The Construction Worker and My First Time with a Man

At the time, I had just turned eighteen. I had never had a boyfriend, so I was still a virgin while every other guy my age had already slept with half the neighborhood. For some reason I never quite understood, no man caught my attention, and I had the feeling I didn’t catch anyone’s either, even though I wasn’t ugly. Whenever I installed a dating app, I felt like I was wasting my time: I looked at the pictures and nothing moved me, nothing made me curious, so I ended up deleting it without meeting anyone.

I knew I liked men because I got hard watching porn with two guys, never with a woman involved. Back then, with no boyfriend and no one in the real world who interested me, I took care of myself, masturbating whenever the urge got too strong. Until one day my parents started renovating the house and I met the first man who truly blew my mind.

Don Hugo—Huguito, some people called him, although I found it hard to imagine using a diminutive for such a man—was more than twenty years older than me. He stood a head taller than I did, broad-shouldered, with thick arms and a short beard that suited him far too well. What obsessed me most from the very first day were the veins running across his forearms and hands. He wasn’t a gym boy my age. He was the kind of man who made an impression simply by walking into a room.

At first he was very polite. He called me “young man” every time he addressed me, always focused on his work. He worked alone most days, unless he needed extra strength and brought along a relative. It was almost always just him, his tools, and me, watching him from a corner with whatever excuse I happened to come up with that afternoon.

As the days passed, Hugo became an obsession that wouldn’t even let me sleep. I caught myself looking for any pretext to pass by wherever he was working, just to see him. What unsettled me most was the evidence of exertion on his body. It was hot, and watching sweat break out at the nape of his neck and run down to disappear beneath his T-shirt left me hypnotized.

It wasn’t just any kind of sweat. Whenever I passed close to him, I caught the smell of a man, clean sweat mixed with the dust from the construction work. It was a strong, almost animal scent, nothing like the sweet colognes worn by boys my age. It drove me crazy.

I paid close attention to his hands. They were real hands, large and rough from cement and hard work. He had the typical sun marks of construction workers: his arms and neck were an intense, almost burned-looking brown, contrasting with the lighter skin that showed whenever he stretched and his clothes rode up a little.

Even his work clothes seemed like the sexiest thing in the world to me. Those thick, gray-stained pants clung to his legs and ass in a way that made me swallow hard every time he bent over. It was no longer just that I liked looking at him. I needed that man to put his rough hands on me and sweep away all the shyness that was killing me.

***

That was how the days went by until, under the pretext of bringing him a glass of water, I entered the room where he was working just as he had his back to me, taking off his dirty pants to put on a clean pair. Hearing my footsteps, he tensed and turned quickly, trying to cover himself with the garment in his hand. Being such a proper man, he went red at once.

—Oh! Sorry, young man…I didn’t know you were around here—he said nervously, trying awkwardly to cover himself.

But I had already seen everything, and my brain short-circuited. I stood there like an idiot, not knowing where to look, even though I knew exactly where I wanted to look. It was as if I suddenly realized that everything I thought about myself was a lie. The first thing that drove me wild was his arms, with those pronounced veins that showed whenever a man was really exerting himself.

But what finished me off was seeing his abdomen. He had the two lines running down his hips that made you look downward whether you wanted to or not. And right there, starting at his navel, a fine trail of hair disappeared beneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. I couldn’t help it: my eyes went straight to the bulge showing through them. It was impossible not to see. It looked heavy, real, far too imposing for someone who, like me, had never paid attention to such things.

That was when I said the words that changed everything. I tried to sound as natural as possible, though inside I was dying.

—We’re men. It’s no big deal.

He stared at me for a second, and I saw his shoulders relax.

—Well…it’s true, young man—he replied.

That was the breaking point. From that day on, Hugo became more confident than he had been before. Since we had already seen each other “in confidence,” he began working shirtless because of the heat, and I finally had a free pass to look at him without making him uncomfortable. He walked around the whole house with his torso bare, showing off that chest and those vein-filled arms while he sweated, and I couldn’t stop watching his abdomen flex whenever he bent over or stretched.

As the days went by, he also became bossier and more familiar. He forgot the “young man” and started addressing me as if we had known each other all our lives. “Hey, you, move and bring me something to drink,” or “come here and hold this for me, but hold it tight—don’t be a weakling,” he would say with such confidence that it left me speechless. He treated me with a roughness that, instead of bothering me, turned me on like crazy.

***

One afternoon, while I held a plank steady so he could nail it, he asked me something that left me silent for a few seconds.

—What about you? Don’t you have a girlfriend? I get the feeling you’re very particular about women…—when he saw me remain silent, he continued, laughing—Or what you’re missing is a man?

I froze like a post. He didn’t even wait for an answer. He finished hammering with force, letting the muscles in his sweaty back tense one last time, dropped the hammer, and began rummaging through the toolbox. Without looking at me, with a casualness that sent shivers through me, he dropped the bomb.

—So what? Have you ever sucked anyone’s cock?—he asked bluntly, still searching for some wrench.

I went dry, my heart trying to leap out of my chest. He didn’t wait for me to stammer anything. He leaned against a workbench and, as calmly as could be, undid his pants. He stood there with his boxer briefs showing, then asked me, “Want to suck it?” while nodding for me to come closer.

I felt completely exposed. The way he said it, without looking at me, in that man’s voice that knew perfectly well what he was provoking, left me defenseless. My face burned, but inside I was a mixture of fear and an arousal too big for my body. I was so hard against my pants that it hurt, and that smell of exertion and hot skin drove me completely wild.

I felt hollow in the stomach, and my legs trembled like jelly as I took my first step toward him. At that moment I didn’t care about anything else. All I wanted was finally to touch the skin I had been devouring with my eyes for days.

I knelt in front of him. His strong legs were on either side of my face, with that imposing bulge right in front of me. When I finally pulled down the elastic of his boxer briefs, I was left breathless. There it was, springing outward with such force that I threw my head back for a second. It was a real man’s cock: thick, heavy, a dark cinnamon color contrasting with the lighter skin of his hips. What struck me most was how veined it was, with those ridges running along it like cables. The head was large, an intense purple, glossy with the fluid already beginning to bead at its tip. The smell hit me full in the face: enclosed skin and a whole day’s worth of sweat and work. It was burning hot, radiating heat against my face.

Hugo put his hand on my head and began guiding me toward him.

—You like what you see? You like it? Start sucking it. Open wide and take all of it.

I was so mesmerized that I don’t know how many seconds I remained motionless, but I remember the tug at the back of my neck and the command: “Suck it.” I didn’t wait another second. When I put it in my mouth, the first thing I felt was how enormous it was. It filled me completely, forcing me to open my jaw as wide as possible, and the heat pouring from it burned my tongue. Since I was inexperienced, at first I could barely breathe; I felt the texture of the veins brushing my palate and the head hitting the back of my throat, making my eyes water.

The taste was strong, like a man’s skin and the sweat of the day, but I loved it. Every time he pushed a little farther forward, I felt as though I were going to choke, but having him there, dominating me, filled me with an arousal I had never felt before. I stretched my lips, trying to take all of him, and even though I was running out of air, I didn’t want to let go.

While I struggled to suck hard, saliva running down my chin, I looked up. Hugo was leaning against the bench, his arms stretched behind him and his chest soaked, looking down at me through narrowed eyes and enjoying my clumsiness. Suddenly his expression grew more serious, more animalistic. He grew tired of my beginner’s slowness, grabbed my hair with both hands, and, without letting me breathe, began fucking my mouth with a rough, steady rhythm.

It was no longer me who was moving; he was driving his hips, burying that veined mass deep into my throat. I felt the blunt impact of his pubic bone against my nose, and the smell of sweat made me dizzy. Every thrust made me gag, but he didn’t care: he held my head in place, forcing me to take him. The sound was filthy, a constant wet slurping. My eyes were full of tears, but seeing him above me, his muscles tense, turned me on like crazy.

—That’s it…take it all, I can’t hold back anymore…

I felt his body go rigid as stone. He gave two deeper thrusts, almost choking me, and let out a growl that echoed through the room. I felt his cock throb inside my mouth before the first spurt, a hot, thick discharge striking the back of my throat. He didn’t let go of my hair; he kept me pressed against him, forcing me to swallow every drop while he continued pulsing. When he finally finished, he released me and fell back, breathing hard, while I remained on the floor recovering my breath, his taste still on my tongue.

He adjusted his still-dripping cock and pulled up his pants without any hurry. He fastened his belt and, instead of moving away, placed his heavy, rough hand on my head.

—Well…you’re not so bad at it. Listen, this stays between us…and if you behave, we’ll do it again.

He let go of me and, without another word, turned back for the hammer.

—Now move and bring me another glass of water. You left me dried out—he ordered without looking at me, returning to work as if nothing had happened.

Still on the floor, his taste in my throat and my heart racing, I got up, went to the kitchen, and couldn’t hold back any longer: I masturbated until I shot my last drop.

***

From that day on, there was no turning back. It became our routine: I was Hugo’s relief whenever he felt like it. It didn’t matter what time it was or where we were in the house; if we were alone and he gave me that nod, I knew it was time to kneel. There were afternoons when, while he rested from the heat, he made me crawl under the table where he ate lunch. I stayed hidden between his legs, breathing in the smell of wood and sweat, giving him pleasure while he continued drinking his soda as if nothing were happening. Other times he cornered me against a half-finished wall, brick dust dirtying my clothes, and fucked my mouth with the roughness I loved, always reminding me who was in charge.

I became an expert at pleasing him. I learned to take him all the way down my throat without complaining, enjoying the way his groans grew louder. Every encounter was just as intense: he was always in control, always rough, and I was always surrendered.

Until one week my parents stayed home and we couldn’t do anything. Hugo kept searching for me with his eyes, desperate, and I was dying to have him, but there was no way. On the first day we were alone again, he didn’t waste a second. As soon as the door closed, he grabbed me by the arm and took me to the back room. He pulled me down onto my knees and ordered me to take it out. I started sucking him with a new kind of urgency, giving it everything I had, but after a few minutes he grabbed my hair and pulled me away.

—Enough of just sucking me. You left me wanting all week, and now I’m going to fuck you for real.

I told him it was my first time, that I had never had sex, so he wouldn’t hurt me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me, half-naked and stumbling, to my room. He threw me onto the bed without the slightest gentleness and climbed on top, opening my legs with his rough hands. He spat into his palm and ran it along his entire length, giving it a sheen that made me swallow hard. He pressed the head against my entrance and stared straight at me with that usual air of superiority.

—Relax. If you tense up, it’ll hurt more—he said in a hoarse voice.

I felt the first push and let out a muffled cry into the pillow. He was too big; I felt as though he were splitting me in two. He stopped for a second to let me adjust, but his arousal won out: he spat again and, with one single thrust, drove all the way inside me. The weight of his sweaty body on mine and the sensation of having him buried inside me drove me crazy. He began fucking me with a rough rhythm, making the bed creak with every impact of his hips.

He showed no mercy. I begged him between moans to go more slowly, but he didn’t even listen; on the contrary, he sped up, delivering dry, deep thrusts that made me bounce on the mattress. To silence me, he draped himself over me with all his weight, lowered his head to my chest, and caught one of my nipples between his lips, sucking it hard and alternating hot licks with short bites that sent jolts all the way to my tip.

The sensation was madness: on one hand, the sharp pain of his cock stretching me from within; on the other, the electric pleasure that made me arch my back. The contrast drove me wild. Suddenly, from that close range, he looked at me with an intensity that stopped my heart, grabbed my face, and gave me a brutal kiss. It wasn’t tender at all: it was a dirty, hungry kiss, full of tongue. Our mouths tangled with a desperation that made me moan into his while he kept thrusting without stopping.

When we broke apart, both panting, he grunted and, without pulling out, lifted my legs onto his shoulders, folding me completely in half. In that position he went much deeper. He braced himself on his arms, the veins in his biceps standing out as if they might burst, and began pumping into me with animal force. Without stopping his movement, he grabbed my hips and dragged me across the mattress until I was at the edge of the bed. He stood on the floor with his legs spread wide, and from there used his full height to drive himself into me.

Seeing him like that, standing, his body streaming with sweat that shone in the light and his thighs tense as stone, was an image I would never forget. With every thrust I felt I was about to explode without even touching myself. The pleasure was so extreme it burned, but I couldn’t even move my hands; I knew that one touch would make me come, and I wanted it to last forever.

Just before I collapsed, he pulled out sharply. The emptiness made me let out a desperate moan.

—Turn over!—he ordered, grabbing me by the waist and putting me on all fours in one swift movement. Before I could get settled, I felt him climb back onto the mattress and, without mercy, push it inside me again. From behind he struck the exact spot, making me gasp while my own cock hung heavily, dripping onto the sheets, with nothing I could do but receive him.

He didn’t give me a second to recover. I was on all fours, hands planted into the mattress and back arched, while he pounded me with a force that made my whole body vibrate. With every thrust my arms weakened, and I ended up collapsing chest-first onto the bed. He didn’t care; he took advantage of my exhaustion to sink even deeper.

As I collapsed, my cock was crushed against the sheets. The friction of his weight pushing me into the mattress and the internal pressure were too much for my inexperienced body. Unable to touch myself, moaning into the pillow, I felt the spasm run through my back. I came with such force that it made my whole body shake, staining the sheet and my abdomen, while he continued mercilessly, enjoying the way I squeezed around his cock with every spasm.

—You’re squeezing me, little slut—he said between gasps.

I felt his slaps against my ass, sharp blows that left my skin burning, while he covered my back with rough kisses and bites. He grabbed my hair and yanked me backward, forcing me to arch my neck as he drove into me with a thrust that knocked all the air from my lungs. He stayed that way for several seconds, pushing with his full weight. The pressure was so brutal that my cock, having just collapsed, reacted again and began dripping once more.

Then the intensity rose even higher. With an expert movement, he turned me without pulling out and dropped me onto my back. He pinned my legs against his chest and began delivering the hardest thrusts of the entire afternoon; the collision of our bodies was the only sound in the room. I saw his neck tense and his eyes close, completely lost in it. He gave three final, brutal thrusts, and just when I thought I was going to pass out from pleasure, he pulled out sharply.

—Look at me!—he shouted, gripping his cock and masturbating in front of my eyes with frantic speed until he released a deep roar. I felt the hot, thick spurts strike my abdomen and chest, covering me completely as he finished emptying himself over me, marking me in the way I liked best.

Afterward he collapsed beside me, panting, drenched in sweat. I had no strength left, trembling, my skin burning, but the smell of sex and man drove me crazy. Without thinking, I crawled across the bed and lunged at his cock again, wanting to taste him one more time now that he was relaxed. I began sucking him with hungry devotion while he sighed and closed his eyes. The taste was much stronger and more concentrated, a mixture of his own release and the sweat from his groin.

—That’s enough, enough…—he said hoarsely—You’re going to leave me dry again.

After a few seconds he placed his hand against my forehead and firmly pushed me away.

—I have to go—he said as he stood up.

He got out of bed completely naked, without the slightest embarrassment. I remained sprawled there, unable to move a muscle, my eyes fixed on his broad back as he crossed the room. Before going to get his clothes, he stopped in the doorway and looked back at me over his shoulder.

—You know the deal—he warned me seriously—no one can know about this.

He turned and left, leaving me alone in the bed with the smell of his body soaked into the sheets and my heart—as well as my ass—still pounding.

***

After that first time, the air between us grew heavy, charged with an electricity we could feel whenever we passed close to each other. Hugo threw me fiery looks while he worked, sweat defining his muscles, and I knew perfectly well what he was thinking about. Seeing that the construction work was nearly finished and that he had only a few days left at the house, urgency took over. We couldn’t be alone for even a second without ending up pressed against a wall. We went back to our wild encounters in every dark corner, but it wasn’t like before anymore: now I sucked him with total desperation, wanting to imprint his taste on my memory before he left.

Our last encounter was anything but gentle. We took advantage of the empty house and locked ourselves away for an entire afternoon, until we were completely spent. Hugo was unleashed, as if he wanted to leave his mark on me before the job ended. He took me from one side of the room to the other, whispered filthy things in my ear, and put me into position again and again. He made me come countless times, pushing me to the limit with his hands and his thrusts, until I couldn’t produce another drop. We ended up sprawled together, sticky and tangled among the ruined sheets.

What I will never forget about that afternoon was seeing him afterward, lying there with his body drenched in sweat. I kept looking at his cock: even soft and fully rested, it was still an imposing thing, thick and marked by the veins that had driven me crazy the entire time. Seeing it there after he had emptied me completely reminded me of how rough he had been with me.

There were no long goodbyes or sentimental nonsense. He got up with that commanding air, shook the sweat from himself, and began dressing while I was still trying to catch my breath. He gave me one last once-over, as if checking the mess he had left me in, and walked out of the room without looking back. A few days later he finished putting up the last wall and, as there was no other way it could have ended, I sent him off on my knees in the tool room, sucking him dry before he left.

Some time later, wanting to do it again, I looked him up to see whether he would give in. The surprise was something else: I found out his wife was pregnant. It brought me down, but I didn’t want that kind of trouble, so I decided not to look for him again. I was left with the memory that he gave me the best fucks of my life and that he was the man who, without meaning to, finally taught me who I was.