Scaffolders in lock-down

So I woke up to a terrible grating noise. A sort of drilling and rattling all the same time. It was amazingly loud and the walls of the house were trembling a bit. I had a hangover from the night before, too much weed and a good deal to drink, so my head was so not in the mood.

Fuck, I thought - never again…. What time was it anyway?

I looked at the clock - it was 8 am. Way too early in this locked-down madness. And then the rattling noise started even louder.

I crawled to the window and pulled the curtains back.

‘Jeez…’ I exclaimed.

Directly in front of my window was the bottom part of a guy’s legs. Big steel-toed boots, and over-all, worker’s trousers. He was standing on a platform made of big wooden planks right at the height of the middle of my sash window. He couldn’t see directly in, I guess, and I could only see the bottom half of the man, and that was just as well as I was stark naked.

There was a van with scaffolding poles on it out in front of the house. There seemed to be two men involved in erecting the framework, and I blearily remembered that the landlord had said something about the pointing on the front of the building needing some work.

The drilling continued. The noise was so loud that I couldn’t imagine it was going to be easy to work in the room I shared with my new flat-mate. He was out, and not back for a couple of days, if I guessed right. He’d scored with a Brazilian lad a few days ago and they were shagging like bunnies and so I was often on my own, with only my own dick to keep me company.

I pulled back the curtain and pulled on a pair of old track shorts and a vest. It was a bit smelly, but there’d been a problem with the washing machine… lock-down…. no repairmen….

I sat down to do some work. Plenty of e-mails still, even if there was no work. I was typing away and trying to shut out the noise, when I noticed it was beginning to rain. The sky had gotten darker, so I opened the curtains to let in some daylight.

The man had disappeared from the window, and I could hear the guys shouting at each other. I took a look out, down to the pavement: the two were arguing over a scrap of damp paper which seemed to have a kind of drawing of the structure they were in the middle of building on it. There seemed to be some disagreement about the work they had done. The van which they had been unloading the poles from had disappeared, so they were evidently alone with this design dilemma.

With an angry gesture, one of the guys climbed up a ladder to my window again, fast. He wasn’t happy. He was cursing and quickly un-doing some bolts and clamps which involved more rattling. He was a very handsome guy: must have been about 30, scruffy black curly hair, stubble, and a broken front tooth which made him look very wild. I bet it looked great when he smiled, but he was definitely not smiling now.

The rain started to pelt down. I could hear him grunting and cursing out loud as his grip on the bolts and clamps became difficult to maintain in the wet.

He caught a glimpse of me through the window, and he greeted me with a terse wave of sorts, and then got on with his work.

A few moments later he shouted down to his mate:

‘Too fucking wet up here - gonna come down and take a break - I need a piss too - no idea where to go… It’s so bloody wet…’

He quickly slipped down the ladder and the two men disappeared from sight under what was left of the scaffolding.

Something about this guy had certainly gotten the attention of my soul mate in the flat, my own uncut dick. It was definitely stirring and showing a mound in my shorts. I slipped them off and pulled on a yellow jockstrap I’d been wearing the night before, then pulled the shorts back on: now it all looked a little more respectable.

I went down stairs and went to the door - The rain was by now slashing down like stair-rods. I looked around, and the two men were sitting on plastic crates under the scaffolding, which was not affording them much by the way of cover. They were wet through.

‘Hey, guys! You getting soaked.’

‘Yeah’ said the dark-haired one.

‘Our boss sent us the wrong drawings, so we are stuck here until he comes back - he’s off in West London now’ said his mate, a burly Scot by the sound of his accent. He seems a bit pissed off.

‘Do you guys want to come in and stay dry?’ I asked.

The Scot answered:

‘I gotta stay out and wait for the boss.’

‘Can I offer you guys some tea at least? I asked them.

‘Christ, yeah, that’s be great. It’s not warm out here’ said the Scot, brightening up considerably.

‘Can I ask a favour?’ said the dark haired one. ‘Can I use your toilet? I’m sorry…’

‘No worries. Come on in and I’ll get the tea made and you can take it out if you’d rather drink it outside’ I said immediately.

The dark haired man came in. He looked down at my carpet, and his, by now, very wet boots, and asked:

‘Take ‘em off?’

’Sure’ I said. I watched him sit down on the step and unlace his boots. The feet they revealed were long and a toe popped out of a hole in the end of one sock. I took in his frame, a handsome and lanky one, long arms and hands, a bit the worse for wear from the work with the scaffolding. He didn’t have what I thought of as a typical scaffolder’s body: they tended to be more tightly muscular and even built. This man was different.

‘Bathroom is through there’ I told him.

He was quick up and into the bathroom, and I soon heard one of my favourite noises: the sound of a guy’s full, heavy stream of piss hitting the inside of the toilet. I could tell by now from the tone of the noise as to how thick the stream was, and thus pretty much how big the dick was that was doing the pissing. This one sounded big.

I was a bit mesmerised, standing by the door listening, and almost didn’t hear him stop. So when he opened the door I was right there.

‘Aww, sorry’ he said as he came out, a bit surprised to see me still there and so close to the door. He seemed a bit ill-at-ease, shy even.

’No worries’. I said and went off a bit sheepishly to make the tea. He followed me to the kitchen, and I noticed he was adjusting his dick inside his work trousers as he came in.

He stood by the sink as I made the tea, and made a bit of easy conversation. It seems that this was one of his first jobs as scaffolder. He’d been made redundant from his previous job in a warehouse, as it had gone bust. He didn’t much like the work but he had little alternative. But he really wanted to be a carpenter. I looked at those beautiful long hands and imagine him working wood. It seemed much more what he was made for.

All the time we chatted, I became more aroused by this, by now, talkative, slightly melancholy man. My own jock was tight over a pretty much erect dick. I hadn’t jacked off that morning following the noise and my early wake-up. So I was becoming horny. Very horny.

‘This place is great’ my friend said all of a sudden. ‘You live here on your own?’

‘I share with an old mate - he’s away for a few days.’

‘I share with three others, strangers’ he said. ‘It sucks…not much privacy.’

‘I’m lucky’ I said. ‘My mate is away so much and anyway we know each other too well. No secrets!’

My friend gave me a slightly strange, long look.

‘My problem is I can’t bring anyone back to my place, as it’s too small and I share the room with one of the others’ he said. There was a strange, even longing look in his eyes. They were sad and quite dark and beautiful. He seemed to be connecting, somehow.

‘And in this weird time, I think we all need to be able to do that’ I said. ‘I was in a relationship until just before all this kicked off, but it broke down. Pressure of work and life, even panic, I guess. There’s a few of my friends who have been in this way…’

‘Yeah, I can imagine…’ he said. ‘I bet your partner feels bad now, does he?’

I stopped.

I was taken aback: Was it so obvious that my partner would be a man ? Or did this guy just have a very good second sense?

‘Errrr… Yeah, well, I guess it wasn’t meant to….’ I stopped. For a good reason:

The guy was still holding my gaze with those eyes, but he had opened the fly of his work trousers and was pulling on his dick.

‘I could sort of tell’ he smiled: ’Something about your vibe and that you’re kinda gentle…’

He pulled out the full length of the shaft of his penis. It was long, veiny, the dark bush cradling its base. He reached deep into his fly. Evidently, he was naked under those heavy work trousers.

Watching my eyes, he slowly pulled out his balls. They were beautiful, dark, hair-covered globes. He reached out to my shorts and traced the outline of my hard dick with his hand, whilst with the other he pulled me towards him.

I approached him and he met my mouth with his lips: he kissed me long and hard - forcing his tongue between my teeth. Kissing like this, and I hadn’t had something like it for a long time, always drove me wild and made me even more ravenously horny. He was rubbing the length of my hard-on through the fabric. I was shaking…

He slowly pushed me down on my knees - he knew what he wanted.

’Suck me, please, man’ he whispered.

I didn’t need to be asked. I swallowed the long shaft into my mouth in one long decisive move, and he groaned very loudly. I am sure his mate must have heard him through the door. The helmet of his dick hit the back of my throat, and I held it there, fast.

‘I want this so much’ he said, between heavy breaths and it as obvious he was finding it hard to control his spasms. God knows how long it had been since this man unloaded his spunk…

Slowly, I pulled him out of my mouth, my lips tight on his shaft. Then I opened my mouth and let his knob sit on my tongue, slightly tickling it with the tip. But he was in need. He grabbed my head and pulled me down again onto him. I closed my mouth around him and slowed him down, tightening the orifice he was now vigorously fucking. He was suddenly on fire, and the gentleness I had so far seen in him turned into animal force. He was fucking my skull and he was expert at it. After a bit he slowed down and pulled out, shaking…

‘I don’t wanna cum yet,’ he said. ‘I want some of yours’. He pulled at my shorts and soon had them round my feet. The jock strap was not up to containing my erection any longer.

‘Fuck, you’re a big guy…’ he growled. I think he was deceived by lust as he was definitely bigger than me, but my own hard-on was in prime state that morning…

And so in seconds I was in his mouth, deep and far down this beautiful guy’s throat. I took handfuls of his wet curly hair and pulled him down on my dick. He was sucking vigorously and hard, but I wanted him slow, so I took control of his rhythm and he started to give me the easy, relaxed pleasure I want from a guy at work on my penis.

He slipped his hand into my mouth. Those long fingers played with my tongue and he pulled them out wet with my spit. Immediately, I felt him touch the rim of my ass with the wetness. I reached down and took his hand and guided his fingers deeper. I was inviting him to enter further into my hole, and I moved my legs apart to help him gain access.

‘Fuck me if you want to, mate…’ I said.

His fingers stayed there for a while then suddenly he sprang up. His dick bounced out in front of him and a strand of glistening premium swung from its tip. He quickly pulled off his work trousers and I pulled down the jockstrap so my arse was available to him. He kicked my feet even further apart, and I fell against the sink and leant over it.

I heard him spit a few times. He was dolloping his saliva in my crack and easing it into me with those long fingers. And then he was inside me. His penis. It was very fast. He was amazingly hard and there was no resistance from my cunt. It took one hard move, and he went fully into me. It hurt, yeah, he was not a small lad, but the pain was erotic, charged and wired… it was as if I was high and stoned, but better.

After his first thrust, he stayed deep inside for a long time, still, his breath hot on my ear, and his tongue probing inside, warm, damp and loud as it filled my brain.

Then, slowly, he started to fuck me. Each thrust was carefully poised, a slow pull-out followed by a very sharp re-entry, so just his knob was past my ring, then stillness again before he gradually eased deep and far inside, till those hairy globes touched my ass cheeks. He took time, and if he or I were remotely aware of his waiting mate, neither of us cared. He started to kiss my ear. What he didn’t know, is that this is pretty much my most sensitive erogenous zone…

My dick started to pulse, and I groaned:

‘I’ll cum, if you keep….’

‘Cum!’ the guy spoke darkly into my ear. And I did. Thick strings of cum shot from my throbbing dick and ran down the door of the sink unit, my balls bouncing as the guy continued to plough me, but more wildly by now.

He groped round to my knob, and cupped the last jet of my cum into his palm, and I felt him put his hand to his face and suck it into his mouth. Then he reached to my own mouth and made me lick the last of it myself.

‘You want my cum in your big sexy ass, man?’ he whispered close.

‘All of your cum…. please, all of it’ I was begging.

‘Here’ he whispered even more quietly, and his thrusts became longer, staying deep inside for longer, until, on his fourth stroke, he grabbed me firmly round my chest, pulled me back tightly against his chest, and his orgasm shook both our bodies. His legs trembled and I fought to breathe, his grip was so strong.

‘Maaaaaannnnnn’ he shouted, and again thrust deeper, further even than he’d been before. It felt like his whole lithe body was inside me. In my ass, I could feel the jets of his sperm coiling into me, and they kept coming.

He pushed down on me so I lent far over and into the sink. The weight of his whole upper body held me there, he rested his cheek on the nape of my neck, where the warm damp curls caressed as the sharp stubble on his chin tickled my shoulders.

He stayed there some time.

Then there came the knock on the door, as we had to have been expecting.

‘Where’s the tea, Mark?’

‘One minute, James… hang on’ the young guy called back. Mark pulled back off me, and his still hard dick slipped out of my well-lubed ass, a few drops of his semen falling to the floor.

‘Mark, then…’ I said. ‘Chuck here.’

‘Chuck the fuck!’ Mark scoffed. His grin was dirty, the gap in his teeth inviting exploration with a tongue, a dick. And he kept smiling at me as he pulled his trousers over the mast-like erection. As I made myself half-decent, my hole dribbling and my knob staining the jock with yet more soon to be crusty semen, I put my attention to the tea.

As the kettle boiled, I saw Make scribbling on the damp bit of paper with the scaffold design on it.

‘My number’ he explained. ‘I want to come back later’. And he came over, shoved the paper into my shorts, and pressed his body and his lips against mine. I wanted him inside me again, so soon. His sexual energy was special.

We took the tea out to James, who seemed perplexed.

’This guy needs some serious repair work done in there’ said Mark. ‘The place is in a bad state. I think I can help him out.’

‘Good on you. When we can get work right now we should grab it’ smiled James. He had a smile after all, and actually a quite handsome one too.

But it was Mark who came around again the next day, and we continued as we left off. The indoor repairs are still waiting to be started.

Comments

Nice one. I do think guys give of a certain vibe and sometimes its not really appreciated or understood. Yes know you were in shorts and jocked and horny but it does take two to tango. I enjoyed a flirt with a delivery guy, smiles and crotch looks so next time I did what you did, shorts and a jock and really got the looks and noted his hands were feeling his cock. Next time smaller shorts and an invite in and hey presto the beginning of a fine time, gave a new meaning to the term taking a delivery...
Waiting for the next instalment of your story so I can enjoy another good steady wank - as per instructions.
 

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