October something. I lose track of the days. There’s a power saw buzzing next door. Curiosity drives me insane and I find myself in the tiny plot of grass that separates Marcos from me. Here, I stand among the various types of grass and observe him at work, sawing two-by-fours for another carpentry project. I study his every movement, which consists of his arched back with its beautiful muscles, bulging biceps as he carries freshly cut wood into the house, constricting abs from picking up tools off the dry earth.
“Beautiful,” escapes my mouth; a whisper in the afternoon shade, still hidden among the grass like some kind of jungle creature, unseen and being a voyeur. And here, happiness is discovered, but only temporarily.
Of course I grow hard between my legs, building an erection, excit
