“Hey Kid, you know the difference between kinky and perverted?” Wild Bill put down the grinder and sat down beside me.
We were up on the thirteenth floor, a hundred feet or so above the sidewalk, sitting on a big steel beam. All day he’d been grinding off angle clips, moving them two inches higher, clamping them in place; and then I would weld them back onto the steel column. All kinds of fun.
“What’s the difference Bill?” I’d been on the gang a little over two weeks, and Wild Bill and me had immediately hit it off. He was probably 20 years older than me; when he forgot to shave his head, the stubble came in grey. He had a little bit of a beer belly and a whole lot of jailhouse tattoos and some nasty scars and a collection of bent and twisted fingers that had all been broken many times over, but he was also piercingly intelligent, possessed of a sick sense of humor, and the man walked the high steel like a great, malevolent spider. I kind of had a crush on him.
I’d come on as a welder, $25 an hour cash under the table. Nobody ever asked to see my welding certification, which was good because I didn’t have one. I’d learned to weld at art school, making huge and fantastically ugly sculptures out of steel.
“The difference is if you’re kinky you use a feather. If you’re perverted you use the whole damn bird.”
Much later that day. We were across the street at the Mother Superior, getting soused on cheap red wine. Most of the gang drank Budweiser, but Wild Bill drinks wine and I did too.
“The important thing is to know whether you’re just kinky or fully perverted.” Bill does that a lot: he picks up running where he’d left a conversation hours before. He spent a lot of time in the joint (apparently he had a nasty habit of knocking over liquor stores and gas stations when he was younger), and that may be where he picked up that habit. I found it alternately disorienting and endearing.
The rest of the gang: Carlos, Tulio, Ugly John and Jitters, had cut out a while ago. It was a weeknight and we all had to be at work the next morning at seven, sober or not. The place was pretty empty and kind of dark. We were sitting at a small table in the corner, and I realized that we were sitting a little closer than strictly necessary, and that the sexual tension in the room was off the freaking charts. I hadn’t masturbated in, well in several days, and all of a sudden my clit was stiff as a jelly bean. I strongly suspected that my panties were more than a little bit moist. I really wanted him to touch me.
Wild Bill poured me a short glass of wine, killing the bottle. He leaned over the table and almost shyly placed one hand on my knee. I swear all of a sudden I was sitting in a puddle of joy juice. My panties were drenched and squishy. He ran his other hand over his scarred, bald head. “Would you care to step into my office?”
Well, that sounded just fine.
About two seconds later I found myself in a place I’d never been before: the men’s room of the Mother Superior Bar & Grill. There was a urinal on the wall, a toilette with the seat up right next to it, and a sink. The place smelled like pee and dirty man.
Wild Bill was leaning against the wall next to the paper towel dispenser, and I was on my knees on the filthy black-and-white tiled floor, trying to tug his jeans down.
Ok, I was a little drunk, and more than a little horny, and over-eager, and not very coordinated. I had a lot of trouble with his button-fly. It didn’t help that his boner was doing it’s best to burst through the denim.
Finally I got his pants down around his ankles. It was then that I noticed his underwear. Where I had expected to see tighty-whities or maybe striped boxers, Bill was wearing green, lacey, low-rise Victoria’s Secret bikini panties. And his junk was protruding eagerly from the front of them.
Well, I liked his taste in panties! I tugged the soft material down out of the way and his cock sprung out to meet me. My friends, Wild Bill was HUNG! I’m not especially a size queen, though a big dick sure looks good in porn; and I’m lousy at estimating penis size, but this was ridiculous, well outside the mean. I didn’t think I’d be able to fit the entire thing in my mouth, but I was more than willing to give it a shot.
It was thick and veiney, and the bulbous head was bright red and oozing sweet, sticky boy-juice.
“Yeah, suck me good, Kid”
Well I certainly intended to!
I opened my mouth wide and swallowed. I was right, I couldn’t get more than maybe half that thing inside my mouth. I wondered what it would be like to try taking it in certain other places. Probably pretty nice, given a proper warm-up.
His cock was alive, thrusting in my mouth, fucking my face. I did my best to keep up, grasping his tight muscular buns in each hand and swirling my tongue all over his big dick, keeping my teeth well out of the way. Bill had both hands in my hair, still thrusting, but honestly I was doing most of the work now that I knew how he wanted it, bobbing my head up and down his glistening rigid shaft. Bill was moaning and groaning so loud I thought the whole bar could probably hear, and I didn’t care at all. In fact, I thought it was pretty hot.
I slipped my middle finger in between his buttocks and started tickling his little hole.
“Aw fuck Kid, I’m gonna come!” Bill did his absolute best to jam his whole cock down my throat, and I did my absolute best to accommodate him.
He howled out loud like he was giving birth or something and jammed my face into his crotch. I penetrated his asshole with my middle finger and I felt his cock spasm in my mouth and then he was squirting copious amounts of hot sticky, salty, bitter semen. I swallowed it all and stayed with him as his proud erection started to go soft.
“Do you mind if I piss in your mouth, Kid?”
“Mmm-mmm!” I agreed happily, lips wrapped around his much-reduced dick and eyes gazing worshipfully up at his scarred face.
It took him a few minutes to relax enough. I kept expecting someone to thump on the bathroom door and ruin the moment, but thankfully we were left in peace just long enough. He closed his eyes and bit his lip and I let his soft dick rest on my tongue and then I felt his balls twitch, and finally he let a squirt of pee out. I swallowed it hungrily, and it was followed by another, stronger stream. My mouth was suddenly full of his hot, salty piss, and I was having to swallow fast and hard to keep up.
I’d never tasted pee before, and I was relieved to find that it was non-disgusting. Not exactly something I’d put on my breakfast cereal, but in the heat of the moment and fresh from the source, it certainly did the trick.
When he was all done, he withdrew his penis and I licked the last golden drops off the tip. Then he pulled his panties back up, buttoned his jeans, kissed me roughly on the lips, and we exited the men’s room together.
I half-expected a standing ovation from the bar, but nobody was paying us any attention. They were all busy getting drunk. We freshened up our wine glasses.
“That was fucking awesome Kid. You wanna hang out here some more, or do you feel like coming over to my place?”
His place. Definitely.
Wild Bill’s place was out on Staten Island. We took the ferry over there, standing on the deck in the moonlight watching the towers of Manhattan recede, bodies pressed together against the chill night wind. He was big and strong and solid and alive next to me. I was so fucking horny I could taste it. I playfully felt up his dick through his work jeans. He was nicely erect, long and hard. So Bill was still horny too.
Bill put his arms around me and whispered huskily in my ear, “I can’t wait to suck your cock.”
He still thought I was a dude.
Honestly, I hadn’t set out to fool anyone. I’m not built like a supermodel, I had short hair at the time; and if you’ve ever done outdoor construction work in New York in the winter, you know you have to wear a bunch of layers: long underwear, Carharrts, jog bra, t-shirt, sweater, thermal socks, etc etc. Even my name is kind of androgynous; and the guys mostly just called me ‘Kid’ anyway. Actually I’d kind of forgotten that there might be any confusion at all. I wasn’t the strongest of the gang, but I certainly wasn’t the weakest either; I could pull my own weight. It had never occurred to me that I had Bill fooled anyway.
I felt his erection, straining through his dirty jeans, and gave him a squeeze. “I want you to fuck me cross-eyed” I whispered back. I really wanted him to, too.
We stumbled off the ferry and into a taxi, and then after a short drive, we stumbled out of the taxi and up the steps into Wild Bill’s duplex apartment.
As soon as the front door closed behind us, we were all over each other. Bill wasn’t a physically big guy –I was a hair taller than him-, but he was incredibly strong and solid and compact and it felt really good to have my hands all over him– on his stubbly, scarred face, around his shoulders, gripping his tight little butt. He was a really good kisser; aggressive and sensitive and playful and not too much tongue.
We maneuvered, still smooching and groping, into Wild Bill’s living room. A little shove from me and he went sprawling onto the floor. His t-shirt went flying. He had a wicked scar on his chest, as if someone had tried to do unauthorized open-heart surgery on him sometime in the past, and a lot of tattoos. His jeans came off, and his green lace panties too.
I got him on his knees and stuck my face between his cheeks, doing my damndest to stick my tongue all the way up his ass while I tugged on his cock.
Bill was moaning and gurgling as I assaulted his tight little asshole with my wine-stained tongue. If I got any hornier, I was going to soak all the way through my Carharrts. I unbuttoned the fly and stuck a hand down my own panties, finding the situation down there shockingly slippery.
“If you keep that up, I’m going to come” Bill moaned into the carpet. Well, I wasn’t that far off myself.
“I want you to fuck me now” I said. I was grinding my fingers against my clitoris and teetering right on the brink. His balls were drawn up tight and his oversized cock hung down thickly.
“Condom” he said, “Lube.”
While he rolled the condom on, I pulled my workpants and undies off and knelt down in front of him, ass thrust up lasciviously. He applied lube to my rear end generously. It was cold when it touched my sensitive flesh and it made me shiver delightfully. I wiggled my ass and he chuckled.
He started fingering my butt and it felt heavenly. I really wanted him to stick a couple fingers up my cunt while he was doing that, but I couldn’t exactly ask him for that.
“Do you like that Kid?” he asked.
Oh man, the things his fingers were doing to my backside! I think my joy juice was running in streams down my thighs. “I want you to fuck my ass hard” I told him.
“You want it,” he said, replacing the finger up my butt with his latex-wrapped cock between my cheeks, “you got it!”
I felt the head of his dick nudging at my asshole, and I breathed deep, trying to relax. Between the lube and my own juice, I was incredibly wet back there. He pushed forward, and the pressure back there increased. Another gentle nudge forward. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to take this. It almost hurt, I was right on the edge.
“Yeah. Keep going. Slow.”
I couldn’t resist petting my wet cunt. His hand was pressing down on my lower back. Just as my asshole started to get used to the idea it was getting invaded by the battleship Missouri, he pressed forward and there was a flash of pain and then it was gone and suddenly he was inside me.
The sensations back there were absolutely blowing me away. I felt stretched to the limit, full of cock. He started out gently, pressing in so I thought my clit would pop, then pulling all the way out, then shoving it back inside.
“Are you all the way in?”
“Do it harder.”
He had found his rhythm now, and he was using my ass for his pleasure. I knew he was all the way in when his chest was pressed against my back. He offered me a finger to suckle on, and reached around the front, presumably to jerk me off while he fucked my ass.
I felt his puzzlement as his hand groped my crotch, feeling for something that wasn’t there and then finding something very different indeed.
He stopped mid-thrust. “You’re a girl?”
“Just fuck me!” I begged.
He complied, fucking my upturned ass harder and harder as I showed him I could take it. He buried a long crooked finger up my sopping wet pussy.
“I’m gonna come girl! I’m gonna fucking come in your asshole!”
Oh yeah. The things his cock was doing to my ass, his finger up my cunt, my clit rubbing against the palm of his hand, two months of deprivation, nothing but solo action with fingers and vibrator; I went off like a roman candle, shooting balls of flame from every orifice. I came and I came and I came, swearing like an ironworker, spitting and shaking and cursing and writing, impaled on his dick. I heard him come more than I felt it, a long, drawn-out growl/groan, and he collapsed on top of me, breathing hard as if he had just run a race.
He carefully extracted his wilting condom-covered cock from my now super-sensitive asshole. We drunkenly, sloppily kissed a little bit more, and then staggered off to his bed, where we both slept naked, like spoons in a drawer.
When Bill’s alarm went off at 4:30, his hand was cupping my breast, which felt right and good. He got up, naked in all his scarred and tattooed glory, and started the coffee, then came back to bed.
“Why didn’tcha tell me? I’d a fucked your pussy.”
I stretched and groped him lewdly. “I wanted you to fuck my ass. Maybe later on you can fuck my pussy.”
I liked watching him get dressed. He put on a pair of girls’ panties again, a red g-string. He caught me staring and winked.
Coffee and a quick taxi ride to the ferry. It was still dark out and a few bright stars braved the light polluted sky over the city. We sat quietly near the bow, surrounded by other bleary-eyed construction workers just trying to get to work.
“Sometimes I wear a butt plug to work,” Bill told me quietly, “Whatdya think, kinky or perverted?”
“Depends,” I told him, “Do I get to pee in your mouth after you eat me out?”
“Definitely perverted, Kid” Wild Bill chuckled, “Most definitely.”