I’d had just about enough of this toilet cistern. Every time I tried to line the mounting holes up it pivoted on the coupling to the bowl and everything went out of alignment. What’s worse it was a humid day, bloody warm, and my work kit, shorts, jock, socks, boots, t shirt, was soaked through with sweat, and covered in grime. The hi-vis vest had seen better days too. I let out a yell of frustration.
“Are you alright up there?” I heard from downstairs.
“Absolutely fuckin’ fine,” I growled back. “Who the fuck’s that?”
A gruff chuckle. “Don the scaffie. Sheltering in here till the drizzle stops and I can get the rest of the stuff off the house next door.”
“It’s fuckin’ rainin’ as well?”
“Yup.” There was a pause. “You need a hand with sommat?”
“Too bloody right.” Steps clumped up the stairs. From my position on my back jiggling the cistern I saw a pair of muddy workboots heave into view, tanned and hairy legs leading up to faded black jogging shorts, white t with oil and grease stains, and a smiling stubbled face. Six foot if he was a day, and about the same across.
“Nice view,” he said, nodding at my legs, knees apart.
“Fuck off…”
“So whatcha need help with?”
“See them bolts?”
“Yup.”
“I’ll push up the cistern till you tell me the holes align with the ones in the wall, then you slip the bolts in, give em enough turns to bite.”
I heard him grunt, grab the bolts, then his boots were either side of my head. “I’ll push up now…”
“Gotcha. Up about a centimetre… bit more… left one going in… tad more on the right… right one in and a quick screw on both.”
I started to scoot out, but stopped, looking up. “Nice view,” I said, taking in the commando sight up his shorts. “Thought you scaffies were more secure than that.”
He looked down. “Scaffolding done up tight. Scaffies go loose.” He knelt down and straddled my waist, putting a well oily and grubby hand on my chest. “Like what you see?”
I looked up at the stubbly face, the cropped head, the suspicion of a boxer’s nose, the bright blue eyes. “Yeah.”
He reached behind him, feeling for my cock and balls. “So I see…” He got off me quickly, got me by my ankles and dragged me out from under the toilet, then got back straddling my chest. He took my arms in each hand and held them behind my head on the floor. He leaned down, and very deliberately, very gently, brushed my lips with his. He slowly lay down on me, 17 stones keeping me pinned to the floor.
I partly opened my lips and let my tongue slip past, and he took the hint and thrust his deep into my mouth. I just closed my eyes and let the moment run…
I felt him slip away, release my arms and sit up. “Rain’s stopped,” he said. “Just got a few clamps and poles and boards and shit to disassemble and stow on the truck then I’m done here.”
“Where’s your crew?” I asked.
“Fucked off down the pub soon as the rain started. Can’t blame ‘em to be honest – been a sticky day and we got most of it stashed away.” He stood up and offered a hand up. “Go faster with two.”
I took the hand. “I know fuck all about scaffolding,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. “Like to get to know a scaffie a bit more though.”
Don grinned. “You can use a spanner, can’t’cha?” I nodded. “Come on butt, you’re done here for the day too.”
I followed him downstairs, out the still half-completed house and across the quagmire to the next house, which was structurally complete and now being fitted out inside. There were only a few boards and poles waiting to be taken down. Don tossed me a spanner. “Follow my lead, undo the bolts enough to slide the fitting off or the pole through. Boards on that side of the truck, poles on the other, fittings in the box. Piece of piss this is; even a plumber could do it with the right incentive.”
I laughed. “What incentive’s that?”
Don laughed back and clutched at his groin.
“Fair enough,” I smiled, and got to work with the spanner.
--+--
Half an hour later, the scaffolding was down and stored on the truck, and we were both sweatier and grubbier – that stuff is not clean by any stretch of the imagination. Don sidled up to me. “Grubby little bugger ain’tcha,” he grinned and put his arm round my shoulders. “You did good there butt, might call on yer talents with a spanner again.” The arm slipped upwards and round my neck. “Now then, inside or outside?” he said quietly.
I struggled to look at him with his arm tightening. “Outside’s a bit exposed…”
“Whole site’s fucked off,” he replied. “We’re the only ones here.” With that he hooked a leg under mine and dumped me on the ground, in the steaming mud on my back. He fell over me, hands to each side of my shoulders, boots either side of mine. He slowly lowered himself onto my lips, this time the tongue was in, rough and ready, no mercy. I felt his body weight press me even further into the mud and could feel his cock pressing up against mine – benefits of going commando. He grabbed a handful of mud and smeared my face with it. “Looking prettier now,” he whispered.
I managed to grab a handful myself and returned the favour, rubbing it over his stubble and up into the cropped head. “Not so bad yerself,” I grinned.
With that he chortled. “So that’s how it is then butt!” He raised himself a bit, then forcibly turned me over onto my front, and slipped his muddy had up the leg of my shorts. I could feel his fingers start to rub my hole, gently working it and getting mud inside. Meanwhile he had a hand on the back of my neck keeping me in place, and one side of my face pressed down. I heard him scoop up more mud and then felt that cooling round my arsehole and a finger very definitely probing inside, then two, opening me up. Then an arm forced its way under my waist and pulled it up so I was near on all fours. I felt my shorts get pulled down, my jocked arse now exposed.
“Ready?” Don asked.
“For?”
“My cock butt, my cock!”
“Fuckin’ ready, ya scaffie bastard…”
I felt something at my hole, something hot. He’d prepared me well, as his cock slid in easily right to the balls. He wasn’t long, he wasn’t thick, but he filled me up good, and he hit that spot so that I felt precum ooze out me own dick. He pulled out near all the way, then eased back in, then out, then in, then out again. He slowly built up speed, always taking me ball deep, always near on just out. He kept that up, eventually his arm came out from under me and snaked round my neck, and I was no longer on all fours but front down in the mud again. His other grubby hand reached round and clamped over my mouth. I didn’t fuckin’ care; his cock was all I wanted, and after an afternoon of cistern tension this was all the relief I needed, wanted, desired.
He gave one last deep thrust, held me like that for a good few seconds, then he let out a massive groan, and I could feel his cock pumping away in me. It seemed to go on for ages, put was probably only five or ten seconds, and then he slumped on top of me, gasping for breath in my ear.
“I needed that,” he said quietly. “You fuckin’ needed that. Had my eye on you for a while, but I reckoned you’d never make the first move.”
“Too bloody right,” I replied. “Wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of a scaffie ever. Too many muscles, big tools and so on.”
He pulled his cock out of me. “You seemed to get on ok with this tool.”
“You got me prepped up well,” I said. “Mud always gets me going, grubby blokes just as much and put the two together and I’m well up for it.”
He stood up and tucked his still semi cock back in his shorts. I rolled over onto my back, and he held out a hand to pull me up. “Fuck, you are one muddy messy bugger.” He looked down at my groin. “And you’re hard as fuck too.” He pointed at it. “How we gonna sort that out butt?”
“You been calling all the shots so far; what do you suggest?”
In reply, he came up to me, grabbed me by the back of the neck and walked me into the half finished house, and into the back room. He stood me back up against an unplastered wall, put a hand on my chest, and got his face deep into my armpits. I could feel him sniffing deep and then licking them out and it was turning me on big time. He then got to his knees. Before I knew it, he had my shorts down round my ankles, my cock released from the now muddy jock, and he started to lick the precum from it that he’d drilled out of me. His grubby hands were kneading at my balls, and eventually round to my arse and a finger or two slipped up, lubed by his cum oozing out. I had my hands on the sides and top of his head, my eyes closed, just enjoying the sheer horniness, the musky sweaty scent of him.
Before too long I could feel the cum building up, ready to burst out. “Gonna cum…” I muttered. He stopped sucking my cock and stood up. He leaned in close and gave the roughest kiss yet, grimy, sweaty, muddy, letting me know who was boss, and then he went back down on my cock, fingers back up and sucked me for all he was worth. I could feel the cumming start to happen, and I just pushed my cock forward deep into his mouth and let fly. I must have sent a good seven jets of cum into his mouth, and he continued to suck until I had stopped, and he’d licked the last cum out of me.
Then he stood up, leaned in for a kiss and passed me my own cum, sweet, salty. He broke off the kiss. “You’re a tasty fuck, that’s for sure.”
“Fuck you,” I said smiling. I reached down. “You’re still hard; can’t having you going home like that – or can we?”
He shook his head. “No fuckin’ way. There’s another load in there for you to work out…” I’d pulled his shorts down and his cock sprang up, drop of precum glistening on the end. I didn’t waste any time and just went down on him, taking him balls deep in my mouth, tasting me, mud, precum, cum and sweat, getting off on the whole sensual experience of him.
“Fuck…” he sort of said, near a whisper, “you’ve done this before…”
I just held up a thumb’s-up sign – didn’t want to talk with my mouth full. I worked a hand round behind him to his arse, zeroing in on his hot sweaty hole. I rubbed the pucker in time with my sucking of his cock, and felt it swell even more in my mouth. With my other hand I grabbed hold of his balls, filling my hand with them, tugging them down and closing off round the top. His hole was slippery with sweat and mud, so I slipped a finger in, and he gasped, letting out a “mmm”. I took that as a sign to carry on, so I relaxed off the sucking and started to work a second finger up him. There was a small amount of resistance at first but that soon went and I found my fingers knuckle deep.
Don was still just standing in the middle of the room, sweat dripping off him, off his nose and on to the back of my neck. All I could smell was the sweat, the musk, the oil and grime, the mud, and it was keeping me turned on as fuck. He shuddered once, then caught his breath, then with a half whispered “fuck…” his cock exploded in my mouth, a good few jets of cum hitting the back of my throat, and I swallowed the lot.
I let him finish and licked the last drops of cum off his cock, took my fingers out of his arse.
He just looked at me, then turned round, and got on all fours, his arse up in the air and pointing at me.
I didn’t need any more hint that that. I got on my knees behind him, took my own stiff cock in my had and guided into his sweaty, muddy and hairy arsehole. My fingers had done their work well, and there was barely any resistance as my cock slid deep inside him. I put my hands on the small of his back and gently pushed down. He got the idea and flattened himself on the floor with my cock still locked inside. I lowered myself down so I was lying on top of him, sweat and mud filling my nostrils. I started to gently fuck him. Small movements at first, then going for greater thrusts and deeper pushes. I built up enough rhythm to start slapping his buttocks with my groin and the wet slapping noise was all the encouragement I need to fuck this 17 stone scaffie till I’d cum deep in him.
I could feel my balls swell, and my cock get to that point of no return. One last deep slapping thrust and I was there holding it until my cock exploded for the second time that evening, pumping cum up this meaty arse.
I collapsed on top of Don, pulling out and rolling beside him. He reached over and pulled me in for a deep passionate kiss and a lengthy sweaty bearhug while we both caught our breath.
“Pub?” he asked.
“We’re grubby as fuck,” I said. “They won’t let us in.”
“Beer garden then.” He leaned in for another rough kiss. “Pub?”
“Pub…”
Fin
The End.
No more, so don’t ask. |
