Hot Technician Copyright 2005 By Lee Mariner
This ADULT fantasy contains homosexual acts and erotic situation. Should you find such material offense or if you are not of legal age in your locality to be reading this material, please leave.
The author holds the exclusive copyright to this story, and All Rights are reserved. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives for posting under the provisions of their submission guidelines. It may not be reproduced, copied or archived on any other web site or by any individual without the specific written consent of the author.
All stories that I have posted on Nifty can be found under my name, Lee Mariner, in the Nifty Archives listing of Prolific Authors.
As always, I am deeply grateful to my friend, Dean, for his invaluable assistance in editing and proofing this and all of my work.
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I am sure that most homeowners have, at one time or the other, experienced the frustration that comes from the malfunctioning of their television sets, from overflowing sinks or toilets, clogged pipes or sewer lines, and from the second most irritating malfunction after the loss of the television set... the air-conditioning/heating systems.
Heating systems always seem to break down in the dead of winter, and air-conditioning when it is ninety degrees in the shade. This is my story.
I had spent several weeks looking for an older home, not one of the new glass/chrome monstrosities being built on postage stamp sized lots. I wanted some privacy and not having to listen to my neighbors arguing or kids screaming. I was about to pack it in when my real estate agent called telling me he thought he had found what I was looking for. From his description of the property and its location, it sounded promising; and I made an appointment to see it.
The house sat on a partially wooded two-acre lot and, at first sight, seemed to be what I was looking for. I was delighted to see that the owner was not in residence as that made inspection a lot easier. I hired a qualified property inspector to look for things that most homebuyers would over look, and he reported the property as being very well taken care of with only a few minor repairs needed. There was some caulking around a window or two that needed replacing, and the door to one of the two linen closets did not close properly.
A close friend had warned me to be sure that the roof shingles were not peeling and that the heating/air-conditioning systems were in good repair. Being a novice at home buying I heeded his advice, and made a point of emphasizing these points to the inspector. He advised that there were no deficiencies noted and that I had nothing to worry about. Within eighteen months of moving into the house, a routine service inspection revealed a crack in the fire bowl of the furnace; and, of course, the furnace had to be replaced.
I eventually settled on an oil furnace with heat pump combination. During the winter the heat pump would be the primary source of heat until the outside temperature dropped below forty degrees. If that happened, the oil furnace would automatically kick in. The reverse was true in the summer; the heat pump became the forced air source for the self-contained air-conditioning unit that was in the base of the furnace.
Everything was fine for two years or so until a particularly warm day when I was working at my computer and noticed it seemed warmer than usual. The digital thermostat had been set at seventy-five degrees; and, while I was checking it, I noticed that there was no sound in the overhead air return register. Had there been, it would have indicated that the forced air pump was operating.
When I called the company that had installed the system, they politely informed me that they wouldn't be able to take care of the problem until the following day. No amount of cajoling would sway the young lady, and an appointment was set up for the following day between eight o'clock and ten o'clock in the morning. I remember thinking to myself as I hung the telephone receiver up, "That really fucks up the morning."
I had resigned myself to an uncomfortable overnight when a friend called inviting me for dinner at the Foxfire Restaurant and Grill. I accepted and met him at the designated time.
The restaurant had a mixed but comfortable crowd of gays and straights. My friend, John Echols, had neglected to tell me that he had invited a new couple that he had recently met, to join us for dinner. They were both attractive and youngish, perhaps in their late twenties or early thirties. The conversation during dinner was the usual gay banter and gossip that most gays are good at. Daniel and Matthew, John's new friends, said very little after the initial introductions and the almost mandatory probing of their relationship. John was experienced at subtle interrogation, and he would pick the bones clean before he would be satisfied that he had gleaned what juicy tidbits he could before changing the subject. He delighted to be the center of attention and was proud of his seemingly inexhaustible fountain of gay community news.
I don't believe he obtained very much information about Daniel and Matthew. They were pretty tight lipped, but I noticed that they had roving eyes and would nudge each other when a particularly good-looking young man would pass our table. John would be talking so much that he did not see much of anything going on around him as long as he had a captive audience. I was not a prude and certainly had not taken a vow of celibacy; but my thoughts were more on the uncomfortably hot night ahead of me. John, of course, invited me to stay with him when he heard of my dilemma. Knowing John as I did, I knew there was always an ulterior motive to his invitations, and I declined. Rolling his eyes wildly, he pouted and waved his arms around as if in mortal distress at the thought of someone he thought so highly of suffering when there was no need.
Fortunately, since I sleep in the nude with only a sheet for cover, it was not too uncomfortable sleeping. I managed to rest and awoke at half past seven o'clock with my usual hard on. A long piss usually solved the problem, but this morning I was particularly horny, and my cock remained hard. I was thinking about Daniel and Matthew and wondering whether they had ever involved themselves in a ménage-a- trios'. There are some that enjoy a smorgasbord, but it was not what I enjoyed as I was a one-on-one person. John was not an unattractive man, and we did have sex until he attempted to subtly induce another man into having sex with us. I knew that John enjoyed multiple sex partners, and it was not beneath him to seduce two or three men for sex at the same time. He was a glutton for cock both oral and anal, the more the merrier.
Remembering that the dispatcher for Westminster Oil had said the service technician would arrive in the morning, I reluctantly resisted the temptation to jerk off and relieve the pressure in my groin. While I was washing up and shaving, my cock wilted to half-mast; but there was a noticeable bulge in the crotch of the loose fitting shorts that I had slipped on. "What the hell," I thought looking into the mirror, "I'm not ashamed of my cock." I started to take a t-shirt from my drawer and then changed my mind about wearing one. I'm not a vain person; but, like my cock, I am fairly well built and not ashamed of my body.
If the technician were male as was most likely, he shouldn't pay any attention to my only wearing shorts. If it were a female, which was not impossible, she had nothing to be worried about. I had learned, very definitely, while I was in the Army that my sexual preference was men; but, to satisfy the homophobic requirements, I had fucked a whore or two when off base on a pass with a buddy whom I would have much rather been in bed with.
The coffee pot was ready, and I flipped the switch to "on" as I passed it on the way to retrieve the daily newspaper. When I opened the front door the brilliance of the rising sun in the east almost blinded me, and I hesitated for a moment before opening the storm door to retrieve the newspaper. I hadn't checked the exterior thermometer that was mounted outside one of the breakfast nook windows; but, from the blast of hot air that hit me, I gauged it to be in the mid to upper eighties.
After pouring what was usually only my first mug of coffee, I was sitting at the table in the breakfast nook reading the newspaper when the front door chimes sounded. Pushing the chair back, I glanced up at the wall clock, it read twenty minutes past eight o'clock. "Hmmmmmm," I mused to myself, taking a quick sip of my coffee and thinking, "They are early enough."
When I opened the door, I was expecting, from past technicians that had been called in, to see an older rather unkempt person. I was stunned to see a sharply uniformed, attractive, broad-shouldered young man standing on the other side of the glass. His sandy hair was well groomed, and his hazel eyes were bright with the confidence that usually came with youth, high self-esteem and intelligence.
"Mr. Coleman, Mr. Aaron Coleman?" he asked, flashing brilliantly white and evenly spaced teeth.
"Wh..., Why, yes," I stammered, feeling very stupid as I continued. "You must be the technician that I was expecting from Westminster Oil," I said, feeling as if I were babbling.
"Yes, Sir," he replied flashing his brilliant teeth as he spoke. "I'm Brady Nobles, and you called the office about your system breaking down?"
"Yes, yesterday," I answered too quickly, a sudden feeling of panic washing over me when I felt my still half-flaccid cock stirring. "You're earlier than I expected," I said nervously, trying to stand sideways hoping my swelling cock would be less visible and wishing I had worn a pair of briefs under my thin shorts.
I could have sworn his eyes dropped briefly to my crotch, before he spoke. "I like to get an early start, Mr. Coleman. Could you show me where the unit is located?"
"Oh, yes," I answered, still nervous at the shock of seeing this young Adonis at my door. "It's out back, but you can come through the house; it's shorter," I said feeling a little less nervous but still a tad shaky.
"Thanks," he said, hesitating as he entered before continuing his comments as I closed the door and turned to show him the way to the furnace room. "I hope my being early didn't interrupt anything."
"No, not at all," I replied, breathing in deeply, a feeling of confidence returning as I clearly saw his eyes gazing down at the impression of my cock. "I was having coffee and reading the newspaper when you rang the doorbell, and I hadn't made any plans for the morning since I was expecting someone to be here," I said, letting him see me looking him over as I passed.
"I hope you didn't have to take off from work," he said quietly as he followed. "So many customers complain about missing work, and there is really nothing we can do about it."
For a brief moment, I hesitated before answering his inquiry, a flash of concern crossing my mind, and then I said, "I live alone, and I'm self-employed, Brady. I believe that is what you said your name is. "
"Yes, Sir," he said as we stepped into the kitchen. "One of my Mom's favorite television programs was The Brady Bunch; and she told me that, as I was born the same night as the program was on, she named me Brady after the program."
"It's a good thing she didn't include the rest of the program's title," I said chuckling softly. "You will find the unit and electrical panel in the furnace room, and you can use this door," I said, stopping in front of one of the kitchen windows and pointing at the outside door that led to the furnace room.
"Easy enough," he said softly as he moved beside me and looked out the window. "If it isn't too serious, it shouldn't take very long."
"You'll know more about that than I," I said demurely, inhaling deeply my nostrils detecting a strong aroma of English Leather cologne trailing behind him as he moved toward the door.
My cock had softened slightly while we were talking; and, moving away from the window and turning my back, I pressed it's semi-flaccid length against my balls with both hands and squeezed my asshole tight sucking in my abdomen as I breathed in deeply several times attempting to regain control of my senses.
"Jesus," I thought shaking my head gently as I freshened my coffee. "Unless I am badly mistaken, he is as gay as I and as horny as I am; and God knows that would not be a bad thing." I mused, moving back to the table with my fresh mug, and glancing out the window toward the furnace room as I sat down.
Every now and then as he was doing whatever it was that he was doing, he would pass the window; and, glancing in at me, he would half smile, half grin. Each time he looked I felt my cock growing harder and snaking down the right side of my inner thigh until the uncut crown peeped from under the hem of my shorts. An atomic bomb dropped on Moscow could have been headlined in the newspaper, and it wouldn't have interested me in the least. My mind was concentrating of what Brady would look like without his uniform on.
I was mentally trying to devise a way of finding out if he were as amicable as I hoped he would be, and my hand had unconsciously dropped over my throbbing cock while my mind conjured different versions of what it would be like. Was his body as hard muscled as it appeared to be, was he cut or uncut, and did he enjoy fucking being fucked or both? I could comfortably handle anything up to eight inches, and cut or uncut didn't make any difference.
"What the hell," I said softly. "Why not ask him outright and get it over with? We are both about the same size, and I don't think he'll try to beat the shit out of me.
I had settled on the blunt direct approach when, opening the door he stood in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob for a minute before stepping inside. It was a long enough delay to allow me to see an elongated impression snaking down the left side of his leg hidden by the David Taylor khakis he was wearing.
His matching shirt was soaked with the sweat that was running in rivulets from his brow. The tapered sandy hair was darker from the sweat but, I felt my courage melting away under the coolness of his hazel eyes and instead of broaching the subject of sex, I heard myself saying, "You look hot as hell, Brady; may I offer you a glass of ice water or a soft drink?"
"You're right," he said breathing in deeply, the sweat soaked shirt fabric stretching across his chest as his chest expanded, revealing thick breast muscles with twin nipples protruding against the cloth. "I am hot has hell," he said salaciously. "And, if you can show me where the emergency cut-off switch for the furnace is located, I believe I can get your air-conditioning back on line and then I'll take you up on the ice water."
"Cut-off switch, cut-off switch," I mumbled to myself while suggestively rubbing my hand over my chest and nipples. "I think it is located in the closet in the small bedroom," I said, suddenly pushing my chair back and standing without giving any thought to whether my cock was visible or not.
"And that would be where?" he said in a mocking tone, his hazel eyes gleaming as he blatantly ran his hand over his chest muscles and nipples.
"This way," I gasped, turning quickly away to avoid his seeing my reaction to his suggestive boldness.
Brady followed me into the smallest of my three bedrooms, and I went to the small closet. The closet was not really large enough for a person to move around in but there was enough room to show him were the switch was to the left of the doorjamb.
"It's right here, Brady; but if you turn the overhead light on, you can see it better," I said turning my head and almost kissing him.
"There is enough light," he said, covering my mouth with his as he slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me tightly against him. The musky masculine aroma of his sweat combined with the cologne that I had detected earlier was a heady, erotic aphrodisiac. Inhaling deeply, waves of passion and desire swept over me. For a brief moment, I thought he might be going to rape me but, the slow movement of his hand over my naked back, and the softness of his tongue sliding over my lips belied his being a rapist and any thought of resisting melted away. Moaning softly, I slipped my arms around his neck, and opened my lips allowing his tongue to grapple with mine.
His tongue felt like a steel epee dueling with mine, parrying and thrusting into the inner recesses of my mouth. His arm was a steel band encompassing my waist, holding me tightly to him his hard massive cock pressing into the softness of my pelvis. Fiery shocks of desire spread through my quivering arms and legs with the force of white-hot thunderbolts depriving my body of any resistance to his overpowering presence.
When he slowly retracted his tongue from between my lips, I moaned softly. He leaned his head back slightly, gazing at me and grinning softly, golden flecks of excitement flashing in the depths of his hazel eyes. Both of us were breathing heavily, sucking deep draughts of air into our lungs as we looked at one another. I was suddenly at a loss for words even after all that I had thought of while he was working outside. Brady broke the silence, breathing more normally as he smiled and said, "Would it surprise you if I said I wanted you when you opened the front door, and I saw you trying to hide you're hardon."
"Yes it would; and, since you've been here, I've been trying to think of a way to see if you were interested," I said, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
"I was very interested," he chuckled, leaning back and pressing his hard cock against mine as I worked my way down the row of buttons.
When I reached the last button before his belt, he pulled his arm from around my waist; and, crushing his pelvis against mine, he pinned me against the doorjamb while he pulled his shirt off.
"Christ," I gasped. "I was hoping you were built but, Jesus, Brady, you're built like fucking Atlas," I exclaimed, excitedly running my hands over the smooth hardness of his thick chest muscles and heavily muscled arms.
"Don't sell yourself short, Aaron; I've seen teenagers and young men that aren't built as well as you are," he said raking my chest and arms with his eyes. "Do you mind if I ask how old you are?"
"Noooo, I don't; but you first," I answered forestalling my answer.
"Twenty-seven," he answered, grinning impishly as he continued. "Now you."
His eyes glinted as he waited for my answer; and, inhaling deeply, I said, "Thirty-two."
"Thirty-two," he mumbled, massaging the nape of my neck with one hand as he slid his hand between us and gripped my burgeoning cock. "This feels like a teenager to me."
"There is only one way to find out," I said, feeling a little cockier.
"I was hoping you would say that," he growled as he released my cock, his lust filled eyes blazing with desire.
Sliding his hands between the waistband of my shorts and my hips, he knelt in front of me pulling my shorts down as he did. "Oh, God," I groaned when I felt my cock springing from my shorts and slap against my hard flat stomach. Every muscle in my body tensed when he slid the foreskin back revealing the slick swollen crimson head of my pre-cum dripping cock. My legs shook uncontrollably as Brady gently moved the foreskin back and forth blowing softly on the exposed head each time it slid from its protective sheath. My nuts were boiling when he started to knead them with the fingers of his free hand, and I felt fire surging upward in my pulsing cock. His relentless teasing had me so hot that I groaned, "Suck it Brady, please."
My muscles tensed in anticipation of the ecstasy that would follow his mouth engulfing my cock, but he suddenly stood up and said, "Man, I want to suck your cock but not this way, not standing in a closet. Is there enough room on the bed for you to lie down?"
"Sure," I said anxiously, kicking my shorts from around my ankles and pushing the piles of clothing onto the floor.
"Damn," he exclaimed glancing at his watch as I stretched out on the bed watching as he stripped naked. "I wish we had more time," he said softly as he sat on the edge of the bed, slowly stroking my cock.
"How much time do you have, Brady?" I said gasping at the size of his cock swinging gently over huge low-hangers. "You were scheduled to be here between eight and ten o'clock."
"Yeah, I know but I fibbed about starting early when I got here. Steve, the dispatcher, slipped in an emergency appointment at ten o'clock; and it's a re-visit to a very cranky old bitch over in Englewood, so I gotta be there on time or as close as I can make it," he said. "It's not going to take long to finish your job, but it's quarter past nine now, and that won't leave enough time to really enjoy sex with you and make that appointment on time."
The erotic atmosphere in the bedroom evaporated, and I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I couldn't really blame Brady; I was just as horny as he was and not thinking about anything except sex. I started to sit up when he pushed me back down. Angling his gorgeous body toward me and pulling one leg up on the bed, he put his hand on my cock and squeezing gently started to slowly stroke it to full erection. Looking down at me, he smiled softly; and placing my hand on his thick cock he whispered, "Will you be home later on tonight?"
My heart skipped a beat as visions of being in bed with him raced through my head. His gleaming eyes bore into mine as he waited for my reply. "If you're thinking what I hope you are thinking, Brady, I will be."
"I think you will like what I am thinking, Aaron," he replied, stroking my drooling cock and squeezing dollops of pre-cum from its blood-engorged head."
"Brady, if you keep it up, I'm going to cum," I groaned, sucking air between my clinched teeth and into my lungs as my hips involuntarily responded to the rhythm of his pumping hand.
"I know," he said, suddenly twisting around and lowering his mouth to my pre-cum slick cock.
"Oh, shit," I screamed bucking my hips upwards at the feeling of my cock swelling, the heat of hot sperm rising to fill his waiting mouth. "Brady, Brady," I moaned as he opened his quivering throat letting my cock sink deeper into its hot recesses, thick streams of cum gushing down his gullet.
His mouth and tongue worked the pulsing length of my cock as he withdrew to its blood-engorged head, greedily drinking the thick hot sperm as it gushed from my cock. Waves of intense excitement washed over me as volley after volley sperm erupted with volcanic force, and he kneaded my ball sac with his fingers, squeezing them gently coaxing the last drops of the elixir that slowly dribbled to an end.
"I wasn't expecting that, Brady," I whispered weakly as my cock slipped from his lips, and he laid his head on my stomach.
"I told you I wanted to suck your cock; but, as much as you didn't expect it, I didn't think you would shoot your load that quick," he said as he sat up on the side of the bed.
"Bu..., but what about you?" I asked reaching for his cock and feeling the stickiness.
"Pre-cum," he said answering my question as he stood up and started to dress. "Don't worry, Aaron, there is a lot more where that came from."
"It doesn't seem right, Brady. You sucked me off and it's not fair to you if you don't let me do something for you."
"Oh, you will, Aaron, you will unless you stand me up." He said, laughing softly. "This is Friday and I'm off this weekend."
"And," I asked excitedly, pulling my leg up and turning on my side, my still half hard cock oozing with the remnants of sperm.
"That, you will learn later," he said, glancing at his watch as he tightened his belt. "Right now, I gotta get to that next call."
"How much more do you have to do before your finished with mine?" I asked, sitting on the bed and leaning over to retrieve my shorts.
"Yours was finished before I came inside," he answered. "Can't you tell?"
He was right, the room was cooler and I hadn't noticed it.
"Then why did you want to know where the emergency switch was if you were finished?" I asked, sure of what his answer was without hearing it.
"You know why, don't you?" He said his eyes twinkling as he answered my question a little ambiguously. "I wasn't sure if you were going to make a move or not but, I wanted you so bad that, I decided the best way to see if we wanted the same thing was to get you where we both could find out and that was in the bedroom. I'm sorry for tricking you but, I knew where the switch was located and from the configuration of the furnace room, I figured it was in a small closet and closets are usually in bedrooms aren't they? You aren't mad are you?"
"No, I'm not mad, you beat me to the punch," I replied as I stood pulling my shorts up and tucking my cock inside. "I had decided to ask you up front when you came inside showing that massive cock of yours."
"It's not much bigger than yours is, Aaron, only eight inches but, mine is a little thicker," he said, grinning and chuckling as he grabbed my cock and squeezing hard growled, "no playing around until I get back."
"I'll be here, just make sure you are," I said, leaning in and kissing him gently.
"Christ, why can't this be Saturday?" he exclaimed as we broke the kiss and he turned toward the door.
I stood in the doorway watching as; Brady loaded his toolbox into his company truck. "Company truck," I thought to myself, quickly stepping out onto the porch and calling to Brady who had started to back out into the street. "What will you be driving?" I said, lowering my voice as he pulled back into the driveway.
"A dark blue, Isuzu," he answered grinning and licking his lips suggestively as he backed out of the driveway again.
"I'll be waiting and watching," I called after him,
Brady waved his arm out of the window as he drove down the street. I stood on the porch for a few minutes longer watching his truck turn the corner, and I was wondering if I would see him again.