Summer Gardening

By SiliconDog

It was the kind of afternoon that LA generates without thinking: heated sultry air that won't move no matter how high you turn up the air conditioner. I didn't have one in my truck and it wouldn't have mattered. Back then in the '70s I was working for a greenhouse and was making my last delivery for the day, and the back of the pickup was filled with bags of cement, fertilizer and a few trees for a delivery in a neighborhood where I would double the black population just driving through.

The address was a big gloomy 1920s-style house with tall fences on either side, with the shutters drawn. Its neighbors looked the same and in the heat, there was no one on the sidewalks or driving and I could concentrate on backing the truck carefully into the driveway and through into the rear yard. I put the engine into park and killed the ignition, looking surly at the two red wires in the dashboard where my eight-track had been until yesterday. I was fingering them when the truck gave a vicious lurch. The load was shifting! I tore out of the cab and ran back to the rear of the truck.

The first thing I saw was a back -- a great, tanned V-shaped set of lats that stretched a faded olive tank top until its seams showed. Under the tank top two thick mounds of butt ground against each other under green gym shorts. Behind the guy I could see one of the trees I was driving being gently carried down, his arms wrapped around the base. The truck rocked back, the tree's weight now in this giant's arms. He squatted, keg-sized thighs swelling out under the shorts, and put the tree onto the yard.

"Hello, I'm Kim" the giant had turned to me. I looked (up) at an Asiatic face brown from sun and a black buzz-cut. A few days without shaving had left him the starters of a goatee and moustache, the only hair on his torso. I could see a few wrinkles around his eyes and maybe little whitening in his face hair, but all the rest of his skin was brown, clean, tight and hard. Six feet six easy, and a neck as hard and wide as a fire hydrant. The tank top held itself to his body with two spaghetti-thin straps, over planes of sunburned muscle. Two small but sharp nipples poked through the top's worn cotton.

"I'm Terry" I answered, putting my hand forward on autopilot. The back yard was hot in the sun, and my own head was getting hotter. My long dark fingers vanished into his paw. "I thought I was losing the load for a second there" I said, tilting my head towards the truck, feeling thick warm callused fingers and palms

"Sorry if I surprised you, but I just wanted to start unloading that stuff while the sun was out."

I saw the big tree he had unloaded with his bare hands. It had taken a forklift to put that mother onto the truck an hour ago. "You did that by yourself? What kind of wheaties do you eat in the morning?" Lame, but I just wanted to start him talking. Even though I'm not usually hot for his type of guy, my heart felt like a magnet that his body was tugging at. He smiled, shy but with confidence. "Hey, man, that's not much. Check this out." He leaned down at the back of the truck, and lay onto his back. He scooted his body under the truck until his head was under the rear bumper. He then swung his feet up and around until they were against the bottom of the bumper, his knees at a level with his own ears. One long inhale, then he squatted in reverse, and the rear of the truck squeaked on its shocks, groaned against its cargo and then lifted into the air three, six, twelve inches and more as those great legs straightened under the truck. Just before his knees would have locked, he stopped and the truck bobbed down again. Then he did it again, the cement and fertilizer bags filling the truck rustling with the tilting. Four more times those legs lifted the truck, and then he let it back down onto its tires. He rolled over and got back to his feet. His shorts were bunched very strange, thighs trying to pop through those shorts, a coke can-sized and shaped cock rolling and thumping between those legs and the thin fabric. I caught myself before trying to decide if his balls were big lemons or small oranges.

"Shit!" I shook my head, shaking his hand again.

"It's part of how I got the job here" he explained. There was a trace of accent and an echo of thick chest muscle. "The owner" -- he tilted his head back to the house -- "doesn't want any equipment or engines running while she gets the yard fixed up." He explained that the owner wasn't home, and was traveling. Having just bought the house, she had hired Kim to repair the back yard, which had been neglected for years. He then shrugged, huge traps flipping effortlessly up and down around his neck. "She says it would keep her neighbors awake or something. I dunno. The fence" the very high thick fence around the yard, so no one could see out or in, "would keep the sound down, but I didn't give her any arguments. Work is work."

"What about that?" I asked, pointing towards the back of the yard. A dead tree trunk stood thirty feet high, its limbs cut off. "How are you gonna get that thing out of the ground with no machines?"

Kim looked me up and down. His smile, which seemed inlaid into his broad face, widened more. "Like this".

He walked over to the tree. It might be dead, but it had been big while it was alive and there was still chunks of tree bark clinging to its sides. Kim squatted down before it, wrapping his huge arms around the trunk until he could just close his hands on the other side. He then squatted down, like a weightlifter psyching himself up, puffing sharply. His butt was almost touching the ground and his hips and legs were tight against the trunk; he turned his face towards me and smiled.

With a sharp breath his legs leapt into veined relief as his arms clamped around the wood. From somewhere under the ground I could hear a great deep ripping sound and the tree swayed slightly. My mouth opened as I watched his arms, the tendons of his forearm grinding like pencils, sink into the side of the tree with a thick crack of yielding wood. His lats seemed to spread like a bat's wings against the tree and the first seam on the shirt split open. His feet sunk a few inches into the earth and then stopped as the tree's great roots began to rise against his strength, and the trunk swayed more. Encased in a huge mound of compacted dirt, the tree's base was pulled into the light, and I heard the last cracking and twisting as he pulled the tree free from its root system. He lifted it out of its hole and let fall, the crash rattling my boots.

If he had been huge before, he was now a towering riot of muscle with a few slivers of bark clinging to the craggy tendons of his forearm and in the fabric of his tank top. I could see a light shuddering of his huge torso and legs as blood flowed back into his rubbery muscles. Fingering the split seams in his top, he reached behind his neck and pulled it off, but it fell apart under his fingers and instead he used it like a rag to wipe off bark and splintered wood from the great shields of his pecs and the deep mounds of his belly.

I felt my own cock swelling down my pants leg with the sound of the tree ripping out of the ground; now standing before me, Kim glanced down at my jeans and asked:

"Wanna beer?" I smiled.

We walked together back towards his van parked behind the garage. He opened the rear door for me, and a blast of dry superheated air shot out as if from an oven. An arm that felt like a phone pole gently lifted me up and into the rear, which was just sheets on top of a mattress. Kim jumped up behind me and closed the door. It was almost completely dark and I could barely see him above me like a thundercloud. I felt rather than saw him take me in his arms, lift me into the air like a puppy and then his nose sniffed at my sweat-soaked T-shirt, rubbing back and forth. Then he turned me gently in the air so his great head could reach to my armpit where he snuffled even louder, his gasping and my gasping in rhythm. The hot dry air was like a sauna as he shifted my torso to one of his arms so he could reach for my belt and jeans, strong thick fingers swiftly undoing both. My cock sprung loose when he peeled the jeans down to the mattress, and he tightened his grip on my body.

We were both sweating hard now, me in mid-air with him stripping off my T-shirt and me reaching down with my feet to pull his shorts down his hips. Once he got my T-shirt off I shoved the soggy fabric right into his gasping face as my feet made first contact with the huge cock swaying loose from his shorts. He had gone to my other armpit while I tugged with my feet until we were both totally naked. As easily as twirling a baton he flipped me over until he swallowed my cock in one swift lunge of his head and we both lay down onto the mattress in the near-total dark, only hearing and sweating. Going for his cock, I got first one hand almost around it, and then the second hand almost around it, leaving my mouth to (almost) get the head in.

Closing my eyes against the stinging sweat, I gasped and stretched until Kim's head fit past my lips. Kim rattled my own stiff boner inside his mouth like a dog shaking a rat, quickly shifting down to chowing down on both my balls in one swoop, sucking them until they ached, then returned to taking me down to my hilt. I could feel his nose probing around my balls and ass and felt his gasps and moans. He rolled on top of me and both of my hands tried to support his weight and keep his cock from nailing my head to the mattress. When I felt his sweaty fingers starting to pry open my own ass, I lost it and unloaded both of my balls into his mouth. Without changing his rhythm he moaned and sucked my whole cock down to its base, fingers kneading my ass.

Without warning my mouth turned blood hot with his come. I tried to crush his cock and keep up with his load, but it felt like a piece of steam machinery under my fingers, hot and sweaty and hard as iron. I felt ribbons of come leak from my mouth down my cheeks and I heard my blood roaring in my ears. I don't know how long that lasted, but the next thing I remember clearly was Kim lying next to me side by side, a thick arm holding me to his body. In the dim light of the steaming van I could admire Kim's smiling face and a sweat-soaked body that could have pinned Hercules. A foot of cock lay over his thigh leaking precum into the sweat that poured from both of our bodies.

He tousled my afro. "Hey, man, that was just the top of the first inning. Wanna stay for the game?"

I weakly shook my head. "I gotta work tomorrow" I said weakly.

"I'll clean you up" he promised, and carried me like a kitten out of the van.

It was almost dark outside, and starting to cool. We were alone in the fenced yard and the neighborhood was still and quiet. Putting me down with his hand, he whispered into my ear: "surprise!" and with the other hand, turned a hose onto me. The blast of cold water almost killed me - I yelped and struggled but in his arm's grip I could only yell as the hose washed the sweat and come off of my body. Kim was laughing as he lifted me up into the air to soak my cock, and then wash his loads out of my hair.

"My turn" I yelled and grabbed the hose out of his hand and turned it onto him. He stood just stock still and arched his head back, letting me wash down his giant body. When I shot the cold water onto his balls and cock, he just smiled and closed his eyes. After a moment, under the torrent of cold water I could watch his cock start to swell against the icy blast. I shut off the water and he toweled us both off, me getting into my sweaty jeans and him into the gym shorts.

We walked back to my truck his heavy fingers clamped over my other shoulder. The rest of my delivery to Kim, the mounds of fertilizer and concrete bags, still lay in the truck.

I sighed and asked him "How long will it take you to unload all of that stuff?" He just walked to the front of the pickup truck and reached down to hold the bumper in his arms. With one great heave, he deadlifted the front end of the truck into the air, and the bags of fertilizer and cement all slid from the tilting truck onto the ground. His shoulders swelling like two football helmets he shrugged, and the last few dropped off the truck. He carefully returned the truck to the ground.

"I'll call your store tomorrow, and you can deliver the rest of the order" Kim promised, smiling. "I'll call the order in the afternoon, so you can drop it off on your way home." Now it was my turn to smile. •

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