Get back to work.

Groaning in frustration, Jason **** himself to leave his throbbing cock alone and get back to work, pushing back the netting and harvesting the strawberries. It was hot work - and while not exactly backbreaking, it did require a lot of bending down and by the time he finished the last lot his back was squeaking it's protests and he was glad to take out his pruning sheers and clip away at the small lemon tree near the back fence.

"Afternoon, Jason," a friendly and familiar voice drifted over the fence.
"Afternoon, Mr. Robinson," Jason said, looking over with a grin that froze on his face.

Mr. Robinson had long finished cutting the grass in his yard, and the push mower stood off to the side of the porch with a bag of grass clippings while the man himself, lightly tanned and shirtless lounged on the porch drinking a cold beer. Jason's eyes flicked down to the tiny athletic shorts his neighbour wore, imagining the strained, old jockstrap within, covering the sizable bulge of... he came back to his senses in time to realise he was being addressed

"...you it's Christopher."
Jason blushed, jerking his eyes away from his neighbour's crotch. "Sorry Mr. Robinson, it's a habit."
"A bad habit," the man said, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. "You just about done there? You're making me feel all hot again just watching you."
Jason looked at the tree he was pruning, trying to remember what he was doing, "Just trimming really," he said, "I was harvesting our strawberries."
"And what fine luscious strawberries they are," Mr. Robinson said. "If you're done you're welcome to join me for a beer?"