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This story involves consensual sex between two men and unknown voyeurism. If you don't want to read about behavior of this type, look elsewhere. If you shouldn't read this for legal reasons or because you are deemed too young, go away.
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Watching the Gardener
I looked out the window over my desk at Jose in the yard. It was an unseasonably hot day for early May in New England, creeping up past 90°. Jose had shed his shirt and was just in a very short pair of cut-offs. Obviously, he usually wore a uniform: a tee shirt and canvas or khaki shorts. But it was hot, and he was alone on the job; his summer workers were all still in school.
Jose was 24. I had known him forever. When I was younger, I spent as much of my summer as possible with my grandparents. He was always on the periphery as the neighbor's kid. We had occasionally played together, but our five-year age difference was just big enough that we weren't really ever friends. By the time he was old enough to hang out, I wasn't coming around as much because my summers were busy. And when I moved in, he had been away at college.
When he was in middle school, he started to mow lawns. My grandparents, his neighbors, had been his first customers. When they had moved to a retirement home a few years ago and sold me the house, I continued the arrangement. Slowly, every summer during high school and college, Jose had built up a business caring for yards all around town. I call him a kid, but he was only five years younger than I am. Jose's parents had come to the US from Mexico to study and never left. His father was a local judge, and his mother was the doctor in town. There was a certain irony that the son of two scions of small town society ended up tending gardens. However, after graduation from college, Jose came home and started a full-time landscaping business. He even employed a couple of local high school kids for the summer. However, even after starting the company, he always took care of my lot personally.
I had returned early from a work trip late last night. My car was in the shop; the shop owner was a friend who lived down the street, so he was delivering it to me tonight. I guessed Jose thought I was still away. I suppose that, combined with the private nature of my home on a spit of land in the lake, was why he had the shift in attire, but I wasn't complaining. There was no one to see him except from a boat, and, midmorning on a Thursday in May, there weren't going to be too many boats, no matter how nice the weather.
Jose had strong legs from years of playing soccer and, in college, rugby. The short cut-offs emphasized the taper of his quad and the bulge of his hamstring. He didn't have the sculpted muscles of a gym bunny but rather the taut waist and square pecs of physical labor and a youthful metabolism. He had a bit of a farmer tan, muted to ombre by the recent history of winter's darkness. Today's uniform choice would help him to even out the tone on his skin. He had dark, thick hair that, when bleached by the sun, took on a deep red undertone. Although I couldn't see him well from here, I knew he had a very handsome face, strong eyebrows, deep brown eyes, a Roman nose with a cute flared tip, and soft lips.
I had a strange dichotomy about Jose in my head. I knew him as a little kid, sweet to my Grandies, always laughing and flocking about. But now he was the hunky business owner who took care of my property personally. He was personable, and I always enjoyed our brief interactions. He wasn't hard on the eyes either.
I thought about telling him that I was home, but I was enjoying the view. I felt a bit creepy looking at him unknowingly, but he was the one making assumptions and wearing almost nothing on my lawn. I also didn't really know what I would say if I went out to talk to him at this point. "Oh, hey... your cut-offs show off your ass well." "Thanks for raking. Your legs look excellent." Or to channel my Grandmother, "Nice gams." I figured it was better to just stay concealed.
I tried to work. It was Thursday morning, and in theory, I should be working. However, I had no meetings on the books, and as long as I got everything done, I didn't really need to be working on things right now. The view was far too distracting. So, I went to grab another cup of coffee.
As I came back into my office, warm mug in my hands, I noticed my boat pulling up to my dock. The dock had been put in over the weekend, so the guys who stored my boat for the winter were now able to deliver it. A young man jumped out of the boat. Harry, the guy who owned the boat storage facility, must have hired him to do the deliveries this year. Harry had been running the business for over 40 years; it was time for a young set of legs to jump out of the boats onto the docks.
I vaguely remembered him saying something about a Mac dropping my boat off. So, I assumed that this was the Mac he mentioned. From a distance, the guy looked pretty fit. He was in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with the marina logo on the chest. Even from this distance, I could see how the worn denim of his jeans clung to his ass.
As he finished tying up the boat, I noticed Jose catching sight of the boat delivery guy. When the boat had pulled up he had gone to grab his uniform shirt, but now that he had a chance to see the guy, he chose to tuck it into his waistband like a flag for football. Interesting. I wondered what changed his actions.
When Mac noticed Jose standing there, he stiffened and looked around. I could see Jose's smile in his body language. He turned and liquidly stalked to the hose on the shed. It was between the dock and driveway. Mac could not get picked up without walking quite close to Jose. Mac saw it too. He looked around and shook his head gently. I could see him sigh and steel himself for the interaction. He looked nervous but not scared. He walked across the lawn -- directly toward Jose. Although his course was direct, his head was on a swivel, continually checking to see if anyone else was around.
Jose turned on the hose. He got a drink from it. It looked like a bad remake of an eighties movie. When the water splashed on his bare chest, he yelped loudly enough that I could hear him inside. The two men laughed. It broke the tension between them. Jose approached Mac. He moved close, very close. Mac stiffened again. Jose said something to him as he placed a hand softly on his chest.
It was like watching a silent movie. Obviously, the two men knew each other. Jose's actions displayed familiarity and desire. Mac, on the other hand, looked both excited and petrified. He tensed at Jose's touch and then softened. Mac glanced up toward the house. While I knew he couldn't see through the windows with the reflection of the sun, it felt like he looked directly at me. There was more conversation. Jose seemed to be reassuring him that they were alone. Mac reached out a hand and lightly placed a finger on Jose's hip, where the waistband exposed the pale skin of his torso. The men were slowly moving together.
Suddenly, they both jumped and stepped apart like kids caught by a knock at the door. Mac pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He answered a call. The conversation seemed fairly one sided. He nodded. I could tell that Jose could hear enough of the conversation to follow what was happening. While Mac was still on the phone, Jose stepped close to him again. This time placing his hand on Mac's hip. As Mac tried to finish the conversation, Jose started pushing him to a more secluded spot. While Jose had a great understanding of how to get out of view of the lake and the road, he didn't consider my office window. He moved them into a spot almost perfectly framed by two ancient pines. While no one else could see them, I had a view through a stunning natural proscenium arch.
As Mac finished his phone call, I was able to get a better view of his face. He had sandy blonde hair sticking out from beneath a faded blue trucker cap, pushed up high on his forehead. He had a beard and pale skin, flushed tan and pink in the heat. He slid the phone into his pocket and smirked at Jose. He said something, and Jose reached out, placing both hands on Mac's hips. Mac brought a hand up, brushing his thumb along Jose's jawline. Then he slid his hand up to the top of Jose's head and pushed him down to his knees.
While Jose arranged himself before him, Mac unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them, along with his plaid boxers, down around his ankles. He wasn't fully hard yet, but his cock definitely was standing out from his hips. Jose reached out and gently kissed the tip of the penis dangling before his face. As he leaned back, I watched Mac's cock grow to point directly at Jose's mouth. I knew they didn't know I was there, but they couldn't have staged a better view if they had. Mac was three-fourths turned to me. I had a nice view of Jose's back and beautiful denim clad ass. I knew from lingering glances watching him walk away from my door that he had a particularly glorious pair of mounds.
I could see just the edge of Jose's face as he opened his jaw and slid his head closer to Mac's hips. Mac's head dropped back, and his hands twined into Jose's hair. Although I couldn't hear anything, I saw him groan with pleasure. It seemed that Jose was quite skilled with his mouth. He had taken Mac's cock, which I guessed to be north of average, without any trouble. I also guessed that unless Jose was a Cassanova of absolutely epic proportions, this was not the first time he had swallowed Mac's cock.
Jose rapidly went to work on Mac. This was not a love making session, but two horny men in the right place at the right time. But after blowing Mac for a bit, Jose pulled back and looked up at Mac. I could tell that there was a bit of a conversation happening. I also got a better look at Mac. My estimation was likely correct; it seemed his cock was probably about 7 inches. It was chalky white like the pale skin of his hips, with a pink bulb at the end. His thighs were on the skinny side, not ignored in the gym, but just naturally thin.
Jose stood and gestured over to one of the lounge chairs on the back patio. These were even better hidden from the road and the lake behind the privacy of a hedge row. While they didn't afford much of a view, they did allow me to maintain a tan free of any lines. And, as an added benefit at the moment, they were even closer to the house.
Mac pulled his pants up around his hips and, gripping the waistband, scuttled across the little bit of lawn over the secluded spot. He pulled out his cell phone to check the time. He glanced around again to make sure they were alone. I felt a bit bad about letting them think they had complete privacy, but this was hot, and it would have been rather uncomfortable for all of us if I had said anything at this point. Mac was now close enough that I could get a look at his face. He had a well-kempt dark blonde beard to match his hair. His features were soft and handsome. As he glanced around, I thought I could see bright blue eyes. He was just far enough away that I couldn't quite make out the details. He was sexy in a backwoods New England hick-ish way. I realized I could move downstairs to a window quite close to the action. But that felt more like a violation than watching from a place I happened to be in when this started. I may have been rationalizing something that was a bit sketchy, but I wasn't about to not watch two hot guys have sex on my property.
Meanwhile, Jose had headed into the shed for a moment. I looked over as he exited with something in his hand. He had left his short cutoffs behind and proudly strode across my lawn in his full glory. And glory it was. His hips were also pale but had an undertone of gold that shone in the bright May sun. His cock was massive, framed by a well-trimmed dark patch. It seemed that the gardener didn't just trim the hedges.
He approached Mac and pushed Mac's jeans and boxers down -- this time around his ankles. As Mac's erection was once again exposed, I could see that Jose must have had several inches in length on Mac's already impressive penis. It was hard to believe that Jose had managed to keep that monster in the tight shorts he had on earlier. Jose leaned in and whispered something in Mac's ear. Mac smiled, and his cock bounced in response. These guys definitely had a history.
Jose knelt on the lounge chair, tilting his white ass up. Mac awkwardly waddled, ankles bound in denim and plaid cotton, closer. He leaned in and sniffed Jose's ass. He must have been seriously funky from sweating in the yard, but Mac didn't hesitate. He put both hands on Jose's cheeks and spread them wide. He dove his face into the chasm between those two pale globes and went to town. Jose moaned loud enough for me to hear. Obviously, Mac had some practice. It had been a while since I had had a bearded man eat my ass, and I bet those whiskers felt pretty good.
At this point, I was raging hard in my slacks. I didn't need to, but I generally still dressed business casual to work from home. I had done the PJ thing the first few weeks of the pandemic, but dress helped me to differentiate my company's time from my personal time. I undid my belt and pulled my pants off completely. I tried to unbutton my shirt with my right hand as I wrapped my left around my erection. It looked like Mac, and I were about the same size, and something about that realization made this voyeuristic moment even hotter. Finally undressed, I could settle into a chair by the window to watch the scene before me.
Soon, Jose flipped himself over. He took the bottle and squeezed something into his hand. He reached out and started to stroke Mac's cock, coating him in some type of a lubricant. As Jose lightly masturbated Mac, spreading the lube along the length of the erection in his hand, Mac swiped a finger in the lube and somewhat awkwardly bent down and moved his hand down between Jose's legs. I couldn't quite see what Mac was doing, but Jose released Mac's dick and grabbed his knees, pulling them up toward his chest. Mac's arm started shifting back and forth, clearly working his hand to prepare Jose's hole.
Soon, Mac shifted and positioned himself at the end of the lounge chair. He grabbed Jose's hips and slid him into a better position. Now that Mac had moved, I had a much clearer view. Again, they generously, unintentionally positioned themselves at a three-quarter view. I briefly had a view of the lightly furred crack splitting the creamy, smooth globes of Jose's ass. I thought I could make out the pink fleshed ring wrinkled around a tight pinprick of black, leading into Jose's inner sanctum. Mac shifted and placed his helmet into Jose's trench. I rubbed a thumb over the engorged head of my cock, imagining the hairs of Jose's ass caressing it. Mac slowly began to push forward into Jose; I squeezed my thumb and pointer finger together to create a tiny hole to stretch over my cockhead, matching my hand to his movements.
Mac's ass was stark white below the royal blue tee shirt hem. For how skinny his legs were, I was impressed by the plumpness of his cheeks, muscular but covered with the only bit of baby fat left on his body. It looked from a distance as if the light brown leg hair climbed up and coated the two pale mounds. Since this obviously wasn't his first time with a man, maybe Jose, or another guy, had been lucky enough to have a chance to play with that beautiful set of buns. Or perhaps this was more of a one way situationship.
As Mac pushed in, his hips blocked my view of his cock entering Jose's ring. He stopped for a moment -- I assumed to allow Jose to adjust to having a cock inside of him. But soon, with a slow, steady drive of his hips, Mac worked his cock fully into Jose. When his hips rested against Jose's, he paused and leaned forward over him. Jose reached up and pulled their heads together. I thought they were going to kiss, but he just rested their foreheads together. I wondered what it would be like to taste Jose's soft lips and breath.
The two of them held that tender pose for a moment before Jose started to grind his ass up into Mac's pelvis. He shifted and whispered something into Mac's ear. Mac responded with a quick jab of his hips, half withdrawing and swiftly thrusting back into Jose's hole. Jose threw his head back, mouth agape, both with surprise and pleasure. Mac ground his hips hard, trying to push every last millimeter of his cock deep into Jose's warmth, and then he began to slip in and out of the beautiful ass beneath him. He started slowly but quickly picked up the pace. This was not about romance. This was a fuck, pure and lustful. The only goal in this moment was release. I watched his large glutes flexing and bouncing with each movement of his hips, his tee shirt dampening with sweat and slowly riding up to show a small half moon of hair at the base of his spine. As I slowly masturbated, watching the free, live porn in my yard, I slipped my free hand down between my legs and lightly brushed my puckering hole. While I generally was a top when I was with a partner, watching Mac work over Jose's ass made me wonder what it would feel like to be in Jose's position. I decided I probably would throw my legs up for the scruffy young boat handler almost as quickly as I would plow into my gardener's grassless knolls.
Soon, Mac's cadence started to shift, rather than a regular rhythm, his hips jerked and bucked. He shoved in fully, pressing hard into Jose. He arched, his ass clenching and spasming. He threw his head back, panting. Jose squirmed beneath him as Mac obviously orgasmed deep within Jose's guts. Mac collapsed onto Jose. His sweat soaked tee shirt was plastered to his heaving back, pale moon quivering with his heavy breathing.
Suddenly, Mac leapt back to his feet, reaching down to his jeans around his ankles. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket while trying to pull up his pants. He didn't grab his boxers in his rush and struggled to remain standing as he tangled himself up. Jose lay back on the lounge chair, laughing at the situation, his huge erection bouncing over his stomach with each chortle. Mac pinned the phone against his ear with his shoulder while he finally got his underwear and pants over his rapidly deflating cock. I could see him talking on the phone as he rearranged himself to look as close to presentable as he could one minute after an orgasm. He was drenched in sweat. He shut off his phone and shrugged at Jose. As he walked by, he reached out and squeezed Jose's arching cock and said something to him. Jose smiled and nodded. Mac leaned over and kissed Jose on the forehead. He took a deep breath to compose himself and headed around the house toward my driveway. I wondered what he would tell Harry when he got into his truck, bedraggled in sweat.
Jose twisted to watch his friend? -- paramore? -- fuck buddy? -- walk away. He rotated back onto his back, his cock relaxed slightly, still pointing up at his chin but now lying flat across his flat stomach. Without looking around, he wrapped a hand around his shaft and started to slowly stroke himself back to full hardness. As I watched, I unconsciously found myself matching his tempo with my own stroking. As he sped up, so did I. I watched his other hand caress his stomach, finding itself at his nipple. I matched his actions. While my nipples weren't usually a particularly erogenous zone for me, the mental stimulation of pairing with Jose's movements made this jack off session much more pleasurable.
He slowly began to pick up the pace of his hand on his shaft. I continued to match his actions. I watched his legs tense and his hand move faster up and down his length. Suddenly, he stretched out fully, legs locked and toes pointed. I could see him shake, and cum erupted onto his chest. As his first volley spat out of his cock, I felt my orgasm build. My focus centered on my groin and my mental image of Jose climaxing. Soon, I, too, was cumming, spurts of white erupting from the slit in my engorged pink cockhead. When l was able to bring my attention back to Jose, I saw him licking his fingers. He scooped down across his pecs, sweeping up any gobs on him and bringing them to his mouth. I continued to copy him in my clean-up, sucking my silky ooze off of my hand and using my fingers to clean up my lower torso. I wondered how Jose's cum tasted as I finished cleaning myself. Was his essence grassy to fit his profession or perhaps sweet from a diet heavy on fruit?
Jose lay back for a moment to catch his breath. I took in his smooth pale body, with a shock of black swaddling the base of his deflating cock. It was beautiful. It was hard to believe that he was just sprawled on my chair, completely bare. I just tried to take a mental picture of the scene to store for future enjoyment.
After several minutes of stillness, Jose sat up, lazily rubbing his pecs. He looked around the property with the eye of someone who knew what to look for to improve it. He stood and wandered back to the shed. His return journey didn't have the same swaggering urgency of his strut toward the house and Mac, but he walked without shame naked across my lawn, confident in his privacy, and unworried if anyone -- other than his parents -- were to see a nude figure on my yard they would know it was him. I watched his perfect buns jiggle as he approached the shed. I couldn't help but wish that this was a more regular occurrence.
I wondered how I could approach him. I felt that my voyeurism needed to be kept secret, but being queer in a small town, this was an opportunity for at least a fuck buddy and maybe something more. As Jose came out of the shed, once more clad in his tiny shorts, tee shirt hanging from the waistband, I turned back to my computer to try to focus on the work I should be doing.