I never thought my cravings for older men would lead me to this. But there I was, standing on my dad’s construction site, surrounded by burly, weathered men who smelled like sweat and sawdust. My heart was racing, and not just because of the summer heat. I could feel the weight of their eyes on me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they could tell what I was thinking.
It all started when my dad asked me to drop off his wallet at the site. I was hesitant—I didn’t want to run into him while I was there—but I couldn’t say no. Not when he was paying for my college. Besides, I’d been curious about the men he worked with. They were exactly my type: rough around the edges, with hands calloused from years of hard labor. When I arrived, the site was buzzing with activity. Men in hard hats and work boots moved around with purpose, their muscles flexing under their dirt-stained shirts. I felt a familiar pang of desire, but I pushed it down. I had a job to do.
I handed the wallet to the foreman, a rugged guy in his late 40s named Hank. He had a thick beard and a voice that rumbled like thunder. “Thanks, kid,” he said, giving me a nod. “Your dad’s around here somewhere if you wanna say hi.” I shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. Just here to drop these off.” Hank smirked, his eyes lingering on me for a moment too long. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, you know where to find him.” I turned to leave, but something about the way he looked at me made me pause. Was it my imagination, or was there something more in that gaze?
I shook it off and started walking, but before I could get far, I heard someone call my name. “Brandon, right?” I turned to see a handsome guy—maybe mid-40s—with a chiseled jaw and a mischievous grin. He was wearing a tight tank top that showed off his chest hair, and his biceps were practically bursting out of the sleeves. “Yeah, that’s me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Tony,” he said, stepping closer. “Your dad’s mentioned you. Says you’re on the wrestling team. Must be pretty strong, huh?” I shrugged, feeling my cheeks flush.
“I hold my own.” Tony’s grin widened. “I bet you do. You ever wrestle with a real man?” My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “I mean, you ever let someone show you how it’s really done?” I could feel my body responding, and I knew I was in trouble. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted him. I wanted all of them.
Tony led me to a secluded area behind a stack of lumber. The air was thick with the scent of wood and sweat, and my mind was racing with possibilities. He pushed me against the wall, his body pressing into mine, and I could feel his hardness through his jeans. “You like older men, don’t you?” he growled, his hands roaming over my chest. I nodded, unable to speak. He smirked and started unbuckling his belt. “Good. Because I’ve been watching you since you got here, and I can’t wait to see what you’ve got.”
Then he was pushing me to my knees. You can imagine what happened next. And of course, it didn’t end with Tony. “You ready?” he asked, his voice rough with desire. “Yes,” I whispered. I wanted him to take me, to claim me. There was Joe, and others.
I left the site with my head spinning. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, but I also couldn’t wait for it to happen again.
I knew I was playing with fire, but I didn’t care. I was addicted to the thrill, to the way these older men made me feel. As I drove home, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d done.
And I knew one thing for sure: I wanted more.
