He shared a house with his two teenage sons, somewhere on the outskirts of town, his wife having sadly died a few years ago; this much I had learnt from this taciturn man.Of course I had a crush on him. Nothing serious, just enough to look forward to his irregular visits, supply me with a few hopeless fantasies for those early morning wanks. Gay porn I’d caught him one day when I was mucking around in there and had spied him through the Venetian blinds on the back window, happily invisible to him whilst he was on full display to me. I’d noticed him downing his clippers and removing his gloves, throwing them carelessly onto the lawn before undoing the cord on his pants and pushing them down to his knees, revealing a very beautiful cock and heavy smooth balls (did he shave them I wondered, and if so for whom?), all framed within an extraordinarily thick dark bush. He was bit of a scruff-bag really, in a hippyish sort of way (which is just the way I like my scruff-bags); dreadlocks down to his shoulders ( I could almost feel them brushing against my face), ring through one nostril (what would it feel like on my tongue), short scraggly beard (so nice against
