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