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MP-132 Cocky Crew
Cocky Crew
Manpower
(Same as HIS69-222)
MP-132
Pete Robertson
$3.95
Excerpt
“Guys, I’d like you to meet Gerhard Veidt. Gerhard is from Germany and will be working with us from now on. I hope you’ll all make him feel at home.” Mark completed the introductions, introducing Gerhard to each of the men in turn, but Chuck barely heard the exchange of names and the polite small talk around him as he stared at the young German beside Mark. Chuck tried to decide whether he’d ever seen a more perfect specimen of raw masculine beauty. He decided he hadn’t. Gerhard was a blond giant, taller than Chuck, who was a sturdy six-one, and weighing in, Chuck guessed, at about one-ninety, with a natural build—smooth, without the sharp definition that guys who were into bodybuilding sought, but solidly muscular and clearly the product of hard work and hard, athletic play. He was dressed much the same way Chuck and the other construction workers were: scuffed work boots; hips, gunfighter style, to hold equipment; thin tank top, that had to stretch taught to fit over Gerhard’s huge shoulders and deep barrel chest. His bare arms bulged with hard muscle beneath their dark tan, and a yellow hard hat dangled from one big hand. The face was clean-shaven, virile, with smoothly symmetrical features and extraordinary light blue eyes, so light they almost seemed colorless in the fierce morning sunlight. The lips, set in the perennial smile that Mark had mentioned, were full and red, parting to reveal a double row of the whitest teeth Chuck had ever seen outside a toothpaste commercial on television. Gerhard had long, thick silky blond hair, bleached blonder here and there by the sun.
“And this is Chuck—Chuck McCord,” Mark said, completing the round of introductions and saving Chuck for the last. “Chuck’s new to California too.”
“How do you do,” Gerhard murmured, in the same deep lightly-accented voice with which he’d responded to the other men’s greetings. His handshake was firm. Chuck wanted to grip those big, sunburned fingers hard, pull the tall blond to him in a crushing bearhug, and taste that kissable mouth. Instead, he controlled himself with an effort and replied warmly but with an appropriately butch restraint. But at that moment when their hands had touched, Chuck had sworn that he’d get into Gerhard’s tight pants and find out if the bulge in the crotch of them was as big as it appeared. Chuck simply had to have this particular number—sooner or later. By fair means or foul!
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