Robby is desperate for a job, so when he shows up for an interview, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it… even if Mr. Taggart has some interesting ideas on how to meet his needs. Can Robby perform under pressure?
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Robby went to the house on Morning Street dressed to work. It was not a business address, it was a private house. Robby tried not to feel nervous about that. He brought along his old toolbelt and a toolbox with almost nothing in it, because he didn’t own very many tools. He read somewhere that you should dress for the job you want, not the job you have. But Robby didn’t have a job — he was an out-of-work carpenter — and the job he wanted was to be a stuntman in Hollywood — he couldn’t exactly wear a burn-suit to meet a potential client.
He liked calling the people who hired him his clients. It sounded highfalutin’. Robby was a general laborer, doing whatever he could to make a few dollars. He was always on the lookout for something he could do to earn money. His mechanical skills made him useful in a lot of situations, it was just hard to find folks — or sorry, clients.
So he had no idea who his client was, but he sounded like a blue-collar kind of guy on the phone, probably middle-aged or older. That was why Robby went dressed to work as a carpenter. He figured someone like that would want a sign that Robby was a serious worker, not a newbie trying to learn on the job, not a hobo wanting to get paid upfront so he could drink all day, a serious worker who came on the first day ready to do whatever needed to be done. That was the kind of worker Robby was.
Or at least the kind of worker he wanted to seem to be.
The client was some guy who said on the phone that he needed a deck built. He had the plans, the permits, the wood, the nails, and everything else that was needed. He just needed someone to do the work. Robby could do that work. He was a carpenter by trade, stuntman by lifelong goal.
Robby knocked on the door.
“Howdy, you must be Robby,” said Mr. Taggarxt, a thickly built middle-aged man with deep, dark eyes and a bristly mustache. He was very tanned, with remnants of perpetual sunburn on his nape and shoulders, and his craggy face was weathered like a soldier, which Robby suspected he was. He had the vibe of an ex-military man.
“Yep. Yes, sir. Hello,” Robby said. “Howdy.”
“Come on into the back, I’ll show you what it is,” Mr. Taggart said. “I got all the wood out back ready for you-“
“Oh sorry, is this… did you…?” Robby wanted to ask if he was hired, but he wasn’t sure if that would seem weak. Had Mr. Taggart already decided to hire him? He had definitely suggested on the phone that he was going to see some other laborers too.
Mr. Taggart screwed up his eyebrows at him. “You okay?”
“I, uh…” Robby didn’t want to suggest someone else might be hired for the gig. “I just wasn’t sure you wanted me to start today. But that’s no problem, I’d rather do it today. I need to make a payment this week.”
“A payment?”
Robby nodded. “I got this debt… It’s child support, honestly, lemme be totally honest wit’ you. I’m a good worker, for real, I just… I got these daughters, man, I ain’t even sure they’s mine, I swear,” he said. “Mother’s a fuckin’… Well, we don’t get along, and she always tellin’ the judge I make a shit-ton of money. Buncha lies and shit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I gotta make a payment this week.” Robby blushed. He realized only now that talking about this stuff was probably not a good way to get hired for the gig — it didn’t make him sound stable or reliable. But it was too late now.
“I can understand that, yessuh,” Mr. Taggart said. “Go’n then.” He chewed on his lip, like he wasn’t really interested in Robby’s problems but was willing to listen to him talk about them. He opened the sliding glass door to the backyard and pointed to the wood.
He spent the next twenty minutes explaining exactly how this deck was supposed to go. Mr. Taggart was knowledgeable on carpentry, but he didn’t have the time to do it himself. That was inconvenient for Robby — someone who knew how to do it himself was likely to both pay less and complain if it wasn’t quite perfect. Those who didn’t know would accept any price offered, generally speaking, and they wouldn’t even know what to look for to decide if it was well-done.
Not that Robby was going to do a poor job. He was a good worker.
Despite Mr. Taggart’s gruff nature, he came across as fair. He offered an okay price, and he listened gamely when Robby tried to negotiate. He didn’t accept Robby’s counteroffer though, forcing Robby to embarrassedly agree to what Mr. Taggart had offered to begin with.
“Thank you, suh, and I promise I’ll do the best work I can, I swear to God. I’m a good worker, no kidding,” Robby said.
Mr. Taggart nodded like he didn’t really care. He was the kind of foreman who had a way of getting the work he needed from the men who worked for him. He would get it one way or another.
He left Robby to get started on his own. Robby liked that part. He really wished he could work like this and not worry about anything else. He could do the actual building, any kind of mechanical labor would be fine with him. He’d gladly work twelve hours a day if it came with a promise he’d get paid enough to live. It was all the other stuff, the showing up on time, the interviewing, the “probationary periods”, the police, drunk driving laws, safety regulations, all of that stuff made it difficult.
It felt right to work with his hands, to use his muscles to survive and build a deck. He liked seeing the pieces come together.
Of course, not that much actually came together today. It took almost all day to cut the wood to size. He got the posts in the ground for the foundation, and by then, he was exhausted. He was drenched with sweat, his dirty blond hair plastered to his forehead. His shoulders ached, and his thumb throbbed because he dropped a bunch of slats of wood onto it. He kept sucking on it, until he realized he would look like a baby sucking his thumb in Mr. Taggart’s eyes.
Most clients would have come out to check on him at some point, but Mr. Taggart never had. Robby came tentatively to the house and stepped in. He wasn’t sure if Mr. Taggart was the kind of guy who didn’t want his workers in the house more than necessary.
“Hey, uh, Mister Taggart?” Robby called out.
He heard movement down the hall and went that way. Was that moaning? It almost sounded like a woman moaning. Robby was just wondering if he was about to walk in on something when a bedroom door opened.
Mr. Taggart walked out. He left the door open, and the sounds of porn filled the air. A woman’s moaning voice was plainly audible, but it was clearly a recording, not a real woman. Robby blushed, but Mr. Taggart seemed nonchalant.
“You done for today?”
Robby nodded. “Yeah. I think I got pretty far today, you wanna see?”
“Nah. I’m busy now. I’ll look at it tomorrow,” Mr. Taggart said. He glanced into the bedroom. “Sorry. I’s just watchin’ a movie. You wanna see it wit’ me?”
Robby shrugged. He had no idea why he said yes. He hadn’t watched porno with another man in more than a decade — that just wasn’t a thing anymore, now that Internet porn was so common, he thought. Who even watched porno videos on a TV screen? But it was an alluring option. For one thing, it would help cement a relationship with Mr. Taggart. He might be more willing to hire Robby agaian.
This was clearly a VHS tape. That was obvious when Mr. Taggart fast-forwarded it. Robby blushed. Mr. Taggart has a VCR. Who has a VCR? Robby sat back on the bed, on one edge, while Mr. Taggart sat on the other side, then scooted close to the middle.
“You ain’t got no pro’lem beatin’ ya meat wit’ a man, huh?” Mr. Taggart said. He aimed his dick in Robby’s direction and have it one stroke. He chuckled throatily
Robby’s eyes opened wide. “I, uh…” He hadn’t thought they were going to circlejerk, but he kind of did want to do it. The idea held a certain allure to it — it would be exciting and grimy, and the punk-rock girl at the convenience store he had a crush on would think it was sexy.
So maybe, he thought, he should do it. It wasn’t too weird. They probably wouldn’t even touch. Probably.
Would they?
The porno movie was some sort of amateur underground thing. Did the women even realize they were being filmed? Robby got an uncomfortable feeling like they didn’t know. The man definitely knew, the mustachioed freak with the huge dick, he was angling his body so the camera could clearly see his cock where it slid between this one woman’s huge tits. He titty-fucked her, groaning and moaning for the camera’s benefit.
But Robby found it hard to pay consistent attention to the movie. Mr. Taggart’s body heat seemed to fill the bedspace, and Robby couldn’t bring himself to look directly at his dick, yet he couldn’t stop sneaking peeks in his periphery either.
Mr. Taggart flopped his giant dick out as though it was nothing, as though he did this every day. He didn’t drop his pants, just lowered them enough to take his cock out. Robby gulped. There was something about it that demanded he look at it. He couldn’t look right at it because he thought he’d look weird. He couldn’t look away either. He stared at it intently out of the corner of his eyes. That didn’t satisfy either itch — it still felt uncomfortably weird, and he still wanted to look at it straight on.
Was Mr. Taggart expecting him to stroke it?
But Mr. Taggart didn’t say so. He just watched the screen. He hadn’t even noticed that Robby hadn’t taken his own dick out yet. Mr. Taggart was deeply engrossed in the porno. The “college girls” on screen had a pillow fight in their dorm, and Mr. Taggart licked his teeth as the bras popped off and the pillows went flying.
Finally, when Robby was sure Mr. Taggart wasn’t watching, Robby did take his dick out. He was glad he had a big cock. He was sometimes embarrassed by how big it was. Once guys knew, they kept demanding he take it out.
Robby considered leaving. He could just go — he doubted Mr. Taggart would hire someone else instead. By the time he called more people in and found a new guy, Robby could have already finished the deck.
Mr. Taggart took off his shirt. He had a thicker body than Robby, and he was probably stronger. His skin was a rich ruddy tanned-brown, suggesting Mr. Taggart must tan shirtless often. Robby felt small in comparison to Mr. Taggart, but he was younger and had a six-pack, which helped even it out.
“Man, ain’t that chick hot?” Mr. Taggart asked.
“Uh-huh.” Robby had barely paid a lick of attention to the porno. He hadn’t even noticed that he was still totally limp while Mr. Taggart’s dick was rock-hard. He was going to look like a fool if he didn’t get hard.
“You havin’ trouble gettin’ hard? Huh? You wanna play around? I can get you hard.”
“Uh… I’ve never done anything like that,” Robby said. He blushed.
“Oh yeah?” Mr. Taggart asked with a throaty chuckle. “Ain’t gonna hurt. Just men doin’ what they gotta do. It’s always better to have another hand, ain’t it? Feels better than ya own.”
“I, uh… I dunno…” Robby sucked in his breath as Mr. Taggart reached over and gripped his dick. Robby hadn’t taken his shirt off, nor even lowered his pants any more than he needed to. Mr. Taggart’s shirt was off and his pants had migrated to his ankles.
Without taking his eyes off the porno, Mr. Taggart grabbed Robby’s cock and stroked it. Robby gasped.
The most surprising thing, he thought, was that it really did feel good. Mr. Taggart had been right. This did feel better than masturbating alone would have.
His dick quickly firmed up in Mr. Taggart’s hand. Robby had his eyes closed, so he didn’t see it when Mr. Taggart came closer to him, not until he felt Mr. Taggart’s body heat. Then Mr. Taggart grabbed his hand and brought it to his own cock.
“Aaaaah…” Mr. Taggart moaned into his ear. “Ain’t that good, son?”
“Yeah…” Robby had to admit it was good. His own cock felt better than it had last time he had actual sex, and not much had even happened. His own cock felt so good he didn’t pay much attention to his own left hand on Mr. Taggart’s dick.
It was very thick, impossibly so, Robby was shocked by that. It felt fleshier too, like there was tons of loose skin and extra meat in the shaft. He rubbed his hand up and down but that reminded him of what he was doing.
So Robby stopped moving. Mr. Taggart, however, kept jacking him off and pumped his hips in sync with his hand. That way Robby could just grip his hand and Mr. Taggart humped his grip. It barely even felt like he was giving a handjob. His cock throbbed and pulsated.
“You ready, son?” Mr. Taggart murmured. “You gonna feel real good today.”
“Yeah…” Robby winced. What was he agreeing to? He didn’t know, but he wanted it to happen. He was desperate to get his rocks off. No girl had made him feel like this in a long time.
Mr. Taggart knelt down and popped Robby’s dick in his mouth. It wasn’t romantic or sweet, Robby thought, he did it like it was his job. Moist warmth suffused into Robby’s body through his shaft. He moaned too after a few seconds, like he was so nervous about this that there was a brief delay before he actually felt Mr. Taggart’s lips close around his shaft.
But then felt it better than it had any right to. Definitely no woman could ever swallow dick like this.
For one thing, Mr. Taggart was bigger than most women, with a deeper and more cavernous throat, meaning he could simply swallow way more cock. Robby’s eyes bugged out, and he gripped Mr. Taggart’s roughly-trimmed hair. His hands dug into Mr. Taggart’s scalp.
He didn’t plow into his throat though, despite Robby’s instinct to do precisely that. He wasn’t sure Mr. Taggart would be okay with it for one thing, and even more importantly, Mr. Taggart was already swallowing him to the root. There was no need to throat him down. Mr. Taggart’s nose rammed into Robby’s crotch.
“Ah, god — oh — oh shit, damn — I mean — Ooooooohhh…” Robby wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.
His hands flailed above Mr. Taggart’s head, then gripped his scalp again. Then he wasn’t sure Mr. Taggart liked that and stopped. This time, Mr. Taggart grabbed his hand, still without pulling off his dick. He led Robby’s hands back down to his crotch.
Robby gulped and gripped Mr. Taggart’s cock. Mr. Taggart was curled up, so he could swallow Robby’s dick with his upper half ensconced next to his Robby’s body. That meant Robby could easily reach over Mr. Taggart’s body to his rod.
It was rock-hard, precum glistening on the tip. It leaked goop onto Robby’s fingers.
“Shit…”?
He didn’t know why he had been so nervous about this. Mr. Taggart was weird — and his masculine body smelled like Robby’s father — but his mouth felt good on Robby’s cock. Robby couldn’t hold back his orgasm.
But Mr. Taggart didn’t let him cum just yet. Just when Robby was about to blow his wad, he got up and pulled his mouth from Robby’s dick. Robby gasped and for a moment tried to drag Mr. Taggart’s face back to his shaft.
“Gonna sit on ya dick, son, that okay? Jack me off, okay?”
“What? Uh… No way, I dunno…,” Robby said without giving it a second thought. He was nervous, but after having let Mr. Taggart jack him off, he didn’t see any reason to refuse to plow.
Not many girls let him do it in the butt on account of that huge cock — and his penchant for not showering sometimes — but Robby loved it when he did. He had never really thought about cornholing a man instead. It seemed like a reasonable idea now — ignoring all the societal ramifications, he thought, an ass was just an ass. Mr. Taggart had a thick, wide ass like Robby loved.
He sat on Robby’s dick. That was a position that Robby had never tried. His cock was too big for any girl to want that. Robby gulped when it started, his confidence wavering, because this position reminded him how big Mr. Taggart was.
He was thickly built, his muscles flexing as he squatted above Robby’s body. His smooth chest gleamed with sweat, the smell of which had filled the bedroom. Robby no longer noticed it like he had when he first came in and thought Mr. Taggart smelled like his dad. He sure didn’t smell like that now.
He smelled like funk now, and Robby liked it.
Mr. Taggart bit his lip and sunk down lower on Robby’s dick. Robby gasped and lifted his upper body up. He jacked on his breath. Again, just like when they had started jacking off together, Robby couldn’t bring himself to look away from Mr. Taggart’s dick.
It was half-hard now, his erection having diminished as he eased onto Robby’s dick. Now it flopped up and down. It looked huge and meaty. It twitched when Robby looked at it.
He gripped it and gave it a stroke. It was wet with precum, and it was slippery in Robby’s hand. He gulped. He had never thought he could be talked into doing this — the weird thing was: He hadn’t even needed to be talked into it. He had wanted to do it, in a way. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Robby couldn’t wait to see what it was like.
As Mr. Taggart began rising and falling on his dick, Robby again managed to almost forget he was jacking a man off. Even though he couldn’t look away, he still managed to think about the pleasure in his cock instead of that. But every time it twitched, or Mr. Taggart let out a moan, Robby was again aware of its veiny, iron-like shaft throbbing in his fingers. It was slick now with precum and sticky as hell. Some of it dripped onto Robby’s chest.
“Ah, yeah, stick it in me…”
He knew he was going to get cum on him. He couldn’t decide if he should be grossed out or not. He was glad he hadn’t swallowed Mr. Taggart’s dick or taken it up the ass — that was the rule he had set, and he had lived up to it. But getting cummed on was kind of a gray area, wasn’t it?
Robby hadn’t made a decision yet when it was rendered irrelevant by his own orgasm. It felt so good he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything else. Mr. Taggart’s ass clenched down on Robby’s cock, as he sunk all the way on it. It pulsated against Mr. Taggart’s prostate.
“Damn son, you hump nice….” Mr. Taggart let out a long, cringing moan.
For some reason the low vibrato of his voice was enough to send Robby over the edge. A few drops of cum sprayed into Mr. Taggart’s ass, then more and more. Robby felt it flow and wondered how it could be so much — he’d never shot a load like this. He writhed so intensely he wondered if he looked like a wuss — this felt rather like the first time he’d been with a woman, and had never felt anything so incredible.
He bit his lip and grunted. “Shit, man!” He gripped Mr. Taggart’s hips with both hands and drilled his dick in, grinding it deeply into Mr. Taggart’s body.
Mr. Taggart was expecting that — men who gave him a reacharound usually ended up stopping right as they both orgasmed, which was the worst time to stop from Mr. Taggart’s perspective.
But he was ready so he didn’t get blue-balled. He gripped his own dick and brought himself to orgasm in seconds. An explosion of pleasure erupted in both men. Robby let out a plaintive howl of desire, as his cock throbbed like a beast’s heart. Mr. Taggart groaned like a beast of burden caught in mud, and he threw his head back far. His powerful muscles all rippled and flexed.
A torrent of creamy cum shot out and over Robby’s chest and neck. Some of it splashed on his chin, but Robby’s eyes were closed and he was busy squirming with the intense pleasure shooting through him, so he didn’t notice. He just grunted and sucked on his teeth again.
Finally they were both done. Mr. Taggart remained deeply impaled on Robby’s dick until he had taken in every drop of cum, and squeezed out every drop of his own, each pearly drop dripping from Mr. Taggart’s callused fingers to Robby’s hair-dappled belly.
“Shit, son… Hell yeah,” Mr. Taggart said. He throatily chuckled. He massaged Robby’s chest muscles, smearing his own cum all over it.
Robby didn’t open his eyes until Mr. Taggart finally pulled off his dick, which fell limply against his thigh. Robby sucked in his breath as he watched Mr. Taggart lean down and lick his chest clean. He swallowed up all that cum he had spilled, slurping it noisily, making Robby gag just from the sound alone though he was glad to get the cum off his chest — he decided he wouldn’t tell anyone about that part and he definitely wouldn’t mention that he could taste salty cum on his lips too. Some of it must have splashed up there from his chin.
Finally Mr. Taggart pulled away from him, and Robby slipped off the bed, pleasure still coursing through his veins. He blushed and looked down. “I, uh… I… That was pretty good.” Robby heaved for breath. Now that that was over, he was much more tired than he thought he’d be. The adrenaline drained away, and all that was left as an intense need to lay his head.
Mr. Taggart snorted. “I know.” He reached over to open his nightstand drawer. “How much of a child support payment you got due?”
“Uh… Six hundred dollars.”
Mr. Taggart whistled. “Goddamn, son.” He handed over six crisp one-hundred dollar bills, then placed the stack of more money back in the drawer. He nodded at Robby. “Don’t think you can come back later and rob me just cuz you see my cash, son-“
“I wouldn’t! I swear!” Robby opened his wide. “Promise. No way. I’m not like that.”
“I got security you can only dream of,” he said. He smiled, flopping his limp dick between his fingers. He squeezed out a few drops of cum that he smeared over his shaft. “But if you gots more payments due next month, come see me again. I just might have more work for you.”
“Yessuh,” Robby said. He held back a smile because he didn’t want to seem too eager. That might come across as weird.
“Go’n now, get outta here. I’ll see you tomorrow mornin’, ready to work.”
“Yes, sir,” Robby said. “I’ll be here.”
