This is a true set of circumstances with a fictionalized result. Names have been changed.
Concrete Crew 1 - By Grunraq
It was the summer of 1999 and I was living in a brand new apartment complex in Rocklin, California. They were a beige cell-block style design not unlike the rest that dotted the landscape of the area, no character no soul. My time there was only temporary while my new house was under construction, but I'll never forget that summer.
One of the first things I noted when I was moved in was the rough looking studs that arrived each afternoon from work together in a group of orange company work trucks. A new set of freeway bridges were being built nearby and a company from Washington state had been contracted to build it. The apartment complex where I was living had rented a number of furnished apartments to the company to house their crews while they were in town.
One group of them had the unit next to mine, others were spread throughout the complex. The three guys next door were drop dead strapping studs. It wasn't that they were model material, it was more their "blue-collar Joe" persona that got me really. It only took me a week to get into the habit of watching them pull in each day and dismount from their F-350 Super Duty trucks, shining with sweat. There uniform was typical - sweaty orange work shirts, sometimes none, faded jeans and tan leather work boots. They usually bounded out of the trucks with their lunch chests, a case of beer and sacks of groceries. To smell steaks on the BBQ and hear them partying loud several times a week had become routine.
On some weekends I would see them pack up their bags and take off, presumably to visit family back home. They were obviously making pretty good money as one of them, their foreman went out and bought a ski-boat which was promptly parked in front my apartment. While I bitched about having one less space to fight over, it was great to watch seven or eight of their buff tanned frames loading up the boat and handling their gear a couple times a week.
While I had exchanged nods and hellos in the parking lot, it was a month before I finally had the occasion to introduce myself . I was on the way back down the path from getting my mail one Saturday afternoon and they were drinking beer and cooking up some steaks on their patio. They'd been out to the lake with the boat and were all wearing shorts and flip flops, half drunk, maybe sunburned and in a good mood. The guy who I had assumed to be the boss, was about 30ish, maybe 185 lbs and built like the guys you typically see wearing the orange vests - stacked. We exchanged glances as I approached and he said, "Hey there neighbor, want a beer?"
I accepted and introduced myself. Handing me a dripping icy bottle of Bud from the chest, he said ,"I'm John." Pointing to the other two guys he said, "This is Steve and Tony". They both nodded at me and held out their hands. Steve was a blond haired guy with an average build. He had a short crew-cut and looked pretty natural in a tank top. Tony was the guy who had my attention. He was shorter and looked younger, maybe 24-25 year old. He was about 5'-8" and very much Italian. He had short black curly hair and a tightly cut mustache and goatee - obviously a work of pride he maintained meticulously. His upper torso had a most pronounced "V" shape. Though he was not overtly muscular, it was more a natural form. A light line of hair ran down his bare chest into his shorts. I had to work at not staring at him.
They were both friendly and shook my hand. Steve got back to flipping a steak and Tony lit a cigarette as my attention fell back on the boss - dark haired, rough shaven and goateed John. He had that alpha-male quality to him that is probably why he is the foreman. Starting right into a conversation that lasted for over an hour, I asked him, "So how do you like that boat?" Shooting it with the guys over a number of beers I learned that that John oversaw the crew of a dozen guys on the project all of whom were living at the complex. They had been here for about 6 weeks and had another 8 to go. Steve and Tony also help ran the crews, John`s assistant superintendents.
Hours later I had become their new fast friend, telling them about some of the better hot spots in the area to go party, go boating, and have a good time. People always like a good tour guide right? They invited me to stay and have a steak and more beers. It was not long before they were getting trashed, and I was starting to as well. I had been copping looks on Tony most of the night. He was hot. The other two guys were lookers too, but Tony was giving me reason to swell. They way he moved, his athletic build, hmmmmm this slab of manliness was killing me. He was a character too, passively flirtatious in the way he flaunted himself. Many times he dropped comments into the conversation about his wielding cock or his sex escapades with women. Not only was I thinking about his cock, but sinking mine into his tight ass.
John's cell phone rang and he stepped away for a couple minutes. Steve and Tony commented to each other
about wishing they were getting stoned. I perked up and asked, "You guys get high?" Steve looked at me and replied, "Yeah, you have any?" I was distracted fleetingly as I watched Tony digging his hand into his Bermuda shorts and readjusting his package. Damn! "Um, yeah weed." I stumbled. "Yeah actually I do have some of the mean green". My eyes returned to Tony's cock and balls clearly outlined through his thin fabric shorts while the Italian handled himself. He must not be wearing any underwear I thought. Steve turned around noting Tony resituating his cock. Steve nodded in embarrassment, "He always has his hands in his pants, don't worry about him". Tony pulled his hands from his crotch and motioned them in retreat, "Sorry, I got fuckin sand from the beach grinding at my balls". I smiled at them both, "So you guys want to light up then?"
Excited like a couple of kids, they both answered "Hell yeah!" almost in unison. John came bounding out the door with more beers to dump into the ice-chest "What's all the excitement about boys?" Steve turned to him and said, "Our neighbor here is going to smoke us up". John looked back at me as a glaze came over his eyes and he smiled wide with excitement. "Right fucking on man!"
I went to my place and grabbed my buds and some papers and returned to their apartment. We all sat in the small living room while I twisted up a nice fat hooter. The TV blared some old sitcom while we toked the joint down to a nub. After a short time zoning, John and Steve soon ended up going to the kitchen to clean up the dinner mess leaving Tony and I in the living room. We were situated on opposite sofas and Tony was leaning back stroking his lightly haired stomach and chest with his hand, reveling in his high. "This is good weed man, thanks for lighting us up man" he smiled as he said. "No problem." I replied. He rolled his head back on the top of the sofa and closed his eyes in pleasure, the sexiness of his body radiated at me like the sun. His cleft chin was keenly spit with a nice tightly trimmed growth of thick facial hair accenting it. The other two guys were oblivious, talking to one another in the kitchen as I admired Tony's studliness. I just sat there in my own high zoning at the TV and glancing over at Tony. He appeared to be floating off in his own world .
His head laid back facing the ceiling, I caught him slightly crack his eyes open to a sliver. He looked at me discretely. His hand continued to caress his abs slowly. I looked away at first, not wanting to be caught leering at him but I soon realized that we was peeking over at me occasionally to see if I was watching him. Steve and John were now sitting at the kitchen table engulfed in a conversation and were in their own sphere. I continued to gaze at Tony. His hand crept slowly down his stomach into his shorts and he longingly handled his meat. As I watched him, his eyes cracked open fleetingly catching me watching. Before I could look away, he slowly let a wry smile form across his face and sunk his hand deeper into his pants. I could tell he was getting a massive bone down there while his hand meandered behind it pushing it out in view. My aloof glances had changed to a relaxed, stoned stare as I realized I was getting a willing show from this Italian stud.
About that time, a knock came at the door and John jumped up to answer. It was a some of the other company guys. They were all in swimming trunks and had towels around their necks. John looked at his watch as they came in saying, "Shit where'd the time go! Let us get our towels real quick" Tony's hand had recoiled at the door knock and he sat up, obviously trying to let his meat shrink a bit before getting up. One of the company guys looked around the room sniffing at the air and looking at me funny. "Something smells good in here", he remarked. I just smiled.
Steve looked at me and said, "We're all going down to the spa for a while, do you want to come?" While it sounded good to hop into a big tub with all these studs I was too buzzed for it and was afraid I would be the only one with a fat woody the whole time. So I told them I'd pass this time, that I really should get back home anyway. Tony looked at me for a minute and turned to the other guys saying he too was going to pass on the spa. "I'm too fucked up guys, I think I'm just gonna crash", he said to them. "Shit man you'll be passed out right there on the couch when we get back", Steve chided. The guy who sniffed the pot in the air looked at me devilishly and nodded knowing we were all stoned as shit.
John and Steve both went down the hall and came back with towels and the group of men began leaving. I asked Tony if I could use their bathroom. "Yup, right down the hall", he said. "I'll be right here, not moving ". I got up and went to take a piss as the last of them left and shut the door. After letting out a good long whiz I contemplated jacking off there in their bathroom as some of their underwear and dirty clothing was laying about. But I wanted to get back and see Tony.
Continued in Concrete Crew Part 2