Date: Sat, 1 Jul 2017 01:49:16 -0400
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: Back of the Shuttle Van story

			  BACK OF THE SHUTTLE VAN
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     I stood at the street corner that Sunday near sundown with my duffel
bag. My sole possessions for the week ahead, I'd be spending the week,
Monday until Friday, up at the worksite. There was a van that would pick me
up, and I'd start work Monday morning like a guy with a regular job, and
after work's end on Friday evening, they'd pay me my week's wages, load us
all back into the van and we'd head back home. I was expected to have eaten
my supper already before getting into the shuttle van (it was a two-hour
drive) but would participate in a stopover meal at a restaurant on the way
home. Nine guys, I knew, would be sharing the back of the van for the
two-hour drive. The driver and the foreman would get the front two seats. I
didn't know what the accommodations in back were like but hell, you can put
up with a lot for only two hours.
     The shuttle van pulled up and it was one of those boxy kind of vans
that you see driving around making deliveries, like UPS. The front of the
van was separated from the back by a full-sized panel. The rear door opened
and I stepped up inside and looked around.
     A small overhead light kept it from being totally dark, but the light,
though enough to see, wasn't enough to read anything comfortably, if you
see what I mean. There were seats along each wall of the inside, four on
each side. I was the ninth person in the van which meant I didn't have a
seat! "Hey, Gilbert!" they called me by my last name, I'm John Gilbert.
     "Hey, guys!" I said, and looked around. "Uh, where do I sit?" There
were no overhead straps to hang onto or such, and no way to stand in the
middle of the van and hold onto anything.
     "Ninth guy gets the middle." one of the guys gestured. All eight of
them were massive, muscled men, you don't work a job like ours up in the
middle of nowhere if you can't sling about heavy objects with impunity.
     "The middle?" I looked at the narrow area between their feet. The
lockers for our bags were near the front, but there was only an area about
two feet wide and eight feet long left after you factored out the men's
feet. "How am I going to ride sitting there?"
     "You don't sit there, you lie down there." The man advised. "It's
carpeted."
     I stowed my bag in one of the lockers and was glad I'd chosen a duffel
bag, a hard suitcase wouldn't have fit inside at all. All the other cases
were soft-walled, so I mushed mine in among them and closed the locker and
said, "All right, everyone, pull your feet in and we'll try this out."
     I sprawled among the boots and jeans and felt like a damned
fool. Sprawled on my stomach and told myself again, it's only for two hours
and after that, it'll be five days before I have to do it again. And the
pay is good....
     The van lurched as it turned a corner and I was glad I wasn't trying
to ride standing up. No wonder they'd advised me to lie down! This van
shook like crazy and we were heading for long, winding roads not very well
paved, if paved at all.
     "Better to lie on your back." someone advised and I turned over. They
were right, it gave me a weird view of everyone's legs and some crotches, a
few faces here and there now and then, but at least the swaying of the van
didn't send me sliding around. Much.
     Then we pulled up to a place and stopped and the rear door opened and
a tenth guy climbed in with a bag, towering over my head! "Hey, guys!"
     "Hey, Morton!" the guys called, well, more or less, that was the
response, a bunch of hellos and a couple of mentions of his name. From my
viewpoint, his crotch was tremendous, it bulged out his jeans in a way that
said the tool inside was a monster! The body above it was totally ripped,
the abs were a taut six-pack, the chest was a huge shelf above that and the
arms on either side were masses of bulges that weren't smooth
anywhere. Jesus! This guy needed two seats for himself alone! He was
wearing workboots, worn blue jeans, a red plaid shirt and a yellow hard
hat.
     "No, don't get up." he said to me. He stepped gingerly around and over
me and got to the front and stowed his gear. That put him at my feet
instead. He turned around and said, "This one's the new guy?"
     "Yeah." one of the other guys said. "Nothing to do now but ride for
the next few hours."
     "Plenty of time, then." the big man said. He knelt down between my
legs and I started to scoot myself up, I figured we'd sit feet-to-feet on
the floor, he could lean against the lockers and I could lean against the
rear door. But he caught my feet when I tried and pulled me back down to
full length. Then he reached for my fly and I started to reach for his
hands to stop him.
     The guys seated caught my hands as I tried. This had all happened in
silence up to that point, then I broke it by saying, "What the hell?"
     "Just hold still and it'll all be easier." Morton told me. His hands
had my belt unbuckled now and was working on my button-fly jeans.
     "Easier?" I gasped. I was flailing with my legs, and two more guys had
caught hold of them, too, now I was basically helpless. "What the hell is
this?"
     "Think about it." Morton said almost conversationally as he worked my
fly more. The guys holding my legs were pulling off my boots while he did
that, it hindered him some. "We're going up to an isolated locale, just a
couple hundred guys. We'll be up there for more'n five days at a time, and
we aren't home for more'n a day and a half, most of which we're
asleep. Working hard, nothing to do when we're not working. No television,
no radio, the mountains cut them off. No cell phones, either, a dead
zone. Just us guys, working hard and needing something more than shoveling
food in our face and then crashing in a bed that's not so damned
comfortable." He had my jeans undone and now was working my pants down my
body, the guys on either side helping him. "So what else do men do when
they got no women? You can fuck yourself silly over the weekend, but then
the week comes around again and you realize it just ain't enough."
     My jeans were pulled from my body and Morton delayed his assault on my
briefs by pulling socks off.
     "It takes a special kind of man to live this kind of life. Plenty of
guys they hire do it one week and quit at the end of it. You might do
that. You might not. If you do, you're going to be part of a damned close
team of men. Damned close."
     Now he was reaching for my briefs. "Close enough to let us do
this. You're new on the job, so everyone's going to want to ball you. Once
they get to know you, you can ball them, too." His hands pulled the briefs
from my body, leaving me naked below the waist, "But for now, you're all
ours. Two hours to the jobsite, and we're going to make the best of it."
     He reached for his own jeans' fly. "I get to go first." Doing his own
pants, he was far faster than he'd been with me. Pulled them down and
exposed his organ. One of the guys who'd been holding my leg expertly
squirted a glob of love-lube onto the expanding prod as it inflated itself.
"This is how we do things, Gilbert. You don't like it, quit at the end of
the week. Lots of guys do."
     He leaned down and rested his brawny knuckles on either side of my
chest and the guys holding my legs all this time lifted me upwards so that
he could shove that prong into my ass.
     It was that abrupt, that callous, that matter-of-fact, his taking of
my virginity. I'd never even thought about having sex with a man, I mean,
in any way other than "no fucking way." Now I was butt-naked on the floor
in the back of a van and a massive man was pushing his cock in at my
anus. I looked at him, dumbfounded despite all that had happened up to now,
and then the glans began to push my sphincter open and the pain of that
insertion hit me like an electrical shock.  "Oh, oh, owowow-OW!" I cried
out, writhing in the grips that held me bound at wrist and ankles all held
above Morton's powerful form.
     "Got to get it in you the first time." Morton grunted as he found my
bowels resisting him.  "Always hurts that first time. But you get to like
it. Get where you don't even need that much lube on it, even. Now hold
still, you're making it worse."
     I did hold still, God, anything to make it not hurt so bad, and Morton
wriggled his butt, got a different angle, and shoved again, hard. This
time, the glans burst through my inner sphincter and Morton didn't let up,
he just pushed until he had it all the way inside my body. Not that I was
silent as he did it, I howled out,
"OWWWW-OHHHHHH-AHHHHH-AHHHH-HAHHHH-AHHH-GAHHHH-UHHHHHH!"
     "There, that's got it into you." Morton grunted in satisfaction. "Get
used to it, Gilbert, it's going to be the first of a long, long line of
'em!"
     "Ohhhh, OHHH, OHHH, ohhh, ohhhhhh!" I gasped as I squirmed under
him. Every move hurt, but he was deeply imbedded in me, I didn't dislodge
him, save a little, and when I did, he shoved and drove it back in deep
again.
     Writhing under Morton's powerful body and with his massive prong
filling my bowels, I moaned and grunted and wriggled, and the longer I
endured it, the less agonizing it was.
     Until Morton started to move. His muscled hips drove his shaft up and
out of me and then back in and I erupted into new pain, and I groaned, but
he didn't stop, he just kept his body moving on me, long, slow thrusts that
elongated and prolonged my pain.
     But the fact of the prolongation seemed to dull the edges from the
misery, and his movements by dint of their repetition stopped hurting so
much. And as the pain diminished, another sensation rose slowly from within
me.
     Pleasure. Pleasure of a sort I'd never known before. Part of it came
from the thick greasy male shaft now driving in and out of my ass. Another
part was being in this place, surrounded by large, muscled, hairy male
men. They were watching me, all of them, in a sort of quiet
satisfaction. Not disrepect, I realized, nor contempt, for they all had
been in this place, in this way, lying on the bed of the back of a van and
having a hard cock driven into them the first time. I was merely the latest
in a long, long line.
     And as the pleasure rose up in me, I stopped fighting him, fighting
all of them. And they sensed it, these hard, strong men, they released me
and I gripped Morton's body with my heels on the backs of his thighs and my
hands on his back, and he grinned at me as I looked submissively up into
his eyes, and he began to fuck me in earnest then.
     The van's motions evened out, we were on the highway now, only long,
slow curves would interrupt our travel until we reached the turnoff for the
plant, a good fifteen minutes from now. A smooth ride made for a smooth
fuck as he began to really throw that hard dong into me. And I, who had
never before considered being the bottom for another man, was holding onto
him and moaning as he plowed my ass but good!
     Morton fucked me hard, strong and smooth, and as he reached his
completion, his face softened from the rough, gritty features of a
hard-living, hard-loving man to the more classical form of an enraptured
lover. His moans were like soft tufts of cotton falling on me, punctuating
with small impacts the joy that was percolating through my body.
     I heard those sounds as they suddenly caught fire and, the moans
became grunts, the grunts became groans, and the groans sped up in number
and length and Morton's face contorted once again, now it was less
masculine and more bestial in quality, he was caught up in the moment and
the desire and the need, and I knew that he soon would be spilling the pure
white liquid of this desire into my body.
     And knowing this, feeling this through my hands and my body and my
ass, I caught my own fire and I groaned myself, I stiffened all over and
then I ejaculated, my white jism pumping out of my cock and spraying the
two of us as we thrashed together on the floor of the back of that van, and
the men watching us made small sounds of male approval as we writhed in
mutual joy on the floor between their legs.
     Done, Morton fell onto me and we lay there a limp mass of exhaustion
man-flesh on the floor, and then he rose wearily, wiping the sweat from his
eyes as he pulled his expended dong out of my ass.
     I looked up wearily as he got to his feet and then another man, the
one to Morton's left, got down on his knees and Morton took this man's seat
and this new man, one who'd been holding my legs at bay, unzipped his
chinos and hauled out his own cock. His man was less muscled than Morton,
and younger, he wore black chinos and a yellow shirt, and wore a green
ballcap decorated with a yellow emblem with a black deer on it. His grin
was less assured and more playful than Morton's, he was second in line by
dint of his seat on the van and nothing else, and he intended to enjoy
fucking an ass right after Morton, instead of being number six or seven in
line.
     Some oil squirted on his dong and he began to try to get it in me. He
was awkward, unskilled, I had to help him get it aimed right and then he
squirmed rather than rammed it inside me. But Morton had stretched me out,
the pain was minimal and once this young stud got it in me, he gave me an
energetic ride that only the young and athletic can give, and when he came,
he howled like a party animal howls.
     Then it was the next man's turn. The van made things shaky at times,
but the men persevered, sometimes pausing in their thrusts to let the floor
steady again before resuming their fuck. By the time we arrived at the
plant, all nine of these men had screwed me, and when the last one
finished, Morton said, "Better get him dressed, we'll be there in less'n
ten minutes."
     So I dressed and exhausted and sweaty, checked in and was assigned a
trailer and a job title and got a photo ID for future use and to use when I
picked up my paycheck.
     I went into the trailer and it was filled with more men, and I was
again rammed repeatedly by man after man after man. It didn't stop until
nearly two o'clock in the morning, and then I was allowed to crawl into my
sweat-and-semen stained bed, and I passed out rather than slept.
     During work hours of eight o'clock and six o'clock, I was unbothered
and allowed to do my job unmolested. But once the work day was over and
we'd eaten, it was time again for more of these men to get to know me. I
lost all track of how many cocks I took in that week, but I feel sure that
if any of those two hundred men didn't fuck me, it was a case of their own
choice, not my avoiding them.
     Back in the van, I again regarded the same nine men who had ridden up
with me. By now, I knew them all by name and something of their
lives. "Hey, Morton." I said as I saw the big man in one of the seats. "End
of a long week."
     "Yep." Morton agreed. "So how about it. We going to see you again
Sunday night?"
     "Yep." I said as solemnly. "It was a rough go, but I think it's going
to work out. So now what?"
     Morton reached for his pants' fly and I sighed. By now, my ass was
totally broken in and fuckable. I undid my own belt and said, "How do you
want me?"
     "Wrong question." Morton informed me.
     I stopped, my hands on my fly, a zipper on this one. "So what is the
right question?"
     "You should have asked, 'how do you want it." Morton said as he pulled
down his pants and off, and I saw now he had removed his boots and was
wearing no underwear. He laid back on the floor of the back of the van and
said, "I think I'd like it like this." as he opened his hairy legs for me.
     I looked him and then I pulled down my own pants and got down on the
floor. Crawled across and on top of this big, powerful man who was giving
himself to me, and Jim spewed some oil onto my cock and I shoved it in him.
     The bouncing of our bodies was increased and/or hampered by the
bouncing of the van. But that's how it is when you fuck a man's ass in the
back of a van moving down a mountainside toward home.

                             THE END
               Comments, complaints or suggestions?
             E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM