Becoming a Carpenter (M-Desp) per Dump Buddy's request



[ Hot Wet Photosets ] [ Join Paysite ] [ Return To Main Board ] [ WSP Home Page ]

Posted by Frodo on January 24, 2000 at 11:05

Written this morning per Dump Buddy's request:

Becoming a Carpenter

by Frodo46888@aol.com

Brian was up at the crack of dawn. This was to be his first day working for his uncle at the construction site and he wanted to do everything right. His family had labeled him a screw-up all through high school, but he'd show them he could do a good job when it was something that he liked. Now that he had graduated - just barely - he had an opportunity in the real world doing a man's work.

He showered thoroughly and selected his clothes with care. He wanted his considerable physical attributes to be visible but not flaunted. His shirt and jeans were clean but not new, fitting well without being excessively snug. He wanted the others on the job to see him as a capable worker without vanity. It was of supreme importance to Brian that he be accepted and fit in.

He had a big breakfast, since it would be six hours until lunch. He packed two sandwiches, an apple, several cookies and a large soda in his lunchbox. After checking himself in the mirror to assure that he presented just the right image, he drove to the company office trailer.

He was early, but he went into the room where all the workers assembled before they were brought to the work site, and he sipped coffee as men straggled in. He introduced himself to each with a firm handshake, though most were aware that the boss's nephew would be on the payroll starting this week and their attitudes suggested that Brian had gotten the job purely because of his family connection. He knew he would have to show them he was capable and mature to dispel this notion.

At 7:30, the foreman sent the eight men to the company van and drove them to the last new house that was to be constructed in the development. Right now it was just a poured foundation sitting on a barren lot with a pile of recently-delivered lumber, but before the week was out it would be a two-story garrison colonial. Everyone piled out and went to the truck that had followed them to pick up their tools and begin work. They all seemed to know what they needed to do with little direction from George, the foreman.

George was in his fifties, experienced at all of the building trades, strong and intelligent, firm but kind. All the workers seemed to respect him, and Brian thought he would be a wonderful teacher. George set Brian to work cutting 2X6's to the lengths requested by the senior carpenters. "Measure twice and cut once" was in his mind as Brian worked with care and efficiency.

One of the men returned with a stud and said, "It's too short. Cut it again." Brian stood there puzzled with the stud in his hands, and then two or three of the others pointed and guffawed, having caught "the new kid" in an impossible request. His ears reddened, but he laughed with them, then returned to work. George had set up a big coffee thermos for those that had shown up too late to partake at the trailer, and Brian took advantage of a ten-minute break to join the men there, trying to establish himself as an equal. He wanted to be friendly but not overly familiar, respectful but not servile. Fitting in was hard work.

It was close to 9:30 when Brian became aware of a growing pressure in his bladder. Since getting up, he had had several cups of coffee, and his kidneys were in high gear. He looked around for the usual portable john, but apparently it had not been delivered yet. He pushed aside his momentary concern and continued to cut, but the pressure continued to build with alarming speed.

As casually as he could, Brian asked one of the men, "Isn't there supposed to be one of those portapotties here?"

"If it isn't here by noontime, George will take us all back to the trailer. Why, ya gotta piss already?"

Brian flushed and said nothing, but he thought he detected a smirk on the man's face as he left with his studs. They had all been drinking coffee, but no one else seemed to be having his problem. He had never had trouble holding his pee, but these men seemed to have enormous capacity. He couldn't understand it, but he felt he should be able to match their endurance.

By 10:00, Brian was in pain. Every step jolted his bladder, which screamed for relief. There was no comfortable position, and stooping down compressed his abdomen and made the urgency almost overwhelming. It was hard to concentrate on his work, and he cut one stud a foot too short, resulting in sarcastic remarks from the carpenter.

Then the spasms began, and when he thought no one was looking, Brian gave his cock squeezes of increasing firmness to keep from squirting into his jeans. He knew that the sturdy, faded denim would become dark blue if he should leak even a bit. He was grinding his teeth with anxiety. Walking was torture, but standing still was worse.

"Jeez, you're walking like you got a load in your pants," George commented. "You got a problem?"

Already sweaty with panic, Brian's face turned crimson. He didn't want to show weakness to this man and the others, so he shook his head and returned to his saw. The spasms grew stronger, and he felt a bit of wetness around his balls. Using every bit of strength and clenching his jaw, he managed to contain it, but minutes later he sensed a brief, hot jet into his briefs. When he looked down, the seam in his crotch was darkening.

His heart pounding, Brian became terrified that he would publicly disgrace himself. Swallowing his pride, he stiffly went over to the foreman.

"George, I ..."

And then a powerful contraction sent a massive spurt from his cock. Another and another followed, and Brian was helpless to stop it. Dark wetness blossomed on the front of his jeans and cascaded down his legs, into and over his work boots, and splashed onto the ground. George's eyes widened in amazement. Brian was paralyzed with terror, and the flow went on and on. After the last final, feeble squirts had been expelled, he stood there in a pool of pee, thoroughly soaked. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

George smiled, then roared with laughter at the sight. All work stopped, and the men gathered to view the spectacle and add their own laughter and comments. Brian wanted to run, but he couldn't make his legs work.

Then George, still chuckling, threw his great arm around Brian's shoulders and said, "Welcome to the club. There ain't a man here who hasn't pissed himself at one time or another. Maybe we shoulda told you about the bucket."

George led him into the house foundation. In one corner was a large pail, already half full of piss. "This is what we use until the portapotty comes," he explained. Then he took Brian to the van and pulled out a ragged pair of paint-spattered jeans. "Climb in and put these on," he said. I always come prepared."

Brian endured wisecracks for the rest of the day as the other workmen were reminded of his humiliation each time they saw the familiar paint-pants. But the experience had the effect of breaking the ice with his workmates, and in the days that followed he achieved a degree of camaraderie with them. He might really become a carpenter after all!

Email:


Replies :



[ Hot Wet Photosets ] [ Join Paysite ] [ Return To Main Board ] [ WSP Home Page ]