"Unnnh," I grunted, throwing another shovelful of snow onto the pile beside my car. It had snowed steadily throughout the night, and my car was pretty well surrounded by about two feet of snow on all sides. When I moved into this apartment complex, it was because the agent promised that the snow maintenance guys were terrific about keeping the roads clear. I didn't realize that this just meant the roads, and not the parking lots and definitely not the cars parked overnight! Being from the south, I hadn't expected snow to be so heavy - I just thought that it was all powdery and light, like in the movies. I also didn't expect to break a sweat in freezing temperatures, but, after thirty minutes of heavier lifting than I had expected wearing thermal underwear beneath my clothes, I was beyond just being slightly damp.
The ironic thing was that, during the warmer weather, I was almost a fanatic about going to the gym. I lifted at least three times a week, and knew that, at 5'11", with short dirty blond hair, deep blue eyes, a "strong" face (as my mother always said), a strong chin, and a chiseled body, I commanded attention. But, over the holidays, and with the weather being colder, I had lost some of my definition and strength. I wasn't letting it turn to fat, I was just not exercising the way that my body had grown accustomed, and all of this work required more of an exertion than I had anticipated.
"How many more shovelfuls will it take to clear the car?" I wondered. "I didn't know that living around snow would be so little fun. I can't wait to get back inside, take a hot shower, warm up..."
I was so lost in thinking of getting back in that I didn't even notice the snow plow pull up beside me. "Hey, pal. You're going to be out here all day if you keep shoveling like that," the driver called down.
"What?" I responded.
The driver turned the truck off, opened the door and hopped down. He was a couple of inches taller than me, wearing a flannel shirt, knit cap, jeans, and work boots. His chin was covered with dark stubble, and his hair was a very dark brown that matched his eyes. By my estimation, he was a couple of years younger than me - maybe 20 or 21 to my 23. "If you don't bend and scoop, you're going to be here all day. Where'd you learn to shovel like that, just skimming the top?"
"I'm not from here," I replied, laying on the Southern drawl as best as I could. "This is the first snow storm that I've ever had to deal with. Want to show me how it's done?"
"Sure. Watch here." The driver spread his legs slightly, dug his shovel into the snow, and crouched down in order to pick up a much heavier shovel than I had managed all day. My eyes quickly traveled down to see his firm ass, cupped in the tight jeans, and as he straightened back up, I sneaked a peak at the glimpse of the skin of the small of his back. That never failed to turn me on, seeing a flash of skin when least expected, and I got distracted...
"Hey, I've been plowing for the past six hours. I'll make you a deal - I'll dig out your car if I can use your bathroom when I'm done. My place is twenty minutes cross town and I broke my leg the last time I tried to piss outside when I slipped on the ice."
"Sure. No problem. Fair trade to me!"
Ten minutes later, we were both inside my apartment. "Nice place you got here. How much do you pay a month? I'm looking to get a place of my own."
"It's not bad. I'm paying $750 for a two bedroom apartment and it's very private and quiet. No one to bother me, no loud neighbors... I'm very happy here."
"So, where's your bathroom, if you don't mind?"
"Oh, sure. Down the hall on the right, second door. And the door sometimes sticks a little. Just so you know. Want anything to drink?"
The driver walked down the hall, walked into the bathroom and half closed the door. I heard the sound of the light switch, of his zipper open, and of a long, loud, satisfying piss. It must have gone on for two full minutes; I couldn't believe that his bladder could hold all of that! After the flush, he washed his hands (something that I always appreciate) and then he walked back out.
"A glass of water would be great. Just not too much. I don't know if I can keep punishing my bladder like that." He laughed as I handed him a glass half filled with water, and kept laughing, his eyes watching me as he drained the glass.
"That was good. I'm still thirsty, but I don't feel like more water."
"Well, I have juice, or soda, or beer, if you want," I responded, confused.
"That wasn't exactly what I have in mind," he said, moving closer to me. "And, if I'm right, that's not what you feel like, either." He pinned my arms behind me, stepping in for a kiss on the lips. When I didn't struggle against his advances, he pushed further into me, grinding his crotch into mine. I could feel that he was getting hard, and so was I. Slowly, I raised my hands to start to unbutton his shirt - he grabbed them and held them up behind my head, pinning my arms behind me.
"This is going to be fun," he said, with a wink. "I gotta get back on routine, but will you wait here for me till 4 o'clock?"
This is a true story - what do you think happened next? Let me know - rolandgardens@yahoo.com.