Nothing serious, just enough to look forward to his irregular visits, supply me with a few hopeless fantasies for those early morning wanks. Gay sex He stood with his hands on his hips, letting the water cascade from his soft cock like a garden hose, puddling in the grass and dripping down the retaining wall like a fragrant water feature. Some of the drips from his hood trickled down onto his scrunched up pants, but he didn’t seem to mind.Enjoying himself, he took his cock in his hand and waved it about like a sprinkler before holding it up (was it getting hard?) and watching as the piss arced like a fountain at Versailles, a few drops even splashing against the window. If he caught me looking too intently at him or (heaven forbid!) trying to make out the line of his cock in his baggy pants, he never made a fuss or shifted uncomfortably, and I did my best to be discreet and respect his boundaries.I will confess, however, that I did like watching him piss, which he did on the grassed area at the back of the garage quite often. He licked his fingers, tasting his piss before putting his gloves back on and resuming work. I dreamt that night of stealing
