two repairmen came into his house, and he felt a few tinges of sweat on his brow. His plan was working as intended. After accidentally getting the wrong repairmen a couple times, he had been worried it would happen again. But these two were Bellamy and Lyle Harshfield, exactly whom he had been hoping for.
They talked — and Rob responded a bit without paying much attention — about the air conditioner. It wasn’t working. It was sweltering in here, and Rob was glad to see them. But he was glad, not just because the air conditioner should start working soon, but also because they were both hot.
The younger one was Bellamy Harshfield, and he was a gorgeous dreamboat: blond, dimpled, smooth-cheeked, no doubt apple-bottomed and with a cock to match. He was nineteen, just barely, and he had all the vim and vigor befitting a man of that age. He was sprightly, ropy muscled like an old sailor, like he retained all the power of a younger man but had it condensed into these compact limbs that still had room for a little padding.
But Rob had no interest in young studs like Bellamy. Bellamy probably had a legion of pretty girls chasing him around with their tits flopping about. Rob wasn’t interested in men like him, women could have them.
He liked the older one, Lyle, who was not just a bit older — he was Bellamy’s step-grandfather. He was gloriously imperfect in his dad-bod, which brimmed with muscle and power even if he wasn’t carved out of alabaster like Bellamy. His body crammed more muscle into a smaller frame, giving him a dense and meaty look. Lyle was shorter, hairier, with fuzz sticking out from under his dingy old tee shirt, extending up to his shoulders. He was balding, and he was thick-bodied — so was Bellamy, but Lyle had more of a squarish shape, like he had gotten so big for so long his body no longer knew what to do with the muscle he had grown. His hair was dirty-blond too, just like Bellamy’s, but now grayish and thin unlike Bellamy’s dense shock of action-hero hair.
They went to the air conditioner just outside the house, and Rob hung around inside, positioning himself so he could see them. Lyle attracted all of his attention. He bent over to inspect the air conditioner, showing Bellamy what he saw and explaining how to fix it.
“Hold this!” Lyle said with a snarl — Bellamy had failed to pay close enough attention, and now Lyle was in a bad mood. “You damn fool boy, quit messin’ around.”
“Sorry, Gramps,” Bellamy said with a sigh. He took his cell phone out and peered at it, trying to look like he still paid attention to Lyle even while he texted a girl.
“This here is the intake valve. Most of the time when they go kaput like this, without a smoke or a smell — or a — hey, boy, you put that motherfuckin’ game boy down and pay attention-“
“It ain’t a Game Boy, Gramps. No one’s played Game Boys for like twenty years-“
“That was what ya Pa used to play-“
“Yeah, I know, Gramps. It’s cool. I know how to tighten a valve,” Bellamy said with a scoff. He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Oh?” He handed the wrench to Bellamy, who took it hesitantly. He hefted the wrench in one hand. Then Lyle ran his own fingers through his hair, just like his step-grandson had moments before. Lyle’s hair was thinner though, like his forehead was mugging his scalp very slowly, and he ran his fingers through the threadbare patch as though he was used to having more hair than he actually had.
Bellamy approached the air conditioner. He tried to attach the wrench, but Lyle rolled his eyes and sighed. Bellamy fumbled with it until Lyle bent over to help again.
“There,” Lyle said. “You best pay attention, son. I am teachin’ you a trade. You know when I was growin’ up, this was the only way to learn a skill. Men fought over the chance to learn this kinda shit.”
“That’s cuz no one had invented books yet, Gramps!” Bellamy said, chuckling. “You had to ask your local lord for permission to learn how to read-“
“Oh, hush your face,” Lyle said. He tightened the valve himself. “You know, if you would ever apply your goddamn fool self you could maybe learn a little something, make a life for yourself-“
“Gramps, come on, I’ve got a life for myself. I’ve got like two thousand instagram followers who are into my sick abs,” Bellamy said. He lifted up his shirt to show off his perfect six-pack. He ran his fingers up the ridges of muscle there. “See?”
“Used to be only girls worried about their bellies.”
“In the olden days! I don’t wanna be fat! It’s bad for you, Gramps!”
“You been hanging out with that foolish girl with green hair-“
“She’s my girlfriend, Gramps, her name is Meredith and I love her-“
“Then put a ring on it!”
“Give me a ring!” Bellamy said. He threw his hands in the air.
Lyle scoffed and waved his grandson away. He returned to fixing the air conditioner. His hairy arms flexed, gleaming with sweat, biceps bulging. Bellamy resumed playing with his phone, ignoring his grandfather who continued to fix the air conditioner. Still inside the house, Rob watched Lyle’s plump granddad-ass sway in his overly baggy jeans — it looked like he had gotten frustrated trying to find jeans that fit according to the style of his youth and had ended up with these preposterously baggy jeans that made him look like he beat up a rapper to steal his clothes.
“You don’t know jack-shit about girls nowadays, Gramps. That’s why you never get any pussy-“
“I get plenty of pussy!” Lyle shouted. He grunted. He glanced towards the house and saw Rob. “You’re gonna get a complaint, son. Shut that facehole.”
“You’re the one shouting about pussy.”
“You gonna offend the homeowner-!”
“That homeowner is a sensitive sort, Gramps, he’d scream in terror at the sight of a pussy,” Bellamy said with a laugh. “He’d prolly like you.”
“Nah. Nancy-boys like clean, long-haired guys with pretty faces and doe eyes. He’d probably cotton to you. Maybe you could dump that green-haired communist you been with and hook up wit’ him. At least he got a house,” Lyle said.
“She’s not a communist, she’s a socialist.”
“Ain’t that the same thing?”
“No,” Bellamy said. His voice was unsure though, and it sounded like he could not have explained the difference. “They’re… She has beliefs that are… Just shut up, Gramps.”
“You put a ring on that yet?”
“You know I can’t afford one, I will, I’m savin’ up for it,” Bellamy said. “I’ll have enough by the end of the year.”
“Hey,” Rob said. He came to the door, and they both turned to look at him. He smiled at them both in turn.
“Ya air conditioner should be fixed soon, suh,” Lyle said. He looked down and mumbled a little, like he had never really gotten used to speaking to men so respectfully. “Sorry ‘bout the salty language. My grandson here is a-” He paused, seemingly unable to think of a non-obscene word to use. Finally, he came up with “dumbass”.
Rob smiled. “Don’t worry. It takes a lot more than that to offend me,” he said. “I happened to hear that you needed an engagement ring for your girlfriend?”
Bellamy blushed. “I mean… I ain’t, y’know, sure we gonna get married, or whatever, I mean, you know, I was just sayin’, like, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout — I love her, for real, for sure, man, and she ain’t no communist. I just, I think, I ain’t sure, I wanna like, I mean, I know-“
“Okay, shut up, son, that communist pussy has turned your tongue into a retard,” Lyle said. “You shouldn’t eat so goddamn much —pussy ” He glanced back at Rob again. “Sorry… I mean, vagina…” It sounded like he had possibly never said the word vagina out loud before.
Rob waved that off and took out his phone. “How much do I owe you for the air conditioner?”
“Eighty bucks.”
He activated the PayUp to pay the bill. “Would you two like to earn an extra thousand dollars? You could buy a nice engagement ring for that.”
“Shit, yeah,” Bellamy said.
“Whatevuh you need, suh,” Lyle said.
“Well… I admire a man with a marvelous physique,” Rob said. “So I was wondering, for a thousand dollars-“
“Ha! He want a taste of ya meat, boy!” Lyle said. “You gonna do the prison-tango!” He grabbed for Bellamy’s crotch, but Bellamy blushed and smacked his hand away.
“Gramps, let go!” Bellamy’s mouth was agape.
“You gonna earn that engagement ring the hard way, boy!”
Rob cleared his throat. “I don’t think communists do engagement rings. It’s too bourgeoisie.”
“She’s not communist!”
Rob smiled and squeezed Bellamy’s biceps. “You’re adorable, and I bet your little Maoist girlfriend loves your body-“
“I don’t know what that means, but she’s not a Maoist either.”
“I’m not interested in you though,” Rob said. He turned to Lyle, whose balding head gleamed. His tee-shirt was soaked with sweat even though he hadn’t done much work yet and it wasn’t even too hot outside. Lyle looked at him like he was confused. Rob came closer. “I like my meat finely aged.”
Lyle furrowed his brow.
“You like me?”
Rob nodded. He placed a hand on the waist of Lyle’s jeans. “I like you a lot. So how about you let me take a taste, and I give you a thousand dollars, and if your would-be granddaughter-in-law deserves it, you buy her that engagement ring. Or if not, you can buy her a beet with which she can make borscht,” Rob said. He smacked his lips. “It’s a win-win.”
They were both shocked. Bellamy was so handsome girls threw themselves at him. He’d fucked his math teacher, he nearly banged his way into college, but he ended up going to business with his stupid dad instead. On several occasions, old men had offered him money on the street to give them his undershirt or jockstrap. Bellamy had done some modeling for a local hot tub store.
So Bellamy thought he should be the one Rob paid. It was ridiculous that Rob liked his grandfather. It didn’t quite compute in Bellamy’s mind, and he kept thinking it was a prank. He watched as Rob sunk to his knees in front of Lyle. Lyle was balding, with just a perimeter of faded hair around his head, scalp gleaming with sweat.
Though he tried to hide it, Lyle was just as surprised as Bellamy. If he had known he was the object of Rob’s desire, Lyle would have never responded like he did. He only wanted to embarrass his cocky grandson and make him earn that thousand dollars so he would hurry up and get married. Lyle didn’t know that it was him whom Rob preferred.
“Ah, damn…” Lyle tried to look confident. When he was growing up, things were different. Stuff happened in the YMCA shower. That’s where it all went down back then.
But only really tough guys went around ramrodding freaks in the YMCA shower. Lyle never did. He always thought he could if he got real horny, but he never got over his hangups about it. What if somebody tried to ramrod Lyle? What if he got another man’s cum on his hand? All those things seemed very important back in the 1970s, when Lyle and his fellow factory workers had crowded cock-in-crack into overstuffed showers, teasing each other about who got hard and who had a tiny dick.
Rob popped Lyle’s dick in his mouth. It tasted like old-guy-cock, Rob thought, like old-fashioned unscented bar soap. There was a faintly bitter taste to it and a mark that ran along the shaft — a small scar. It was big and his balls were so heavy and low-hanging that Rob couldn’t help but pop them both in his mouth. His sac was hairy and wrinkled and tasted so good Rob let out a little moan.
“Ah, damn, Gramps, he’s slurpin’ on ya balls, that’s nasty,” Bellamy said. He laughed, and his laughter slowly grew due to his anxiety, until he was red-faced and giggling like a schoolgirl. “He’s eatin’ ya fromunda juice. Oh shit!”
His balls were sour and strongly flavored, with a potent enough flavor to bring tears to Bellamy’s eyes. Rob lazily stroked Lyle’s cock with his other hand, while he savored the flavor of his worksweat-soaked sac, his tongue snaking to tease out every drop of manly juices. Lyle’s shaft was still soft, just barely starting to perk up in rob’s grip. Neither Rob nor Lyle were in any particular hurry.
When Lyle took his shirt off, his dick now totally hard and throbbing in Rob’s mouth, his grandson did the same — a part of Bellamy still didn’t quite understand why Rob would pick Gramps instead of him. He thought maybe Rob just needed to see his perfect six-pack and tapered torso.
Why are you trying to talk him into it? Just be glad he picked Gramps. Bellamy would have felt compelled to agree if Rob had chosen him. There was nothing he couldn’t do with his dick. He brought girls to orgasm in no time. Black girls! Those black girls would never go for Gramps.
Well, the one who was a whore would. But, you know, Gramps wouldn’t make her cum like Bellamy did.
It would have been humiliating to say no to Rob, which was why Bellamy was glad, though indignant, that he wasn’t chosen.
Resuming deep-throating Lyle’s cock, Rob forced that entire rod down his gullet until his nose was nestled in Lyle’s pubic hair. He didn’t trim his pubes, unlike most men these days. Rob appreciated that. Lyle didn’t even know he was old-fashioned for letting his pubic bush grow free. Rob reached up to tweak Lyle’s nipples, making his powerful pecs ripple. Lyle was smaller than his massive grandson, of course, his skin a little shriveled, like a muscular raisin. But those marks and imperfections were precisely what Rob thought was sexy.
He had no interest in a smooth, perfect chest, he liked the meaty realness of Lyle’s body. He was brimming with power, body heat emanating off him, and his body was perfectly padded, giving him just enough flesh for Rob to play with as he handled Lyle’s meat.
When Rob pulled off his dick, he croaked, mouth full of precum, “You taste so good… Hit me with your cock, daddy.” He kept his mouth open and his tongue out. Lyle looked at him like he didn’t want to do it, but he gamely smacked Rob’s tongue and cheeks with his cock.
After doing it a few times, Lyle bristled and puffed up his chest. He couldn’t help but feel good — he had long ago been dumped by a girl because he asked her if he could mollywop her — that was what he called it when you smacked someone in the face with your dick — and she had said yes, then got offended that he did it (she thought it was just another word for a blowjob). Lyle thought it would be hot for her, so he had been offended that she was upset by his cock. It turned into a huge fight that ended the relationship. Seemed silly now.
So Lyle liked doing it now, smacking Rob and watching him chase his cock with his mouth. Then finally Rob got it back on his tongue, slathering spit all up and down the shaft. Lyle leaned his head back and moaned.
Bellamy had backed way up by then. He couldn’t believe he was watching this, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Am I really gonna watch my grandfather bust a nut? He was technically a step-grandfather, no blood relation. But Bellamy still couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Gramps has got a veiny cock. I bet my cock is smoother. Bellamy wanted to ask whether smoother was better, but he wasn’t going to admit he had looked at his grandfather’s dick.
“Hmm… Ram me, please! I need to feel your dick inside me!” Rob hadn’t planned on asking for Lyle to wreck his ass — he didn’t think Lyle would do it with his grandson right there. But he glanced up into Lyle’s sun- and wind-weathered face and saw desire there. He could tell Lyle wanted something more intense.
Sure enough, Lyle was glad to ram him. He snarled like it was a big imposition though. He realized only as Rob bent over with his ass in the air that he should have asked for more money. But now that he had wedged his dick into Rob’s tight ass, there was no way he could get paid for it, now that it was obvious he’d do it for free.
“Fine, boy, I’ll get inside ya-” He turned to Bellamy, who gasped and closed his eyes. “Come closer.” He slapped Bellamy’s cheek. “That’s for actin’ like a right prude, son. Just cuz you ain’t done time don’t mean you gotta act like a nun.”
“Man, Gramps… Was you a booty bandit in prison?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Lyle said. He had never rammed a man in prison, not if you define ‘ram’ in a certain way. He did give a reacharound or two, which ain’t a proper ramming by prison rules. At least prison rules as of back in the day, back when things was proper. He was glad to look tough in front of his grandson, who was so muscular and thick that Lyle sometimes felt inadequate. When he first saw Bellamy getting big and athletic, years ago, he thought he couldn’t wait for the day his grandson was stronger than he was. But now it just made him feel old, and feeling that way made him feel like a selfish, shitty grandfather.
A shock of pleasure shot up Lyle’s spine, reminding him that he was here to ram and make money, not show off to his grandson. He liked that Rob writhed beneath him, submitting to his power like he liked it. Rob grunted and moaned, orgasmic bliss flowing through his veins.
The best part of getting rammed by a huge cock, Rob thought, was how awkward and technically bad it was — Lyle tried to avoid touching Rob more than necessary, and he avoided looking at his own cock too much as it slid into Rob’s ass. That made it a difficult process, with awkward angles and moist grunts in Rob’s ear. It also made it last longer. Rob’s orgasm dragged on as Lyle rammed him hard, stimulating his prostate hard and shooting his wad deeply into Rob’s tight ass.
Bellamy winced and stepped away, still unable to close his eyes or turn his head as he watched both men orgasm. His grandfather bucked and slammed into Rob, both of them going to the floor, where Rob squirmed beneath Lyle’s body. Exquisite sensations wracked Lyle’s muscles and Rob’s more delicate frame.
It felt better than Rob was expecting. Lyle’s fat dick expertly slammed into his prostate, sending pangs of pleasure to erupt throughout his body. Rob cried out, and Lyle chuckled, the motion of which made his dick piston like a battering ram into Rob’s ass. Each thrust sent another wave of jizz to fill him up.
“Ah, goddamn, boy…” Lyle’s voice was gravelly and tense, resonant in Rob’s ear. Some drops of spit landed on Rob’s earlobe. “Shit…”
“Uh, I- I… uh…” Rob was unable to talk as cum flowed into him. Lyle buckled, grinding his dick in Rob. Warm, creamy cum coated Rob’s insides, a bigger load filling him up than he thought possible from such an old man.
“Shit!” Lyle said once more. He grabbed Rob’s hair, intending to pull off him but keep a grip on his hair until he paid up. Then an aftershock of his orgasm roiled him, and Lyle just found himself plowing Rob again, ramming his limpening dick in and out. That made a big frothy mess as cum dripped out and all over the floor.
Unable to breathe due to how good this felt, Lyle closed his eyes, keeping a tight grip on Rob’s hair. His dick softened in Rob’s ass, while Rob whimpered and gasped for air. The pressure in his body was intense.
“Oh god!” Rob screamed. A final few drops of jizz hit his prostate, and a tsunami of bliss wracked his body. That was when Rob at last reached his own orgasm. His hand furiously whacked at his own meat, and his moan turned into a low-melting groan as his knees went weak. He was supported entirely in Lyle’s powerful arms.
A jet of cum spurted onto the floor in front of Rob. It felt like Lyle had already been cumming for hours, and Rob experienced every moment of that as though it was his own. But now his own orgasm flooded his veins like melted butter, and his sensitive dick throbbed in his grip.
That lasted only until Lyle wrapped one arm around Rob and kissed him on the cheek. He stroked him off silently, right there in front of his grandson, who shielded his eyes and blushed and chuckled and groaned and complained and shrugged all at once. But Lyle got both hands on Rob’s dick to pull him through the last of his orgasm, and he didn’t need to say that this was a secret, that he didn’t want his grandson to know he was giving a reacharound, that the reason he said he didn’t ramrod a man in prison was that at the time it didn’t count if you gave a reacharound, so the reason he did it now was to show his respect and appreciation for the ecstasy Rob had given him.
At last, Lyle pulled out and sighed. He smacked one of Rob’s cheeks. He looked to his grandson. “See, boy? That’s how a real man does it.”
“Shut up, Gramps… That’s how an old man does it.”
Lyle glared at Rob. “You gonna pay up?” His dick glistened and shone with all the fluids dripping off it. Lyle hefted it in one hand and smirked at his grandson, who was back to holding his face in his hands and groaning like a sad mummy. Lyle winked at Rob, who blushed and nodded.
“Of course,” Rob said. He took his phone out and started tapping, as he got the payment details from Bellamy — Lyle didn’t have PayUp, of course, he considered all smartphones to be namby-pamby bullshit. He was right, but Rob still had one, and he paid it to Bellamy to pass on to his grandfather.. “I’ll put finely-aged meat in the memo field,” Rob said as he tapped his way through the signature screen. “Let me know if you’ve got poker buddies or whatever. I can set up a gloryhole for the night. They gotta be your age though.”
“Oh that’s nasty,” Bellamy said. His cheeks burned red as though it was him that was embarrassed about it. He sneered at Rob. “You’re nasty.”
“Shut up, boy, you’re just jealous,” Lyle said. His face was ruddy, beads of sweat collecting on the worry-wrinkles beneath his eyes. He finally wiped his dick off with Bellamy’s shirt, which lay on the floor still. Bellamy didn’t notice his grandfather cleaning santorum off his shaft with his shirt, which made Lyle chuckle and put out a mischievious smile.
Rob smiled. “No, he’s right. It is nasty, but that’s why I like it,” he said. “Thanks for fixing the air conditioner, and good luck with your communist marriage.”
“Socialist! She assured me there’s a difference.”