Date: Fri, 22 Dec 2000 00:14:09 +0000 (GMT)
From: Furry Frank <furryfranks_email@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Heavy Haulage

"Heavy Haulage"

September 2000
By Furry Frank, UK
furryfranks_email@yahoo.co.uk

______________________________________________________________________________

Warning! The following is intended for adults over eighteen years of age
only.  Please note that the text contains graphic descriptions of sexual
acts between males. If you find such matters distasteful, or if the perusal
of such material is illegal in your circumstances, you must go no further.
Brand names are used without implication or prejudice in regard to
intellectual property rights.  Names, places, persons and organisations
herein are fictitious.  Any similarities are purely coincidental.

______________________________________________________________________________


Foreword


Although the following is a work of fiction, some of the story is based
closely on one of my own experiences.  The rest is based on what I wish I
had experienced!


Part One "Concrete Cock Up"


Steve woke up with a raging hard-on as usual.  He rolled onto his side with
a groan to ease the pressure on his straining cock.  Then he slipped a hand
out from under his duvet and tried to smash his buzzing alarm clock into
oblivion.  He didn't succeed, but at least it stopped its noisy reveille.
Blinking open his eyes, he established that it was exactly five in the
morning.  He grinned to himself: He'd have plenty of time to get up for
work, after he'd taken care of the more urgent need between his legs.  He
shuffled himself upright and leaned against the headboard, taking his time.
Nothing could beat a long slow wank in the morning.  Well, nothing except a
fuck, but being single, it was time to say hello to Mister Palm and his
five friends.

Steve let the chilly air in his room raise a few goose bumps on his flesh,
exposed from the bedclothes from his waist up, before wriggling his duvet
over his thighs.  His cock sprang up as the duvet slid down, long, hard and
pointing at the ceiling, ringed by a bush of curly dark pubic hairs at the
base.  No need to rush Steve thought.  He began with running his hands over
his broad, muscular chest.  He'd been to the gym four evenings a week since
he was eighteen, so by his current twenty-four he'd developed a pretty
stout physique.  Standing a good six foot two, he was a big lad, thick with
muscle.  He could do with losing a stone to bring out the definition, but
that could wait until summer.  In his cold room in the middle of November,
a slight layer of blubber from too many indulgences in truckers' cafes
wasn't a disadvantage.  He ran his fingers over the slabs of his pectorals,
letting the covering of dark hairs tickle his palms, before wetting his
finger with his tongue to smooth down the hair over his stomach.  As the
tips of his fingers began to tickle his pubic bush, his cock gave an eager
twitch of anticipation.  He wriggled his legs, kicking his duvet off
completely and stretched out naked; quickly glancing over to the window to
make sure the curtains were shut.  He reached to his knees and brought his
hands slowly up his hairy thighs.  His cock was aching for attention now,
his scrotum shrinking, tightening his balls up against his body.  He
reached between his legs and cupped the damp sacks in his palm, gently
exploring the large globes.  He stroked gently up the underside of his
cock, from his balls to the thin fold of foreskin sheathing the tip.
Gently, he began to peel back his foreskin, to expose the smooth pink
glans, the piss hole oozing a few drops of clear pre-ejaculate fluid.
Steve gave his thick shaft a gentle squeeze, and a few more drops
accumulated at the tip.  He pushed his foreskin back over the glans before
tightly pulling it all the way back again to smear the fluid over the tip
of his cock.  His body was beginning to twitch with arousal, but he fought
back the urge to grab a tight hold and pump away.  Steve took a tight grasp
on his prick sending a ripple of pleasure through himself.  He felt the
force of an orgasm building up behind his bollocks, so paused for a moment,
to relish the sensation.  When he'd calmed a little he started to rub,
slipping his shaft slowly in and out of his fist.  He started slow, and
then stopped holding back and increased the pace, thrusting upwards with
his hips.  A couple of minutes of firm pounding, quietly groaning to
himself was all he needed.  He felt the rush of semen build up in his
balls, and with a final groan, let himself come, his orgasm shuddering
through his whole frame as several hot, wet spurts of semen shot from his
cock, splashing down over his stomach, and dribbling over his fist.  Steve
moaned with release, and squeezed the last drops of spunk from his cock,
onto his fingers, before wiping them onto his belly with the rest of his
mess.  He paused to catch his breath, satisfied that there were few better
ways to start the day than emptying your nuts.

Wide-awake at last, he had a quick rummage through his untidy pit of a
room, and eventually found a reasonably clean towel hanging over the
radiator.  He wrapped it around his waist and headed off to the bathroom
for a shower to clean the increasingly tacky spunk off his belly, while
giving his bollocks a good morning scratch.  The bathroom was one floor
down from Steve's room.  He was usually the first up, which proved to be a
good thing, as none of his house mates were likely to bump into him in the
morning, half naked and smelling sweaty and seminal.  He'd shared the house
in Birmingham with a couple of mates for the last two years.  They'd all
become bored with the inhibition of living with their parents, and had
rented a small Victorian terrace in a street of the same.  The state of the
place was a testament to the fact that there were three typical scruffy
blokes living there; the surface of the kitchen table was currently buried
under various fast food cartons, brimming ashtrays and empty lager tins.
Both Frank and Mike would still be fast asleep at this hour, each of them
in boring nine to five office jobs.  Steve was happy to leave them to it.
He'd had a variety of jobs after he'd left school: He'd started out as an
electrician's apprentice but didn't enjoy it much Eventually, he'd ended up
with a multi-drop driving job for a furniture firm.  It was hardly
fascinating, lugging Transits all over the city, but he'd enjoyed the
freedom of being out on the road.  Eventually, after some good advice and a
bit of financial backing from an uncle who'd been a lorry driver for years,
he managed to scrape together a couple of grand.  When he'd reached
twenty-one, he put it to use paying for his HGV training and eventually
acquired a Class One Artic licence.  Again with a good word from his uncle,
a mildly respectable haulage firm with depots in the midlands and the north
had set him on.  Steve caught the bug from the very start.  He'd never done
any intercontinental driving, but he'd been to just about every destination
in the UK, hauling everything from frozen food to toys.  Truth be told,
there was perhaps a touch of boys and their toys to it, but lorries turned
him on.  There was a sense of responsibility and indestructibility to
piloting 38 tons worth of vehicle up and down the nation's highways,
especially at his young age, and compared to Frank and Mike's boring office
jobs, the brass wasn't bad.

Steve shuffled down the cold corridor to the bathroom, locked the door and
shrugged his towel off his hips.  He had a good stretch and yawn and could
help indulging in a bit of vanity, bollock naked, in front of the full
length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door.  He definitely had
a good physique and enough between his legs to keep all but the most
demanding of partners satisfied.  He rubbed a hand through his short, dark
brown hair, and looked into the reflection of his brown eyes.  He was
almost good-looking, if in a slightly rough, untrustworthy sort of way.
Steve sighed, shaved and brushed his teeth before stepping into the shower.
The hot water felt great, as he soaped off the spunk matting down his body
hair.  He soaped himself all over, feeling the bulges of muscle at his
shoulders and biceps, before rubbing the lather into his groin.  The soapy
warm feeling soon began to trigger another erection.  He glanced at the
clock on top of the cabinet.  He'd time to squeeze in another tug.

Eventually, 15 minutes late, he made it to the depot and clocked in at
6:15.  He made an excuse about his bus being late and helped himself to a
strong cup of coffee to wake him up, and had a moan with the other drivers
about HGV excise duties and diesel taxes.  There were only a few of the
lads in that morning, along with Ruth, the telephonist, who also sorted out
the despatching and administration.  She'd been starting early to catch up
with a recent backlog of work, but most of the drivers had been teasing him
mercilessly, suggesting the real reason was to see Steve every morning.
"Watch out Steve, she's after you.  She's always on the look out for a bit
on the side when her husband's at sea!" It might have been true, but Steve
knew that she was barking up the wrong tree.  What they didn't know was the
fact women left him cold sexually.  He could and had performed with women
before, but a pair of bollocks did for him what a pair of breasts never
could.  Even as an innocent kid, before he'd learned that the thing between
his legs was supposedly for sticking into girls as well as having a piss,
he'd always had a stronger physical interest in other blokes.  He didn't
advertise his sexuality, and, if honest with himself, he wasn't
particularly comfortable with it.  In fact he sometimes found it a pain in
the arse.  Often literally.  If pressed, he'd be honest about his
occasional indulgences with other men, but he couldn't really accept
himself as gay.  He wasn't camp or anything, he just saw himself just a
typical, ordinary, working class bloke, who didn't mind a bit of fun with
another bloke.  Besides, thinking of Ruth, he couldn't see what a woman
would find attractive in him this particular morning.  All he could see in
the washroom mirror when he went for a piss was a scruffy, half asleep
young lorry driver in a pair of battered steel toed boots, grubby, badly
ironed checked shirt, reflective yellow waist coat and grease stained
501's.

Nevertheless, he usually called round to Ruth's office to say good morning.
Not only did she share his offbeat sense of humour, but she also kept a
framed photo of her husband on her desk he could have a surreptitious drool
over.  Ruth's other half was a strapping Staff Sergeant in an Infantry
regiment.  The blurry snapshot showed him in his barracks, smartly dressed
in his uniform with the three stripes at the biceps, taken at just the
right angle to show off his stocky physique.  His green trousers were
slightly rucked up in the snap, nicely emphasising a mouth-watering bulge
between his legs.  Lucky cow, he thought.  What he wouldn't give to have
something like that thrusting between his legs each time he came home on
leave.

"Wake up Steve!" she called, pissed off that he hadn't noticed her
expensive new hair cut.  "You're a million miles away this morning!"

"Sorry!"  Steve replied, taking his eyes off the picture and trying to
dismiss the erotic mental image he'd been forming.  "I'd better get going."

"So you should.  Still, it's not a million miles away you need to be.  In
fact it's nearer two hundred and fifty.  I've got an easy couple of days
for you young man, but you'll be away for a couple of nights.  Today you're
taking a load of building materials up to Barnsley.  You'll need to load up
at the builder's merchants and get there for ten o' clock if you can.  Then
you're picking up about 10 tons of injection moulded plastic components
from Newcastle to go back to Barnsley.  Drop your trailer at the Barnsley
depot.  Next day you're back up to Newcastle to do some local runs.  You'll
need to hook up a refrigerated trailer at the Newcastle Depot as it looks
you'll be hauling perishables that day.  I'll let you know when I find out
for sure.  We need you to drop the refrigerated trailer at the Barnsley
depot tomorrow and ferry the cab back here next morning.  You'll have to
stop over at Barnsley tonight and tomorrow.  All on your own."  Steve
didn't comment on the latter.  He just collected his driver's sheet and
taco disks from her, admiring her flawless efficiency, and made for the
door.  "Just a minute Steve.  I forgot to tell you something."

"Yeah?" he grunted.

"Your flies are undone."  Steve hurried out to the lorry park, blushing,
pulling his zip up.  He could still hear the guffaws of the drivers who'd
overheard Ruth as he banged the door behind him.  It was true that the
drivers were a rough lot, who gave her a fair bit of stick as a woman, but
she'd quickly learned to give as good as she got.  When he'd first started,
the other drivers had told him it was Ruth's job to give each of them a
blowjob on their birthdays as a wind up.  When Ruth found out about this
untruthful rumour, she promptly got her revenge by pouring liquid paraffin
into the canteen's tea urn.  Steve couldn't figure out why she was so
pissed off.  He'd have been happy to get down on his knees for at least
half of them.

Eventually, after he'd checked over his cab and trailer, and sorted out his
tachometer he was on his way.  With the 12-litre diesel rumbling
contentedly, he slipped the 16-speed gearbox of his Scania sleeper cab into
1st Low and headed off to the builder's merchants.  He'd never minded the
merchants as they did most of the work.  They had an incredibly efficient
computerised system for collections, and a team of forklift drivers to load
up the lorries as they came in.  All Steve needed to do was fold back the
curtain-side trailer and let them get on with it while he had smoke in the
tradesman's waiting room.  He flicked through his drivers sheet and road
atlas, trying to work out where his load was going.  From what he could
gather, it was some major building project in the north; an enormous new
complex of offices under construction, and the delivery was going straight
to the site.  One of the older drivers had sketched him a map on the back
of a Marlboro packet to show the entrance he'd need for HGV deliveries.
Before he'd got back to his cab, one of colleagues 'phoned him on his
mobile to ask if he needed any help zipping his flies up.  "Fuck off!"
Steve snorted indignantly and hung up.  Steve couldn't help thinking, given
that the driver who'd rung wasn't that bad looking, he'd have accepted his
offer if only he'd wanted to pull his flies down.  Half an hour later, he
was heading north on the A38, listening to his immense collection of
cassettes and chucking tab ends out of the window every half hour.  At
least his employer wasn't fussy about the drivers smoking in the cab.

He stopped for coffee and breakfast at a trucker's greasy spoon before
continuing north.  The drive was pretty boring apart from a stretch where
he was stuck behind a slow moving police motorcyclist.  It had given him a
chance to run his eyes over the copper's meaty leather clad thighs,
straddling the white yellow striped 'bike for a couple of miles.  Steve
couldn't help feeling a slight disappointment when he roared off at the
next exit, giving him one last look at his backside, tightly sheathed in
matt black hide.  Steve understood Ruth's attraction to a man in uniform.
He wouldn't have said no to him slapping on the cuffs and sticking his
truncheon up his hole.  He soon snapped out of his daydream when he
realised he was about to smash his artic into a line of cars queuing at a
roundabout.

Soon enough, he got to Barnsley, avoided the town centre and headed out
again.  The drop was just off a main road heading out the other side of the
town.  After 20 minutes, Steve turned off the main road and as he rumbled
down a wide straight B road until he noticed the site along side him.  The
sheer scale of the operation he glimpsed through the wire mesh fencing
encompassing the area impressed him.  He spotted the main entrance to the
site next to the firm's name plastered in foot high letters over a hoarding
attached to the wire fencing.  HGV deliveries were directed to a different
entrance a little further down.  Steve checked against his fag packet map.
He found the sign for the lorry park and swung the artic in.  As he drove
in he saw the total area covered by the construction site must have been
over two square miles. He drove in over the bumpy, dusty ground, feeling
the axles bouncing and followed the signs to the delivery area.  He pulled
up near a couple of other trucks, alongside a huge "Good Inwards"
warehouse, both being hurriedly unloaded of bags of cement.  Steve checked
his driver's sheet, which told him to ask for Mister W. Wilson as he
glanced out across the site and glanced over the busy site. He'd delivered
to dozens of sites but this was by far the biggest.  He'd never seen so
many JCB's in one place.  The shells of the main offices and warehouses
were complete and most of the building work was now limited to an
assortment of secondary buildings.  In addition to the builders, there was
a range of tradesmen on site from glaziers and sparkies to tarmac gangs and
plumbers.  The place had a dusty, oily, woody smell and continually seemed
to buzz with activity, the noise of vehicles, machines, pneumatic drill,
electrical generators and shouting men.  There had to be a hundred blokes
in hard hats running around.  Steve sighed.  He knew this was going to be
awkward for him.  Building sites were always full of the type of men Steve
couldn't help being attracted to, big rough types, with boots and hard
hats, oozing sweat and testosterone.  He noticed a couple of lads nearby
treating him to frequent glimpses of arse cleavage showing at the tops of
faded jeans and dusty combats as they bent over picking up bricks or
whatever.  He'd never found anything alluring about twinky types or
anything too well groomed.  Someone a bit earthy, rough around the edges
and overtly masculine, from squaddies to scaffolders, firemen to farmers,
even his fellow lorry drivers, made his prostate itch.  Occasionally, he
admitted to himself it was one of the reasons he'd wanted a trucking job in
the first place.  The thought of some hairy bit of rough barging up his
hole was beginning to give him another hard on.  The pressure in his jeans
became uncomfortable as Steve's currently one-track mind began to wonder.

"Oi!  Get tha fucking hat on mate!"  The shout snapped Steve back from his
usual daydreaming.  Ten yards off, a big, irritable builder was pointing a
thick finger toward a sign on the outside of the warehouse announcing, "No
Hard Hat no Job" with "Visitors Required to Comply" underneath.  Steve
nodded and reached into the cab to fish out his orange hard hat.  He
usually chucked it onto the dash to lean against the windscreen, but he
eventually found it wedged under the seat among half a dozen empty fag
packets.  He knew he'd have to clear his cab out soon before his supervisor
caught onto the state it was in and gave him a roasting.  The firm had made
the high-viz waistcoat he was already wearing compulsory for the drivers
and issued hard hats as standard, given the number of contracts they had
for hauling building materials to deliver direct to site.  Quite rightly,
most sites they delivered to insisted on appropriate head protection, but
Steve usually forgot until reminded.  Not that he minded at all.  In truth,
he loved wearing his mucky gear, as much as he liked other men wearing the
same.  It was a fetish he'd had for years, which his job luckily gave him
opportunity to indulge.  Something about a bloke in a pair of BTR
steel-toed wellies gave him an instant erection; in fact, the Arco work
wear catalogue was almost as good as pornography to Steve.

"That's more like it mate." responded the hefty builder, in his broad, flat
South Yorkshire accent, satisfied on seeing his hat in place as he emerged
from the cab, arse end first.  "We were expecting thee thirty minutes ago.
Better get you unloaded."  Steve loved that accent.  He could listen to it
all day, deep and earthy, yet honest sounding at the same time.  The
builder turned out to be one of the foremen, eagerly awaiting Steve's
delivery to complete his schedule on time.  The big, heavily built foreman
introduced himself as "Billy", and seemed to be friendlier under the
surface than his gruff manner first suggested.  In his late thirties,
greying and in need of a shave, there was still a certain rugged attraction
there for Steve.  He was a lot squatter but shorter than Steve, about
5'10", marginally overweight, but still had a thickset body with plenty of
muscle and stamina developed from years of physical work rather than in a
gym for aesthetics.  A few bristles of cropped greying hair showed from
under a battered yellow hard hat, with "Bill" stencilled on the back.
Steve was chuffed that he was even scruffier than he was, in a tatty blue
rugger shirt with the building company's logo, covered by a reflective
waistcoat, full of grime, holes and wet concrete.  Steve noticed he was
wearing Caterpillar boots similar to his own, before he unavoidably gave
his groin a quick glance.  Steve gulped involuntarily.  The bulge between
the foreman's legs was enormous.  He could barely tear his eyes away.  He
must have been hung like a pit yard donkey underneath his heavy-duty royal
blue Arco trousers.

Steve shook himself back to reality, and suddenly needing another piss,
asked Bill where to go.

"Well tha'd better tie a knot in tha prick son, 'cos it's a long walk."
Bill explained that the plumbers had recently encountered a few problems;
hence the only toilet working was on the second floor of one of the new
office buildings just behind the delivery warehouses.  "If I were thee, I'd
do what rest o' t' lads do and piss up against t' back wall o' t'
warehouse."  Steve thanked him, but headed off for the office anyway.  He
was far from shy, but he couldn't face standing in a line with a load of
hulking young builders with their cocks in their hands pissing against a
wall.  He'd never be able to stop himself from looking and getting a very
embarrassing and public hard-on.

Steve found the offices' second floor bathroom and emptied his bladder.  He
had a look around while he was there.  Most of the work seemed to have been
done on the offices, which were clearly destined to be those large open
planned Habitat furnished types, with a few smaller side rooms for
photocopying or faxing or some such bollocks.  Sort of place Steve's
housemates were imprisoned from nine to five he thought.  This block wasn't
quite Habitat yet, though; the floors littered with surplus building
materials and the walls nothing but bare wet plaster.  Steve sat down on a
crate, watching from a window where he could see them unloading his lorry
and dug his 'phone from his back pocket.  He called Ruth to see if she'd
sorted out his deliveries in Newcastle.  Ruth replied in the negative and
told him to call back later.  She told him to check his flies were still
up.  Steve found his way back and Bill showed him the catering Portakabin,
where he could finish waiting for the unloading.  He took of his yellow
hard hat to scratch his cropped thinning hair and spent five minutes having
a cup of tea and fag with him, and as a friendly joke, continually took the
piss out of his Birmingham accent, before leaving him to get on his way.
Steve didn't see him again until he left, at a distance, where he saw the
big foreman angrily shouting, bawling and swearing at a sturdy young
apprentice builder who had accidentally emptied out a few hundred weight of
wet concrete over a an inspection cover.  Bill's face had been red with
fury, the veins in his thick neck standing out as the doleful and
apologetic looking lad endured his embarrassing tirade with the whole site
and all the delivery drivers watching him.

Steve headed off, impatient to get back on the road, this time onward to
the A1 and, up toward Newcastle.  Apart from a coach load of respectable
girls from a respectable school on a trip who made all manner of lewd
gestures at him from the back seat, flashing bra's and knickers, the trip
was dull.  With a couple of dozen pallets of plastic trays loaded on at
Newcastle, he headed back to the drop just on the outskirts of Barnsley.
The foreman he encountered this time hadn't been so helpful as at the last
drop.  He was a mousy little bloke in a shirt and tie with gold-rimmed
glasses by the name of Andrews.  He was one of those self-superior types
who treated lorry drivers like scum, Steve especially as he was young and
scruffy.  He might not have been the brain of Britain, but he wasn't as
thick as this twat took him to be.  He did nothing more than point to a
forklift, patronisingly told him where he wanted the pallets and watched
him every minute as he unloaded his lorry.  He even checked to make sure he
had a forklift licence and wouldn't let him smoke on the premises.

Glad to leave Andrews far behind him, he finally pulled into his firm's
depot in Barnsley around teatime, completely knackered with his eyes aching
from a bad case of highway hypnosis.  He was looking forward to a night's
rest and another good wank in the morning.  Steve got one of the other
drivers to help him uncouple the trailer, which left him even more filthy,
covered in grease to add to the rest of the mud and grime that had been
drying onto his clothes over the course of the day, After scrubbing his
hands clean with an industrial cleanser and tidying himself up as best he
could, he had a cuppa and a chat with the other drivers in the canteen.
Someone had recorded a rugby league match from the weekend and stuck the
tape into the canteen TV.  Steve wasn't much of a sportsman beyond his
trips to the gym, which he'd miss over the next two days, but he did enjoy
watching rugby league.  Mainly for the occasional tantalising glimpses of
the players' jockstraps, the leg tapes showing at the bottom of their
shorts in a tackle, a thin white elastic line tracing the curves of their
arses.  Steve shook images of shiny satin clad muscular buttocks out of his
mind and said good night to the other lads.  His groin was more than a
little unsettled and it would start to show if he stayed to watch the rugby
much longer.  He thought about finding a lay-by and sleeping in the cab to
save his brass, but in his dishevelled state, he decided to treat himself
to the usual truckers' motel most of the lads used in this neck of the
wood.  It wasn't spectacular, but then Steve wasn't too fussy and it was
only thirty quid for an en-suite room plus overnight HGV parking.  He
walked back to his cab; looking forward to a shower, clean sheets and a
bloody good tug.  Once he'd climbed in he rummaged around for his 'phone to
so he could make sure it was to hand to call Ruth and check on his schedule
next morning.  Except he couldn't find it.

"Fucking Hell!" muttered Steve, clenching his teeth in anger.  After 15
minutes of violent swearing and chucking all the crap in the cab from one
side then back to the other, he sat down in the driver's seat trying to
work out where he'd lost it.  It came to him in an instant.  It was when
he'd gone for a piss at his first drop.  He'd left it on the window ledge
of the offices when he was watching his trailer being off loaded.  It could
have been worse.  It wasn't that late in the day, and the building site was
only twenty minutes off.  He didn't fancy explaining to his boss that he'd
lost the 'phone they'd issued him with and particularly didn't want to pay
for it out of his wages.  Cursing himself for being so utterly stupid, he
set off to the other side of town, hoping he could find it before some
builder nicked it.

By the time he got back to the site where he'd made his first drop, it was
dark and the gates for trade deliveries had been shut.  Luckily, the main
entrance was open, so he parked the lorry in the lay by almost opposite,
hoping the vehicle would be all right for half an hour.  He stuck the keys
into his jeans pocket, at least remembering to put his hard hat on this
time.  There was a Portakabin by the main door that served as an office, so
Steve explained his predicament and asked if it'd be OK to nip over to the
block round the back of the goods in warehouse and see if his 'phone was
there.  They gave him a visitors badge and told him he'd forty minutes or
so before they'd lock up.  Steve stamped angrily over piles of sand and
bags of cement, discarded spades, wheelbarrows and so on, heading for the
block.  Most of the builders and tradesmen had clocked off, leaving the
building site almost eerie compared to the noise and bustle when he'd been
there earlier in the day.

Steve soon walked over to office he was after and made it to the second
floor, heading through the fire door and quietly walking down the partly
plastered corridor to the room at the far end where he reckoned he'd left
his 'phone.  Half way down he heard the distinct scrape of work boots on a
dusty floor in one of small photocopying rooms.  He paused by the door and
heard a muffled voice followed by a loud grunt that was unmistakably
sexual, sending a surprised tingle of excitement through Steve's loins.  He
glanced through the tiny wire-mesh reinforced glass window of the side room
door and saw a big bloke in dirty blue work clothes and a yellow hard hat
with his back partially toward him.  Another builder in similar work
clothes, a fresh-faced sturdy young lad around eighteen, was in his knees
in front of him, enthusiastically rubbing the bigger bloke between his
legs.  He'd heard Steve walking outside the door, and the big bloke shouted
for him to come in and make sure the door was shut behind him.  Overcome by
curiosity, Steve did as instructed and entered the room, dimly lit by a
bare bulb.  It was empty apart from a pile of crates and assorted building
materials against one bare wall, the fresh plaster starting to dry out.
The big bloke pushed the lads hand away and turned round.  Steve found
himself staring straight into the eyes of Bill, the foreman, with a
sheepish grin on his face.  The front of his grubby trousers were tented
outwards, and Bill casually rubbed his stiff cock through the dense
material.

"You're t' lorry driver from this morning int thee?"  Steve couldn't
answer.  He was transfixed by the foreman's bulging crotch and rigid with
shock, wondering what the fuck was going on.

"Steve innit?  Thought tha'd be back.  Left yer phone next door.  I've made
sure it still there for thee."  Bill grinned broadly at Steve's dumbfounded
expression in response to the scene he'd walked in on.  With a guffaw, Bill
decided to offer him something in the way of an explanation.

"I'm conductin' a site initiation for t' new lad 'ere" he explained,
casually.  "Showin' him whose boss like!  Ee's been lippy all day, so I've
brought him up here t' keep his gob occupied with somat else for a change!"
Bill scowled at the kneeling builder who was looking at back and forth from
Steve to the foreman with a worried and uncertain expression creasing his
forehead. Steve recognised him, as the same lad Bill had been bollocking in
front of everyone earlier.  He was young, well built, and good looking with
shaved dark blond hair.  Like his foreman, the crotch of his orange
trousers was bulging with an erection. The burly foreman glared down at
him.

"S' about fucking time he were taught a bit o'discipline!  Besides, I've to
punish him for that cock up with spilling concrete all over t' fucking
place.  Set us all back half a day."  The foreman was still openly stroking
his erection through his trousers, and careful watching Steve, gauging his
response.  Steve couldn't say a word; his heart was pounding and his mouth
dry with this unexpected turn of events.  His couldn't help but stare with
lust at the bulging front of the foreman's trousers.  Bill broke into
another knowing grin, still rubbing himself.  He seemed to have found the
response he'd expected from Steve.  He gestured toward the young builder.

"Tha can stick around and help us out if tha wants.  It'll be a change
driving around in that fucking lorry all day."

Steve was genuinely surprised: He had never thought for a second that the
foreman was anything other than a typically straight chauvinist builder.
He'd wanted at closer look at that enormous bulge in his pants from the
moment they'd met, but never imagined he'd get the chance.  Either Bill was
taking one hell of a chance about him or he'd sussed him out all along.
He'd probably noticed him staring at his groin earlier, sniffing around him
like a bull in heat.  Steve's own cock was rapidly stiffening, and lust
soon got in the way of common sense.  Thinking as he always did, with his
bollocks instead of his brains, he decided it was too good an opportunity
to miss.  What the fuck, he thought; no one was likely to find out and it
was better than a wank in the back of the cab.  He signalled he was up for
it by unzipping his flies, his power of speech at last returning to him.
"Sounds fine by me." He stammered.  "Good lad!" responded Bill without
fuss. "Young 'uns name's Pete."

"'Evening'" responded the lad cheerfully, looking greedily at Steve's
groin.  "This un's Steve," continued Bill, "'Looks like he's gonna check
tha over t' make sure tha's not HGV positive or owt!"

Bill unbuckled his belt, snorting at his own bad joke and dropped his blue
trousers down to his filthy size twelve steel-toed boots.  Pete didn't
waste any time, reached for the front of the foreman's stripy briefs and
started rubbing his bulging crotch again enthusiastically.  There was
little that Steve could do other than watch, fascinated, as Pete firmly
rubbed the foreman's balls with one hand and squeezed the straining bulge
of his stiffening cock through the thin cotton of his underpants.  Pete
took his hard hat off then spread open ends of Bill's torn yellow high-vis
waistcoat, carefully reaching under his shirt and pulling down the
foreman's underpants to join his trousers 'round his ankles, releasing his
hard cock.  Steve had been right about the bulge between his legs he'd
admired earlier.  With his tackle out, he proved to be a big bloke in every
way.  The foreman's large, erect cock sprang up from beneath his dirty
concrete spattered rugby shirt, long and thick, his foreskin slightly
retracted.  Pete ran his hands up Bills stocky, hairy thighs, before
grabbing his big hairy balls with one hand and gently stoking the rigid
shaft with the other.

Bill grunted as the lad firmly pulled back his foreskin to reveal his shiny
pink glans, the slot at the tip already oozing with pre-ejaculate.  The lad
leaned forward to gingerly lick the tip of the foreman's cock with his
young pink tongue, gently probing the oozing piss hole.  Bill grunted
louder and thrust his cock toward the lads wet waiting mouth, but Pete held
back slightly, his mouth still open, before slipping his tongue beneath
Bill's foreskin and slowly running his it around the tip, his cock, licking
beneath the fleshy rim.  Bill groaned, his cock rock hard and his fists
tightly clenched by his sides.

 "Stop fucking teasin' and get on with it!" growled Bill, angrily, his cock
twitching.  Both of them ignored the fact Steve was there, watching and on
with it.  Pete shuffled forward between Bill's knees and lapped his tongue
over his balls then wet his lips with his tongue and started to lick to
full length of the foreman's shaft, slicking it with spit from its purple
tip to the coarse dark bush of pubes around the base.  As Steve watched,
with his own cock quickly stiffening, Pete opened wide and closed his mouth
tightly over the tip of Bill's prick, sucking enthusiastically.

"Fucking Hell!" Bill moaned, thrusting his hips forward, his slick cock
sliding deeply into Pete's tight mouth.  Pete grabbed the foreman's broad
hairy arse with both hands, his fingers digging into his crack, pulling him
into until he hit the back of his throat with almost two thirds of his dick
inside him.  He gagged slightly, but held him there before he began rocking
on his knees sliding Bill's meat rapidly in and out of his mouth, sucking
furiously as he rolled his tongue over the large cock.

Steve was watching intently, rubbing his own cock as his strong erection
pressed against the inside of his jeans.  Pete got stuck in to sucking Bill
and continued for a couple of minutes, slipping his tight lips up and down
Bill's big cock, his rhythm increasing, until the grunting foreman finally
started coming, moaning with pleasure and thrusting into the lad's mouth,
"Fuck!" he swore through gritted teeth, his breathing heavy and laboured,
beads of perspiration across his brow beneath the peak of his yellow hard
hat.  Bill held his body rigid before giving a loud animal bellow, his
knees buckling slightly as he ejaculated into Pete's warm mouth, his thick
seminal globs spurting copiously against the back of his throat.  He
shuddered as a couple of additional spasms sent a few more spurts dribbling
out.  Bill relaxed, gasping as Pete let go of his arse and slid his sticky
cock from his mouth.  The softening tip eased out with a slurp and Steve
caught a faint trace of the arousing smell of fresh semen.  Pete swilled
the gob-full of spunk around his mouth swallowed the lot conspicuously as
Bill wiped his cock on Pete's shirt and pulled up his underpants and
trousers.  Pete stayed on his knees as Bill bent down to give the lad's
bulging crotch a rough tweak through his grimy orange trousers as Steve
noticed the tip of his erect cock just poking up past the waistband.

Steve would have described the lad's technique as unrefined, but he clearly
knew how to give a quick suck and he hoped he was next in line for the same
treatment Bill had just received.  Steve had pulled his cock out by now,
sticking rigid out of his flies, and he'd been slowly wanking as he watched
the two men.  They both looked over at Steve.  He could feel himself begin
to blush, as he noticed them looking at his dick, grinning at him standing
there with his cock out, wanking like some sort of moron.

"Well don't just stand tha daft fuckwit, get over here" chuckled Bill,
fastening his belt over his belly, leering at Steve while digging out a
cigarette and lighting up.  Pete remained on his knees as Steve anxiously
took up position in front of him.

"Come on tha dozy cunt, get that gob workin'," Bill grunted, cuffing Pete
roughly around the ear.  Pete paused to wipe a smear of the foreman's spunk
from the corner of his mouth and winked at Steve.

"Come on then mate, let' s be having you," he suggested, greedily eyeing up
Steve's dick.  Steve stood still, waiting for Pete to start while Bill
leaned against the wall to finish his Regal and watch.  Steve finished
unfastening his flies and let his trousers fall.  Pete slowly slid down his
boxers pulling the waistband out to ease his underpants past his eager
cock.  Steve looked down to see Pete grinning up at him then felt a creamy
wave of pleasure as Pete began to touch his prick, rubbing his hot rigid
shaft in his hand, his fingers exciting him further as they slowly felt his
balls.  He stroked Steve firmly but gently as he simply stood there
enjoying his attentions.  He become highly aroused more quickly than he had
expected and he could feel his climax wasn't far away.  He concentrated on
holding back, not wanting to show himself up with a premature sexual
performance in front of a couple of strangers.

Luckily, the lad sensed how excited he was, and waited a moment watching a
little trickle of precum drip from Steve's cock before starting on his
blowjob.  As with the foreman he began by exploring around Steve's foreskin
with his tongue, Steve feeling the membrane stretch and the sensations
rippling through him.  It felt bloody good.  He still had to concentrate to
stop himself coming before he began to suck.  He understood how the foreman
must have felt, as he too was aching for Pete to take him into that wet
gaping mouth.  Pete slipped him in and started bobbing at his crotch, his
mouth working up and down his cock fast and relentless as Steve gasped at
the warm slick pleasure roaming up and down his shaft.

 "Go on lad," Bill interrupted, "Get that length of trucker's cock down
tha!  Suck him harder!  Tha should have got him off by now!"  Pete did as
he was told and sucked on Steve's cock harder and quicker.  The increased
suction made Steve feel even stiffer, and the tongue flickering against his
shaft and cockhead sent him off the edge.  He felt Pete's hand grasp his
taut scrotum, squeezing his balls as they throbbed and a shudder rolled
through his body.  A choked grunt escaped Steve as he felt the point of no
return pass and a moment later he couldn't stop himself and came, feeling
himself spill his load into that slick sucking mouth.  He felt his spurts
quickly subsiding, and he stepped back panting, Pete still sucking out the
last drops as his cock slipped from his mouth with one last tickle of
pleasure.  He watched Pete, still on his knees between his legs as he
tasted then swallowed his spunk.

Steve shuffled back, his trousers still around his ankles, catching his
breath.  The foreman handed Steve a Regal from behind his ear with a
particularly satisfied grin, glancing at his softening cock. He turned to
Pete, scowled and barked

"Right then tha little cock sucking bastard, lets get thee sorted!"  Steve
was going to suggest returning the favour, but sensed that Bill had other
ideas for his 'initiation'

"Come on you stupid little wanker, get stripped down yer fucking bollocks!"
he ordered.  Pete got up and did as instructed without hesitation, tugging
off his work clothes and boots.  Steve enjoyed watching him strip as he
tucked his spent cock back into his shorts and jeans.  Pete soon had his
kit off, leaving Steve to admire him naked especially his hard cock,
sticking out in front of him as rigid as a fireplace poker.  He was slim
but fit, with a strong young body and a long circumcised cock, impressive
for a lad of eighteen, surrounded by a curly halo of gingery blond hairs.
He was breathing deeply; his cheerful young faced flushed with sexual
excitement, bollock naked but for an earring in his left lobe

"Start wanking yersen off then, tha dozy arsehole!"  Bill shouted.  Pete
unselfconsciously took hold of his cock and started to wank quickly,
beating his meat and moaning, rushing to bring his climax as ordered.  The
foreman and Steve watched the lad taking his pleasure for an enjoyable
couple of minutes standing just in front of him, before Bill cuffed Pete
sharply around the ears again, knocking him off his stroke.

"For fuck's sake, do it properly lad!" he barked, roughly pushing him back.
"Sorry mate..." Pete began, but Bill quickly cut him off.

"Turn thesen 'round tha stupid cunt."  Bill nodded at Steve and nodded to
the pile of stuff in the corner.

"Fetch us that length o' rope mate" he grunted.  Steve, curious as to what
he was up to, found it and passed it to the foreman, watching him as he
tied Pete's hands firmly behind his back with the short length of thick,
greasy rope, eagerly waiting for whatever he was going to do next.  He
yanked the end of the rope to make sure it was firm, and pushed Pete back
round to face him, a nervous expression crossing the lad's face.  The
foreman kicked his legs wider apart with his boots and spat a big gob into
the palm of his hand.  He carefully spat out another gob to dribble down
onto the tip of Pete's twitching cock and gripped him tightly in his
lubricated fist.  He started to wank him off, slipping him in out of his
fist, with rapid, brutal upstrokes slapping his hand against Pete's balls,
with slower down strokes.

 "That' s how tha should do it!" Bill advised, still rubbing.  Pete was
moaning softly, his hips thrusting forward against the foreman's tight
rubbing fist, desperate to come, his cock steadily oozing precum to add to
the spit.  Steve watched, listening to the squelches as Bill rubbed.  Just
before he made him come, Bill stopped, letting his hand go.

"Oh, God..." Pete gasped, looking into Bill's eyes, silently pleading.
Bill just grinned back at him with an evil leer.  "Your go Steve." he
offered, "Don't let 'im empty his balls though.  He aint earned it just
yet."

Steve was really getting into this, fucking about with a couple of
builders.  For no reason he could explain, he felt a slight sense of guilt,
and a nagging fear they'd get caught but the situation was such a turn on
he just couldn't help himself.  They'd got this young builder naked, hard
and under control.  They could do what they liked with him.  Steve's prick
was pushing against his jeans again as he took Bill's pace in front of Pete
and enthusiastically got started on the lad.  He'd wanked men off before,
but never like this, in complete control of the situation, with someone
else watching, able to take his time.  Steve slowly began stroking Pete's
smooth, hot cock, still wet with Bill's spit, slowing down when appeared
near to coming, using his hand to tease, trying to keep him moaning and
twitching.  He was still tempted to get down his knees and use his mouth as
Pete had done for him, wanting to taste that eager young cock, but kept to
Bill's instructions.  Pete was groaning steadily, as Steve continued to
slowly wank him, getting him progressively more aroused, his cock still
oozing precum.  Steve left his cock alone for a moment ran his hand over
his flat stomach; ruffled his gingery pubes then stroked up the insides of
his thighs.  Steve began to gently prod and tease his tight balls, with his
fingers, rolling his bollocks in his palm before squeezing them firmly,
enjoying the damp feeling of his scrotum.

"Shit!" Pete moaned, closing his eyes as Steve's hand returned to his rigid
cock.  Steve could feel Pete's heavy breaths against him, standing just in
front of him as he continued to stimulate him.  Pete let out a particularly
long moan and a few shudders started to rock his body, his arse cheeks
tensing up as an orgasm began.

"Don't you fucking dare come yet!" Bill shouted at him angrily, "Or I'll
take thee outside and kick the fucking shit out of thee before sticking tha
P45 right up tha useless fucking arse!"  Pete swallowed with genuine fear
at the threat, gritting his teeth to painfully hold back the building surge
between his legs.  Panting with frustration, he managed, though a few
pearly beads of semen formed at the tip of his twitching cock.

Bill took over, shouldering Steve aside, stepping into place and used his
thick fingers to teasingly smear the drops down Pete's prick, slowly
running his rough digit down the thick vein on the underside of his prick.
They locked eyes with each other, Pete trying to hold back and Bill using
his fingers to force his orgasm with his probing digit.  Still staring
angrily into Pete's eyes to gauge if he was going to come, the foreman
licked his big index finger and reached between Pete's legs, slipping his
digit past his balls and crouching a little to reach further forward.  Bill
then abruptly pushed his way upwards into the crack between Pete's spread
legs and shoved his thick wet finger straight up his tight young arse.  He
winced slightly with the painful intrusion before Bill prodded his finger
deeper into his arsehole, banging into his prostate.

"Aghh! Fuck!" whimpered Pete as the sensation triggered a response from
deep inside him, rippling all the way through his loins.  His legs buckled
slightly and a few more drops of his semen escaped his cock as he
concentrated with every ounce of will power he had to stem the urge to let
himself go.

"Not yet!  Not tell I bloody well say!" Bill shouted angrily as Pete
shuddered again.  Bill waited for a moment until he was sure Pete had got
himself under control, then stepped out of the way, and grunted at Steve.

"Come on then Steve lad, see if tha can keep this little bugger going a bit
longer." Steve stepped back up to Pete looking him in the eye.  Pete nodded
he was ready for more, and then Steve reached for his cock again.

The drops of semen dripped down his shaft, trickled over his balls and left
a series of wet splashes on the dirty floor between his feet.  Steve licked
his fingers, tightly circled a thumb and forefinger round the lad's prick
and began slipping the tight fleshy hole up and down his shaft. After a
minute or two, at Bill's suggestion Steve took off his orange hard hat to
use on Pete's throbbing cock.  Steve began rubbing the smooth shiny dome of
plastic on the underside of his prick, watching him flinch slightly at its
cold feel.  He rapidly guided his hard hat back and forth against his
erection until Pete started to shudder and buckle at the knees again,
moaning with torturous pleasure, semen oozing.  Pete's cock was now as hard
as any Steve had seen, inflated even larger, the skin tight and shiny, the
ridge of the head with its circumcision scar like rock against his fingers.
One slight touch was all he would need to bring him off.

 "Oh, please fellas, that's enough, let me cum" he begged, his whole body
twitching with excitement and frustration, his wrists straining in the rope
behind his back, sweat running from his armpits.

"Tha's not had enough yet!"  scoffed Bill "What you fink Steve?"

"Dunno" Steve shrugged, breaking into a broad smile, enjoying himself too
much to want to stop.  The lad was just managing to stop himself
ejaculating where he stood, his eyes glazed and his cock pointing at the
ceiling.

"Come on," Bill prompted, "Tha'd better start beggin' fer It.," he growled
with relish.  Pete didn't hesitate, his pride swallowed by the burning need
of his cock.  "Please Billy, sorry, I mean Mister Wilson, please bring us
off. Come on mate, lerrus shoot me load, me balls are killing me, I need to
cum..."

"Shut the fuck up!" Bill interrupted, giving him another crack around the
ears, eyeing him contemptuously before brushing his hand over the tip of
Pete's prick, the feathery touch bringing another small dribble and a
tortured gasp of excitement from Pete.

"Right then, tha useless little cunt, I reckon tha's' had enough.  But the
next time tha tips cement all over the bloody site I'll fucking bury thee
in it!" he shouted.  Bill suddenly grabbed Pete by his swollen bollocks,
and gave him a good painful squeeze while he spat into his hand again.  He
took hold of Pete, gripping him by the left shoulder to hold him steady
while grasping his prick in his slimy right hand.  The foreman brutally
wanked him like before, slipping his tight wet fist quickly up and down the
lads' throbbing cock.  Half a dozen rough wanking strokes was all it took
until Pete finally climaxed, crying out loudly, a series of final shudders
rocking his stout young frame.  His hips pushed powerfully forward into
Bill's fist, as copious spurts of thick white spunk began to spurt from his
dick, bulging in the foreman's grasp.  Moaning noisily, Pete was still
ejaculating in Bills hand, wet silvery ropes spurting out, before subsiding
to a few last dribbles.  Steve was impressed.  He'd rarely seen so much
spunk from one orgasm before, never expecting so much from a young lad like
Pete.  Pete finally groaned deeply with satisfaction, still sweating, but
his tense body slowly relaxed, his cock deflating.

"Thanks" he gasped with heartfelt relief as Bill relaxed his hold on his
deflating cock and released his grip on his shoulder.  Bill wiped his hand
over Pete's chest, grimacing with disgust, cleaning the lad's spunk off his
hand.

Bill had shifted his stout body sideways to avoid Pete's spurts, but
glancing down to stamp the wet evidence into dirt, he noticed a thick glob
dribbling down the steel toecap of his right boot.  With an angry snarl he
pushed Pete, his hands still tied, down on his knees again.

"Tha's made this fucking mess so tha can fucking clean up after thesen" he
commanded.  Pete looked confused.  "Use yer fucking tongue dickhead!" Bill
clarified.  With slight reluctance, Pete crouched down, stuck out his
tongue and began licking the foreman's boots.  He earnestly cleaned off the
spunk, and lapped the grimy toecap until the leather began to shine through
and swallowed a mouthful of spunk and mud with a repellent expression for
the taste.

"While you're at it Steve here could do with a bit of spit and polish son"
he ordered and gave Steve another crafty wink.  He let Pete shuffle over on
his knees and repeat the degrading task on Steve's boots.  Steve enjoyed
watching him down by his feet, tied up and bollock naked and licking,
feeling a charge from the power they had over him, understanding exactly
what it was about this that Bill liked.  Pete leaned back, from Steve
finished, with muddy streaks around his mouth.  Bill churned his mouth and
spat a large gob of spit into Pete's face.  With his hands tied he could do
nothing but let the foul glob drip down his cheeks.  Steve casually pushed
his boot between the kneeling lads legs and rubbed his toecap into his
groin, wiping off any remaining spit and mud.  Pete knelt there
uncomfortable and humiliated, but making no protest about what they were
doing.

"Tha's gorra dirty face lad.  Steve and me 'ere best wash it off for thee."
Bill announced, unzipping his fly again and puling his now soft cock
through the slit.  With a quiet grunt, he aimed his prick at Pete and
abruptly began to piss, a pungent yellow stream of urine rushing out of his
fat dick, splashing against Pete's face.  Pete gave a quick yelp of
surprise as the warm, smelly piss started to splash over him.  The
foreman's stream continued as he directed the flow of piss over Pete's
body.  Pete knelt still, steeling himself to take another humiliation.
Bill hosed his shoulders and pissed against the lad's chest, belly and
thighs and between his legs.  He gruffly ordered Pete to open his mouth
wide.  Pete complied as Bill then started to piss straight into the lads
open mouth, the stream arcing straight from his cock into Pete's waiting
gob.  Bill shouted at Pete to start swallowing.  With a grimace he
swallowed the mouth full of concentrated piss and opened up to let him fill
up again.  Steve was surprised at the size of Bill's bladder.  The flow
showed no sign of stopping yet.  Watching another man pissing made Steve
feel he could use a piss himself, so stood by Bills side, and fetched out
his own prick, pointing it in Pete's direction before beginning to empty
his own bladder over Pete. He listened to the steady patter of their
streams of urine over him, enjoying the strong smell of ammonia from there
mixing piss.  He pissed all over Pete, watching it shoot from the end of
his cock.  When he felt his flow start to finish, he directed the last of
it into his mouth as Pete struggled to gulp down the nauseating liquid.
Bill's flow started to subside at last and the two men finished, almost
together, shaking the last drops off their cocks onto Pete's bare flesh
before they zipped up.  Pete knelt still, dripping and wet, shaking their
piss out of eyes and trying not to retch at the unpleasant taste left in
his mouth.  The foreman looked down at Pete with a sneer and spat one last
gob into his face.  Steve hocked up a gob of spit and did the same,
watching Pete flinch as it hit him in the eye.

"Right then lad, you're done," announced Bill "I hope tha's learned tha
fucking lesson.  Tha'll not be spillin' concrete again; will you, you
little bastard? "  "Er, no Mister Wilson, sorry about that." responded
Pete, somewhat sheepishly, still on his knees and dripping with their spit
and piss.  Bill scowled at him.

 "Tha'd better had, 'cos if tha does owt so fucking stupid again I'll have
thee up 'ere once more, except next time you'll be sucking every fucking
cock on the whole fucking site!" Pete swallowed nervously at the threat.
The foreman ordered him to get on his feet, and roughly pushed him round
and untied his wrists.  Pete rubbed his circulation back into his hands,
waiting anxiously for the next order from his foreman.  Bill chucked him a
grubby rag from one of the crates to dry off with and at last told him he
could get dressed.  Five minutes later he was still filthy with his work
gear back on and strongly smelling of their piss.  Bill poked about the
room to make sure there was no evidence of their activities left behind.
The puddle of cold piss on the floor would be dry by morning.

"Right lad, tha can fuck off.  Get yersen 'ome for a shower, I can smell
this 'ere lorry driver's piss on thee from a mile off." he told Pete.  Bill
fixed him with a final glare as Pete was edging towards the door.

"Make sure tha keeps this to yersen and don't be late in t' fucking
morning!" he cautioned, grinning malevolently at him.  He opened the door
to get off and clean himself up properly as advised.

"Yeah, Mister Wilson, err, thanks for that.  See you isn't mornin'." he
gave Steve a respectful nod. "See you around then!"  With that he turned
and stomped off to find the stairs.  Steve had a last look at his arse as
he turned, round and firm beneath his trousers and half hoped that he would
see him again.  He could think of better things than a P45 to stick up that
particular builder's arse.

Steve followed Bill out of the offices, his head buzzing with the charge
he'd got out of the unexpected session.  Nonetheless, the experience had
left him feeling slightly uncomfortable, and he was looking nervously
around to make sure no one had seen.  Despite a faint pang of guilt, he
wanted more.  He definitely wanted to do this again sometime. The foreman
explained he occasionally gave some of the new lads this sort of
'initiation' after they'd started "to show them who was boss."  He
obviously had a pretty enviable ability to suss out which lads would be up
for it and keep quiet about what was going on.  After all, Steve supposed,
he'd sussed himself out from the start, despite his macho lorry driver
image.

They walked out the building, Bill locking the doors behind him, toward the
car park opposite, empty but for a dirty white Transit van, earnestly
puffing on a tab.  He got to the van and ground out his dog end with his
boot.  Steve suddenly found he didn't want to let him go.  He wanted to get
his hands on Bill's cock and found he was mildly envious of Pete.  He
wouldn't mind Bill giving him that sort of treatment himself, on his knees
in front of the big, hairy attractive brute, doing every humiliating thing
he was ordered.  Macho lorry driver or not, he thought about suggesting a
night back at the truckers' rest together, but could just see Bill scoffing
the suggestion aside straight off.  But he wasn't going to let him go
without trying his luck.  He was coming back to Barnsley the following
evening, so how could he say no to a quick fuck, no strings attached?

"You got anyone in need of sorting out tomorrow night?" he chanced.  Bill
grinned wickedly: He'd been waiting for the question.  Christ, the bastard
had certainly got Steve sussed out!

"Thought Tha'd be asking' that." he chuckled, "but tha's out o' luck mate.
Pete's on an early shift.  So's rest o' lads likely t' be interested."
Steve couldn't make out whether he was telling the truth or not, or whether
he was deliberately pushing him into a corner.  If he wanted him, he was
going to make him ask for it.  It would have to be at his suggestion, and
Bill would make him beg for it if he could.  That's what turned him on.
Professionally and sexually, he was a man used to being in charge.  Bill
gave him an evil leer as he waited for him to respond.

"Well I'll be back down this way after I've been to Newcastle tomorrow, and
I don't mind someone showing me whose boss once in a while if there's no
one else who needs a seeing to."  Steve waited for his response, his heart
pounding, like some schoolboy with a crush.

The foreman stuck his hands on his hips and let out a loud dirty laugh.  "I
fucking knew it mate. Tha can't wait to get thesen a taste of cock can
tha?"  He already knew the answer to that one as much as Steve did.  "I'll
see thee 'ere t' morrow neet, then 'bout six.  There's security guards
patrolling at night, but they dunt show 'till eight" Without another word
he climbed into the Trannie and drove off.  Steve found his way back to the
lorry, tingling with excitement, and threw his hard hat on the passenger
seat.  It wasn't until he climbed back into the cab that he realised he'd
completely forgotten about his sodding mobile 'phone he'd gone back for in
the first place.

Part Two "Builders Bum"

Steve finally got his 'phone back after a second trip to the offices, got
parked up and checked into the hotel.  He sank a couple of pints in the pub
over the road, eagerly anticipating the coming evening with Bill.  He got
turned in almost immediately afterward, save for a quick shower.  Rubbing
soap all over his hairy body made him hope it would soon be Bill's hands
rather than his own doing the same, exploring his skin and every crevice of
his muscular anatomy.  It'd probably turn out to be nothing more than
another quick wank or a blowjob, but Steve wasn't fussed.  He just wanted
to get his hands, or preferably, his mouth on the stocky builder, even if
it was only for five minutes.  Next morning, after a restless night's sleep
and a good breakfast he checked out of the hotel long before dawn and got
the diesel tanks topped up and headed for Newcastle.  He'd skipped his
usual morning wank in anticipation of his session with Bill that night.
Ruth 'phoned at 8am complaining that she couldn't get hold of him the
former afternoon.

"Yeah, I was, erm, busy with something" Steve tried to explain.  Ruth knew
automatically he'd been up to something he didn't want her knowing about.

"Oh yes, what sort of something?  Probably a young attractive hitchhiker
knowing you.  Hope you didn't catch your dick in your flies."  Steve could
feel himself blushing already, even the tips of ears turning red.  Ruth
explained his run for the morning had been sorted out.  He could get his
drivers' sheet printed off at the Newcastle depot.  He loaded up in
Newcastle and spent a long dragging day lugging a refrigerated trailer of
frozen packet food on a multi-drop route around Tyneside.

It rained for the whole morning after dawn, and by the time Steve had
rushed through the day, sweating like a pig to get his trailer off loaded,
he was even dirtier and scruffier than he'd been the day before.  The rain
had left a load of filth clinging to the cab, which somehow managed to get
smeared all over him as he climbed in and out.  Worse of all he, just
couldn't concentrate on the job.  His mind continually drifted to his hopes
for the evening, and nearly caused a couple of accidents.  To keep out the
rain, he'd dug out his waterproof fluorescent orange drivers jacket out of
the cab, and in a moment of absent-mindedness, he'd managed to tear it
after getting the bottom corner caught up the door.  Eventually, he managed
to get done just before two o' clock, and headed back south to Barnsley,
trying not to rush and drive safely.  He was mildly disgusted with himself,
acting like some sort of desperate teenager, but he just couldn't help
himself, He'd been waiting for a fuck all day.  He tried to keep his mind
on the road, but the vibrations of the tractor unit's diesel engine seemed
to seep into his groin giving resulting in an uncomfortable erection on
every ten miles of motorway.

Of course, Steve got back too early, but not early enough to get a shower
some place.  Bill was going to have to take him as he found him, tired and
dirty.  He got parked up in the same lay-by he'd used the night before and
smoked half a dozen cigarettes in the cab as the clock slowly moved
forward.  The rain had stopped, so he shrugged of his waterproof driver's
coat and chucked it onto his sleeping bag in the rear section of the cab.
He was tempted to climb into the back, pull the curtains and have a quick
wank, but somehow felt that it'd be cheating if he did.  As a lorry driver,
he was responsible for making sure that his full load got delivered to the
customer.  He'd decided to apply the same logic, as it were, to the
circumstances.

Eventually he decided to wait the time out in a non descript pub a short
walk down the road from the site's main entrance.  The interior was done
out in a desperately dated 'Olde Worlde' theme, but it was warm and cosy.
He got to the bar, only to receive a superior look from the barman who took
one snooty glance at his dishevelled state and the hard hat under his arm
before pointing to an officious sign informing him "Patrons in Industrial
Attire are required to use the Tap Room".  He did as instructed and saw a
couple of lads from the site in there already, their having knocked off
early.  The place must have been a frequent haunt for the boys on the site.
He bought a pint to settle the slight touch of nerves that always became
before a well-anticipated fuck.  The two builders already there recognised
him vaguely from yesterday as one of the delivery drivers and pulled up a
chair for Steve to join them.  They were the same lads whose arses he'd
admired while they were picking up bricks.  They were both reasonable
looking, around his own age, one blond and burly, the other slightly tubby,
but he carried it off well.  He noticed the blond bloke was still wearing
olive green combats and remembered his firm backside and buttock cleavage
hanging out of them yesterday morning.  Thankfully he hadn't noticed, or
just maybe he had and didn't mind.  In other circumstances Steve might even
have risked a few carefully guarded questions to see if either of them were
prospects for a bit of action, but this time he didn't feel the need.  The
blond guy's hairy forearms reminded him of Bill's and every time he looked
him in the face it brought up a mental image of his three inches of his
arse crack.  As usual, Steve felt the beginnings of an erection pushing
against his flies, thankfully concealed by the table.  After they'd had a
good natured if banal conversation about the building and lorry driving
trades, the lads finished their pints and said their goodbyes, off to their
digs to change and hit the town, looking for girls to "empty their nuts
into."  He could imagine them both with their pastel Ben Sherman shirts and
hair wax on, lagered up and on the pull.  He didn't feel the twinge of
disappointment he would normally when they left, and didn't even bother
with a surreptitious glace at their backsides as they turned.

The brass clock above the bar showed five o' clock and he decided to sod
the drink driving laws in the circumstances and downed another pint, idly
reading the menu and smoking Marlboros until half past.  He called in the
gents to look himself over in the mirror.  With his mucky jeans, check
shirt and yellow high-viz waistcoat, he looked just like any other dirty
lorry driver at the end of the day.  He couldn't believe he was there
preening like a Nancy.  As if Bill would give a toss.  It was just casual
shag for fuck's sake!  He cleared out of the pub, just as a large gang of
lads who had finished for the day barged in noisily.  He checked the artic
was secure on the way back, slipped his hard hat on and walked cautiously
through the site trying not to look suspicious.  He snuck round the back of
the goods inward warehouse to wait, but an acrid sell of stale piss put him
off.  Bill had been right about what the lads used that back wall for.
Looking around shiftily, he walked over to the office block and waited for
Bill by the door they'd left from last night.  By twenty past six he'd
smoked another couple of tabs, it was getting dark and cold and Bill was
nowhere to be seen.  This was probably the bastard's idea of a joke Steve
thought. Teach the bent lorry driver a lesson.  Once he felt a few spots of
rain he decided to stick around another ten minutes then bugger off back to
his cab for good hard wank to ease his mounting frustration.

At six thirty five, even colder and miserable, he heard the clumping of a
pair of heavy work boots nearby.  Bill swaggered round the corner looking
big, mean and horny and Steve inwardly sighed with relief and excitement.

"You twat!" moaned Steve "I've been here for fucking ages.  Thought you
said six."  Bill just laughed his dirty laugh and eyed him up.

"I've 'ad stuff to sort.  Thick Brummy lorry drivers with hard-ons aint top
on me list lad.  I've a fucking schedule to keep.  Any road, I'm 'ere now.
Tha's like a fucking bitch in heat thee, pacing thesen up and down 'ere.
All t' same young 'uns; cant wait two bleedin' minutes to get thesens
fucked."  He was wearing the same scuffed hardhat and dirty clothes as
yesterday but by now looking even grubbier.  One look at his strapping
frame and the thick mat of chest hair curling over the neck of his blue
rugby shirt and showing through a handful of small rips in the battered
fabric turned his anger back to lust.  He hoped he meant what he said about
getting fucked.  He wouldn't say no, especially with his currently itchy
prostate in need of a little attention.  The big foreman told Steve to
follow him round the corner.  Walking behind him gave him a great view of
the muscles of his broad backside shifting under the close fitting cotton
of his blue trousers.  He couldn't resist grabbing a cheek and giving the
warm firm mound a squeeze.  Bill shot him a vicious look.  For a moment,
Steve thought he was going to thump him.

"Keep yer fucking 'ands to yersen 'till we're inside" he growled,
indignant.  He wondered where Bill was taking him as they walked past heaps
of sand and bags of cement and other construction debris in the evening
half-light.  They weren't going where he'd found him with Pete the last
night.

They passed the first block and were heading down the side of a different
office block, with the smell of fresh linseed oil from the glaziers putty
round the new windows wafting through the air.  He then noticed an Iveco
seven-and-a-half ton truck, badly in need of washing, just inside one of
the newest warehouse buildings a couple of hundred yards ahead.  Steve had
started out driving one of those Ford Iveco's.  Nasty gearbox, but
generally they were decent.  The Iveco was inside what was destined to
become a series of loading bays at the back of the warehouse.  They were
just big enough for a couple of vans, or a rigid HGV at a push.  The
concrete floor of the bay, like everywhere else, was piled up with a
variety of building materials and scrap that would need clearing into a
skip later on.  Spare electrical cable, off-cuts of timber and empty paint
tins were in no short supply, and the whole dirty lot was finished off with
a defunct cement mixer next to the wall by the Iveco, waiting for the hire
company to send a repairman.  Bill, as if they were talking purely about
work, and not about to fuck each other, asked about his day.  Steve
stumbled through a resume of the day's drops and driving, desperate to get
the small talk out of the way and get on with the sex.  Bill listened,
grunting his acknowledgements at appropriate intervals and interrupting
with numerous piss takes about his Birmingham accent.  Steve glanced at
Bill's crotch.  Despite his nonchalant attitude, the tasty bulge showed the
beginnings of a hard on behind it.  They walked into the loading area and
Bill used a thick forefinger to stab the rubber button to close the wide
doors.  With plenty of mechanical groaning the metal slatted doors rolled
downward horizontally slowly clattering shut.  Bill ceremoniously switched
the operating key into the 'off' position.

Steve leaned against the Iveco with butterflies in his stomach, waiting
patiently.  He was aching for Bill to start manhandling him as he had Pete,
running his big dirty mitts all over him.  For Steve, nothing could quite
beat a bit of rough treatment dished out by a burly older bloke.
Subconsciously, it was probably the exact sort of thing fifty percent of
squaddies joined the army for.  The frosted Perspex skylights gave enough
illumination without need to switch on the overhead fluorescents that would
have advertised they were there.  Both of stared at each other for a
minute, Bills grey eyes twinkling back at his, silently waiting to see who
would commit them to some fun by making the first move.

Bill simply cupped his groin with his hand and began rubbing himself
slowly, with his usual dirty, stupid looking grin on his unshaven face.

"Don't just fucking stand there lad..." he grunted, "...Strip."  He hadn't
meant that as an optional request, and Steve willingly followed his orders.
He pulled off his boots, hardhat, shirt, and waistcoat, rolled his socks
off and stepped out of his trousers piling them by the Iveco, gingerly
padding on the cold concrete floor, feeling the chill on his bare skin.
Bill stood back, watching Steve stripping off with quiet enjoyment.  Steve
could feel the foreman's eyes roaming appreciatively over his strong
muscled body, and the realisation sent the blood rushing to his groin.
Steve could never remember getting a hard on so quickly in his life.  He
could feel his cock lengthening and stiffening, raising up like a
drawbridge, tenting his plain white boxers, then pressing the fabric
straining outwards against the restriction.  Steve couldn't give a damn; he
was pleased it would show how much he wanted whatever he'd planned for him.
He stood in front of him, in his boxers, his cock starting to poke out of
the fly.  Bill snarled at him.

"Tha might thinks tha's a tough lorry driver, but you're on my site now
son.  So when I say strip I mean it to the buff.  So get them fucking
shorts off now!"  he shouted.  Steve swallowed nervously, but strangely
aroused.  He'd never had another bloke order him about sexually this way
before, like some dumb animal, but he found it a turn on.  Usually he found
himself taking charge, but occasionally enjoyed the reversal of roles.  He
decided to go with the flow, and do exactly as he was told.  He slipped his
fingers under the waistband and, for Bill's benefit, slowly eased his
boxers down his thighs, and stepped free.  His erect cock sprang up,
standing out parallel to the floor from between his legs.  He got one hell
of a feeling standing there, bollock naked and physically aroused in front
of a fully clothed builder.  The sensation of blatant exhibitionism and
powerlessness was exhilarating and heightened by the unusual context.
Standing in an empty garage with an Iveco truck and a horny building site
foreman wasn't exactly your usual shag.

He could hear Bills heavy breathing and he watched him stroke himself.  The
foreman's cock was hard too; it's long outline clearly visible above his
left trouser leg, his hand lovingly stroking its thick outline.

"Get yer arse over 'ere" he barked at Steve, hanging his hard hat over the
edge of the railings leading up a half a dozen concrete steps to an exit
into the warehouse behind him.

"S' okay, no one knows were 'ere and all t' doors are locked" and
emphasised with a jerk of his thumb his shoulder to the door. Looking at
the expression of unadulterated lust in Bill's eyes, he wasn't sure whether
he'd meant the last part as a reassurance or a threat.  Bill slipped off
his yellow safety waistcoat and pulled his company logo blue rugby shirt
over his head as Steve approached.  The foreman had a thick, barrel-chested
body, stocky and muscular through years of work on sites.  The lesser
demands of his position as foreman in recent years had seen a slight layer
of fat develop over his gut, but it gave him a physical maturity Steve
liked.  He was hairy, with a thick curly mat over his broad chest thinning
to a wide dark line running over his belly, spreading as it neared his
groin with after a larger patch circling his umbilicus.  Despite the
smattering of grey on his head, his body hair remained dark brown all over.
His broad powerful shoulders were hairy to match, as were his Popeye
forearms and the backs of his shovel-sized hands.  Both of his thick arms
were tattooed.  An assortment of panthers and leopards climbed from just
above his wrists and up over the sides of his biceps to his shoulders.  The
artistry and detail of the animals was astounding.  He hadn't had those
done locally that were for sure.  Bill noticed his interest.

"Well, I was in the Navy as a lad. We all 'ad 'em done like." he explained
with a faintly self-conscious shrug.  Steve loved them.  They certainly
suited his character and his Navy experiences could explain why he was a
good fuck with blokes.

"Stop fucking gawpin' at 'em.  Start taking me kit off for us." he ordered,
letting go of his crotch and gesturing for Steve to approach.  Steve was
more than happy to obey.

He got on his knees in front of the foreman, standing in his blue work
trousers with his legs slightly apart.  Steve's face was inches from the
twitching bulge in his pants.  He wanted to rub his face against it, be he
kept to his instructions.  He started with his boots.  The steel-toed canal
boats were scuffed with use and caked with pale sandy mud and grime from
the site.  He brushed the mud from the laces of Bill's left boot and untied
the knot, then loosened the bootlaces on the other foot.  He held each one
firm as Bill obligingly stepped out of them to stand in his damp, sweaty
woollen socks.  Steve reached up his trouser leg until his fingers found a
hairy calf, hooked his finger into the top of his sock.  Bill lifted his
feet in turn as he rolled off each sock.  Barefoot, even the tops of his
massive feet and toes showed a thick covering of dark hairs.  He moved on
to the metal buckle of the thick brown leather belt at his waist.  He
managed to keep his hands from steady as they found the buckle, although
his cock was twitching between his legs with eager need.  He unfastened the
buckle and eased the rough leather strap free.  Bill didn't give any hint
that he wanted him to rush.

"Pull us belt out of the loops lad.  Tha'll see why soon enough."  Steve
glanced up to see Bill looking down at him with an expression of malevolent
desire creasing his face looking down greedily at Steve's body and erect
cock.  Steve did as he was told, dropped the heavy belt and then unfastened
his waistband, and slowly pulled down his flies, the cock behind brushing
against the back of his hand.  He gave a gentle tug at the ankles to pull
his trousers down past his groin. They fell the rest of the way under their
own weight.  Bill stepped out and kicked them aside with a sweep of his
large foot, his sweat leaving a dark imprint on the cool dusty concrete.
Only his underpants to go now thought Steve.  He was wearing another pair
of striped briefs, pushed out by the strength of his large erection, dark
tufts of pubic hair bristling around the top and edges of the bulging
pouch.  At least they were fresh on from last night.  Steve pulled the
waistband out to loosen their hold on his mighty cock, and pulled them
down, letting his hands brush firmly down the furry insides of his tree
trunk thighs.

Bill kicked them off and stood there quietly, breathing heavily, as butt
naked and excited as Steve.  The foreman's cock was magnificent. Unlike the
former evening Steve had the time admire it properly, just in front of his
face.  The foreman's prick was standing at forty-five degrees, ruler
straight and at least eight inches long with a good fat even thickness the
full length. Several bulging veins ran down the length of the shaft.  The
thick foreskin was still covering his helmet. His bollocks were equally
heavy-duty, big, round hairy, and perfectly formed, drawn against his
smelly crotch by the taut wrinkled skin of his scrotum.  The thin line of
hair over his belly joined with a thick, curly bush of pubic hair above his
cock.  From beneath him, Steve could smell him strongly now and he took a
deep sniff into his nostrils taking in his sweaty odour, sharpened with the
subtle musky smell of his arousal.  He looked up at the foreman's hairy,
sweaty armpits, wishing he could bury his face in them for a good sniff.

Instead, he pushed his mighty cock toward Steve's mouth.

"Go on then lad, lick it for us" he ordered.  Steve eagerly licked the
enclosed helmet, tasting its unwashed saltiness, before probing his
foreskin and rubbing his tongue underneath it, feeling the heat of him and
enjoying his taste.  He pushed back his thick rubbery foreskin with his
lips forcing a soft moan from Bill.  The head of his cock was pink smooth
and hard, a perfect strawberry shape.  Steve flickered his tongue against
the head and poked into the wide slot at the tip.  Bills legs trembled
slightly, and he groaned loudly,

"Another fucking tease" he moaned.  "Come on son, get that trucker's mouth
workin."  Steve kept rubbing his tongue over his cock head as he reached
between his legs and rubbed his large hairy balls enthusiastically, feeling
their weight, grasping them for an occasional squeeze.  Bill spread his
legs slightly to give him better access.  He started to slip his length
into his mouth, sucking and licking to lubricate him with spit.  With half
his thick, tasty length in him, he felt the tip hit the back of his throat.

"Take it all in tha little bugger" Bill ordered.  Steve had only deep
throated once before and hadn't relished the experience, but would happily
oblige for Bill.

He relaxed his throat, bent his head back to straighten the passage, held
his breath and started to ease him down his gullet.

"Get it down tha!" said Bill with relish and grabbed Steve's ears and
started pushing himself in, enjoying the pleasure of Steve's mouth.  Steve
gagged but kept cool as the thick cock rasped into his throat. Bill used
his ears to pull him down until his face was pressed firmly against his
crotch, his nose into his coarse thick pubes, the hairs tickling his face
and his bollocks pressing against his chin.  Steve enjoyed the taste and
smell of him so close, his vision obscured by a dark mat of pubic hair.
The foreman drew his hips back and began to take a few shallow thrusts,
grunting, and ramming himself into the tight wet sucking mouth at his
groin.  Steve began to asphyxiate, as the choking length slid repeatedly
down his oesophagus, but held steady.  Bill held him there for a few more
seconds to maximise his discomfort before abruptly pulling his full length
out.  He pushed Steve back leering down at him with an evil satisfaction in
his expression.  Steve was gently stroking his own cock, coughing a little
and sucking the air back into his lungs.  Bill roughly kicked his hand
away.

"Stop fucking wanking.  Tha's not gettin' owt tell I let thee" Steve did
so.  He was enjoying Bill's ordering him around, the uncertainty of what he
was going to do next getting him even more turned on.

"Open yer gob again" he barked.  He grabbed his cock, now wet with spit,
holding it up to expose his large sweaty balls.  He spread his legs wider
apart and shuffled closer, pressing his huge testicles to Steve's mouth.

"You can give these bollocks a good suck, lad" he barked.  Steve opened his
mouth and sucked in one salty plum, slipped it out, then sucked the other.
He opened wide, and using his tongue to guide them, sucked both of his
smelly bollocks in, filling his mouth, his hot cock pressing across his
face.  He sucked as hard as he could, rolling his hairy balls around his
mouth with his tongue.  Bill moaned with pleasure, and let him continue a
moment longer before pushing his face away again, releasing his knackers
from his sucking grip.  Steve could felt their weight bounce over his
bottom lip as Bill withdrew.



Steve glanced up at the heavily aroused foreman, waiting for his next
instruction, keeping his hand from his cock as ordered.  He was aching to
stroke himself, to satisfy the mounting urgency between his legs.  Bill
looked down at him contemptuously and carefully spat a big gritty gob of
spit into Steve's face.  He flinched with surprise and hastily wiped the
spit from his eye, when Bill gave him a sharp kick between his open legs.
The top of his hairy foot slapped firmly into his balls, not hard enough to
cause any real pain, but he jumped with surprise and discomfort.  Steve was
beginning to wonder if this had been such good idea.  With the foreman's
size, weight and temper he'd probably be the winner if things turned nasty.
And they were locked in, alone.

"Don't fucking do owt unless I say, tha little cock sucking bastard!" he
shouted.  "Leave that spit where it is!"

"Now get on with it," he snarled, grabbing his face in his shovel fist and
squeezing his cheeks to open his mouth.  Bill thrust his massive cock
toward Steve's mouth again, still rock hard, and wet, the slit at the tip
now glistening with oozing pre cum.  Steve opened wide, and Bill none too
gently thrust his prick into his mouth.  Steve clamped his mouth over the
long smooth shaft and started to suck, lapping his tongue over the
foreman's cock head tasting the dribbling fluids.  He found his balls with
his hands and squeezed as he sucked.

"Squeeze those balls harder!" groaned Bill growling with pained
appreciation as Steve complied, compressing his nuts in his fist, as hard
as he dared without doing him damage.  He sucked hard, slipping his cock
back and forth, building rhythm, letting him thrust his cock head
mercilessly against the back of his abused throat.  He felt Bill's rough
hands against the back of his head, eagerly pushing him down onto his thick
spike.  Steve reached around to grab his hairy arse and hung on for the
ride.  His buttocks were meaty, but firm, and thickly covered with plenty
of short curly hair.  His fingers sneaked gently into his hairy crack, and
his fingertips played the length of the damp furry furrow as he sucked him.

Bill began to sweat, and his grunting was getting louder and deeper, as
Steve's frantically working tongue and bobbing head brought him near to
climax.

"Suck my fucking cock!" he growled, pulling eagerly at his ears to speed
him up.  Steve could sense and feel the muscles in Bill's body begin to
tense as his climax quickly approached

"Suck my fucking dick tha worthless little Brummy cunt," he continued, the
first tremors of his orgasm starting.

"Oh yeah! Oh fuck!" he cried, shudders pulsing through him.  Steve could
sense the explosion that was coming, and sucked the foreman harder; his
tongue licking the throbbing shaft as he quickly slipped his mouth up and
down its length.  Bill's erection seemed even stiffer and longer, his
bollocks drawn in tight between his legs.  Bill stopped thrusting into his
mouth, and stood rigidly still, as Steve continued to suck, his mouth tight
on his cock, sliding his head rapidly back and forth.  Bill was grunting
and snorting like a bull before he let out a loud animal bellow,
"Hurghhhh!" he groaned, as he came.  Steve felt him ejaculating, his balls
pumping out their load into his mouth, several thick slimy globs of semen
spurting from his cock.  Steve, still grasping the cheeks of the foreman's
hairy arse, made sure his lips were sealed tight around his spurting cock,
not wanting a drop to escape.  The foreman had plenty of sperm in his balls
and achieved several powerful copious spurts before slowing to a few final
trickles.  Steve's mouth was full of his spunk.  With a last groan, Bill
relaxed and pushed Steve back, looking down on him with a nasty sneer.
Steve reluctantly let his softening shaft slip from his semen-laden mouth
with a final slurp.

"Swallow it!" Bill barked, gasped out between ragged breaths.  Steve
swilled the mess around his mouth.  He could smell it, and savoured the
salty sweet flavour.  He swallowed hard, and the whole lot ran down his
gullet.

Steve leaned back; his knees dirty and hurting like hell from a prolonged
stay on the hard concrete floor, his mouth full of the taste of a builder's
spunk.  He looked up at Bill again who was looking down at him, red in the
face and still panting.  He was still on his knees, inches from the
foreman's groin, and caught a strong whiff of him, a powerful mixture of
fresh sweat and fresh semen.  Steve's cock was throbbing with excitement,
and was desperate for Bill to let him touch it.  Bill seemed to sense his
need and grinned at him evilly.

"Tha fuckin' loves it dunt tha?" he asked, "Fucking loves tha taste o' a
man's mess!" Steve nodded.

"Like the taste of my cock does tha?"  Bill's big fist closed around his
soft thick wet shaft, displaying it casually for Steve's benefit.  Steve
licked the last of the foreman's' gunge off his lips, nodding like an
idiot, too excited to speak.

Bill spat abruptly into Steve face again.

"Dirty fucking bastard!" he sneered, giving him heavy handed slap to the
side of his head.  Steve jumped with pain, his ear stinging.  Bill ignored
him and trudged over to pick up his belt.

"Right then, tha thick little Brummy prick," Bill, announced.

"Tha's had taste o' the cock, time for a taste t' strap!"  He flexed his
thick leather belt between his fists, snapping it taught between his
outstretched arms, the thick muscles of his hairy tattooed arms and barrel
chest bulging.

"Bit o' this is wot most of you young uns' need these days" Steve shuffled
to ease the pressure on his knees, with a genuine fear chewing at him.
He'd always got a kick from a being on the receiving end of a bit of rough
treatment, but he'd no idea how far this bastard was going to go.  They
were no rules here, and he could end up flayed alive.  Bill gave him no
opportunity to back out.

"Stand up tha little bastard" he ordered, the twinkle in his eyes showing
lust and malice.

"Lean up against t' wagon" Steve obeyed, his heart pounding, leaning
against the Iveco with his hands bracing himself at shoulder level, feeling
the cold dirty painted metal beneath his palms.  He glanced over his
shoulder and watched Bill approach out of the corner of his eye, swaggering
over naked with his cock wobbling. Steve had to confess the foreman looked
bloody good without his clothes, big strong and hairy.  Even soft his cock
and balls looked big, gently swinging between his legs.  He was also
swinging the thick leather belt.  He stood close to Steve and he felt his
hot breath against his shoulders, before he stroked his big rough hand over
Steve's firm buttocks, sand paper palms rubbing the shape of the cheeks,
and brushing along the crack.  "Nice arse" Bill muttered.  The foreman then
reached in front of him and teasingly stroked his fingers down the length
of his rock hard cock.  Steve moaned with the pleasure of the touch of his
calloused hand, aching for release, for Bill to wank him, but he wasn't
going to entertain him yet.  "Nice big cock 'n' all lad" Bill commented.
"Bet tha's 'ad that up a few places tha shouldn't, eh?"

"Erm, yeah, I have Billy..." Steve admitted, to be rewarded by another
sharp crack around his ears.

"It's Mister Wilson to you, you stupid cunt!" Bill cautioned.

"Hands behind yer back!" he commanded.  Steve, pushed himself upright, and
did as complied.  He felt Bill grab his wrists and began to tightly tie his
hands behind his back with a surplus length of electrical cable.  Again,
Steve complied but with more than a little trepidation about the foreman's
intentions.  He didn't mind a bit of slap and tickle, but he didn't want
anything too heavy either.  As Bill knotted the flex, securing him, Steve
felt even more vulnerable and powerless, his hard cock felt particularly
exposed, sticking out in front of him.  Tied up, he'd have no choice.  He'd
have to give in to anything this bloke wanted, his cock involuntarily
twitching at the thought.

Once he'd finishing trussing him up, Bill opened the back doors of the
truck and pushed Steve toward the cargo bay of the Iveco, roughly shoving
the back of his head forward.  His thighs caught against the grimy bumper
of the truck, and the momentum of his head and torso forced him to bend
over.  The truck's load bay floor was exactly at waist height, leaving his
chest pressed flat to the filthy floor, with his bare arse sticking out the
back of the lorry.  Bill reached over his back, and pushed his face against
the filthy steel floor, rubbing it into the grime, chuckling to himself.
The back of the truck was empty apart from a toolbox full of oily spanners,
and spare pair of Bill's steel toed wellies with the metal showing through
the rubbed toecaps.  Abruptly, he felt the foreman's hand rub the cheeks of
his exposed backside again, before he slipped a thick finger into his
crack.  Gently at first, then with increasing pressure, he prodded at his
arsehole, pushing at the sphincter before he slipped his thick digit in up
to his hairy knuckle.  Steve grunted with the sudden sharp pain of this
rough intrusion, feeling the finger slip out, then hard in again, twisting
inside him, finding his prostate making Steve let out a guilty moan of
pleasure.

"Loves it dunt tha, dirty little cunt.  Gagging for it up yer arse int
thee?" Steve didn't bother to answer the obvious.  He'd been hoping that
the foreman wanted to fuck him all day.  He couldn't wait to feel what it'd
be like to take his dick deep inside him.

"Aye, that's what tha wants.  A big hard cock right up yer arsehole.  A
bloody good fuck 'd soon sort thee out.  Not yet though, tha'll have to
earn theesen a fuck off me!"  The finger suddenly pulled out and the buckle
end of the belt slammed down with a clang next to his face, and he heard
Bill behind him,

"Does tha want some of this first then?" he asked.  Steve nodded his
agreement, knowing that he was going to get this anyway, whatever he said.
Bill gave a pleased grunt.

"Tha'll know tha place by time I've finished with thee, lad.  In fact I'll
whip the fucking arse off thee!" Steve stayed quiet, hoping that this
wasn't going to turn out nasty.  He didn't fancy driving back to Birmingham
with his behind cut to bloody shreds.

"Start counting 'em out then!" Bill told him, positioning himself at
Steve's side, gripping the buckle end of his belt, and readying the strap
for Steve's rear.

"One!"  The first stroke caught him unexpectedly over his shoulders.  He
felt the impact then a hot stripe of pain.

"Two!"  Another stinging stripe slapped over his shoulders, before the next
two Bill planted over his back raising a pair of searing red welts.

 "Five!" Steve gasped, and at last the tingling anticipation in his
buttocks was satisfied.  Bill lashed a brutal stroke over Steve's arse, the
rough leather searing across both cheeks with a loud crack. "Christ!" Steve
moaned through gritted teeth wriggling on the dirty truck floor as he felt
the burning sensation spread.  He felt a gob of spit hit the back of his
head.  "Shut the fuck up!" sneered Bill.

"Six!" another powerful strapping over his arse, a little higher, raising a
beauty of a welt over his hot, burning cheeks, The next was the same, but
lower, just up from the top of his thighs.  Bill shifted as Steve counted
out loud, moving over a little and landed the next one on his left cheek
only.  The pain of the whipping was starting to mount, and Steve gritted
his teeth tighter.  Hot, burning pain was spreading over his backside,
increasing with each searing stroke, but in spite of it he found the
flogging getting him more turned on.

"Eight!" Steve called, and a few slowly waited moments later the belt stung
his right buttock cheek.  With a practised flick, Bill brought the belt
down alternatively on each cheek, until he had delivered four on each.
Steve was writhing with pain, the flex digging into his bound wrists, with
his backside feeling as if hot irons were being held against it.  He tried
to absorb the strokes, but each blow forced a pained jerk from his tense
body as the burning pain grew, the belt now starting to fall agonisingly
over already strapped flesh.

 "Fourteen" he gasped, his arse on fire, tears in his eyes, but still
enjoying it, being used and controlled by this powerful hairy brute.  This
stroke was deliberately planted so the belt went straight along the crack
of his arse, stinging the sensitive furrow of his buttocks.  Steve screamed
out loud with this exquisite new burning pain.  He'd begun to sweat, and
was sliding over the floor of the van.

"Keep fucking still and take it like a man!" Bill snorted with disgust,
planting another vicious stroke into his crack.

"And keep fucking countin' or tha'll get even more!" Bill warned.

"Sixteen" Steve groaned, and took another burning stripe in the same spot.
He was starting to seriously worry how long this would go on, but didn't
want it to stop.  The pain had heightened his arousal, and the last stroke
of the belt nearly made him shoot his load.

"Seventeen" The next blow had all the considerable strength behind it the
foreman could muster, slowly building up the strapping he was dishing out.
The belt was now digging deep into well-whipped flesh, nearly making Steve
scream with hot pain.

"Eighteen" another well aimed lash across both cheeks.  Steve could here
the foreman grunting with exertion now; the bastard was certainly intent on
dishing out a good belting.

"Nineteen" Steve gasped, the pleasure beginning to feel more like torture.
He was getting frightened now.  He wasn't going to enjoy this for very much
longer, and with Bill's strength, he could probably keep the belting up for
hours with Steve incapable of doing anything about it.

"Twenty" There was a moment's pause before this one came.  Bill brought the
strap down over Steve's arse harder than he'd managed yet, a pistol like
crack that vibrated the walls of the Iveco.  This one really hurt.  It felt
like a brand pressed against his backside, almost splitting the skin of his
abused arse.  Steve shuddered and wriggled, desperate for the fiery pain in
his belted behind to subside.

"That'll do fer now.  Tha wont be forgettin' that in no hurry.  Just you
remember who's the fucking boss on this site, or I'll squash yer balls with
me bare hands!" he heard Bill say.  A true expert.  He knew when to
stop. He hadn't drawn blood or anything; bit Steve had just about had all
he wanted.  Steve sighed with relief and appreciation, as Bill left him for
a couple of minutes until the burning sensation over his whipped behind
subsided to a stinging throb. Bill spent a moment admiring the angry red
welts he'd raised across Steve's arse with his belt, then gave Steve a hard
slap on his sore backside setting off another hot stinging pain.

The foreman grabbed him by the left ear, like some misbehaved schoolboy and
pulled him upright, deliberately making sure Steve banged his head on the
door of the Iveco.  Steve rubbed some relief into his sore arse with his
hands, still behind his back with the tight flex cutting in.  The foreman
dropped his belt, the buckle giving a dull clang as it hit the concrete and
stood, in front of Steve, bollock naked, with his legs apart, grinning with
smug satisfaction, looking down his nose at Steve.  "That's your lazy
truckers' arse sorted."  His exertion from the belting had got him
sweating, coating his chest, face and shoulders with a fine wet sheen.
Steve enjoyed the smell of him, standing so close, reeking of a hard days
work and sex.  A glance at his crotch confirmed what Steve expected.  The
foreman had got as big a kick from giving Steve a flogging as he'd got from
receiving it.  His juicy cock had started harden again, lengthened and
damp, wobbling at half-mast between his thighs.

Bill reached for Steve's throbbing shaft and casually stroked him, his
calloused palm scraping the sensitive skin.  Steve moaned loudly, the
sudden stimulation spreading through his loins and his sore arse.  Bill
began to wank him gently, just using the tips of fingers, making Steve
silently hope for him to take a firm grip and get stuck in, to let him
come.  Bill didn't of course; he just stopped abruptly, as soon as he
figured that Steve was beginning to enjoy himself.

"Yer a dirty fucker lad!" he exclaimed.  "Like that does tha?"  Before he
could respond Bill grabbed him tightly by the throat and began to squeeze.
With his hands tied behind his back, and the bumper of the Iveco wedging
him in place, there was nothing he could do.  He started to choke as Bill
increased the pressure.

"I aint finished we thee yet" warned Bill, scowling at him viciously, "Fact
we've only just got started.  Tha's not nearly learned tha place yet."
Bill used his crushing grip to slowly force Steve down to his knees.  He
slipped the last few inches as his legs slipped beneath him, his bare knees
cracking painfully onto the concrete floor.

"I've sorted out your arse son, now you can sort out mine!"  Steve wondered
what he was on about.  He couldn't whip him back with his hands tied, but
he soon made it clear.  Bill released his grip on Steve's neck, turned
around and shoved his large hairy backside against Steve's face, shouting
down to him, over his shoulder, "Get fucking licking!"

If this was the next humiliation Bill had for him, he didn't mind.  Bill
had a great arse.  Pretty firm and well shaped for a bloke of his age.  He
was definitely a hands on sort of foreman, and who hadn't spent much time
sitting on the furry pair of peaches now filling Steve's view.  He started
licking, rubbing his tongue over the surface his hairy, muscular cheeks,
lapping away the fine film of salty sweat.  He covered the entire surface
of his left cheek, before continuing over to the right, lapping like a cat
at a bowl of milk, pausing briefly to quietly spit a few hairs off his
tongue.  Bill's head twisted over his shoulder again,

"Come on lad, get tha tongue right up t'crack!" he commanded.  Steve
complied, running his tongue down the hairy furrow splitting his cheeks,
flinching slightly from a deep musky smell as he worked down towards his
hole.  Bill reached behind himself and gently parted his buttocks with his
hands to give Steve better access.  Steve pushed his nose into the furrow,
and poked his tongue in deep.  He couldn't see, with his face pressed into
the foreman's arse, but soon found his arsehole with tip of his tongue.
Holding his breath, he took a few licks and prodded gently at the foreman's
anus, bringing a grunt of pleasure from above.  Bill stopped holding his
cheeks apart, so they pressed back together trapping Steve's probing tongue
in the hairy crack.  Steve continued to lick and wriggle his tongue in the
fleshy crevice.  Steve sensed Bills hands were round the front of him now,
and Steve realised he was rubbing himself.  The realisation he was probably
wanking increased Steve's urge to come.  Bill let him continue a moment
longer, then stepped away.  "Fucking arse licker!" he joked.

He turned round again, and the now familiar sight of Bill's crotch greeted
Steve at his eye level.  His attentions had taken effect on the bloke, as
he was now sporting another full erection, as thick, long and erect as
before, sticking up beneath his hairy belly.  Bill nodded downward,
gesturing toward his erect cock.

"Tha want some more o' this then,'" he asked, grasping the shaft to
emphasis what was on offer.

"Yeah" responded Steve without a pause.  Bill frowned at him, and he
realised that wasn't good enough.  Bill gave him another sharp kick in the
crotch, his ankle slapping against Steve's erection, before bouncing into
his swollen balls, bringing a choked grunt

"Tha can ask better than that, if tha wants me to get me fucking cock dirty
on the likes of thee!  Tha'd better start beggin' for it afore I decide to
start kicking yer fucking bollocks in!"  Steve swallowed nervously, He
couldn't figure out whether the foreman's brutal attitude was all part of
the sex or whether it was just his true nature coming out.  He was in no
position to refuse him anything, and the uncertainty was a still a turn on
all of it's own.  He resolved to keep doing exactly as he was told, whether
he liked it or not, until Bill was through with him.

He began to plead with him as instructed.

"Please Billy..." another vicious crack landed on his head, "Sorry, I mean
Mister Wilson... Fuck me.  Please, use that big hard cock on me.  I want
it, I want to feel it right up my arse, emptying into me, Please Mister
Wilson, stick it into me..." Steve continued in the same vein for a couple
of minutes.  Bill stood poised, with cock twitching inches from his face,
and his right foot positioned between Steve's thighs, ready to enact his
threat if he wasn't satisfied, standing over him, gloating and aroused by
Steve's submission to his instructions.  Bill was slowly rubbing his cock
in his big grubby hand, getting himself as hard as a steel tube.  Steve
couldn't resist.  That thick juicy prick in front of him was just too much
to leave alone.  He leaned forward and gave the fat cock head an uninvited
lick.

Bill moved back, startled, and then his temper blew.

"Fucking bastard!" he shouted, "Don't tha listen?  I fucking told tha not
to do owt unless I told thee!"  In one move, Bill grabbed Steve by the
throat again, and dragged him up to his feet, his large biceps bulging.
The moment he was upright, he balled his big fist and drove it into Steve
belly.  Steve coughed and retched with the blow, the wind knocked out of
him and would have sank to his knees hadn't in been for the throttling vice
like grip round his neck holding him up.  Bill drew his fist back again,
and smashed another carefully aimed blow into Steve's kidney, that had him
wincing with the ache that sparked deep inside him.  Steve struggled to
stay on his feet, suddenly thinking that the whole thing was one hell of a
mistake, letting himself get locked in and trussed up with a tough builder
who'd turned out to be a psycho.  Bill seemed to have cooled down a little
though.

 "Come on dick head, keep on yer feet" he heard him say.  He stood straight
and tried to ignore his aching guts.  Bill released his strangle hold so
Steve could gasp in a bit of air.  The foreman was giving him a funny look,
and with his hands still balled into fists.

"Keep yer head still lad!" he cautioned.  Too late, Steve realised what was
coming.  Bill drew his fist back and landed a solid punch straight into
Steve's face, grazing his nose and slamming into his eye socket.  A second
punch soon followed, catching him on the chin, bruising his jaw.

Grinning malevolently, Bill, held by the shoulders, to steady him, kicked
his legs apart and brought his knee up sharply into Steve's balls.  Steve
whined with pain, his erection rapidly deflating, pleading with him,

"Ow, shit Billy, stop, not so fucking hard mate!"  Bill looked sheepishly
back at him.  "Don't be fucking soft son," he growled, "I thought tha liked
it rough.  You reckon to be a tough lorry driver and all that.  I didn't
hit thee that hard.  If tha's not man enough to take it that can fuck off.
Otherwise shut up and keep begging!"

Bill brought his hand up between his legs, instead of his knee this time,
and, by way of apology, stroked gently, soon getting him stiff again and
provided a pretty good incentive to stick it out.  Steve closed his eyes
enjoying Bill's gentle stroking as he wanked him a little and picked up
where he had left off,

"Please Mister Wilson, give me a fuck.  Surely I've earned a bit more cock
by now?"

Bill gave him a glare that could have melted lead.  He let Steve's cock go
and began to rub his own again, He was incredibly hard by now, his cock
seemingly longer, thicker still, the tip oozing precum, dripping over
Bill's thick fingers.  His rubbing smeared it down the full length of his
mighty cock.

"Just like I said innit lad?  This is what tha wants."  He gestured towards
his groin again, eyeing Steve coldly.

"You cant fuckin' wait to take it up the arse can tha?  This is what tha
wants all right, every fucking inch of it right up yer arse."  Bill stopped
wanking.

"All right then lad, tha's going to get the shafting of tha life." he
announced, and pushed him round to face into the load bay of the lorry
again.

"Bend over" he commanded gruffly, and pushed Steve forward.  Steve leaned
over the truck's back bumper again, leaving his backside sticking up in the
air in front of Bill, ready for a ploughing.  He may not have put it
gently, but he was right.  He couldn't wait to feel the foreman up him,
fucking him, a big hairy brute ramming himself up his backside.  Steve's
cock was aching for relief as much as his arse was aching for a shafting.
His position, face down on the floor, with the sensitive tip of his cock
brushing the bumper of the van didn't help.  Each movement he made rubbed
it against the cold metal, increasing Steve's desperate urge to come.

He felt Bill's rough hands rubbing his sore whipped buttocks, tracing the
lines left by the belt.  "Fucking good belting I gave thee lad.  Still, if
tha thinks tha's got a sore arse know, just wait till I've fucked thee."
He felt the shovel hands grab his hot reddened cheeks and part them as Bill
churned his mouth and spat a well-aimed gob into the crack of his arse.
Steve obligingly spread his legs a little to improve access.  Bill rubbed
the gob down into his crack, and soon he felt his rough fingers slickly
smearing spit around his tight pink arsehole.  Bill spat again, and wiped
on more lubricating saliva.  He wiped his fingers over the hinges of the
truck doors to collect a little more grease and oil, and smeared this over
Steve's arsehole too.

"That's thee slicked up proper.  Now keep yer fucking gob shut and take
this like a man."

Bill grabbed a firm hold onto Steve's hips and he felt his big hairy thighs
appear between his own, pushing them further apart.  Then he felt his fat,
blunt cock head slipping in between his buttocks, pressing firmly against
his lubricated arsehole, seeking its way in.  The foreman began to increase
the pressure, pushing forward, until Steve's tight anus eventually began to
open.  Steve gasped with the pain of the intrusion, feeling Bill's thick
cock head stretching his arsehole wide apart as it was forced roughly in.
With a grunt Bill prodded in another inch. Steve hoped Bill knew what he
was doing.  He'd never had anyone as big as him up his arse before, and
with the size of him he'd split him open if was just going to start
shafting him.  He needn't have worried.  Bill had evidently done this
before, and showed a surprising consideration for his partner.  He held on
for a couple of minutes, just holding still with only the first inch inside
as Steve gasped and wriggled, trying to relax to enable him to take it.
The almost unbearable discomfort soon began to fade as Steve's arse became
accustomed to the foreman's cock up it and he slackened up a little.  Bill
felt the resistance easing, and was eager to get underway.

"You ready?" he asked in a gruff, breathy voice.  Steve nodded for him to
proceed, and was rewarded with an earnest "Good lad!" and a firm slap on
his sore arse.  Steve gritted his teeth as Bill then started to slowly
force the full length of his erection up his behind.  Steve stifled a
whimper as the long fat prick was rammed in, churning his guts, keeping him
twitching with discomfort.  Bill found a few tight spots as he inched in,
and Steve wriggled his back end to help him up.  Bill eventually forced the
full length of his cock in, groaning loudly with the tight pleasure of
Steve's hole until Steve could feel his pubes and bollocks pressing against
the outside of his arse.  He felt well and truly impaled with Bill's mighty
spike, stimulating his prostate and sending shudders through his lower
body.  He couldn't believe had managed to take him all, feeling the massive
shaft all the way up inside him, through his guts and moaned as Bill slowly
began to slide out.  Half way out the foreman spat over his cock again and
started slipping his thick piece back in.  Steve was finally beginning to
relax, making Bill's entry easier this time.  Bill started to fuck him,
slipping in and out, his arse slackening more as he took him each time.  He
listened to Bill's heavy breathing and grunts, a sense of pleasure started
to fill him as Bill's cock suddenly began to slip in and out with ease.
Soon he was groaning with the sensations each time the foreman roughly
pushed himself in, holding Steve by the hips to keep his arse steady.  He
could feel him banging deep into him, stretching him, repeatedly sticking
his backside with his long prick.

"This is what you like innit son?" he grunted at Steve. "Fucking love it
dunt thee?" he panted, while slipping up him.

"This is what tha wants, a hard builder's cock up yer lorry driver's arse,
in all the way to the bollocks."  He pushed in particularly deep that time
to emphasise his point.  Steve could feel flecks of Bills spit spray on his
back as he spoke, warm wet breath on the back of his neck as he fucked him.

With plenty of grunting, Bill slowly began to slip in and out quicker,
pulling out further before pushing in again.  Steve felt him build up a
steady rhythm, sliding in and out, groaning contentedly as he stretched his
arse further, pounding into his hole.

"How's it feel then lad?  Like it does tha?  Like being buggered by a real
man then?"  Steve could only nod as he got fucked.  "Yeah, course tha does.
Nowt like a good hard fuck is there, eh?  Nowt like a good hard length o'
cock up yer arse!"  He was still speeding his sliding up, when he grabbed
him by the shoulders with his big hairy mitts, pressing him against the
floor of the Iveco.  Then he began to thrust in earnest, pulling back and
brutally ramming his big thick length in.  Soon he was thrusting and
grunting like some farmyard animal, relishing Steve's warm hole.  After a
couple of minutes of thrusting Steve's arsehole felt like it was near to
splitting, sore and stinging like hell, with the slick friction up his rear
end.  The foreman continued shafting his hole, but he was still enjoying
his big cock churning his guts.

"How's tha like this then son?" Bill asked, thrusting harder and deeper
still.  "Nowt beats a buggering off a real bloke, eh? A genuine bit of
working class rough roaring up yer arsehole!"  Steve couldn't find the
words to agree, he could only grit his teeth with pleasure and discomfort
enjoying every minute of being shagged by him.

The foreman's thrusts were still speeding up, hard and deep, his powerful
hairy body slapping against him, pushing him against the Iveco with each
brutal shove into his backside, still keeping a firm hold onto Steve's
shoulders.  Steve loved the feel of Bill close to him, the heat and feel of
his sweaty body and the sound of his breathing, the movement of his hairy
thighs inside his own.  He felt Bill tensing up, and his ploughing thrusts
becoming faster and rougher, his belly and large spunk laden balls slapping
against him each time.  The foreman was puffing and groaning as his thick
cock repeatedly penetrated Steve's arse, the tight tunnel rapidly bringing
on his climax.

 "Come on son, tell us how good it is," he asked, with a hard thrust
punctuating each panted syllable

"Bloody good", Steve gasped, the cock still pounding into him.  "You're the
best fuck have had off a builder".  Bill gave a scornful grunt and stuck in
his cock again.

"You fucking worthless tight arsed Brummy pig!" he replied.  "Show us what
tha's made of.  See how hard tha can take it tha useless cunt!"  Steve's
body was tingling with the ache of the whipping and the hot tight friction
up his arse.  The flex still holding his hands behind his back was chafing
his flesh.  He held still as Bill's thrusting got harder yet, more brutal
and urgent, his hips jolting forward to push in as deep as he could.  Steve
could sense he was trying to hold back, but a few more thrusts sent him
over the edge.  As his climax became inevitable and his sweating body began
to tense, he gave his all, buggering Steve as hard as he could with his
cock thrusting deep.

"Oh Fuck!" cried Bill as his felt his orgasm begin.  "Oh fucking bloody
hell!" he cursed with several hard, stabbing thrusts as he came, bellowing
loudly and firing several spurts of hot spunk deep up Steve's arse,
squirting his muck into his guts.  Steve felt his shuddering sweating body
against him as he ejaculated and felt his cock throbbing and pulsating deep
inside him, felt his semen running into his arse.  He slowly stopped
thrusting and held it in as he let the last drops spill out.  Bill finally
relaxed, still in up to his balls, puffing and gasping for air.  Slowly he
got his breath back, still holding onto Steve as his cock began to shrink,
deflating up Steve ravaged arse.  With a final moan he pulled out, bringing
a yelp of disappointment from Steve as felt the prick that had been filling
him disappear.

"Well that's thee fucked good and proper!" Bill concluded cheerfully,
giving Steve's shafted arse a good hard whack with his hand.

He pulled Steve up to his feet.  Steve struggled up, standing bowlegged and
sore, His backside felt like a windsock, and he felt a little of Bills
slimy semen ooze out to run down the inside of his thighs.  He'd enjoyed
it, despite feeling as if a donkey had buggered him.  Bill picked up
Steve's white boxers from the floor and wiped his cock clean on them,
taking time to roll back his foreskin and wipe beneath the rim.  He screwed
them up and chucked them back on the floor.

"Did tha like that then?" asked Bill, dripping with sweat; his face glowing
a healthy cherry red.  Steve glanced at his moist softening cock.

"Yes Mister Wilson, I did!" he admitted.

Bill chuckled and grasped hold of Steve's shaft.  Never in his life had he
had such an erection.  He was harder and longer than he'd ever been,
pointing steeply upwards, with pearls of semen forming at his cock head.
He was aching to come.  It felt like he'd been waiting for hours for
release and hoped to hell Bill was going finish with tossing him off as
he'd done with Pete.  He knew he wasn't going to last much longer before he
shot his wad regardless.  The foreman surprised him.  Bill pushed him round
and yanked the electrical flex free from his wrists.  He gave Steve a funny
look as he rubbed the circulation back into his hands.  He furrowed his
brows as if making some well-considered decision then pushed Steve aside
and promptly bent over the bumper, holding himself up with his muscular
arms and spread his thick hairy thighs wide.

"Well go on then!" he said, loud, deep, and angry.  "I reckon tha's earned
it tonight.  You wont get a second fucking chance lad, so get on with if
tha wants."  Steve was uncertain for a moment.  This was the best yet, more
than he'd hoped for.  He was gagging to fuck the foreman, but he wondered
if this was just a ploy to give him an excuse to beat him up?

"Come on son" he growled reassuringly, "Show us what tha can do with that
big lorry driver's cock!"  Steve's aching balls made the decision for him
and he stepped into position.  Steve stood between Bill's stout spread
legs, the feeling of his hairy thighs rubbing his legs a he stepped between
them sending a shiver up his spine.

He could hardly believe his luck.  He'd never seen a more inviting site as
he shuffled between Bills spread thighs and looked at his broad hairy arse.
His parted legs spread his cheeks, revealing his small puckered arsehole
winked at Steve from the bottom of the crack.  Looking down at the big
hairy bloke from this position made him feel like he was about to mount a
horse.  The sweating brute was certainly starting to smell like one, which
only aroused Steve more.  Quickly he spat as much as he could into his hand
and smeared it between the large pair of buttocks inviting him in.  He
could see his hefty emptied bollocks swinging between his legs under his
arse.  He found his arsehole with his finger and teased the tufty halo
around it.  The sight was enough to finish him off but he paused to control
his loins, determined to get inside him before he came.  He concentrated on
the bulldog tattooed on Bill's furry shoulder as he watched the end of his
cock slide between those meaty cheeks.  His cock soon found his target and
he pushed against it, grabbing onto the sides of his damp perspiring
cheeks.  His arsehole began to open with the pressure Steve applied.  He
was tight, but he began to give with the spit lubricating entry.  Steve
couldn't hold back much longer, and thrust deep up him, bringing a loud
pained grunt.

"Fucking hell son!" Bill growled through clenched teeth.  Steve paused a
moment, sighing with the pleasure of that hot tight tunnel, gripping every
inch of his prick.

He pulled out sharply and began to fuck him, thrusting rough and deep, the
same way he'd been buggered by the animal he was now shafting back.

"Come on you little Brummy pig!" Bill groaned, between the thrusts poking
into him, "Tha can fuck me harder than that.  Show us what sort of man you
are.  Bugger us like tha means it!"  Steve gave him what he wanted.  Bill
held perfectly still, after shifting his big arse to let Steve in deep.
Steve thrust away, the foreman's tight hole hugging his cock.  To his
surprise he found soon found Bill's hairy cheeks pushing back to meet his
thrusts, pressing against the tops of his thighs.  A few more thrusts and
Steve pent up frustration boiled over.  He felt the climax building from
deep within him, tightening up in his balls.  With a loud cry of release,
he came, feeling himself ejaculate deep into the big foreman's arse, spurt
after spurt firing into him as his tight sphincter maintained its firm grip
on his cock.  Bill kept still, letting out a quiet appreciative grunt as
Steve's pumped his semen into his backside.  Steve stopped soon after he
felt his spasm subsides, leaning against the burly foreman's thickset body.
With a final groan, he slipped out of him, feeling his arsehole closing up,
as he pulled free.  He gave his hairy cheeks a firm squeeze, proudly,
noticing the wet spunky patch he'd left in the crack, plastering the hairs
to his cheeks.

"Thanks for that mate!" Steve gasped sincerely, basking in the pleasurable
afterglow of his climax.  Bill stood up with his fists clenched, angry and
breathless, rubbing at his arse furiously.  Steve thought he was going to
hit him again for a brief moment.

"Fuckin' bastard." He mumbled at him, though he didn't look him in the eye
straight away.  He stood there, big and naked, seeming a little embarrassed
before he glared at Steve.

"Well tha knows how to fuck, I'll give thee that tha Brummy cunt."  He
picked up Steve's crumpled boxers again and wiped out the crack of his
arse.  "Full of your fucking spunk." he mumbled.  He gave him another dirty
look.

"Does tha need t' piss?"  He asked Steve.  Steve shook his head.
"Bollocks!" snorted Bill getting down on his knees in front of him, placing
his hands on the top of his head.

"Go on then, you bastard, finish the job!" he grumbled.  Steve, excited,
twigged that the foreman wanted him to piss over him.  He held his soft
cock and found his bladder had more pressure on it than he'd thought.  He
concentrated and managed to force out a few pathetic dribbles before he
eventually broke into a full stream.  A pungent yellow jet gushed forth,
sprinkling the foreman's hairy chest with his urine, running down between
his legs, through his dark pubic hair and over his genitals.  Steve pissed
into his face, which he screwed up against the warm. flow, kneeling
patiently as Steve directed his flow over his cock and belly.  With a
concentrated grunt, the foreman started to piss where he knelt, not
removing his hands from his head.  He just knelt there quietly, pissing
onto the ground through his fat cock, letting the puddle of his piss spread
between his parted legs, and pooling around his knees.

Steve finished up, pissing his last against his hairy belly, and as an
after thought, cautiously spat a big gob of spit onto Bill.  Bill chuckled
and wiped it off his cheek, smearing it from his fingers into his chest
hair.

"Good lad.  Got some balls after all.  I'm not scared to take what I give
son."  He got up onto his feet, and used Steve's boxers again to wipe off
some off the spit and piss.  Without any fuss as to his filthy, sweaty,
piss covered condition; he found his clothes and started to dress, stepping
into his underpants, tucking his large balls into the stripy pouch.  Steve
felt a pang of disappointment when he saw his meaty cock disappear from
view.  He looked incredibly good naked.

"Hurry up son, Get your fucking clothes on an make scarce afore some fucker
turns up."  He sniffed at himself.

"Fucking hell son, I smell like t' back wall of t' warehouse with yer piss
all over me.  I'm off for fucking shower, quick."  That brought a smile to
Steve's face as he pulled his jeans on, tucking his filthy balled boxers
into the back pocket.  They'd make a good souvenir.  Bill stuck his
piss-dampened legs into his scruffy work trousers pulled them up, zipping
his flies, as Steve finished dressing.  They slipped on their high viz
waistcoats, and replaced their hard hats.  Bill offered him a fag and lit
it for him.  He puffed out a big cloud of smoke.  Without a word he walked
over to the door control, flipped the key and stabbed the 'open' button.
Finally, he slammed shut the back doors of the Iveco, jumped into the cab
and drove out of the loading bay.

Steve followed him out on foot, wondering what he was going to say to him
to conclude the experience.  With the truck's engine still running, Bill
jumped out, pressed the button to close the shutter doors, then retrieved
his operating key from the outside control panel with a satisfied grunt.
He ambled over to Steve with his usual stupid grin back on his face,

"I'll say this for thee lad, tha's a good fuck for a lorry driver."  To
Steve's surprise he slipped his big shovel hand around the back of his
neck, gripped him tight, and planted a firm, wet kiss on his mouth, the
brims of their hardhats clashing together.  His stubble rasped against
Steve's face and he could smell his piss as he pulled back.

"Right, that's tha lot, lad, tha's shot thee fucking bolt.  Tha can piss
off back to the rest of the thick Brummy cunts now."  Steve had somehow
expected something more in the way of a goodbye, maybe even an offer to get
together again.  Bill was having none of it however, climbed into the
Iveco, released the air brakes and eased out the clutch.  He stopped after
a couple of yards and leaned his rugged face out of the window and grinned
at Steve, standing like a statue with his mind virtually blank.  Bill
called to him,

"Well don't just stand there gawping lad, get thesen home. Go on, fuck
off."  He raised his eyebrows mischievously and drove off kicking up a
cloud of dust as he bounced the Iveco over the dirt towards the exit onto
the main road.

Steve shook his head with amazement and started his stroll back to the
lorry.  He walked slowly and waddled slightly, walking with his legs apart
to ease his rather sore arse.  In addition, he could feel a few lumps and
bruises starting where Bill had punched him.  He could still feel the
sensation of Bill's rough hands roaming over him, the taste of his cock,
the feel of it inside him, and the smell of his warm sweaty flesh.  He got
back to his Cab, climbed into the drivers seat, gingerly easing down his
sore behind.  A quick rummage in the glove box produced a packet of
Marlboros and he tapped one out and lit up using the cab's lighter.  He
took a deep drag and savoured the rush of nicotine into his blood stream,
blowing out smoke in thin blue streams.  He idly wondered if his experience
was just some sort of delusion, but his sore arse thankfully reminded him
that it wasn't.  He fired up the diesel to set off back to the truckers'
hotel for a good night's rest before heading back early next morning.  He
drove out having one last look at the site through the chain link fencing.
He'd had shag or two in his time, some good, some bad, but Bill definitely
fitted in to the top ten.  He caught a glimpse of his driver's sheets for
the last couple of days against the dash.  All said and done, he couldn't
help but smile, thinking that he'd seen a few more loads dropped in the
last couple of days than he'd planned.

______________________________________________________________________________

If you have any comments or criticisms, or especially if you have any
similar stories to share, I'd love to hear from you.  My e-mail address is
as follows:

furryfranks_email@yahoo.co.uk