LON STEPPED under the streaming hot water and sighed as what seemed to be a month’s worth of red dust and a layer of mud washed away down the drain. With languid movements he soaped his large, hairy body and watched as the water ran from a reddish brown to an opaque white. He scrubbed and washed all the little nooks and crannies where that fucking Pilbara dust would get to and anticipated the softness of his bed.
Mining in the Pilbara region of Western Australia meant long hours in the worst fucking conditions you could imagine—searing heat, insects attacking you, boring, repetitive work, and a general lack of comfort—for an absolute fortune in salary. Men (and the few women brave and stupid enough) worked twelve-hour shifts, seven days a week. Lon was part of the large FIFO crowd—fly-in, fly-out. The mining companies flew planeloads of employees up to the mines for their shifts, accommodated them for the duration in tiny rooms called dongas, then flew them home again. Lon was on a four-on-two-off rotation, which equated to twenty-eight days of twelve-hour shifts without a break, then a turnaround of fourteen days to sit on his arse and do nothing while twiddling his thumbs, just waiting for the day he flew back again.
At least the weather was better in Perth than in Newman, where the mine was.
And it wasn’t like anyone was waiting for him. Lon had no family to meet him each time he landed at the airport. No wife, no kids—no boyfriend. He wondered what it would be like to have a boyfriend waiting for him, but that thought soon morphed into the thought of what would a boyfriend of his look like? Lon took them any way they came—big, small, needy, greedy, hairy, smooth, old, young, masculine, feminine. You name it, he’d done it. All they really needed was…. Well, you know.
He rinsed his hair and scrubbed at his full beard. Shaving was a waste of time at the mines, so he grew one out every rotation. The next step in his cleansing routine was to step up to the mirrors and trim his beard down, then shave everything but a short goatee so that he wouldn’t scare the little old ladies who lived in the van next to him.
The water was still running hot, and Lon considered taking care of the erection that had sprung to full tilt while he was showering. He fingered his heavy sack but sighed and turned off the water instead. If he came while he was in the shower, he was liable to fall asleep, and that would cause a large problem. Trying to carry his muscular frame out of the small cubicle of a caravan park shower would require some beefy-fireman help. On second thought….
He grinned to himself as he toweled off. His erection wasn’t going anywhere soon, and any guy who was in the shower rooms at this time of night would just have to put up with the sight of his large cock saying hello. It was late—his flight was delayed and didn’t land at Perth Airport until after 10:30 p.m. Most of the caravanning and camping community had retired for the night, since the grounds had a noise rule that kicked in at ten o’clock.
Lon opened the door and stepped out to the basins, naked and unashamed. He was big all over—from his height to his chest to his cock. Mama made this boy extra-large. His chest was wide and shaped from the days he spent in the gym while on downtime. It matched the impressive girth of his muscled thighs. He was covered with a healthy pelt that had some men drooling and wanting him to be their leather daddy. He just shook his head at them. He didn’t do that sort of shit. If you wanted someone to boss you around and tell you what to do, then go visit your parents.
He started for half a second as he registered a second body in the shower rooms. A light-haired, lanky lad was leaning against the far basin, staring intently at himself in the mirror. They made eye contact with each other for a moment through the reflecting surface before Lon saw the guy’s eyes drop to check out what Lon usually kept covered. Bright blue eyes widened—either in appreciation or fear—and a cute mouth fell open as the guy stared at Lon’s gear.
Lon had no time for polite modesty. He was tired, exhausted, and nearly completely clean. He threw his dirty mining uniform on the ground, slung his wet towel over his shoulder, and dumped his bag full of toiletries on the shelf above the basin. He needed to shave. Then he would throw the towel around his waist and walk the three vans to his home. He reckoned it was about four steps to his bed once in his van, and it would take less than two minutes to be asleep. None of that required clothing.
The electric trimmer slotted neatly into the power point above the basin. He was ready to start on his beard when he realized the other person in the room was still staring.
The kid was probably legal age—just. That in-between age where people didn’t know whether to call you a boy or a man. His hair was wheat colored and styled with some sort of gel to make it stand up straight from his skull, then flop artfully to the side. He hadn’t moved from the basin apart from turning his head so he could stare at Lon, four basins up—well, stare at one particular part of Lon.
Lon growled low in his throat. Had the guy never seen a dick before?
“Either you get on your knees and take care of this for me, or you quit staring. I’m not in any fucking mood for catering to your pansy-arse objections to my God-given right to be naked in the shower room.”
Turning away from the dickhead, he clicked on the trimmer and began neatening the length of his beard around his mouth. He then thumbed the comb off the headset, lowered the trimmer to its shortest length, and started on his head, taking all the hair off his skull until just a black shadow remained. Some hot water in the basin, shaving foam, and a razor, and the rest of his beard came off, leaving a tidy little goatee and not much else.
He cleaned up, washed away his mess, and was wiping down the trimmer when movement caught his eye. The boy-man was still in the room. He had moved to the corner where he was hidden in the shadows, but he was still looking Lon’s way.
“What the fuck, man?” He spun to confront his intruder, wiped off his face, and strode to the corner to challenge him. But before Lon could reach for the kid’s collar and give him a shake, the boy dropped to his knees and looked up at Lon with longing.
“Can I take option A?”
Lon was confused for a moment before he remembered what he had growled. Either you get on your knees and take care of this for me, or you quit staring.
So if this boy wanted option A….
Lon skidded to a halt and contemplated the cute, boyish face in front of him. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you legal, boy?”
The last thing he needed was some mama coming at him, complaining he’d taken advantage.
The boy raised his chin in offense. “Of course. I’ll be twenty-two next month.”
Erection: check. Age: check. Willingness: check. Location: could be a problem.
There was a shower cubicle two feet away that had a locking door. He grabbed his willing, old-enough hottie and hustled him through the door and onto the wooden bench provided for changing. The door closed easily and locked, a single twist of the cold water tap provided enough noise cover for what was about to happen, and Lon was in anticipation heaven.
He watched closely for any fear or trepidation and found none. His blond-streaked gawker was completely on board for this, reaching willingly for Lon and his erection. There was no hesitation from the guy. He stared down at the large cock he had in his hand and leaned forward to lick. There was some tentative tongue work, some gentle hands on his sack and length, and then came the exquisite sensation of a hot, loving mouth. Lon could barely keep from moaning.
He wondered if he was already in his bed asleep, but there was still a guy attached to his dick, so it was real. The guy was wearing typical Aussie beachwear—board shorts in some blue Hawaiian design, a Billabong label T-shirt, and rubber thongs on his feet. Lon didn’t know if the erection he could see peeping out of those board shorts was normal beachwear, though. But it would certainly make the trip to the beach more interesting for guys like Lon.
He placed his hand on the kid’s head and combed his fingers through his hair. It was rough and sticky from the gel product the hottie had used, but Lon enjoyed the feel anyway. He had thought the guy had a cute mouth, but he hadn’t realized how talented that mouth was.
“Fuck, I’m close,” he told the kid.
He was rewarded with extra suction and greater speed. The guy’s hands were busy too—one on Lon’s scrotum and one fingering through the hair on Lon’s belly. Lon tried to refrain from thrusting—he hated when guys did that to him without permission—so instead he fisted one hand in the hottie’s hair and with the other, clutched at his shoulder.
Then with a muted roar he came, spurting into that warm, willing mouth. “Oh, fuck. Oh, yes. Oh, that’s good.”
The sound of the water running couldn’t completely hide the sound of the mouth slurping on Lon’s dick, but Lon didn’t give a stuff. He pulled out and panted for a moment, still holding a fistful of hair and another of T-shirt. His partner-in-crime sat waiting for him to recover, looking up at him with shy but smug eyes. His lips were wet and swollen, giving his mouth a delicious, just-kissed look. Lon hadn’t seen a more beautiful sight for months.
A quick look down confirmed that the young guy still had an erection, so Lon dragged him to his feet. The guy was thin and rather tall—but Lon was still bigger all over. He was at least a head taller. He grabbed a nice palmful of tight, firm arse and pulled the slighter man into his body.
“That was fantastic. Now it’s your turn. What can I do for you?” Lon was a fair man—an orgasm should be repaid with an orgasm. The look of disbelief on the younger man told Lon that others before him hadn’t been so generous. “What do you want? My mouth, my hand, my fingers?”
The guy stared at him with his blue eyes for a long while, a certain need and want shining through, but Lon waited for him to speak. He moistened those swollen lips with his wet, pink tongue, causing another unexpected surge of lust to careen through Lon’s stomach. Shit, this guy could really get me going again.
Finally the young man spoke. “Anything?”
The guy pulled away a little and turned so he was plastered face first against the wooden door of the stall. He pushed his shorts and briefs down his thighs. His pale buttcheeks were visible, rounding out from the material in a way that had Lon’s cock filling with desire again. Lon couldn’t help but place a big, meaty hand on that display of skin. The contrast between his tanned hand and that pale skin was a sight to behold.
“Come up behind me,” the hottie begged. “Use your hand on me from behind.”
That was completely agreeable to Lon. He stepped in close and rubbed his renewed erection into the guy’s crack. With hands splayed on the painted wood, the young guy pushed back and moaned, tilting his hips to allow Lon more access to that part of his body. Lon nestled in and reached around to find the waiting cock. The tip was wet and dripping, its length and girth respectable. The guy’s pubic area was almost hairless. Lon slid one hand up under the guy’s T-shirt to fondle his nipples while he tugged on his cock and rhythmically thrust his hips against the sensitive skin between the guy’s arse cheeks.
It didn’t take long. There was a hitch in his breath and a tensing of his body as the younger man froze momentarily before ejaculating hard. His spunk splashed on the door and Lon’s hand. Lon continued to gently squeeze the flesh in his hand until the shivering stopped.
“Oooh.” The young guy gave an exclamation of utter relief, as if he had been holding that one in for a while. Lon chuckled and reluctantly removed his hands from nubile flesh. A couple of steps and he twisted the hot water tap. He cupped a handful of water and rinsed his shrinking dick. He hadn’t come again, but his cock realized that playtime was over and was cooling down.
Once clean he stepped back and noticed the guy he’d just jerked off had removed his shorts and underwear.
“What’s your name?” Lon asked as the hottie stepped up to the shower and pulled his shirt up so he could rinse off too.
He grinned at Lon over his shoulder. “Casey.”
Lon watched closely as the warm water sprayed over Casey’s flat stomach and reddened penis. God had certainly made this one beautiful. “I’m Lon.”
Casey shoved his cotton briefs under the water to get them wet and then used them to wash his semen off the door. Lon simply watched and drank in the sight of his long, lean legs, pert butt, and manly genitals. He wanted to touch, but no longer had permission. Encounter over, hands to yourself. Casey turned off the water and stepped into his board shorts once again—this time going commando—and shoved the wet briefs into his pocket. He nodded to Lon, who unlocked the door and stepped out. Nobody else was in the shower room. Thankfully.
Lon’s towel and toiletries were still there, so he packed them up, ready to depart. Casey was lingering, leaning against the basins and observing Lon’s actions. It was a little disconcerting, so Lon growled, “What?”
Casey shrugged. “I dunno. I was wondering why I’d never seen you before? Are you just passing through? On holidays? I thought this part of the park was for permanent residents.”
The caravan park was roughly divided into three sections—the end section was for permanent stayers who lived in cottages and large vans. They had gardens and fences and all sorts of things that made the place look inviting but rather junky at the same time. Then there was a section for temporary vans—caravans and campervans. Those on holidays paid for a powered site by the night and never stayed longer than about three weeks. The section closest to the park’s entrance was a vast grassy area for tents and campers to set up. Lon would’ve guessed that that’s where Casey was from. A lot of backpackers and schoolies stayed there.
“I’m permanent,” Lon said. “I’ve just been working away for a bit. How long have you been here?”
He shrugged again. “A couple of months. I’m staying with my grandmother until…. Well, I dunno. Until I get my shit together, I guess.”
Lon didn’t know how to reply to that. He wrapped the towel around his waist and gathered his gear, ready to walk back to his van and find his bed. “So….”
“Can I stay with you tonight?” Casey’s words were rushed and completely unexpected. Lon felt the breath steal from his lungs as his surprise registered. Casey was looking at him with hopeful blue eyes that were nearly pleading.
“Look. I’m dead on my feet, man. I’m just going back to my van to crash—probably for a good twelve hours. I’m not up to… doing anything else tonight.”
Casey had his hands out in denial. “No, no, no. I just wanna sleep. Nothing else, Lon. Can I just…? I just don’t want to go back to my grandmother’s tonight. I just want to be… safe. I promise I won’t take up much room?”
A guy who looked all of seventeen years old? Who sucked the cock of the man he’d just met in the shower room of a caravan park? And he just wanted to be safe? Hell—a baby crawling over broken glass would be safer. Casey was lucky that he picked Lon to be with. There were other guys who would….
Lon sighed. “Sure. Come on, mate. I’ll give you about a third of the mattress, okay?” Lon grinned as Casey looked him up and down.
“I guess that’s fair.” Casey relaxed his shoulders slightly as if he’d been holding the weight of the world and suddenly someone had relieved him of the load—for a little while at least.
It might only be sex between them, but Lon could tell when someone needed a little bit more. Just a little bit of something to show that they weren’t alone, that someone cared. He reached out, cupped Casey’s jaw, and drew him near so he could kiss his forehead. “Let’s go, mate.”