In May, the owner of our construction company informed us that his son was home from college and wou

In May, the owner of our construction company informed us that his son was home from college and would be interning with us for the summer. Internally, we all groaned. Every single person here knew his son - Wilbur - and what sort of name is Wilbur? the poor bastard - got into Harvard Business school. His father never shut up about him. We expected a mini clone of his dad, someone snotty and pompous, with a greater-than-thou attitude. Well, I won’t lie - he was goddamn hot, if not completely gorgeous, but I wasn’t quick to befriend him. Most beautiful creatures are poisonous, anyhow. His tussled blond hair, Ralph Lauren shirts, loafers, and cocky, confident poses oozed “superiority complex” the second I saw him. I didn’t stick my neck out, yet because I had to fetch one box of nails at one exact moment in time, I somehow ended up catching the eye of the boss. And that’s how I ended up being Wilbur’s chauffeur. Every construction crew has runners, people that move supplies from one site to another, but I was past that. I was on-site now! I was rather irritated that I had to schlep him from site to site at his father’s whim. So, I decided to make Wilbur uncomfortable and flirt with him as hard as possible. I adjusted myself frequently, and made off-handed comments about the bodies of the crew. I poured water over my head. I walked around shirtless and sweaty. I started saying things like, “Eh, we’ll I’d fuck him,” when watching pedestrians at red lights. I hadn’t expected little Wilbur to start flirting back. It started with that last thing. Wilbur replied, “Mm, too tall.” What did that mean? It left me a bit shaken, because I felt that I’d just accidentally started a bit of a war. Wilbur started unbuttoning his shirt when we were on drives. He really liked the convertible my dad left me, and would pet it in what, I swear, were obtusely sensual ways. Once on a drive out to a home in the country, he asked me to pull over so he could pee into the woods; while doing so, he gave me a clear view of his cock. It was lily white and plenty long. Time to up the game. On a particularly warm day, we were stuck in traffic cause of construction, funny enough. I shifted in my seat and unzipped my jeans, tugging the denim open. I wasn’t wearing underwear. “Hope you don’t mind, it’s so fucking hot my balls are frying.” Goddamn Wilbur though, they must have taught him some crafty shit at Harvard because he instantly replied, “Well why not take them out all the way?” I was flabbergasted. Not wanting to appear too shocked, I did a casual shrug and hefted myself out of jeans. It felt wonderful to get some breeze on my skin. As traffic crawled along, Wilbur got bold. He put his hand on my thigh and rubbed it. I swallowed, not wanting to a say a word. I felt if I opened my mouth, I would lose whatever stupid game I decided we were playing. Worse, he was making me hard - really hard, the way he was just constantly caressing me along the crease where my leg met my hip. We were in a convertible, not outside the city yet, and anyone in a tall vehicle could have seen it. The light turned green. I saw an opening and shot through it, making a detour through a neighborhood. Wilbur kept his hand on my thigh the entire time. When city began to dissolve into rural properties, Wilbur asked, “Can I touch you?”“Yeah,” I said, trying so damn hard to appear cool and you know, not crash the car. He was hesitant at first, he just simply wrapped his fingers around my shaft, but once he liked what he felt, he began to stroke while twisting his wrist. Wilbur had incredibly soft hands. Jesus, this kid. “Unzip,” I commanded him. He did. I reached over and took his long prick in my hand and teased his glans until he was groaning in the seat next to me. I eventually had to pull over because I kept drifting into the other lane. We pulled over onto a wide shoulder and put the car in idle. Our heads were thrown back against the headrests as our hands pumped each other. I could hear song birds in the trees, feel the warm sun on my face. The breeze gave me goosebumps when it swept across my wet cock. It felt so fucking good. I don’t know if it was winning or losing, but I shot first. I just grunted and set my jaw as I shot all over my jeans. I watched Wilbur as he made these girly little whimpers and came all over his starched white shirt. He was wiggling his hips and thrusting into my hand. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Once the sensitivity set in and we milked ourselves dry, I dug the wet wipes out of the glove box and we set up on cleaning ourselves up without a word. Eventually I managed to say something. “Does your daddy know you’re queer?”“No,” Wilbur said, “And he won’t. Now drive, we’re already going to be late.”“You have a beautiful prick. Just…so you know.” I said, blushing a little.“I hope you’ll get to see it again,” he drawled. I did too. I nodded, signaled, and pulled the car back onto the road. Wilbur and I made the rest of the drive in silence. When we got to the construction site, he acted like he barely knew me. Nonetheless, we had many more interesting car rides together that summer. By autumn, I was sad to see the little ponce go. I hoped next summer, I could taste him…maybe slide my fingers down the back of his jeans. Turns out, I didn’t have to wait that long. Wilbur came home for Christmas. With the roof up on my convertible and my knowledge of private spots to park, we got away with so much more than handjobs. ____________________________Text is fictional. Source unknown. -- source link

More pics about