Mike the Mechanic

At twenty-four I worked as a parts-runner for a truck shop that serviced rigs for a nearby lumber mill. I spent most of my time fetching parts, sweeping the shop and doing miscellaneous tasks. The shop, with three pull-through bays and some office space was relatively small and filled with the usual clutter of tools, work benches and 50-gallon drums.

Classic rock bellowed from an old stereo, resting on top of Mike's beat up toolbox. Mike, one of the day-shift mechanics, was a medium framed man in his early forties with short black hair and intense hazel eyes. A well-trimmed mustache covered his upper lip and extended down the sides of his mouth to a chiseled jaw. His smile never failed to brighten my mood and fuel an inferno of lustful thoughts. I assumed he was straight; suppressing my impulses to protect our working relationship.

Summer months in the shop were stifling. On this day all six bay doors were open in a vain attempt to channel a nonexistent breeze. The useless ceiling fans pushed the hot air around, providing little relief.

During the hottest days Mike would often open the zipper on his coveralls to let some air in. He always wore a white tank beneath, hiding what I imagined was a muscular chest adorned with hair the same color as that amazing mustache.

I returned to the shop after fetching parts Mike needed to complete his current repair. He was working behind the open hood of a Kenworth tractor, wedged in between the out-turned tire and frame. A storm of obscenities echoed through the shop as Mike's wrench slipped, bashing his knuckles into hard steel. His wrench clattered, bouncing across the concrete as I rounded the open hood. His shirtless back, glistening with sweat, halted me in my tracks.

He had lowered the top of his coveralls to his waist and tied the empty arms around to hold them up. His white tank was torn and tossed over the rig's steering shaft. His skin, covered with sweat and grease, highlighted well-defined muscles as he bent to retrieve his tool. I watched him, mouth open, until he realized I was there and turned to accept the parts. His chest was covered with black hair, drenched in sweat, beautiful and intoxicating. He had an old scar above his left peck and a thin trail of hair leading all the way down, disappearing below his belt buckle.

I handed him the parts but continued looking at his naked torso for just a moment too long. When I finally met his eyes, he peered right back with a wide, shit-eating grin. I shifted awkwardly, moving to walk away when he grabbed his torn tank and tossed it to me.

"Here, get rid of this for me," he said.

I snatched it out of the air and hurried to the shop's locker room. I knew I'd been caught. He knew he'd caught me, but he wasn't disgusted or pissed-off. He looked amused, if not pleased. I pushed the door open and sat on the bench below my locker. Taking a breath, I looked down at the tank in my right hand. It was soaked with sweat and stained with grease from whatever had torn it.

This piece of cloth had been where I longed to be; wrapped around that sexy man, basking in his body heat and soaking up his scent. I pressed the cloth into my face and inhaled deeply. Fuck, I was so turned on.

"I have to stop. Can't do this here," I thought.

Opening my locker, I threw the tank in and closed it again. Composing myself with a splash of cold water, I returned to the shop.

Cleaning, I stole glances when Mike wasn't looking. I wanted to burn his image into my memory; not knowing if I would have this chance again. A few hours past and Mike finished his work on the tractor. He signed the work order, reviewed a second and entered the locker room.

Minutes later the door opened, and he stepped out again. He looked as if he'd soaked his hair under the tap and wiped his face. His coveralls were pulled back up over his shoulders, but the zipper was still down, just above his navel and showing hints of hair but hiding his belt and jeans. He looked up and met my gaze, giving me another broad smile. Horrified, a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Did he know I kept his tank? I didn't throw it away; the empty trashcan would attest to it."

Sensing my fear, his face softened as he picked up some keys and walked back to the truck. Climbing into the cab, he gestured for me to take the other seat as the Cummins engine thundered to life. After a brief hesitation I ran to the passenger door, pulled on the handle and opened it up. Hoisting myself in and quickly slamming it shut as Mike blasted the horn and reversed out of the bay.

"I need to park this one and grab another. Since you were just gawking, you clearly have time to help me out," he said with that grin.

"Thought I was being subtle."

"Like a whore in church," he replied, laughing. Embarrassed, I turned a little pink.

"Don't worry about it" he said, as he pulled the truck into its spot and killed the engine.

We got out and locked it up. The second truck was at the far end of the main yard. It was a long-haul rig with an extended frame and sleeper. These were used to pull fifty-three-foot cargo vans and flatbeds across the country.

As we walked together, passing one empty trailer after another. Something about him was different, it took me mere seconds to realize what it was. The zipper of his coveralls had been lowered. Where his belt buckle should have been, there was more dark fuzz. No jeans, no briefs, just the hair above what was obviously now his freely swinging dick; hidden by the last couple inches of closed zipper. I swear I could see it moving back and forth, caressing the fabric of is coveralls.

Knowing that he was entirely naked under them sent blood rushing to my groin making my shorts, instantly, too tight. I reached down to adjust and make a little space.

"Easy man, we have work to do," he said, glancing down at the bulge in my hand.

We arrived at the truck, its trailer detached and set back a few feet. I walked around to get in as Mike climbed into the driver's seat and rolled down his window. I did the same, venting the unbearable heat.

His zipper was now bottomed out. The fine hairy trail expanded and then stopped abruptly as it met the base of his large dick, its business end still hidden. I was completely aroused and wanted so badly to reach over, pull it out and stroke it. But the look in his eyes, and straight lips beneath his mustache made it clear that "we have work to do". The sadistic fucker was toying with me. I was hard as stone and wanted him more than I could say, and he knew it.

He started the engine and we sat for a few seconds, waiting for the tanks to fill with air. The pressure normalized with a loud hiss; Mike released the parking brake and pulled us onto the main road.

For five minutes we drove. He was silent, spending the first half of the drive listening, accelerating, braking and listening some more.

I just watched him, wind rushing through his window, billowing the cloth around his exposed chest and blowing his fur in frenetic waves. I shuddered as I daydreamed about pulling those coveralls off and entangling my naked body with his, writhing and fucking into complete exhaustion. Then falling asleep in his arms; our body hair matted with cum and dripping with sweat.

Mike, having finally come to some conclusion about the needed repairs, turned us around and headed back toward the shop. On the way back, his smile returned as he studied me with hungry eyes. I took this as a good sign, lowering the zipper on my coveralls. Reaching down, I began to rub my hard dick through my jeans.

His smile widened and his cock twitched and pressed against his coveralls. Holding the wheel with his left, his right hand entered the gap at his chest and caressed the hair. He pinched his left nipple before continuing down, over his abs and stomach, then to his groin. Reaching below the zipper, he grabbed his cock and tugged on it gently.

Enthralled, I watched, willing him to pull it out. As if reading my mind, his hand pulled back freeing his large prick from confinement. This sexy man was gifted. It was easily eight inches, cut and beautifully formed.

A small drop of clear fluid emerged from the end. Dabbing it with his middle finger, he reached over and offered it to me. Without hesitation I wrapped my lips around and licked it clean. His hand carried the musky scent of his sweaty groin. I inhaled, savoring it until he pulled away and returned his hand to the wheel.

The truck slowed and Mike turned us into the overflow lot. The lot, full of parked trailers, was as far from the shop as possible, yet still on the grounds. He drove to the back row of trailers and reversed in, out of sight, between two empty vans. My heart was racing as he set the brake.

"Take those off," he said, gesturing to my clothes with a nod and that shit-eating grin on his lips.

I stood up in front of the sleeper and quickly removed my coveralls, work boots, and socks as Mike killed the engine. I dropped my jeans, turned and sat in the sleeper. Mike stood and pulled the privacy curtains over the front window, leaving the side windows uncovered for air.

He turned toward me as I began to take my shirt off. Reaching out he grasped my hands, stopping me. He leaned in and kissed me, holding my head with his left hand and pressing his lips firmly against mine. I became lost in that moment, oblivious to everything but his kiss, until he pulled back, lifting my shirt over my head.

He rubbed my erection through my shorts, damp with sweat and my own natural lube. I could no longer resist; I reached out and held his beautiful cock. Beginning to stroke, I smeared pre-cum down the long shaft. I savored the hefty feel; watching the bliss written in his face as I gently slid my fist back and forth along its full length. With a quick motion, he grabbed my hand and pulled away. I could tell by the sudden change in his expression that I had brought him to the edge.

He reached down with both hands and placed them on my waist. I shuddered as his hands touched my naked skin. In that same motion, he slipped his strong fingers beneath the waistband and slid my shorts off. My dick was free for the first time, he watched with those intense eyes as it snapped back slapping my stomach.

I moved back into the sleeper to give him room. He loosened his boots, kicked them off and removed his socks. Pulling his well-muscled arms from the top of his coveralls he let them drop to the cluttered floor. For the first time, I could fully appreciate Mike's rugged physique.

Completely naked, he crawled in, straddled me and lowered his body against mine. Gazing into my eyes and reaching down between our bodies, he stroked our dicks together, lubricating them with our pre-cum and sweat.

I placed my hands on his firm ass, pulling close, and grinding our bodies together. The sensation of my hard dick sliding against his and engulfed in his strong fist sent my brain spinning. I wanted this feeling to go on forever. Leaning down and kissing the side of my face he whispered into my ear.

"I want you to fuck me."

Sweat glistened on his skin and rolled down his torso as he sat back up, still grinding gently. The shit-eating grin was now mine as I imagined granting his request.

"OK stay on top, you'll be able to control how fast and deep; you can pull off if it's too painful," I said.

He gave me a brief look of indignation as he shifted moving my dick behind, letting it rest against his tight ass. He spit in his hand for a little more lubrication. Rubbing it on his middle three fingers he pushed them into his asshole. He jockeyed them around inside for several seconds, lubricating and loosening it up. Pulling them out, he grabbed my dick and lubed it up with more spit.

Lifting himself up, he centered over my dick and settled gently against it. At first, his tight ass refused to let me in. He paused, took a deep breath and relaxed his sphincter. Trying again, with a quick pop, my cock slid in.

He stopped for a second to relax a little more, then carefully settled slowly down onto me. A low, intense growl came from his throat as a mix of pleasure and pain assaulted his senses. I took time to appreciate the sensation of being deep inside him. We were one; hot, sweaty, indulging our most primal instincts.

He began to move up and down slowly as the pain in his face transformed into pleasure. He increased his pace, and I began thrusting back up to meet him. His rigid dick bounced against my stomach oozing shiny threads linking our writhing bodies. Grabbing it, I spread the slick, clear liquid down his shaft. I stroked it slowly as Mike's face contorted in waves of ecstasy; his breathing turning ragged and heavy.

Sitting up, I held his muscular torso and rolled us over, keeping myself planted firmly inside him. I lifted his left leg up on to my shoulder and began pounding his ass with deep, powerful strokes. He began growling loudly with each thrust, locking eyes with mine and urging me on. I was in utter ecstasy as the tension in my body built.

I felt myself getting close as I tugged his dick in rhythm with my thrusts. His breathing intensified sharply, and his pelvis bucked. Increasing pace, my thrusts sent him over the edge. His balls retracted and hot cum began to fire out of his pulsing cock.

His body spasmed violently as a guttural roar accompanied each shot. The first ones went long, landing in his gaping mouth and adorning his mustache. The next few on his furry chest and the last onto his glistening abs and stomach.

As he shot, I pushed back to add my own, but he gripped my ass firmly, pulling me back in. Locking eyes, I thrusted harder. Holding my orgasm back with every ounce of will, the pressure intensified.

"Fuck!" I yelled as my rhythm gave way to involuntary spasms. My dick, buried in Mikes incredible ass, unloaded. Pulse after pulse, I shot into him, filling him up until I was completely spent. The sound of our ragged breathing and the smell of sweat and sex filled the cab. Staying inside him, I leaned down and kissed his lips, tasting his semen and cleaning it from his mustache. My dick softened and slowly slipped out. I lie down on his chest, smearing his jizz and feeling the rise and fall of his steadying breaths. We remained there for a few minutes, savoring the unusual intimacy.

Mike stirred, saying "We have to get back to the shop." I started collecting my clothes as he grabbed my shorts; wiping the cum and sweat from our bodies. I watched him for a moment as he got into his coveralls and placed my shorts in his pocket.

"Mike, I'm going to need those," I said. He slid his hand into another pocket and pulled out his torn tank, handing it to me.

"Consider it a trade," he said with that familiar grin. I held the tank up to my face and inhaled.

Pulling it away, I replied, "fair enough," then stuffed it into my coveralls.

He opened the curtains and settled into the driver's seat as I finished dressing. He started the engine, released the brake and pulled out. Our workday was ending as we drove into the center bay. Getting out, Mike briefed a night-shift mechanic about the truck repairs. I went to the locker room to clean up. I was in there for a few minutes when Mike walked in. Looking around to be sure we were alone, he kissed me.

"I have never felt anything like that," adding, "We can't fuck around at work anymore, I can't afford to lose this job." He handed me a piece of paper with his address on it. "Come by this weekend," he said as he sat down and took off his work boots and socks. He removed his coveralls, revealing his naked body once more before grabbing a towel and walking back to the shower. Turning with a smile, he closed the door and vanished.

I changed into my street clothes and headed for my car. I have never showered at work but knowing Mike was there now made me want to start. Heeding his words, I dismissed the thought and climbed into my car. It was Thursday, the weekend now seemed so far away. Reliving the past hour and grinning from ear-to-ear, I drove home.