Poolside Plantings

Los Angeles was 100 miles away, but it might as well have been 10,000 miles. I was finally relaxed. Someone in the hot tub commented that I had a nice smile. I don’t think I’d smiled for years.

After endless years on contract at MGM, I was finally able to take a vacation. The contract expired. I had saved enough to live for a few years if I chose not to work again. This trip to Palm Springs was quite literally what the doctor ordered. My blood pressure was through the roof. I was starved of vitamin D. Basking in the sunshine in my speedo I could feel my skin drinking in the light. That’s when I saw Bailey.

The clothing-optional resort catered only to men. The owner was queer, as were all his clientele. Nobody was required to wear clothing. This meant that the employees of the resort had to be comfortable working around a bunch of naked gay men. Bailey was the new groundskeeper. He was so good looking, he had to dress ugly on purpose. He as over six feet tall, with dirty blonde hair. He wore coke bottle glasses and a thick mustache, hiding his handsome face. Every time he moved, his muscles threatened to burst through the fabric of his clothes. I was surrounded by a crowd of mostly naked men, but all I saw was Bailey, bending to pick up a pot of geraniums. Even from behind, I could see the outline of his cock running down the inside of the left leg of his jeans.

I’m a bottom by design, not by choice. My fat cock looks good in a swimsuit. It attracts a lot of curious men, anxious to take a ride. Once it comes out of the swimsuit and swells to full size, they walk away. Unless they’re very experienced, they know they can’t do a thing. If I’m lucky, they’re versatile, and I get a good ass fucking. In Los Angeles, they’re usually 100% bottom with zero interest in giving me the pleasure they’d hoped to reap from me.

Bailey didn’t seem to notice my huge bulge. He kept at his job, patiently planting pansies and geraniums in terra cotta pots. I had to walk past him to get to my room, and I needed to pee. With my fat cock crammed into speedos, I wiggled and walked to my room. I nodded at Bailey and said, “Hi.”

Bailey looked up, pushed his thick glasses to his forehead, and smiled. “Hey man.” His voice was deep. It made me shiver.

He went back to planting. I took a piss in the room and stuffed everything back carefully, to hide as much as I could. I know very little about gardening, but I do know that geraniums are perennials in Los Angeles. Palm Springs has different weather. He was right outside my door, potting geraniums.

“I thought geraniums were perennials.”

Bailey looked up with a serious expression. “Not in the Springs. By August these’ll be crispy.” He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Bailey.” I took his meaty palm in mine. It was cracked and rough.

“Peter.”

We stood silently for what felt like an eternity but was most likely about ten seconds. Bailey licked his lips.

“We ain’t allowed in the guest’s rooms.”

“Are we allowed in yours?”

When he was done planting for the day, Bailey stowed away the wheelbarrow and tools. I was lying by the pool, my fat, throbbing meat wrapped in spandex. I saw silent whispers between guests, some of whom stared unabashedly at my hard-on. Every time Bailey bent to put away a tool I got harder. I didn’t know what would happen between us, but I knew I was going to like it. Bailey closed up the garden shed and padlocked it.

He whispered. “I’m in 46. Wait five minutes.” Bailey walked with a bit of a limp. I could see his massive cock trapped in his jeans. I suppose the rest of the resort could see it too. It was impossible to miss, just like mine.

Before I could knock, Bailey whisked me inside. He planted his lips on mine, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. I pushed back, tasting his toffee-scented breath. I put a hand on his inner thigh, rubbing the long log of flesh that throbbed and strained against the denim. He reciprocated, caressing my cock through the strained fabric of my swimsuit until it stuck out like a tent pole. It was thick as a beer can.

Bailey knelt and freed my fatty from its prison. His bing hands held it. The fingers couldn’t touch. He buried his lips in my foreskin and tongued the tip. I’m a shower and a grower. It got bigger. His eyes widened. I waited for the familiar rejection.

“You’re like me!” He stood. After getting the waist past his protruding ass, he lowered his jeans to his knees to free the monster. It lifted to a 90-degree angle, poking my belly button. His cock was longer than mine, but it was the same size around, like two soup cans stacked on each other. Bailey held me close. My cock went between his legs, while his pressed to his chest, rising past the nipple line. I only needed to lower my head to lick the tip. He shivered.

I said, “Bailey, I’ve never been with someone as big as you. I’m not sure I can take it.”

He grinned. “Me neither.” I wasn’t sure if he meant he didn’t know if he could take me or if I could take him. Turned out it was both.

Bailey said, “Pete, you wanna try fucking me?” I hadn’t fucked anyone since high school. I was just too big. Yes, I wanted to try fucking him. But I knew it was hopeless. Still, I nodded.

“I gotta prepare.” He went to the bathroom. The door was open; I saw him in the mirror. He douched, then he took some diet pills out of the cabinet and crushed them with a glass. He caught my eye in the mirror.

“You want some? It makes it easier.” He snorted some with a short straw. I took the straw and inhaled the bitter powder. At first I felt nothing. Then I heard a ringing in my ears. My cock got so hard I thought it would explode.

Bailey climbed up on the bed, wriggling his muscled ass. I licked the musky hole. The scent drove me wild. I lapped and sucked and licked, forcing my tongue deeper into his hole. It was surprisingly loose. His cock hung down like an udder. I milked it while I sucked, stretching his balls until the tip of his cock leaked pre-cum. I caught the pre-cum on my tongue and licked his hole, tasting the salty dribble as it worked its way into his hole.

Bailey moaned. “Oh, Peter. Fuck me. Fuck me.” He handed me a jar of Albolene. I slicked up my cock with the grease and spit on it. I spit in my greasy hand a few times and wiped Bailey’s hole with the mixture.

“You ready?”

He nodded. He picked up a little glass vial and popped it, inhaling the fumes. He handed it to me. I inhaled, and my whole world throbbed. I knelt over Bailey, who lay prostrate on his mattress. I lined my cock head up with his hole. Letting gravity do some of the work, I pushed until the very tip entered the warm hole. Bailey popped another vial.

“Quick! Now!”

I watched my cock head as his hole swallowed it up. I could swear he was pulling me inside him. Once the head was in, the rest of the fuck was a straight shot. My hips pressed against his round buttocks. I was inside a man for the first time in years. I nearly cried.

I was so surprised and excited, I wasn’t able to hold back for very long. Twenty or thirty good strokes and I shot my load up inside him. I pulled out my dripping cock, wiping the excess cum on his backside.

Bailey rolled over and smiled. “Your turn.”

I didn’t think I could take it. I’d been fucked three ways to Sunday but never by a man as big and thick as Bailey. He used greasy fingers to stretch my hole. I felt him press against my prostate and jumped. He fingered me there again and again, watching me thrash with ecstasy.

As much as it took me to grease up my own pole, it was nothing to the amount of Albolene that Bailey needed to lube up his. He spit over and over, polishing his huge cock until it shined. He flipped me onto my back, holding my legs on his shoulders, and handed me another glass ampoule.

I popped the glass, and just as I began inhaling, I felt blinding pain in my nether regions. The poppers made my muscles relax, but they didn’t take away the pain. Bailey forced himself halfway in, until his cock rammed against the end of my rectum. He leaned over and kissed me. He pushed hard as he lifted my left side close to him. Suddenly, his cock popped through an opening I knew well. He was in my colon now. He held the poppers to my nose and pushed again. With a loud smack, his hips hit my butt.

I recognized the tears of joy in his eyes. He probably hadn’t been inside anyone either. I lifted my head, watching in fascination as the huge cock slid in and out of me. Bailey’s rhythm became a locomotive, speeding up with each stroke until he was a jackhammer.

“Oh fuck! Jesus Christ! Fucking fuck!” My eyes rolled into my head. I couldn’t see, only feel. It was terrible pain mixed with a pleasure so sublime, it was worth any amount of pain. I felt completely filled with flesh on the in-stroke, and terribly empty on the out-stroke. Over and over he pounded me until I lost the power of speech. I moaned softly. Bailey kissed me, holding my shoulders against the bed so he could fuck even harder.

“I’m gonna plant my seed in you.” It was funny, coming from a gardener. I nodded weakly.

He threw his head back and gave a quiet shout. I felt a warm flood fill my insides. As Bailey fucked, filling my lower digestive tract, there was nowhere for the cum to go. It shot past his cock, out of my hole, staining the bed. He collapsed on top of me. I held his muscular ass, marveling how it had accepted my fat cock just minutes earlier. Next it was the powerhouse that drove his violent thrusts.

The diet pills were doing their job. I was rock hard, throbbing against Bailey’s belly button. He winked.

“Something’s up, eh?”

I nodded.

“I think we’ll have a whole garden planted by the end of the night.” He was right.