course they had their thick-soled work boots and cute little yellow safety hats. There was one guy who always wore jeans with a blue button-down shirt, I suppose he was in charge.

But it was the fellow who operated the back-hoe who most caught my eye. He was a dreamboat of man with Billy Baldwin eyes and a George Clooney grin. He was young, but not too young, I’d put him right around thirty. He had that weathered, defined look to his tanned skin, like some sculptor had chiseled him out of granite. And he somehow managed to always maintain that ‘oops I’m sexy’ level of facial scruff, that was more than a five o’clock shadow but decidedly less than a beard. I had heard the other men call him ‘Ricky’ a few times as they’d gone about their business, and I found that to be the perfect name for a man of his stature.

It was my growing crush on Ricky that prompted me to take to offering the workers lemonade during the afternoon. And I even went so far as to grant them use of my downstairs bathroom so that they wouldn’t have to relieve themselves in the port-a-john docked beside my mailbox.

On the fifth afternoon of their occupancy in front of my home, I was downstairs vacuuming the living room and watching Dr. Phil. I hadn’t noticed anyone slip in the side door to my den. I clicked off the vacuum and wheeled it into the closet. I then walked into the downstairs bathroom, which doubled as a laundry room – playing home to my washer and dryer – to check on my load of whites in the wash. I twisted the knob and plunged into the room unannounced out of habit, forgetting that I’d granted ready access to this room to the workers.

I was startled to see Ricky standing there, taking a leak. He just stared back at me like a deer in headlights, his hand wrapped around his thick, brown cock, still streaming an arc of golden piss down into the toilet.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, intending to cast my eyes toward the floor and step back out of the room. But I just couldn’t. I had lusted after this guy from sun-up to sun-down for the last four or five days, and now I was standing here staring at his beautiful, perfectly formed cock. I just couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

“Uh, no problem, I’m just finishing up,” Ricky replied, spurting a couple extra bursts before shaking off his cock and stuffing it back in his work pants. He zipped his fly then reached down and depressed the knob to flush.

I watched, mesmerized, as his triceps flinched and bulged below the short, tight white sleeves of his shirt while he lathered and rinsed his hands. I reached to the rack above my washer and grabbed a fresh hand towel.

“Here ya go,” I whispered, still in awe of seeing this Adonis’ package.

“Thanks.” He took the towel and dried his hands, twisting the fabric around each individual finger to ensure he was completely dry. “You know… I’ve noticed you watching me out there.”

I was a bit taken aback by his comment. “Uh… have you?” I asked, not sure how else to respond.

“Oh yeah. I’ve noticed you watching me, because I’ve been watching you. I damn near took out George with the scoop because