My Grey Summer

- My Grey Summer -

by

warkat747

*****

Authors note: This story is a work of fiction. All the characters, places, and events, are made up. All the fictitious sexual activity depicted within, is between consenting adults, who are fictional. But it is the authors hope, that in reality, if you have taken the time to read this story, that you found it, at least somewhat, enjoyable. Thank you.

*****

The summer after my freshman year of college was just about upon me and I wasn't looking forward to it. I had no plans, which meant I would be moving back in with my parents, and if I was lucky, working some soul sucking job for minimum wage until school started again in September. This was fundamentally unchanged from the last two years of high school, which meant my prospects for a sex life were to be equally as unchanged this summer.

I was 19, and a virgin. Pathetically inexperienced with the female sex. My greatest accomplishment had been the summer before when I received a blow job. A single blow job, which hadn't even lasted long enough for me to cum. In the same encounter I was allowed to reach down into the girl's underpants and rub her clit, but it was made clear that I was not allowed to finger her. I hadn't even gotten to look at her pussy. Besides that encounter, my experience consisted of making out with a few girls and sometimes getting to fondle and suck on their boobs. College hadn't been any better. In fact, other than porn on the internet and my best friends left hand and right hand, it had been a total strike out. This summer was not promising any improvement to that pathetic state.

So, when I received a phone call from one of my cousins asking if I wanted to drive a dump truck for her father-in-law's construction company that summer, I was intrigued. I admitted that I had never driven a dump truck, or anything even remotely like one, and inquired why she was asking me?

The company in question had landed a contract to open up 152 miles of old railway line that was being rehabilitated for the use of two new open pit mines which were being developed up north. The railways had been built in the 1880s and were now long abandoned. Left to degrade, much of what remained had been reclaimed by forest, been built on by homeowners and businesses that didn't own the land, washed out by floods, buried by landslides, or were just too steep and twisty for the massive trains that were going to be using them in the near future to haul ore from the new mines at one end, to the nearest port at the other. Her father-in-law's firm had 153 days from May 1^st through September 30^th to clear and grade the 152 miles of right-of-way to make maximum profit. Come October 1^st, they would start losing money. It was the end of April, and they were desperate for workers. They hadn't even started yet, and they were already behind schedule.

I told my cousin I was willing, but made it clear that I didn't think I was a suitable candidate. I gave her a list of concerns I had come up with in the few minutes we were talking, foremost of which was where would I be living, as I am not set up as an itinerant construction worker. But I told her that if she ran my concerns past her father-in-law, and he still thought me useful, I'd take the job.

The next day I got an e-mail from the boss man himself which addressed each of my concerns. He was still offering me a job, and he included how much it would pay. I couldn't e-mail him back fast enough accepting the offer. As for where I would live, he had written that it was all taken care of, and when I got home I needed to get a ride over to my uncle's place, and left it at that.

School let out the first Thursday of May and the next day I was on my way to my uncle's house, being driven over by my Mom. When we got there, we were shown to a massive garage where he kept his vintage car collection. He handed me a set of keys and opened the garage door revealing a high-top VW T3 Syncro camper van that he had rebuilt the previous winter. This was to be my home for the summer. He gave me the full tour, showed me the new Subaru engine, the solar panel on the roof that charged a battery pack that ran everything when the engine was off. Showed me where the propane tank hooked up, how to fill the potable water supply, and how the toilet worked. Heck, there was even satellite internet built into the thing. To make it more spacious, there was an awning that rolled out from the side of the van that had mesh sides, like a big tent. He wished me happy camper vanning, and told me not to break it.

I was sent on my way by my uncle and mom, I swear I saw him cringe as I drove off in one of his precious vintage vehicles. My destination was the home of my cousin's father-in-law, where I was to be given a, hopefully not crash, crash-course, in operating the kind of truck I was to be driving all summer. It was only a short drive, and I made it without making too much of a fool of myself in the unfamiliar camper van. I knew I had found the right place by the amount of construction equipment parked in a field behind a massive house. As I pulled in, a man walked out of the house and asked how I liked the van.

"Like a dorm room on wheels," I said. "Only cleaner." He laughed and extended a hand. We shook.

"Ready to learn to drive a dump truck?"

"Guess I'd better be." I reiterated that my experience level was zero, and gave him the chance to back out, stating that if he had more experienced candidates for the job he should hire them instead of me, no hard feelings. He was having none of it. We walked out into the field of equipment and stopped in front of an articulated dump truck. A massive yellow vehicle with six wheels, each one taller than I was. I hadn't been expecting an off-road juggernaut like this.

"Climb on up," he said. I did. He followed. "Assuming this old beast will start," he sat down in the driver's seat, "this will be a good truck to learn on. Not too big, only 25-ton capacity. Up on the job you'll be driving one about twice as big." Before I could protest the engine roared to life and he shouted at me to hang on. The truck lurched forward, faltered, recovered with a cloud of black diesel exhaust, then took off, making a staggeringly sharp left hand turn before bounding off between the rows of parked equipment. It was obvious he was having a good time tearing around the field in the truck. Honestly, it was fun to ride on. If I wasn't so nervous about screwing up massively, I would have been enjoying myself.

Eventually it was my turn to take the controls. Slowly, tentatively, I began to maneuver the massive machine through the rows of parked equipment. After a while I was backing it around the other machines, and when he was satisfied that I had the basics down, he flipped on the radio and jumped off the truck. He found a loader and his voice cracked over the radio to follow him. We raced across a field to a sandy cliff where he loaded the truck, told me to drive around, and then come back and dump the load. I did. Then I did it again, but this time in reverse the entire way. Then I was told to unload while parked on a slope. I started to, and then stopped when it felt like the truck was going to tip over. Apparently, that's what I was supposed to do. Lesson over, we parked the equipment. I was given some words of encouragement, and then told where to be first thing Monday morning.

The next day was spent familiarizing myself with the camper van. It had driven home fine so I felt comfortable with it in that respect, but I had no idea what it was going to be like to live in. Parked in my parent's driveway I set it up as if at a camp site. I extended the four leveling jacks that stabilized the van and then opened up the awning that was tucked neatly above the sliding side door. Legs fold down from the corners of it, and mesh sides could be zipped down to create a room off the side of the van.

From this, for lack of a better word, porch, I found myself looking into the living area of the van through the open side door. To the right were the two front seats, the drivers was fixed in place but the passenger seat could swivel around 180 degrees and be used by those in the back. Between the two seats on the floor was a built-in lock box that I could store valuables in, and more conveniently, use as a small table.

Behind the driver's seat was the kitchen. Crammed into the impossibly small space was a refrigerator, microwave, toaster oven, a two-burner stove, and a sink with hot and cold running water. Add in the bit of counter top and a couple of small storage drawers and it was an amazingly efficient use of space. Above this were large windows that slid open. I had never driven another vehicle that came equipped with bug screens.

To the left of my vantage point was what looked like a couch. It was one, but was also a toilet and a bed, though hopefully not at the same time. The couch back could fold down into the space between the couch seat and padded cover over the engine in the back to make a full-sized bed. The seat cushion closest to the door disguised a toilet under it. Apparently, it was quite an ingenious contraption. One sat and used the toilet as normal, the difference being your waste fell into a chemical lined bag which quickly absorbed all the moisture turning it into a semi-dry crumbly mass. Flushing, resulted in the bag being sealed shut thus eliminating the chance for odor to escape and linger in the small space. The bag was then compressed into a detachable container for later disposal in the trash. A new bag was then automatically positioned for the next use. I wasn't sure how I felt about living and sleeping above my stored, desiccated, excrement, but figured I'd be finding out soon enough. Below the remaining portion of the couch was storage, storage, and more storage. Well, maybe not quite that much.

As the van was a high-top conversion there was enough room to fully stand up between the couch and the front seats. Up top, above and to the rear of the couch, there was a platform that was actually another bed. This was normally slid shut, but could open up for sleeping. The cushion on it was actually a thin mattress folded in half. Up top, there were also four large sliding windows which let in a lot of light and made the small space feel roomy and airy, not nearly so claustrophobic as it probably would without them.

Finally, in the back, the tailgate door swung up to reveal a large open area. This seemed like a lot of wasted space until I remembered that the van's engine is back there and the couch folds down into the space to make up the bed. On the tailgate door itself was mounted another awning, an opaque one this time, that could be lowered to create a private shower. The shower head and controls were also mounted on the tailgate door, and plumbed into the vans water supply. I set it up and turned it on. Well, it would do I guess. It was a tidy little set up that I was sure I would be intimately familiar with after a few days of use, and screaming sick of after a week. Oh well, I had no other option.

I also didn't have anything I would need to live in the van. It needed complete fitting out. It took about fifteen minutes to convert the van back to road mode and then I set off to acquire provisions. Figuring that what I was really going to be doing all summer was camping, all be it avant garde camping, I headed to the nearest sporting goods store. There I bought lightweight nesting pots and pans, enameled cups and plates, and for some reason titanium knives, forks, and spoons. Folding camp chairs were acquired for my porch. And finally biodegradable soap and toilet paper so I wouldn't, I don't know, harm the environment of the chemical filled toilet bags? My next stop was a local big box farm supply store where I correctly assumed I could kit myself out with steel toed boots, high visibility shirts, jeans with reenforced knees, leather gloves, and even a hard hat. I was at least going to look the part of a construction worker even though I wouldn't have a clue what I was doing. Last stop was a grocery store where I bought all the things a college student thinks are food, that aren't really, to fill my kitchen.

Now as prepared as I felt I was going to be, the next morning I set off on the drive north to the port city that anchored one end of the rail line. As I didn't actually need to report to work until the next morning, I took some time to explore the city, eat good, and purchase a very important item that I hadn't been able to find back in my hometown. An item that I figured would be critical for my auto-nomadic existence. I then scouted out where I needed to go the next morning, before parking up at a public beach parking lot that was a well-known, according to the internet, van-life stopover point.

I didn't bother to set up the awnings or outriggers that night, nor did I cook in the van. I thought about using the van toilet, but opted for the ones in the park. I felt a little uneasy with the number of hippy van-life-types hanging around the bathrooms after dark, in a city I wasn't very familiar with, so I just stayed in the van after that brief excursion. Of the things I did use in the van that first night, all seemed to work very well. Eventually, I was catching myself falling asleep, and so I retrieved the pillows and blankets from storage, dropped the back of the couch down and spread the blankets out to form my bed. I stripped down to my boxers, and turned out the lights.

Though tired, my mind was full of nervous anticipation of the next day. Combined with the parking lot full of other weirdos living in vans making noise, I couldn't fall asleep. I tried to listen to the waves breaking on the beach the other side of the sand dune that separated the parking lot from the shore, but kept being distracted by cars. Eventually, out of other options, I retrieved my important purchase from that afternoon.

The silicon sheath was about the size of an energy drink can, translucent, smooth on the outside but full of nubs and ridges on the inside. I had examined it extensively earlier in the day, but hadn't dared use it in the busy parking lot. But now, in the middle of the night... I retrieved a small bottle of lube, and in the faint glow through the windows, squirted a generous amount into the orifice and then rolled it around to spread the slippery substance about the textured walls. My cock was straining in my shorts, I had never used any kind of masturbation device before, just my hands, and I was tremendously excited. This was going to be as close to fucking a vagina as I had ever come.

I removed my underpants and scrunched a bed sheet into a ball and nestled the sleeve into it. I positioned myself appropriately and rubbed the head of my cock over the slippery orifice, covering it with lubricant. I pushed myself in. I hadn't thought a sex toy could cause my penis to be more stimulated than the one brief blow job I had thus far experienced, but I was wrong. My ex-partner, she, I, both of us, were inexperienced and fumbling, whereas this thing, this thing was engineered to get me off. I started to thrust as I never had before. It was instinctual. Primal. I grabbed another blanket to better simulate a woman's body next to mine and humped away without abandon. In the pale moonlight I could look down and see my shaft sliding in and out of the silicone sheath. In my mind it was warm pussy lips caressing my cock as I plunged in and out of a tight, wet, vagina. She, whoever she was, was moaning for more of my dick, to fuck her faster, harder, and then was begging for me to cum deep inside of her. That did it. My hips thrust forward as I pulled back on the mound of blankets cradling the masturbation sleeve, burying my cock hard and deep into the fake vagina as I came. Came as hard as I ever had.

Though already lying down, I collapsed, spent, into the bed. From out in the parking lot a shouted 'woo-hoo' pierced the quiet night air, followed by a brief round of applause. I suddenly lay very, very, still. From now on I was always putting the outriggers down to stabilize the van when parked for the night. I pulled my cock from the toy, my penis shone wet with cum and lube in the moonlight. I went and christened the van toilet by dripping my semen out of the silicon sheath into it, before rinsing the toy in the sink and putting it away to dry. It had been so mind blowingly good. If I could do that a couple times a day all summer long, it would be a good summer.

In the morning I was tempted to take the toy out again, but as it was the first day of the new job I decided to skip my customary morning wank in order to be on time. Dressed in my swanky new construction worker wear, I reconfigured the van from bedroom to living room and said so long to the beach parking lot and my inadvertent audience of the night before. I arrived at the staging area at this, the western end, of the railway right-of-way. I was directed to an out of the way area along with the other new employees to await somebody important to take us under their supervision. It was to be a day of orientation, training, and testing.

By that evening I was familiar with all the safety rules of the job site, and had passed a test to prove it. I had put out a pan fire with a fire extinguisher. I could properly use a grease gun on equipment. I knew the protocol for using the radios without causing disruption. And I was better informed about the project itself, the scope of the work, all that needed to be done, and what progress actually had been made. Basically, I had a much better idea of how this summer job of mine was going to play out.

I also had learned more about what my van life was going to be like. The company had rented out big blocks of state park camp grounds, farm fields, even the parking lot of a dead old store, to provide space for all the itinerant workers to set up camp as the work slowly moved west to east. There were staging areas for all the equipment and materials that would also migrate down the line with the work, and busses would shuttle us employees from camp to these points at the start and end of the work day.

The work day over, I drove off towards the first camp, in this case a state park 14 miles to the east. As it was still too early in the year for the park to be full of tourists, two entire campgrounds had been set aside specifically for us workers. I showed my work badge at the entrance gate and was assigned a specific camp site. As I drove to my assigned spot, I couldn't help but feel out of place. The other employees all seemed to have big RVs that looked like busses, or huge campers towed behind massive pick-up trucks. Then there were the old school busses or package delivery vehicles that had been converted into campers. There were sides that extended out, big awning tents that covered whole outdoor rooms, ATVs and golf carts galore. Clearly entire families sometimes traveled from job to job. I, it appeared, was the only one who was going to be living in a van.

Though, as the van was small, I had been assigned an out of the way spot on the edge of the campground where the road twisted and turned through the massive trees, overlooking the rugged river that was the reason this state park existed. The giant land whales of my coworkers literally didn't fit down the road. I was alone, secluded, nice. As I wouldn't need to move the van for a week I set it up properly. Outriggers down, awnings open. It had been a long day and I was feeling lazy, which meant the time had finally come. Yes. This summer would go down in history as the summer I pooped in a van. Even with the privacy screens pulled down over the windows it was still awkward. I was very much aware that I was sitting in the back of a van, pants around my ankles, on a toilet. But as advertised, it didn't stink afterword.