Sexy Gay Stories - Volume Four - three m/m short stories

always have walking-around money. I wear designer label clothes. I don’t wear a uniform with my name on it.’
    I ignored the unintended insult. ‘Why aren’t you in the main house?’
    ‘Old Man Winchester wants me to come when he calls, but doesn’t want me in his face all the time.’
    Kyle placed his hand on my knee and slid it up the inside of my thigh, ending the conversation. My cock responded to his touch, beginning to rise before Kyle’s fingers reached my crotch. Then, through some quick digital manipulation, he returned my cock to its former stature.
    He rolled over and reached into the nightstand, handed me a crumpled tube of lube, and then rolled face down on the bed. I squeezed a dollop of lube on my finger and slid my finger down his ass crack to his tight little sphincter. I massaged him until he relaxed and I was able to slip one finger into him.
    Kyle moaned with pleasure as I stroked my finger in and out and soon I was able to ease a second finger into him. As soon as I was able to do that, I positioned myself behind Kyle, grabbed his hips and urged him onto his knees. Kyle had his face planted in a pillow and his ass pointed at the ceiling as I moved even closer.
    I pressed my cockhead against Kyle’s well-lubed sphincter and grabbed his hips. With one forceful push, I sank my cock deep into him. Then I drew back until only my cockhead remained inside him before I pushed forward again. As I pumped into his ass, Kyle grabbed his cock and began jerking off, his rhythm matching mine.
    He came first, spewing come all over his rumpled bedspread. I wasn’t anywhere near orgasm, and I held tight to his hips as I pounded into him, not realising until later that I was leaving his hips bruised from the strength of my grip. I pounded into his ass again and again and when I couldn’t hold back any longer, I came with a roar and filled his ass with hot spunk.
    I held his ass tight against my crotch until my cock stopped spasming, and then I pulled out in one smooth motion. Kyle collapsed on the bed as I sat back on my heels and tried to catch my breath.
    ‘You’d better go now,’ Kyle said, still face down in the pillow. ‘Old Man Winchester will be home soon.’
    I was late returning to the office and turning in my truck. The supervisor asked if I’d had any problems and if I needed help servicing the Winchester account. I had to assure him I hadn’t encountered anything I couldn’t handle by myself, and, to convince him of that, I refused to claim overtime for the day.

    Kyle and I spent much of the next several Thursday afternoons in the pool house, drinking beer and fucking like rabbits. The yard suffered from my inattention, but not so much that the average person would notice.
    Our window of opportunity was small because we had to ensure that I left the property before Winchester returned home and that I returned to the landscaping and lawn care company office early enough that I didn’t provoke additional questions from my supervisor.
    In early September, Kyle’s mood began to change. There wasn’t anything specific I could put my finger on; he just seemed more distant, requiring less foreplay and encouraging me to leave immediately after we finished fucking. He even stopped the pretence of offering me a beer while I was working in the rose garden. He just stood in the window and motioned me inside.
    The last Thursday in September I followed the usual pattern – mow, edge, head for the rose garden – but this time the pool house blinds were closed.
    I didn’t bother watering the roses. Instead, I pushed my way into the darkened pool house, where I found Old Man Winchester sitting on the edge of the unmade bed. He wore a smartly tailored three-piece suit and had a cheque book open on his lap.
    ‘How much, Mr Fowler?’ He had the deep, steely voice of a man accustomed to getting his way.
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘How much to walk away now and never see Kyle again?’
    ‘Is that what he wants?’ I asked.
    ‘That’s what I want.’
    ‘Do you always get what you want?’
    ‘Always.’
    I stared at the old man.
    ‘If I see you here next week, I’ll call and cancel the lawn care contract. Your employers will want to know why. Do you want me to tell them?’
    I didn’t respond. I still hadn’t come out of the toolshed.
    Winchester wrote a cheque, tore it from the cheque book, and then slipped the cheque book and pen into his inside jacket pocket. As he stood, he folded the cheque