Jim is a guy I met almost four years ago now. He comes to New York to work on the amazing brownstones that populate certain neighborhoods like the Upper West Side and Park Slope in Brooklyn. Beautiful old places that needs lots of work and tender loving care. Jim is a master plaster craftsman. His hands work magic in many ways . . .
I met him in the Starbucks at Columbus Circle. We were both waiting in line for our coffee and I was appreciating his fine form, the way his goateed face seemed lost in thought and his large pecs and thin waist. I could tell he worked with his hands for a living and that made me look to see what his hands looked like.
They did not disappoint. Masculine, lots of dark hair running up his forearm and creeping out of the top of his shirt. I stared right at his crotch and then looked up into his eyes and said hello. I offered to buy his coffee and since he had already paid, just sort of laughed and asked if I wanted to take a walk with him. We grabbed our coffees and headed across the street to the entrance to Central Park. We walked north on the left hand side of the park and I was transfixed by the way he spoke -- a strong Boston accent and the way he drank his coffee was almost like he held himself back from devouring the cup.
He asked me what I did and I told him and I of course was curious about his work. He told me he was working on a brownstone up on 74th Street and did I want to see it? He explained that the house was under total renovation and we would have the place to ourselves.
I wish I had a more clear accounting of what happened when we entered the house. Ladders, plaster, the heavy smell of paint, tarps all over and the two of us wrestling out of our clothes so fast, I recall him stepping through a hole in his his jeans and ripping them further. This furry fucker was a total match.I wish I had a pic of his mouth to share, it is one of those intensely strong mouths that just enters and devours. same height, same intensity, making out. Who was going to drop a knee first?
It was me. I sucked his fat cock like there was no tomorrow and he just kept one hand on the back of the base of my neck for added pressure. Thighs like rocks that would later almost suffocate me. God how many hours I have spent holding on to those legs in one position or another. yes, I see him several times a year when he comes to the city to work.
His furry nuts smelled like a man who works hard for a living. I lapped at them forever. And Jim knows what he likes and what he doesn't. The kind of lover that more ravishes you than makes love to you even when he is getting fucked. His ass has a way of milking my dick and pulling me in deep.
And when I cum in that dense dark fur, it is like his hair and skin absorb it and want more. He is a man who can appreciate being edged and then all of a sudden, releases a torrent of energy and thick creamy cum.
I know little of his life back in Boston and that is fine. But I have seen some of the most beautiful houses in NYC under renovation and learned from a master, how to appreciate skilled craftsmen.