Hard Labor

It was the summer before my Senior year of High school and I had just turned 18. I was working for several neighbors mowing lawns and weeding in hopes of saving up enough to buy a car before school started. The last thing I wanted was to be 18 and taking the bus every day. I lived in an upscale neighborhood and I suppose one could say that my family was rich. My father could have easily bought me a car but insisted that I earn my money the way he had. He was from a working class background and had struggled to make it on his own and build his fortune. I was a hard worker and my neighbors kept me busy. I spent 5 days a week working in the hot sun and it showed in my body. I was lean at 130 pounds and only 5’7’ but had developed definition in recent months. At night I would often stand in front of my bathroom mirror and examine myself. I was becoming quite proud of the way I looked. My hair was short and bleached by the sun and my skin was golden tan. My chest and abdomen were sprouting crisp lines and small bubbles of muscle. My forearms were increasing in size and the veins were becoming more prominent.

My biceps were becoming round and separating from the bulge of my shoulder. I had a boyish face with round blue eyes and full red lips. I had to admit that I had a fantastic smile and people told me that quite often.
If I felt very proud I would slide my briefs down in the front and pull out my penis. I would let it hang straight down and stare at it until it got hard. I had not seen many other boys penises but I was sure that mine was large. I had measured it and found that it was just over 7 inches. When I was able to glance at other boys in the locker room I found that my flaccid penis was at least an inch longer than theirs. I would imagine that other boys would have showed off their penis but I was very shy. I would turn my back to the other boys and quickly change my shorts before gym class. I guess I was afraid to let them get a good look because I wasn’t sure what they would say about the fact that I was uncircumcised. I had seen one other boy in the locker room who was uncircumcised but he had pulled his foreskin almost all the way back so it bunched up around the base of the head. I imagined that the other boys didn’t even notice that he was different. I could easily slide my foreskin back in the same fashion but I had so much that it would not stay there. When I was flaccid there was about an inch and a half of loose wrinkled foreskin hanging past the tip of my penis in a meaty tube.

I was not ashamed of my foreskin. I was just shy in general. I would have been afraid to be very different in any other way as well. I actually found myself fascinated by the way it looked. I would stand in front of the mirror and watch it slide back as the head became engorged with blood. I would gently finger the very tip and found myself salivating from the sensation. When my penis was fully erect I would gently tug on the foreskin and then let it go and watch my penis bob up and down like a spring. Even then I had full coverage of the head and about a half an inch of excess at the end. I would stand there for up to an hour gently playing with my foreskin and even then knew that I was lucky to have it. At the end I would slide it all the way forward and hold onto it with my fingers while I stroked the shaft with my other hand. Sometimes I would retract it just before I shot and other times I would let it fill up with cum before oozing out the end.

My parents were away that summer. My father had business in Europe and my mother went along to shop and visit museums. I had no siblings so the house was mine. My mother was constantly renovating so there were work crews on the property almost every day. I had the task of opening the gate each morning for them or letting them into the house if need be. We were having a terrace built outside of our kitchen and it was almost done so the crew was thinning and some days it was down to one or two men. I knew most of them by name as I was often hard at work in our gardens or mowing our lawn before I worked around the neighborhood. Many of them were older and out of shape but I had begun to notice a few of the younger ones when they took their shirts off in the heat. One was probably 30 with dark hair and eyes. He looked to be latin or Italian and had a beefy but defined body. Another was even more interesting to me. His name was Matt. I guessed he was in his late 30’s but one never would have known by his extremely tight body. I would often eat my lunch in the breakfast room in order to have a good view of him working outside. He was blond but had a closely shaved head. He had bright blue eyes which were starting to crease at the edges. His face was very chiseled and his jaw line was quite square. I wasn’t sure but I thought I noticed him looking at me on several occasions.

I would take in every inch of his rippled body as he lifted rocks or pushed a wheelbarrow of cement. I didn’t think much of my curiosity at that time. It seemed to me that I had found a physical role model and just wanted to look like him some day. Of course he was over 6 feet tall and in that way I would not match him but his definition and mass were inspiring me to work harder. Any chance I got I would do things the hard way. I would push the lawnmower up and down hills instead of sideways or just move rocks back and forth across the yard for no reason.