Boy, did I want it.
"Sure, if you don't mind."
"Not a bit, sir, let me make sure it's OK with the boss. Besides I'm really hot and could use a break."
I watched him walk toward the shed. He stopped halfway there, bent down, picked up a hose with water running out of it. Though he wasn't looking at me, he faced me, and first let the water run all over his sweat plastered hair then lapped the water as it pumped out the hose. What didn't make it into his mouth combined with the water from his hair and raced down his chin and neck sucking a bit of the t-shirt to his chest. As he threw the hose down and wiped his mouth with the back of his wet gloved hand, he caught me frozen still gaping at him. Again, that quick smile, this time accompanied with a two fingered salute.
Moments later he sauntered to my truck with his t-shirt hanging out of his back pocket. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. As I was starting to suspect, the kid had enormous pecs, huge hanging slabs of meat that actually rocked sensuously as he walked.
"You don't mind my shirt off, do you? Don't want to get your seat all sweaty but in this Texas summer heat all I seem to do is sweat," he said in an almost pleading way standing outside the truck with the door open. He was a vision, standing there with those tight cut-offs, hard muscled legs growing out below them, a six pack that looked like six perfectly formed warm dinner buns waiting to be grabbed above, and with the exception of the black gloves and boots, his evenly tanned body was covered with a sheen of sweat.
"Get in here before your girlfriend sees you and jumps your bones, kid! Names Scott, what's yours?"
"Diesel," as he hopped in and shook my hand. The wet leather combined with his body heat told my brain I was holding a huge hardening dick rather than a muscleboy's fist.
"Interesting name. Actually, a pretty cool one. It fits you."
"Thanks...how do you mean it fits me?"
"I don't know...like a truck...powerful...fueled...ready to go..." I glanced at him -- legs spread, one beefy veiny arm loose at his side, the other resting on the open window ledge, and those pecs bouncing along with the rhythm of the ride.
"Never thought of it that way...a few kids at school make fun of it." I stole another glance as Diesel ran his hands through his hair pulling some sweaty loose strands off his cheeks and forehead. His biceps moved around under his skin like lazy bowling balls.
"They should be more careful what they say about you. With a build like yours, you could deck just about anyone you wanted to I bet," as I reached over and rubbed his shoulder. The sweat seeming to automatically make me start rubbing more slowly.
"Gee, thanks, mister,... thanks a lot," again, that perfect smile.
"I mean it, Diesel. Christ! You're really built. And you must be really strong. People shouldn't fuck with you -- pardon my French."
Diesel laughed and playfully punched me on the chin with his closed fist. The leather's distinctive smell and the unexpected body contact on his part forced a small grunt out of me. Diesel let his hand fall on my thigh and started to knead the muscle there.
"I think I know what language we're talkin' here. Let's fuck around a bit, Scott. I know you want to -- saw you watching me at work -- like the show I put on for you?"
He lifted his hand to my face again, began stroking it and then put his leather covered thumb slowly in my mouth. I wasn't sure what to do. Was Diesel trying to get on to me? He was a hot, sexy stud, but I wasn't sure what the kid's intentions were...