Trade: Part 4 (Patreon)

Hi everyone, here's the latest part of my story about a guy getting cucked by every tradesman who comes over to work on his house renovation. This time it's the tiler's turn.

🔨 👷🏾‍♂️ 🧰 🔧 🪚 🔩 🪛 🔨 👷🏾‍♂️ 🧰 🔧

It was after five when I got home from work, so I thought it was odd that there was still a van parked outside the house — as far as I knew tradies usually knocked off by now. As soon as I got close enough I saw the sign though, and it immediately made sense, because underneath the name Anton’s Tiling in block letters on the side of the van were the words:

For a highly capable lay.

My dick pulsed, its involuntary reaction to the knowledge of what was probably going on inside, and what had been going on for who-knows how long today. I glanced around the street, wondering how many people had seen this van today, how many had noticed the innuendo, how many had noticed the innunendo on all the others, and were forming their own theory of what was going on in my house.

I pushed the door open, and paused to listen for the telltale noises. Everything was quiet though. But when I pushed the door shut behind me Oscar’s sleepy-sounding voice called out from the bedroom, “Is that you babe?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little disappointed that I’d lost the element of surprise just in case there was something to walk in on. I put my bag down in the hallway and followed the voice to the bedroom. 

The smell of sex hit me before I even got through the door, before I saw the second naked body in the bed beside Oscar. Even though I’d been expecting to find someone I felt more thrown than expected by the scene I found myself presented with. The sheets were crumpled and strewn out of the way, clothes strewn on the floor, bottle of lube sitting on the beside table, the two of them completely naked on the bed. Oscar was pulling himself up into a sitting position, while the stranger seemed like he was only just waking up, the way he shook his head and stretched an arm, and looked at me vacantly.

“I guess we must have fallen asleep,” Oscar admitted. “Is it late?”

“About six,” I told him. “I guess that means you had a good time then.”

Oscar grinned an embarrassed grin. “Pretty good, yeah.”

“I’m James,” I said to the naked stranger in my bed, trying to stop myself from looking at his dick, which was sizeable even when flaccid. “I’m assuming you’re Anton.”

“Hey,” he said groggily. 

“So is the slogan accurate?” I asked Oscar.

“Huh?” he replied, seeming confused.

“Is he a highly capable lay?”

“Oh.” Oscar chuckled. “I can confirm it’s accurate."

“Shame I got home too late to judge for myself. I would have liked to have seen it.” I have to admit it felt strange and quite embarrassing to admit that in front of Anton, but it also felt kind of liberating. 

“Damn,” Oscar said. “I’d like to help you out with that, but we’ve been fucking for literally hours so I don’t think either of us is up for another round. Right?”

“I could probably go again,” Anton said.

“Seriously? Still?”

Anton shrugged. “Why not.” He sounded completely unbothered, like he was accepting a slice of pizza rather than committing to another performance.

“In that case…” Anton leaned over and kissed him. He laid a hand on his chest, grazed it across his left nipple, ran it gently down Anton’s body and traced a finger along the length of his cock. It responded immediately, coming to life in seconds, expanding and straightening and lifting off his body. Oscar brought his hand up to his mouth, spit on it, and returned it to Anton’s dick, wrapping his hand around it as it became fully erect, slick head emerging from beneath his foreskin.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling my own dick start to tent in my trousers. I couldn’t believe my luck. I sat there, silently watching, and Oscar started to jack Anton off, his other hand following the muscular contours of his chest and torso. Anton stroked Oscar’s dick in return, which was hardening but not completely erect, presumably due to how much use it had already had today. Anton’s hand moved further, rubbing Oscar’s balls, massaging his hole, making him squirm and moan. I wondered how loose it was already, how much of a pounding it had taken this afternoon. Two fingers disappeared inside him, then a third, and Oscar let out a blissful moan and ground against Anton’s hand, holding his dick tighter and stroking him harder.

Anton grabbed Oscar and in a single motion rolled him up onto his own body so that Oscar was straddling him. From where I was I could see Anton’s dick, shiny with precum, grazing back and forth across Oscar’s puckered hole while they made out some more.

“Lube?” Oscar asked, leaning for the bottle.

“I don’t think you need any,” Anton replied. He held up his hand, the one that he’d had inside Oscar, to show just how slick and wet it was with what I could only assume was Anton’s load from earlier. He rubbed his cum-coated fingers across Oscar’s hole, and lined up the tip of his cock so it was pressing ever so gently against it. And he stayed perfectly still while Oscar slowly lowered himself down on it, greedy hole swallowing every inch of Anton’s thick cock. 

“Ohhh god,” Oscar groaned as he slid down, empaled on it. When he’d taken every inch, and was sitting on Anton’s hips, he paused, took several deep breaths. “I don’t know how much I can take,” he said, his voice a mix of pleasure and discomfort and what sounded like a bit of admiration of what Anton’s cock was capable of making him feel. 

“That’s okay,” said Anton. “Just take it slow, take it easy. And tell me if you want to stop.”

“Uhuh,” Anton said, nodding his head. Then, “I don’t want to stop. No fucking way.”

He began to buck up and down, slowly and carefully at first, whispers of “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” with every rhythm. It was clear he was starting to relax into it though, and he started riding him a little faster and a litter harder, until within minutes he was bouncing up and down on Anton’s dick, full jockey style.

“Oh fuck!” Oscar moaned. “Fuck it feels so amazing. Your dick is fucking magic.” 

I felt those words physically. He’d never told me my dick was magic before. It was like a punch in my stomach and and sharp yank on my dick at the same time, making me feel humiliated and turned on like nothing else. I unzipped my trousers and started stroking my own dick, my grip like a vice, tugging in the same rhythm as Oscar bouncing up and down on Anton’s magic dick.

“Oh fuck,” Oscar gasped. “Fuck, I’m close. I’m real close. I’m...” He stopped mid-moan. He lifted off Anton’s cock then slammed his ass down on it one last time. And he let out a howl like I’d never heard from him before, and he threw his head back, and all the muscles in his back tensed up. 

I wasn’t anywhere near as loud. Just let out a cluster of shallow breaths but was otherwise completely silent while I blew my load all over the bed-sheets. Didn’t mean the orgasm wasn’t one of the most intense I’d had in years though.

“Whoa, that’s weird,” Oscar said, pulling me out of the haze of my own climax long enough to wonder what he was talking about. “Did I not even cum?”

“Nah,” said Anton. “It looked like you were but nothing came out.”

“Whoa fuck,” said Oscar. “I definitely had an orgasm. I guess there was nothing left. I guess you’d already fucked all the cum out of me.”

Another thing he’d never said to me in all the years we’d been married.

He rolled off Anton and collapsed onto the bed, leaving Anton’s dick wet and glistening and standing tall. Oscar asked him, “Do you want me to…”

“Nah it’s all good,” Anton replied.

Oscar seemed almost relieved. I guess he’d had quite the workout already, and who knows how long this guy would last. “I guess you can always give me another load tomorrow,” he said.

“Tomorrow?” I said. “I thought the tiling was a one-day job.”

“Yeah, it is,” Anton said. “But I only got in half a day of tiling today. If that.”

Oscar looked at me guiltily. “My fault, I distracted him. But it means he’s going to have to come back and finish the job tomorrow.”