Pinewood Builders

(Sorry for the mistake in the last chapter guys. I forgot to add my transition of them walking back to Oscars)

Previous Chapter:

As our laughter subsided, I became acutely aware of Wells next to me, his cock still out and semi-hard. Our eyes met, a moment of tension crackling between us.

"We should probably stop winding him up now," I said.

Wells nodded, ""Probably, but first lets send him one of your arse."

Chapter 2

I hesitated, the request taking me by surprise. But the whiskey had lowered my inhibitions and I found myself saying. "Alright, fuck it," as I climbed on the bed and go on all fours, shimmying down my jeans down my arse.

"Thatta boy, Osc!" he laughed snatching up his phone and positioning it for the shot, "Hold your cheeks apart."

I reached back and did as he said, my heart was pounding out of my chest, even though it was just a prank.

"Got it!" Wells exclaimed triumphantly. He showed me the photo, I was surprised to see the curve of my back and my pink hole peeking through a frame of dark hair. I felt a flutter of excitement in my stomach seeing myself like that.

...

I woke up the next morning, my head pounding and a mouth that tasted like death. I groaned, rolled over and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Wells passed out in his boxers on top of the duvet. Memories of the night before came flooding back - the pub, the prank texts, the dirty photos. Oh God, the photos.

I crept out of bed, careful not to wake Wells, and stumbled to the kitchen. I downed a glass of water and popped a couple paracetamol, leaning heavily against the counter. My mind raced as I thought about what we'd done.

I flumped myself down on the sofa and tried to recall the end of the night.

I remembered Wells getting me to take another picture saying, "Come on, Osc, just one more pic. Let's really give John something to wank over!"

Giggling drunkenly, I flipped onto my back and pulling my jeans off.

"Hold yourself open for me, mate. Really give him a good view," he had instructed.

Now, in the sober light of day, I felt a confusing mix of emotions swirling inside me. I felt sick at the thought of facing John after our prank.

Wells woke an hour later, we didn't talk about last night, he thanked me for letting him stay and quickly left. Great I'd fucked things up with him too.

...

John picked me up like always on Monday morning at 7. I was sheepish, a knot in my stomach as I thought about whether or not to come clean. I couldn't meet his eyes, mumbling a quiet "Morning" as I buckled my seatbelt. John raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, instead launching into his usual chatter about the day ahead. I nodded along, only half-listening, my mind still reeling from the events of Friday night.

We arrived at the site and I immediately sought out Wells, needing to talk about what happened. I found him by the cement mixer, "Hey," I said, keeping my voice low. "I wanted to text you about Friday night-"

Wells held up a hand, stopping me. "I know, mate. It was a stupid prank. I looked back at what we sent and realised we got carried away." He looked genuinely guilty, his usual bravado gone. "I feel like a right tosser. John's a good bloke, he don't deserve that."

We both fell silent, around us, the site buzzed with activity - the whir of power tools, the clank of scaffolding, the shouts of the other workers.

As I hauled bricks and mixed mortar, my mind kept drifting back to those photos - Wells and John's dicks, the sight of my own hole on display. I felt a confusing mix of shame and...something else.

The day dragged on, the sun beating down on us as we worked. Wells and I orbited each other, always within sight but never quite connecting, both lost in our own heads. I was annoyed at myself, I'd fucked up this friendship I was forming with Wells and had been a prick to John.

...

As the workday drew to a close, everyone started packing up their tools and heading for their vans, I helped load the tools into John's vans, keeping my eyes down, avoiding his gaze before climbing into the front watching as the others drove off.

He pulled himself into the drivers seat and looked at me, "Alright, out with it. What's been going on with you today? You and Wells have been acting strange all day."

I avoided his gaze. "It's nothing, really. Just a rough weekend, you know how it is."

John stared at me, clearly not buying it. "You guys have a fight?"

I shook my head. "Oscar, I know when something's up. I can't force you to tell me, but I might be able to help you."

I felt a lump form in my throat, the guilt and shame overwhelming me. I knew I had to come clean, even if it meant facing the consequences.

"John, we... I did something really stupid and you're gonna be really fucked off."

He raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet, waiting.

I took a deep breath, "On Friday night, Wells and I... we saw you on Grindr. We were drunk and thought it'd be a laugh to message you. Those pictures... it was us."

John's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn't speak, the silence in the van grew thick and uncomfortable.

"I'm so sorry," I continued, my voice cracking. "We were drunk and stupid. We never meant to take it that far."

John let out a long, slow breath. "You're right. That was stupid." His voice was calm, but I could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface. "Do you have any idea how that feels? To think someone is interested in you, but it turns out it was just two straight pricks?"

I felt my face burning with shame. "I know. We both know we were arseholes. There's no excuse."

John shook his head, "You know, I haven't gotten any action in ages. I really thought I was in for a winner there. Do you know how hard it is to put yourself out there in your forties especially when you're Bi."

"I wish I could take it back."

He waved off my apology, with resignation. "What's done is done. Just... don't do something like that again. To anyone."

I nodded vigorously, desperate to make things right. "Is there any way I can make it up to you? I feel awful."

John glanced at me, "Right now, I just want to go home and forget this whole thing happened."

I nodded, my mind racing for a way to make amends. Before I could think it through, the words tumbled out of my mouth: "I could... I could suck your dick. Right here, right now. To prove how sorry I am."

The moment the words left my lips, I felt a surge of adrenaline course through my body. My heart pounded in my chest as I realised what I'd just offered.

John turned to face me fully, his blue eyes searching my face. "Oscar, you don't have to do that. That's not... It's fine. We'll just forget about it."

My mind reeled at the implications of what I'd said, and found myself leaning closer.

"I think- I think I want to," I said softly. "Please John. Let me make it up to you."

John's face softened from annoyed to briefly confused before a small smirk played at his lips. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly unzipped his work shorts. He pushed the fabric aside, revealing grey boxer briefs underneath. With a quick glance around to ensure we were alone, he tugged them down too. His cock sprang free, already half-hard. It was thick, with foreskin covering the head. I leaned closer and with trembling fingers, reached out and wrapped my hand around the base. The silky skin felt hot against my palm.

I found myself face-to-face with his cock. It was thick and veiny, curving slightly upward. As I pulled back his foreskin a bead of precum glistened at the tip. I wrapped my fingers firmly around the base, I could smell him, the musky scent of a day spent working in the sun.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned in and tentatively licked the tip, it was salty and I found myself seeking out the taste, licking down his length, his thick pubes ticking my nose.

"That's it, lad. Put it in your mouth," John instructed.

I parted my lips and took the tip inside, the feel of his silky skin on my tongue was unexpected. My jaw stretched as I slid further down his length. John placed a hand on the back of my head, gently guiding me.

I did my best in the awkward space, alternating bobbing my head awkwardly and lapping at his cock with strokes of my tongue. Spit leaked from the corners of my mouth, I worked to take him deeper-trying not to gag.

"Fuck yeah, you're doing great. So bloody hot," John panted, thrusting shallowly into my inexperienced mouth.

I gagged a bit as he hit the back of my throat but didn't pull off. I was determined to make him feel good, to prove myself. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder, my hand pumping what I couldn't fit inside.

"Bloody hell, Oscar! I'm close..." John warned through clenched teeth.

I could feel John's cock throbbing on my tongue, his balls tightening as he neared his peak. I pulled my mouth off, keeping my fingers around his slick shaft and pumping vigorously. I marvelled at the silky smooth skin sliding over his glands. John's hips bucked as he thrust into my fist, chasing his impending release.

The first spurt of cum shot out with impressive force, splattering across the steering wheel in thick, pearly ropes. I watched in awe as I continued to stroke him through his orgasm, jet after jet pulsed from his slit, spraying the dash, as the scent of his spend filled the van, mingling with our sweat and heavy breaths.

I milked the last drops from his softening cock, his chest heaving as he came down from his high. He gazed at the mess with a dazed, satisfied expression. "Bloody hell, Oscar," he panted, "That was one hell of an apology."

I grinned sheepishly, wiping spit from my chin, "So, we're good then?"

John chuckled breathlessly and nodded. "More than good, lad. But you're cleaning this up." -gesturing to the cum-splattered interior of the van.

He tucked himself away and started the van, chuckling as I wiped down the steering wheel and dashboard.

As we drove, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to conceal my rock-hard erection straining against my work shorts-maybe I should start wearing underwear to work.

John glanced over, "You alright there, Oscar?"

"I-I'm fine. Just, uh, processing everything." I replied the tase of his cum still on my tongue.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Relax, lad. It's all good. Though I have to admit, I'm curious about those pictures you sent. Which ones were you and which were Wells?"

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "God, I was hoping you'd forgotten about those."

"Not likely," John chuckled. "Come on, spill. Whose cock was that?"

"That was Wells," I admitted, peeking through my fingers. "The, erm, arse shots were me."

John raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "I knew it. You've got quite the peachy bum on you. No wonder I was so keen."

We turned onto my street, the familiar row of terraced houses coming into view. John pulled up outside my flat, "Thanks for the ride," I said, my hand on the door handle. "And, um, thanks for being so cool about everything."

John smiled, "No worries, lad. It's all water under the bridge now." He paused, then added with a wink, "Though if you ever want to make it up to me again, you know where to find me." I felt my cheeks flush as I climbed out of the van.

I took the stairs two at a time covering the obscene wet patch on my shorts as I fumbled with my keys, once inside I leaned against door, my heart racing. I couldn't believe what I'd just done. But my dick was aching for release.

I kicked off my dusty work boots as I cut across the kitchen to the bedroom, I shed my socks, shorts and t-shirt across the furniture as I crossed my room to the bathroom.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, cheeks red beneath the dust from the day, my cock was rock hard. I rubbed my hand over it cupping my balls and bringing it to my face to inhale. The musky scent reminded me of John. I braced one hand against the tiled wall, the other wrapping around my throbbing shaft. My hips bucked as I gave myself a firm stroke, thinking of his cock on my tongue, the salty taste of his cum.

I worked my hand faster, twisting my wrist on the upstroke the way I liked it. My balls drew up tight against my body as with a strangled shout, I came harder than I ever had before. Thick ropes of cum splattered against the floor as my orgasm ripped through me, my knees nearly buckling from the intensity. I continued to stroke myself through the aftershocks, milking every last drop until I was completely spent.

As I came down from my high, I climbed into the shower and leaned heavily against the wall, letting the warm water wash away the evidence of my release.

I stepped out of the shower, drying quickly before heading still-naked into the living room. The cool air raised goosebumps on my damp skin as I sank onto the sofa. I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and called Wells.

"Alright, Osc?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah, mate. Listen, I erm talked to John about... you know. Friday night."

"Shit. How'd he take it?"

"He was pretty pissed at first, not gonna lie. But I think we're good now."

"Seriously? How'd you manage that?" Wells sounded shocked.

I shifted on the sofa, suddenly aware of my nakedness.. "Oh, you know. I just... apologised. Promised it wouldn't happen again. That sort of thing."

"And that worked? Just like that?"

I chewed my lip, "Well, not exactly. I mean, I had to grovel a bit. But he's a decent bloke, realised we were being idiots and came around eventually."

"Thanks man, I've been feeling crap all day. But ah, are we okay?"

I laughed nervously, "I hope so, I feel like we've had such a laugh so I hope we can still be mates."

"Defiantly, can I come round tomorrow? We can grab some food, watch a movie?"

I hesitated, "Yeah! Sounds great! See you tomorrow."

I hung up and made some dinner, as I got into bed I felt a sense of relief. Sucking John off was a small price to pay to keep the friendships I was building.

....

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