Date: Sat, 28 Jul 2001 02:10:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: thinkamajig@webtv.net
Subject: Temp Tales

For the summer I've moved into Manpark and slept under the stars. A few
other guys have moved in as well. To make enough to eat I work at a few
temp jobs.

We gathered in ManPark one night to tell stories around an imaginary
campfire. Here's the story I told.

My first assignment was at the city auditorium where we were setting up
for a wedding party.

The foreman for the arrangement was someone named Joshua. I asked for
him and was glad to see the square-shouldered 35-year old walking up to
me, ocean-blue eyes and all.

A couple other temps were assigned to the place and Josh got a couple
started on vacuuming, a couple others on sweeping a separate area and a
few wiping windows and setting up tables.

"I've got one other project that I'm going to handle myself but I need
one person to help. I guess you're it," he said when I was the last one
of the group unemployed. "Follow me."

We headed down a longish hallway and around a corner to some  restrooms.
He walked up to where a metal wall separated the two toilets. The small
urinal was against the opposite wall. He grabbed the metal and rocked it
back and forth.

"Needs a screw on the floor," he said. "You wanna go down or should I?"

No sooner was on I on my knees when he unzpped the full crotch that was
at eye level. I didn't even look up but took the pink, musky mushroom
into my mouth and drank it in.

He unbuckled a heavy buckle above my forehead and unfastened his pants,
letting them drop to the floor. His legs were firm as tree trunks and I
leaned my hands against each of them, bobbing my head forward to take
him deep against the back of my throat and then pushing myself away
until only my tongue remained buried into his pee slit.

When I knew he was about to come I inched my hands up to his balls and
held them tight against his asshole. I increased the pace of my face
against his bushy groin and then stopped suddenly, knowing he'd be
unable to keep from coming. I held my lips a half inch from his bulging
cock head and when he came it was warm surges of salty ocean almost
drowning me.

After many minutes of welcome silence and stillness, he finally broke it
with a relaxing sigh and flexed his knees. I slowly raised myself from
the floor where I'd fallen into a heap. He reached over the the paper
towel dispenser and dropped a few from a feet feet over my head onto me.
Then he dropped a screw and handed me a screwdriver.

"You'll need this," he said.

A couple days later I was assigned a job in an office building where
some desks needed to be moved from office to office. It was a big
complex of anonymous buildings. I was told to report to Dave.

He was in the basement, down a service elevator and in a half-room
submerged behind an impromptu wall at the back of the room. Stacks of
desks and chairs were in the front main area of the room. The added-on
wall didn't completey go to the ceiling. Dave sat at a desk in the back
area.

He had that kind of beard I call a farmer's beard, not well groomed but
not sloppy, not trimmed down to fit a certain shape but allowed to grow
in all places that it does grow. Dave was about my age. We shook hands.

He was matter-of-fact, if now dawdling. He showed me the first desks
we'd be moving and then wanted to show me where they'd be going before
actually getting them ready to move. We headed up the service elevator,
a crammed space. He didn't mind me standing behind him to the right, my
nose practically slipping into his tee-shirt to see what wonders were
below the neckline from which no hairs emerged.

We got to the rooms where the desks were to be delivered and were met by
a secretary who informed us that the desk move had not yet been approved
and wouldn't be for a couple more days.

Back in the main room outside his office behind the fake wall he said
how he'd like to find something else for me to do since I was there in
the first place.

"Hmm, what else have I got that needs doing?" he wondered aloud and I
could barely keep myself from saying, "We could close your office door
but the moaning would still be heard out here." The words were in my
mouth but not said yet when he suddenly said, "Oh! The paint room."

Some sails that had filled to full in my mind suddenly went limper than
my dick as I followed him out of the room.

Down the hall of the long basement I followed him, around a corner where
we came to a boiler room door, big metal latch and all. He opened it.

We steped onto a wire catwalk a foot below hall level and walked to the
ten metal mesh stairs at the end. There in the basement of the basement
of the building were several long, narrow tanks with gadgets and
submarine trap doors attached to them.

Off to one corner was the "paint room," a few wooden shelves crammed
with buckets and garbage and boxes and caulking guns and stir sticks.

"This needs arranging," he said. I grabbed a box that looked like it
already had garbage in it and took a few steps toward the corner.

"There's another area over here you can't see from there," he said,
starting to walk away. I followed and, sure enough, around a corner was
a small room with only a utility sink, a hose attached to the faucet.

"This needs arranging, too," he suddenly turned and was rubbing his
crotch. "Take your clothes off."

I didn't say a word but began to do as he'd asked. He was doing the
same. I stood and waited. He grabbed the hose and began to run water
until it was the temperature he wanted. He turned the hose on me, slowly
and ritualistically.

The warmth passing down the inside of my legs caused my cock to harden
immediately. He began to brush his beard against my stomach as he kissed
my nipples and licked the hair path from my navel to my neck.

When he finally had worked his way up my neck and was standing face to
face and kissing me, he took my hand in his and passed the hose to me.
He slowly fell to his knees and then onto his back. The floor drain was
situated between his shoulders and he stretched his legs out.

I held the hose with its slow-running stream a foot or two above him,
letting the warmth soften him. His cock was hard and huge, uncut. The
hair I'd expected and anticipated on his chest to match the luxurious
beard was not there. His chest was smooth as a sixteen-year-old's. And
as soft too.

I too had gotten to my knees. He took the hose from my hand and directed
it to my asshole.

"Straddle me," he coaxed and I did, facing him. It wasn't long before
he'd replaced the hose with his own hose and was fucking me slowly and
deeply.

I'd reached my hands up to his ears and brought them back to me, pulling
on his beard, softly but strongly.

"Yes, pull it," he urged. I did. With each finished tug I drew my face
closer to his. Him fucking me, my stroking his beard, we did this for a
long, slow time until finally our faces met and we tugged at each
other's lips and tongues with our teeth.

I gasped in surprise and bit him when he suddenly pulled out of my ass.
"Wha---?"

"Stay like that," he said, meaning on all fours. He slid out from
underneath me and stood behind me. Then he knelt and entered. The rhythm
that I thought we'd lost was quickly found again.

He'd found the hose again and positioned it between his chest and my
back, the water slowly washing up my back and then down to his slippery
piece of heaven. When his humping reached the frantic, involuntary rate,
the hose fell away and I pushed back against him as he filled me with
repeated explosions.

After what was at least his fifteenth shudder, he reached around and
found my cock with his left hand and the hose with his right. He
positioned the hose so that the water pushed against the base of my
balls and washed up onto my cock to where his hand was pumping in the
perfect rhythm. He worked his thumb into my wanting ass with his hand
still holding the hose in the perfect spot.

About to come, I clenched my assmuscles on his thumb and his clenched
the neck of my dick in a tight grip. My hips bucked forward to where
only the tip of his thumb was still in me then hips bucked backwards in
a collapse of relief, twice, four times, eight.

My ear against his neck, his beard covered my cheek and one eye. I
reached up with my tongue to lick the tip of his chin from beneath and
behind. Again my teeth tugged as his tasty bushiness. He held the hose
up to his mouth to have a drink and the overflow poured down his chin
and through his beard. I drank as of nectar.

Yesterday I was put on an assignment where a few of us were to move a
day care from one building to another across the street, a two-day
project. I was to report to Jacqueline. Damn, I thought, and I was
having such luck.

Jacqueline wasn't in her office when I got there. She showed up a few
minutes later with three clipboards in her hands and never stopped
moving.

"There are three other temps coming. All of you are to listen to .....
Sean!" She addressed him as he entered the room. Looking at his tight
red hair and the freckles that went from the back of his hand to his
sleeve-line, I didn't have to wonder how to spell "Shawn."

At first I could only notice his shoes, size 19 he told me today. Herman
Munster shoes, I thought at the time. A bit of red-blonde hair sprouted
from his open shirt, the kind that has only two buttons, a collar.

Just then another temp entered the room. Then another. Sean soon had us
working on various projects, carrying room by room from one building to
the next.

We passed each other going the opposite direction many times, each
carrying something.

Nothing to say, I'd usually look at him as we passed. He'd have a sort
of stupid half-smile on his face. Each time at the last second my eyes
dropped to take in his crotch.

It had been the immediate second thing I'd noticed about him that
morning. On any other man I'd have guessed the curve of cloth that arced
from his lap as a fabric fold, nothing more. And a large fold at that.

No. This could only be the real thing, judging by the perfectly outlined
head that was shown in denim there too. So round, so full. No size queen
at all, I was mentally obsessed by this crotch. My hands were yearning
to grab it, hold it, squeeze and please it. My tongue was tasting and
feeling every richly imagined drop.

During a cigarette break and a walk around the building I discovered two
bathrooms at the back corner of the building, detached from the rest of
the building. They served the neighborhood park that adjoined the
property. The small park had been unpopulated the entire morning.

After the cigarette break, more walking, more stupid smile. More
glancing at his crotch at every chance I could. If he was in front of
me,
I'd look at the reflection in the glass of the door as we'd enter the
building we were moving from. I tried to time it so that I was going up
the stairs while he was coming down at the building we were moving to.

At lunch time most of the others had gone to a local corner store for
sandwiches. I stayed behind.

"Not eating?" he asked.

"Naw. I think I'll just walk around," I told him.

I had the bathroom in mind, of course, and was there not much longer. I
sat on the toilet and took out my cock which had been half hard all
morning. My horniness was so urgent that it drowned out my hearing as I
started to shake my dick around in the open air. My eyes were staring at
the memory of Sean's magnificent mound. My lips stroked the corners of
my mouth.

I stretched my legs out from my sitting position to a straight-out
position. The door began to swing open. And there he was.

"You sure you don't want lunch?" he asked, a grin on his face, as he
stepped into the stall with me.

My hands went forward like jets with my face immediately behind. I
gnawed at his pole through the denim until it turned dark from the
moisture. I was salivating as I reached up to undo his pants.

As he pulled them down once I'd opened them, my hands reached up to pet
the hair that dusted his chest. His huge hands covered my ears as he
pulled my head from its furious lashing about.

He had me still before the pants fell past the log that was buried
beneath them. Perfectly round and larger than those orange-flavored
push-up popcicles. My tongue would not stay in my mouth.

"You like that, eh?" I nodded. "I saw you glancing at me all morning.
I'm used to both men and women that can't keep their eyes off it," he
said. "And the men know how to treat it best."

He shook his hips slightly and held my head just far enough away that
the vision of his cock was all that filled my vision, bobbing before me
slowly, left, right, up, down. He slapped it gently against one cheek
then the other then my chin, then my nose then my lips.

At the deepest I was taking only about half of him. And my mouth has
never felt so stretched and yet so eager. My sucking was as unforced as
a baby at a bottle. He rocked my head only a tiny distance; most of the
motion was from his pelvis.

On anyone else, his balls would have been medium-large but on him they
looked small and an afterthought. Already my head was against the back
of the toilet and he was straddled over my face. He removed his solid
sucker from my mouth and replaced it with his balls, sitting gently on
me.

I took them both in my mouth at once and ran my tongue over them with
first speed and then a slow inhaling. I reached one hand up (and up and
up) to travel the magnitude of his cock.

As I continued to lap his balls he slowly stroked himself, even his
large hands not big enough to cover the whole of it.

"Want me to come in your mouth?"

"Do I ever," I mumbled, his balls still in my mouth.

He removed himself and stepped back one full step to get just the head
of his dick in position. I attached myself to it widely. He kept his
jacking off motion against my now-stationary mouth.

The taste, the concept, the reality of having my mouth full of only dick
head made me shoot my was just as he expanded in my mouth even more. He
reached down and his hand completely surrounded my pulsing cock, filling
his palm with my stickiness. He reached it up to his nose first and then
his lips.

As he started to shoot his load against the back of my tongue and
throat, he poked his tongue from his mouth and jammed it through his
come-covered fingers. He let out a moan.

My mouth, already filled to cramming with his spongy softness, couldn't
hold the huge load which splashed in rapidly propelled wads from both
corners of my mouth. The fact that he was coming didn't slow down his
jack off movements, his knuckles continuing to brush against my nose and
cheeks. I was swallowing as much and as rapidly as I could his sumptuous
splatter.

Lunch? It was a feast!

I'm going to have to add that park and rest room to my wanderings. Even
though it doesn't seem like folks use the park for anything at all, let
alone that, I will know that nearby is a cock that would make all the
waiting and wanting worthwhile.