He hadn’t been on the crew for very long at that point–to be honest, most of the other guys kind of hated him. Not because of anything he’d done, really–it’s just that the job was on a tight schedule and Sam had no fucking idea how to do anything, which meant that when he wasn’t slowing us down, we were stopping work just to teach him how to lay fucking asphalt. After a few days, he ended up flagging, which was better to be honest all around. Still, I could remember what it was like to be that green, and holding up projects. Some of the guys were outright cold, refused to even talk to him; the least I could do was a hello and some small talk, right?
Then the guy goes and thinks we’re fucking friends. I should have seen it coming. Out of the damn blue he invites me over to his place to watch the game with his roommate, and I didn’t have a damn interest in going, so I declined. Me and some of the other guys had planned on going to a strip joint, not that I told him, because heaven forbid he decided to tag along, right? Still, the invitations just wouldn’t fucking stop, after that, and a guy can only keep up with the damn excuses for so long. Still, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. I hadn’t exactly learned much about him, not that I cared, but he seemed…not just green, but…well, this work just didn’t seem like something he was used to. Sure, he was greasy and dirty like the rest of us, but he had no callouses on his hands, no tan, no work muscle–guy was kind of a ball of chub, if you know what I mean. Maybe he’d been laid off or something, I didn’t know, I didn’t want to listen to a sob story for sure. But on a night when I was feeling a bit down myself and thought the company couldn’t hurt, I finally took him up on his offer. He was bussing to work, but I had my truck, so I offered to drive him home and hang out for a bit with him and his “roommate.”
He lived in a shitty apartment in a shittier complex. He shoved open the door, and the whole place was a fucking sty–don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly neat and tidy, but that place made me cringe. And fuck, it stank! Not just musky, not just stale–it stank. Still, I couldn’t really beg off now–I took a beer from him, he cleared off the couch and we sat down and started watching the game that was on, chatting a bit. His roommate was out–”probably buying beer or something,” Sam told me–but he seemed…anxious. Kept looking his phone and checking the time. I’d probably been there half an hour, and was trying to figure out a way to ditch somewhat gracefully, when the door swung open, and Sam’s roommate came in, with a twenty-four pack of beer under his arm. The guy was as messy as the apartment. The thing I remember most–his white t-shirt, those fucking pits of his were stained brown–I could see it across the room. The guy said hi, dropped the beer on the table in front of us, and immediately shoved himself in between us on the couch, throwing his arms around us both, and fuck! The stench rolling off those fuckin’ pits!
My eyes were watering, I started gagging, but I was paralyzed. My body…it wouldn’t move, even as it tried to keep the odor out of my lungs. On the other side of him, all I could hear was this strange slurping and groaning–I managed to roll my head far enough to see what was going on, and Sam had his face shoved in his roommate’s armpit, and was licking and sucking at it, hungry as could be, and the guy was…was encouraging him. Then he turned to me.
“So, you must be that buddy of Sam’s from work–he’s been trying to coax you over for weeks now! Good to meet you. Dale, right? My name’s Gus. Gotta say Sam, ya picked a good one.”
“Thanks Gus, I…I thought he’d be perfect.”
“Fuck yeah, he’s a beauty. Good muscles–I love the tattoos,” Gus ran his hand up under my shirt, where I was spasming on the couch, trying to understand what was happening to me. “Nice fuckin’ bulge too. Sam, get over here and show our guest some manners, get that cock out and start suckin’ on him like a good pig.”
“Fuck yeah, sure thing Gus! I’ve wanted his cock since the first day I saw him,” Sam said, got off the couch and in between my legs, hauled out my cock and started licking at my cock and balls, still sweaty from a day in the summer heat.
I tried to pull away, but Gus grabbed my head and pulled it back, right into the crook of his pit, pushing his face close, his breath as foul as his pits. “Now, now, don’t fight it, that’ll only make it hurt, or I’ll have to go to some extreme measures. Just inhale, Dale, and everything will be fine. You’ll get used to it, I promise. Fuck, look at Sam down there–just two months ago he came here looking for a room to rest, some fancy fucker in a suit with a job at a tech company but and now look at him. Still, I need someone to keep an eye on him during the day, and that somebody’s gonna be you. Help me out and do as I say, and everything will be just fine–you’ll get to use this pig’s holes as much as you want. Now take a deep breath, and relax…”
I…I don’t really remember what happened after that big breath I took. Gus…said a lot of things. A lot of things that made…a lot of sense, even though I can’t recall them right now. I ended up staying that first night, and by morning…it just made sense to help Gus out with his pig, you know? Keep him in line at work, help him out, make sure his holes are well worked and loose throughout the day. And everyday, I give Sam a ride home from the worksite…and Gus is there…and I get to smell him. I get to smell Gus while I fuck that pig’s brains out, and…and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself, and it’s only getting worse. That, and Gus…Gus has been giving me these weird looks, these hungry looks. Talking about…about me the way he talks about Sam, sometimes, when he talks about…about what’s gonna happen to the pig. I’m staying with them both for a long weekend, and I wish I could say no…but I have a sinking, stinking feeling there’s not much I’d say no to, if Gus’ filthy body is involved.
Bracken's Corner 