The Leak

Hey yinz, here's a quickie I wrote yesterday. I know, I know: it uses the hoariest cliche in the book, but I couldn't resist. Anyway, have a good holiday. I enjoy Thanksgiving, even as I keep in mind that it's some weird white attempt to deny that our country is built on genocide. I hope you'll keep that in mind, too. 

“Hey Michael, can you give me a hand for a second?” my landlord Derek said from the kitchen. I set my book on the coffee table. It’s always awkward when the landlord has to fix something when you’re home.  

“Yeah just a sec,” I said, and headed down the hall. Derek was on my kitchen floor, his head and shoulders stuffed in the cabinet under the sink. His shirt had rode above his jeans, exposing the waistband of his white briefs. Above that was a strip of tight, furry stomach and curved back. He twisted his head to look at me.  

“I need you to hold this wrench,” he said.  

“Okay,” I said, and approached him, thinking, Is a wrench the thing with a pointy end or the thing with a clamp? I’m not what you’d call a handy person.

Thankfully he was holding on to it and all I had to do was replace his hand with mine. “Just keep this tight,” he said. I was kneeling next to him and it was awkward. I shifted to try and get a better grip. “It’s better if you get in here with me,” he said. So I laid on the floor next to him and stuck my head in the cabinet. “There you go,” he said, and gave me a smirk.  

I’d had a boner for my handsome landlord ever since I’d moved in. He was a young married guy, a dad, and he had a tight body and a friendly face.  

Now we were as close as we’d ever been, stuffed into the cabinet under my kitchen sink. He smelled good, like his deodorant had worn off and his musk was starting to come through.  

“Alright,” he said. I was momentarily mesmerized by the stubble on his his strong jaw and chin. “Just hold it really tight.” He had another wrench on the lower half of what I was holding and he twisted it. I had to twist against what he was doing. He was using his whole body to try to tighten it, and his leg kicked against mine and just sort of rested there.  

“Fuck,” he said, and grunted as he tried to tighten it again. Then, all the sudden, water came shooting out, spraying our faces and chests. “Goddamn it!” he said.  

I scrambled out of the sink and stood up. He managed to shut off the water but when he stood up he was completely soaked. “Fuck,” he said again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said. He pushed his wet hair back from his face which made his bicep flex. Then he looked down at his body. His white t-shirt was completely see-through and I could see his hairy chest and his round nipples. He pulled it away from his body.  

“Let me get you a t-shirt,” I said.

“You sure?” he said.

“It’s no problem,” I said. I went into my room and ditched my wet shirt. I was about to go in my closet and find him a dry shirt when I realized he’d come into my room. He stood there, just inside my doorway, the dripping shirt in his hand. His bare chest and stomach were tight and defined, hairy in all the right places. A treasure trail led into the waistband of his jeans.  

“One sec,” I said, and forced my gaze away from him. Then I scrambled into the closet.

“I really appreciate it,” he said as I rooted around. "I might have to come back...grab a different tool from home," he said, walking closer to the closet.

“It’s fine," I called out. "I don’t use the sink all that much anyway." My heart was racing knowing he was so close and so...shirtless. I grabbed a t-shirt from the bottom of a pile and stepped out of the closet. 

"Here," I said, and handed the shirt to him, but he had this look in his eye. He was staring at me - watching me watch him. He took the shirt and for a moment we just looked at each other, the tension and attraction thickening. Then he reached forward and took hold of my wrist. He pulled my hand to his packed crotch. I felt it, and squeezed. It pulsed and swelled.

We didn’t say anything. The look in his eyes had gone from friendly professionalism to pure lust in about two seconds. I massaged his bulge in my hand – it was inflating like a balloon on a helium tank.  

He reached for his buckle and undid his pants. I took my hand away and he shoved his pants and underwear down over his thighs. His cock bounded out, the fat tube of it peeling away from his balls as it rose into the air.  

I got down on my knees and smelled him for the second time that day, but this time the smell was much more concentrated: the scent of his sweaty balls and cock. I licked at the head, then I took the whole thing into my mouth.  

“Fuck yeah,” he whispered. I had the curtains closed in my bedroom – which, technically, was his bedroom – and the dim light added to the sense that what we were doing was secret, maybe even dangerous. His cock was totally hard and I worked it in and out, taking it down my throat and holding it there. “Fuck you’re gonna make me cum,” he said.

“Mm hm,” I said around his dick. I kept up a steady pace – I’d never wanted to eat cum more than the load from my sexy, straight landlord.  

“Here it comes,” he said, still in that soft voice. “I’m cumming. Fuck...fuck...” His knees buckled a little as my mouth was flooded with a quart of creamy cum. I swallowed it all down. Then, with some trepidation, I looked up at him. His expression was half shock and half relief.  

“Damn,” he said, buckling up. “I’ve never had head that good before.”

“Thanks,’ I said, standing up and wiping off my mouth. Derek shifted on his feet. He looked at the shirt in his hand.  

“I...uh...I guess I’ll clean up in there and...be on my way.”

“Sounds good,” I said. He slung the shirt over his bare shoulder and started out of my room. Then he hesitated and looked back.  

“I...uh – this stays between us, right?” he said.

“Absolutely,” I said.  

“Cool,” he said, with a smirk. I paced in my room as I waited for him to leave, and then aimlessly rooted around in my closet. I'd just been thinking Wait, which shirt did I give him?  when I heard him out in the hallway. 

"Bye! Thanks!" he called. I poked my head out of the bedroom; he was shutting the front door behind him. But before he disappeared I realized: it was the one I'd won at Pride last year. The shirt with the big, gay rainbow on the back.