Handling Daryl's Tools

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Artwork (c) 2004 by Roscoe.

Illustration of Handling Daryl's Tools

I ran into the garage and the darkness was a cool benediction out of the sun. There was light inside, though, the bright-blue sparkling music of an arclight that Daryl was plying over the frame of a car. I walked up, blinking at the too-bright light.

“Hey, Craig, turn away from the light!” Daryl snapped as he stopped and raised his welder’s mask to show his square jaws and blue eyes. “You want to go blind?”

“Nuh-uh.” I said, backing away.

“You can’t look at welding without protection.” Daryl chided me. “You know that.”

“Ye-e-e-e-a-ah.” I admitted.

“So why do you keep looking?” Daryl wanted to know.

“The light’s so...pretty.” I said, and blushed at the word. I was seven years old, and knew that guys weren’t supposed to think things were pretty. Maybe I should have said “nice” instead.

Daryl looked at me, and then he laughed. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it, sport!” he said, punching my arm lightly.

I grinned and punched his fat bicep back, he bent over so I could do that, and that gave me a whiff of him. I loved the way Daryl smelled, kind of deep and strong and oily and salty and dark. The smell of Daryl made me feel kind of funny inside, a sort of tingle right in my stomach that wouldn’t go away, I described it to Mother without telling her why and she said it was “butterflies” but that’s just silly. It did have a fluttery feel to it, like butterfly wings. But how would they get in there?

I had the butterflies then and I said, “What’cha doing today?”

“Working the dents out of a frame.” he said. “‘Cept I’m about done here. You want to watch, you go put on the spare goggles.”

I did and watched him finish. Only I was watching Daryl, really, the way his body was shaped the way I hoped mine would be some day, his arms full and round, his shoulders broad, his chest massive, his waist slim and flat. When he was done, he took off the welder’s mask, showing his brown hair all raised up and disarranged by the band of the mask.

“Your mother know you’re over here?” Daryl asked me.

“Uh-huh.” I said.

“School let out early?” He asked me.

“Uh-huh.” I said, watching how the light glowed over his bicep in a smooth silver line, like a bright blue crescent moon. The sparks flew as he welded, his arm didn’t flinch even when they landed on him. The sparks had burned off most of his arm hairs on his right arm, his left still had most of them. Just a mark of his job, fixing cars.

“You’re about done with school, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” I said, “Only five more days until summer break.”

“Okay.” He said. “Done here.” He said, getting up, and wiping his hands on a rag he kept in his back pocket. “So what are you going to do all day while your mom’s at work?”

It was how Daryl and I had gotten to know each other. Mom had brought her car in to be fixed and they’d been talking, Mom simpering as he smiled at her with his easy, clean, white smile. She’d told him how she worked as a waitress in a diner in the mornings and afternoons, so she could spend the rest of the days with me. It had worked fine all the school year, with me riding to school with her on her way to work, and then me coming home just an hour before her. It made me a latchkey kid, but only for an hour. Daryl’s garage was only about three blocks from our house, and he’d offered to let me hang out with him each day rather than go home. But Mom also had Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, and as this was a Tuesday, she had been home most of the day. It was only one o’clock, but today had been a half-day of school.

“I dunno.” I said to his question as to what we’d do for the summer vacation. “Can I stay here with you?”

“All day?” Daryl said to me. “Wouldn’t you get bored?”

“Nu-uh.” I said. “I could help you fix the cars and...and stuff.”

Daryl chuckled at that. “You want me to break the child labor laws?” he asked me.


“I can’t hire a seven-year-old.” he said. “You know that.”

“I know.” I agreed. “But I could stay with you and we could talk and...and stuff.”

“Well, maybe you could do things like hand me tools and things.” Daryl said. “You want to try it out with me? I got to work on the blue Buick now, the woman’s coming to pick it up at five o’clock.” Daryl really didn’t mind having me around. His little garage was out of the way and not very well known, he didn’t have much work to do at all. The frame he was working on was a car he was restoring a little at a time, and he had a blue Buick in there which was new, and that was all, his own little red economy car took up the rest of it. Many times there would be nobody around except for me and him until my Mom came to pick me up or I had to go home to her.

“Okay.” I said eagerly. “What do I do?”

“Just be ready to give me a hand where I need it.” he said to me. “You can start by helping me wheel my tool box over to the Buick.”

His tool box was this big square box on wheels, and I think I could have pushed it all by myself if I’d had to. Daryl and I got it over and he said, “Now, Craig, first I’m going to need a 7/16ths socket wrench. Let’s see you find it.”

I looked, the tool box had names on it already. Top row was labeled, “Wrenches” and I pulled it open, looked. And looked. And looked. “I don’t see 7/16ths.” I said. “Just 12 and 18 and 24 and 36 and such.”

Daryl laughed. “Ever heard of the metric system? Those are the metric wrenches.”

“Oh.” I said, and opened the next drawer. “Ah, here they are!” I said and ran my fingers over the wrenches. “3/4ths, 5/8ths, 13/16ths, 15/16ths, 7/16ths, here it is!” I said and pulled out a wrench.

Daryl looked at it and it was like he was trying not to laugh at me. “What’d I do wrong now?” I asked plaintively. “It’s a 7/16ths, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” he said. “Only it’s not a socket wrench.”

“Oh...yeah.” I said. “I knew that.” And I looked in the other half of the same drawer, where the sockets were kept. Small cylinders all in a row. “Here it is.”

“Now I need the wrench.” he said as he took it.

That was easier, the big handles were right alongside. “Which one. Big, middle or little?”

“The middle one.”

I handed it over and Daryl smiled. “Okay, you look over the tools while I get to work and be ready to give me the right tool when I ask for it.”

That wasn’t the hopeless task it might have seemed, each drawer had the tool labeled with its name, you could be an absolute idiot and still know which was the ballpeen hammer and which was the claw hammer.

I looked down at Daryl after I had an idea just where everything was. Daryl was lying on one of those rolling boards they use to get under cars and out again without squirming around. His head and shoulders were up under the car, and one hand was busy under there as well, the other hand was resting on his chest. “I need you to hand me a small hammer.” he said to me. “This damned nut is stuck.”

“Which hammer?” I asked him.

“The smallest one.” He said. “This mother is up in there.”

One of the hammers was a tack hammer, it was smallest of the group. I handed it to him. “Will this one do?”

“Perfect.” Daryl said, taking the hammer. “You’re handy to have around.” he said.

“Thanks.” I grinned, got down on my knees next to him, and then down onto my hands, so I could see. Except I couldn’t and I ended up leaning over him. I thought I would be able to sort of hover over him, but I ended up resting on top of him, my chest on him.

I wondered if I’d bother him, but he just grinned at me. “Trying to see what I’m doing?”

“Uh-huh.” I said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah.” he said. “This is kind of boring, most of the time. I have to take off all these nuts, most of them are stuck more or less and it can take a while.” He gave the wrench handle another rap and it turned a little.

I watched him and my hand went down to try to rest a bit of my weight on it, and that put my hand on Daryl’s stomach. Right on his pants waistband at the top button. I felt the round flat warm nub of metal there. It rolled under my finger, and I began to kind of roll it around and around in a circle, pressing each side down all around, and Daryl just chuckled again. “Having fun there, Craig?”

“Uh-huh.” I said and rested my head on his chest, my chin digging into one bulging breast. I felt another button lower down and moved my hand down to it and began to spin it.

Wondered if there were more of the buttons. Ought to be more, yes? And there was, but that’s not what my hand hit. A large bulge was there, kind of soft and yet firm. I felt it over, trying to figure it out.

“Uh! Uh!” Daryl said. “Craig, what are you doing?” His eyes were wide open, but not looking surprised. Just...alert.

“What is this?” I said, genuinely curious. And then I realized it. “It’s your wienie, isn’t it, huh?”

“Yeah.” Daryl said. “Didn’t you know that?”

“Uh-uh.” I said. “It’s so much bigger than mine, and it’s, it’s kind of, of, hard.”

“Yeah.” Daryl said. “It gets that way.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re touching it, silly.” Daryl said and he touched my nose with a grimy-finger. “You touch a wienie and it gets hard.”

“Mine doesn’t.” I said. “Why is yours getting hard?” I felt it, it was harder than ever now.

“Because you’re touching it.” Daryl said.

“Does it hurt you when it gets hard like this?” I asked.

“No, it doesn’t hurt.” Daryl said, and paused. “It feels good, really. It gets hard when it feels good.”

“It gets hard because I’m touching it and it feels good, huh?” I said, glad to get this figured out.

“Yeah.” Daryl said, and the word was more breath than sound.

“How does it feel?” I asked.

Daryl’s hand nearest me went up and soon he was touching me at my crotch. His fingertips found my little dick and he said, as he rubbed at it. “It feels like that.”

“Mmm.” I said. “Feels nice.”

“Yeah, real nice.” Daryl agreed, and I rubbed him harder than ever. His eyes closed, his hand lowered and he forgot about the nuts he was loosening under the car. “That feels real nice.”

I got an idea and rose up onto my knees and sat back on my heels again, and my hands went to Daryl’s pants. I had never unbuttoned a man’s jeans before, but they weren’t too hard to get open after I figured it out. And that big wienie in Daryl’s pants was almost jerking as I did it. I looked at him, wondering if he would mind, but he was watching me, licking his lips and his eyes practically begged me to keep doing it. His chest was moving faster now, rising and falling.

And I got the pants open and his jockstrap was underneath that, the white ribs of cloth. I felt the cock inside of it, that throbbing pole was really warm. “Wow, that’s really warm.” I said.

“Yeah, it’s warm.” Daryl said. “Go ahead, take it out. All the way out.”

I fumbled until I got my hand inside the top of his jockstrap and then I reached in and when my fingers touched the bare flesh of his cock, my first reaction was surprise. “It’s sticky!” I said. My fingers were touching the head of his cock and it was all covered with something wet and sticky. “Did you pee in your pants?” That was all I could think of.

“No, no, it’s not pee, it’s just a bit of precome.” Daryl said. “It’s different from pee, it’s stickier.”

“Smells better, too.” I said. That smell, the one of Daryl that I liked, it was stronger now, and I realized the smell was coming from the sticky ooze. I lifted it up to my nose to sniff, yep, that was it, and then I touched my tongue to it. Salty, slippery stuff.

“Ooh, oh, yeah, lick it off.” Daryl said. “Lick off that precome, taste it for me, kid, taste it for me.”

So I reached down and this time I rubbed all the stuff off his cockhead that I could, came up with my fingers all gooey with it, and I put them on my tongue and I licked it. Daryl watched my tongue avidly as I did, and he groaned as I tasted again that salty slick slime. “You like that?”

Daryl asked me. “You like the taste of Daryl, huh?”

“Yeah.” I agreed. I reached down and got his jockstrap out of the way now, his cock was a hard pole standing straight up and I got a good grip on it.

“Yeah, now, pump it for me, pump it, pump my man tool for me.” Daryl panted. “Show me you know how to handle a tool.”

It took more than that, but with a bit of coaching, I soon realized I was to hang onto his cock and pump my hand back and forth, working that slick skin over his prick. That made more of the slippery stuff come out and it was slopping back and forth on the cockhead as I worked his dick.

“Want another taste?” Daryl encouraged me.

“Sure.” I said.

“Why not take it right off with your tongue?” He suggested. “It’ll be warmer that way, bet it’ll taste better.”

I was reluctant, I mean, a guy’s wienie is where he pisses out of, but the stuff hadn’t tasted that bad, I gave Daryl the benefit of the doubt and obediently leaned over and took his cockhead into my mouth and sucked the sticky stuff off his prick.

“Oh, oh, oohhhh!” Daryl groaned when I did that. “Yeah, suck it some more for me, suck it some more, yeah, more.”

His hand came down onto my head and while he didn’t hold me tight, he made it clear he wanted me to stay there.

And he was right, his cock tasted just fine. All salty and hot and that sticky stuff even tasted a lot better, and it was more liquid there, too. I got a nice taste of it and swallowed it down.

“Now suck it for me.” Daryl said again. “Suck it like it was a candy-pop. Just the same way, you can do it for me, please, do it, do it.”

With Daryl urging me, I was ready for whatever he wanted, to have him wanting me like this. He’d always been so kind to me, and so much of our togetherness had been him putting up with me. But not here, not now. Now, he needed me, needed me!

I began to suck on Daryl’s cock just like he said, like I could suck all the flavor right out of it. When I did, Daryl began to hunch up and down and I got the idea after a time from the way he moved (he wasn’t forcing me to do it, just his motions said what he wanted from me, and I would try it and that would let him suggest more). Soon I had my head bobbing up and down and he was groaning mightily.

“Ah, ah, baby, yeah, suck it baby, suck it!” he gasped out. “Oh, baby, so hot, so hot, baby, yeah!”

But my mouth got tired in a hurry. I got worse at it, not better, after a time and Daryl seemed to realize it. “Go ahead and rest, Craig.” he said, his chest heaving now, his breath hot and husky.

I was disappointed, though. “I didn’t do it right.” I complained.

“You did fine for a first time.” Daryl said. “It takes practice, that’s all. Just rest a while and you can try again.”

“But I wanted to be a good helper for you.” I complained. “If you like me, I can stay here with you all summer...can’t I?”

“Sure you can.” Daryl agreed. “Sure you can.”

I took hold of his hard, now slippery wet cock, and I said, “This isn’t what they do in the movies, is it?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes they show a man and woman in bed and they are lying on top of each other.” I said. “This isn’t that, is it?”

“No.” Daryl admitted. “They’re doing something else.” He looked at me appraisingly. “Would you like to learn that?”

“Can I do it without getting tired?” I asked.

“Sure.” He said. “It may hurt a little, though. But I’ll be gentle as I can and let you get used to it. You want to try?”

“Sure.” I said eagerly. “I’m your little helper, aren’t I?”

“You sure are.” Daryl agreed. “You just take those pants of yours off and get me the grease gun.”

Puzzled, I obeyed, I knew the grease gun, a big thing that you pumped and got a thick yellow goo out of. Daryl got up and dropped his pants down to his ankles, and said, “Now you squirt a big glob of that grease right here into my hand for me.”

I did that gladly, I loved working the grease gun, seeing the yellow pasty stuff come out. I got him a thick dollop and he said “Stop.” and I did and he said, “Now, let’s try what those men and women do like you see on television. You ready to really handle my tool for me?”

“Sure.” I said eagerly and he extended his hand down to me. “Then get yourself a glob of this and work it into my dick for me.” I did that, enjoying the feel of his cock, that got harder all over again and I was able to pump it so easily now that I had it all slippery with grease. Then, I was surprised as I watched him reach down behind me with the rest of the grease, why was he doing that?

Then the greasy stuff hit my butt and I went “ooh!” because it was really cold! “That’s cold!” I complained.

“It’ll warm up, sorry.” he said. “Just spread your legs and let me squeeze some of this in there for you.”

“You want to stick that up my butthole?” I said. “Why?”

“Because that’s where we’re going to put my dick.” Daryl said. “If you’ll let me. You’re a sport, aren’t you? You’ll let me do this, won’t you?”

“I guess.” I was doubtful, but when his greased fingers got inside my butt, I stopped complaining entirely. It felt...good! Really good, to have his slippery finger moving easily in and out of my butt, the skin was so sensitive that it just felt great. “Ooh, ooh, that’s nice!” I said after a time. “I like that, I like that a lot.”

“You ready for my dick, then?” Daryl wanted to know.

“Sure.” I said.

Daryl lay down on his dolly again and said, “Then you squat down over me and we’ll do this easy.”

I did as he said, one leg on either side and I squatted down as he aimed his big, slippery, greased-up prick right at my butthole.

The cockhead was so big! I wasn’t able to take it at first, and at Daryl’s urging I lay down on top of his body and his cockhead was at my butthole and he gently pushed it up into me and I lay on him and let him do it like that.

I looked right into his eyes and him into mine as we did it, as his cock entered me, I looked into his eyes. They were so blue, so soft, they spoke to me so kindly, and his lips formed a kiss and I reached for it and got that kiss.

“You’re my little boy.” Daryl said to me when that kiss ended. “You’re mine now, Craig, all mine.”

I had never had a father, my mother refused to talk about him at all. I didn’t have a picture or anything to tell me who my father was. But now...now I had Craig, and he wanted me and he loved me. “I love you, Daryl.” I said to him.

“I love you, too, Craig.” Daryl said to me, and I hugged him fiercely, tears stinging my eyes.

His cock went into me then, went in easy. My body didn’t protest any more, not at all. Daryl wanted me and I was giving myself to him just anyway he wanted me, he had me. I was his, now, I belonged to him. You have to not belong to anyone to know how precious that is, and my body didn’t argue, it just let him into me.

“That’s got it.” Daryl breathed to me. “That’s got it into you, Craig. Now, we just have to move it back and forth like we did before. We’ll do it a little at a time.....”

And I sat up and I began to work my hips back and forth and Daryl gasped! I was riding his cock and I was riding it right away and he was surprised as he could be! “Craig, Craig, oh, yeah!” Daryl gasped. “Oh, baby, my little baby, yeah!”

“Oh, oh, yeah!” I said in return. It felt wonderful, his dong up inside me, I still only had about half of it, and that was enough and I felt his prick rubbing pleasure all over my insides.

“Oh, oh, yeah, baby, yeah, you’re so good!” Daryl groaned. “Oh, baby, I’m going to come now, I’m going to come. Oh, oh, oh!”

“What’s come?” I asked.

“It’s when...I shoot...some stuff...up inside you...because...I love you!” Daryl gasped out.

“Oh, yeah, then come now, shoot it in me, please!” I begged. I didn’t know all about it by any means, but if him shooting it meant he loved me, then I was ready for it!

Daryl grunted harder, faster, higher, louder, and then he went, uh-uh-uh-uh-HUHHH!” And then he was coming inside me.

I felt it, hot and soft and sleek inside me, it was like liquid love, it was filling me up and I loved it!

“Oh, yeah, come in me, Daryl, yes, more, yes, more!” I urged him.

And he was gurgling like a baboon I’d seen on a documentary, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh! And I felt his sticky come inside me and it was terrific and even when it dribbled out of me, I didn’t care, Daryl had loved me and I loved him loving me!

That’s when I had it, myself, my own little orgasm. It was just as shattering as his was in its own way and nothing came out of my dick but I was shuddering from the raw pleasure of it and I was still shuddering when Daryl was done and he held me while I quivered and he pulled me down and I rested on his broad chest and he patted my head and back with his big hands.

“Ooh, ooh, oh, that felt good!” I said when I was done.

“You enjoyed it, too, huh?” Daryl asked.

“Uh-huh!” I said emphatically. “That was great!”

“You were great.” Daryl clarified. “My wonderful little buddy, you don’t know all your tools yet, but you sure know the right way to handle the tool between my legs.”

“Yeah!” I agreed enthusiastically.

He rubbed my head and then we heard a car pull up in front of his garage. “Jesus, Mrs. Conner!” Daryl said. “Quick, get your clothes on, she’s here for her car.”

I did, pointing out. “But you’re not done with it.”

“I know.” Daryl said. “But you let me worry about it. Better you get back to your home just now.”

“Okay.” I said. “See you again tomorrow.”

“You better.” Daryl said as he pulled his pants together and buttoned them up, securing his wet, greasy prong. “You’re my little helper now. You handle all the tools in here from now on.”

“Cool!” I said and took off back home.

Mom looked up when I got there. “Well, what did he say?” she wanted to know.

“He wants me to help him in his garage all summer.” I informed her happily. “I’m going to be his little helper.”

She sighed in relief. There wasn’t enough money to hire me a babysitter, and where I was going to stay while she worked had been a problem. “He’ll let you stay with him all day, then?” she asked again.

“Yeah.” I said. “My job is to handle Daryl's tools, and says I handle them better’n anyone he knows!”

“That’s good.” Mom said and sat back. “But you better take really good care of his tools.”

“Don’t worry.” I said confidently. “I will!”

Especially my favorite tool of all!


Comments, complaints or suggestions?
E-mail me at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

(The Story You Just Read is Available in "The Games That Men Play 2" book)