by Neil Plakcy
G. Russell Overton
I finished changing a faulty main breaker at my first service call around ten thirty in the morning and radioed in to let the dispatcher know I was ready for my next job. I was a journeyman with Oklahoma City’s largest electrical contractor, and most of our work was in running service calls. He responded, “KTK Base to KTK five thousand, come in.”
I picked up the microphone and said, “KTK five thousand. What have you got for me, Richard?”
“I need you to take a quick service call at the Burnished Oak Apartments. They have a bedroom light that’s not working, and a new tenant is set to move in this weekend. They have to clean the carpets this afternoon, so you need to get in there ASAP.”
The Burnished Oak Apartments were one of our best clients and one of Oklahoma City’s largest apartment complexes. I typically had a service call there at least once a week. I told Richard I was on my way. “I’m ten-eight to 6215 Northwest Expressway.”
Richard closed, “Joe, you need to see the manager, Tim Michaels.”
I smiled. Tim was a hottie, about my height, slender, with a dark head of hair and a full, short-trimmed beard. He was in his thirties and unattached as far as I could tell. When I had been there a week earlier, I had exchanged some rather suggestive eye contact with him. He had not seemed offended.
I parked my truck, strapped on my tool belt, and took my stepladder off the top rack. The leasing office was buzzing with prospective tenants, but Tim stepped out of his office after only a minute. “Joe, thanks for coming on such short notice. I’ll take you over right now.”
We walked out to the courtyard, past the swimming pool, to apartment 1217 on the first floor in the D building. Tim explained that the fixture had worked intermittently before quitting completely. They had tried changing lightbulbs several times without success.
I set up my ladder and took the globe down. Busy as they were in the leasing office, I was surprised that Tim stayed with me while I worked. He chatted on about all their new tenants. I handed him the globe to set in a safe place on the carpet. Next I loosened the two screws holding the fixture to the mounting bracket. While holding the fixture in one hand I removed the screws and instinctively wedged them between my lips.
Tim asked, “Would you like me to hold those screws for you?”
I looked over my shoulder and mumbled, “Naw, I guess I’m just used to sticking things in my mouth.”
Making direct eye contact and with a dead-serious face, Tim said, “So am I.”
Realizing the significance of his comment and my own culpability in leading to it, I nervously went back to work. The problem with the light had been nothing more than a loose wire. I secured it with a new wire nut and refastened the fixture base.
Tim handed me the globe off the floor. I returned my lines-man pliers to the front center pocket of my tool pouch, and I felt Tim’s left hand cup my upper left thigh. I looked over my shoulder, and he said, “I thought you were about to lose your balance.”
I smiled and said, “Thanks.”
His hand did not move, but his left thumb gently stroked the inside of my left thigh. I continued returning tools to my tool pouch and cleaning up the debris on the top of my ladder, slowly. I let out a faint “Hmm,” approval of the movement of his thumb. It moved up into my butt crack and stroked a few times. I sighed approvingly again. Tim’s right hand reached around to my front and began stroking my crotch. He rubbed my hardening cock, and I turned around on the ladder. He was eye level with my inseam.
In an instant my navy blue work pants and striped boxers were around the ankles of my spit-polished black boots. Tim buried his nose in my crotch before taking my cock in his mouth. His skill was evident. He knew just the right way to bring me to the brink of shooting before backing off to let me regain a sense of control.
I thought I should try to reciprocate and started to step off the ladder. His right hand firmly pushed my torso back against the ladder, and he pulled off for just a second. “Stay put, Joe. This is exactly how I want it.”
It was exactly how I wanted it, and I relaxed with my back against the ladder and my heels dug in against the second rung. My hands ran through his hair and stroked his beard. I never took my eyes off his handsome face sliding up and down on my cock.
Tim could sense when I could hold out no more. He pulled his own cock out and began stroking it while he continued sucking mine. I began to pulse. He shot off in short powerful bursts. One stream hit the third rung of my ladder; another missed the ladder and sprayed the carpet.
He helped me up with my pants and shorts, and I stepped down off the ladder. We embraced for a moment. I could taste my cum on his lips and licked off the small amount that was clinging to his mustache.
Tucking my shirt in, I said, “Now I know why you wanted me here before the carpet cleaners.”
Tim signed my work order, and I left for my next job.
The spring and summer of 1988 opened a new world for me. I started to toy with the idea of fucking just for the sake of fucking. My encounter with Tim proved that the straight men in the office, who were always bragging about how much pussy they were able to score on the job, weren’t the only ones who could get some on-the-job action.
I began to carry condoms and lube in my tool belt. There were a few encounters with customers, and I could always depend on Tim for a great blow job a couple of times a month, but most of my tricks were with other men in construction trades.
The summer turned out to be a scorcher, with record temperatures from the middle of June through September. Our shop even took the rare step of stopping attic work after noon each day. We still had plenty of opportunities for working in dangerous heat.
I started a remodeling project at a high-rise office tower in early July that would take several weeks. It was almost all rooftop work. The first part of the project was to install new air-handling units and rooftop security systems. The interior work would not start until winter.
Marvin, the shop manager, picked me for the job because he knew I was the best man at running conduit and was one of the few competent to work in a three-phase delta panel. A three-phase delta system can be dangerous and tricky. It differs from most home and office systems by having three hot wires. The third hot wire, typically called the “high leg,” runs at 208 volts to ground instead of the standard 120 volts. Any mistake can fry expensive equipment or cause serious injury. Marvin only let the most talented and skilled electricians live-wire a delta panel. I felt honored to have the job.
Workers from several trades were involved on this project: mechanical contractors, roofers, painters, and me, the electrician. It was miserably hot on the roof. All of the other tradesmen wore T-shirts, tank tops, and shorts. I was the only one dressed in a starched and pressed navy blue uniform. After the third day I asked Marvin if, for the duration of the project, I could dress more appropriately for the location. Being the conservative ex-Marine he was, Marvin emphatically said no. He insisted that proper uniform was the only appropriate attire while I was on any job.
After the first week I had all of the security system lights and horns installed, and I was mostly there to hook up and test out new equipment as it was being set. From that point forward I had a lot of downtime while I waited for other tradesmen to complete their tasks. I still had to stay on-site and on the roof most of the time.
On Tuesday of the second week I could stand the heat no more and took off my shirt. I kept it hanging nearby in case Marvin made one of his unannounced visits. It seemed like the painter and the mechanical journeyman did a double take when I strutted by with my bare chest. Johnny the painter said in a sarcastic tone, “Aren’t you afraid Sergeant Marvin will throw you in the brig or something?”
I laughed. “Sometimes we just have to take chances.”
Johnny looked me over again and said, “You look like you work out. What do you do?”
I said, “Kind of a basic routine. I run six miles each morning and lift at the
gym about three or four times a week.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow and said, “Impressive.”
He filled out his tank top nicely, and I commented, “You look like you keep in shape.”
He said, “Yeah, I lift some and play racquetball.” He stared right at my crotch and said, “There’s nothing like banging some balls really hard after a tough day at work.”
I returned the glance and said, “Yeah, maybe we could get together sometime and slap a few balls around.”
His paintbrush was starting to get crusty out of the bucket, and he needed to get back to work. He walked off and said, “We should get together soon, real soon.”
Gary, the mechanical journeyman, had been working nearby. I wondered if we had been too brazen. Gary smiled at me when I looked his way. He was wearing a T-shirt and cutoff jeans. His legs were hairy, just the kind I liked to have wrapped around my neck. I imagined that his tight little butt was as hairy as his legs.
Gary stopped me and said, “You know, I’m a runner, too, though I don’t do six miles a day.”
I knew he had heard every word. Now I had to find out if he had picked up on anything. I said, “Really? You certainly have the legs to prove it. Maybe we could go for a run together some weekend. On Saturdays I either go up to Lake Heffner or one of the other reservoirs around here and do an eight- to twelve-mile run.”
Gary nodded, “Wow, that sounds aggressive. I wouldn’t mind trying something aggressive like that sometime.”
I had to take the bait. I looked down at his legs, then up slowly at his crotch. “I could show you just how aggressive I can be.”
Gary smiled out of one corner of his mouth. “Maybe later.”
The next day was the hottest yet. By 9:00 A.M. the temperature was ninety degrees. Gary and Johnny were the only other workers on the roof. I knew Marvin was tied up with a project in Norman and would be there all day. I took off my shirt right away. Gary and Johnny did the same. Hairy-chested Gary was a stud in his skimpy cutoffs. Johnny was equally nice in his white painter’s shorts.
The three of us took our ten o’clock break together. We found a semishady spot on the north side of a cooling tower. Gary and Johnny both commented about how hot I must have been in my navy work pants. I told them I was miserable.
Gary said, “Why don’t you bring some shorts and change once you’re up here on the roof? We’re up high enough nobody can see us anyway.”
I shook my head, “I would be busted for good if Marvin ever came up here and saw me in shorts. At least if I keep my shirt handy, I can grab it quickly if I get wind of him paying a surprise visit.”
Johnny asked, “Is there someone in your shop who could warn you if he were coming? You would have time to change back.”
I said, “Yeah, Richard, our dispatcher is cool. He would two-way me.”
Johnny said, “There, problem solved. Why don’t you take off your pants?”
I knew where that was going but was a little too uncomfortable stripping out in the open. I said, “I don’t have any shorts with me.”
Gary asked, “What are you wearing underneath?”
“Boxers.”
Gary said, “That would work fine. Even if someone saw you from a distance, boxers would look just like Johnny’s painter’s shorts. No one would think any different.”
It was time for us to go back to work. I said, “Maybe after lunch. I’ll think about it.”
The sexual tension combined with the oppressive temperature made the roof nearly unbearable. I was running conduit for a compressor Gary was still assembling. Johnny was only a few feet away painting a railing. The three of us were quiet for about half an hour, but eye contact was continual.
Gary broke the silence. “Joe, you sure do look hot. I wish you would just take those damn pants off.”
I smiled. “I’m still thinking.”
Johnny increased the pressure. “The problem is you would probably look even hotter with your pants off.”
“Yeah, Johnny and I wouldn’t mind the view,” Gary agreed.
I said, “Maybe I would be more comfortable if you guys did the same thing.”
“I’ll do it,” Gary said. He stood up and started to unfasten his cutoffs.
Johnny spoke up. “Wait, I’ll do it, too, but I’ve got an idea. I need to paint the steps coming out of the roof access. It won’t take very long, but no one will be able to go up or down for a few hours. I was going to wait until the end of the day, but I could do it now. I’ll put a sign and a barricade downstairs so no one will be able to come up this afternoon.”
Gary and I went down to our trucks and gathered up any parts and tools we might need for the rest of the day. We grabbed our lunch boxes, too. I double-checked for lube and condoms.
Johnny barricaded the roof entrance and started painting the steps. I stood next to the compressor unit facing Gary. Gary said, “Okay, I’ll go first.” He unfastened his cutoffs and they dropped to the ground. I could tell that his cock was already semi-hard.
I had to take my work boots off first, and the roof was too hot to stand barefoot on for even a moment. I had to do one boot and one pants leg at a time so I could put my boot back on immediately. Johnny saw what we were doing and apparently noticed that both Gary and I were fully erect. Johnny yelled over, “Hey guys, wait for me. I’ll be done here in thirty minutes.”
I said to Gary, “We really should finish hooking up this compressor before lunch.”
Gary agreed, and we went back to work. Our erections went down while we focused on our job. Gary put the initial charge on the compressor. I just had to switch over the power disconnect so we could fire it up after lunch.
Johnny laid his last brushstroke on the steps and came up to where Gary and I were working and said, “Okay, it’s my turn. Are you guys ready for a show?”
I made a final turn on the faceplate screw of the disconnect. Gary and I looked over and Johnny performed a playful striptease. He had a nice body, muscular and lean with a perfect six-pack. He was mostly smooth but had a nice treasure trail running down his navel. He started dancing like one of the strippers at the Nail (one of Oklahoma City’s cruisy bars). He unfastened one button at a time while he danced and rubbed his abdomen.
Johnny finally got to the last button, and I looked over at Gary, squatting next to me in front of the compressor. He was mesmerized and completely unaware that his cock had grown fully hard and was poking out of the opening of his boxers. I reached over and stroked his cock. Johnny dropped his shorts to reveal a jockstrap.
Johnny strutted over, walked up between us, and faced Gary. Gary mouthed Johnny’s jockstrap. I buried my nose in his butt crack. It was sweet and musky from sweating but was otherwise clean. He obviously had prepared for the encounter. He pushed back against my face and I used my tongue to open him up. Gary whispered, “Yeah, Joe, that’s the way he likes it. He’s really hard now.”
Gary pulled Johnny’s seven-inch cock out of one side of the jockstrap and began sucking on it. I kept eating Johnny’s butt while I fumbled in my tool pouch for a condom and some lube. I stood up and dropped my boxers, kicking them to one side. Johnny bent over enough for me to push inside but not enough to interfere with Gary’s blow job.
I kissed Johnny’s back and licked the salty sweat from his shoulders, neck, and pits. A few moments later I whispered, “Are you ready?”
A squirming Johnny said, “Fuck, yeah!”
I massaged some lube into his butt and smeared a little on the condom. I held his triangular lats while I pushed in. He sighed, “Ahhhhhhhhh.”
We had thirty minutes for our lunch break, and I wanted to use every minute of it fucking Johnny. I made sure to fuck him slowly enough so as not to set off an early climax. I told Gary to take it easy on his end. Gary alternated between rubbing my legs and Johnny’s. I continued kissing and playfully biting Johnny’s shoulders while at times rubbing his torso or Gary’s head.
I pushed in as far as I could and stood still. Ga
ry pulled off of Johnny’s penis and twisted his head in between our legs, licking and biting at both my balls and Johnny’s, which were slammed up against each other. Gary slipped his tongue in between our nuts and played with the base of my cock. His bushy mustache made every nerve ending on my scrotum tingle.
We were all dripping with sweat, but it felt like a cool spring day. Gary could feel my groin start to quiver, and he went back to work on Johnny’s cock. I started fucking again, slowly at first, but with a gradually increasing pace, so much so, that Johnny grabbed Gary’s head to hold it still. The force of my thrusts jammed Johnny’s cock into Gary’s mouth with equal power.
I knew I could hold out no longer. I whispered, “Are you guys ready?”
Gary mumbled, “Mmm-hmm.”
Johnny moaned, “Yeah, I’m gonna explode.”
I pulled back to where the tip of my dick was barely still inside. Then I jammed it back in hard and fast. That was it. My body shuddered. My groin pulsed and I could feel Johnny’s load gunning for Gary’s throat. Gary was yanking at his own cock and shot up between my legs, coating my balls and the front of my thighs.
I pulled out and tossed the condom off to the side. Gary stood up and the three of us embraced. Our lips smashed together for a three-way kiss. I could taste Johnny’s salty-sweet cum on Gary’s lips. I said that I would like a turn at Johnny’s dick on the next round.
I put my boxers back on and strapped my tool belt around my waist. I spent the rest of the afternoon running conduit. I had two more compressors to hook up over the next two days.
Johnny made it a point to barricade off the steps around noon each day for the rest of the job. He brought a drop cloth we could lay out on the north side of the cooling tower. We tried almost every position imaginable.
On the last day of the project we took an hour and a half for lunch. All we had left was to finish picking up our tools. We fucked for most of our lunch break but saved enough time to stretch out on Johnny’s tarp. I watched thunderheads build in the sky for a late afternoon storm. We dressed, picked up our stuff, and shared one final embrace on the rooftop while heavy raindrops fell upon my brow.