Meet Cute to Hot Fuck: his rough hands…

6 min read

Bracing myself against the metal railing, I slam my ass back to meet the thrusts of the lean, tanned construction worker who is fucking me full-force. His rigid cock slides into my slick pussy like they were made for each other, the perfect fit. The smooth, hypnotic plunge and glide, in and out, makes my senses sing.

We’re eight stories up on a semi-constructed building, the sun on my bare back, the breeze teasing my nipples even stiffer. I look down at the boards and scaffolding beneath my feet, the rubble and lumber far below us. It’s exciting to be trespassing into this unknown world, to feel a virtual stranger’s hard cock filling me as his rough hands leave dark smears on my skin. The oily fingerprints will wash off, but I’ll remember the imprint of his cock inside me for a long time…

As you’ll know if you’re a regular reader, I’m perfectly capable of picking up hot guys on my own, but my dog will insist on playing wingman…or perhaps that should be ‘wingdog’? She’s a beauty, a mixed breed the size and color of a fox red Labrador, with gorgeous amber eyes that look like they’re ringed in kohl. She’s also super friendly, and will fix her chosen victim with a stare of laser-like intensity, wagging her tail in a circular motion if they show any interest. No tender-hearted man can resist.

We were walking past a construction site on a sunny morning when she set her sights on one of the workers. She sat down and refused to budge until he came over to say hello. She has excellent taste. He was just my type, dark and lean, and most importantly (in her eyes at least) a dog lover. He made a big fuss of her while he chatted to me… while he flirted, to be honest. And naturally, I flirted right back.

“I can’t believe you just engineered such an obvious Meet Cute*,” I said to the dog as we strolled away happily, both basking in the attention of the Hot Guy.

The following morning, she insisted on walking the same route — a big, stubborn dog is hard to budge — and when we walked past the site, the Hot Guy rushed out to greet us.

“I was hoping you’d come by,” he said. “I have biscuits for the dog, if that’s ok?”

I couldn’t help but be charmed, and the Hot Guy — who introduced himself as Jozef — chatted for as long as he dared before the foreman came looking for him.

“I’m only on this site for the rest of the week,” he said as he headed back through the gates. “Will you come this way again tomorrow?”

“That’s really up to the dog,” I said.

Of course the dog, utterly besotted, wanted to see Jozef again the next morning. This time he was already waiting for us outside the gates — armed with biscuits again — but he seemed a little sad. “I wanted to ask you on a proper date, but they’re transferring me to a site in Aberdeen — I’m taking the overnight train. Will you at least meet me for a coffee before I go?”

I agreed. I’d be sad to see him go before we had the chance to get to know each other better, but as he was Polish and had no friends or family here, I thought maybe I could give him a send off to ensure he remembered London fondly…

That afternoon, once the site had cleared, I met Josef outside the gate — without the dog, this time — and we sat in the park opposite and crammed several hours of getting-to-know-you chat into the few minutes we had left. He talked about missing his home in the countryside, and how he’d loved being on this site because it overlooked the park.

“The view must be spectacular from the top,” I said. “Why don’t you show me?”

So here we are, up on the scaffolding, grabbing our chance to say nice to meet you and goodbye and good luck with a frantic fuck. We’re partially hidden by the scaffolding and tarpaulin around us, although if anybody looked up I guess they’d spot Jozef behind me, bright orange hard hat like a beacon as he pumps his hips, flesh slapping against flesh each time he slams into me.

Sneaking onto a construction site is pretty easy if you know how, and I have a head for heights so our precarious situation doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Maybe that’s because I’m utterly focused on the pleasure that’s to be found in touching someone’s body for the first time. Returning my kisses with surprised delight — I don’t think he expected to get quite this lucky — Jozef has been happy to let me take the lead, pulling off his T-shirt to expose his sinewy builder’s body, gasping wide-eyed as my hand slides down to stroke his bulging crotch. He reaches for me, then hesitates.

“It’s okay, you can touch me,” I smile.

“But my hands are dirty…”

“I don’t care,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him harder, body pressed to body. It’s like flipping a switch; his inhibitions melt away and he holds me close, one hand sliding up under my skirt to cup my ass, fingers moving between my thighs. He rubs me through my panties, soon getting me wet enough that my juice is soaking through the cotton to moisten his fingertips. My hard hat tumbles, rolling off the scaffolding and falling to the street below, my long blonde hair cascading down. His fingers burrow deeper, beneath the cotton, skimming along my slit and then pushing inside me.

“Harder,” I gasp into his ear, leg hooking over his hip to give him deeper access. We don’t have the luxury of days, weeks, months, to learn what the other likes. But he takes my cue, shoving his calloused fingers into me harder, hitting the sweet spot as I grind on them. One quick orgasm just sets me up for more, so I don’t hold back, rocking on his fingers, squeezing my sugar walls around them until they trigger a hot blast of bliss.

I disengage and crouch down, tugging his jeans and shorts down just far enough to let his stiff cock spring free. He has a classic construction worker’s tan, his crotch stark white in contrast to his golden brown torso, black curls nestling around the base of his dick, which is pointing up at an acute angle, perfectly straight and rock hard. It’s a nice size, big enough to make my mouth water without making my eyes water… I run my tongue over the head, tasting the tang of sweat and pre-cum, and his hips rock forward instinctively, blindly seeking entrance. Again our time poverty strikes me, and I take his hands and guide them to my head, indicating that it’s okay for him to set the pace, as I take his cock between my lips and suck it down.

I’m soon immersed in the rapturous flow state of sucking dick, lips and tongue pressing just hard enough to make him flex and groan with each stroke. Once he realizes I’m not going to gag and relaxes into it, he starts to thrust forward into my throat; I hum with pleasure, knowing he’ll feel the vibration right down to his balls. I can feel the swelling, tautening, rising surge approaching, and I know I could so easily make him cum like this… but he wants to fuck me, and I let him pull back and lift me to my feet.

Our position up here is just too hazardous to risk anything that will get us off balance, so I lean over and grab the railing, letting him flip my dress up around my waist, tugging the top down to grab and fondle my tits as he grinds his stiff cock against my ass crack. Now I’m the impatient one, pulling my panties aside and positioning the head of his cock at my soaked opening, thrusting back as he thrusts forward so he’s sheathed inside me with one hard stroke. I’m suspended in that moment of perfect euphoria for a beat, feeling my drenched pussy stretch around his thick shaft, which feels so much bigger now it’s impaling me. He eases back, lunges forward, and we find our rhythm, the glorious driving, drilling, drag-and-sliding toward mutual ecstasy. Oblivious to the rattle of the railings and the bounce of the boards beneath our feet, traffic below and birdsong above, we fuck our hearts and brains out, me clinging on to the scaffolding, him gripping my hips as he pounds into me.

My orgasm triggers his, the contractions of my hot cunt milking his shaft until I feel it pulse and throb inside me as his cum spurts out. Slowly we disengage, unsteady on our feet now, supporting each other as we sink down onto the planks and sit there, swinging our feet out over the edge, giggling about what we just did. We linger a while, but he has a train to catch, and before long we have to climb back down to street level and say our sweet goodbyes.

He has a parting gift for me, a small enamel badge in the design of the Polish flag that he unpins from his jacket and fixes to my dress, “so you don’t forget about your Polish friend.” Then he runs for the tube station, and I wave until he’s out of sight.

I hope he’ll remember his brief stay in England with affection — and erection! But I don’t know how I’ll break it to the dog that her new friend is gone.

*A “meet cute” is “an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them.” But if you’re a dog, it’s all about the biscuits.

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More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe have a cold shower first…

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