Bone Work III by Sin titulo
Greg's dusty new Chevy pickup pulled up into the shade beside the new house where we were laying tile. Arnie stood up and worked kinks out of his back with his strong hands and said he was heading out to the porta potty. I stood up as well, and watched Greg sorting through the envelopes on the seat of his truck through the side window. It was payday. As I watched, Greg glanced up and saw Arnie stroll out of the back door of the house across the still unlandscaped yard to the three porta potties at the back of the lot. Greg didn't hide his cock hunger very well. His tongue fairly hung out of his mouth as his eyes followed Arnie.
At the door to the plastic potty shack, Arnie pulled the red suspenders he always wore off his shoulders, and before he opened the door, popped the fly buttons on his jeans. Greg's eyes bulged out, and Arnie grinned back at me in the house as he stepped into the foul smelling potty shack and shut the door.
Greg, opend his car door, and slid out holding two envelopes in his hand. He started for the three porta potties, and then thought better of it, turning back to the house. I met him at the back door, which hadn't been hung yet. He bounded up the temporary wooden steps, and handed me my pay envelope. He looked over his shoulder at the porta potties, and stuck the corner of Arnie's envelope between his front teeth. He sucked on them for a time or two, and then handed me the envelope.
"What are you two up to tonight?" He never stopped looking at the porta potty Arnie was occupying.
"Well, we talked about grabbing a steak and then hitting the Fox Hole later for a few beers. Why?"
"Just wondering. I'm so fucking horny my nuts are aching from the pressure. I'd like to get together later."
"How? Ain't you carrying a millstone?"
"The bitch has taken the kids and gone to her mother's house for the weekend. Maybe I'll drop by the Fox Hole later. I gotta have dinner with my old man. He wants a report about the progress on this section of construction. When do you think you'll finish this tile. It's the last house on the line before we move on to the next section, which ought to be ready for you two mid week."
"Hard to say exactly when we'll finish it, but maybe Tuesday afternoon."
"Good. That will be perfect. No loss of time at all. The fucking old man rides my ass about every extra minute."
"Well you ought to like that." I grinned at him. Just then, the porta Potty door slammed open and Arnie emerged shrugging his suspenders back onto his shoulders.
"I gotta run to deliver these other envelopes. If Arnie gets near me, I'll throw a bone for sure, and I don't have the time right now. I'll see you at. . ."
"¨Round ten."
"Good. See you then." He almost ran through the hall to the front door, which also hadn't been hung yet.
"Hey! You forgetting I have a nosey landlady? We don't have anyplace to play tonight."
"Right! I'll think on it." He vanished just as Arnie bounded up the temporary steps at the back. I handed him his pay envelope, and told him I was for knocking off before the bank closed so I could deposit my check. He agreed. We finished another course of tile, and started to clean our equipment. Nothing was worse than gettng to work with a hangover, and having to take the time to knock old grout off your tools. With the headache, they rang like fucking bells. Wasn't a good way to start the day.
On the way to the bank, I told Arnie what Greg had talked about. He just grunted, and scratched his balls. As much as I liked Arnie, or you might say loved Arnie, he and I were just not in the same ballpark when it came to sex. I know I mentioned that we were each other's first cocksucking experience, but after we both had seen the possibilities, we both wanted to look around for something new and fresh. Arnie prefered a little more raunch than I was really into, although, I could step up to the plate and deliver if it was obviously necessary.
At the bank, the line in front of us melted when the gentry caught a whiff of our two days of sweat. Neither one of us had felt like taking a shower before hitting the job that morning, and it had been a hot day. Not even a fan in the house we were layiig tile in because the electrical services hadn't been connected yet. I noticed a little short guy in a maroon suit, take a deep breath as he finished his business with the teller, and his eyes roamed all over us as he made his way out of the bank. I glanced at him over my shoulder as he exited, and he was staring at us and his tongue licked across his lips. I grinned, and adjusted my package for him. He wiped his brow, and closed his eyes as the door closed on his hand.
Arnie cashed his check, and with the teller almost holding her nose, stuffed his wad of money into his front pocket. I stepped up and cashed mine. The teller looked like she was about to gag. I guess we neither one was her type. That was a two way street. In the parking lot, as we climbed into my Ranger, I happened to glance down, and saw we were parked next to the Wally Cox guy that had been giving us the eye in the bank. He might have been small, but the piece of meat he was holding in his hand was a master craftsman's tool.
"Holy shit! Get a load of the crank on this pissant." Arnie leaned across the steering wheel, and looked down through the windshield of the car the little guy was sitting in.
"Motherfuck. How big is that thing?"
"Looks like a strong twelve if it's an inch." I scrawled a note on a piece of scratch paper, and got out of the cab. I strolled around the rear of his car, and then up behind him on the driver's side. I watched for a second as he stroked his giant rod, before tapping on the closed window. The little fucker nearly pissed on himself trying to hide what couldn't be hidden with his two tiny hands. He looked at me in terror, but I smiled at him, and waved the note at him. He cracked his window an inch.
"Sorry about that bud, but we are in public here." I could see he'd broken another sweat across his forehead. I passed the note through the crack, and he reached up to take it with his right hand, exposing the massive glans of his cockhead. Man it looked juicy. A big drop of precum glistened in his enormous piss slit. "Don't waste it my man, until you read the note." I strolled back around the rear of his car, and climbed back into the Ranger. By the time I had my seatbelt buckled, and glanced down into his car again, he was trying to zip his monster hardon away. He looked up craining his neck though his windshield, and gave me the high sign. I grinned.
"What the hell was that all about?" Arnie was leaning over me watching the pissant put his big tool away.
"Nothing. I just gave him the address of the Fox Hole with the time we plan on being there." I threw my truck in gear, and backed out of the parking slot. "You want to clean up before we get something to eat?"
"We ought to. I smell like a fucking pig sty, and you da fucking pig." He laughed, and punched me on my shoulder as I pulled out of the lot into traffic.
By the time we'd cleaned up, and had a stiff burbon each, both our stomaches thought our throats had been cut. Neither one of us had eaten a bite since the night before, and that had been nothing much but a rat cheese sandwich, since we'd both drunk up our pay checks by then. Well, actually, Arnie didn't have one, and half of mine had gone to cover the my rent and Arnie's too. His former boss was so fucking pissed off at Arnie leaving, he told him he'd mail the check. I'd fucking carried the poor bastard through the week. Now he owed me.
"The way I see it mutherfucker, you owe me some of that wad you've got in your pants." He grabbed his package, and squeezed it tight.
"You mean this motherfucker?"
"I mean cash mutherfucker. I ain't interested in your dick. No telling where that thing's been." He laughed again. I couldn't help it. I loved the motherfucker. Always had, and always would.
"Tell you what. I'll pay for food and drinks tonight. How's that?"
"Shit. I expect I'll be carrying you for another week then." He grinned.
"Deal?" I nodded and reached over and squeezed his dick through his levis.
"Deal motherfucker, but if you don't start carrying your load I'm gonna run some ads and start selling your services." He laughed out loud and was still laughing as we pulled out of traffic into the lot of my favorite steak house.
I ordered the biggest steak on the menu, and chased it with a baked potato, sour cream, and a dozen fried shrimp. Arnie had the same, and before we finished, we had both killed four bottles of Strohs each. The clock behind the cash register said it was going on nine thirty as Arnie paid the check. I took a handfull of toothpicks wrapped in cellophane, and dropped them into my shirt pocket. Arnie muttered that he had to take a piss, and started for the toilet but I grabbed him by the collar and stopped him.
"Save it bud, if you can. It's Friday night, and we're headed for the Fox Hole." I'd only taken him there the Friday before. the joint only got hot on Fridays. The weekly regulars were a bunch of Vets from the Korean conflict, and some of Reagan's little shitpiles of wars, and one or two of the crap Bush senior got us into when he didn't know what to do. But Fridays, the regulars gave way to the few, the proud, and the ugly, left over from the Nam. Most of the Friday grunts had seen their action in stinking Southeast Asian jungles, and spoke a different language than the regulars. We didn't have much in common with the weekly bunch.
The hole, was still quiet when we pushed through the red paneled door and strolled in. The joint hadn't any windows, so the smoke was thick already, and not all of it was tobacco. Jake, the owner, had gotten tired of buying glass for broken panes and had just boarded all of them up at some point. There was still a couple of booths available, so Arnie and me grabbed the best one, and gave Dick, the barkeep, the finger. He brought us two in cans without glasses. There was no doubt about it, this dive could get rough.
Friday usually brought the police a time or two, and they had a standing order: three times and you're closed. Jake had tried everything, but the truth was by the time the local cops had responded to two of the brawls at the Hole, they had suffered enough casualties, and found it safer to cut their manpower losses and just padlock the place. Jake bemoaned the Nam crowd, but we all sucked it down like fish, and even though he was usually shut down by one in the A and M, he usually made more on our night than the rest of the week combined. The greedy bastard. Jake was somewhere in the back. He seldom showed himself in front on Friday, because he always pressed charges when he felt wronged, and he had made a few enemys.
The clock crawled to ten fifteen or so, but it was hard to tell because the plastic face on it had long since gone, and the minute hand had been twisted out of shape so it pointed in a cockeyed way several minutes past what the time actually was. The bar had slowly filled up with men intent on getting drunk, and all of us were busy doing the job. Arnie and me each had a line of five cans in front of us and were working on a sixth when Greg arrived. He had a look of panic on his face when he pushed through the door. The place did have a sort of Nam nightmare look to it by then. Lots of camoflage and plenty of tatoos. Big motherfucking bruisers staggering around loud in each other's faces. There had already been a couple of punchouts, but nothing serious.
He spotted us in the booth and made his way through the crowd trying to avoid body contact with the drunks. When he reached the booth, he slid in and held out his hand to look at it. It was covered in fresh blood. "What the fuck?" His eyes bugged out.
"Some son of a bitch got his ass kicked though the door a while back. Fucker it wasn't open at the time.
You probably got it off the door. That's why Jake had it painted red."
"Shit. Where can I wash it off? Where's the toilet?"
"You don't need to go in there by yourself." I poured a little beer on his hand, and told him to wipe it on his pants.
"Fuck you." He stood up again, and looked around. He saw the sign that identified the toilet, and started edging his way toward it. He got shoved from behind by a drunk, and staggered into the drunk he was trying to avoid in front. That bastard , shoved him away, and he lost his footing on the slick floor. When he surfaced again in the crowd, he looked like he'd been crawling in mud as he made his way limping slightly back to the booth.
"Well, that didn't take long," I said, taking another swallow and catching Dick's eye, gave him the finger four times.
By the time Greg made it back, Dick was just delivering the cans to the booth. He asked who was paying, but before Arnie could fish out his wad, Greg laid his Visa on the tray. "What the fuck is this piece of shit?" Dick's eyes took on an evil reddish glow as he stared at Greg.
"They don't take plastic here." I glanced at Arnie, who was peeling off a ten from his roll. Dick threw the plastic at Greg, but not before he folded it between his thumb and forefinger.
"What's with that fucker!" Greg was on his feet again, shouting at Dick's receeding back in the crowd.
I reached up and grabbed his earlobe and pulled him down hard. He sat down whining and leaning toward me.
"Get a new card man. You don't want to tangle with Dickhead." I let his ear go, and he straightened up rubbing it.
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because he's the only fucker in here that's never lost a fight. He ain't got no scruples about fair." I looked up, and happened to see the little short guy from the bank squeezing between two ex marines with skulls tatooed on their massive bare arms. In the haze, it looked like he was licking one of the bastard's arms as he wormed his way through. I pointed to him with my beer, and Greg and Arnie both turned to look. "Our guest has arrived." I waved at the little guy, and beconed him over. He looked flustered as he made his way to the booth.
"Wow," he gasped, as he slid in next to me. "I had no idea this place existed in Allentown. I'm so fucking horny I almost came just walking in the door. Hi," he said, offering his tiny hand to each of us. "I'm Ray, Ray Johnson. But you can call me Ray, or you can call me Johnson." his immatation of some dumb comedian's routine brought back memories immediately, and we all grinned at him.
Both Greg and Arnie seemed at a loss as to why Ray had joined us, since none of us knew him, and neither of them particularly wanted additional company. I reached under the table, and felt of Ray's cock. It was already hard from his trip across the room through all the sweaty men. It snaked sown his pants leg like a python and was near enough to his knee to call it there. He grinned at me, and I leaned over the table, knocking over my line of empties which clanked, and started to roll off the edge. Greg grabbed for one to stop it, but I grabbed his hand in my free fist, and dragged his under the table. It took him a second before I saw the realization dawn on his face.
"Holy shit!" He blew the words out with a gust of air.
"What? You groping this guys's big cock?" Arnie took a swallow of beer. "I seen it this afternoon at the bank." He slid off the bench seat, and ducked under the table. With my hand on Ray's leg, I could feel Arnie working on his belt, and soon enough my hand was resting on Ray's thin naked leg. His big shaft was sticking straight out and hard, and I heard Arnie gag as he went down on the monster. Ray just sat there, with a grin on his face. Greg looked confused. I reached under Ray's big shaft, and felt a handful of nice heafty balls. Ray moaned and grinned broader.
"What's going on?" Greg wanted to know.
"Take a look." I massaged Ray's nuts, and Arnie was still gagging. Greg bent over and looked under the table. It was too dark in the bar to see anything under there, so he fished in his pockets until he found his bic, and then flicked it on while he looked again.
The next thing I knew, he'd slipped off the bench seat as well, and Ray was being jerked here and there as the two cockhounds struggled to control his big shaft. After a moment or two, it stopped, and I could feel both their mouths working on the big tool. Ray just grinned. I took a swallow of beer, and told Ray that one of the full cans was for him. He gratefully took it and began to swallow it down like he was starving for beer.
"What's your story Ray?" I swallowed again, and gave Dickhead the fingers again.
Ray's grin broadened, and he swallowed his mouthfull of beer before speaking. I could feel he was beginning hump his hips a little. I felt around, and found Arnie had the head and a good four or five inches down his throat. "I haven't come in a week or ten days., and one of the fellas is about to get a mouthfull of cream."
"Don't worry about it. He'll swallow." He sighed, and his face distorted into a grimace. He grunted a few times, and I could hear Arnie swallowing fast and hard under the table.
"Oh fuck." Ray moaned. "That feels so fucking fine.
I needed that in the worst way." Arnie finally sat up on the seat again, licking his lips. Greg had yet to stop licking up and down the monster shaft between Ray's legs. I finally took hold of his earlobe again, and pulled. He got the message, and sat up just as Dickhead arrived with the next round.
"You cocksuckers take it outside if you're going to do that shit." Greg flicked his bic at him, and said he'd dropped his lighter. Arnie paid the big man, and he snorted at us and turned to go. Ray reached out and ran his hand over Dick's butt. He must have not felt it because Ray lived to savor it.
"So, you were about to tell us your story Ray." He took a sip of beer, and set the can down in front of him.
"Not much to tell. I married my highschool sweetheart, and the first time we had sex on our weddiing night, we were both virgins. She didn't like it much, because she said the size hurt when it was in her cunt. We don't get it on much any more. Been married twelve years, and mostly I just whack off if I get the chance. Once in a while, I make it over to New Jersey to a place I know along the Raratan river where I can get blown, and maybe even suck a little dick myself, but that doesn't happen often."
"What do you do for a living?" Greg was always looking for hot men to hire.
"I'm a house painter. Independant contractor." Greg smiled.
"I could always use a good painter. We've got this big development in progress. . ." Just at that moment another fight broke out near the bar. We all looked up in time to see Dickhead whop some guy up side the head with a baseball bat. The man crumpled to the floor, and Dickhead motioned with his bat for two of the guys standing around in a tight circle to drag him out. The noise level had reached a point to where it had become a wall of white sound. Words at a distance were inaudible. A path was cleared and the body dragged through the spilled beer and spit through the back door into the filthy trash behind the Hole. If the poor bastard Dickhead had hit woke up at all, it would be in the alley. But he was probably familiar with it already. Dickhead usually didn't employ his bat on first timers.
"Rough joint," Ray said, his eyes wide with what looked like admiration.
"Say Greg," Arnie said. "I've been wondering how you came by your particular thing?" He picked up an empty can and crushed it with his left hand. He sat the flattened can on the table, and reached for a full one.
"None of your fucking business." Greg apparently was a private man.
"You want what I'm saving up here, you'll make it my business!" Arnie reached under the table and we could all see he was heafting his basket. Greg licked his lips, and glared at Arnie.
"You fuck! That's blackmail!" Greg shifted in his seat, and ducked hiis head a little.
"Tell us motherfucker. We all know he score." Arnie chided our bossman.
Greg looked at him with watery eyes, and emptied his can down his throat. I flipped the finger at Dickhead again, and leaned forward as Greg started to speak. "Like Ray here, I married my highschool sweetheart right out of school. I didn't have to go to college, because my old man is who he is, and he put me to work in the family business."
"What's that?" Ray asked.
"Newley Development Company."
"No shit," Ray whistled. "You must be fucking rolling in it." Greg nodded.
"Anyway, after the girls were born, the wife lost interest in sex. I was reduced to what I could find on the side. For a while, I had a woman I could visit when I needed to, with no strings attached, but she moved away without leaving a forwarding address. Must have left the area, because she's not listed in the new phone books." He took a swallow of beer, and set the can down between his big hands. "The other thing," He said, so quietly we almost couldn't hear over the noise.
"Yeah," Arnie said. "The other thing."
"Last Spring, I went to D.C on business for the company, and happened to stop into a bar afterward. I got to talking to this guy from Detroit, who invited me back to his hotel for a drink. It was getting late, and he told me I could sleep in his spare bed rather than try to make it back to my hotel. The streets down there are dangerous at night, especially after the bars close. I took him up on his offer because I was a little drunk. It was some time later, I woke up, and he had my piss bone in his mouth sucking me off. It was the first time I'd ever had another man on my crank. When I blew my wad, he just kept it in his mouth, and I told him I had to piss, and he maoned, and told me to go ahead. So I did. It was the most erotic thing I'd ever done. pissing in another man's mouth. '
"He asked me to do him, and I'd liked it so much, I did. I loved his big load of cum in my mouth, but after, when he started to piss, I went crazy with lust. I can't explain it. I just fell in love with piss. The taste, the feel of the hot stream splashing on my face and down my throat. You name it and if piss is involved, I am ready to go for it."
"Fuck," Ray said. "I've never tried anything like that. "It sounds hot."
"You up for it?" Greg looked at the little man with renewed interest.
"Could be. You never know about anything until you've tried it."
"True enough. If you had told me a year ago that I'd be sucking cock and playing toilet for guys, I'd have probably taken that guy's bat to your head. We live and learn about ourselves." He took a swallow of beer, and looked down at his shirt. "Fuck. I'm a mess. I'm going to the john to clean up. He stood up and sidled out of the booth, his eyes on Ray the whole time. As soon as he disappeared in the crowd, Ray started to pull his pants back up. When he was zipped and buckled again, he slid out of the booth, and waved at us with a grin as he followed the path Greg had taken. Arnie and I just looked at each other.
It didn't take long for the buzz to make its way around the room that there was a couple of piss freaks in the toilet looking for used beer. In record time, a line formed leading to the men's room. Arnie and I decided to check it out. What we found was that the mostly unused women's toilet^×there were never any women in the Hole, on Friday nights at least^×was now occupied and the men waiting in line were taking turns going into one or the other of the johns.
I peeked in the men's room, and saw Ray on his throne naked from the waist down, his pants hanging from a hook behind the door. A big trucker type, was pissing on his chest and huge massive hard on. Ray was gasping for air like he'd just swallowed a half gallon of used. Since his eyes were closed tightly, he didn't see me looking.
Arnie met me on the back of the line, too afraid to barge in out of turn since most of these guys were twice his size. He told me that Greg, was totally naked, and on his knees taking bladder after bladderfull of hot piss. I could tell from the lump in his pants how he was feeling about it. As we inched our way forward, he asked me if I was interested in watersports.
"Shit man. It's really not my thing."
"Never tried it?"
"No. I haven't. Well, I have pissed in a few mouths in my time, but never taken it myself."
"It's not as bad as it sounds."
"How so?"
"Hot beer piss is mild, not at all hard to swallow. The first shot is the hardest, but you get into it pretty quick. It can be a horny turn on. You ought to give it a try."
"I'll think about it. I've already said I'd try anything once." He sniggered at me, and adjusted his cock through his levis.
"We ought to go out to the parking lot and let me piss in your mouth."
"Fuck you."
"I've always wanted to do it with you buddy. It's fucking hot. I've wanted to turn you on to piss." I thought about what he was saying, and my mind turned over an image of me on my knees with Arnie's dick in my mouth sucking down his hot piss. I shuddered at the picture. "If you want," he said. "I'll take yours first." The image in my mind reversed, and I felt myself start to get hard. I really had a lot of feelings for my old buddy, and the thought crossed my mind that if this was what he wanted to do with me, then I probably should let him have his wish.
"Come on cocksucker; you've just convinced me." I took him by the arm and steered him toward the back entrance which was just beyond the toilets. A dozen pairs of eyes followed us out the door, and there were a few muttered "faggots", and "cocksuckers" thrown at us as we went by. In the dark alley, the trash was piled up high. It looked like Jake wasn't paying the garbage man. At the end of the alley, we found a residential street shaded with old trees and lots of shrubbery. It must have been nearly midnight, so there were no lights on in the first house we came to.
I pulled him back into a dense stand of some flowering schrub, and let go of his arm. In the dim light from a distant street lamp, we just looked at each other for a minute.
Finally, he began to open his belt. I did as well, and once our pants were pushed down to the tops of our workboots, he reached for me with his rough callused hands. I shivered a little, not from the chill night air, but from the sensation of his touch. We hadn't had anything to do with each other sexually since the Nam, and it suddenly felt like I had missed him in the worst way. He ran his fingers lightly over my cock and balls, and then dropped to his knees. He took my half hard dick in his mouth, and just left it there. I tried to relax to let him have what he wanted from me, and after a moment, the flow began.
It was a trickle at first, but as I relaxed into the act more, my bladder, which was tight as a drum, let loose, and he began to gulp and swallow as fast as he could. I gave him every ounce of yellow water I had, and when he had finished with it, he began to suck me up hard. He was right about one thing, pissing in his mouth had been one of the hottest things I'd ever done in my life. He took no time before I was humping his throat with my bone, and he was getting a hot load of cum to top off his beer piss. He moaned around my shaft, and I continued to face fuck him until there wasn't anything left. He nursed my softening cock until I couldn't stand it any more. I pulled it out of his mouth, and the air felt cold on my wet skin. I lifted him up with my hands under his armpits, and he stood swaying a bit from both the alcohol and I suppose the thing we had just done.
"Let's go home buddy," I whispered in his ear.
"What about Greg and Ray?"
"They're both big boys. They can manage just fine without us."
"OK. " He pulled up his pants, and I did as well. We didn't go back into the Hole at all, but walked around to where the Ranger was parked. As we got to the truck, he threw an arm around my neck, and we hugged each other tightly.
"I missed you buddy," he whispered.
"Yeah, me too."
email: sintitulo2@yahoo.com