"Banged at the Building Site - Part 1" It's a hot day on th..

"Banged at the Building Site - Part 1" It's a hot day on the outskirts of the city. The afternoon sun beats down as you pull your car into a parking space next to a downtown construction site. You park your car and sigh, turning off the ignition and looking at the manilla folder on your passenger seat. Picking the folder up, along with your phone and keys, you exit the vehicle and lock it behind you. You're on a mission from the architect's office that you work for; the folder contains updated material inventories that need to be signed off by the site manager. This is the last stop on a day of running errands for the office. You approach the chain link fence that surrounds the perimeter of the construction site. After walking for a minute you reach an open gate where workers are entering and exiting. Walking past the entrance you look at the flurry of activity that surrounds you. Cranes, front-loaders, cement mixers, and dozens upon dozens of men working hard to build the city's newest building. You keep scanning the site, gazing around in search of the site manager's office. Suddenly a large, burly man shouts at you. "Hey, Mac!" You turn towards the voice with a start. "Who, me?" "Yeah, you! Can't you read?" You stare at him indignantly. The man points at the warning signs hung up around the gate you've entered through: DANGER - HARD HAT AREA. ALL VISITORS MUST WEAR PROTECTION. "Where's your PPE, buddy?" "I-I don't have any, just here to drop off some forms." The man rolls his eyes and walks you over to a rack with four blue hard hats. "We use blue for visitors," he looks at your head and then selects an appropriate size. "Just make sure you hang it back before you leave, got it?" You take the hat and put it on your head. It feels unusual, not uncomfortable but not comfortable. You look up at the man, he's very handsome with a thick black beard. You make eye contact and smile, but he purses his lips and shakes his head. He turns away and begins to return to his work. "W-wait," you interrupt him mid-stride, "do you know where the manager's office is?" He stops and points at a beige mobile home trailer on the far side of the lot. "Boss will be back in ten minutes, he went to lunch." "T-thank you!" you call off as he walks away from you unresponsive. You sigh and watch him go back to his business, then you walk towards the trailer, clutching the manilla folder tightly. You walk the hundred or so yards across the site towards the lone trailer. On the side is a sign with big letters, orange on black: CAMBELL BROS. & CO. The office is on top of a series of stilts supported by cinder blocks, with a sturdy set of stairs leading up to the door. You walk up the stairs, putting your hand on the banister--careful to not get a splinter on the bare untreated lumber. You ascend the four steps and knock on the door, not sure if there would be somebody inside to let you in. After knocking a few times you resign yourself to waiting outside. Turning around you look over the construction site once more. From your elevated position you have a better view of the activity--the dozens of strong men in orange and yellow hi-viz vests and blue jeans, many of them with thick beards or hairy chests. Some muscular, some fat, some tall, all very masculine. Your lips begin to parch in the afternoon sun. Pulling out your phone to check for messages, you note the time: 3:12 PM. "Ten minutes..." you think to yourself. You amuse yourself people watching as long as you can before pulling your phone out and biding your time. You watch the minutes tick past. Then just before 3:30, there's a rise in activity level as a white pickup truck is escorted through the entrance gate. The driver takes a slow B-line towards the office and parks parallel to it. On the sides of the door is the same orange-on-black lettering of the company. The cab door opens and I emerge, groaning as I step down the truck's frame and onto the ground. I reach back into my truck and retrieve my safety gear--putting it on as one of my employees approaches me. You watch as we talk shop for a couple minutes. You see me laugh and give the man a pat on the shoulder. He returns the touch and then turns to leave, going back to his work. I close the door to my pickup and walk toward the stairs, tightening my belt and looking up to make eye contact as I approach you. "Well, hello there," I open, coming up the stairs, "you waiting on me, I suppose?" "Yes, Sir," you smile, "I'm here to see the manager, I'm from Mr. Williams' office." "Ah, you must have the new sheets, hm." "Yeah, I just need to get your signature to approve them." "All right, well come on in." I fumble with my keys and unlock the trailer door. I squeeze past your body on the way inside. You follow me in, taking note of the ramshackle nature of my office. Papers and prints are everywhere, tools and equipment are piled in the far corners, and dirty coffee mugs line the windowsills. Organization has no home here. I walk towards the back of the trailer and sit behind a desk that takes up almost the whole width of the space. The desk is the only surface in the office that has been cleared off, with only a laptop computer and a desk caddy on top. I look up at you and gesture for the paperwork. You hand me the folder and I lay it on the desk, opening it up and leafing through the documents. Picking up a pen from the desk caddy I look into your eyes and smile. "You know, they could have sent these for a digital signature." You smile and blush. "I know, but our email server was down this morning and the deadline is 5 PM tonight." "Five? We don't have much time then, do we?" "Time? Time for what?" You feel your heart skip a beat. You swallow your tongue and shift your weight back and forth on your heels. You look at me intensely, knuckles clenching as your palms begin to sweat. "Time for me to put your pretty lips to work," I lean back in my chair and smile. My orange construction hat and reflective vest contrast against the navy blue denim in my jeans. The seem of my crotch is bulging. "I seen the way you been gawking at me since I pulled up. You want a piece of this, don't you?" You lick your top lip with the tip of your tongue. "Yes." "Say 'please'." "Yes, please, Sir," you get down on your knees and approach my chair. "May I taste?" I smile widely and undo my belt buckle, and then the button to my pants. "Go on now, get you some then." You reach up to my waist as I unzip. Your hands grab onto the waistline of my jeans and pull them downwards. I shift my weight and lift my ass up, letting you pull my jeans down to the ankles. You grab my boxers next, yanking them down as you expose my thick bear cock inches from your face. The aroma of my masculinity enters your nose, your nostrils flare as the testosterone hits your nasal receptors. You instinctively inhale a big whiff, getting yourself high off of my scent. "Fuck you smell good," you lean your head into my crotch and begin to lick the head of my cock. You roll your tongue around my cockhead for a second before slurping the semisoft shaft down, going all the way to the base, and burying your nose into my pubic hair. You take another whiff of my musk as your tongue massages the underside of my cock, letting me harden inside your mouth. You feel my head snake down the back of your throat and begin to swell. My left hand reaches down and coddles the back of your head, offering support as my dick reaches its peak and begins to pierce your throat. You gag gently as I adjust the position of your head, then begin to move you up and down my shaft. You moan on my dick as you're guided up and down my thick bear cock. My right hand joins the left and I toss away your blue hard hat. Now with one hand on either side of your head I raise and lower you while your mouth spreads saliva all over my tool--lubricating it to ease passage inside you. "Fuck that's good throat," my hips move in synch with my hands to gently fuck your face. "You doing a good job!" "Thank you, Sir," you mumble on my cock as you gag over your words. You look up in my eyes with wide, appreciative pupils. You see my face contort as I moan and seethe in pleasure. My groans grow increasingly primal, grunting like a primate as I push my cock into your throat. "Mmmm, fuckk--" I pull your face all the way down and bury you inside my fat pad. I corkscrew your head around my cock and make you take every last centimeter while flooding your nose with my odor. "Right there, that's the spot!" You groan and close your eyes, holding your breath and massaging my dick with your throat. I hold still as use my tool to adjust your throat's tightness, recalibrating it to my size. You feel yourself gag as you're resized, being careful not to move yourself as my cock throbs and shoots rewarding precum. Slowly I raise your head and turn it upwards to make direct eye contact with you. My wet cock splashes precum on your face on the withdrawal. My left hand moves down the right side of your face to fishhook your cheek so I can inspect my work, while the right hand gently slaps your left cheek. "You like that dick, boy?" "Yes, Daddy!" you suck on my thumb like a jawbreaker. "Good, cause Daddy's gonna open up your holes." I hawk back a big loogie and spit it in your face. You close your eyes instinctively. The feeling of my warm spit hitting and running down your face melts a hidden corner of your brain. You moan and are met with another slap to the cheek as I stand up--towering over you in my hi-vis vest, I slap you across the face with my cock and rub my spit over the head. Still holding your cheek with my thumb, I stick my left index finger in as well and gently pry your jaw open--inserting my rock hard cock and slapping it on your tongue. "You ready for a real face fuck?" You nod your head and begin to suckle on my cock. You moan loudly and whimper, looking up at me with your wide submissive eyes. I squeeze my lips together and push out another wad of spit, letting it fall on your face. I smile and move my left hand out of your mouth, both of my hands pushing the back of your head into the desk as I bend at the knees and line my cock up with the down angle on your throat. My huge hips heave back, retrieving my cock until just the tip sits behind your lips. You look up with great anticipation, gulping and taking slow deep breaths--preparing yourself for the oncoming assault. "Good boy, here it comes..." To be continued...