The Gardener (Part 19)

[Reeza]

Author's Note: I finished the next part earlier than expected, and I see no reason to keep it from you. You've been good. It's very cold where I am, so I'm looking forward to spending the weekend indoors, while nnnrg and Mdlftr analyze my characters. I couldn't have created better characters than those two.

In this chapter, we meet some of the neighbors, there's some buttery, tasty sex, and more interactions with the police.


Previously on The Gardener . . . The Weasel Woman distributed a nasty flyer; Sam showed Adam how much his muscles grow (temporarily) when he works out; someone burned down the garden shed; and Adam and Sam had a tense discussion with two police officers.


The Gardener
by Reeza

Parts 1 and 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9 : Part 10 : Part 11 : Part 12 : Part 13 : Part 14 : Part 15 : Part 16 : Part 17 : Part 18

Part 19

The days after the fire were full of new and interesting experiences. As a rule, I didn't like new experiences, whether they were interesting or not, but I had no choice but to get used to the changes that were occurring. The house and my garden had always been my refuge from the world, but now I had to admit that I might be more vulnerable there than I was anywhere else. I felt like Sam and I, and my home, had become targets. The Weasel Woman's flyer had been left at the door of every house in the neighborhood, except mine, just before the holiday weekend. I was more suspicious of my neighbors than ever. Any one of them could have set the fire.

I spent the Fourth of July cleaning up the mess left in the garden while Sam repaired the back door. We couldn't touch the area around the remains of shed because it was cordoned off as a crime scene. The grass was a trampled swamp of mud and black ashes. One of my carefully cultivated perennial borders was badly damaged by the force of the water from the fire hose. I wanted to salvage as many plants as possible and get them back in the ground. It was warm and sunny, a good day for gardening, but there was no way to do the work without being covered in mud.

Shortly after we started working, I heard a little voice. "Hello? Excuse me." I turned around and saw a woman who looked vaguely familiar standing in the driveway. "I'm sorry to bother you, I know you're very busy, but . . ." I cautiously approached her as Sam came up from the basement and stepped onto the porch. I could see she wasn't a threat. She looked like the kind of women I saw in church when I used to go with my parents. And she was holding a pie.

"Hello," I said. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, no! I don't need any help." She smiled at me, then glanced up and noticed Sam standing at the back door. "Oh! Hello! You don't know me. I'm Joan Miller. I live down the street here, and . . . I'm so sorry about what happened last night! I just feel sick about it, and I wanted to do something, but I didn't know what to do except to bake you a pie. I know it doesn't make any sense, but it's the only thing I'm good at. No matter what happens, I just start baking. I always make cherry pie for the Fourth of July, so I just made an extra one and I thought I would bring it over here for you boys. Is that okay?" She looked at me, then at Sam, then back at me.

"Sure . . . I . . . we . . ."

Sam said, "Thank you."

"Yes!" Dammit! "Thank you!" That's what I was trying to say. "That's very nice of you. I . . . I'm covered with mud, so . . ."

"I'll get it," Sam said as he stepped down from the porch and accepted the pie from her. "It's nice to meet you, Joan. I'm Sam, and this is Adam. He's not usually this muddy."

"Oh, I know that!" She waved her hand at him. "I see you boys out here all the time. You do such a nice job with your flowers and the grass is so well-kept. It's such a shame to see this mess back here, but I'm sure you'll have it looking beautiful again in no time. I wish I had your green thumb! But I'll stick to baking. It's the only thing I'm good at."

It was hard to dislike her, even for an expert like me. "Well, thank you. I'm sure we'll enjoy the pie. Can I ask you something, Joan?"

"Why, sure. What is it, dear?"

"Did you find a flyer in your door recently? One with a picture of us?"

Her face changed as if a shadow fell over it. "Yes, I did, and it was very confusing for me. I looked at it, and I read it, and I thought to myself, 'Yes, this is what I want on Eden Place.' I wish all the houses looked this nice. But I didn't understand the part about the children. So I showed it to my husband, and he explained to me what he thought it meant." She paused for a moment. "He was in the army, you know, so he knows more about the world than I do. I'm the first to admit, I'm not very smart. I can read a recipe and that's about it." She paused again and pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve. "But, I'll tell you what . . ." Her voice was shaking. She held up the handkerchief and shook her fist at me, raising her voice. "People who love the Lord don't say things like that! They don't put flyers in your door that tell people to hate each other!" She clamped the handkerchief over her mouth as if she had said something terrible.

It choked me up. That was the last thing I expected her to say.

"I'm sorry." She sniffed. "I don't like to get angry, but sometimes people make me mad! I need to pray about this a lot, because it's very confusing for me. I'll let you get back to your work, now. I know you're busy. I wasn't planning to make a scene." She put the handkerchief over her mouth again and turned to leave.

I looked at Sam. He silently mouthed, "Wow!"

I called after her, "Thank you, Joan! Thank you for stopping by!" She waved her hand without turning around and kept walking. "Come and visit us any time, okay?" Yes, I actually said that. Can you believe it?

Sam put on a shocked expression. "Come and visit us any time?!"

"I know . . . I'll probably regret it. It just came out of me, like . . . like there's a friendly person inside of me. I feel sick."

"Then you won't want any pie, right? I'm taking this in the house. I'll be back in ten minutes."

"I want a piece of that!"

"Are you sure? It might be poisoned. Maybe she set the fire."

"She did not! You'd better leave a piece for me, or I'll . . . I'll . . . oh, for God's sake, I don't have any control around here anymore!"

He grinned. "I'll save you a piece."

I went back to work, lifting the plants out of the flower bed with a spading fork, setting them aside, and figuring out how to rearrange them. Sam reappeared on the porch, making a big show of rubbing his stomach and licking his lips, and said, "Yum!" I smiled and shook my head, wishing I could have watched him eat the pie.

A short while later, I heard another voice. "Hi there! Wow, what a mess! This is terrible! Oh my gosh!"

Sam said, "Hi," while I stood up and turned around, scraping mud off my hands. It was a woman and a man. She was tall and narrow. He was short and round and was holding a casserole dish. She was doing the talking.

"How awful! This is a crime! Well actually, it is a crime, isn't it? I can't believe it! Who would do something like this? I don't understand it. I'm Jackie. This is my husband, Jack. I know what you're thinking. Jack and Jackie, right? Easy to remember. We planned it that way, didn't we, Jack? Actually we didn't. Those were our names, and then we got married. It worked out pretty well." Sam and I exchanged a look, but we didn't have time to get a word in.

"So you guys are gay, right? We don't care. Not a problem. And we have kids. We're not worried. Do what you want. Live your lives. You won't hear a peep from us, will they, Jack? No, you won't. Jack's kind of shy, but he said to me this morning, he said, 'Jackie, I should make them that casserole I make that you like so much. They can have it for dinner. Their house is probably a mess, and they won't want to cook.' He's quite a talker at home. So I said, 'That's a great idea, Jack! You're such a sweet man! That's why I married you.' And he's a good cook. I don't cook. I don't have time with all my projects. I'm always busy. Thank God he cooks or the kids and I would starve."

I wanted to say, "Thank you," but by the time I took a breath, it was too late.

"So this casserole is like scalloped potatoes with chunks of sausage and cheese and there's beer in there and peas and it's so goddamn good I could eat the whole thing myself. You don't mind if I swear, do you? I hope not, because I'm like a sailor sometimes. So when he makes this casserole, I eat it, and I'm so happy I run around the room like a poodle on crack. Don't I, Jack? And that's not like me. I'm usually tired from my projects." Jack cleared his throat. "What? Am I talking too much? He thinks I talk too much. Hey, I don't know your names! What's your name?"

Quickly, I said, "I'm Adam, and that's Sam. Thank you for thinking of us, that's very nice, I'm sure it will be delicious."

"Pleased to meet you! I love your house. And this garden! It's gorgeous! And so are you guys! Seriously! That mud is really working for you! I'm teasing, of course. Give the casserole to that guy, Jack. Sam, right? He looks hungry, so give it to him."

Jack went over, handed the casserole to Sam, and he spoke! "Three hundred and fifty degrees for one hour."

Sam said, "Thanks. It looks good."

Jackie had enough of being quiet. "We'd better let you go now. I can see you've got your hands full. I've got some projects to do before we go to the fireworks tonight. The kids are excited. They drive me nuts with all their talking, but they're kids! That's how they are. We love 'em, don't we, Jack? But if there's anything you need, anything at all, you come and get us. We're at 3363 Eden Place. 3363. Got it? Easy to remember. Jack and Jackie, 3363. You can bring that dish back any time, but you're gonna love that fucking casserole. I'm jealous of you. Let's go, Jack. These people are busy. It was great to meet you. I'm sorry about the fire. Did you say goodbye, Jack? Don't be rude. Remember your social skills."

"Bye." That was Jack.

I said, "Bye. Thanks again." As they walked down the driveway, Jack put his hand on Jackie's butt and kept it there. When they were out of earshot, I said, "Holy shit, she's bonkers!"

Sam was cracking up. "Why didn't you say, 'Come and visit us any time?'"

"I restrained myself. Maybe when she's medicated. But that was nice of them, wasn't it?"

"It was. There are some nice people around here."

"I know. It's making me wonder whether I should continue to hate people. I think I should, but . . . I feel like I'm having a crisis of faith or something."

Sam looked at me for a minute. "You're really different from other people, aren't you? I'll put this in the house."

"That needs to be cooked before you eat it."

"I'm not gonna eat it now. It's for dinner. But there's barely enough here for me. What will you eat?"

"A moldy crust of bread, by the time you're finished."

"You're not getting my moldy bread!" He went in the house and I went back to work on the flower bed.

Throughout the afternoon, various neighbors stopped by to express their sympathy, their support, or their concerns. One man said, in a roundabout way, that he didn't want this kind of trouble in the neighborhood and suggested that we might be more comfortable in another part of town. I told him, flatly, that I wasn't going to move and that we should try to root out the criminal rather than the victim. He admitted that I had a point, shook our hands, and wished us well. A few people stood on the sidewalk to look at the scene of the fire, but didn't speak to us. Everyone who came into the back garden had the pleasure of seeing me covered with mud, while Sam, wearing my father's tool belt, looked like one of those ridiculously hunky carpenters on a home improvement show.

By late afternoon we had a pan of lasagna, a fruit basket, two cakes, some zucchini bread, several dozen cookies, and a child's drawing of a fire truck rescuing two stick figures with tears pouring out of their faces. At one point the baked goods were arriving so quickly that Sam barely had time to brush the crumbs off his face before he was ducking into the house with his next treat. No matter how much I had seen him eat, I still couldn't believe the amount of food he could pack into that hard, flat stomach.

He was almost finished fixing the door when he realized he would need some hardware to finish the job, and was headed over to Home Depot to get what he needed. I asked him to also pick up a new garden hose to replace the one that was vandalized.

Not long after he pulled out of the driveway, an SUV pulled in with a handsome man at the wheel. When he got out, it took me a minute to recognize Officer Hanson out of uniform, in shorts and a t-shirt. It was plain to see that he was still a regular at the Harbor View fitness club.

"Hey, Adam. How's it goin'?"

"Alright, I guess. I'm just trying to salvage these plants. I'd shake your hand, but I'm pretty muddy. What can I do for you, officer?"

"Carl. You can call me Carl. I'm off duty, and I'm not here officially. Sorry to drop in on you like this, but I have some information for you."

"Okay, Carl." Maybe it was because I was so dirty, but he looked very clean. He reminded me of a character from one of those Dick and Jane books we used in elementary school, except he was all grown up and familiar with condoms.

"Listen . . . you're not hearing this from me, okay? And you can't repeat it to anyone else, but my partner and I found out that Big Ed O'Neill was stopped for a traffic violation last night . . . or I should say early this morning. It was right around the time of the fire, and he wasn't far from here. He was ticketed for speeding, but the cop who stopped him said he was intoxicated."

"Was he arrested?"

"No. He just got the speeding ticket."

"Why? He was driving drunk!"

"Okay, here's the thing . . . Big Ed and the Chief of Police are close friends. O'Neill donates equipment to the police department, and the Chief makes some of O'Neill's problems go away. This isn't the first time O'Neill has been caught drunk driving. A lot of us on the department don't like it, but that's the way things work."

"You've gotta be kidding me! He just gets away with this shit?"

"So far, yes. But that's not what I came here to tell you. Again, you're not hearing this from me, but the cop who ticketed him also said that O'Neill reeked of gasoline, and he had an empty gas can in his car."

"So he set the fire!"

"He may have set the fire. He might have been putting gas in his lawn tractor, too. It's circumstantial evidence."

"So you're not gonna do anything about it!" I was starting to dislike him, despite his dimpled chin.

"Hang on a minute! I'm not done." He put his hand up to suggest that I should simmer down. "My partner, Mansky, isn't gonna let it go."

"That asshole? As if he's gonna do anything for us!"

"You're right . . . he doesn't give two shits about you. But the thing about Mansky is that he's an asshole to everyone equally. And he's a pretty good cop, believe it or not. He's got a grudge against the Chief for partnering him with me, and he hates O'Neill for selling him a shitty car a few years back. I've never seen him so motivated to bust somebody."

"Oh," I said. It really bugs me when assholes turn out to have good qualities. Of all the feelings I dislike, mixed feelings are my least favorite. "So, what's he gonna do?"

"I don't know yet. It might take him a while, but he won't let it go."

"And what am I supposed to do with this information, other than being really pissed off?"

"Nothing, I hope. I just wanted you to know that it probably wasn't one of your neighbors who set the fire."

I took a deep breath and let that thought settle in. "The neighbors have been pretty nice to us. A lot of them were stopping by today, bringing food and stuff."

"That's nice. You must have a lot of friends. This seems like one of those neighborhoods where everybody knows each other."

"Actually, I hadn't met any of them until today."

"Really? I thought you said you've been living here since you were a kid."

"Yeah."

"Um . . ." He looked confused, and seemed to be at a loss for words. "So where's your . . . Sam?"

"He ran out to pick up some stuff at Home Depot. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"Okay, I should get going."

"He told me that you knew him from the Harbor View. And that you had . . . whatever."

"Oh. I was hoping he wouldn't say anything."

"Why? He didn't wanna hide it from me."

"That's good, I guess. I just . . . didn't want you to think I do that a lot. And I thought it would make things awkward between us."

"I'm pretty awkward anyway, so it didn't change much."

He smiled. "He's a lucky guy."

Now things are more awkward between us. "I'm pretty lucky, too." I looked at my feet.

"Yeah. Sam is . . . a good guy. As long as you don't piss him off. I hate to do this to you, but I'd prefer it if you didn't tell him this stuff about Big Ed. I'm afraid he might want to take things into his own hands, if you know what I mean."

I knew exactly what he meant, and I knew he was right. "Okay. I'll honor your request." Something he said made me curious. "Um . . . does Sam have a reputation of some kind?"

"Oh . . . man, you're kind of putting me on the spot, here. Uh . . . y'know, people talk. Gay gossip is the worst. Sam is one of those guys everybody wants to say they've been with, y'know? I don't know how much of it was true."

"Uh . . . that's not what I was . . . I thought it was something about his temper."

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry! Uh . . . yeah, his temper. Well . . . there was an incident with the manager of the club when Sam got fired . . . you knew he was fired, right?"

"Yeah, I know about that, and I know why he was fired."

"Oh, good. I'm not sure what happened, exactly. He didn't hurt anybody or do any damage, but . . . the manager was afraid of Sam after he fired him. Because I'm a cop, he said to me that if anything should happen to him, I should keep Sam in mind. But nothing ever happened, so I just forgot about it until I saw the way Sam was looking at Mansky last night. That was pretty intense."

"Yeah, it was. But he calmed down."

"Are you ever afraid of him?"

Without hesitation, I said, "No. Absolutely not. I feel very safe with him. He's a big pussy cat, really."

"You mean, like a lion or something?"

"No, I mean a cat. He'll be home soon. Maybe you should . . ."

"Yeah, I should go. Um . . . good to see you. You have my card. We'll keep you posted on any developments, okay?" He moved rather quickly towards his vehicle.

"Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate the information, Carl."

"You're welcome." He got in the SUV, waved at me, and backed out of the driveway. Again, rather quickly.

Before I could return to my work, Sam was pulling in. As soon as he was out of his truck he asked, "Who was that guy who just left?"

Think fast! "Oh, that was just Officer Hanson. He came by to give us an update."

"Oh. What did he say?"

"They have a promising lead."

"On what?"

"A suspect."

"Who?"

"He wasn't at liberty to say. He just wanted us to know they're working on it."

"That's it? He came over just for that?"

"Yeah. That was nice, right?"

"Why wasn't he in a squad car?"

"He's off duty."

"Oh, really? And he just made time to come over to tell you almost nothing while I happened to be at the store."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Was he flirting with you?"

"What? No! He doesn't seem like the flirting type. Besides, why would he be flirting with me?"

"Oh, he knows how to flirt. I remember. And why wouldn't he be flirting with you?"

"Because he knows we're in a relationship."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and everybody respects that!"

"He does." Dammit! I shouldn't have said that.

He narrowed his eyes. "So, he showed his interest in you in a respectful way?"

"Sam . . . c'mon now! You really need to get a grip on your jealousy. Do you trust me, or not?"

"As I've said before, I trust you, but I don't trust other guys around you."

"Right! Because I'm so irresistible when I'm covered with mud!"

He looked me over, up and down. "You know . . . it is kind of sexy. Have you ever done any mud wrestling?"

"Does that sound like something I would have done? Do you know me at all?"

He was smiling now. "Well . . . I always feel like there's something you're not telling me. There must be things in your past . . . weird things."

"Have I hidden my weirdness so far?"

"No. That's a very good point. You win this round, but I'm keeping my eye on Carl."

"Maybe you wanna get together with him again." I probably crossed a line there.

"Hey! That's not fair, Adam."

"Are you fucking kidding me?! I get interrogated about every guy who so much as looks at me, and I can't make a comment about a guy you actually messed around with?!" I felt like my blood pressure was going up.

He looked at the ground. "I bought your garden hose."

"DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" That was unexpectedly loud. Where did that anger come from?

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry. You're right. I need to work on my jealousy. But you're so adorable . . ."

"I AM NOT . . . adorable!" I was gritting my teeth. "I'm a fucking mud creature with a truckload of issues who can barely look people in the eye! Who the hell would want me?"

"I want you."

"You have me! Stop worrying that some guy is gonna steal me away from you!" I took a deep breath and let it all out.

"Alright. Thanks for the reassurance." He sheepishly went back to fixing the door.

The absurdity of that conversation kept coming back to me for the rest of the day. He's worried about someone stealing me away? Unbelievable! I should be questioning him! If anyone is gonna get stolen, it's the giant studmuffin! And I know people are after him! What the fuck? I tried not to ruminate, but it was difficult. I wished that Carl hadn't told me about Sam's reputation.

After dividing some of the perennials, I managed to reassemble the flower bed before it was time to stop for dinner. Sam had fixed the door so it could be locked. All it would need was some paint. There was unresolved tension between us from our conflict about Carl, but when Sam joined me in the shower and gently washed my hair and my body, the tension went down the drain with the mud. He apologized again. I forgave him, while feeling a twinge of guilt that I hadn't been completely honest with him about Carl and the information he shared with me.

I was grateful that I didn't have to cook. The neighbors were right to think food was a helpful offering. I decided to make a salad to go with the potato casserole and the lasagna. Sam ate some fruit and zucchini bread and a couple dozen cookies while waiting for the main dishes to come out of the oven. It was fascinating to watch. "I keep wanting to say you'll spoil your appetite, but I guess that's not possible."

"It hasn't happened so far, but I already feel pretty good."

"What does that mean?"

"This is the way I usually feel after a big meal, but we haven't even started on the real food."

"Well, you were eating who knows what all afternoon. I couldn't keep track of it all. Didn't somebody bring an apple pie?"

"Yeah, that was good! It had caramel on top."

"You didn't leave any for me?"

"I saved that piece of cherry pie for you. You didn't say anything about the apple pie." He was avoiding my eyes. "Sorry. I should have asked you."

"That would've been nice. You'll have to find some way to make it up to me later."

An impish smile spread across his face. "It's too bad we have to go to work tomorrow or I could get really pumped up for you tonight."

"Actually, I was thinking about calling in tomorrow. I have so many vacation days to use, and the fire is a good excuse to use one of them. I need to call my insurance company and get someone out here to assess the damage. Do you think Dave would let you have the day off?"

"No, we're starting a landscaping project tomorrow. There's no way."

"I suppose you'll have your shirt off again."

"Yeah, I need the extra money to buy new clothes. This is getting ridiculous." He lifted his arm to reveal another split seam in his shirt.

"You look good with holes in your clothing. The more, the better." The oven timer went off, so I removed the casserole and left the lasagna in for a while longer.

"Have you noticed I'm a little taller again?"

"I was thinking that, but I wasn't sure. You must be more than six-foot-five now."

"Probably. I wonder when that's gonna stop. My friends at work are starting to ask me about it."

"What do you say?"

"I tell them I have a hormone problem and my doctor is working on it."

"That's pretty good. I hope your hormone problem gets worse. Let's just eat here in the kitchen tonight, okay?"

"Fine with me. But I can't just keep getting bigger, Adam. It has to stop somewhere."

"There are guys who are bigger than you. You could always eat less if you wanna stop growing. For example, you could leave me more than one piece of pie."

"Alright, I heard you the first time. I know I could eat less, but . . . it feels so damn good. I'm gonna feel fantastic after this meal. Better than fantastic. I'm not even sure how to describe it. I should warn you, I'll be super horny. A lot more than usual."

"Okay. Then I'm definitely taking a vacation day tomorrow." I put some of the casserole from Jack and Jackie on my plate, then put the hot dish in front of Sam. "You might as well eat right out of there. I took as much as I want." He seemed to like that. "So, am I gonna be in any danger when you get super horny? Please say yes."

He laughed. "I would never hurt you, but . . . you'll probably need to sleep late tomorrow."

"It sounds like we'll have our own fireworks for the holiday." We dug into Jack's casserole. Jackie was right. It was very good, and not like anything I had ever made. With the salad, it was all I needed for dinner.

After Sam ate what was left in the dish, he sat back, slipped his hand under his t-shirt, and rubbed his abdomen. "Mmm, that hit the spot. It feels nice and cozy in there." He started bobbing his head to some internal rhythm.

"Maybe we should have saved the lasagna for tomorrow."

"No! That casserole was just an appetizer. I'm looking forward to the lasagna."

I got up from the table to get the lasagna out of the oven. "I thought all that other stuff was an appetizer."

"Which stuff? There was lunch, and then dessert . . . then I had an afternoon snack, and a late afternoon snack . . . and then some stuff to tide me over while I was waiting for dinner, but that wasn't part of dinner. So all I've had so far for dinner was that casserole, and that was, like, five minutes ago. So, can you speed it up? I'm hungry!" He was displaying the goofy smile and sparkling eyes that would let him get away with just about anything.

I set the lasagna on top of the stove. "This should sit for a while before we cut it. Can you wait twenty minutes?"

"Twenty minutes? Lemme see that!" He jumped up from his chair and approached me from behind, pretending to look at the lasagna. He slipped his arms around me and cupped his hand over my crotch. "Grrr . . . you're so hot!"

"We're standing in front of a hot oven, and it's July."

"That's not what I meant." I knew that. He picked me up and walked us away from the stove while kissing the side of my neck. "What are we gonna do for the next twenty minutes, Adam?"

"I don't know. Is that a boner you're pressing against my butt?"

"Yeah. Do you wanna see it?"

"What for?"

"I dunno. You might think of something."

"Well, get those shorts off so I can look at it."

He didn't waste any time, kicking his sandals to the side and removing everything he was wearing in about fifteen seconds. He stood proudly with his hands on his hips while his erection throbbed and rose to a higher angle. "Well? Whataya think?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. Get your ass up on the counter."

"On the counter? Okay, you're the boss." He hopped up onto the counter and spread his legs as wide as he could, looking eager. I approached and put my hands on his knees, rubbing my palms on the hard bones, then moving them over his muscular thighs. He arched his back and shivered in anticipation.

"So . . . what would you like me to do with this boner?"

"Use your imagination."

"Are you sure you're horny enough? Maybe we should wait until after the lasagna, just to make sure you're fully loaded."

"I'm already fully loaded. C'mon! Touch it."

"Is it hot? Do I need my oven mitts?"

"No! Just . . . c'mon!"

"I have an idea. Stay there . . . and don't touch yourself."

"Adam! I'm desperate, here!"

"Hey, it's not my fault you ate so much. You need to learn about delayed gratification."

"Then I wanna learn about it right now!" He started drumming on his chest and bobbing his head.

I took a stick of butter from the refrigerator and cut a chunk off one end. "Let's see if you're hot enough to melt butter. If you're not, then this will cool you down."

"Urgh! Why can't you just suck me off or give me a hand job? Why do you have to get all fancy?"

"Because we have twenty minutes to kill."

"Eighteen minutes. Hurry!" I applied the chunk of cold butter to the base of his penis, just above his balls. "Oh! Ooooh. Hmmmmmm. That's not bad." I pressed and slid the butter along the underside of the shaft, pushing it against his belly. He sucked air through his teeth. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"I don't know. For some reason I was thinking about corn on the cob." I slid the butter back down to the base. It was definitely getting soft, and his dick was not. "C'mon, Sam . . . pump some heat into this thing. Let's see what you've got."

He closed his eyes and filled his chest with air while I continued to rub the butter over his boner. I saw the head flare and expand, so I rubbed that as well. The butter was liquifying. "I'm impressed! What are you thinking about?"

He kept his eyes closed and smiled as he replied, "Your ass."

My heart skipped a beat. "Really? We haven't talked about that yet."

"That doesn't mean I don't think about it. A lot." He opened one of his eyes a little to see my expression. I was smiling. "Do you think about it?"

"What? My ass? Your ass? What goes where?"

"All of the above."

I smirked. "Yes." I didn't know what else to say. I thought about it a lot, too. "This butter is a mess. I'm afraid I'll have to rub it in now."

"I melted it! I'm hot!" He pumped his fists in the air.

"I think we knew that."

He was distracted by his own biceps and started flexing them. "Wow! I really am hot! When did this happen?" I grinned and shook my head. I used both hands to massage his long erection and plump balls, causing him to press his hands against the counter and raise himself up a bit. "Oh! Nice!"

A random image popped into my head. "Y'know, this is a lot like preparing a chicken for roasting."

He snorted. "I think you mean a turkey."

I laughed. "Maybe a duck." All this talk was making me hungry. I reached across his thigh for a shaker and sprinkled some black pepper over his buttery dick. That surprised him.

"Hey! What are you doing!"

"You know I like spicy food." I set aside the pepper shaker and closed my lips over the top of his penis, savoring the flavors. I liked it.

Sam liked it, too. "Oh, fuck! Oh! You are the weirdest, sexiest man!" His breathing accelerated. "This won't take long."

I sucked the butter and pepper off his hot, veiny skin, gradually engulfing more and more of his shaft. My greasy hands traveled from his hairy thighs to the sides of his rounded ass and back again, feeling his muscles flexing as he tried to press his pelvis into my face. When his mushroom shaped cap bumped against my uvula, I suppressed my gag reflex and tried to relax my throat.

He placed one hand on my head and held it firmly in place. "Hang on, Adam! I'm coming!" And he did. Several bursts of warm fluid coated the back of my throat, compelling me to swallow repeatedly. I moaned and gurgled, but I didn't mind. I knew what I had signed up for. His ragged breaths slowed down and he let go of my head so I could withdraw slightly. I stayed on him, sucking, licking and swallowing, until I felt him soften a little. After dragging my lips up to the crown, I let him pop out of my mouth, held him with my fingers, and lapped at his sensitive head with the tip of my tongue while he made noises of contentment.

I licked my lips. "That was delicious. The butter and the pepper really enhanced your meaty flavor. I would do that again in a minute."

He took my face between his hands and kissed me. "I think I'll need more than a minute to recover. You're talented."

"Why, thank you." I bowed slightly. "Are you ready for lasagna?"

"Oh, yeah! Lemme just clean my butt print off the counter." He hopped down and grabbed a bottle of spray cleaner from under the sink, tore a few paper towels off the roll, and proceeded to wipe and buff the counter top until he was satisfied that it was clean. I never imagined that such a hunk of handsome muscle would be so tidy. Of course, I never imagined having such a hunk in my kitchen in the first place, especially not a naked one.

He took another paper towel to wipe the excess butter off his crotch. I watched all of this with a happy smile. When he was finished and noticed my amusement, he pounced on me and pressed his naked body against mine, squeezing my butt with one hand. He slipped his semi-erect penis under the hem of my shirt and started rubbing it against my belly with a naughty look on his face. "Do you like that?"

"Yes." I could feel him hardening. "Are you sure you should eat more? You're awfully horny already."

"I'm fine! Don't worry!" He took a step back, but because my shirt was caught on his erection, I was pulled towards him and smacked face-first against his muscled chest. "Oops! Sorry," he said. We both started to giggle uncontrollably.

"I knew I was getting hooked on you!"

"I'd better take your shirt off to prevent any more accidents." I raised my arms and let him pull it over my head. "I'm gonna eat in the nude. My penis is too happy to be covered up." He stroked my chest and my back and pressed himself against me again.

"Sam! Do you want that lasagna or not?"

He raised his hands and backed away as though the police had caught him committing a crime. "Okay! I'll sit down. I'll behave." He went around the table and spread his t-shirt over the seat of his chair to prevent another butt print.

I set the lasagna on the table and carved out a piece that was more than enough for me. Sam assured me I would need the energy to get through the rest of the evening. I had to ask him one more time, "Are you sure you want to eat all of this?"

"Yes! And I'm gonna eat you later." He licked his lips comically.

I pushed the whole dish in front of him. "Alright. I don't know why I'm trying to stop you when I love to watch you eat."

"I know! Back off, why don't ya." He planted his thick forearm between me and the lasagna dish to prevent me from taking it away, and started eating. "Mmm! That's good. I love lasagna."

By the time I finished my piece, he had eaten half of what was left in the pan and kept going. I watched the muscles in his arms and shoulders for a few minutes, then I ate the piece of cherry pie he saved for me. It was excellent. I was going to throw away the remaining salad, but Sam waved me back to the table and took a break from the lasagna to eat it. He ate and ate.

"Umf . . . I wish you knew what I feel like when I eat this much, Adam. My whole body feels like my dick does when it's really hard." And his dick was really hard. As he finished the last of the lasagna, I have to say, just watching him eat gave me a hard-on. My heart beat faster when he leaned back and rubbed his hands over his flexed abdominals. He knew it was affecting me. "You look worried."

"I'm not . . . I'm amazed and excited. Have you ever eaten this much before?"

"I dunno, it's not like I was keeping track. But I've never eaten this much while you were around."

"I don't know why this turns me on so much, but it does."

A lustful smile curled the corners of his lips. "It works for me, too." He lightly stroked his cock and balls with his fingertips. "Take your shorts off."

For some reason I hesitated. There was something in his eyes that made it difficult for me to distinguish between fear and arousal. But I cast my vote for arousal and took off my shorts and underwear. My erection celebrated its freedom.

He held out his hand and gestured for me to come closer. "C'mere. Stand between my legs." He tapped on the front of the chair where his balls were resting. I obeyed, allowing him to hold my ass in both hands and draw me in. He stretched his neck to kiss me, and I playfully offered him my chin and my cheek before giving him my lips. Guiding my hand to his erection, he said, "Feel how hard I am." I did. His hands traveled up my back while he sniffed at my chest and nuzzled my armpits. "You're making me that hard, Adam. That's not from eating. The food makes my body feel stronger and more alive in every way, but you make me hard. That's how much pleasure you give me."

I don't think I had ever believed in his attraction to me as much as I did then. He wanted me. Badly. The awareness of it made me feel nervous . . . and wonderful. "What do you want from me?"

"Everything." He licked at my nipple.

"I don't know what that means, Sam. What do you want me to do?"

His answer was the same. "Everything." He looked in my eyes, daring me to ask another question.

"What do you want to do to me?"

His smile smoldered. "Everything. Twice." He licked my other nipple. "But I won't. Not tonight."

I don't know if I was relieved or disappointed. "Why not?"

"Because I would hurt you."

I thought before I answered, to be sure that I meant it. "I don't mind." I would have given him whatever he wanted.

His eyes were filled with emotion. "I mind, Adam. I mind. But . . . thank you. That means a lot."

I wove my fingers into his dark, wavy hair. "Can you at least tell me what you'd like do to me?"

He put his lips near my ear. "I would taste every square inch of your skin. I would fuck you for hours, and push myself into you as far as I could." My dick suddenly felt very hard. "I would come inside you until you couldn't hold any more, and then I would do it one more time." He drew a ragged breath. "I would fall asleep with my cock inside you so you could feel it grow while I dreamed about you." My knees were getting wobbly. I felt his hand grasping my erection against his own, pressing them together. "And I would fuck you again in the morning before going to work, so I could spend the day remembering what it felt like to be inside you."

I ejaculated with such force that it hit both of our chins, then he joined me to create a fountain of come that left us breathless.

When I could speak, I said, "Promise me that we'll do that some day. Promise me!"

"I promise. Believe me . . . I promise."

We cleaned each other like cats do, with focused, persistent licking, then he surprised me by saying, "Let's forget about doing the dishes and go swimming in Flora's pool. I need to cool down. My whole body is tingling." He didn't need to talk me into it. We pulled on our shorts and headed out the back door.

There was something different about the way Sam moved. He wasn't taller or more massive, but he looked more confident, more powerful. It was incredibly sexy. As we crossed the driveway to approach the gap in the hedge that led to Flora's yard, he stopped in front of his pickup truck. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't wanna freak you out, but . . . I feel so strong . . . I need to lift something heavy."

"Okay. Should we go back to the basement?"

"No. Just make sure no one can see us. This will only take a minute."

I looked down the driveway and around the garden. "What will only take a minute?"

"Don't make any noises, okay? You're gonna like this." He crouched in front of his truck and grabbed it under the bumper."

I whispered, "No, Sam! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

He lifted. The truck groaned. He stood up and curled the front of the truck until the bumper was even with his shoulders and his biceps exploded with size. I heard something slide down the bed of the truck and hit the tailgate. He lowered the bumper to his waist, then curled it again while exhaling. He repeated this one more time, then quietly set the wheels of the truck back on the driveway. "Fuck, that feels good!" He smiled and flexed while I stood there dumbfounded. His biceps were bigger than ever. "Now you'll have something else to play with in the pool."

"As if there wasn't enough of you." I put my trembling hand on his incredible, pumped biceps. "That was mind-blowing! How much does that truck weigh?"

"I don't know. What difference does it make? It was heavy enough to feel good. Let's go, I'm getting horny again."

We went to the hedge and passed through the gap, though it was easier for me than for him. I made a mental note to prune that opening to accommodate his size. As we crossed the lawn I noticed there were a few lights on in Flora's house and on the patio to make it look occupied while she was out of town for the holiday weekend. There were dim lights built into the perimeter of the pool to keep people from falling into it in the dark. Sam removed his shorts and stood naked in the shimmering light, looking like a bluish god from another planet. I undressed and stood next to him. “Let's try not to make too much noise. We don't want the police to show up.”

As soon as we slipped into the water he had his arms around me and was kissing me. His hands were everywhere, and our bodies slid against each other in an erotic dance. His never ending erection was pressed against some part of me at all times. It was exhilarating to be the object of such an intense craving, something I never thought I would experience. It occurred to me that night that his attraction to my body could equal my lust for his, despite my opinion that I was inferior. Why should I question his taste in men? He wanted me when he could have had others. Maybe I wasn't so bad after all.

We alternated between swimming and underwater frottage until we noticed fireworks rising above the trees in a public park not far away. Hanging on the side of the pool, we watched them explode into gigantic blooms of light that faded, all too quickly, into the black sky. Sam was behind me with his arms on either side of mine, quietly oohing and aahing in my ear. When the last fiery bouquet fell behind the trees, I twisted around and spread my arms along the pool's edge. I studied his face, so handsome and young, and full of the life he was giving me. He studied my face as well, without speaking, then touched his forehead to mine.

“I love you, Sam. I'm sorry I don't say it enough, but I do love you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“It's nice to hear that once in a while, but you show it every day, Adam. I don't know if you'll understand what I mean by this, but you make me feel important . . . like I have something to offer that matters to someone. I didn't feel like that before. I'll always love you for that.”

The surface of the water shimmered in the dim light. The golden wet skin on his shoulders glowed. In the corner of my eye, the dark silhouette of a person standing at the side of the pool drew me out of the trance I was falling into.

“Agnes?”

“Aye. Good evening Mr. Adam. Mr. Sam.”

Sam said, “Hi, Agnes.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough. I didn't want to interrupt. Would you like some ice cream?”

“Uh . . . sure.”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Alright then. Out you come. We'll go to the kitchen.” She stood there.

Sam smiled at me, then looked at her. “I'm sorry, but we're not wearing our swimsuits.”

She waited more than a few beats before replying. “I suppose you'll want some privacy, then. I'll leave you to cover up whatever it is you're embarrassed about. You know where the kitchen is.” She took a long last look into the water and waddled up the terrace to the house.

I arched one eyebrow. “She wants Mr. Buns.”

“I knew you were gonna say something like that! Just stop it, right now! I don't wanna hear it!”

“Well, she's not getting him. He's mine.”

“Stop! You're making this more awkward. We're gonna have some ice cream, and then I'm taking you to my bed. It's Monday, so I'm in control.”

“Oh, good! I forgot about that.”

Sam checked to make sure Agnes was out of sight, then climbed out of the pool and put on his shorts as quickly as he could.

***

When I woke up the next morning, Sam was hurrying around the apartment, getting dressed for work. He saw me moving and jumped onto the bed, straddling me on his hands and knees. “Good morning, sunshine! How do you feel?”

I thought about it. “Stiff.” My whole body was covered with some kind of film, and it was hard to move. He was awfully cheerful. Freshly shaved. His hair was wet, but neatly combed. So cute.

“I wanted to take a shower with you because I'm still kind of horny, but I realized my shower isn't big enough for both of us, so I let you sleep.” He gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “You're beautiful, but I have to go or I'm gonna be late. Dave doesn't like that. These sheets need to be washed. I can do it tonight. You should probably call your boss and tell him you're not coming in, right?”

“Yeah.” How could he possibly have so much energy? Oh, wait. Maybe it was the ten million calories he ingested yesterday.

“How do I look?”

“Gorgeous.”

“Stop it.”

“Then why do you ask?”

He smiled. “You'll be all by yourself today. Are you gonna miss me?”

“After I have some coffee I'll miss you. Not right now.”

“Oh, I should have made some! I'm sorry. Do you want me to do it before I go?”

“No, you'll be late.”

He kissed me again. “Thanks for everything last night. You were awesome. I feel fantastic.”

“I can hardly tell. Have a good day.”

He jumped off the bed. “I'll see you at dinner. Bye!” He bounded out the door.

I lay there on my back, feeling like I had taken an advanced yoga course the night before. The film on my skin was a combination of dried lubricant and ejaculate. The sheets around me were stiff with the same substances. Sam had humped every fold and crevice on my body at least once, but, true to his word, he didn't penetrate me. If he had, I might have been in the hospital. We would have to try that on a day when he didn't eat that much. But, in every other sense, I had been well and truly boned. And I did things to him that I had never done before. It was the most invigorating, fun and satisfying sex we had up to that point. I missed him already, even without the coffee.

I forced myself to get up, stripped the sheets off his bed, and took a shower in his bathroom. Just for fun, I tried on one of his green polo shirts with Dave's embroidered logo. It hung on me like a nightshirt. I resisted the temptation to continue going through his things and smelling his clothes. I left his apartment, locking the door on my way out, and went back to the house to call my office and my insurance company.

Later, while I was sitting in the garden making a list of the things that had been in the shed that would need to be replaced, Flora walked up the driveway with her friend, Clarence. She held out her arms, inviting me into an embrace. “Oh, Adam! Agnes told us all about the fire. I'm so sorry! You remember Clarence, don't you? He helped you purchase your truck.”

“Of course.” I shook his hand. We all turned to look at the ruins of the shed. After a few minutes of head shaking and sympathetic exclamations, I invited them to sit down at the table Sam had moved to an area of the grass that wasn't muddy.

Clarence asked, “Do the police have any ideas about who might have done it?”

I hesitated to answer, and looked at Flora. She reassured me, “You can speak freely in front of Clarence. He knows everything.” We discussed the possibility that a neighbor might have reacted to the Weasel Woman's flyer, and then I told them what Officer Hanson had shared with me about Big Ed being pulled over by the police that night. It brought Flora to tears. “I can't apologize enough, Adam. After all the work Samson put into that shed, I may never forgive myself for allowing things to get to this point. I promise that I will make it right. The Chief of Police is an old acquaintance of mine. I had no idea he was brushing Edward's offenses under the rug.”

To lighten the mood, I started telling her about all the friendly neighbors who had visited, and she was very pleased. While we were talking, Officers Mansky and Hanson walked up the driveway. I couldn't remember the last time there were so many people coming and going around my house. I stood up to greet them. “Good morning, officers. How can I help you?”

Mansky answered, “We were told that Mrs. Flora O'Neill could be found here. Is that you, Ma'am?”

“Yes, officer. How may I help you?”

Mansky held his hand up to me. “Could you step back please? I need to speak to Mrs. O'Neill.” As if I was obstructing him.

I stepped aside and stood on the driveway with Officer Hanson while Mansky spoke to Flora and Clarence. “Hey, Carl. What's up?”

“Hey, Adam. Just following up. We stopped next door and the housekeeper sent us here. He wants to question her about that fight between Sam and Big Ed.” We heard Flora getting stern with Mansky, insisting that Clarence should be present while he questioned her. “He's being an asshole, of course, but he's getting the job done.”

“You're probably not gonna like this, but I told her about Big Ed's cozy relationship with your chief. She's probably gonna say something to Mansky.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Great! I'm gonna catch hell for that, y'know.”

I grimaced. “Sorry. But I think she'll help him nail her son. She's fed up with him. I know you did me a favor by sharing that information. I don't want you to think I don't appreciate that.”

“Alright. I get it. You didn't tell Sam, did you?”

“No, I told you I wouldn't. But he knows you stopped by yesterday because he saw you leaving.”

“Oh, boy. Am I gonna have to worry about him?”

I knit my eyebrows. “I don't think so.” I thought about it. “Do you think so?”

“We'll see. I guess I won't be stopping by here anymore.”

“Well . . . why would you need to?”

He looked at the ground, then at the sky. He changed the subject. “Hey, we stopped to talk to that woman who made the flyer before we came here. Helen Van Whatever?”

“Van Wooten. I call her the Weasel Woman.”

He smiled. “I like that. It fits. She said she didn't know anything about the flyer. That didn't play well with Mansky. I think he scared the shit out of her.”

“Good. I wish I could have seen that.”

“Yeah, that's one of the good things about working with that asshole. Sometimes people deserve to be treated badly.”

Mansky finished talking with Flora and came towards us with a scowl on his face. “C'mon, Hanson. We're done here, and we need to have a conversation.” He stomped past us and headed down the driveway towards their squad car.

Carl sighed heavily. “Okay, I'll see ya, Adam. I hope. You still have my card, right?”

I smiled. “Yeah. I'm sorry about your partner. Thanks again. G'bye.” I watched him go. What a nice guy . . .

I returned to Flora and Clarence. “Such an unpleasant man!” she said. “But he seems to have some kind of integrity. I believe he will pursue this matter with Edward, and I told him I would speak to the Chief of Police.”

“When you do, could you please say something nice about Officer Hanson? He really did us a great favor, and I'm afraid he might be paying for it right now.”

“I'll put in a good word. I want you to know that Clarence had some useful information for the officer, as well. Apparently Edward has been fuming about his encounter with Samson ever since you purchased your truck.”
I thanked them both before they left. When I stood up from my chair, Flora noticed my stiffness. “Did you injure yourself, dear?”

“No, I just started a new exercise program yesterday. I guess I overdid it.”

She smiled at me knowingly. “Yes, of course. Clarence started me on one of those exercise programs this weekend. You might notice that I'm leaning more heavily on my cane today.” Clarence turned as red as a beet and hooked his arm around hers to get her away from me before she could elaborate. She called out, “Give my greetings to Samson!”

“I will. Maybe we'll come over tomorrow to use the pool.”

She stopped and turned around. “Oh, yes! Agnes told me about your visit last night. In great detail! It was the highlight of her weekend.” She laughed and continued down the driveway while I tried to rub the embarrassment off my face.

An investigator from my insurance company came over after noon to ask me a lot of questions and to take photographs. Fortunately I had taken photos of the shed after Sam restored it so I could show him how nice it was. Just as he was leaving, a middle aged man I didn't recognize walked around the corner of the house. When I looked at him he said, “I'm sorry. If you're busy I'll come back another time.”

“No, that's okay. This gentleman was just leaving.” The investigator got in his car and backed down the driveway. I looked back at the man whose posture was . . . unusual. He looked crooked, literally, as though his spine was malformed. “How can I help you?”

“Actually, I'm hoping I can help you. I'm one of your neighbors. Name's Joe. We haven't met.”

“Pleased to met you, Joe. I'm Adam.” We shook hands.

“Sorry about the fire. It's a terrible thing. Your house is beautiful. It's a shame to lose any part of these older homes.”

“I know. They don't build them like this anymore.”

“My house is about the same age as this one, maybe a few years older. My great-grandfather built it. Been in the family all this time. But it's just me and my daughter now. We're the end of the line.” I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I kept quiet. “Anyway, the reason I came over here is that my house has a garden shed, too. It's in terrible shape, but it's around the same age as the one you had.”

“You should fix it up. This one looked great before it burned, and it was a good storage space.”

“No, no. I'm not going to fix it up. I'd like to give it to you.”

“What?”

“I'd like you to take it off my hands and use it to replace your shed. It's just rotting away in my back yard. This would be a better place for it.”

“I . . . I don't know what to say. That's very generous of you.”

He smiled. “Well, you haven't seen it yet. It needs a lot of work. I can show it to you if you want. Do you have time now?”

“Uh, sure. Why not? Let me lock my house up and I'll be right back.”

We walked the short distance to his house, but he couldn't walk quickly. He explained that he had broken his back years ago after falling on a construction site where he was working. It was a disabling injury, and he hadn't worked since. He had a surprisingly good attitude about it. “It worked out pretty well, so I can be at home for my daughter. My wife is gone, so it's just the two of us.” As we approached his house, I realized he lived in one of my favorite houses in the neighborhood, a fantastic Gothic Revival place with a wraparound porch. It had seen better days, and was badly in need of a paint job, but it was a great house.

“I've always liked this house, Joe. I wondered who lived here.”

“Well, now you know. Let's walk around the back.” We went to the back yard, which was much smaller than mine. In one corner of the space, surrounded by overgrown brush and weeds, was the weather beaten shed. I loved it immediately. It was built to match the house, with frilly gingerbread trim and pointed arch windows. It did need a lot of work, but I wanted it. “So, what do you think?” he said. “Would it work for you?”

“It's beautiful! I can already see what it would look like when it's restored.”

“It's yours, then. Between you and Sam, you can figure out how to take it apart and reassemble it at your place.”

Sam? “Have you met Sam?”

“Well, sure. I thought you would know that.”

“No. How do you know him?”

“He started shoveling snow for me this past Winter. He saw my daughter and me out there one day, doing the best we could, and he just took over. Had it done in no time. I tried to offer him some money, but he wouldn't take it. Every time it snowed after that, he showed up and took care of it. Then Spring came and he started cutting the grass and trimming weeds. Never lets me pay him. Half the time I don't even see him come and go. It just gets done.”

I had to clear my throat rather vigorously. Damned emotions! “Yeah, that sounds like Sam. He never told me he was doing that for you.”

“He's a good guy. When I saw that flyer the other day, I realized where he lived. If that nasty woman is ever found dead, I'd be a prime suspect. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread that around.”

“Wait a minute. You know the woman who made that flyer?”

“I wouldn't say I know her, but I sure do hate her. She keeps complaining to the city that my house needs to be painted. She had the building inspector out here three times, so he finally had to give me a citation. He didn't want to do it, but he knew she wouldn't stop calling if he didn't. She's a mean spirited creature disguised as a Christian. I can't stand people like that.”

“I call her the Weasel Woman.”

Joe had a good long laugh about that. “That's perfect! I'm gonna call her that, too. It sure was good to meet you, Adam. My daughter should be getting home any minute. I don't mean to kick you out, but she usually wants a lot of attention from me when she gets back.”

“No problem. I'll get out of your way.” We walked back to the front of the house just as a white van pulled up.

“Oh, here she is. You can meet her before you go.” A young girl, maybe in her teens, with Down Syndrome, climbed out of the van with a pink backpack. “Hey, Susie-Q!”

“Hi Dad.”

“I want you to meet one of our neighbors. This is Adam. Adam, this is my girl, Susie.”

“It's Susan, Dad! Only you can call me Susie.”

“I'm sorry, honey. I forgot.”

“Hello, Susan.” I didn't know whether to shake her hand. How are you supposed to greet children?

“Hi, Adam. Where do you live?”

“Not far from here.” I pointed in the direction of my house.

“Adam lives in the flower house, honey. You know the one. And you know who else lives there? Sam, the guy who helps us out.”

“Sam! You know Sam?”

“Yeah. I suppose you like him.”

She shook her head. “No I don't.”

Huh? “You don't? I thought everybody liked Sam.”

“He's too big.” She made a face.

Joe shrugged and said, “She doesn't like big people. I don't know why.”

“He's just too big, Dad! People shouldn't be that big. Can we go in the house, now? I have things to show you.”

“Okay, Susie. But, you know Sam is a nice guy, right? Even if he is too big.”

“I know he helps us. I just wish he would stop getting bigger.”

Joe chuckled. “I don't think he's getting bigger, honey. That's just your imagination. Go on in. I'll be right there.”

“Bye, Adam.” She waved at me and ran into the house.

Joe smiled. “She's a character.”

“She says what she thinks. I like that. I'll talk to Sam about the shed. We'll both be home tomorrow, so maybe we can stop over and have another look at it. Thanks again. It's very kind of you to offer it.”

“Say no more. I'm happy to do it. If I'm not here when you come over, just go in the back and do whatever you want.”

I walked home with my head full of thoughts about Joe and Susan, the garden shed, the Weasel Woman, and Sam . . . my big, kind, generous, amazing Sam. I decided to buy some thick steaks. When he gets home . . . the things I'll do to him . . . I went down the street, smiling like a happy person.

*****

Continued in: Part 20

Postscript: Remember, every time someone clicks the 'Thank You' button, another paragraph gets added to the story. Your comments are wonderful. They keep me going on the next segment and make it worth my while to spend as much time on this as I do. Thank you all, sincerely.

[cutlerfan]

Another amazing part of the story! I hope Sam just keeps on growing until he is so big no one can mess with him or Adam! I sense more problems ahead for the happy couple but I hope I'm wrong! Please make sure Sam and Adam stay true to one another and together as a couple! It will be a special night indeed when Sam really fucks Adam; their relationship might never be the same afterwards. Thank you for such a hot, sweet, mysterious, funny story of Sam and Adam. Please continue this!

[hardmuscl4life]

That was thoroughly enjoyable...and as always. wonderfully written.

I found the post script helpful and somewhat interesting... "Remember, every time someone clicks the 'Thank You' button, another paragraph gets added to the story..." That reminded me of another classic from a different age which reminded us that "everytime a bell rings, an angel gets his wings."

Just so you know, that 'Thank You' button only allows for one click to be recorded... It's infuriating, the damn button disappears. I lost count of how many times I... Well, I hope you're feeling some really great "Button Karma" at this point. I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I just think it's good information.

Many Thanks as always,
George

[Mdlftr]

Myrtle[nnnrg] it's me, Gladys!

There's a new episode of "The Gardener" out! I haven't had time to read it yet. I have to get to the shops, and then I have to stop in and see Mrs. McGillicudy. But Myrtle, I'm sure it's going to be a corker! I want to see how that nice young Adam and Sam are doing!

[Gladys and Myrtle, BFF: from "Monty Python": http://www.bing.com/../indexes/images/search?q=...lectedIndex=12


Yours very truly,

Gladys

[mario2007]

Love this story. I'm such a junkie for super-strength stories, I wish there were more scenes thrown in . I was so horned up reading the part when Sam curled the front of the pickup truck for 3 reps. The imagination runs wild thinking about how strong he might possibly be!

[Lukullus]

Oh yes, this story gets better and better with every part!
Oh, I'd love to see more of Sam's strength, while Adam gropes his huge muscles! And maybe one day, Sam lets Adam measure all of his big body parts!

Well done, Reeza!

Lukullus

[henhu]

I thoroughly love this story. You might say that I'm addicted to it. Sam and Adam have developed a wonderful and endearing relationship. I'm happy to see Sam being so protective of Adam and, as he grows even more muscular and taller, he'll be a force to be reckoned with and unstoppable when provoked to anger. Thanks for posting and of course, I want more!

[joel24242]

Everytime, I read one of your chapters I just completely loose myself in the story. It is such a joy and privilege to read this wonderful world you have created with your characters. I love how much depth your characters have. Even though Adam finds it difficult to interact with people he has mixed emotions over, it sure makes for a more believable and enjoyable experience to read.

Thank you.

[rairf]

Oooh. A Monday chapter is coming. Can't wait. This one was great. A corn on the cob BJ? I guess that's why there's rule 34.

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by rairf

Oooh. A Monday chapter is coming. Can't wait. This one was great. A corn on the cob BJ? I guess that's why there's rule 34.

Okay, I'll bite . . . what's rule 34?

[HeavensNight]

Originally Posted by Reeza

Okay, I'll bite . . . what's rule 34?

"If it exists, there's porn of it" basically.

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by HeavensNight

"If it exists, there's porn of it" basically.

Oh! Thanks. So maybe this will start a new fetish for people who love corn and cock. I would be so proud!

[HugestFuckGod]

Originally Posted by Reeza

Oh! Thanks. So maybe this will start a new fetish for people who love corn and cock. I would be so proud!

Actually I thought the lasagna was going to be involved in that scene... but as always... AMAZING, WONDERFUL, AWESOME, SUPER, COOL, GREAT, (etc. more words of praise) but seriously, this IS my favorite story, no, novel I have every read, I think you could publish this (maybe with some tweaking to make the chapters flow into each other like in a book)

[nnnrg]

I spend just two days trying to pack stuff so I can move and you come up with a new chapter!

And ... which one am I, Gladys or Myrtle?

Anyway. Corn on the Cob had me laughing for a good ten minutes, and then wondering about ... anyway. Ahem. I suspect I know why Susan dislikes big people. It's hard to see them all at once, and they're different so you have to decide "is this really a person?"

[xmrr20a]

I have to find a new title for my responses to this great story. Love the writing, the story, the humor - simply everything about it!! Also love the strength!

If I could press the Than You bottom hundreds of times, I would!

[Mdlftr]

Originally Posted by nnnrg

I spend just two days trying to pack stuff so I can move and you come up with a new chapter!

And ... which one am I, Gladys or Myrtle?

Anyway. Corn on the Cob had me laughing for a good ten minutes, and then wondering about ... anyway. Ahem. I suspect I know why Susan dislikes big people. It's hard to see them all at once, and they're different so you have to decide "is this really a person?"

You're Myrtle, actually. Gladys was a little high from the cleaning products she uses around the house when she called you by her name.

Great story!

[anpuZA]

The... ahhh, link for Part 20 seems to be broken. Be a dear and fix it, wont you? And soon.

Please.

[rairf]

Originally Posted by HeavensNight

"If it exists, there's porn of it" basically.

Don't look too deeply into this rule. You'll end up with car batteries and muumuus.

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by nnnrg

I spend just two days trying to pack stuff so I can move and you come up with a new chapter!

WHAT?! You can't rearrange your life to read my story?!! I guess you're not a true fan anymore. AnpuZA gave up half his weekend to read all 19 chapters, but you can't take time away from relocating! Hmph!

(Reeza crawls under dining room table to pout. Gives up writing forever.)

[anpuZA]

Originally Posted by rairf

Don't look too deeply into this rule. You'll end up with car batteries and muumuus.

Haha! Car Batteries and muumuus! Wait... what?

[rairf]

anpuZA- you know you're tempted to look for muumuu porn now. Just resist looking.

[Mdlftr]

Originally Posted by rairf

anpuZA- you know you're tempted to look for muumuu porn now. Just resist looking.

anpuZU - NO muumuu porn!

Not EVEN this: http://www.westcoastbodybuilding.com/dragna/Thumbs1.htm

[Made you look!]

[Tibo]

It was hard to dislike her, even for an expert like me.

Ha!

"Come and visit us any time, okay?" Yes, I actually said that. Can you believe it?

Not really, no. I hope Adam hasn't developed brain cancer, Reeza!

I have to say that Jackie and Jack made me uncomfortable by only reading the conversation. Very good work, Reeza!

Yeah. Sam is . . . a good guy. As long as you don't piss him off.

Oh, I hope there's some story behind that remark.

On another note: Is it just me or is everybody here misreading "Hanson" for "Handsome" every time?

?Sam! You know Sam??

?Yeah. I suppose you like him.?

She shook her head. ?No I don't.?

Huh? ?You don't? I thought everybody liked Sam.?

?He's too big.? She made a face.

Joe shrugged and said, ?She doesn't like big people. I don't know why.?

?He's just too big, Dad! People shouldn't be that big. Can we go in the house, now? I have things to show you.?

?Okay, Susie. But, you know Sam is a nice guy, right? Even if he is too big.?

?I know he helps us. I just wish he would stop getting bigger.?

Joe chuckled. ?I don't think he's getting bigger, honey. That's just your imagination. Go on in. I'll be right there.?

?Bye, Adam.? She waved at me and ran into the house.

Joe smiled. ?She's a character.?

Oh, nice. Some people notice. I wonder what'll happen when others find out about Sam's little secret.


I can't wait for the next instalment!