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| One afternoon stuck in traffic my lover was fiddling with the
car radio and tuned into a Dodgers game. Seeing my grin and the
boner growing in my jeans, he looked cross-wise at me and asked "Do
you have a crush for Mike Piazza that I should worry about?" It
wasn't that but it's just that even after twenty years, whenever I
hear a baseball game on the radio, I think back to Kim.
The summer after I graduated from high school, I worked nights as a DJ at a downtown club. One Monday in June I woke up in the early afternoon to the sound of the Dodgers' game playing on the radio from the house yard next door. While most of the houses in our part of the neighborhood had fences or high shrubs, my family shared the driveway with the house next door so I could see right in from my bedroom on the second floor.
I remembered the neighbor had mentioned to my father that he was hiring someone to clean out and tear down the old garage behind his house to make way for a garden. I could see an old pickup truck in front of the garage and when I saw its driver walk out of the garage, I started getting hard right there!
I didn't know if it was culture shock or naivete, but before then I never associated Asians with both size and strength. On my bedroom wall across from John Travolta was Bruce Lee, but I had always felt Lee was a little scrawny for my tastes. And in East Los Angeles in the mid-seventies, there just weren't many Asians around period, much less Koreans.
This guy was way over six feet tall, in faded cut-off jeans slung low over his fatless hips, the muscles of his thighs bulged around the legs, making the cut-offs fit like a bikini. His tanned and hairless upper body swelled around a faded tank top which was cut off above a six pack that was probably an eight pack if I could see below his cut-offs. He had a brush cut like he was in the Marines, and a flat broad face that showed an age from either mid- twenties up to maybe forty.
I watched him carry out a big scarred refrigerator, the fridge bobbing up and down in his arms as if it was styrofoam. I could only see two big tanned hands clamped on its side and broad callused feet sticking out of the sides and bottom. With a flip, the fridge flew up and onto the pickup with a hollow boom.
As I watched from my bedroom he cleaned out the garage, carrying the junk that had accumulated over the years and dumping it into his pickup. In the summer heat, a thin layer of sweat glistened over the muscles of his back which ground into each other as he worked. But on him the sweat didn't bead but rather it spread across his skin like a polish over the writhing muscles of his body.
He disappeared into the garage and I could hear something heavy shift around, and a second later I saw him carry a battered old pool table out into the driveway. The tank top was dark with his sweat, which I imagined I could smell as he pumped up under the table's weight. With a gentle thump he placed the heavy pool table on the pavement, looking back and forth between the big table and his pickup truck and then seeming to make up his mind.
As I watched, he stood stock still before the table, making a knife of his right hand. The tendons of his wrist swelled into cables and the vein that ran down his biceps swelled from his shoulder into his fist. In a blur he snapped his hand up above his shoulders and down into the center of the table! The pool table broke in two under his fist in a loud boom of splintering oak. He tossed the two halves of the table into the back of his truck.
Next up was an old metal beer keg he casually carried out of the garage in one hand. He swung the keg up in front of his chest, clamping both hands on its side. His lats and shoulders swelled out and up like wings as the keg crumpled under his arms. His fingers kept folding the keg more and more into itself with a crackling of tortured metal until it was no larger than a basketball of crushed steel. And holding it like a basketball, he playfully tossed it onto the top of the heap on his pickup truck with a jump shot, got into the truck and drove away.
He put on a show like that for the rest of the week. Every afternoon he drove in, and worked with the ball game on the radio. I watched from my bedroom as he worked by himself, the cut-offs dark with his sweat. For a few hours each day he cleaned out the garage, carting away the old junk in his pickup. But later that week, after he left, I saw something on the fence next to the garage that made me even harder. He had left his sweaty tank top draped on the fence! When I saw that, my feet decided for me; I went outside.
That summer both my mom and dad worked during the day, so I was (almost) alone in the house, and my sister usually hung around with her friends in the next block. If I wasn't worried about my guy coming back in the truck, I was very worried about getting caught by my little sister. I wasn't ready (yet) to tell them how I felt towards men but I knew how my sister would handle it. She would be totally cool and only tell one or two hundred of her closest friends. After that, I could tag it on the side of City Hall. I had just grabbed the tank top and turned around, when I saw him in front of me.
"Hi! I was looking for that" he said. He had only a slight accent, but in an otherwise impassive face his eyes smiled at me. Wearing only the short cut-offs I tried not to gape at the plates of his hairless chest that bulged his nipples down over his belly.
I put out my hand. "I'm Edouard."
"Kim." His hand was warm, slightly slick with sweat and hard with calluses under the steel of his hand. We shook hands a little longer than I expected, our eye contact lingering.
We walked over to the pickup truck and sat on the gate. The truck's shocks groaned and the truck tilted towards him as he sat down.
"I do odd jobs like this when I'm not working out over in Venice at Gold's." He unconsciously twitched his biceps while I tried to keep my mind on anything but my hardon waking up in my baggy sweatpants. "I'm over there in the morning, working out with Arnold and the rest of the guys. They say he's gonna be a big movie star soon, and I guess they're right." He paused. "But he's not that tough."
"When I finish tearing down that garage, I'm gonna put a garden in its place. This sort of job is great, you know? Most of my work is gardening, so for brute force stuff like cleaning this junk out, I can really work out. Like this."
He reached behind us into the truck and grabbed an old Los Angeles phone book, three inches thick. Crushing his hands onto the book, the veins and tendons on his hands swelled and his fingers dug into the phone book's paper. Then, with a growl that turned into a purr, he tore the phone book in two! He tossed the two halves into the back of the truck.
"Wow!" Lame, but that's all I could trust my voice for.
"Feel this." This time, he reached back and came back with an golf ball. "Edouard, did you see that movie, Goldfinger?" he asked.
"I saw it on TV" I answered.
"And remember Dr. Goldfinger's Korean bodyguard, Oddjob? What he did to the golf ball?"
"Yeah. But that was the movies."
"This isn't." His right hand clamped over the ball. "Come on, Edouard, this is real life. Feel this."
I reached out to his hand. When I started to feel his skin, his fist swelled around the ball, and from his shoulder down his biceps to the forearms, I could see heavy muscle swelling under tanned hairless skin. After only a second, I heard a faint pop under his fist, then a crunching sound as his fingers ground the ball. He opened his hand and the crushed ball looked like a car had run over it!
As he showed me his power he had leaned over towards me on the gate of the truck. His elbow brushed against my elbow, and I decided to lean lightly back.
"Do your parents work during the day?" he asked.
"Yeah, but they're not home right now."
"And your sister isn't home either."
A small part of my head clicked. He had spotted me earlier in the week and noticed who else was in the house and when. He might have put his tank top out as bait today when he knew I would be alone. I didn't mind at all. Somebody had to do the brain work for this, and with precum starting to show in my sweatpants it wasn't going to be me. Under his cut-offs, I could see his basket swelling up against the zipper.
"Wanna coke?" I asked.
My bedroom isn't that big with me alone in it, and when Kim walked in it felt that he wore the room around him. Feeling my tension, he embraced me without pulling off my sweatpants, massaging the cheeks of my ass with his hands while letting my hands have a field day sliding over the sweat-slick iron of his belly and chest before I began fumbling with the zipper of his cutoffs. His sweat was clean with a light hint of garlic, just like the taste of his mouth when on tip-toes I reached up to kiss him. When I began to suck his tongue I felt fingers of one hand massaging the outer ring of my asshole as the fingers of the other hand reached in front under my crotch. Picking me up off the ground with one hand, I tried to wrap my legs around his belly but Kim leaned us back onto the bed. When he kicked away his cut-offs, his cock snapped up, as long as a hardcover book and almost as thick as a coke can. It stood up as hard as a fire hydrant over his belly.
At the sight of Kim's weapon aimed at my asshole as he lifted my legs up into the air and prepared to lean forward into me, I almost panicked. The last time I had been fucked (which had been the first time I had been fucked) it had hurt plenty. But what was different today was the sense of strength and security that Kim gave off with his body. I let my legs bend back over his shoulders, I felt the head of his cock make contact with my asshole. His precum felt cool to the air as his cock rubbed it around my asshole. His hands clamping themselves over my shoulders, he reached down to kiss me again. As his lips hit mine, his cock stopped circling my asshole and his head began to fit itself in.
The first flash of pain when his cockhead spread my asshole open squared itself when he pushed the head all the way in. The pressure of his massive hands rubbing my shoulders, Kim's level and hot breathing through his lips into my gasping mouth and the dripping of his sweat down his torso onto my belly fought for my mind with the panic of my ass as it tried to relax around Kim's cock. But every time I felt like he had gone up to his hilt, a new slicing pain tore from my asshole into my head as I felt more of his unseen cock grind in.
At the next flash of pain a yell burst out of my throat and I buried my mouth into the heavy muscles of his shoulder to muffle my shout. Under my lips his shoulder felt as hard and unyielding as a football, slippery with sweat. Kim twisted his head to shove his tongue into my ear and his suction turned my next shout into a low, long moan. The tearing of my ass came from places I didn't know existed until at last I could feel the hilt of his cock making contact with my hole.
With his cock in all the way he simply held me, letting me come to terms with his tool all the way into my guts, its throbbing strength making my belly glow with heat and a red haze grow in my eyes. When I reached to my own cock, he grabbed my hand away and twisted up, so that he gripped both my hands behind my head with one thick hand wrapped around both of my wrists. When he slowly, teasingly began to ease his cock out, the pain shifted around his retreat until I could feel only his cockhead splitting me open. His tongue and teeth began to play with one of my nipples and my own teeth clenched over a yell that was fighting to break out of the control that Kim was taking away from me. When his cock ground back down to its base on one strong shove and his teeth switched to my other nipple, I forgot control and yelled for breath.
I could feel with my legs wrapped around Kim's torso that his body's tension snapped and his cock ground in and out, this time far faster. Again and again, the friction of his cock burning out of my asshole through my belly and the ringing of my ears over Kim's cool breathing. I looked up and Kim locked our eyes together as his mouth left my stinging nipples to crush my own lips. The steady rhythm of his hips suddenly quickened and his breathing grew hoarse in my mouth. He began to growl in tune to the hammering of his cock through my melting asshole and he clamped both his hands on either side of my head, his sweat dripping into my eyes.
His rocking rhythm dissolved into one vicious spear after another, and I felt the heat of my own cock glowing from his friction. With one last shove his cock penetrated through the jelly of my asshole muscles and a new cooling glow spread from the tip of his cock. I felt a new spray over my torso and over Kim's body and dimly realized that I had come for the first time without jerking myself off. I could feel his balls pumping over and over in rhythm with his gasping for air. His moans slowed and then stopped, as his heavy balls finished pumping into me. He playfully rubbed his nose against mine while his cock shrunk down, still hilt-deep in my ass. Finally, his hips lifted his cock out of my ass and I groaned again, the emptiness throbbing almost as much as the fullness. He reached one arm around me, the muscles feeling like slick steel cables, and lay beside me as our breathing slowed back to normal, slowly moving his keg-sized thigh against my own leg.
After we both felt we were ready, he pulled me up into his arms as we both sat on our bed.
"Thank you very much, Edouard" he said, squeezing my shoulder. "How do you feel?"
I grinned. I felt like my guts had been turned into overcooked spaghetti. "That was fine."
We were both speaking quietly. The ball game on the radio had finished.
"How long will it take you to finish the job, Kim?"
"Tomorrow I gotta tear down the garage"
"How long will that take?"
He misunderstood me. "About a day" he said, flexing his bicep.
"I mean, how long will you be working over there?"
"Well" he paused and smiled. "After I pull down the garage, I gotta break up the concrete floor and haul it away. Then I can start to get the ground ready for the gardening." He looked up and down my body. "It'll take a while, Edouard. I might be working around here longer than I thought." We grinned.
He stood and began to pull on his cut-offs. "Wait a sec!" I said. He looked up quizzically.
I got up out of bed and stood in front of him. Reaching up to pull his head down, I licked off a thick blob of my come that had shot up into his brush-like hair.
"Kim, what's your last name?"
"You couldn't pronounce it."
"You can teach me."
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