The Factory

The factory door was hanging-off so I nipped inside for a slash, I had been busting for one since lunchtime and only now, on the walk home, did I find this spot off the street and away from dog walkers and young families to let it loose. I walked to the far corner, just beyond where a shaft of afternoon sunlight from the broken roof was baking the cracked concrete floor, and unzipped. The relief was tangible and instantaneous, I gladly wetted the wall in a long slow line back and forth, back and forth, keeping going till my balls drew up to my knuckles and my stream ran dry. My flaccid cock in my hands, I shook twice and began to furl its warm soft length back up into my briefs.

‘Keep it out…’ The voice came from nowhere and froze me to the spot. A rush of cold up my back to the hairs on my neck. I started to zip myself up. ‘Keep it out, I say!’ I turned my head and saw him standing there, a well built man, older than me by a decade, stood there in work boots and fatigue shorts, shirtless in the heat of the day. He smiled without engaging his eyes and nodded for me to turn around. It was then that I noticed the Stanley knife in his hand, the rusty nib of blade exposed. I turned.

‘Undo yourself and get it back out’. I did not know what else to do. Eyes darting around me, looking for an escape, I slowly unzipped and pulled my penis back out of my pants. He took a step closer, eyes on mine and raised the knife to waist height, ‘your belt… unbuckle it and let your clothes drop.’ I thought he was about to castrate me. However, seeing no other way out, I did as I was told. An impatient gesture told me that he meant everything and so I pulled my pants down after my trousers and stood there, naked from below my shirt. He took one step closer still and now there was no getting away. ‘Down on your knees and suck it – you may kneel on your clothes’.

The floor being concrete and dappled with my piss, I was obliged to kick off my shoes and put my stuff beneath my knees before going down. Once I had this complete, he held the knife towards my cheek and said, ‘begin’. I swallowed and reached forwards to pull back the leather strap against his buckle, the whole length snaked out between my hands. I then popped the top fastener open and pulled the two leaves of his shorts apart. What met me was his vast, smooth, veiny cock, unencumbered by underwear and thick and heavy. I had never done anything like this before; I was married and had only ever slept with two girls. He put the shaft of the knife against my cheek and said, ‘Suck’.

As it was hanging down, I put one hand under his swollen balls and pulled the whole package forwards and up, using my thumb to separate the meat from the veg I put my lower lip beneath his member, desperately keeping my tongue back in my mouth to avoid tasting it and, thereby, completing the action. He did that for me. The very sensation of touching my lips seemed to bring his prick to life and it swelled up like a runaway balloon and forced itself between my lips. My lower jaw dropped like a car boot and he swayed forward slightly till he was well within my lips. The meat resting against my tongue now, it felt very hard, yet soft at the same time. Pulsing. Beating. Warm. It was still relatively dry so, in order to go either back or forwards, I sucked a little and then ran my tongue all the way around the end. It was rubbery like an egg but tasted far more neutral. His pubes smelt fresh like he was straight from the shower. I’d gone this far, I might as well get it over with.

My hand was still cupping his balls, so I ran this back and forth lightly, like a nest for the jostling pair. The other hand I spat on with everything I’d got and massaged this into his length. He began thrusting and every stroke took him deeper in my mouth. I closed my eyes and began sucking rhythmically.

I hear myself moaning lightly just as he took my head between his fingertips and pulled my face back from him, ‘yeah, you like that, don’t ya?’ I looked to where he was indicating and saw, to my surprise, that I was erect too. ‘Stand-up’.

I stood and he stepped into me so our balls were touching and our shafts duelled with each other. He kissed me hard, not like a girl kisses but like he wanted to rape my mouth with his wet tongue and taste his own cock in there. When he pulled back, he kept hold of my hair and my penis and led me over to a broken washing machine. Using light but insistent force he got me to perch up on its edge. From his shirt pocket he pulled a packet of lube and applied it to his fingers. Never taking his eyes from mine, he reached between my legs and worked them up my arse. The second squirt took the remainder of the packet into his palm and he lubed himself. Then, holding the bulbous head of his penis tight between his thumb and forefinger, he approached my opening.

Freeing both hands – I don’t know where the knife was now – he ripped my shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, and palmed my chest. The distraction must have relaxed me and I realised he was up inside me, sliding his whole meat home. He pulled back a few inches then slid it home once more, a little harder. He spat a wad of spittle directly onto my rod and began to whack me off in front of him as he took up a rhythm within me that was exciting to us both. I was surprised that it didn’t hurt, but maybe that was because, by now I was loving it every inch as much as he was. He pumped harder and harder, until he forgot about my needs, and grabbed my thighs to speed-up for the final stretch. With a roar he came like a water-fountain, the pulsing inside me doing things to my anus that I never thought could be so exciting. Still spurting his jizz out inside me, he withdrew, pulled up his shorts, spanked me – hard – on the cock, turned and left the building.

Still not able to comprehend what was going on, I lay back, put my heels up on the edge of the machine and, legs open, pulled myself off with a fury I hadn’t known since my teenage years. The cum sprayed my chest and chin and I scooped handful after handful into my aching mouth, his semen meanwhile dripping out of my backside.

I had to wait till dusk to leave the building, my clothes were such a state. But I came back there every week that Summer.