. his smile was sexy and I was getting rock-hard....

Almost immediately we heard the sounds of someone coming through the bushes and a tall, gangly black guy, maybe about 50 years old, suddenly appeared with a rucksack. He made his way towards us, a lanky swagger to his step. I had had no time to get my raging hard-on into my shorts or my clothes on, and my mate had his cock out so it was really obvious what was going on. But our visitor was pretty cool. A trespasser just as we were, he said
"Hey guys, I won't tell if you don't!" 
"Sure thing, mate" I replied, and with that he winked at us, flashed us a white smile with a flash of gold in it and started to climb up a drainpipe and hoisted his rangy frame over onto the roof of the building where he must have been squatting. He climbed so easily... (I caught a good view of his firm ass as he climbed and saw his big, low-hanging balls between his legs in his worn-out overalls - he must have been going commando, which made me even. The two girls drove away to collect the children in Jill's car and I drove back to the office, thinking unwelcome thoughts.Back in my, by now, almost deserted office I returned to my usual Monday evening routine. For a few years by then it had been Jill's habit to take the children to her sister's house on Monday evenings for a visit. She and the children would eat there and our children would play with Wendy's kids until about eight. Jill did this on Mondays because usually I was late home that day. It's amazing how many little problems come to light on the shop floor over the weekend when I wasn't around to sort them; consequently my Mondays were fairly busy.I'd generally knock-off about seven; then stop in the pub for a pint and steak before going home, usually arriving about the same time as Jill and the children. Was it habit or could you call it routine? I have no idea, but that's how Mondays had gone for as long as I cared to remember.But, routine was one thing that Monday.
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