Landed at the regional airport, suitcase wheels rattling on pavement. Friend picked me up in his truck for the family chalet bash. Renovations weekend, big crew. Perfect anonymity—no one knew me here, flight out tomorrow. Dragged my bag through the chaos. Laughter boomed, picnic tables loaded with food. Then eyes locked on Uncle Thom. Massive build, buzzed ginger hair, thick mustache, piercing blue eyes. Virile but soft vibe. Instant crush. Couldn’t look away.
Joined the guys on the roof. Hauled shingles, stole glances. Pause time: beers cracked open. Thom yanked off his shirt. Fuck. Sweaty red fur across broad pecs, big pink nipples begging attention. Cock twitched hard. He led the work, biceps flexing, tight jeans hugging that ass. Chat with friend: Thom lives alone, fixes everything. Fantasies exploded—sucking those veins, tasting his sweat.
The Stopover
Dinner, campfire stories. Teased him, laughed when his eyes hit mine. Couch in main chalet that night, dreamed of pinning him down. Next morning, back at it. Camisole barely containing ginger chest hair. Works wrapped post-lunch. Stayed for dinner. Heart raced—had to see him again.