The Construction Worker and My First Time with a Man

Back then I had just turned eighteen. I had never had a boyfriend, so I was still a virgin when any other guy my age had already slept with half the neighborhood. For reasons I never quite understood, no man had ever caught my attention, and I had the feeling I didn’t catch anyone else’s either, even though I wasn’t ugly. When I downloaded a dating app, I felt like I was wasting my time: I’d look at the pictures and nothing stirred me, nothing made me curious, so I’d end 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. At that time, with no boyfriend and no one in the real world who interested me, I managed on my own, masturbating when the need got bad. Until one day my parents started renovating the house and I met the first man who truly blew my mind.

Don Hugo —Huguito, some called him, though I found it hard to imagine using a diminutive for such a man— was more than twenty years older than me. He towered over me by a head, broad in the shoulders, thick-armed, with a short beard that suited him too well. What obsessed me most from the first day were the veins that ran along his forearms and hands. He wasn’t a gym boy my age. He was the kind of man who commands respect just by walking into a room.

At first he was very polite. He called me “young man” whenever he spoke to me, always focused on his work. He worked alone most days, unless he needed strength and brought along a relative. Most of the time it was just him, his tools, and me, watching from a corner under whatever excuse I’d come up with that afternoon.

As the days went by, what I felt for Hugo turned into an obsession that kept me from sleeping. I caught myself looking for any excuse to pass by where he was working, just to see him. What threw me off most was the trail of effort his body left behind. It was hot, and watching sweat beading at the nape of his neck and running down his throat until it disappeared under his T-shirt left me hypnotized.

It wasn’t just any sweat. When I walked near him, I caught a man’s smell, clean sweat mixed with the dust of the building site. It was a strong smell, almost animal, nothing like the sweet colognes of guys my age. It drove me crazy.

I paid a lot of attention to his hands. They were real hands, big, rough from cement and work. He had the sun marks so typical of bricklayers: his arms and neck deeply tanned, almost burned, contrasting with the lighter skin that showed whenever he stretched and his shirt rode up a little.

Even his work clothes seemed like the sexiest thing in the world to me. That thick, gray-stained pair of pants clung to his legs and ass in a way that made me swallow every time he bent over. It wasn’t just that I liked looking at him anymore. It was that I needed that man to put his rough hands on me and strip away, all at once, all the shyness that was killing me.

***

Days went by like that until, under the pretext of bringing him a glass of water, I walked into 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 stiffened and turned around quickly, trying to cover himself with the garment he was holding. Since he was so proper, he turned red immediately.

—Oh! Sorry, young man… I didn’t know you were around here —he said, nervous, 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. It was as if I suddenly realized everything I thought about myself was a lie. The first thing that drove me wild were his arms, with those pronounced veins that show when someone’s really straining.

But what finished me off was seeing his stomach. He had those two carved lines that run down from the hips and make you look lower whether you want to or not. And right there, from his navel, a thin line of hair disappeared under the waistband of his boxer briefs. I couldn’t help it: my eyes went straight to the bulge outlined there. It was impossible not to see it. It looked heavy, real, too imposing for someone like me, who had never paid attention to those things.

That’s when I blurted out the line that changed everything. I tried to sound as natural as possible, even though inside I was dying.

—We’re men, it’s nothing.

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

—Well… that’s true, young man —he answered.

That was the turning point. From that day on Hugo gained a confidence he hadn’t had before. Since we had already seen each other “in confidence,” he started working shirtless because of the heat, and I finally had free rein to look at him without making him uncomfortable. He walked around the house bare-chested, showing off that chest and those vein-filled arms while he sweated, and I couldn’t stop watching the way his abs flexed every time he bent or stretched.

As the days passed, he also got bossier and more familiar. He stopped saying “young man” and started addressing me as “you,” as if we’d known each other all our lives. “Hey, you, move and bring me something to drink,” or “come here and hold this, but hard, don’t be lazy,” he’d throw at me with a confidence that left me speechless. He treated me with a roughness that, instead of annoying me, sent me through the roof.

***

One afternoon, while I was holding a plank so he could nail it in place, he asked me something that left me silent for a few seconds.

—And you? Don’t you have a girlfriend? I get the feeling you’re very particular about women… —seeing me stay quiet, he went on, laughing—: Or is what you need a man?

I froze like a post. He didn’t even wait for an answer. He finished hammering hard, letting the muscles of his sweaty back tense one last time, dropped the hammer, and started rummaging through the toolbox. Without looking at me, with a naturalness that gave me chills, he dropped the bomb.

—So what? Have you ever sucked someone’s cock? —he asked it head-on, while still searching for some damn wrench.

I went dry, my heart trying to leap out of my chest. He didn’t wait for me to stammer anything out. He leaned against a workbench and, with complete calm, unbuttoned his pants. He stayed there, letting his boxer briefs show, and said, “Do you want to suck it?” while nodding for me to come closer.

I felt totally exposed. The way he said it, without even looking at me, in that man’s voice that knows exactly what it’s provoking, left me defenseless. My face was burning, but inside I was a mixture of fear and a heat that wouldn’t fit in my body. My cock was so hard against my pants it hurt, and that smell of effort, of hot skin, finished driving me insane.

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

I knelt in front of him. His strong legs were on either side of my face and that imposing bulge was right in front of me. When I finally pulled down the waistband of his boxer briefs, I lost my breath. 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 hip. What shocked me most was how veiny it was, with those ridges running along it like cables. The tip was large, a deep purple, shining with the fluid already starting to bead. The smell hit me full force: skin trapped in fabric and a whole day’s sweat from work. It was burning hot, giving off a heat that slapped my face.

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

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

I was so dazed I don’t know how many seconds I stayed still, but I do remember the tug at my neck and the order: “suck it.” I didn’t wait another second. When I took it into my mouth, the first thing I felt was how huge it was. It filled me completely, forcing my jaw open as wide as it could go, and the heat it gave off burned my tongue. Since I was inexperienced, at first I could barely even 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, of a man’s skin and the day’s sweat, but I loved it. Every time he pushed a little farther forward I felt like I was going to choke, but having him there, dominating me, turned me on in a way I had never known. I stretched my lips trying to take in all of him, and even though I was short of breath, I didn’t want to let him go.

While I strained to suck hard and saliva dripped down my chin, I looked up. Hugo was leaning against the bench, arms stretched back and chest soaked, looking down at me with narrowed eyes, enjoying my clumsiness. Suddenly his expression changed, becoming darker, more animal. He got tired of my novice slowness, grabbed my hair with both hands, and, not letting me breathe, started fucking my mouth with a rough, steady rhythm.

I was no longer the one moving; he was the one thrusting his hips, driving that veiny mass deep into my throat. I felt the hard удар of his groin against my nose and the smell of sweat made me dizzy. Every thrust made me gag, but he didn’t care: he kept my head pinned, forcing me to take him. The sound was filthy, a constant slapping of my saliva. My eyes were full of tears, but seeing him above me, muscles taut, drove me wild.

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

I felt his body go rigid as stone. He gave two deeper thrusts, nearly choking me, and let out a growl that echoed through the whole room. I felt the throbbing of his cock inside my mouth before the first spurt, a hot, thick shot that hit my throat. He didn’t let go of my hair; he kept me pressed there, forcing me to swallow every drop while he kept pulsing. When he finally finished, he let me go and collapsed back, breathing hard, while I stayed on the floor catching my breath with his taste still on my tongue.

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

—Wow… not bad at all. Look, let’s keep this between us… and if you behave, we’ll do it again.

He let me go and, without saying more, turned back to the hammer.

—Now move and bring me another glass of water, you left me dry —he ordered without looking at me, going back to work as if nothing had happened.

Still on the floor, with his taste in my throat and my heart racing, I got up, went to the kitchen, and couldn’t take it anymore: I jerked off until I got out every 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 the hour or the place in the house; if we were alone and he gave me that nod, I already knew I had 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 there between his legs, smelling wood and sweat, giving him pleasure while he kept drinking his soda as if nothing were happening. Other times he’d corner me against a half-finished wall, brick dust dirtying my clothes, and he’d fuck my mouth with that 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 to the back of my throat without complaint, enjoying the way his groans grew louder. Every encounter was just as intense: him always in control, always rough, and me always surrendered.

Until one week my parents stayed home and we couldn’t do anything. Hugo looked for me with desperate eyes, and I was dying to have him, but there was no way. The first day we were alone again he didn’t waste a second. The moment the door shut, he grabbed my arm and took me to the back room. He dropped me to my knees in one motion and ordered me to suck him off. I started blowing him with a new kind of hunger, giving it everything I had, but after a few minutes he grabbed my hair and pulled me away suddenly.

—Enough with just sucking it. This week you’ve had me worked up 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 on the bed without an ounce of gentleness and climbed on top of me, prying my legs apart with his rough hands. He spit into his palm and ran it all along himself, giving it a shine that made me swallow hard. He set the tip at my entrance and looked at me fixedly, with that same superiority as always.

—Relax, because if you tense up it’ll hurt more —he rasped.

I felt the first push and let out a strangled cry into the pillow. It was too big; I felt like he was splitting me in two. He stopped for a second so I could get used to it, but the heat got the better of him: he spit again and, with one single thrust, buried himself all the way inside me. The weight of his sweaty body on top of mine and the sensation of having him driven deep inside drove me crazy. He started pounding me with a rough rhythm, making the bed creak with every hit of his hips.

He had no mercy. I begged him between moans to go slower, but he didn’t even listen; on the contrary, he sped up with dry, deep thrusts that made me bounce on the mattress. To shut me up, he threw himself onto me with all his weight, lowered his head to my chest and caught a nipple between his lips, sucking hard, alternating hot licks with short bites that sent shocks all the way to my tip.

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

When we pulled apart, both of us panting, he gave a growl and, without pulling out, lifted my legs onto his shoulders, folding me completely in half. In that position he got in much deeper. He braced himself on his arms, the veins in his biceps about to burst, and started pumping into me with animal force. Without stopping, he grabbed my hips and dragged me across the mattress until I was at the edge of the bed. He planted his feet on the floor, legs wide apart, and from there used all his height to sink into me.

Seeing him like that, standing, his body streaming sweat that shone under the light and his thighs tense as stone, was an image I would never forget. With every thrust I felt like I was about to explode without even being touched. It was such an extreme pleasure it burned, but I couldn’t even move my hands; I knew that with one single touch I’d come, and I wanted it to last forever.

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

—Turn around! —he ordered, grabbing my waist and putting me on all fours in one quick motion. Before I could get settled, I felt him climb back onto the mattress and, without anesthesia, drive back into me. From behind he hit the exact spot, making me gasp while my own cock hung heavy, dripping onto the sheets and leaving me able to do nothing but take it.

He didn’t give me even a second to catch my breath. I was on all fours, hands sunk into the mattress and back arched while he battered me with a force that made my whole body vibrate. With each thrust my arms gave out and I ended up collapsing chest-first onto the bed. He didn’t care: he took advantage of my surrender to sink in deeper.

In that collapse my cock was crushed against the sheets. The friction of his weight pushing me into the mattress and the pressure inside were too much for my novice body. Without being able to touch myself, moaning into the pillow, I felt the spasm run through my back. I came with a force that made me tremble all over, staining the sheet and my stomach, while he kept going without mercy, enjoying the way I clenched around his cock with every spasm.

—You’re squeezing me, little bitch —he told me between gasps.

I felt his hands smacking my ass, sharp blows that left my skin burning, while he covered my back with rough kisses and bites. He took me by the hair and yanked me back, forcing my neck to arch as he drove in a thrust that knocked the air out of me. He stayed like that for a few seconds, pushing with all his weight. The pressure was so brutal that my cock, freshly spent, reacted again and started dripping anew.

Then the intensity rose even more. With an expert motion, he flipped me without pulling out and left me on my back in a flash. He pinned my legs against his chest and started giving me the strongest thrusts of the whole afternoon; the clash of our bodies was the only thing that could be heard in the room. I saw his neck tense and his eyes close, completely gone. He gave three final brutal thrusts, and just when I thought I was going to pass out from pleasure, he pulled out hard.

—Look at me! —he shouted, grabbing his cock and jerking himself in front of my eyes with frantic speed until he let out a deep roar. I felt the hot, thick jets hit my stomach and chest, covering me completely as he emptied himself over me, marking me in the way I liked most.

Afterward he collapsed beside me, gasping, drenched in sweat. I was weak, 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 once more now that he was relaxed. I started sucking him with hungry devotion while he let out a sigh and closed his eyes. The taste was much stronger and more concentrated, a mix of his own release and the sweat from his groin.

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

After a few seconds he put a hand on my forehead and pushed me away firmly.

—I have to go —he said as he got to his feet.

He stood up from the bed completely naked, without a trace of shame. I remained sprawled there, unable to move a muscle, eyes fixed on his broad back as he crossed the room. Before going out to fetch his clothes, he stopped in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder at me.

—You know —he warned me, serious—: nobody must know about this.

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

***

After that first time, the air between us grew heavy, charged with an electricity I felt whenever we passed close by. Hugo shot me burning looks while he worked, sweat tracing the muscles of his body, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. Seeing that the renovation was almost finished and that he had only a few days left in 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 wild encounters in any dark corner, but it wasn’t like before anymore: now I sucked him off with total desperation, wanting to etch his taste into my memory before he left.

The last encounter had nothing gentle about it. We took advantage of the fact that no one was home and locked ourselves in all afternoon, until we were both completely spent. Hugo was unrestrained, as if he wanted to leave me marked before the job ended. He took me from one side of the room to the other, whispered dirty things in my ear, and put me back in position again and again. He made me cum over and over, driving me to the limit with his hands and his thrusts, until not another drop would come out. We ended up both sprawled out, sticky, tangled in the rumpled sheets.

What I’ll never forget from that afternoon is seeing him afterward, lying there, his body drenched in sweat. I kept staring at his cock: even limp, resting now, it was still an imposing thing, thick and marked by those veins that had had me crazy the whole time. Seeing it there after I had emptied myself completely reminded me how rough he had been with me.

There were no long goodbyes or corny words. He got up with that commanding air, shook off the sweat, and started dressing while I was still trying to catch my breath. He gave me one last look up and down, as if checking the mess he’d 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 it couldn’t have been otherwise, I knelt him off in the tool room, leaving him dry before he left.

Some time later, wanting to do it again, I looked for him to see if he’d come by once more. The surprise was another one: I found out his wife was pregnant. It hit me hard, but I didn’t want that kind of trouble, so I decided not to look for him anymore. I was left only with the memory that he gave me the best fucking I’d ever had and that he was the man who, without meaning to, finally taught me who I was.