“Fuckin’ hot Madison Avenue ass,” the electrician whispered in my ear. “Your ass is hotter’n my wife’s pussy.” I hadn’t guessed, when construction started on the new high rise, that I would get a regular lunch hour fuck from one of the hardhats.

By Robert Ralph

(Honcho.April.1984.)

“There he is!” squealed one of the girls in the secretarial pool.

“Where?” asked another, crowding against the others to look out the win­dow.

“On that girder. He’s the one with the open shirt and the green hardhat.”

“I see him!” said another. “Get a load of those buns!”

The shrieks of appraisal were so loud that I couldn’t help but overhear. I stuck my head out of my office and inquired, “What in the world is going on?”

“Nothing, Mr. Simms. Nothing at all!” All four of them were glued to the window and giggling uncontrollably.

“You girls are up to something suspicious.” I said, walking towards the window where they congregated. I had to strain to see over them.

“We’re just admiring the view!” said one of them, and they all burst in­to hysterical laughter.

The object of their ogling was an electrician who was stringing cable on the building under construction next door to our office.

He looked about thirty or thirty five, with a dark suntan and sunburned face. Black curly hair poked out from his green hardhat, and the brim was pulled down to his mirrored sunglasses. As he worked the cable into place, his un­buttoned shirt blew open revealing a muscular, carefully defined chest and stomach covered in a layer of wiry black hair. He had a low slung leather belt filled with a zillion screwdrivers, wrenches, and other tools hanging nearly to his knees. His faded jeans looked as if they wouldn’t survive another washing, and it was obvious to me the way his dick and balls pro­truded that he didn’t have on a stitch of underwear. Working so near our window, he couldn’t miss the fact that he had a gallery of fans looking over his merchandise. However, he went about his business, apparently unconcerned with the furor he was caus­ing. The girls scattered and left me ex­posed in the large window.

I was rooted to the spot; his hairy body, glistening with sweat, had me going wild. My wife had had a hysterectomy and I hadn’t had any for almost a month. As the electrician flashed those fuckable buns, the old itch was so strong that my dick got hard as I drank in his every move. The faded material revealed every line of his ass, making me hornier than ever.

Suddenly, he turned and faced me. It happened too fast for me to hide my hard on, which was poking out at a rakish angle. With one gloved hand he removed the mirrored sunglasses and locked eyes with me. Then his big, fleshy, sensuous lips broke into a broad smile, crinkling lines at the cor­ners of his mouth, and he nodded. A silent communication raced between us and he, unheard, mouthed the words, “All right!” I got so flustered that I jammed one hand in my pocket to hold down my dick, and turned away from the window. The secretaries were making a point of banging the hell out of their typewriters to appear busy.

I grabbed my suit coat, alerted one of the girls that I was going to lunch, and headed for the elevator. I hadn’t had sex with another man in over two years and the hunky electrician was foremost in my mind all the way to the ground floor. My head reeled from the waves of heat that rose from the burn­ing sidewalk to greet me as I burst out of the chilled air into the reality of the awful summer day. I stopped a mo­ment to regain my equilibrium, and then started along the street past the con­struction site. There was an opening in the rough board fence where a truck was depositing some lumber, and I was drawn to it. Glancing inside, I found it opened right by a construc­tion shack, and who was going up the short flight of steps? None other than the electrician. Again, our eyes locked — at least I thought they did. I couldn’t be sure, since he had those damned sunglasses on. But he hesitated at the door, looking directly at me, and then nodded towards the door, silently inviting me to follow.

The heat of the day, the construc­tion noise, the roar of the traffic all merged, and my head spun around again. Dare I take the silent offer? My dick was stiffening at the thought of a nooner under those incredible cir­cumstances.

I walked up the short flight of stairs and opened the door to the construc­tion shack. He stood at one end, arms crossed, a smirk on his face. He pointed one gloved finger and said, “Lock the door behind you.”

I slid the bolt home, my hands wet with nervous sweat. He took a step forward, the tools hanging from his belt jangling as he walked. He stood, legs slightly apart, his thick thighs straining at the faded material of his jeans. The close, hot air of the shack made the heavy smell of his perspira­tion overpowering. It was too hot to stay there very long, and I wondered why he didn’t turn on the window unit behind him instead of leaving us sweltering. He scratched his nuts with one gloved hand and then recrossed his arms. The front of his fly moved as that long cock began to thicken. I stared at it. Sweat trickled from my eyebrows and burned into my eyes. It ran from my underarms, wetting my sides. Then I moved closer to him un­til we were face to face. One gloved fist grabbed my shoulder and pushed me to my knees in front of the swell­ing bulge.

“Man — I’m not exactly into — ” I began.

His grip on my shoulder tightened. “Take it out,” he growled, “and suck it!”

“But I — “

“Do it!” he said forcefully.

I touched that hard, protruding mound and had difficulty unbuttoning the first button, the area was so taut. Then the button popped open and a musky odor rushed up my nose and intoxicated me. The second button came free and a heavier smell flowed out, encircling my face with a sweaty, male odor that really got me going. His cock stiffened as I undid the but­tons and began to point up and out. I got a third button free and was able to touch the hard, hairy base of his huge dick. It was fiery hot and the large amount of hair sandpapered my palm.

“Go on,” he ordered. “Get it out and do me.”

My shirt felt cold from the wetness as I sweated profusely. I tugged and yanked, finally exposing his ten incher. As it cleared the fly, his dick thickened its uncut length, the red tip trying to free itself from the ring of flesh. It swayed in front of my face. He milked the skin back, forcing a spurt of pre-cum to lube the tip, shak­ing it in front of me, sending out the heaviest aroma yet. It made me dizzy and excited. I freed his large, egg shaped balls, which were framed by the mass of curly hair.

“Get with it, man. Suck it!” he said, jamming the long piece of meat against my face, forcing my lips apart. I grabbed his leather belt for steadiness; the tools rattled as he thrust his hips forward. My lips parted and the thick head of his dick cleared my teeth. It tasted salty and slightly bitter, and it was so broad across that I could barely swallow the first three inches. My head bobbed up and down, licking and sucking until the head was glistening and fully up, with the skin stretched to its limit and the pisshole open a bit. Slowly, I let my lips slide down the huge shaft, but could make no more progress than on the first try.

“You can’t get any more of it down your throat than my wife.” he said. It obviously pleased him that his dick was too big for me to handle. I made another effort to go down on it further, but it widened across the middle and was too fat for my limited ability. He pulled me off it, its shiny hardness wet from my saliva and his sweat. “Guess I’ll have to do what I do with my wife!” he said quietly, lifting me to my feet. Roughly, he pulled my belt buckle loose, unzipped my trousers, and shoved them and my underwear to the floor in one move.

“And that is?” I asked.

He turned me around and shoved me across the drafting table, knock­ing blueprints all over the floor. Then he pulled my coat and dress shirt high on my back and brought his big dickhead right between the cheeks of my ass.

“And that is —? Hey, wait a minute!” I said.

He laughed again. “Why, I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

The intense heat in the construc­tion shack had me wringing wet with sweat, and my butt was slick as glass. I could feel his hairy chest along my back as he hunched close to me. His hard, pointed nipples stuck into my shoulders. “Yeah.” he said, cramming his dickhead against me, “I’m going to fuck that Madison Avenue ass of yours!”

As I backed closer to his throbbing tool, sweat lubed the purple knob as he plunged inside me. Burning pleasure sensations ran like wildfire through my butt. Then he grabbed my shoulders with one hand and forced me across the drafting table. I reeled, feeling his manmeat boring deeper, inch by thick inch, up my ass. His hairy body raked against mine as he pushed, those tools on his belt rat­tling with each lunge he made.

I grabbed the edge of the drafting table to keep my balance. His gloved hand stroked my chest, pinching my nipples until they were as hard as my cock from the sensation of his rough construction gloves. He gradually lowered his leather covered hand to my stomach and played with my navel. Then he pulled my pubic hair, teasing around my cock without ac­tually touching it. He tickled the top of my dick, but still he hadn’t really touched it. All the while, he was withdrawing his dick and then slam­ming it back inside me.

The drafting table screeched as it involuntarily moved along with us. He pulled out and shoved back in again, this time grasping the base of my dick with his leather gloved hand. Slowly, he rubbed up the back side of my titillated cock, lingering at the sen­sitive mass of flesh below my dickhead. He pinched it, pulled it, rub­bed back and forth until it was shot through with pleasure and tingled almost beyond endurance. He closed his fist over my distended cockhead and fucked me with a faster stroke. As he tightened his hold on my dickhead, he reamed his long tool to its maximum, forcing me on tiptoe.

“Fuckin’ hot Madison Avenue ass!” he whispered. “Your ass is hotter’n my wife’s pussy. This is great fuckin’ you. I needed it! I needed it real bad!”

The action of his glove on my dick brought me to the peak and I began gasping as my nuts drew close to my body. He cupped them with his other hand and continued jacking me like crazy. He jammed inside as far as he could and touched my prostate, squeezing my cock the hardest yet. A low, gurgling moan rushed from his lips and I felt him forcing my butt until I thought I couldn’t take any more.

“Oh-h-h MAN!” he shouted as he shot off. A scalding blast of white hot cum rushed from his flesh pistol and sloshed against the walls of my rec­tum.

He squeezed my balls harder and intensified his jacking along the most sensitive part of my dick. Up to the head and around my pisshole he rubb­ed those rough textured gloves. Then he lunged against my prostate again and I yelled loud enough to be heard over the droning machinery outside. I unloaded a thick string of cum, shooting it over his fingertips. He pull­ed up and down, milking wad after wad, which squirted in unrelenting puddles on to the table. He kept jack­ing until my dick was limp and it had no more to shoot. Sweat and cum were running out my ass and down my legs when suddenly his dick made a sucking noise, kind of like a heavy boot pulling out of mud, and he yank­ed it free of my butt and began tuck­ing it inside his jeans. My ass burned and hurt and felt wonderful all at the same time. My dick was still leaking when I hiked up my underwear and trousers and tried to make some order out of the shambles of my clothes. I was a mess and thankful that I was an executive and had a private shower in my office, as well as a change of clothes.

Just before he unlocked the bolt, he straightened my tie and gave me a brief salute, touching his fingers to the brim of his hardhat. “Same time tomorrow!” He said it as a command. not as a question or a request, poin­ting a gloved finger at me.

The bright sunlight outside hurt my eyes. I knew I’d have to skip lunch and get back and clean up.

The next day, I sequestered myself in my office and tried to concentrate on work. It was almost impossible. The secretaries were chattering away, and shortly before noon they were creating such a commotion that I stuck my head out to see what was going on.

“There he is again!” one said.

“The one with the hairy chest!”

“Oh” wailed another, “he’s leaving. I wonder where he goes every day for lunch?” They all giggled. I knew it was time for me to make tracks and keep a date.

As I entered the sweltering shack and locked the door, he was taking off his shirt and lowering his jeans so that he was naked to the knees. I walked up to him without a word, ran my hands through the mat of hair on his chest, and pulled his nipples. He sighed, really getting off on that. His dick got hard in one quick move.

“Today,” I said, bending him over the drafting table, “I’m going to return the favor.”

He didn’t protest, but stuck his hairy ass out so that I could make easy contact. I had trouble finding the opening, so he guided my dick in. growling low and nodding his head in agreement. It was the hottest ass I’d ever encountered. I gasped as my dick plowed in. He squatted down like he was sitting on a chair, held on to the drafting table for leverage, and moved up and down on my dick like a pro. He squeezed his sphincter with each squat, dragging me to the edge of a climax. As I slammed his muscular buns for all I was worth, fucking him silly, he kept rocking up and down in that half sitting, half standing motion.

“Christ, man,” I said, “here it comes!” I socked it to him, both of us sprawling across the table as I shot off, screaming in pleasure as I pumped a heavy load into him. All that time, he kept murmuring something over and over. When I stopped shooting, I sank to my knees and went down on the steaming cockhead. The second my mouth closed around the fat tip, he yelled and gushed a load in my mouth, so much that I gagged and some of it dribbled out.

We were both wringing wet when I stood up and wiped my chin. “What have you got against the window unit being on?” I asked.

“It’s better this way.” he said, caressing his long dick for one last lit­tle sensation.

“It’s hotter’n hell!” I said.

“Boy, it sure is!” We both grinned.

“You know,” I said joking, “we can’t go on meeting like this. My secretary is getting suspicious!”

“I’ll bet she is! But we can’t have that,” he replied, grinning.

“What do you suggest?” I asked. He scribbled a phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to me. “What’s this?’

“A number where you can reach me — any time, day or night … when you can get free.”

“What about your wife?”

“She never answers that phone.” he said and smiled. “Damn good thing, too!”

“Damn good thing!” I agreed.