Atie's on the Job

I had been watching my foreman, Mike Thompson, ever since I'd been hired on with the construction company as a flag girl three weeks before. He was, to my feverish mind, like a long, cool drink of water. He filled out his work denims beautifully, the hard muscles of his thighs showing through the rough fabric. Add to that a defined upper body (I was only guessing at that, but his t-shirts seemed molded to his pectorals), tousled, boyish blond hair beneath his white hard-hat, and the bluest eyes I'd ever seen, and I was in definite lust. He seemed reserved, though, and not at all flirtatious and chatty like the other foremen on the job.

He picked us up--all the flaggers, that is--every morning from the field office, and delivered us to our posts without a word. Often, throughout the day, he'd stop to replace a hand-held radio battery, or give a lift to the port-a-johns, and just like the morning rides, he was always silent. He didn't much look at us, either, just stared out the windshield. I think the only time I'd ever heard him talk was to the other foreman on the radio, or sometimes to equipment operators. Yep, strong, silent, and sexy as hell, that was Mike.

It was so hot out, I couldn't think. The a.m. radio newscast had forecast 34 degrees celsius for the day. I just wished I could enjoy a cold drink--maybe a beer--and sit down for a couple of minutes in the shade to relieve my sore feet. I sighed, pushed the loose strands of hair back up under my hard-hat, and swivelled my sign around, allowing the traffic that had been patiently waiting in front of me to pull out into the opposite lane.

When my line of cars had finally exhausted itself, I glanced back behind me down the tarmac, thumbed my radio, and asked Linda--my opposite number--if there was any traffic coming from her end of the lane closure. When she called back a negative, I squatted down and rocked forward onto the balls of my feet to give my cramped thighs a rest, balancing my sign across my knees. I kept my eyes open for approaching traffic, and took a long, deep drink from my water bottle.

"There's no sitting on the job," said a rough voice behind me, some minutes later. I jumped, dropping my sign in the process, and spilling my water over my jeans. My cheeks bright with embarrassment, I looked over my shoulder to see Mike a few feet behind me, leaning up against his truck.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, "I was, uh, just taking a quick moment to relax." My voice trailed off as I met his icy-blue stare. I couldn't afford to lose this job, what with student loans, and credit card debt. I could feel my whole body growing flushed with anxiety. He looked at me for a long, hard minute, and then abruptly jerked his thumb at the truck.

"Get in," Mike said. He walked around to the driver's side, leaned in, and grabbed his radio. As I took off my hard-hat and walked slowly towards the vehicle, my heart in my mouth, I could hear him calling someone else to come and take over my position. I was convinced that I had lost my job, for a five minute break from the godawful pain of standing on my feet for twelve long hours on the hottest day yet of the season. Hell, I hadn't even sat down, or left my position at the lane closure. Was the bastard really going to fire me? I was beginning to think that he wasn't quite so handsome after all.

I climbed up into the passenger side, feeling like I was going to cry. Mike started the engine, and as we pulled out from behind the pylons, I took a quick moment just to savour the air-conditioning that pumped from the vents. I might have just lost my job, but a blast of cool air wasn't wasted on me.

After ten minutes of silent driving, I ventured a quick look at his strong-featured face, all cheekbones and heavily-stubbled jaw line. It gave nothing away, so I decided to risk a question.

"Am I going to lose my job?" He seemed startled. Mike's eyebrows shot up his forehead, and he glanced over. After a couple of seconds, he started to smile.

"Is that what you thought, Katie," he drawled, "that I was going to fire you?" I nodded silently.

"No, I'm not getting rid of you. I just thought that you could use a break for more than a couple of minutes. We're going to the gas-station to get bottled water for the flaggers and the labourers." I sighed in relief, suddenly elated--not only was I not going to lose my job, but I had whole minutes to sneak sideways peeks at what had to be the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. I smiled, and leaned back into my seat, after adjusting the vents to blow more of the refreshingly cold air onto my overheated body.

After we'd stopped at the gas station in town, to fill up on diesel and six cases of bottled water, Mike pulled the truck back out towards the highway, but didn't take the exit for the construction site.

"Um, the site's back that way," I pointed out, hesitantly. "Did you miss the turn-off?" He shook his head, and grinned. I thought I might be going into shock. That was the second time I'd seen Mike smile in less than an hour. It might even have been an all-time record. Not to mention that I'd heard more words out of him in that time than I had in the whole three weeks that I'd worked for the construction company.

"No, I just don't feel like going back to work right away. Do you?" He said that last almost teasingly, I imagined.

"Oh, no," I replied quickly, "if we can take a couple of minutes longer, I'd be thrilled. It feels great to have the hard-hat off for a little while."

Suddenly, Mike veered off the highway, onto a small dirt track. It looked like a skidder-track, or an old logging road, overgrown from disuse. The big Ford truck bounced over the track with ease. Never taking his eyes from the ruts in front of the truck, Mike flipped the lid of the small cooler that sat between us. I could see four or five bottles of beer nestled in melting ice inside it. He must have heard my indrawn breath, because he gestured impatiently at the cooler.

"Are you going to open one for me, or not? Grab one for yourself, too. Go on, Katie," he urged. I needed no further convincing. The contents of that cooler looked like manna from heaven to my eyes, and dry throat.

"Oh," I said, " that's the best damn thing I've had all day. You must have read my mind." He only chuckled. The first swallow went down in one long, cool draught, emptying almost a third of the bottle that I held. After that, though, I slowed down, not wanting to catch a buzz in this odd situation with my foreman, especially as we were going to have to return to the site eventually. Not so for him, though. Half the contents of his bottle were gone in one gulp, and the other half in the second. As we pulled into a small clearing, he gestured at me.

"Open another one." I didn't like his peremptory tone, but did as he asked, and handed it over to him. We drank in silence for a little while, before he reached in the cooler and grabbed me a second beer. I shook my head and looked away out the window, but he grabbed my hand and gave it to me anyway, and opened a third for himself. He opened his door, and slid out of the truck without looking at me, calling back over his shoulder "C'mon, out you get."

I hopped out of the passenger seat, and walked around to perch on the big front bumper, watching him as he circled the small clearing in big rangy strides, pulling on his beer. Mike seemed anxious, somehow, and radiated nervous energy that I could feel coming off of his body in waves. It almost felt angry, to me, although I've never been that good at reading body language. He completed his circle and his third beer, and loped back to join me in leaning on the bumper. He hooked one hand into the belt loop of his jeans, and slid the other arm around my shoulders. Now I was feeling anxious. I didn't know what to make of his attention, and feared that the slightest movement on my part would provoke a response, any kind of response, that I wouldn't know how to handle.

We stayed like that for what felt like ages, but was probably only a few minutes, fifteen at the most, while I finished my second beer. The moment I'd finished my last swallow, he turned and grabbed the bottle from my hand, dropping it on the ground. Mike slid his hand, cool from the icy beer, up the back of my neck and into my hairline, never breaking eye-contact as he stared down at me. I shivered a little, in anticipation. This was playing out pretty close to each of the fantasies I'd had about the man almost every day for the last three weeks. Admittedly, in most of those day-dreams he'd asked me out on a dinner date, but hey--sometimes a girl can't afford to be picky. At least the detail of his hand tangled in my hair at the nape of my neck, slowly pulling at the elastic that held the blonde mass confined there--that was one of my favourite moments in my private thoughts. Mike dipped his head, and I could feel the rough graze of his stubble across my jaw as he bent to kiss my neck. No--not kiss--bite! I jerked in shock as I felt his hard white teeth close on tender skin. He laughed a little then, low in his throat, and the sharp pain melted away as he soothed it with soft little kisses. I relaxed, letting myself slide my hand up his chest, feeling the hard bunch of muscle beneath the soft jersey of his t-shirt. He grazed his hands across the front of my own work-shirt, and I could feel my nipples tightening beneath his palms, not to mention the other parts of me that were tightening just a little lower down. Mike worked his hands up under my shirt, and back up to my breasts under my bra. He cupped them for a moment, and then roughly pinched my nipples, twisting them savagely. I let out a sharp cry of surprise, and tried to jerk away, but found myself pinned by his hard body against the truck.

"Do you know how to suck, Katie-girl?" he murmured harshly in my ear, as I struggled against him, "Do you know how to swallow a man's cock, right down to his balls?" He pinned me with one arm against the fender, and snaked the other one down to unzip his jeans. Mike was grinding himself against me, and biting my neck.

"Jesus, Mike, stop," I said, shocked. "I don't want this. Please, lets just go back to work. I won't say anything." He pulled back from me, just a little ways.

"Katie, we're just taking a little break from work. All you have to do is suck me a little bit, and we'll head back to the site, I promise." He looked me in the eyes, and smiled a boyish smile. "Please? It's been so long, and you're so beautiful, and I just can't help it. I look at you every day at work, and dream about your green eyes and your blonde hair, and your mouth wrapped around me." He kissed the side of my neck again, softly, and I could feel myself melting back into his arms. I sighed.

"It's so rough in this industry, I forget how to treat a woman. It's just the boys and me, and I get so lonely for someone as beautiful and sweet as you are," he whispered imploringly, licking the lobe of my ear just a little, and pushing down on my shoulder. I was frightened, but not as much as I had been, and he did seem sincere. In a moment of sheer weakness, I submitted and slid to my knees. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the unbearable heat, maybe it was that the object of my fantasies was practically begging, or maybe it was a combination of all three, but I shifted his jeans a little lower on his hips and pulled his cock out. He wasn't wearing any underwear, which made it easier. He was big. Bigger than I had expected, and thick. I closed my eyes, and slid my tongue out to lick the tip of it. He tasted salty, and warm. I took a breath, and eased the head of his cock into my mouth. Now, don't get me wrong, I had never been a prude, but this wasn't something I was used to doing very often. More as a special occasion thing--birthdays, and such--for the boyfriends that I'd had, and there had only been two, from the time I was sixteen, to now, at twenty-three. I certainly wasn't prepared for what happened next, as he grabbed the back of my head, and thrust as deeply into my mouth as he could. I gagged, and attempted to spit him out, but Mike wasn't having it. He cradled the back of my head, and began thrusting lightly in and out of my lips. After a minute, I relaxed, and started trying to learn to breathe again. This wasn't so bad, I told myself.

"See, you don't mind it, do you, baby?" Mike whispered, teasingly. "You feel so good, Katie, I can tell you've done this before." He continued to whisper and moan, his language growing increasingly filthy. He called me his little whore, his cock-sucking slut, told me that he was going to shoot his cum all the way down to my belly. As he whispered, he began to press farther and farther into my mouth. I couldn't breathe! I tried to push him away, but he just got a firm grasp on my hair, and grabbed the hand with which I'd tried to push him back, and thrust himself into my throat. I was gagging for real, now, and making all sorts of disgusting noises, little gurgles and moans escaping from around the hard length forcing itself into my throat. I could feel his balls slapping against my chin as he grunted, and sawed himself back and forth. I told myself, swamped with feelings of humiliation and disgust, that I could take it; that he would be done, soon, if I could just hold on. I began to cry, whimpering around his cock.

"You whore, do you like sucking my dick? Swallow it, you dirty little bitch," he moaned. Just as my vision began to blur and grey around the edges, and I knew I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, Mike's cock tightened in my mouth.

"Get ready for it, baby, here it comes!" And with that, he began to spasm in my mouth, releasing jet after jet of salty fluid down my throat. I swallowed most of it, but a little spilled and dribbled down my chin.

Mike pulled back from me, lifting me bodily from where I'd been kneeling on the hard ground, and wrapped his arms around me, cradling me tenderly as I cried from shock, pain, and fear.

"Oh, sweetheart, that was so good. You were so good. I haven't felt like that in a long time, you made me feel so hot, darlin'. I didn't hurt you, did I? I didn't meant to hurt you," he said, slowly lifting my shirt and bending down to kiss my belly. He licked the skin all over my belly and breasts, moving my bra aside, until my confused crying slowed, and my breath began to come in short gasps. My head was spinning. I didn't know what was wrong with me--I felt dizzy, as though my head was floating ten feet off my shoulders. I lost the will to struggle as he unzipped my jeans and slid them down my legs, and off. He kissed the skin around my panty-line, breathing hotly over the cotton of my tiny pair of panties, and licking the dark shadow that bisected them. I stared down at the top of his blonde head, bobbing over my thighs and stomach, and relinquished the last of my self to him. I didn't lose my fear, but somehow couldn't summon the will, the enormous effort, to put up a fight. I wondered muzzily if there had been something in the beer. Mike hooked his fingers in the edges of my panties and began to drag those down, too, as he placed little feathery kisses over my pussy, pushing his tongue in between my lips to lap at my clit. I found myself jerking my hips up towards him, and the thought crossed the back of my mind that I'd gone completely crazy, but I couldn't seem to impose any order on my bucking body. I moaned, and leaned back on the hood of the Ford. He knelt before me, and pushed my legs apart, lifting one so that my foot rested on his shoulder, leg bent at the knee. He leaned into my pussy, and circled his tongue around my clit, over and over, and over again, for what seemed like an eternity, before suddenly thrusting his thumb up to lodge firmly in my cunt. It felt like my whole cunt was on fire, a slippery kind of fire, and with his thumb pressed into me, I could feel an electric shift in my body. It was the needed straw.

"Jesus, oh Jesus," I whispered, and came, thrusting wildly up towards his mouth, bucking like a bitch in heat.

"That's it, Katie-baby, give it all to me," he whispered against my pussy as I came, "give it all up." I shook, and moaned, and shivered until I thought I was broken. When I was finally done, he turned me around, arranging my hands flat up against the hood, and slightly bent at the waist, legs apart. Mike leaned into me from behind.

"Now, Katie, I want to fuck you. I'm still hard. Can you feel me?" I could feel him, like a steel bar pressed up against my ass. I nodded my head in a dreamy kind of way.

"Say it out loud, girl. Say that you can feel me, that you want me to fuck you like this." I nodded again. "Say it! Say please!" He ordered.

"I can feel you, Mike," I slurred, "and, and... I want you to fuck me like this, please." Satisfied, Mike eased his cock up between the folds of my cunt, and began to press his way firmly in. It felt so good--a different kind of good. Where his mouth was so soft, only a moment before, his dick was hard and filled me up. I pushed my ass back against his belly, only wanting him deeper. He laughed out loud, and grabbed my left arm, twisting it up behind my back, slapping my ass with his other hand.

"Oh, I knew you were going to be a good ride girl, from the first time I saw you, with those pretty titties, and your long legs," he said. I simply rested my face against the hood, and moaned, knowing that he was going to hurt me again. He fucked my like that for a bit, pausing every now and again to deliver a stinging blow to my ass, one cheek, and then the other. Inasmuch as I'd never admit it to anyone, I loved it. I came, again, whimpering against the hood of the truck, my cunt muscles grasping at Mike until he grunted, and pulled out of me. He pressed his whole weight against my back to keep me from struggling, and pulled my left arm up a little higher. I bit back a scream, and felt him part the cheeks of my ass to which he'd just delivered such a good spanking. Then I realized just what it was that he meant to do.

"No, Mike, no, not like that. Please, not like that," I begged him, "Please don't. I can't take you up there." He pressed his finger more firmly against the tight bud of my asshole, and positioned his dick.

"Katie, you begged me for it. You begged me to fuck you," he replied harshly. I couldn't believe the switch--one moment he wasn't exactly tender and gentle, but the next he was truly frightening and mean. I couldn't decide which character was the real Mike. Maybe they both were. "Well, darlin', now I'm going to fuck your ass. I'm going to rape your ass, and I'm going to love it, you'll be so damn tight. And it's probably going to hurt you, and after, I'll be sorry, but right now, I only got one thought on my mind. And that's rooting so hard into your shit-hole that your eyes bug out, and you scream and beg me to stop." With my juices on his dick as his only lubricant, he thrust forward savagely into my asshole, pushing the head of his cock past my tight ring. I screamed.

"That's it, you little cock-sucking whore. There's no-one to hear you, except me," Mike grunted in my ear, as he attempted to push his cock even further into my bowels. He grabbed my hair with his left hand--the one that wasn't holding my arm--pulled my head so that my back arched, and gave one wild thrust, burying himself in my ass. It was like fire. Nothing had ever hurt me so much before. It felt as though he must have fucked himself clear through to my throat, he was lodged so deep. I screamed a second time, and began to sob in earnest, as he screwed my back passage with long, slow strokes for what felt like hours. I begged him to stop, I pleaded, promised him anything he wanted, if only he would stop.

"I have what I want," he said, simply, and continued right on ploughing my ass till I thought I would die from the pain of it. After another five minutes of agony, he jerked, and told me he was going to come, and did I want it in my ass or my mouth? He reminded me to be polite and say 'please'.