The Raunchy Construction Worker

Rob happens upon a crude, catcalling construction worker, and that gives him an idea for his next rough trade target: the Italian macho Vic, who’s hairy and filthy and perfect for Rob. Can Rob handle Vic’s massive alpha male meat? Can he manage to embarrass the shameless stud?!

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“Hey, baby, I’ll lick ya pussy all night long, gurl! I won’t even make you suck me off at the same time, I lick ya pussy just for fun!” he squeezed his dick through the filthy jeans he wore, which had a giant rip that had been amateurly fixed with thread.
The girl scoffed and stormed away. She was pretty, clean, classy — like a lawyer, maybe, Rob thought. She was not the type to be seduced by a catcalling construction worker.
“I lick ya asshole then! That what you want? I lick wherever you want, baby, you just tell my tongue where to go!” He stuck his tongue out to demonstrate, and laughed with all his other worker buddies. When she was almost out of earshot, he bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Fucking prude!”
The construction worker was dark-haired and swarthy, Italian, probably, or pretending as much. He was muscular, thick-bodied and broad-shouldered like a highway overpass, hairy all over, drenched with sweat, wearing a wifebeater and an orange jacket, along with heavy black boots and a hardhat. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and every few seconds he switched it from one side of his mouth to the other.
Rob confidently walked into the construction site. The man was facing the other way down the street. He snorted at the sight of a fat girl walking past him. “I won’t hate on ya cuz you big, woman. That just means there is more of you to love. Fuckin’ you would be a long-term project! I wouldn’t kick ya outta bed, baby!” he called out.
“I was about to say the same thing to you,” Rob said. He flashed a limp wrist and a big smile.
The man turned to see him. He took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Whatchoo want, princess? This is a closed site. You lookin’ for a pansy?” He pointed to a tall, corpulently fat man, who sat on a piece of heavy machinery eating a sandwich. “That him? Russell. He’s our resident sissy, ain’t ya?!”
“Who you callin’ a sissy, man?”
The two screamed more insults and accusations back at each other. Rob couldn’t hear the other man’s words, but he did pick up that the man — the handsome, not fat one — in front of him was Vic. Vic frowned when he saw Rob still standing there.
“You ain’t allowed on the construction site, man. Whatchoo want?”
“You. I’ll give you five hundred dollars to ramrod me. Right here. Right now,” Rob said.
Vic chuckled a little. He looked down and up. His fellow workers were watching, and it looked to Rob like he really wished no one had seen him get propositioned. The other workers snickered.
“Do it, Vic!”
“Yeah, man. It’s like the opposite of prison! You outside instead of inside, you gettin’ paid fo’ it ‘stead of payin’ a fine, and you givin’ it ‘stead of takin’ it. Opposite of prison.”
Vic blushed, though it wasn’t obvious because his face was smudged with dirt, “Shut up, all you’s fuckers! Shut up ya mouths or I come over there and shut ‘em up!” He blushed an even brighter red. He grabbed his dick through his jeans and affected a cocky laugh. He looked at Rob again. “Seriously though, princess-“
“I’ll eat your ass! I’ll eat your ass with a spoon,” Rob said. One of the other workers burst into guffaws so powerful he fell to the ground. The rest of them howled, calling over men from elsewhere at the construction site. Some of the heavy machinery even stopped, which made the scene much quieter.
A sneer of disgust appeared on Vic’s face. He gagged. “Man, please! Have some self-respect, seriously?! You gonna eat my ass right now! I was gonna make that girl shower first, and she’s about a hundred times cleaner than me! Man, you are messed up if you think-“
“I want to gargle your cum! Please! I can deepthroat anything!” Rob said. He rammed his whole hand into his mouth to demonstrate.
“Nah, man! Nah, man! Nah, man!” Vic repeated it like he was broken. His eyes bugged out. He laughed too, and covered his belly with one hand. “Don’t make me see that, nah, don’t make me see that…”
“He swallowin’ his whole hand! He fistin’ his throat! You see that? Legendary!”
“Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! “
There were probably twenty men over there chanting for him to do it. Vic nodded and sighed. “Man… Six hundred bucks, okay? Man? I’ll do it for six hundred bucks.”
“Fine.”
“And you ain’t puttin’ nothing in my ass! No way!”
“Well… except my tongue.” Rob smirked.
That again prompted peals of laughter from the other workers. They clutched each other and bellowed. They were red-faced.
“You serious about that?” Vic cocked his head to the side. “You know I am sweaty as hell right now? I don’t even know… Man, do people do that?” He chuckled nervously.
“Is that a no?”
He looked shocked. “Oh, it’s a yes, man. For six hundred bucks, I will ran you and let you lick my ass. Hell, I’d let you lick my ass for free cuz no one ever did it before. I’s sayin’ it’s so gross it make me wanna throw up, but I ain’t gonna say no. You only gotta pay me for the cornholin’, you gotta pay for that.”
Rob dropped to his knees in front of Vic, who couldn’t stop laughing. He didn’t laugh animatedly, but he didn’t stop even as he mumbled down at Rob. “Yo, man, this… You are, like… Man, you’s crazy, alright? I’m just… Man, princess and shit, man, I can’t even…”
“Whip it out, Vic!”
“C’mon, you always braggin’ ‘bout it! Let’s see it!”
“Woo-hoo!” They catcalled at him, making porno-movie sounds and whistling like they were at a strip club.
“Take it off, Victor!”
Vic ignored Rob. He faced the other workers and pumped his biceps. He kissed each one. “Man, fuck all you’s guys! I ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed about!” He undid his fly and let a massive uncut cock flop out. “Bam! See? I got-“
He stopped boasting, and yelped because Rob came up behind him and kissed his bare shoulder. It tasted so salty it brought tears to Rob’s eyes, and there was a layer of gritty dirt atop it. Rob planted his mouth between Vic’s arm and his chest, trying to get to his fuzzy armpit.
“Yo, hey! What? Yo, what?! I can’t even, man, I can’t even… cope with that shit, what the fuck?!” Vic gasped. He slowly lifted one of his arms as though he had no idea it was possible to lick armpits, like he thought Rob might actually be going for his elbow or some other body part. He cackled when Rob dove in to his pits enthusiastically.
“You gettin’ horny, Vic?”
Vic’s face was bright red still, though he tried to cover up his insecurity by laughing and shouting insults at the other workers. His muscles were tense, and they didn’t relax the whole time.
“Yo, you fat-ass bitches are just jealous of my shit, man!” Vic scoffed. He smiled down at Rob. “Alright, princess, you really into pits? Or you just teasin’ me? Huh?”
“I love armpits,” Rob said. He smiled from Vic’s left armpit, whose sweat was smeared over Rob’s face. It was bitter and sharp, and the potent scent made Rob choke even as he swallowed all that he could. He sucked on each kinky black armpit hair, and he lapped at the flesh underneath. He did first the left, then the right armpit. Vic stood there and endured it, giggling like a boom-voiced, raspy-throated schoolboy.
Then Rob planted his lips on Vic’s chest. Vic stopped laughing now, looking down with a disgusted sneer. Rob moved his tongue up Vic’s hairy body, and as he did, he removed Vic’s torn white wifebeater without removing the orange safety vest. Vic looked perfect standing there, covering up his nervousness as his chest throbbed beneath the paper-thin orange vest.
“Yo, fairy, man, you know his chest is dirty as shit, right? He been rollin’ around in dirt! He got grease all ovuh him!”
“Hey fuck you, Russell!” Vic shouted with a deep belly laugh. Rob licked his greasy sweat soaked chest, muscles trembling as he shouted to be heard over the urban traffic not that far away. Vic lit another cigarette and shouted, “At least I ain’t had to have my boss tell me I gotta start showerin’ e’ry day!”
“That’s cuz he know it’s a lost cause wit’ you!”
“I’ll come ovuh there and show you a lost cause, man!” Vic shouted out, but the others laughed so loud they couldn’t hear him. They laughed because Rob started stroking Vic’s meat.
It was long and soft still. Vic didn’t even notice Rob’s hand on his cock because he was so focused on bellowing at the other workers. He dick was delightfully huge — Rob didn’t even hope it would be that big, no wonder he was full of pride, bravado and machismo. It throbbed hotly beneath Rob’s fingers, but it didn’t get hard.
It only perked up only when Vic suddenly jumped, realizing that Rob was on his cock now. He snorted and closed his eyes.
“Aw, man, god damn, ah fuck, man,” Vic said. He bit his lip. He shifted his weight between his feet. “Ah, damn, okay, sorry, man, I swear to God, man, I won’t catcall after no bitches no more, not ever again.” He took a deep drag on his cigarette. His cock twitched and began to firm up in Rob’s hand. Vic’s face was ultra-serious now. “Okay, no, not that. I won’t catcall after any bitches for a month, man, I swear to God. I learned my lesson.” He paused again and chuckled at himself. “I mean females. I won’t catcall after any females for a month.”
“Whatcha gonna spend that money on, Vic? You need a dress that show off ya armpits, that way you can pick up more johns.”
“Tell the dress salesgirl you an autumn, Vic.”
“I will come over there and kick your ass!” Vic shouted. He looked serious enough he might have actually done it — he took a few steps in that direction — but Rob’s hand on his cock kept him here.
Rob dropped to his knees. He kissed Vic on the cocktip. Vic howled and covered his face. Vic was so loud that Rob couldn’t hear the other men, who laughed and yelled jokes at Vic. Meanwhile Rob licked up and down his shaft.
It tasted dirty, of course, rather like his armpit but with a more musky and sweet flavor to it. The dirt here was more smooth, almost muddy — this wasn’t street dust that had collected on his bare skin, it was grime that had collected on his unwashed cock.
Rob could taste the entire day’s work in the filth that had collected on his dick. It was just sweat and a few bits of thread and debris from his pants, Rob knew that, but he felt like he could sense Vic’s entire day from the taste.
He could feel Vic waking up on a ratty mattress on the floor of a small apartment — his dick tasted a bit like one of those bachelor-pad mattresses, with sheets that got washed before girls came over and on no other occasions (he normally went to his girls’s places, so he wouldn’t have to clean up his own apartment). Vic’s sheets didn’t even fit his twin-sized mattress, they were queen-sized sheets.
His dick gradually got hard in Rob’s mouth. There was hesitance in his erection, as though every few seconds Vic realized he was in a man’s mouth and his cock reconsidered getting hard. Rob gurgled merrily on it regardless.
A man like Vic probably didn’t cook his own breakfast, Rob suspected. He might make himself a bowl of cereal, but probably not. He most likely went down to the street and got a egg-and-bacon sandwich from the Pakistani fellow at a nearby bodega. Vic definitely liked carbs — you could see that in the meaty thickness of his body and the plumpness of his asscheeks — he’d have been fat if he didn’t have a calorie-burning job — so he probably got an extra plain bun too, just to munch on while he walked to his jobsite.
Once his dick was hard, Vic crooned and moaned. He made sounds like he was seducing a girl, little kissy noises and sucking on his own teeth. Rob gurgled and made a mess over his face when he tasted precum. He wiped Vic’s fleshy shaft over his lips and nose, so a layer of salty precum coated his face.
“Man… Princess, that is nasty. That is nasty. That is nasty. Fo’ real, I can’t even deal wit’ that. You don’t get nothin’ outta that, man, nothin’. You got my precum all ovuh ya face. Whatcha-?”
“Can I lick your balls?”
He raised one eyebrow. “What? Yeah… I mean… I guess so.”
Rob had to pull his jeans down all the way. He had heavy low-hanging balls, which Rob adored. He could barely fit them both in his mouth, especially since Vic’s scrotum was so slick with sweat that Rob couldn’t get a good grip on them.
“Alright now, that is new, that is real new,” Vic said. He called out to the other workers. “Yo, Jammy-Jew! He doin’ it! He slurpin on mah balls! You’d like that shit! He ain’t gonna mace ya fo’ askin’!” The men laughed, teasing one of their own. Vic looked down at Rob. He ashed his cigarette, some of the ash particles landed on his crotch and adding a bitter charred flavor to his precum. “Jammy-Jew over there — don’t worry, he ain’t a Jew, his last name is Joo-En-Oi.” It sounded like he was trying to say something French. “That’s just what we calls him. Anyway, he that hairy one over there. He ask this girl to suck his balls once and she start yellin’ at him, ends up macing the motherfucker on ‘ccount of his balls is too nasty to even think about.” He threw his cigarette on the ground. “You serious ‘bout lickin’ asshole, princess?”
“Absolutely,” Rob said. His voice was moist and crackling from the ballsweat that coated his tongue.
Rob moaned with anticipation. He pulled off Vic’s balls and moved around to kneel behind him. He kissed each one of Vic’s hairy cheeks, which stank even worse than his balls. His flesh was cold and paler than the rest of his body, though it was still a light nut-brown. Plenty of thick black hairs extended up from his thighs.
“Okay, bend over and spread those cheeks-“
“Nah,” Vic said, and for the first time, there was no humor in his voice at all. He cleared his throat. “Don’t you nevuh tell me to bend over and spread ‘em again. I will kick yo’ ass for real. There ain’t enough money in the world to make me put myself in a bitch-position. Nah. Nah. No way, man. No way, princess. You might be royalty, but you ain’t my queen, no sir, no how, no way,” he said. He shook his head. “You can lick my asshole standing up.”
“Can you squat on my face?”
He looked like he might vomit. He sighed and shook his head, but he muttered yes. Rob got down on the ground and laid on his back.
Vic lowered his hairy ass onto Rob’s face. He squatted as though he was about to jump as high as he could, like a frog. Squatting like that spread his asscheeks, giving Rob easy access to his funky hole.
His tongue plunged in. Vic yelped and squirmed atop Rob’s face. He stuck his tongue straight up, and Vic’s movement meant Rob got to taste every inch of his insides.
Once again, Rob felt like he could sense everything about Vic through his body and the way his filth tasted on Rob’s tongue. Vic fancied himself a ladysman — that was why he catcalled after girls all the time — but he was a lot less successful than he let on. If he cleaned himself up and acted more charming, he’d have tremendous luck with the ladies, who would love his muscles, dimples and square jaw. But he didn’t have the personality for that, and he didn’t care enough to change, he was fine with fucking trashy, slutty girls. Vic would rather be the sexy stud whom all the fat girls want rather than the cute guy who has to work to charm pretty girls. At any given moment, Vic had a half-dozen or so girls he was seeing. He got a handjob at least, if not a blowjob, every night — if none of his females were available, he’d go to one of the whores in the alley behind his apartment. They only charged five bucks for a handjob, and they did it sweet as candy.
His asshole sweated and twinkled around Rob’s tongue. His nose nestled in the hair of Vic’s asscrack, which shook as he yelled back and forth at the other workers. Rob couldn’t hear their words because Vic’s hefty body muffled the sound. Sweat trickled in to Rob’s mouth, flowing constantly from the small of Vic’s back.
Eventually Rob pulled off. He was about to blow his own load, and he wanted to do it with Vic’s cock in his ass. Vic loved booty, so he was excited, especially when he saw that Rob kept his ass shaved.
“Nice and smooth, alright,” Vic said softly so no one but Rob could hear. “Nothin’ personal, man, sorry ‘bout this-” He called out to the other workers- “Man, it’s gross, man, it’s nasty as shit. He got hairy, sloppy butt-“
“You must be used to it, Vic! I seen the girls you date!”
“Yeah, you into lady-sasquatches, Victor! You got no room to complain.”
“Man, I fuck chicks you can’t even dream ‘bout, old man!” Vic called out. Then he spoke to Rob. “Alright, weirdo, I am into ass. This is the part I been lookin’ forward to.” The plump girls who lusted after Vic usually gave up the ass with just a little persuasion, so he had plenty of anal sex.
“Did you enjoy your first rimjob?” Rob asked, licking his lips.
Vic scrunched up his face. His cock throbbed right at the entrance to Rob’s ass. “Well, it felt good, yeah. But I ain’t enjoy it, no.”
Pain exploded in Rob’s body as Vic pushed his cock in. He made more kissy sounds and wrapped one arm around Rob’s neck, putting him in a loose chokehold. He stayed so close Rob could feel the buzzing of his chest hair against Rob’s back.
“You got a nice tight ass, princess,” he said. He gulped and threw his head back. “Nothin’ personal, I’m gonna tell all them you was loose as shit. I gots a rep to protect.”
“Uh-huh.” The pressure in Rob’s ass disappeared, replaced by a torrent of pleasure. Vic’s cock teased his prostate. Vic shoved it in harshly when he realized Rob wasn’t going to complain or fight back, and his meat sent waves of pleasure up Rob’s spine.
“Yo, he loose like a goose, man, I’m gonna have to work hard for my money!”
Vic shuddered, making his cock shift within Rob’s ass. Vic was used to girls having trouble taking his entire manhood, but he was relentless — that was why he made those soft kissy sounds the whole time; he was used to having to continually seduce girls, to remind them that he was sexier than they could normally get, that they had better not disappoint him or he’d stop fucking them. So he had that instinctual need to seduce Rob even as he plowed his ass hard and mercilessly.
“Damn, boy, damn,” Vic said, speaking softly into Rob’s ear. “I ain’t gonna nevuh admit this to no one but you, but you got a nice ass. You take dick like none other, man, I can’t even, uh-huh.” Vic cleared his throat and yelled at his friends. “I’m gonna nut, boys! Who wants to come clean this asshole up?! Huh? You guys hungry? You wanna eat my nut outta his ass? We got spoons in the truck, man!”
Then he closed his eyes and bit his lip. He moaned. He held Rob close against his chest. Rob jacked himself off — since he faced the other workers, they all groaned and turned away — and sprayed his wad all over the construction site ground.
Vic didn’t seem to notice that. He groaned and grunted into Rob’s ear. Then he exhaled slowly, blowing right on Rob’s cheek. Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, a great big wad of it that was followed by jet after jet of hot juices.
It was creamy and sticky, and it seeped into Rob’s body. He could feel it trickling to every part of him. It leaked out of his ass, into the tangled hair of Vic’s thighs. Vic kept on ramming, drilling his dick in even as he shot his load.
When his cock finally fell limp, Vic pulled out and let out a hoarse croak. His manhood flopped out. Vic looked down at it as though it had betrayed him.
Vic sighed. He rolled his eyes. “Alright, pay up.”
But Rob ignored him. He turned around and removed some napkins from his pants pocket. He gingerly cleaned off Vic’s dick. Vic scoffed but allowed him to do so. Then Rob licked the sweat off his nipples.
“‘Kay, princess, you got ya taste. You got what you paid for.”
“Make a bicep, please! I wanna lick your bicep!” Rob said, loud enough for the other workers to notice the ramrodding was done. They resumed catcalling.
“Make out wit’ him, Vic! Give him his money’s worth!”
“You get him pregnant, Vic? You best pay for the abortion!”
Vic shook his head and scowled. He pumped his right arm. Rob licked the muddy sweat off his curvy arm, which flexed beneath his tongue. Vic laughed like he was ticklish, and Rob slurped up and down his powerful arms.
“C’mon, princess, or uh… Mister whoever. I did my part,” he said. He was plaintive now, like it had only just now occurred to him that Rob might not pay.
But Rob did pay. He handed over six hundred dollars in cash. Vic breathed a sigh of relief, took the cash and pulled his jeans up. He put his filthy t-shirt back on.
“Alright, princess you better go. You ain’t really allowed in here,” Vic said. “And our boss is gonna be here soon.”
Rob nodded. “Thanks, Vic.” He backed away towards the street, slowly, and as he did he yelled at the top of his lungs. The workers — and a few people on the street — listened and laughed, while Vic turned bright red once more. “Thanks for cornholin’ me for money, Victor! You have a nice cock! You should stick it in a girl who ain’t a fat trashy slut sometimes! Thanks for lettin’ me eat your asshole too! Your balls taste like cheese, Vic, and I loved ‘em!”
By that point, a crowd had gathered, laughing and pointing at Vic’s bright red face, too loud for Rob’s catcalling to be heard anymore. Vic chortled and shook, like he was about to either laugh or cry — or both — so hard he shattered. He glared at Rob, who just smiled, gave a little limp-wristed wave and darted off down the street.

The Roughneck Bottoms

Lance is on a remote oil rig interviewing roughnecks, when he finds himself cornered in a closet with one. But this grizzled alpha male wants something Lance never expected…

That means Lance is in for an exciting adventure in Twink on Top!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

The roughnecks on the oil rig were intimidating. Lance didn’t want to admit that because it made him feel like a pitiful weakling who was scared of any blue-collar guy with dirt under his nails.
But once he got started taking statements, he fell into the old routine. He was here to be on the roughneck-workers’ side anyway. He had come to the oil rig, staying overnight to get statements from each worker. He had to do it now because everyone who witnessed the incident was likely to scatter when they came to shore. A lot of them were probably illegal immigrants, had open warrants or just plain didn’t trust lawyers. Lance didn’t blame them.
The workers all blended in with each other in Lance’s eyes. They were one hairy pot-bellied drunkard after another.
Right up until Cooter. Lance was in such a rut he didn’t notice right away. There was nothing so blatantly different about Cooter that Lance stopped his lawyerly deposing to take notice. It was only as he finished up that Lance noticed Cooter’s small belly — not a six-pack by any means, but just a bit of meaty pudge beneath his massive chest, broad shoulders and grizzled chin. He smelled bad in a good way, like clean sweat and engine oil and stainless steel. He brimmed with swagger and square-jawed machismo.
As Lance got answers out of him — Cooter wasn’t privy to any of the important details of the accident Lance was investigating, so the deposition was quick — he could feel Cooter checking him out.
It was all over, and that was it. Cooter returned to his job monitoring the delta branches (whatever that was, Lance didn’t know), while Lance finished up the last few depositions. None of the workers here really knew much, or if they did, they weren’t revealing it. That wasn’t surprising, but Lance needed to do his due diligence. There was always a chance they had witnessed something relevant.
Later, Lance gathered up all his papers and headed up top (“above deck”? Lance didn’t know the proper terminology on an oil rig) to meet the boat that would take him back to shore. But what had seemed like a simple hallway when he was led to the meeting room had metamorphosed into a confusing array of twisting passages.
Soon enough Lance was lost. He saw a gaggle of African workers, but they didn’t seem to speak English and they looked at him with unabashed hostility in their eyes, so he didn’t ask them for help. He just continued wandering.
He stopped only when he saw Cooter standing there in the corridor as though waiting for him. This part of the rig was a stainless steel tube that was barely six and a half-feet tall, so Cooter had to stoop — he was a few inches taller than that. His broad shoulders barely fit between the walls as well, but he stood there like it was the most natural place in the world for him to be.
“You that lawyer, right?” Cooter’s voice was thick and rumbly, and it echoed between the narrow walls of the corridor. Its gravelly tenor made Lance shiver with sexual desire.
“Uh, yeah…”
“Thought so,” Cooter said. He sighed. “There ain’t no girls here.”
“Uh-huh,” Lance said.
Cooter was alluring in a rough, dirty and dangerous kind of way, neck tattoos and all. He was never going to bed a delicate young socialite with a taste for refined men, but he surely got laid when in town, unless he thought himself too good for sluts. That thought made Lance chuckle to himself — Cooter was a lot of things, but he was ruddy, dirty and greasy-haired, and he doubtlessly did not think himself too good to fuck a loose woman.
“You… uh… You get down, sissy?” he asked with a sneer, like he hoped the answer was no even if he wanted it to be yes.
“Uh… yeah,” Lance said, so nervous his throat was parched.
He led Lance into a storage closet filled with what looked to Lance like lawnmower engines — he assumed that wasn’t what they were, but that was the closest analogue he could think of. In there their difference in size was even more noticeable. Lance felt like a child standing next to a giant. Lance was barely more than five feet tall, so his head only came up to below Cooter’s nipple line. If they stood in profile, three or four Lances could line up and occupy as much as width as Cooter’s broad body.
In the tiny closet, they barely fit. If the door had opened inward, it would have been impossible to shut it with them both inside. Lance shuddered with anticipation when he brushed into Cooter’s chest and belly, rubbing past his flesh. Cooter inhaled deeply.
Once the door was shut, the closet was dark. It wasn’t pitch-black, because there was an emergency overhead light that remained on. But that was very dim — it was a fluorescent bulb on the verge of running out. It flickered and cast a shadowy pall over the room. In the darkness, Cooter was a looming silhouette that smelled of lubricant, sweat and grease. Lance’s dick was already hard as steel in his pants.
“You really want-?”
“Stop talking,” Cooter said. He inhaled deeply of the air in the room. Lance shook his ass in an instinctual bid to seduce Cooter, though he knew that was pointless — it was too dark for Cooter to see. He seemed focused on the smell anyway, and he groaned as he inhaled Lance’s cologne (which was a very feminine smell, flowery and lemony; it was a brand aimed at sophisticated and upper-class men). “You smell good enough to eat, girl. I’m gonna pretend you’s a girl, ‘kay?”
“Uh… okay. You want me to jerk you off?” Lance asked. He accentuated his flamboyance as much as possible, and kept his voice quiet and high-pitched, as girlish as he could manage. He gently reached forward — and up — to stroke Cooter’s dick through his scuffed jeans. As soon as he touched that already-hard rod, Cooter jerked and straightened his back. He gulped as though the touch was both painful and arousing.
“Sssh,” Cooter said. He stripped off his ripped t-shirt then, and he threw it on a shelf over those “lawnmower engines”. Lance planted his face right in Cooter’s beefy belly, licking the sweat-dappled flesh and coarse hairs there. It tasted like he hadn’t showered in a few days, not a real shower — they often had limited water, and no hot water, so many of the roughnecks just used a sponge without soap. Lance had a feeling that was Cooter’s most recent bathing experience, and the thought of tasting weeks worth of sweat and grime made him so horny he nearly busted in his pants.
Much to his surprise, Cooter then reached down to pull Lance’s own jacket off. Then he very nearly ripped the tie off his neck and pulled his shirt up, not bothering to unbutton it. It was physically awkward — Lance was pinned between Cooter’s hefty frame and the shelves behind him. He stretched and strained to let Cooter take his clothes off.
But Cooter didn’t stop there. He got on his knees next to Lance, unbuttoned his slacks and pulled his pants and underwear down. Lance had no idea where this was progressing.
“You make sounds like a girl,” Cooter said with a growl. Lance wasn’t making much in the way of sounds, but he was mewling and breathing heavy, with a decidedly feminine tilt to his voice. Cooter inhaled again and kissed Lance on the left asscheek.
“Oh, my…” Lance blushed, not that Cooter could see it.
Then Cooter leaned in and kissed the small of Lance’s back. “Yer skin is so smooth, girl…” He inhaled once again, this time right above Lance’s asscrack. “You smell good,” he said, his voice rollingly breathless. “You smell just like girlfarts. I like that.” Then he spread Lance’s asscheeks and licked in one solid line from the top of his ass all the way down. His tongue glided right over Lance’s asshole, sending a shiver of pleasure up Lance’s spine.
This seemed strange, but Lance’s mind forced it into the only scenario he understood — Cooter was going to lick his ass in preparation to ram him in it.
Then, without a word of warning, Cooter plunged that tongue right into Lance’s tight asshole. Lance yelped and gripped the shelf in front of him. Cooter struggled to lower his head enough to reach Lance’s ass, so Lance stood on his toes and arched his back as much as he could to elevate his hips.
Intense and mind-melting pleasure washed over Lance, whose body undulated as the sensation flowed through him. Cooter’s face was scratchy with unkempt grizzle, rubbing against the interior of Lance’s asscrack. Meanwhile his tongue — which was somehow rough and scratchy like his beard, like a cat’s tongue — plunged into Lance’s body. Cooter growled as he lapped at the interior of Lance’s ass.
Then he moaned as though the taste of Lance’s ass was enough to make him cum. “Hmmm… Yummy in mah tummy…. I’mma eat you alive, honky…” He said it again, his voice serious and grim, like he was diagnosing a medical problem.
That was just silly enough that Lance still couldn’t think of a response. He didn’t want to offend Cooter by laughing, or do anything to change how this was progressing. Cooter was presumably about to plow him in the ass, so Lance needed to let that develop.
Cooter pulled off his asshole, kissing his bare, smooth cheeks again, and he let loose another throaty growl. Lance felt a surge of disappointment — he could have let that scruffy face explore his ass for hours, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Cooter just wanted to prepare his ass for the plowing that he was preparing. Lance breathed deeply and relaxed his hole the best he could. It felt like Cooter’s cock was huge when Lance felt it through his pants. Lance didn’t often take huge dicks, so that might prove to be a challenge (a challenge Lance was going to enjoy living up to).
His callused fingers roamed up and down Lance’s thighs. Cooter’s hands didn’t stop there. He stood, and those callused fingers explored up Lance’s ass and his smooth back, then darted around to his chest as though Cooter expected to find breasts there. He didn’t seem to be disappointed though when all he found, of course, was the lithe and flat chest of Lance’s body. He had never felt as skinny as he did right now — Cooter’s forearms were almost as thick as the thickest part of Lance’s body.
Cooter licked all the way up Lance’s smooth back, to his neck, where he nuzzled romantically. His arms wrapped around Lance’s chest, making Lance gulp as he wondered if he would be able to take every inch of the massive slab of meat that pulsated behind his back. He was ensconced in Cooter’s overwhelming muscles, inhaling deeply of the man’s unkempt armpits. For a moment, it seemed Cooter was going to shove Lance’s face in those hairy armpits — that wasn’t something Lance had ever been into, but in the spirit of going with the flow, he wasn’t going to turn it down.
That wasn’t what happened. Once again, Cooter surprised him, in two ways. First he kissed Lance on the lips, coming from behind so Lance had to turn his head to face him. Second, Cooter’s hands crept around Lance’s body to his dick, which he stroked with his awkward, unpracticed grip.
He assumed Cooter wouldn’t want to use tongue, but that was incorrect. Cooter’s massive meat pushed into Lance’s mouth and interlocked with his own tongue. Cooter’s seductive grumbling resonated in Lance’s mouth as they sucked each other’s tongues in the dark. The only other sound was the omnipresent whirr and birr of the machinery of Rig Delta 69.
“You taste nice,” Cooter said when he was done. “You use girl’s shampoo.” He sniffed Lance’s hair as those big meaty paws rubbed down Lance’s body. He again gripped Lance’s dick and stroked it — his touch was not crude and rough, more like a coach patting a player on the ass than a lover seducing his partner. Cooter’s awkwardness, the cramped closet and the scent of his unbridled musk made the whole experience sexy even if the handjob was rather clumsy and inept.
“I, uh… I don’t actually, I use a shampoo made with hibiscus and, uh… lavender. It’s for men, it’s Prince of Tahiti, that’s the brand. They have it at All-Mart, it’s not expensive,” Lance said, aware that he was rambling but unable to stop himself. It wasn’t a tony brand, that was the point.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Yes. I mean… Yes. Whatever you want. Whatever. It’s okay. Yes. Sure. I mean… just tell me wha- I’ll, uh… Yes. Probably. I mean… whatever, yes,” Lance said. He blushed, glad that Cooter couldn’t see it. Cooter thrust his fat cock at the meat of Lance’s ass.
“Sssh, just say yes.”
“Yes.”
“Pretend your dick is a dildo.”
“What?”
He spoke through gritted teeth, his soft tone suddenly menacing. “Pretend your dick is a dildo. A strap-on. And stick it in my ass. I wanna feel it inside me.” He let go of Lance then, and he gripped the shelf next to him. He jutted his ass out so its hairy thick globes were right in the center of the closet, pressing against Lance’s bare back.
Lance’s mind reeled. He couldn’t quite comprehend this. A part of his mind figured it out — Cooter was into pegging. He enjoyed having women sodomize him with a strap-on dildo. In the absence of women, he was willing to let Lance’s dick be that dildo. But Lance still thought for sure he had misheard that, even as he turned to face Cooter’s backside.
“You gotta bend over,” Lance said breathlessly, in a hurry to get started lest they get interrupted or Cooter change his mind or something. Cooter was standing straight up, so his ass lined up with Lance’s bellybutton, nowhere’s near close enough to plow him.
Cooter bent his knees and gripped the next lower shelf. When that still wasn’t enough, he went for the next shelf, and then the even lower one. That left him stooped over awkwardly, big hairy ass aimed high in the air.
It was still not quite enough for Lance, but there was a box of something heavy on the floor. Lance used his foot to push it into position so that he could use it as a stool. That enabled him to get his dick high enough to enter Cooter’s ass.
“Bend your knees-“
“You get taller!” Cooter barked.
“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Lance said. “Come on, I’m on my toes on a stool here.” Though he grumbled, Cooter did bend his knees some. That let Lance lean forward enough to aim his dick for the center of Cooter’s hair-tangled asscrack.
When the tip of his dick actually entered Cooter, pushing through that dense swamp of sweat-choked hair, Cooter twitched and grunted. “Whuuuuuuhhhhhhhckkkk… You don’t play, did ya get that big’un at law school?” He let out a pained chuckle that morphed into a rig-shaking roar that reverberated in the tiny closet. Lance thought he had done something wrong, but Cooter’s labored breathing had a jagged, panty vibe to it that suggested he was in love.
Lance pushed his dick in more. There was ample resistance from Cooter’s tight ass, but not as much as Lance might have thought. He was tight but accepting, even though the only lube Lance had was his own spit. Cavernous groans escaped from Cooter, but they were groans of pleasure, and his back muscles arched and flexed with every thrust of Lance’s body.
“Hmmm, you feel so good…” Lance gripped the firm meat of Cooter’s body. In the light he had seen the numerous scars and tattoos of varying professionalism that belied his lifetime of hard work — and likely prison sentences — in the kind of trashy locales where you get both scars and cheap tattoos. But in the dark of the closet, Lance couldn’t see any of that, he could only feel the firmness of Cooter’s muscles and the powerful, burning passion within his barrel-shaped torso.
“Huuuhhhnnnk…” Cooter may have been trying to say something, but whatever it was, Lance couldn’t get it. Cooter gasped and clawed at the wall of the oil rig closet.
Cooter jacked himself off as Lance rammed back and forth, which was good because there was no way Lance could have reached all the way around Cooter’s massive frame to give him a reacharound. He enjoyed trying though, wrapping his arms over those strapping muscles. He could barely reach the man’s nipples, which he flicked and tweaked as he pushed his dick deep in Cooter’s burly ass.
The door to the closet opened suddenly. The sound of macho rednecks grumbling — complaining of something — filled the air for only a moment. Cooter was lightning fast: he winced before reaching behind himself to hold on to the doorknob. He re-shut the door before it could open..
“Get the fuck outta here,” Cooter said. He was trying to sound authoritarian, but his voice was weak and pinched, wavering, like it might shatter at any moment. Lance gasped too, holding himself still the best he could despite a powerful urge to thrust and ram and force his burgeoning manhood in and out of Cooter’s ass. His dick throbbed and spewed precum inside Cooter’s hairy ass.
“Who’s in there? Cooter?”
“Yeah, man, get away,” Cooter said.
“Whatchoo doin’ in there, man?”
“I’m lettin’ that lawyer jerk me off.” Cooter’s voice was clipped and pained, but he added a gruff confidence that made it work.
There was a long silence from outside the closet, then loud braying laughter filled the air. They pulled hard on the door and hooted. Cooter kept a tight grip on the doorknob so they couldn’t open it.
“You kiddin’, man?”
“I ain’t nevuh think you was serious about that.”
“Shut your dimwitted asses up!” Cooter screamed. He pounded on the door, which made them laugh all over again. “Get away, fuckheads!” The motion almost triggered an orgasm in Lance, because it made Cooter’s asshole squeeze around his cockshaft all over again, and Cooter’s whole body rippled. He grunted.
Their laughing slowly died down, and it sounded like they walked a few feet away, then stopped. They whispered among themselves.
Finally one of them meekly whispered, “We need a pump motor, Cooter. You ramroddin’ them too?”
He sighed. “Fine,” Cooter said. “Hang on.” He used his one free hand to grab a motor. Then he pulled the door open just wide enough to push the motor through. His friends tried to push it open, jubilantly laughing as they hoped to catch him in flagrante delicto, but Cooter kept a tight grip to hold the door from opening any farther. He awkwardly, painfully twisted his back with Lance’s dick still in his ass, and dragged the heavy motor with one hand to the door. They grabbed it and walked away, cackling with laughter.
When they were gone, he slammed the door shut again. He breathed a sigh of relief and held on to the doorframe for support. His knees quaked from the pressure in his ass.
But as Cooter reacted and calmed himself down after being very nearly caught, he lifted himself up. He straightened his back again. Lance had such a tight grip on Cooter’s thick back muscles that he held on even as Cooter lifted up.
The end result was that Lance clung desperately to Cooter’s body. His toes curled around Cooter’s trunk-like thighs, clinging to him there while his hands desperately gripped the flesh of Cooter’s body. Holding on like a child getting a piggyback ride, Lance slammed his hips the best he could.
Cooter grunted and roared. He yelped. He squealed in both pain and pleasure, and the array of snorts and groans coming from his mouth filled the air in the cramped closet. Lance couldn’t hold on much longer, but he tried to keep ramming his climactic cock for as long as he could.
He knew it was over when Cooter shot his own load. He rumbled as he moaned, filling his hand with cum. Lance’s ears pricked up just before his own orgasm began — were there more people outside the closet? Maybe those guys had gotten others and they were going to surprise Cooter by bursting in.
But it was happening too fast for Lance to slow himself down or say anything. He sprayed his wad deep within Cooter as intense pleasure rocketed up his spine. Lance tried to keep himself quiet so he didn’t accidentally make a masculine sound that would shatter Cooter’s illusion that he was being pegged by a girl. He just nibbled on the meat of Cooter’s hairy shoulder as he filled Cooter’s ass with his seed.
The pleasure was unlike anything Lance had ever experienced. He filled Cooter with this sticky seed and lolled his tongue over the rippling muscles of Cooter’s body. He threw his head back and moaned as waves of ecstasy wracked Lance’s body.
At last he was done. He pulled out and let himself slowly dangle off Cooter’s back until he slid down and onto his feet. His knees were weak from the power of his orgasm.
“You eat cum?” Cooter whispered — the first real whisper since they had come in here.
Lance nodded. Before he could say anything else, Cooter smeared cum all over his face — it was Cooter’s load from his own dick. It tasted thick and creamy, sweet and sour and savory all at once. Lance wanted to lick it all up, but Cooter told him not.
“Leave it there on yer face, sissy.”
They both quickly dressed. Lance wondered what he was supposed to do with a face full of cum. His question was answered moments later by Cooter flinging the door open.
There stood a dozen or so leering men. They were shushing each other as the door swung open. They clapped and hollered, making Cooter blushed. He tried to mean-mug them, but his face was bright red, making it clear he was more humiliated than angry.
“You like that, Cooter? Your next night off is gonna be a doozy!”
Lance blushed too as he realized what was happening — Cooter had known his friends were outside the closet, waiting to embarrass him. He had covered Lance’s face in cum so it would look like Lance had jerked Cooter off, just as Cooter had said was happening. It looked like everyone believed it.
Wiping his face off with the sleeve of his shirt, Lance looked away as Cooter sneered at him. He said something, but Lance couldn’t hear it over the sound of the other roughnecks. Cooter stalked away, ignoring them as well as Lance, who watched his swaying ass in his filthy workpants as he led his friends down the corridor. Cooter still had to walk awkwardly because he was so tall, which was good because Lance was sure he couldn’t walk straight right now anyway. His ass must ache something fierce, Lance thought.
Lance was about to walk the other direction, though he still had no idea how to get back to his boat. But there was one roughneck still there, standing in front of him. This one was tall and lanky, ropy-muscled, with a mustache on his upper lip. He looked like he probably dressed in leather pants and a cowboy hat when he wasn’t on the oil rig.
“Howdy,” he said. He looked up and down the hall to make sure no one was coming. “You smell like a girl.” He nodded into the closet. “You got another one in ya?”
“You want some dome? Sure…” Lance said.
“Not exactly that, no,” said the man. He blushed as he led Lance back into the closet. “But somethin’ along those lines.”