Characters:
Ren Fausto 18
Wulf Rosenthal 20
Kinks Included: Armpits, musk, tank tops, hand jobs, sweat
It’s the summer before my freshman year of college and I’m left to combat the sweltering heat invading my parents’ house. Mom and Dad are on a two-day business trip in the mountains, and I get to experience temperatures to what I assume hell burns at. I can practically see the AC unit shrugging its shoulders. At any rate, since it’s my last summer before college, I’m determined to make the most of each day before the harsh weight of academia crushes my spirit. Even if it is 97॰.
I find that moving around keeps me cooler than sitting still, so I walk in and out of each room of the house, assessing which one might be the coolest. I also repeatedly count a small stack of cash in my hand as that is about the most mental effort I can muster in this kind of heat. 10, 20, 30, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40. 40 dollars. My mom gave the $40 before she and Dad left as payment for the lawn care guy who’s scheduled to visit today. After passing through the kitchen, living room, both bathrooms, and all 3 bedrooms, I have determined that the coolest room in the house is none of them and I am destined to roast alive.
Just before submitting to the heat, I hear tires rumble over the gravel driveway. I look out the window and see a pickup truck pull in with a push mower, weed whacker, and other various tools secured in the back. I slip on my shoes and head out the front door. As I approach the truck, the driver pushes open the door and steps out of the vehicle. He’s about 6ft tall, fairly muscular but not super toned. Short black hair and beard, and covered in a decent layer of body hair. He’s wearing a white wifebeater, gray basketball shorts, worker boots, and a blue backward cap. He starts to climb up the back of his truck as I approach him, and that’s when I recognize him. That bastard, Wulf Rosenthal.
“Hey, don’t I know you?” I say, holding out his payment of $40, dawning a dismissive demeanor.
Wulf grabs the cash and pockets it. “Thanks… Yeah, didn’t we have class together? What was your name?”
“‘Alfred Shitcock,’ don’t you remember?” I say with a scowl.
Wulf’s eyes widen with realization, and his cheeks turn red. “Oh shit… Reynold. I am so sorry. Look, I am not like that anymore. I realize I made your first two years of high school a living hell-”
“Your graduation was the best day of my life,” I say, looking in any direction other than him. Wulf rubs the back of his head in embarrassment. “However,” I continue, my stance softening, realizing there’s no point in holding an adult accountable for being an asshole in high school, “In hindsight ‘Alfred Shitcock’ is pretty clever.”
A look of relief washes over Wulf as he realizes his shitty nickname didn’t traumatize me in high school. “Well,” Wulf says with a chuckle, “We good?” he asks, sticking out his hand.
“Yeah, we’re good?” I reply with an eye roll and a smile. I reach out and grab Wulf’s hand, shaking it to seal the truce. “Hey, Wulf?” I ask.
“Yeah, Reynold?” Wulf says in reply.
“Oh you can just call me Ren, dude,” I explain. “But I was just gonna ask, it’s hotter in my house than outside, so is it cool if I hang outside while you do your work?”
“Oh yeah, sure thing. Just, uh, don’t get in the way.” He points at the lawnmower and laughs awkwardly.
With that, I head back toward the house and sit in a lawn chair on the back deck. I watch as Wulf pulls all his tools to the backyard. He checks the lawnmower’s fuel tank and after ensuring it is full, he puts on a pair of headphones and begins cutting the grass. As Wulf labors away in the backyard, his tank top starts to cling to his body with sweat. I can see the shape of his fuzzy pecs and abs. I definitely don’t remember him being this hot in high school.
After mowing about half the lawn, Wulf heads towards me sitting on the back deck. “Hey, Ren. I guess I didn’t pack enough water today,” he explains, ”do you mind-”
“No, not at all. Come on in,” I say. I slide open the back door and head into the kitchen with Wulf following close behind. After refilling the filter pitcher, I pour a glass of water for both of us and set them on the kitchen island. Wulf picks up his glass and chugs it all in one go. With his arm raised to drink, I get a clear view of his pit hair, a full bush slick with sweat. A gentle whiff of his musk floats to my side of the kitchen. Between the smell of his raw masculinity and the sight of his wifebeater clinging to his body, I can’t do anything to stop the growing bulge. I figure any attempt to hide it would only make it more obvious so I stay still and pretend I don’t notice my tenting shorts. “You want another glass?” I ask.
“No thanks, I better get back to work,” Wulf explains. His eyes momentarily dart down and back up. My face turns red, as he obviously just saw the outline of my growing shaft. He doesn’t say anything and heads back outside. I follow him out and sit back in my chair while he continues his job. For whatever reason, I felt like staying inside would be more awkward than continuing to act as if nothing happened. However, I can’t help but stare as Wulf toils away on his mower. My penis only gets harder as I watch but Wulf is so focused on what he’s doing I doubt he’ll notice. Plus, the line of sight between him and my crotch is obscured by the back deck railing. So maybe if I rub my bulge a little bit he won’t notice. I slowly glide my hand across the tent in my mesh shorts. I think back to earlier when Wulf was drinking water, his hairy armpit, and sweaty body. A small spot of precum forms in my shorts right at the tip of my dick. For the next hour or so, I edge myself in my shorts while Wulf finishes up the yard. I quickly stand up though when I see him heading back toward my direction. With a swift motion, I tuck my erection into my waistband and pull down my shirt to cover the tip. The precum on my shorts blends in with my sweat so hopefully he won’t notice. “Hey, man. What’s up?” I ask.
“I don’t have to be at my next job for a while,” Wulf explains, “mind if I just hang here until I gotta go?”
“Sure, I don’t mind. You want another glass of water?” I ask.
“You read my mind.”
Once again Wulf follows me back to the kitchen for some water but after pouring our glasses, I take the pitcher and lead us back to the back porch.
“It’s cooler out here,” I explain.
“You know, I noticed that,” Wulf says. “What, is the AC not…?”
“Yeah,” I begin, “our AC is ancient I think. It’s been like this every summer since forever but my parents aren’t usually here during the hotter months due to work so they don’t ever really notice.”
“You never asked your parents to fix it?”
A subtle look of surprise flashes on my face. “Well, no, I’ve tried. They don’t really have a knack for listening. Or, I don’t know, caring really. It’s a work-first kind of relationship with Mom and Dad, this house is more of a pitstop to them so…” I trail off, not understanding why I’m sharing so much. “So yeah, the AC isn’t getting fixed anytime soon. But, I’m off to college soon so it doesn’t matter that much.”
Wulf nods his head in understanding. Isn’t there some statistic that bullies come from broken homes? Maybe he has his fair share of familial strife. Or maybe he’s just polite. “Oh college? Which university are you thinking?" Wulf asks.
“ESU,” I answer. “I’m already enrolled, actually. I move into my dorm in like a month.”
“ESU?” Wulf repeats. “No way, I go to ESU! I’m on the wrestling team. You might’ve heard of me…” Wulf puts on a smug grin and flexes his arms, revealing both of his pits. I can see his sweat drip down from his armpits into his tank top, soaking it even further. “Nah, I’m joking,” he says, gesturing his hand as if to wave away the cockiness. “But dude, you’ll love ESU. They’ve got all kinds of clubs and events. It’s great. And uh, they’re very… accepting too. Which is cool.”
“Accepting?” I ask. “Oh you mean, like, accepting of queer people?”
Wulf’s cheeks grow red with embarrassment. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to-” he stammers, “I just mean- I’m gay. I just thought I’d mention that the campus was accepting. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume…”
“No, it’s okay. I mean, I am gay. It’s just that… I wasn’t out yet when you graduated so how did you know?” I ask.
“Oh… well I…” Wulf struggles to phrase his answer. “I guess, earlier, when we first got water, I guess you weren’t exactly hiding it."
My face immediately burns hot. It’s bad enough he saw my bulge, but did he actually have to point it out? “Oh! I am so sorry, I just. I-”
“No, no. It’s fine, dude. I don’t care. I mean, it’s not like my dick was particularly soft that moment either. I’m not gonna lie, you've grown up well since I graduated. It’s part of why I didn’t recognize you at first.” My dick presses harder into my waistband. Wulf continues, “I uh, saw you playing with your bulge while I was mowing the grass. I thought it was hot. What if… I wanted to see it?”
“See what? My dick?” You know, this is not how I pictured my day going, but if this is how the universe decides I should find closure with my high school bully, then so be it. “I mean, sure. But I’ve been stewing in this heat all day. It’s gonna smell ripe.”
“You think I care? I know I smell like a grizzly bear after working outside all day, but I’ll have a heatstroke in anything more modest than this,” he says, tugging at the chest of his sweaty tank. "You're fine, trust me.”
“Alright,” I say, "if you insist." I stand up and tug down on my shorts. My dick sways outward and settles into its natural erect position. A string of precum falls from my tip and onto my shorts. Wulf stares at my shaft in satisfaction.
“Listen, why don’t I help you finish what you started earlier, and then I’ll head out. How’s that sound?”
I consider Wulf’s answer, but I’m so turned on at this point that “no” as an option never crosses my mind. “Uh, sure,” I answer, partly in disbelief.
Wulf sits down in a chair and spreads his legs. “Come here,” he commands and then gestures for me to sit on his thigh. I take a seat on his leg, and my boner rests on his thigh, pointing at his stomach. He grips my penis, angling it upward, and begins to stroke. More precum oozes out of my tip and pools onto his gray shorts. I reach my hands up and play with his nipples through the fabric of his tank top. He begins to gently thrust his hips and stroke me a little faster.
“Will this help?” he asks me as he raises his free arm and leans my face right into his wet shaggy armpit. I lap up the sweat from his pit hair. The pungent smell of his pit invades my nose, a bitter and muggy stench that I know has been brewing all day. Wulf leans in close to my ear and whispers, “I want you to cum on my tank top.” An agonizing pressure builds up in my shaft, and after a few more strokes, my dick erupts.
White ropes eject from my penis and glaze the front of Wulf’s wifebeater. He wipes my cum from his hand by rubbing it off on his shirt. I pull back my head from his armpit and wipe his pit sweat from my face, and then I dismount his thigh. Wulf’s tank top and shorts are covered in my cum but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“How was that?” he asks me, gathering his things before heading back to his truck.
“That was-” I say between breaths, “really good. Where did that come from?”
“See, Ren, here’s the thing,” Wulf begins. “Those two years back in high school, calling you names and pushing you into the wall and shit like that. I am not proud of it, and I absolutely have no excuse for treating you like that. But, there is a reason. God, this is such a bullshit cliche, but back then, I had a crush on you. I didn’t know where to put those feelings because that kind of thing didn’t fly in my house. So what did I do? I took it out on you and that was fucked up of me. I am genuinely sorry.”
I sit back in my chair and laugh. “Apology accepted, Wulf.”
“Here,” Wulf extends a piece of paper to me. “Once you’re up at ESU, if have any questions, need help moving in, or anything like that, hit me up. I’ll be happy to help you out.”
I pull the paper from his fingers and unfold it to find 10 digits hastily scribbled across the wrinkles. “Sure thing,” I say, accepting his offer.
Wulf places the few tools in his truck and hops up into the driver's seat. Still covered in my cum, he drives off to his next job. I place his number in my pocket and head back inside.