Hard Hats

by Neil Plakcy

  Billy is my height, and I find myself standing nose to nose with him in the dim cavern. I open my mouth to lie, deny, and slam the closet door shut once and for all, but before I can get a single word out Billy traps my face in those big hands of his and plasters his lips to mine.

  Old habits die hard. I’ve spent too many years hiding who I am from the others, pretending to be someone I’m not. Instinctively, I push him away, my hands curling into hard fists, ready to plow one into his face. I’m breathing hard, and a war rages inside my head. I can’t deck the new guy—he’s Sonny’s kid. Plus, he’s right about me—I don’t want to fight him. I want to fuck him.

  Instead of punching Billy, I push him back against the wet rock wall, pinning him there, my hands splayed flat against his broad chest. I can feel his heart hammering under my palms. His muscles harden under my fingers as he tenses, ready to fight back, ready to do some damage.

  But something besides his muscles has grown hard, too. I can feel his cock as I lean against him, my body weight helping to hold him back against the wall. It bites into my groin like an iron poker. Every bit of my resolve bleeds out of me and I groan as I grind my crotch against his, rubbing our cocks together under the rough denim of our jeans. Smashing my mouth against his, I muffle the sound, my tongue pushing past his surprised lips.

  His mouth tastes cool and sweet from the Cokes, his tongue soft and warm. Bristly whiskers scrape my cheeks; the kiss is deep and wet. Coming alive between the wall and me, Billy’s hands pull at my shirt, jacking it free of my jeans. They slide up underneath the material, tracing the knobs on my spine. His fingers burn like fire, driving me crazy. I want more. Now. No turning back.

  “Fuck, Billy! You feel so good,” I whisper hoarsely. Got to keep our voices down, keep the moaning and groaning down to a minimum. Can’t let anyone in the main tunnel hear us.

  “Touch me,” he growls. I feel his teeth biting down on my shoulder through my shirt, hard enough to leave a mark. I can feel it all the way down to my toes.

  Sliding my hands around his hips, I cup the ass I’ve been dreaming about all morning. His butt is solid, his muscles clenched as I squeeze his cheeks in my palms. Pulling us together until there’s no air between our bodies, he’s close enough for me to feel his body heat through the fabric of our clothing.

  Not enough. I need skin-to-skin contact, need to feel his flesh burning under me. Tearing at his flannel shirt, I’m frustrated by the buttons. I’m too keyed up, too eager to bother wasting time unbuttoning them. Frantically, I rip it off over his head, dropping it carelessly onto one of the crates. Holding his arms above his head, I indulge myself in my earlier fantasy, dipping down to explore his hairy pit. His scent is strong, sweat laced with lust, and as I run my tongue through the forest of black hair it fills my mouth with the taste of man.

  Billy’s chest is furry, covered in short black curls that funnel into a thin line, creasing his stomach and snaking down under his waistband. His nipples are large, golden brown, and peaked into tight, whitened nubs. Bending, I take one between my teeth, nipping until he moans and presses down on my hard hat, urging me lower.

  “Suck me,” he orders. I’ve never been partial to taking orders from anyone; it goes against my grain. But in this instance, I’ll make an exception. I want him too badly to care about a bruise to my ego. Let him order me. Yes, sir. I hear and obey.

  It only takes me a moment to unhook his belt buckle and open his fly. Grabbing the waistband of both his jeans and his boxers, I wrench them down to his knees in one smooth movement. Freed at last, his cock slaps against my cheek, every bit as long and thick as I’d imagined it would be. I can smell his musk, feel the trail of wetness his dick leaves along my jaw.

  Unbuckling my belt, I free my own cock before the sticky precum that I can feel gathering on its head soaks through my underwear to my jeans.

  Billy’s cock has a large head, rosy red and perfectly shaped. His shaft is thick, heavily veined; his balls are swollen. Just as I’d suspected, Billy’s pubic hair nests his cock in a thatch of crisp black curls. Cupping his sac in my hand, feeling the weight of his balls in my palm, I open my mouth wide and go down on him, sucking him into the back of my throat.

  “Oh, fuck!” Billy hisses through his teeth. His hips rock, feeding me more of his length, almost more than I can take. Damn, but the boy is fucking gifted. My mouth is stuffed full; my tongue swirls over the fat head of his cock, lapping up his musky taste. My lips burn as they slide over his velvety skin, from root to tip and back again.

  It’s still not enough. I want to taste more of him. Releasing him, ignoring his grunt of protest, I grip his hips and urge him to face the wall. “Give me your ass,” I growl, finally giving an order of my own. He obeys, bracing his arms against the slick rock wall and spreading his legs as wide as his jeans, still bunched up at his knees, will allow.

  Oh, but his ass is a thing of beauty. Rounded, firm young flesh, dusted with black hair that runs thicker at the crack, it’s an ass made for licking, for biting, for fucking, and I want desperately to do it all, and all at the same time. Given the circumstances however, I’m forced to hurry things along. Lunchtime must be almost over, and we wasted a lot of time eating sandwiches instead of each other.

  My fingers pry his asscheeks apart, revealing his dark, cinnamon-colored hole. Ringed in dark fur, his anus clenches as I exhale a warm breath over it. “God, what an ass,” I moan before flicking my tongue out for my first taste. His heady, pungent flavor fills my mouth with that first quick lick, and I savor it for a moment before my tongue darts in again to explore the ridged texture of his asshole.

  Billy bends over farther, giving me better access. His hand is moving over his cock, jerking off as I tongue-fuck him. My lips pull at his asshole, as if I’m trying to suck him inside out. I’m driving him crazy, I can tell.

  “Put your finger in my asshole, Dale,” he begs, wiggling that fine fleshy butt against my face. “Fuck me!”

  Oh, I want to fuck him all right. I want to slide my cock up his tight ass so deeply that it brushes the roof of his mouth. I want to fuck him balls deep, feel my hip bones pound against the soft flesh of his ass. Instead, I push my finger into him, groaning as the fiery, silken walls of his anus mold themselves around it. “So fucking tight,” I moan, wrapping the fingers of my left hand around my cock.

  I slide my finger into him repeatedly, up to the knuckle, my other hand mirroring the rhythm over my dick. A little spit lubes him nicely, and I push another finger in next to the first. Billy’s ass has a death grip on my fingers, making me want more of me inside him. A two-finger fuck is better than nothing, but I’d love to work my whole hand into that tight space, fist-fuck him up to my elbow. Not enough time now for anything but what I’ve already got going. Besides, I’m going to cum soon. I can feel my balls winding up for the pitch, ready to shoot.

  So is Billy. “I’m gonna cum,” he says, his voice hoarse and throaty.

  I jump to my feet, slipping my fingers out of his ass on the way up. I want to watch him cum, watch him watching me. I want to jerk him off as he paints my belly with his juice, and I want the favor returned in spades. I want a lot, but I don’t think Billy will mind my demands in the least.

  Belly to belly, our hands wrapped around each other’s cocks, we jerk each other in fast, strong strokes. My breath is hitching now; I can feel my orgasm winding its way through my scrotum, setting my belly and balls on fire. Then it’s here, my teeth grinding and my muscles contracting as I cum hard and fast, thick white ribbons spurting over Billy’s hand and stomach.

  “Oh, God! I’m cumming!” Billy screams, his voice tight and rising several octaves higher with each syllable. I jerk the last drop from his cock, still breathing hard from my climax as Billy reaches the end of his own.

  We stand together for a few minutes, hard hats clanked against one another, waiting for our breathing and heartbeats to slow down to normal. God, I hope nobody heard us, especially Billy’s last shriek. T
he boy’s a screamer, and while I do love men who let me know that I’m working it, vocalizing is a bad thing when we’re on the job. Lunchtime quickies will have to be kept quiet—maybe next time I’ll gag him. The thought is intriguing, and I almost wish he hadn’t drained me so completely. I wouldn’t mind giving a ball gag a try on Billy-boy. Doesn’t really matter. I don’t have the time or the equipment now anyway. Maybe I’ll pack a little something extra in my lunch box tomorrow.

  That there will be a next time goes without saying. There will be, no doubt about it. There’s no fucking way on earth that I can work side by side with Billy and not want to fuck him blind at lunchtime. Dinnertime. Maybe breakfast. The thought makes me smile.

  “There’s the whistle,” I say, breaking away from him, pulling up my pants. We dress in hurry. I don’t want Billy to be late from lunch on his first day on the job.

  “Dale…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m gonna like sandhogging,” Billy says with a cheeky grin. “The fringe benefits rock.”

  I laugh, swatting his ass. “Come on, kid. Get a move on. We’re going to be late.”

  By the time we reach the end of the side tunnel, we’ve both got our game faces back on. Just two more sandhogs back from lunch, ready to bust our butts doing what we do best.

  Yeah, I think, watching Billy heave the heavy sledgehammer up over his shoulder and bring it crashing down on a large piece of granite, he’s going to do just fine. He’s a sandhog. It’s in his blood.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  GAVIN ATLAS currently lives in Houston, Texas. He has been published in Honcho and his story “The Last Adventure of Blast Boy” will appear in Superqueeroes (Haworth Press). His e-book Claiming Danny is available from Forbidden Publications. He would like to thank wonderful handy-bear Robin Vieno for his invaluable aid with construction work authenticity. Gavin also thanks his boyfriend, John, for being a terrific fellow. Gavin can be reached at www.GavinAtlas.com.

  LAURA BACCHI writes erotica and erotic romance. Her stories can be found at Ruthie’s Club, Loose-Id, Samhain, and Amber Allure, and she is a member of ManLove Romance. For more about Laura and her work, please visit www.laurabacchi.com.

  A native Californian, BEARMUFFIN lives in San Diego with two leather bears in a stimulating ménage à trois. His erotica has appeared in many gay publications. He now writes for Honcho and Torso. His work is featured in several anthologies from Alyson and Cleis Press.

  DALE CHASE has been happily writing male erotica for nearly a decade, with more than one hundred stories published in various magazines and anthologies including translation into German. Her first literary effort appeared in the Harrington Gay Men’s Fiction Quarterly. Her collection of Victorian gentlemen’s erotica, The Company He Keeps, will be published by Haworth Press. A native Californian, Chase lives near San Francisco and is at work on a novel and a collection of ghostly male erotica.

  DALTON is a writer and sexual adventurer who lives very happily with two longtime companions in the upper Midwest. A fan of all things sexual, Dalton has experienced everything from kinky and gay to plain vanilla and straight as well as all fetishes, kinks, lifestyles, and pleasures. “I feel that to be truly human a person must fully express themselves in a sexual manner. As a person grows and changes, their sexuality must also and so continuing exploration is critical to a fulfilled life.” A trained journalist, Dalton’s work can be found on the Web and in print going back to the late 1980s under a variety of names.

  LANDON DIXON’s writing credits include Options, Beau, In Touch/Indulge, Three Pillows, Mandate, Torso, Honcho, Men, Freshmen, and stories in the anthologies Straight? Volume 2, Friction 7, Working Stiff, Sex by the Book and Ultimate Gay Erotica 2005 and 2007.

  RYAN FIELD is a thirty-five-year-old freelance writer who has had many short stories published in anthologies and collections.

  He lives and works in both Los Angeles and Bucks County, PA, and is currently working on a novel.

  JEFF FUNK has written hundreds of choral works published by Warner Bros. Publications, with more than 1.7 million copies in print. His stories appear in Dorm Porn 2, Tales of Travelrotica for Gay Men Volume 2, My First Time Volume 5, Ultimate Gay Erotica 2008, and the forthcoming Superqueeroes. As an actor, he appears as Crawling Man in the horror film Return in Red. He lives in Auburn, Indiana.

  T. HITMAN is the nom-de-porn for a full-time professional writer whose work routinely appears in a number of national magazines and fiction anthologies. “Sooty” is an homage to his home, a small bungalow set on a large plot of land in a rural corner of New England, which he and his amazing partner of the past half-decade rescued from a diabolical developer. The house has been restored, and his partner, who swings a mean hammer, looks hella hot in his trusty tool belt.

  WILLIAM HOLDEN has been writing gay erotica for more than six years and has served as fiction editor for RFD magazine. Currently residing in Atlanta, he is by day a librarian specializing in LGBT issues. He continues to spend his evenings and weekends hanging out in gay clubs around the country gathering ideas for his next story. He can be contacted at wholden2@mac.com.

  DAVID HOLLY’s stories have been printed in a variety of gay erotic publications, including Guys, First Hand, Manscape and Hot Shots. His work has also appeared in Dorm Porn 2, the second volume of Travelrotica for Gay Men, My First Time and other anthologies.

  KIERNAN KELLY lives in the southeastern United States, writing m/m erotic romance while drinking margaritas served by thong-clad cabana boys. Okay, in reality, Kiernan lives chained to a temperamental Macintosh, drinking coffee and writing m/m erotic romance while dreaming of thong-clad cabana boys. Sigh. You can find a complete listing of Kiernan’s work at her website www.kiernan-kelly.com, along with several free reads and giveaways.

  BARRY LOWE is a Sydney writer whose plays have been produced worldwide including Homme Fatale: The Joey Stefano Story, The Extraordinary Annual General Meeting of the Size-Queen Club, The Death of Peter Pan, Seeing Things and Rehearsing the Shower Scene from Psycho. He also cowrote the screenplay to Violet’s Visit. His short stories have appeared in The Mammoth Book of New Gay Erotica, Flesh and the Word, Best Date Ever, Boy Meets Boy, and others. He is also the author of Atomic Blonde: The Films of Mamie Van Doren.

  AARON MICHAELS is a short fiction writer whose work has appeared in numerous publications, including Animal Attraction published by Torquere Press in August of 2007 and Screaming Orgasms and Sex On the Beach edited by Shanna Germain for Pretty Things Press.

  STEPHEN OSBORNE has had stories published in many anthologies, including Best Date Ever, Dorm Porn 2, My First Time Volume 5, Travelrotica for Gay Men 2 (all available from Alyson Books), and Unmasked, an erotic superhero anthology from Starbooks Press. A former improvisational comedian, he now resides in Indianapolis with two cats and Jadzia the Wonder Dog. He’s been known to go to parties and make out with straight guys. Hey, they started it.

  G. RUSSELL OVERTON is a historical researcher for a consulting firm in Lansing, Michigan. He has produced a number of works, both fiction and nonfiction, has two novels in pre-publication, and was a contributor to Paws and Reflect: Exploring the Bond Between Gay Men and Their Dogs. His fields of study in history include pre-Revolutionary Russia and Native Americans in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. His fictional style is to create romantic adventure, unbounded by the dictates of political and cultural agendas, for readers of gay and lesbian literature. Contact him at ro1898@yahoo.com.

  ROB ROSEN is the author of Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, and the forthcoming Haworth Press novel, Divas Las Vegas. His short stories have appeared in such noted anthologies as: Mentsh, I Do/I Don’t: Queers on Marriage, Best Gay Love Stories 2006, Truckers, Best Gay Love Stories: New York City, Best Gay Romance, Superqueeroes, My First Time: Volume 5, Son of PORN!, Best Gay Love Stories: Summer Flings, Ultimate Gay Erotica 2008, and Best Gay Romance 2008. His erotic fiction can often be found in MEN, Freshmen, and [2] magazine
s. Please visit www.therobrosen.com.

  A. STEELE has written for Torquere Press, Starbooks Press, and Ruthie’s Club.

  LOGAN ZACHARY is a mystery writer living in Minneapolis, MN. Growing up watching “Dark Shadows” instead of taking his afternoon nap, he quickly found the world of books. The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew grew into Agatha Christie and Stephen King. He is an avid collector of signed books and a devoted movie fan. His two dogs keep him busy when not writing, reading, or enjoying a good or even a bad movie. He can be contacted at LoganZachary2002@yahoo.com.

  ABOUT THE EDITOR

  NEIL PLAKCY is the author of the mystery novels Mahu, Mahu Surfer, and Mahu Fire, and coeditor of Paws and Reflect: Exploring the Bond Between Gay Men and Their Dogs. His erotica has been featured in many anthologies, including Men Seeking Men, My First Time 2, Travelrotica for Gay Men, Best Gay Love Stories: New York City, Best Gay Romance, Treasure Trail, Cowboys, Hot Cops, Ultimate Undies, and Fast Balls.

  Copyright 2008 by Neil Plakcy.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.