He was supposed to be doing my lawn for $25.00 a week. But then things went gay for pay …
By: John S.
How does anyone ever talk about something like this? I suppose the best way is to tell you about my gay for pay experience is to just come out and do it.
I’m a 45-year-old guy living on the Gulf Coast of Florida. Two years ago, I decided to hire someone to take care of my lawn. Choosing to do this didn’t come easy because I’ve always enjoyed the work.
There’s just something calming about mowing each row of grass and tracking your progress, you know?
But because of the increasing responsibilities of my job (I own a small private business), I found myself in a situation where the time to do it just wasn’t there. And so I decided to take to Craig’s List to find someone in their labor gigs section.
I still have the advertisement:
21-year-old man needs to make money before going to school this fall. Will take care of your lawn this summer. I am dependable, reliable, and experienced with landscaping.
It sounded just perfect. My lawn isn’t massive or anything and so hiring a professional landscaper really didn’t make sense. Plus, it felt kind of good to know that I might be helping out someone who needed extra cash for school. I was in college once and know how expensive it can be.
Shortly after responding to listing, I got a message back. He called himself Brandon* and he told me that he had lots of experience with small lawns and hedges. What’s more, he said he even had his own equipment, including trimmers.
We set up a meeting at my home the very next morning.
When he knocked on the door, I just about fell over. I have no way to accurately describe Brandon. Ever see the guy below on Instagram with the pretty blue-green eyes? That what he looked like.
I’m including the pic here but this is not him. Just sharing as a reference point.
Brandon was (well is) 6’3, muscular, mostly clean shaven with a little face fuzz around the jaw. I’ll never forget the black gym shorts he showed up in and white T-shirt, which seemed to fit his torso like a glove.
“What’s up man – can I see the job?” he asked after we shook hands.
As I walked him around the front and backyard, we made small talk about the neighborhood and the weather. When we got to the hedges, he stopped for a minute and ran his fingers through a patch of leaves. “These might require trimming more frequently.”
We did some more talking and Brandon agreed to come by two times a month on Saturday afternoons.
At $25.00 bucks a visit, it seemed like a win-win.
For the first two months, Brandon showed up dutifully. He started with the lawnmower and then when he was done, he used his own trimmers to shape the hedges. We always found time to talk during his visits and I found myself looking forward to bi-monthly visits.
I would be a liar if I told you that I didn’t watch as he did his work. It’s not like I was glued to the window or anything but I’m sure he could tell that I was eyeing him.
And so one Saturday morning in late May, after he was done mowing, he knocked on the backdoor and asked for a bottle of water. I was happy to oblige.
I could tell he was a bit troubled.
We sat at the kitchen table and talked about his upcoming plans for school in the fall. He would be attending a state college on a partial sports scholarship so that he could earn a degree in physical education.
But during our chat, he kept hinting that he was worried about having enough money to get by.
At the conversation continued, Brandon opened up about his family problems. His dad was out of work, his mom was disabled and the family was having financial difficulties; issues that might impact his ability to go to college in the fall.
Sitting there and watching his face, he seemed very sincere. I felt bad for him.
“What sucks is my controlling girlfriend is trying to get me go to community college and I don’t want to,” he said. “Part of the reason I want to go this fall is to get away from my family … and her.”
We spent a little time talking about different ways for him to make quick money but none of them seemed viable since he would be leaving in a few months.
Let me say here there was nothing about this guy that “pinged” gay. Maybe my gadar is off with these millennials but Brandon just didn’t make me think he was into guys.
That’s why I was kind of stunned when the conversation turned to “alternative” ways to make money – a discussion that he started.
“I have a buddy who dances at gay bars. You are gay dude – right?” he asked as he looked right at me.
There’s no way Brandon didn’t know I was gay. Not once did I talk about women and I had a pride magnet on the fridge.
He went on to then talk about how his friend made money on the side doing “private shows” with “gay dudes” at their homes; people who had hit on him while dancing.
As we sat there, I started to wonder: Is Brandon trying to get me to hire him for sex?
The answer to that question would be eventually answered when I told him that I didn’t think there was anything wrong with what his buddy was doing.
After an awkward silence, he said the following:
“Would you hire anyone for privates?”
I told him that yes – I would if the guy was right. I just didn’t see a problem with it. I mean hey, I was once his age had done lots of different things to earn cash that weren’t exactly legal.
No, I wasn’t a prostitute but I did let guys pay my bills in return for “favors” if you know what I mean.
As we continued talking, I could feel myself getting really anxious but excited all at the same time. And Brandon could sense it too.
“Hang on man – I’ll be right back!” he said. “I’m going to get something out of my truck.”
When he came back, he had a one hitter with a little bit of grass in it. “Let’s try this man – it will be fun.”
It had been ages since I smoked weed; like 20 years. We each took a hit off his glass pipe and continued talking.
“I’d let some guy blow me for $100.00 dawg.” he laughed, the emerald green in his eyes looking a little extra glossy.
What happened next is pretty much how it went down. I jokingly called him on his bluff and was ready to say, “I’m just playing with you,” in case he was yanking my chain.
There was only half of me that believed he was being real – you know?
“You got the cash man?” he asked, as he lightered up another hit.
Calling him on his bluff, I went to a small safe I have in the bedroom. I grabbed five twenties and returned, plopping it on the table.
That’s when things just got weird but also just really hot.
Brandon was nice about it but laid down the ground rules. He wouldn’t touch me at all, meaning no kissing or anything like that. The only thing I was allowed to do was oral on him – that was it.
After I agreed, he stood up, looked around a bit and closed all of the window shades. He then leaned up against the kitchen sink and removed his t-shirt; his gym shoes and shorts were all that remained.
He was obviously a little nervous because it took him awhile to pop wood. But as I worked on him in the kitchen, things eventually improved until he went solid.
In case you are wondering, Brandon wasn’t super long but he also wasn’t tiny. I’ll leave it to your imagination to fill in the blanks but think along the lines of toilette paper role girth.
As I drained him, he never looked at me during the entire time. And not once did he touch me, except to put his hand on my shoulder here and there.
But I didn’t expect anything more because of the rules he had laid down.
Just before he released, he warned me. I know some of you are swallowers but honestly, that just has never been my thing. He stroked his wood until he let loose, which was mildly impressive.
When he finished, he put his t-shirt back on and let out a laugh, adding, “Hey man, that was fun!”
And then Brandon left, grabbing the money off the table on the way out the door.
There would be a good 6 or so additional encounters that would happen over the course of the summer. Sometimes they would happen when he came to cut the lawn, Other times, they were simply for the purpose of the “privates”.
As time went on, he became less nervous and even seemed to get into it. There were times he would even pose, like the hot guy in the picture below (no, this isn’t Brandon either).
In any event, our arrangement was always the same. We never did anything more than the BJ thing and I would be a liar if I suggested otherwise.
I haven’t talked to Brandon in some time. Last I heard, he was completing his degree and moving to Colorado. He has long broken up with his girlfriend and has since met someone new.
All I know is that it is a girl he’s in school with – I don’t know much else. Does what we did make him a heteroflexible? Who knows, maybe.
The ending here was probably anti-climactic. I figured it’s better to tell it like it really happened instead of adding a bunch of BS that didn’t.
Oh, I’ve found someone new to take care of my lawn. He’s no “Brandon” but he does a good job!
*Name changed at author’s request
Do you have something you would like to share with readers? Why not send us your pitch today for consideration?