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The Builder

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
2 weeks ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 1: “The Quote”

The knock at the door came just as the kettle started to whistle. I padded over in socks, shirtless in joggers that hung a little low after a lazy morning. I wasn’t expecting anyone until noon.

He stood there like a walking stereotype—tanned forearms dusted with sawdust, a tool belt slung around his hips like it was sculpted to them. Broad shoulders stretched a plain grey T-shirt, and under his scruffy beard was a grin that said he’d noticed the state I was in. His accent was pure London—rough, playful, and completely disarming.

“You’re early,” I said, leaning on the doorframe a little too casually.

He shrugged, eyes flicking once down my chest before returning to my face. “Could say the same about you, mate. Didn’t realise this job came with a show.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realise builders flirted during work hours.”

He stepped inside without asking, brushing past me just close enough for his tool belt to nudge my hip. “Depends on the client,” he said, grinning. “You got plans for this extension, or are you just looking to get me round in the mornings?”

I closed the door behind him, amused. “Bit of both. Thought I’d get a quote... see what you can handle.”

He turned, face far too close now in the narrow hallway. “Trust me, I can handle a lot. Been doing this a long time. Big jobs, small jobs...” He winked. “Messy ones too.”

My lips twitched. “You always this forward?”

“Only when I think the client can take it.” He looked me over again, more deliberate this time. “Looks like you can.”

We ended up in the kitchen, him pulling out a tape measure and ducking down to size up the wall—offering a view that had me biting my lip. His shirt rose with every crouch, flashing a trail of hair leading below his waistband. Every time he moved, he filled the space with the scent of sweat, sawdust, and something unmistakably masculine.

“So,” he said, standing and closing the tape with a snap. “We’re talking a proper extension, yeah? Knock through here, maybe open it up a bit... give you more room to stretch out.”

“Sounds good,” I said, stepping in closer. “Can you start right away?”

His eyes locked with mine. “You want me on site that quick?”

I didn’t step back. “Think you can handle a fast job?”

He grinned, that same cheeky glint in his eyes. “Mate, when I commit to a job, I don’t leave till it’s done. Proper finish. Clean up after meself too.”

I laughed, the tension thick enough now to cut with a trowel. “Guess I’d better get your number, then.”

He reached into his back pocket, handed me a card. His fingers brushed mine—intentional, slow.

“It’s all on there. You ever need something built, touched up, or... looked at?” His voice dipped lower. “You just call, Andy.”

He left with a wink, the door closing behind him with a heavy finality. The room still smelled like him.

And I already knew I’d be calling.

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By *hisMeMan
2 weeks ago

Forfar, Angus

'a walking stereotype'

An excellent start, as always Paul.

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By *ornysuckerMan
2 weeks ago

Portsmouth

Mmm nice I’m going to enjoy this

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By *ndy300Man
2 weeks ago

houston

This is going to be great

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
2 weeks ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 2: “Foundations”

He came back the next morning.

Didn’t text. Didn’t call. Just showed up in the same work boots, jeans a little dirtier, beard a little more grown in. And that same grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Forgot to check the joists yesterday,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like he owned it.

“Right,” I said, crossing my arms. “Joists. That what we’re calling it now?”

He stepped inside without waiting, brushing against me again—but slower this time. “Well,” he said, eyes dragging down my torso, “unless you’ve got a better name for it.”

I followed him into the kitchen, where he dropped to his knees to check under the floorboards. The sound of tools clinking in his belt, the flex of muscle under his shirt—it was all intentional. He knew I was watching.

“You always work on your knees?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked over his shoulder, smirking. “Only when I’m getting a proper feel for the structure.”

I scoffed, half laughing, half struggling to stand still. “You’re terrible.”

“Yeah?” He turned around, crouching low, forearms resting on his thighs. “Terrible, but thorough. I don't stop 'til I'm deep enough to know exactly what I’m working with.”

There was a charged silence between us. I could hear my own breathing.

He stood slowly, deliberately, until he was just a step away from me again. The kind of closeness where one wrong—or right—move would change everything.

“I should probably take some more measurements,” he said, voice low, hand brushing the inside of his tape measure but not pulling it out just yet.

“Go ahead,” I murmured, not moving.

His gaze dropped to my mouth for a fraction of a second. “Not sure where to start. You’ve got a lot that needs... extending.”

I didn’t blink. “Thought you said you were good with big jobs.”

“Oh, I am,” he said, finally stepping past me, but his hand dragged lightly across my lower back as he passed. “But I prefer jobs with a bit of personality. Something I can really sink my hands into.”

There was heat curling low in my gut now, the kind that made the air feel thick. I turned to face him.

“You always this hands-on?”

He looked back over his shoulder, giving me the full weight of that smirk. “Only when I know it’s wanted.”

We held the look too long—seconds that stretched, deepened, pulled.

“Go on, then,” I said, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “Show me how you work.”

He moved toward me again. Close. Closer. Until we were chest to chest and his breath warmed the skin just beneath my jaw. His hand reached for my waistband—only to pull out a pencil from his belt and tuck it behind his ear, grinning like the devil.

“First rule of building,” he said, stepping back. “Always take your time with the foundation.”

And with that, he turned back to the wall—leaving me standing there, heart pounding, jaw tight, cock growing, already hungry for the next crack in his restraint.

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
2 weeks ago

Glasgow

Great to have another story from you Paul!

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By *imworkMan
2 weeks ago

Kettering

My God, the build up is so exciting. I'm almost panting

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By *500Man
2 weeks ago

London

Fantastic

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By *orfyMan
2 weeks ago

Aylsham

Loving this!

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By *itom87Man
2 weeks ago

Wigan

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By *att_24Man
2 weeks ago

Aberdeen

Anymore to this story ?

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By *tmguylookingMan
2 weeks ago

Chezzie

Already hooked on this one

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
2 weeks ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 3: “Break Point”

The room had gone quiet—too quiet.

He was standing at the far wall, pretending to inspect the frame of a window, but neither of us were buying it anymore. His shoulders were tense, like he was holding something back. My pulse hadn’t slowed since he walked through the door.

I leaned against the kitchen island, watching him. Waiting. Letting the weight of the silence do the work.

He turned.

“I should go,” he said, voice low.

“You don’t want to.”

He didn’t answer—just watched me with that same reckless glint in his eye, like a man toeing the edge of something dangerous.

I took a step toward him.

He didn’t move.

“Say the word,” I said quietly, “and I won’t stop.”

He blinked once, hard, jaw tight. Then:

“Don’t stop.”

It was like a match to dry timber.

I crossed the room in three strides. Hands collided—his were calloused, strong, grabbing at my shirt like he’d been dying to. My back hit the wall with a thud, and he was on me—mouth hot, hungry, rough, tongues jousting. No teasing now. No more cheeky remarks.

His hands roamed, confident and greedy, like he’d been memorising me since the moment I opened the door yesterday. One hand pinned my wrist above my head, the other on my waist, pulling me in like he couldn’t get close enough.

“You’re trouble,” he growled against my neck, lips brushing skin between hot breaths. “Been thinking about this since I walked in.”

“Then shut up and take it,” I whispered, biting his earlobe.

He let out a rough laugh—low, guttural. “Cheeky.”

We stumbled toward the workbench, knocking a tape measure to the floor. Neither of us noticed. His hands were under my shirt now, sliding up my spine. Skin met skin and everything sharpened—faster, messier, deeper.

There was nothing slow about it now.

He kissed like he built—solid, confident, hands knowing exactly where to press, where to hold. And I gave as good as I got, fingers hooked in his belt, pulling him against me until there wasn’t space left to fill.

The room was heat and breath and sound—our bodies grinding against each other, I could feel his hard cock rubbing against mine.

“Still want that quote?” he rasped, forehead against mine.

“Give me the full breakdown,” I panted, dragging him back in.

And he did.

Again. And again.

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By *ature boyMan
2 weeks ago

Erdington

Mmmm great tension..more please

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By *tmguylookingMan
2 weeks ago

Chezzie

Think I need an extension

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By *ich65Man
2 weeks ago

Chorley

Oh wow, this is already cranking up to be another fantastic story 🙂😈

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
2 weeks ago

Glasgow

Wonderful!

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By *otwillyMan
2 weeks ago

Scunthorpe

Great

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By *addy1Man
2 weeks ago

Kilmarnock

I go to quotes with a pair of work trousers with a big tear around my cock area..usually pops out lol

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
2 weeks ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 4: “Second Fix”

Time blurred.

Somewhere in the mess of tangled limbs, I think his tool belt hit the floor. A metallic thud echoed off the walls, but neither of us even looked down. His shirt was halfway off—one arm still tangled in the sleeve—and I didn’t wait to help. I shoved it the rest of the way, dragging my nails down his chest, through the dust and sweat.

He growled. Actually growled.

“You’ve been winding me up since I got here,” he said, voice rough and breathless. “Walking around in joggers like that. No underwear. Who does that?”

“Apparently it works,” I murmured, biting at the base of his neck.

He hissed through his teeth. “You’ve got no idea.”

His hands found my waist, lifting me up onto the workbench with a single motion—like I weighed nothing. He stepped between my legs, grinding in close, his hard cock against mine. and we were skin to skin now, heat and tension and barely-restrained urgency.

“No more teasing,” I said, grabbing his jaw, forcing his eyes to meet mine.

He smirked, lips swollen, beard rough under my thumb. “You want it straight?”

“Always.”

He shoved everything off the bench—tape measure, pencil, a set of floor plans—sent flying. One loud crash. Neither of us cared.

Then he grabbed my thighs and pulled me forward until I was flush against him again. My legs hooked over his hips, resting against his taught buttocks.

“You’re getting the builder’s special,” he muttered into my skin. “No breaks. No shortcuts. And I don’t stop until the job’s perfect.”

“Hope you brought extra tools,” I breathed.

“Oh, I did,” he grinned, reaching behind him and pulling a small packet from his back pocket—one he’d clearly brought on purpose.

I blinked at him, breath catching. “You came prepared?”

He leaned in, lips grazing mine. “Mate… I knew the minute you opened that door yesterday, this job was getting… intensive.”

And then there were no more words.

Just hands. Mouths. Low groans. The slap of skin, the scrape of stubble, the creak of timber under shifting weight. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was built on days of looks, remarks, want. A fucking that didn’t want polite.

We broke the silence with every movement.

Every moan was answered. Every pull got a push. And when he finally came and collapsed next to me, chest heaving, his hand found mine—warm, rough, sure—and squeezed it once.

“No extra charge,” he murmured.

“Good,” I said, smirking. “Because I’m keeping you on retainer.”

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By *402JJMan
2 weeks ago

N. Yorkshire

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By *uttguydfsMan
2 weeks ago

Dumfries

Great story

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By *eemebabyMan
2 weeks ago

Dudley

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By *tmguylookingMan
2 weeks ago

Chezzie

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By *ature boyMan
2 weeks ago

Erdington

Mmm give him your best jobs wotth

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
2 weeks ago

Glasgow

Great!

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By *otwillyMan
2 weeks ago

Scunthorpe

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
2 weeks ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

“Cooling Down”

The room smelled like sweat, timber, and something primal.

Sunlight spilled through the half-covered window, slicing golden lines across the chaos we’d made—clothes half-hanging off chairs, his pencil still on the floor, a streak of sawdust on my arm I had no intention of brushing off.

He was lying beside me on the floorboards now, one arm folded behind his head, the other lazily tracing circles on my chest with a dusty thumb.

“You’re a menace,” he said, breath still heavy. “I came here to give a quote, not… whatever that was.”

I turned my head, catching his smirk. “Call it a hands-on consultation.”

He huffed a laugh. “You realise I’m gonna have to charge for extra labour now?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t labour. That was you enjoying yourself far too much on my kitchen worktop.”

He grinned wider, eyes glinting. “Yeah, well, might have to check that worktop for structural damage later. Took a proper pounding.”

I groaned, throwing a towel at his face. “You’re unbearable.”

He caught it one-handed, wiped sweat from his brow, then reached over and wiped a streak from mine too—slower than necessary, his fingers lingering at my temple.

“Could get used to this kind of job,” he said, quieter now. “Bit of graft, bit of fun. Bit of you.”

That last part just… hung in the air. Honest. Unfiltered.

I looked at him, really looked at him. The builder banter, the cocky grin, the muscles and sawdust—that was all still there. But underneath it now was something else. Something steady.

“You always flirt like this on site?” I asked, my voice softer too.

“Only when the client makes me forget what I’m here for,” he said, turning on his side to face me.

There was a pause. Not awkward—just weighted.

He reached over and ran a finger down my chest again, this time gentler. Slower.

“You’re trouble,” he said again, but there was no accusation in it now. Just admiration. “The dangerous kind.”

I shifted closer, chest to chest. “So what happens now?”

He smiled, but not that same cheeky smirk from before. This one was different. A little warmer. A little more real.

“Now,” he said, pressing a kiss to the edge of my jaw, “I grab a shower. Maybe nick one of your shirts. Then I come back tomorrow and actually look at your joists this time.”

I laughed. “And if I answer the door shirtless again?”

He stood slowly, stretching, every muscle flexing as he did.

“Then we might never finish this extension.”

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By *kyluke69Man
2 weeks ago

Gravesend

Loving this story keep going

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By *otwillyMan
2 weeks ago

Scunthorpe

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
2 weeks ago

Glasgow

Nice!

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By *ature boyMan
2 weeks ago

Erdington

Mmm more detail i hope

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By *tmguylookingMan
1 week ago

Chezzie

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By *ac6969Man
1 week ago

leeds

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 6: “Water & Heat”

I heard the bathroom door creak open, followed by the sound of pipes groaning awake and water hissing into life.

He hadn’t said I could follow.

But he hadn’t told me not to, either.

I pushed the door open slowly.

He was already under the stream—hot water fogging up the mirror, steam curling off his shoulders. He stood with his back to me, arms braced against the tile, head bowed. His skin gleamed, droplets racing down the wide expanse of muscle—across his broad back, down the deep curve of his spine, over the ridges of a body carved by work, not gyms.

He didn’t turn when I entered. Just said, voice rough:

“Took you long enough.”

I leaned against the doorframe, letting the view do what it wanted to me. “Didn’t want to interrupt. Looked like you were putting on a show.”

His laugh was low, gravelly. “Maybe I was.”

He turned, slow and unashamed, letting me take him in.

The water caught on every hard line—across his shoulders, down his chest where dark hair curled in the centre, thick and wet, tapering into a trail over solid abs and lower still, a magnificent, flacid, girthy cock.

He grabbed a bar of soap and lathered it between his hands—slow, deliberate—and then ran it across his chest, suds clinging to him like a second skin. His fingers worked across his pecs, dipping beneath his arms, down his ribs, slipping into that deep V that disappeared beneath his hips. He massaged the suds into his cock and balls, slowly, pulling, teasing.

I swallowed.

He didn’t miss it.

“You watching or joining?” he asked, not looking at me, just casually soaping one forearm, then the other, muscles flexing with every slow movement.

“Watching,” I said, voice lower than I meant it. “For now.”

He ran the soap across his stomach, then lower, dragging it over one hip and across to the other, never breaking eye contact once he finally looked up.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he teased. “Didn’t think anything could shut you up.”

“Wasn’t expecting a full performance,” I murmured. “You always wash like that?”

“Only when someone’s watching.” He leaned back into the spray, rinsing off with a sigh that sounded like sin. The water cascaded over him, drawing every edge into sharp relief—shoulders, abs, the lines of his thighs, his calves planted solid against the tile.

My fingers twitched against the doorframe.

He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back, then rested one palm against the glass of the shower screen. “Bet you’re hard right now,” he said, casually.

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

He smiled. Slow. Dangerous. Turned back under the water like he hadn’t just lit me on fire with a single line.

“Take your time,” he called over the water. “You’ll get your turn.”

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By *sfun2019Man
1 week ago

Dub North City Ireland

Wonder what they are going to do in the shower..my favourite place

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By *uck-Me-Hard-ScotlandMan
1 week ago

Barnjill (outside Dundee)

Always enjoy your stories

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By *otwillyMan
1 week ago

Scunthorpe

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 7: “Hands-On”

The steam was thick now—dense and heavy in the air like breath held too long.

I stepped forward.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just kept his back to me, arms still braced against the wall, head bowed under the stream. But when I reached for the handle and slid the glass open, the temperature in the room somehow climbed higher.

Water hit my chest as I stepped in. Heat soaked into my skin.

So did the sight of him—every inch of him glistening, powerful, and close enough to touch.

And then I did.

My hands found his waist first. Solid. Damp. Hot. He let out a low, breathy sound—not surprise, not protest. Just want.

He straightened slowly, letting my hands trail up his torso—his skin slick beneath my palms, muscles tensing under my fingers as I moved over his stomach, up his ribs, until I was pressed flush against his back, chest to spine, mouth at his shoulder.

“I told you,” he murmured, voice husky, “you’d get your turn.”

I leaned in, kissed the line where neck met collarbone. “I’m taking it.”

He turned then—water dripping from his hair, sliding down his beard. Our faces were inches apart. His eyes were darker now, pupils blown wide. He looked at me like he was barely holding back.

I didn’t wait.

Our mouths met with heat and hunger, but it was different now—slower. Less crash, more burn. His hands roamed, wrapping around my lower back, pulling me in until there was no space left between us.

My hands ran over his chest again, tracing the line of his pecs, thumbs grazing hardened nipples, then down his abs—slow, lingering. He hissed out a breath, biting down gently on my bottom lip.

“Careful,” he said. “You keep that up, and we won’t make it out of here.”

I smirked. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

I slid lower—kissing a trail down his neck, over his chest, following the path the water took across his body. My fingers gripped his thighs, hard, as I worked my way down.

His cock was hard, standing to attention, the pink skin pulling back to expose the engorged head, veins protruding down the glistening shaft, made slick by the water.

I gripped his thick shaft at the base, holding him steady as my tongue lapped at the precum oozing from his piss slit, before placing him at my lips and then swallowing him, tasting him, teasing him, until his hand shot out and grabbed my hair, just tight enough to tell me he was right there with me.

Steam clung to our bodies as the water roared around us—sound swallowed by breath, moans, the slap of wet skin and the rustle of hands that couldn’t stop moving, as I pleasured him with, tongue, mouth, lips and hands.

He pulled me up suddenly, mouth crashing to mine again, and spun me until my back hit the tile. Cold shock against the heat of him.

“I’ve had a lot of showers on site,” he said, grinding in close, his voice wrecked and low. “None of ’em like this.”

And then his mouth was on my neck, his hips pressing me into the wall, and all I could do was hold on.

Because this builder, he didn’t do anything halfway.

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By *ich65Man
1 week ago

Chorley

Loving this 😈

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By *tmguylookingMan
1 week ago

Chezzie

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By *ndy300Man
1 week ago

houston

Can't get enough of this

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By *herub65Man
1 week ago

Reading

Definitely one hot story. Please continue when time allows

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By *otwillyMan
1 week ago

Scunthorpe

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By *achsMan
1 week ago

Lisburn


"Part 1: “The Quote”more

The knock at the door came just as the kettle started to whistle. I padded over in socks, shirtless in joggers that hung a little low after a lazy morning. I wasn’t expecting anyone until noon.

He stood there like a walking stereotype—tanned forearms dusted with sawdust, a tool belt slung around his hips like it was sculpted to them. Broad shoulders stretched a plain grey T-shirt, and under his scruffy beard was a grin that said he’d noticed the state I was in. His accent was pure London—rough, playful, and completely disarming.

“You’re early,” I said, leaning on the doorframe a little too casually.

He shrugged, eyes flicking once down my chest before returning to my face. “Could say the same about you, mate. Didn’t realise this job came with a show.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realise builders flirted during work hours.”

He stepped inside without asking, brushing past me just close enough for his tool belt to nudge my hip. “Depends on the client,” he said, grinning. “You got plans for this extension, or are you just looking to get me round in the mornings?”

I closed the door behind him, amused. “Bit of both. Thought I’d get a quote... see what you can handle.”

He turned, face far too close now in the narrow hallway. “Trust me, I can handle a lot. Been doing this a long time. Big jobs, small jobs...” He winked. “Messy ones too.”

My lips twitched. “You always this forward?”

“Only when I think the client can take it.” He looked me over again, more deliberate this time. “Looks like you can.”

We ended up in the kitchen, him pulling out a tape measure and ducking down to size up the wall—offering a view that had me biting my lip. His shirt rose with every crouch, flashing a trail of hair leading below his waistband. Every time he moved, he filled the space with the scent of sweat, sawdust, and something unmistakably masculine.

“So,” he said, standing and closing the tape with a snap. “We’re talking a proper extension, yeah? Knock through here, maybe open it up a bit... give you more room to stretch out.”

“Sounds good,” I said, stepping in closer. “Can you start right away?”

His eyes locked with mine. “You want me on site that quick?”

I didn’t step back. “Think you can handle a fast job?”

He grinned, that same cheeky glint in his eyes. “Mate, when I commit to a job, I don’t leave till it’s done. Proper finish. Clean up after meself too.”

I laughed, the tension thick enough now to cut with a trowel. “Guess I’d better get your number, then.”

He reached into his back pocket, handed me a card. His fingers brushed mine—intentional, slow.

“It’s all on there. You ever need something built, touched up, or... looked at?” His voice dipped lower. “You just call, Andy.”

He left with a wink, the door closing behind him with a heavy finality. The room still smelled like him.

And I already knew I’d be calling."

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

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By *ornygayguy33Man
1 week ago

Wokingham

More please

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 8: “Against the Wall”

He didn’t give me a chance to breathe.

One minute his mouth was on mine, all teeth and tongue and water-slicked heat, the next his hands were at my thighs, lifting me like I weighed nothing, pinning me between the cold tile and the full weight of him.

I gasped—half shock, half want—and wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively. He grinned into the kiss, low and wicked.

“Thought you said you were watching,” he murmured, grinding his hips up into me. His hot cock pressing at my opening.

“I was,” I panted. “Now I’m participating.”

His laugh was hot against my mouth. “Good. Because I’m not done with you.”

I felt his calloused hands pulling my arse cheeks apart, spreading my hole wide. I felt the tip of his penis at my entrance, precum and water slicked, as he gently pushed. No condom this time, but I had lost sense of reason and care. I pushed out as he pushed in, each of us helping the other. Slow, gentle as he rose up into me and I sank down onto him. Gravity assisting us all the way, until he had penetrated fully and deeply.

He moved—slow, grinding rolls that made my spine press harder into the wall, that made my hands scrabble for purchase on his shoulders, gripping tight. Every part of him was soaked and slick, muscles straining as he held me up, rocked into me, groaned low in his throat every time I arched into him.

“Feel that?” he growled, biting lightly at my jaw.

“Hard not to,” I gasped, voice raw. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

He thrust again, rougher this time, making the glass shudder in its frame. “You want subtle, you called the wrong builder.”

I laughed—short, breathless—then gasped again as he pinned my hands above my head with one of his, the other gripping the back of my thigh, holding me wide open for him.

“You like this,” he said, eyes burning into mine. “Don’t lie.”

I didn’t.

Couldn’t.

My body said it for me—every moan, every grind, every stutter of my breath. He moved like he knew me already. Like he’d mapped every response. Every gasp and pull and need.

The water kept pouring over us, but the heat never faded. If anything, it built harder, fiercer, second by second. I could feel him everywhere—hands, mouth, hips, cock, breath.

He leaned in, kissed me like he was claiming something, and whispered against my lips, “You’re mine for this whole job, yeah?”

“All of it,” I whispered back.

And then everything shattered as seperatly we climaxed, one after the other—sound, thought, breath—until all that was left was wet skin, aching bodies, and the echo of his name in my throat.

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By *aygordon999Man
1 week ago

Shetland

Brilliant

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By *ld joe69Man
1 week ago

Farnborough

Getting better all the time

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By *sfun2019Man
1 week ago

Dub North City Ireland

Wow.. powerful......

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Magnificent!

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By *iHusbandMan
1 week ago

Mold

Right… this is pretty much my fantasy

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By *tmguylookingMan
1 week ago

Chezzie

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By *endeepMan
1 week ago

Gt Yarmouth

more more more...fuck I'm hard...

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By *unfollowerMan
1 week ago

Peterborough

Wow.. there is so much lust , want in this story….

Whoever is reading this, all of us wanted this to happen..

Very well written..

I hope there is more to the story…

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By *otwillyMan
1 week ago

Scunthorpe

♨️♨️

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By *orfyMan
1 week ago

Aylsham

Hot, hot, hot, 🥵🥵🥵, to say nothing about the shower! Great read

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 9: “Staying In”

The water finally ran cold.

We stumbled out of the shower like we’d just come down from a storm, breathless, bodies sore in the best ways, limbs tangled in towels and laughter that wouldn’t quite stay quiet.

He leaned against the sink, drops sliding off his beard, steam still curling around us like a secret. I caught his eye in the fogged-up mirror as I raked a towel through my hair.

“You alright?” I asked, voice rough and wrecked.

He looked me over slowly. Not just a once-over. It was lingering. Focused. Like he wasn’t just looking—he was considering something.

“Yeah,” he said. Then, “Think I’ll stay.”

I paused mid-dry.

“You will?”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but his eyes told the truth—it wasn’t nothing.

“You’ve got coffee, hot water, a decent bed…” He moved closer, towel low on his hips, his chest still glistening with leftover droplets. “And you.”

“You making it official?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.

He stepped right up to me, close enough that the damp air between us disappeared. “I make my mind up fast.”

I let my hands rest on his towel, teasing the edge. “That so?”

He smirked. “Told you. I don’t do half jobs.”

I leaned in, slow, brushing my lips just barely across his.

“Good,” I whispered. “Because I don’t want a one-night contractor.”

He kissed me then—not rushed, not rough. Just… solid. Like he’d finally let something settle.

And when we padded barefoot through the flat, towels slung low, water still dripping behind us, he followed me into the bedroom without asking.

No more teasing. No more lines drawn.

Just him pulling back the covers, slipping in beside me like he belonged there, and his voice low in the dark as he curled an arm around my waist and said:

“Might take a few more nights to finish quoting properly.”

I smiled into the pillow, reached back for his hand, and didn’t let go.

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

This is a great story, excellent writing as always thank you

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By *unfollowerMan
1 week ago

Peterborough

Wow…what a beautiful story…

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By *otwillyMan
1 week ago

Scunthorpe

Excellent story

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

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By *at6969669Man
1 week ago

swords

More

Loving this had multiple wanks reading it

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 10: “Over Easy”

The smell hit first.

Fresh coffee. Burnt toast. And something sizzling—probably eggs, maybe bacon. My brain was fogged with sleep and soreness in all the right places, but that scent pulled me upright.

The other side of the bed was empty.

His towel was gone from the floor.

I followed the noise to the kitchen, dragging a blanket around my waist, still flushed with the memory of last night—of both rounds, the heat, the steam, the way he hadn’t hesitated when he said he’d stay.

He was standing at the stove, shirtless, wearing nothing but his jeans, low on his hips, damp at the waistband. His hair was still wet from the shower, sticking up in the back like he hadn’t bothered with a mirror. His forearms were bare, flexing every time he flipped something in the pan.

“Morning,” I croaked, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “There he is. Sleeping beauty.”

“You’re cooking?”

“Course I’m cooking.” He gestured with the spatula. “Didn’t ravage you half the night just to let you starve after.”

I smirked. “So this is part of the quote?”

“Call it a courtesy service.” He turned off the burner and started plating up, sliding eggs and bacon onto two mismatched plates. “You take sugar?”

“In what?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Coffee, obviously.”

“Right.” I smiled. “One. And milk.”

He handed me a mug a moment later—black, chipped, steaming—and bumped my hip with his as he passed by. “Try not to fall in love with me just because I cook.”

“Bit late for that,” I muttered into the rim of the mug.

He paused.

Just long enough for me to notice.

Then he sat beside me on the breakfast bar, bare feet brushing mine under the stools. “You always say stuff like that in the morning?”

“Only when I mean it.”

He chewed a bite of bacon, eyes flicking up to mine. “Dangerous.”

I took a slow sip. “You started it.”

He nodded toward the plate. “Eat. Need your strength. I’ve got a long day ahead.”

I glanced at him. “Work?”

He grinned. “You.”

I laughed, nearly choking on my toast. “You never stop, do you?”

“Not when I’m onto something good.”

There was a pause. A real one. He looked at me—really looked—and something in his face shifted. The grin softened. The cockiness faded just a little.

“I meant it, you know,” he said quietly. “When I said I’d stay.”

“I know,” I said, just as soft.

And then, without asking, he reached across the counter and hooked a finger under my blanket, tugging me closer.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m still not done with you.”

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Wonderful!

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By *otwillyMan
1 week ago

Scunthorpe

Nice

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By *ature boyMan
1 week ago

Erdington

Fabulous and great fuck

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By *orwichscotMan
1 week ago

Livingston

Very horny !

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By *unfollowerMan
1 week ago

Peterborough

Keep going… a nice love story brewing…

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

such a great story

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 11: “Under Construction”

The hum of a drill echoed through the backgarden, followed by the rhythmic thud of boots on raw timber.

I leaned against the doorframe, cold glass of lemonade in hand, watching him work.

He hadn’t noticed me yet.

He was crouched near the edge of the soon-to-be extension, jeans riding low, a pencil tucked behind his ear, and sweat glistening down his bare back. His shoulders flexed with every movement, sawdust clinging to his skin like gold dust. There was music playing low from a battered radio—some classic rock track, all lazy riffs and heat.

He straightened, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and turned.

Then he saw me.

That grin hit like a nail gun to the chest. “You spying again?”

“Supervising,” I called, walking towards him, lemonade sweating in my grip. “Making sure you're earning your keep.”

“Thought I already did that this morning,” he said, voice rough with sweat and sawdust and something heavier under it.

I handed him the glass. “Hydrate. You’re no good to me if you pass out halfway through.”

He downed half of it in one long gulp, throat working, chest rising and falling slow. When he handed the glass back, our fingers touched—sticky with citrus and heat.

“You’ve got a look,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t trust that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that got me naked in a shower less than twenty-four hours after first meeting.”

I stepped closer, slow. “You’re already half-naked again.”

“Yeah, well, this time I am working.”

I brushed a hand over his stomach, just above his waistband—damp, warm, solid. “Doesn’t look like it.”

His eyes darkened. “Don’t test me.”

I looked up at him, lips barely parted. “Why not?”

He dropped the hammer with a clunk, stepped in close, and tilted my chin up with a finger still dusty with plaster.

“Because I’m sweating through these jeans,” he murmured, “and if you say one more word like that, I’m dragging you behind that stack of bricks and we’re finishing what we started.”

My breath caught.

We stood like that for a moment—his chest against mine, bodies inches from snapping again, the smell of sweat, wood, and want thick in the sun-warmed air.

Then he stepped back.

“Later,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “When I can’t get fired for it.”

“You work for yourself.”

“Exactly.” He smirked. “And I’d still report me.”

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By *aygordon999Man
1 week ago

Shetland

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By *avenMan
1 week ago

Yeovil

Hot stuff🔥.I like a sizeable extension 😀

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By *orfyMan
1 week ago

Aylsham


"Hot stuff🔥.I like a sizeable extension 😀"

Me too🔥🙃 loving this

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By *hrewsbicdxxMan
1 week ago

Shrewsbury

What a great horny story x

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Beautifully written!

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 12: “Off the Clock”

The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long over the half-built frame of the extension.

He'd been working in a low, concentrated silence since I left him with that lemonade. Muscles tight, jaw set, the kind of focus that made it impossible to look away.

But every time I glanced out the window, I caught it—his eyes flicking toward the house. Watching for me.

Waiting.

And when the hammer finally fell for the last time that day, he didn’t say a word. Just peeled off his work gloves, wiped his hands on a rag, and nodded toward the pile of timber stacked near the fence.

An unspoken order.

And I followed.

The moment we were behind the stack, hidden from the street and neighbors and anything but heat, he grabbed me by the waistband and shoved me against the wood. Not rough—but firm. Sure. Like he’d been holding it in all day.

“I warned you,” he said, voice rougher now. “Didn’t I?”

I didn’t answer. I just pulled him in.

His hands found my hips, dragging me into him, our bodies slamming together in a way that made the timber creak behind me. He kissed me like he was starving—hot, messy, all teeth and tongue and heat, and I matched it, fingers gripping his damp waistband, dragging him closer.

The sun was warm on our backs, but his skin was hot. Still flushed from work, chest damp with sweat, abs tight and shifting against mine as we moved, rocked, ground together like we’d lost control of time and sense.

“You’ve been looking at me like that all day,” he growled, nipping my jaw. “Think I didn’t notice?”

“You had your shirt off,” I gasped. “What did you expect?”

“I expected you to behave.”

“You knew I wouldn’t.”

That made him groan—low, like it had been stuck in his chest since sunrise. He pressed into me harder, hips meeting mine in a rhythm that was already starting to unravel us both. I felt his delicious hardening cock pressing into me, imagined the exposed head, shiny with precum, the girthy shaft th0bbing, remembered how he stretched and filled me with his love tool.

The rough grain of the timber bit into my back as he held me there, one hand sliding under my shirt, tracing the line of my stomach, then lower—teasing, testing, possessive. His hand gripped my own hardon through my shorts, squeezing, kneeding, teasing.

“This what you wanted?” he asked, breath hot against my ear. “Me, here, like this?”

I bit his shoulder. He hissed and grabbed my thigh, hitching it up around his hip.

“Careful,” he said, grinning now, sweat slicking down his chest. “We’re not done until the structure’s sound.”

“Then build,” I panted.

And he did.

He spun me around and roughly pulled down my shorts, before unfastening his own jeans, allowing his cock to spring free. He spat into the palm of his hand and coated his cock, before spitting again and using it to lubricate me.

He pushed two spit lubricated fingers, gently into my hole and used them to open me up. When he was satisfied I was ready, he lined himself up and gently pushed inside me. Once he was deep inside and I had relaxed around him, with a gentle groan, he began to thrust.

Slow, hard, relentless.

Bodies pressed into sun-warmed wood, hidden by shadows and the smell of sawdust and sweat. The kind of rough, hungry need that doesn’t wait for beds or nights—just hands, heat, and now.

By the time we had both climaxed and pulled apart, breathless and flushed, the sun was gone and the world was dim.

He leaned against the timber, shirtless, smirking, hair wild. “That one’s definitely not going on the invoice.”

I tucked myself against his chest, still catching my breath. “Guess I’ll have to pay in trade.”

He looked down at me, sweat and stubble and something softer in his eyes now. “Then I’m staying tonight too.”

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By *ich65Man
1 week ago

Chorley

Hard and horny again reading this

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By *rdiscreet327Man
1 week ago

notts

Amazing writing op!

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Hot!

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By *unfollowerMan
1 week ago

Peterborough

Ofcourse he is staying

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By *eadar123Man
1 week ago

dublin

So horny

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 13: “Full Service”

Dinner had been quiet, warm. Leftovers from the fridge, eaten shirtless on the sofa, legs tangled, bodies sore in that delicious, well-earned way. He’d barely said a word—just ate with one hand and kept the other resting on my thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles that made me want to skip the food altogether.

Later, after a second shared shower, steam clinging to our skin and laughter echoing off the tile, I told him to lie face-down on the bed.

“No arguments,” I’d said, towel slung low on my hips, oil warming between my palms. “You’ve been lifting half a house all day.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t hesitate—just sprawled out across the mattress, arms folded under his head, completely naked.

The room smelled like cedar and heat and whatever muscle rub I’d poured into my hands. I climbed over him slowly, straddling the backs of his thighs, taking a moment to admire everything—the wide expanse of his shoulders, the curve of his lower back, his smooth round buttocks, the faint sheen of clean skin still warm from the shower.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” I murmured, and pressed my hands to his shoulders.

He let out a low groan that vibrated straight through me. “Too much? You’ve been threatening me with this all day.”

I smiled and dug in deeper.

Long, slow strokes. Palms and thumbs and forearms, tracing every ridge of his back, coaxing out every knot and bit of tension the day had left behind. His body melted beneath me, breath deepening, legs spreading slightly as I worked my way down.

I took my time.

His traps. His spine. The deep muscles around his waist and the solid slope of his glutes. The oil made everything slick and smooth, my hands gliding over him like water, pressing deep, slow, purposeful.

“You’re unreal,” he muttered into the pillow. “Gonna have to keep you on contract.”

“Hmm?” I teased, voice low, breath brushing his ear. “Is that your way of saying you’re enjoying this?”

“I’m saying,” he said, voice a rasp now, “if you go any lower, I’m not responsible for what happens.”

I didn’t stop.

My hands drifted, lower now—down the backs of his thighs, kneading, coaxing, gliding. The line between massage and more started to blur.

His breath hitched. He shifted under me.

I slid my hands higher again, then down, slow and certain, until I heard him exhale a curse into the pillow.

He turned his head slightly, eyes half-lidded, flushed and hazy. “You doing what I think you’re doing?”

I leaned in, lips at his ear. “You said full service.”

He growled something unintelligible, hips lifting into my hands. “Remind me to tip you.”

I didn’t answer with words. Just with touch.

Slow. Skilled. Focused.

Hands gliding underneath him, I took his hard cock into my hand and slowly stroked him from root to tip, the oil on my hand helping it to slide effortlessly over his hot skin and around his mushroom head.

I watched every twitch of his body, listened to every ragged breath, timed my movements to every low moan that escaped him. And when I felt him start to tense, to grip the sheets like he was holding on for dear life, I leaned in again, kissed the back of his neck, and whispered, “Let go.”

He did.

Hard.

Messy.

And beautiful.

He lay there after, completely still except for the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional twitch of overstimulated nerves.

I reached for the towel, cleaned him gently, then lay down beside him, dragging a hand over the same path I’d just traced with oil.

“Still think I’m dangerous?” I asked softly.

He turned his head, smiling like he could barely keep his eyes open. “Yeah,” he murmured. “But you’re worth the risk.”

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

Oh my god this is so good, please keep going

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By *unfollowerMan
1 week ago

Peterborough

Wow…just wow….

You are emptying his balls multiple times a day.

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By *ature boyMan
1 week ago

Erdington

Mmm im hard again now

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By *assage 99Man
1 week ago

Barnoldswick

phew… well written

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Loving this!

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By *eane2Man
1 week ago

Nuneaton

So good, hope won't be long for next installment

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By *rdiscreet327Man
1 week ago

notts

Love this!

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 14: “Site Visit”

The morning sun was already baking the unfinished frame of the extension when I arrived.

I hadn’t texted. Didn’t plan to.

Just threw on shorts, a plain tee, and sunglasses, picked up two iced coffees, and headed around the back of the house where Andy was in full swing.

He was shirtless again—because of course he was—boots laced, cut of jeans dusty and riding low, and a carpenter’s pencil stuck behind his ear like always. He was holding a saw in one hand, shouting something over the music to a younger guy on-site with him.

All work. All heat. All raw, masculine focus.

He didn’t see me at first.

So I watched.

The way his forearms flexed when he leaned over a sawhorse. The line of his back when he straightened and wiped sweat from his neck. The way he commanded the site like it belonged to him—like he belonged to it.

Then he turned.

And his entire face shifted.

Gone was the site foreman, barking orders and thinking in measurements. In his place, that smirk curved slow and sharp as his eyes dragged over me.

“Well, well,” he called out, dropping the saw. “Didn’t expect a client inspection today.”

I held up the iced coffees. “Thought I’d check on your progress. See if your hands were still steady after last night.”

The younger guy working beside him looked up, smirked, and wisely grabbed his tape measure and wandered to the far end of the site.

Andy stalked over to me, boots crunching over gravel.

“You’re a bloody menace,” he muttered, voice low. “You know that?”

“You missed me,” I teased.

He didn’t answer. Just took the coffee from my hand, drank deep, then leaned down so close I could feel the heat still rising off his skin.

“You show up like this, in those shorts, no warning, knowing I’ve been thinking about your hands on me all night—” His voice dipped lower, “—and you expect me to keep my cool in front of the apprentice?”

“You looked pretty composed a second ago.”

“Yeah?” He leaned closer, lips brushing my ear. “Get inside. Wait for me.”

I shivered. “What about your mate?”

“I told him to take a long lunch.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t hear you say anything.”

He grinned. “Didn’t have to.”

Then he slapped the back of my thigh, just hard enough to make me jump, and turned back toward the sawhorse like he hadn’t just threatened to devour me the moment we were alone.

And I?

I walked inside.

Because I knew what was coming.

And I couldn’t wait to see what a lunch break looked like in his hands.

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

I need a builder like Andy, hot sexy and insatiable 🤤🤤🤤

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow


"I need a builder like Andy, hot sexy and insatiable 🤤🤤🤤"

Oh yes! Get me his number!

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By *eteguy2Man
1 week ago

Ware

Intrigued about the apprentice and his intuition

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 15: “Lunch Break”

The door hadn’t even clicked shut before I heard him coming.

Heavy boots on hardwood. Purpose in every step. No hesitation.

I barely had time to turn before he was on me—one hand on the back of my neck, the other yanking my shirt up, his mouth hot and hungry at my jaw, down my throat, biting like he was trying to claim something.

“You’ve got five minutes,” he growled, spinning me and pressing me against the nearest wall. “Make it count.”

“Thought you had an hour,” I said, breathless, already half-hard.

“I lied.” He shoved his hand down the front of my shorts—rough, fast, fingers wrapping tight around my cock. “But if you’re quick, I’ll give you dessert after.”

I gasped, knees going soft. “You’re insatiable.”

“You’ve ruined me,” he snapped, pulling me back against his chest. His voice was pure heat now, breath hot in my ear. “Turned me into a bloody animal. Can’t even swing a hammer without getting hard thinking about your mouth.”

I arched into him, lips parted. “Then take it.”

He didn’t need telling twice.

In one motion, he yanked my shorts down and bent me slightly over the kitchen counter. His body pinned mine, one arm wrapping around my chest, holding me there while his hips ground into my arse, slow and threatening.

“I should make you wait,” he muttered, grinding harder. “Make you beg.”

“Then do it,” I dared, teeth sinking into my lip.

He went still. Just for a second.

Then he shoved the coffee cup off the counter and growled, “Don’t test me, sweetheart.”

What followed wasn’t gentle.

It was fast, filthy, and completely unprofessional.

Hands gripping my hips. His teeth at my neck. Our sweat from the day reawakening in a new heat as he moved against me like the whole world had been leading to this moment.

The counter shook beneath us. My hands scrambled for anything to hold onto—until he grabbed them both, pinned them down, and fucked every thought right out of me.

“Louder,” he demanded. “I want the whole street to hear what I do to you.”

I gave it to him.

By the time he finished, we were both panting against the countertop, foreheads pressed to the cool surface, fingers still tangled.

He kissed the back of my neck, breath catching.

“That,” he said, “is why we wear hard hats.”

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

🥵🥵

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Bliss !

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By *ich65Man
1 week ago

Chorley

Breathless readimg this, so hot

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By *ature boyMan
1 week ago

Erdington

Mmm lovely hard fuck

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By *sfun2019Man
1 week ago

Dub North City Ireland

So hot.....love this

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By (user no longer on site)
1 week ago

Hot story

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By *ornytimeMan
1 week ago

working @ the festival

Yer another great story and has me checking on many occasions for the next instalment during the day

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Party 16: "Second Fix"

The kitchen was quiet, except for the tick of the clock and the low hum of the fridge.

He hadn’t moved much. Still pressed against me, chest rising and falling slow, his breath skating down the back of my neck like he didn’t want to let go.

And I didn’t move either.

Because I knew.

I felt it—still hard against me. Still burning under the skin. The kind of arousal that hadn’t ebbed, just shifted—from hunger to something darker. Slower. Raw.

He kissed the back of my shoulder. Then again. Slower, lower. Until his teeth grazed that spot just above my spine and he breathed, “Round two.”

It wasn’t a question.

He pulled back just enough to grip my waist, turn me to face him, and tilt my chin up. His eyes were storm-dark. Not wild—but focused. Feral with restraint.

“I didn’t get to see you last time,” he said, voice gravel and fire. “This time, I want all of you.”

He dragged me to the bedroom like a man on a mission—not urgent, but driven. Laid me out like a blueprint. Every movement deliberate. Every kiss slower. And when his hands moved, they weren’t just touching—they were claiming.

There was no music. No words.

Just the creak of the bed, the slide of skin, and the way he watched me—eyes locked on mine as he moved above me, inside me, with me. No hurry. No mercy.

His sweat dripped onto my chest. I pulled him closer.

“You feel that?” he growled into my neck. “That’s what happens when you show up on my site looking like a sin.”

I bit his shoulder. Hard. He moaned—not in pain, but approval. Like he wanted it rough. Real. Like he needed the marks after to remember who we were in this moment.

It wasn’t just sex.

It was need—stripped bare and pushed to the edge.

His hand slid under my thigh, lifting, anchoring. My back arched. His hips snapped forward.

I gasped his name. Not softly.

He kissed it out of my mouth.

And when we both broke—him shaking above me, breath hitching, fingers tangled in mine—he didn’t move. He stayed there, weight heavy, heartbeat thunderous.

Our foreheads touched.

And in the quiet after, I felt it: the burn of something neither of us had said yet.

But it was there.

Beneath the sweat and breath and tremble.

Something real.

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

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By *ardsoloMan
1 week ago

Harlow

Wow wow wow, amazing heat, my heart is still pounding and my cock is throbbing. Brilliantly written

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By *rdiscreet327Man
1 week ago

notts

Brilliant writing op.

Really enjoying this.

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

So good

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 17: “After Hours”

It was just past 1 a.m. when I heard the knock. Not loud—just three solid raps, quick and sure.

Then silence.

I hesitated.

No one knocks like that unless they know you’ll open.

And when I did, he was standing there—jeans low, shirt half-buttoned and clinging to a chest still damp with sweat, boots untied. His hair was wild, like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times.

But it was the grin that hit hardest.

Lopsided. Loose. Cheeky.

Tipsy.

“Alright, mate,” he said, voice rough and warm. “Miss me?”

He swayed slightly as he stepped inside, uninvited but completely welcome. I caught the scent of beer, smoke, and something sharper—aftershave or adrenaline.

“Out with the lads?” I asked, closing the door behind him.

He laughed. “Bit of footy. Few pints. Nothing serious. Except...” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. So I left.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You left your mates to come here?”

He walked straight past me, toeing off his boots, then dropping onto the couch like it was his own. Legs spread, head back, eyes closing briefly.

“Don’t make it a thing,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me or have me?” I teased.

He cracked an eye open, and the look he gave me was slow and heavy with want.

“Both.”

I crossed the room. Stood between his legs. He looked up at me, lips parted, pupils blown wide.

There was no urgency this time. No site, no sweat, no steam.

Just him—a little d*unk, a little soft around the edges, but still him. Still dangerous in the way his eyes tracked mine. Still lethal with the way his hand slid up my thigh like instinct.

“Didn’t expect you tonight,” I murmured.

“Didn’t expect to come,” he replied, tugging me down onto his lap. “But you’re in my head. All the time. Even when I’m out. Even when I try not to think about you.”

My breath caught.

He kissed me before I could answer—slow, lingering, tasting. Less heat, more hunger. A different kind.

When he pulled back, his lips were flushed, and his voice had dropped into something ragged.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted.

“At what?”

“This,” he said. “Wanting someone this much. It’s easier when it’s just bodies. But with you…”

His hand slid up under my shirt, warm and possessive. His mouth met mine again—this time with less control.

And I let him take me under again.

D*unk on him, too.

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By *ewi1964Man
1 week ago

Albufeira Algarve

Just caught up with this story! Fantastic writing! Thanks Paul

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By *aygordon999Man
1 week ago

Shetland

Great hot new chapter

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By *ung-RobMan
1 week ago

Rickmansworth

Such good writing!

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Great reading

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 18: “Couchfire”

The kiss didn’t end.

It shifted—melted—into something more.

He was still warm from the night out, but it was the kind of warmth that came from deep in the chest now, not the alcohol. One hand behind my neck, the other cradling my hip, he pulled me into him like he needed the closeness more than the act.

The usual tension between us—the fire, the friction—had slowed. Not vanished. Just simmered into something deliberate. A different kind of hunger.

I moved in his lap, straddling him now on the couch, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his thighs. He leaned his head back, looking up at me like I was something to study. Something to remember.

“You okay?” I asked, brushing hair from his forehead.

He blinked slowly. “Yeah. Just… haven’t done this like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Like it matters.”

The words hit somewhere deep. Low. Quiet.

I answered by kissing him—softer this time, slower. One hand tracing the edge of his jaw, the other resting at the curve of his shoulder. And he melted into it. No rush. No games.

His hands slid under my shirt, not grabbing, just holding. His palms were rough, calloused, strong—and suddenly reverent. Like touching me wasn’t about possession this time. It was about connection.

The way we moved together was different. Still intense, still charged—but full of space to breathe between kisses. Time to watch each other. Touch with meaning.

I peeled his shirt off slowly, revealing that solid, sun-worn chest I’d already learned too well. But this time, I didn’t pounce. I just… touched. Watched the way he inhaled at every brush of my fingers. Every drag of my lips along his collarbone.

“You always take care of everything,” I whispered. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

His hand tightened at my waist. But he nodded.

I guided him back into the cushions, pressed kisses down his neck, across his chest. Took my time exploring every muscle and scar, learning him in a way that wasn’t just about lust anymore.

And when we finally moved together—hips slow, breaths syncing, his hands cradling my back like I might disappear if he let go—it wasn’t wild or frantic.

It was anchoring.

Every motion was a message. Every kiss between breaths a word left unsaid.

And when he finally broke—tense, whispering my name like a promise—I held him through it.

After, tangled in silence, he buried his face in my neck and murmured, “Didn’t know it could feel like this.”

I kissed his hair. “It does, when you mean it.”

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By *ature boyMan
1 week ago

Erdington

Love it if you sit on his cocktail

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

Wow such tenderness, and meaning love this story

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 19: “Assumptions”

When he told me he was taking a personal day, it caught me off guard.

“Everything alright?” I asked casually, watching him tug on a worn grey hoodie.

“Yeah,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “Just need a day off. Stuff to sort.”

He kissed me—soft, quick—and disappeared out the door.

But something about it sat wrong.

Maybe it was the way he didn’t meet my eyes. Maybe it was how fast he left. Or maybe it was just that ugly little voice in the back of my head, whispering that this thing between us had moved too fast, too deep.

So I followed.

Didn’t mean to. Not really. But I knew the sound of his engine, knew the road he took out of town. I kept a distance, heart hammering harder than I wanted to admit.

He parked near a quiet café, more residential than industrial, and headed around the corner.

I parked. Waited.

Then got out.

Curiosity carried me closer until I found the alleyway between two brick buildings. And that’s when I saw them.

Him.

The guy was tall. Broader than even Andy. Dark hair, sleeves rolled, that same easy charm carved into his features. He said something, and he laughed—Andy—head tilted back, easy, free.

Then it happened.

A playful shove. A tug on the hoodie. Arms around shoulders.

Then the guy leaned in and kissed his neck.

And his hand landed right on his arse, squeezing it, fondling it!

I froze.

Everything inside me clenched—gut, jaw, fists. It was hot rage and cold betrayal all at once, choking me with questions I had no answers for.

I left before I saw more.

Didn’t sleep that night.

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By *eteguy2Man
1 week ago

Ware

Not drawing any conclusions

Yet…

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Ouch!

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By *unfollowerMan
1 week ago

Peterborough

That’s not good…

All that lust and I thought is going to develop into Love…but it seems to turn into betrayal..

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By *ardsoloMan
1 week ago

Harlow

Great writing

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By *rdiscreet327Man
1 week ago

notts

Brilliant as always op.

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 20: “The Blowup”

The next morning, I didn’t wait for him to kiss me. I didn’t make coffee. I didn’t even look up from where I sat at the table.

“You were with someone yesterday.”

He froze halfway through the door, keys still in hand. “Sorry—what?”

I stood. “You kissed him. He had his hands on you.”

He blinked, then the storm hit his face. “You followed me?”

“You were hiding something.”

“And you thought the answer was to stalk me? Jesus.”

“Don’t flip this on me,” I snapped. “You lied. You disappeared. You let him put his hands all over you—”

“He’s my brother,” he barked.

The room went silent.

I blinked.

“What?”

“My brother,” he said again, quieter now. “My twin, actually. That’s who I went to see. Haven’t seen him in over a year.”

I sat down slowly, heartbeat still thudding in my ears.

“But he… kissed your neck. And groped you.”

His lip twitched—equal parts amusement and residual fury. “It’s how we wind each other up. Have done since we were kids. He knows it gets under people’s skin. It’s a joke.”

I stared at him.

He ran a hand through his hair. “You seriously thought I’d cheat on you like that? After everything?”

“I didn’t know what to think,” I said, voice barely audible.

He stepped forward. Still angry. But something softer brewing behind it. “You don’t trust me?”

I swallowed. “I want to.”

His eyes searched mine. “Then ask, next time. Don’t go behind me.”

Silence lingered between us.

Then he sighed. “Come meet him next time. He’s dying to meet the one who’s got me completely out of my mind.”

I let out a shaky laugh.

And finally, finally, he stepped in and pulled me into his arms.

Tight.

Real.

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

Ah now! Wait for it

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By *ature boyMan
1 week ago

Erdington

2 of them..wow

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By *orfyMan
1 week ago

Aylsham

I wonder if they are identical

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
1 week ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 21 “The Other One”

“Don’t stare,” he warned as we pulled up to the pub.

“I won’t,” I lied, already half-expecting to be spun around by déjà vu.

He cut the engine and shot me a look. “He’ll flirt. That’s his way. Don’t rise to it.”

“Is this a warning or a challenge?”

He smirked, but didn’t answer.

The door chimed as we walked in.

And then—there he was.

Leaning back in a chair, pint in hand, grin already wide and knowing.

The resemblance was uncanny. Same strong build. Same smirk. But where Andy was grounded and quiet in his confidence, this one radiated mischief.

He stood. “Well, well, well,” he said, looking me over like a menu. “So this is the reason my brother’s been completely off his nut.”

“Be nice,” Andy muttered.

“I’m always nice,” he stepped forward and offering a hand. “I’m Liam.”

I shook it, trying not to react when he held on just a beat too long. His eyes sparkled.

“Don’t mind him,” Andy said, sitting down. “He flirts with the mirror.”

“Because the mirror doesn’t argue,” Liam shot back.

The conversation quickly spiraled into light jabs and stories from their childhood—some funny, some telling. Liam leaned in every time he addressed me, eyes full of wicked curiosity.

“Tell me,” he asked over drinks, “what’s it like being with him? He’s always been the serious one. Bet he’s a right bossy—”

“Liam,” Andy warned, half amused, half not.

I raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say he knows what he wants.”

Liam let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, he does.”

Andy shot him a glare, and for a second, Liam actually softened.

“Nah, seriously,” he said, a bit more sincere now. “You’re good for him. He’s… lighter. Calmer. Never thought I’d see it.”

And just like that, the mischief faded for a moment. Something unspoken passed between the two of them—some history I hadn’t earned the right to ask about yet.

After a while, we walked out, the sun slipping low in the sky.

Andy and Liam hugged and then without warning, Liam grabbed me and pulling me into a tight embrace, planted a kiss on my cheek and a hand on my arse, just as I had seen him do to Andy.

I pushed him away, a grin on his face, he was teasing me and I didn't appreciate it. Andy looked slightly embarrassed.

“He likes you,” Andy said quietly, back at the van.

“He gropes people he likes?”

He laughed. “He pushes boundaries to see who pushes back. You did good.”

I slid my hand into his. “So did you.”

He pulled me in, lips brushing mine. “Told you I had nothing to hide.”

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

[Removed by poster at 25/07/25 16:30:36]

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By *kyluke69Man
1 week ago

Gravesend

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By *iverman98Man
1 week ago

EXETER

Mind blowing writing, your narrative never fails to disappoint, great story, horny and totally believable..loving every word

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
1 week ago

Glasgow

But is Liam interested?

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By *ature boyMan
1 week ago

Erdington

Interesting

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By *ardsoloMan
7 days ago

Harlow

Interesting turn of events

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
7 days ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 22 “Thin Walls”

Liam arrived with nothing more than a duffel bag and a grin that said trouble’s here.

“Just for a bit,” he said, flopping onto the sofa. “Promise I’ll be quiet.”

Andy shot me a look over his shoulder, smirking.

“Not bloody likely.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The three of us had settled into an uneasy rhythm. Liam made himself at home fast — his cologne already lingering in the bathroom, his laugh too loud through the kitchen tiles.

That night, Andy and I collapsed into bed late. The kind of late that wraps you in warmth and quiet. Andy was spooned behind me, skin still damp, fingers tracing lazy shapes along my hip.

Then the thump came. Then a laugh. Muffled. Male. Then another thump, followed by something unmistakable.

A low, rhythmically paced groan from the other room.

I froze.

He didn’t.

“Liam’s brought company,” Andy murmured, his lips at the base of my neck.

“No kidding,” I hissed.

Another groan.

Then a sharper sound — Liam, clearly encouraging. Dirty, enthusiastic encouragement.

I turned around in bed, wide-eyed. “Is he seriously—?”

He nodded. “Oh yeah.”

“You’re amused?” I whispered, indignant.

He grinned. “It’s Liam. If you expected peace and purity, you haven’t been paying attention.”

I opened my mouth to protest again—but then it happened.

A loud, ragged moan. Furniture creaking. A breathless laugh from Liam that sent heat racing up my spine.

Andy was watching me now. Eyes glinting.

“You’re pretending you don’t find this hot,” he said, voice low.

“I find it rude,” I replied. My voice cracked on the last syllable.

“Uh huh.”

Another moan through the wall. The kind that made you blush just hearing it.

His hand slid down my back, resting at the base of my spine. Despite myself I was aware that my cock was stirring, as was Andy"s I could feel it hardening against my arse, hot, thr0bbing, starting to leak precum as he gently nuzzled it against me.

“This is what gets you, isn’t it?” he murmured. “Knowing they’re just there. Close. Loud. Filthy.”

I shivered. “You’re terrible.”

He rolled me onto my back. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I kissed him.

Hard.

And all at once, the noises through the wall became background music to something else entirely—our laughter, our gasps, our own rhythm building in answer to theirs.

Later, breathless, tangled in sweat and sheets, we lay there while Liam’s escapades faded into silence.

Andy nuzzled into my neck. “Told you it’d be fun.”

I swatted his chest, grinning despite myself.

“You’re never inviting him to move out, are you?”

“Not if this is how you react.”

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By *outhKesMan
7 days ago

Here and There

The best author on here. Exhausting to read, yet I keep coming back for more ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

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By *unfollowerMan
7 days ago

Peterborough

Amazing writer…

Wow

, just wow

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By *ornysuckerMan
7 days ago

Portsmouth

Loving this so hot

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
7 days ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part: 23: “Towel Talk”

The smell of coffee hit me first.

Groggy, half-dressed, and still riding the aftershocks of last night, I padded down the hallway toward the kitchen.

I wasn’t expecting him.

Liam stood by the stove, one hand holding a mug, the other lazily flipping eggs in the pan.

Wearing nothing but a towel.

A small towel.

It left very little to the imagination.

His hair was damp, curls tousled from the shower, skin still flushed. Water tracked along his shoulder blades, dipping down his back where the towel clung just below his hips.

He turned when he heard me and grinned.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.”

I blinked, then forced my gaze up from where it had very nearly locked on.

“You’re up early.”

“Didn’t sleep much,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “Thin walls, yeah?”

My face flushed instantly. “Right.”

He poured a second mug of coffee and slid it across the counter toward me.

I took it without meeting his eyes.

Liam leaned on the island, smirking.

“You two were louder than me and... what’s-his-name,” he said, mock thoughtful. “Honestly thought the bed was going to snap.”

I glared. “Could’ve used some warning.”

“Warning?” he teased, “Oh come on. You loved it.”

“I did not—”

“You did,” he said, stepping around the island. “And let’s be honest, you weren’t just turned on by Andy last night.”

He was close now. Towel low. Coffee steaming between us.

“You’ve been looking,” he said softly. “Since the second I walked in.”

I swallowed. “You’re full of yourself.”

“I’m full of a lot of things. Self-awareness is one of them.”

He leaned in just a little more.

“But don’t worry. I’m not here to mess with your little setup. He’s a good bloke. Loyal. Better than most.”

Pause.

“But if you ever get... curious...bored,” he said, eyes dragging down my body, “you know where to find me.”

And just like that, he turned back to the stove, whistling to himself.

A second later, I heard Andy’s voice behind me.

“Hope he’s not feeding you too well,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist, lips brushing my neck.

My heart jumped.

Liam just looked over his shoulder and winked.

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
7 days ago

Glasgow

Now there is an invitation if ever there was one!

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By *ewi1964Man
7 days ago

Albufeira Algarve

Interesting to see how this develops. Is Liam trouble? Could be messy. I shall keep my own counsel and wait and see!! 😎😎

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By *ich65Man
7 days ago

Chorley

Mmm... enjoying reading this 😈

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By *unfollowerMan
6 days ago

Peterborough

Can’t wait how it turns out…

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
6 days ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 24: “Lines in the Fire”

Andy didn’t tell me until the morning of.

“Job came up,” he said, tossing clothes into a duffel. “Two days, max. Should’ve been next week, but the site shifted the schedule.”

“You could’ve warned me.”

He zipped the bag and looked at me. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“It’s not about minding, it’s about being left.”

His hand paused on the strap.

“You’ll be fine. Liam’s harmless.”

I didn’t answer.

He kissed my forehead, murmured something about missing me already, and was gone before noon.

By five, Liam was in the kitchen, music on low, sleeves rolled up, barefoot, barefoot — again. This time, jeans hung low on his hips and a white tee clung to his chest like it’d been designed to tempt.

“You like risotto?” he asked, tossing garlic into a pan like a professional.

“I like quiet dinners.”

He grinned. “Too bad.”

The food was, infuriatingly, excellent — earthy mushrooms, fresh herbs, wine perfectly matched. He poured a second glass and settled into the seat opposite me.

“So,” he said. “How’s the arrangement?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What arrangement?”

“You and my twin,” he said, swirling his wine. “He playing the boyfriend or just the builder with benefits?”

“None of your business.”

He leaned back, legs spreading, casual as sin.

“Thing is,” he said, “Andy and I… we’ve always shared everything. Clothes. Cars. Secrets.”

Pause.

“Sometimes even people.”

The air between us tightened.

I pushed my plate away. “Not happening.”

He smiled, slow and sure. “Didn’t say it was. Yet.”

“You really have no boundaries, do you?”

“Boundaries are for people afraid of what they want.”

I stood, collecting plates, needing distance. His eyes followed me, predatory but not unkind. Just… locked in.

“You’re bored when he’s gone,” he said. “I see it. Feel it.”

I turned. “He’s your brother.”

“And you’re still looking at me like you’re picturing it.”

“I’m not.”

His smile grew. “Then why haven’t you left the room yet?”

Silence stretched.

Finally, I said, “Because I know what a challenge looks like.”

He grinned, rising from his chair.

“And I know what unfinished business feels like.”

Then he stepped aside, giving me space.

But I felt it.

The shift.

The line drawn

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By *uckbiMan
6 days ago

Lowestoft

Crikey im addicted to this tale

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
6 days ago

Glasgow

Interesting twist. Will the resolve last?

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
6 days ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 25: “Steam and Silence”

The hallway was quiet, I reached for the bathroom door handle, assuming it was empty—Andy always locked it.

Except it wasn’t, the door opened, and there was Liam.

Steam curled behind him like a veil, and he stood there, towel slung over his shoulder, droplets tracking down his chest, catching in the sharp lines of his stomach and running in rivulets like pointing arrows to his cock and balls.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t scramble to cover up. Just smirked, like he’d been waiting.

“Looking for something?” he asked, voice rough from heat and echo.

I froze. “Didn’t realise someone was in here.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “That’s a shame. I wouldn’t have minded the company.”

I stepped back, but not fast enough. His presence followed.

“You’re jumpy,” he said, toweling his hair. “Not like the other night. You were brave then. Loud, too.”

“Liam—”

He leaned on the doorframe, towel still loose, water still clinging to his collarbone.

“You don’t trust yourself around me. That’s what makes it fun.”

Before I could reply, my phone buzzed.

Andy.

I snatched it up and ducked into the living room, voice clipped. “Hey.”

“Hey, love. Quick one—I won’t be back until next week. Job got bigger, extra days, no signal tomorrow. I should’ve told you earlier.”

My chest tightened. “You should have.”

A pause.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is I didn’t sign up to be babysitting your brother while you vanish. He’s in my house, cooking like he owns it, walking around half-naked—”

“You don’t trust him?”

“I don’t trust what he’s trying to do.”

Another silence. He sighed. “Don’t let him get to you. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“He means something. I’m not stupid.”

More silence.

Then: “We’ll talk when I’m home.”

The line clicked.

I turned—and there was Liam, leaning just inside the hallway. Still unashamedly naked. No sound. Just watching. He’d heard every word.

“I cook really well for someone you hate,” he said casually, padding barefoot into the kitchen. “But don’t worry…”

He turned, looked me up and down.

“I’ve got all week to win you over.”

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
6 days ago

Glasgow

Liam needs to be told to get out now!

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By *ature boyMan
6 days ago

Erdington

Omg

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By *unfollowerMan
6 days ago

Peterborough

He doesn’t want Liam to go…he wants him to, but he doesn’t know that he wants Liam yet..Liam is like a trap..

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By *ewi1964Man
6 days ago

Albufeira Algarve

Umm! Very uneasy about Liam! Not a nice guy

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By *aregay31Man
6 days ago

Marchwood Southampton

Liam certainly knows how to get uncomfortably get under people's skin. Liam smells like trouble

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
6 days ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 26: “Silk and Snare”

The days passed quietly.

Too quietly.

Liam didn't push, not openly. He didn’t make another bold move or corner me with that trademark smirk. Instead, he softened. Or seemed to.

He started wearing shirts again. Left the bathroom door closed. Even offered to sleep at a mate’s for a night, just to “give me space.”

But the air between us still hummed like a wire pulled taut.

That Thursday night, rain slicked the windows, and the house felt small. Too many shadows. Too much silence. I found Liam in the living room, lounging sideways on the sofa, a book cracked open on his chest.

He looked up. “Didn’t think you’d come out.”

“I live here.”

He smiled. “And yet, you’ve barely looked at me since Tuesday.”

“Thought you’d appreciate the restraint.”

His eyes locked onto mine. “It’s not my restraint I’m worried about.”

He said it gently. No smirk. No heat. Just truth, laid bare.

I went to the kitchen and poured a drink—mostly for something to do. Behind me, the soft creak of the sofa cushions, then bare feet padding across the floor. He didn’t come too close. Just stood at the doorway, watching the storm with me.

“You ever wonder,” he said after a while, “why some people pull at us more than others?”

I turned slowly. “This is you being subtle?”

“No,” he said. “This is me being real.”

He walked past me, fingers grazing the counter near mine—but not touching. Not quite.

“I’m not trying to steal you. That’s not what this is.” He met my eyes. “I just think you’re bored pretending you’re only one thing.”

The words hit like a slow echo. I hated that he knew how to aim them.

He stepped back then, the briefest flash of emotion behind his guarded calm.

“If I’m wrong,” he said softly, “then you’ve got nothing to worry about, do you?”

And with that, he left the room, quiet as ever, but the space he left behind felt warmer. Thinner. Full of threads that hadn’t been there before.

He wasn’t baiting me anymore. He was waiting for me to bait myself.

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By *eteguy2Man
6 days ago

Ware

He needs Andy to agree to it

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
6 days ago

Glasgow

Get rid of him only if you are prepared to risk losing Andy! But br careful!

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By *ich65Man
6 days ago

Chorley

Is this a ploy set up by Andy, to test him?

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By *ardsoloMan
5 days ago

Harlow

Mmmmm

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By *unfollowerMan
5 days ago

Peterborough

I think you should just fuck Liam and get over it…I don’t think Liam is looking for a relationship…

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By *rdiscreet327Man
5 days ago

notts

Real tricky situation.

Do you stay faithful to Andy or do you see how similar twins really are?

Great work op.

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
5 days ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 27: Late Shift

The house was still. The kind of still that makes every floorboard creak louder.

I couldn’t sleep.

I drifted to the kitchen more out of instinct than need. Just movement. A light to chase away the static.

The fridge hummed. The kettle clicked. I was reaching for a mug when I heard it.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Liam.

He stood in the doorway, bare feet, sweatpants, hair a little messy from a pillow. No shirt. No smug smile either. Just something soft in his face. Quieter.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” I muttered.

“You didn’t.”

He padded in, slow and easy, and opened a cabinet like it was his kitchen too now. In some ways, it was.

“What’s your poison?” he asked, pulling out two mugs.

“Tea.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Boring.”

“Says the man drinking chamomile.”

“I’m complex,” he said. “Layers.”

We stood side by side while the kettle boiled. Steam hissed. The silence settled again, but this time it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like a secret.

“You always do this?” I asked. “Wear people down?”

He looked at me. Not a smirk, not a tease—just held my gaze.

“Only when something’s worth breaking.”

That hung between us, thick and unspoken.

“I’m not breakable,” I said quietly.

“I didn’t say you were.”

The tea steeped. Neither of us moved.

Then: “I don’t want to be the reason you do something you’ll hate yourself for.”

I looked at him.

“That’s not how you act.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

He took his mug and walked out again, but his words stayed behind, floating in the steam.

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By *kyluke69Man
5 days ago

Gravesend

🥵loving where this is going

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By *ature boyMan
5 days ago

Erdington

Intriguing

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
5 days ago

Glasgow

Don't trust Liam one inch

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By *unfollowerMan
5 days ago

Peterborough

Liam is playing guilt trip from being showy hard man full of himself, to withdrawn yet slow and caring…he is trying to get into bed…he will fall for Liam…

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By *iverman98Man
5 days ago

EXETER

So many reasons not to, others make me think get it out of your system, I was told by a much older man years ago that love can conquer anything....I wonder...it's in your hand you beautiful scribe xx

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By *aulishorny OP   Man
5 days ago

Rugeley/Lichfield

Part 28: Echoes

That night, sleep came in fits.

A dream came, vivid and sharp—Liam, standing in the kitchen again, but closer this time. Shirtless. Still and watching. Then suddenly—touching. Not forceful. Gentle. Like he’d been invited. Like I’d said yes without a word.

His mouth, warm. His breath against my ear. My hands on his skin.

Everything in the dream moved like honey. Heavy. Unstoppable.

My hand caressing his well defined, familiar chest. Fingers brushing over hardened nipples, circling them, lightly. Hands moving down over washboard abs, his skin warm to the touch. Further down, reaching between us, finding his thr0bbing erection, touching, stroking, pulling at the silken skin. The feel of him, the shape of him, so familiar. He moaned and his lips and hands were on me, teasing, awakening, demanding. Opening me up, before placing his cock at my heat centre, pushing gently, taking me, my legs wrapped around him, my fingers digging into his back as he fucked me.

I moaned as he took me to ecstasy, my back arching. I opened my eyes and looked straight into his face, watched as his face contorted and his breath became ragged as he reached the point of no return, as with one deep and animalistic grunt, he came, spilling his seed, balls deep inside me.

I woke with a jolt, sweat-damp, heartbeat hammering.

The house was quiet. Except—

A creak outside the room.

I stood, half-dazed, opened the door.

Liam was there.

No shirt. Again. A glass of water in one hand, the other running through his hair.

We locked eyes.

Neither of us spoke.

He looked like he wanted to say something.

I looked like I might let him.

But nothing happened.

He just nodded once, barely perceptible, and turned back down the hall.

The dream still hummed under my skin.

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By *imworkMan
5 days ago

Kettering

My God, this should be made into a book

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By *kyluke69Man
5 days ago

Gravesend


"My God, this should be made into a book"

I totally agree

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By *lasgow verse 60s guyMan
5 days ago

Glasgow

Superbly written!

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By *ature boyMan
5 days ago

Erdington

Omg, will Liam have him?

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By *att_24Man
5 days ago

Aberdeen

Hope he has the will power to stay the andy his bro dangerous

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By *orfyMan
5 days ago

Aylsham

Really loving this

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By *rdiscreet327Man
4 days ago

notts

Loving every chapter of this.

It’s so enticing.

Great work op.

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By *ature bottom for funMan
4 days ago

Cumbernauld

A threesome with both brothers.......

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By *eteguy2Man
4 days ago

Ware

I hope so

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