Out on the Bike Path I: The Pissing Construction Worker!

Info Tristan LeMay
01 Sep. '18
Out on the Bike Path I: The Pissing Construction Worker!

   I can’t believe what just happened to me on the bike path just a few minutes ago. Holy fuck, guys!

   Almost every day during the spring, summer and fall months, I get a workout by riding my bike on the great paths we have here in Montreal. Sometimes, I get to kill do birds with one stone since I also use my bike as a great way to get around the city for work because Montreal is known for being horrible for motorized transportation because of all the construction sites and really stupid organization of said sites.

   Anyway, today, I just struck out on my bike for one of my typical workout runs. I left my place and rode over to the St. Lawrence Seaway by way of what we call “l’estacade” in French, which is basically a bridge for walkers and cyclists that crosses the river and also serves as an ice control structure during the winter. With the new Champlain Bridge being built, there is a lot of construction work going on around the bike paths, too, so sometimes, they become hard to navigate.

   That being said, today looked really quiet on the bike path although it’s a beautiful summery day. And even though we’ve had an incredibly hot summer in Montreal, today is not as humid so it’s really nice.

   As I was coming back from riding my bike on the seaway for a while toward Victoria Bridge, I started crossing the river again on the ice control structure I was telling you about. Suddenly, something caught my eye that really made me do a double take. About a hundred feet ahead of me, a construction worker wearing an orange and yellow vest and a hardhat – on the driving portion of the “estacade” – seemed to be taking a piss through the safety barrier into the river.

   ̶ What the fuck?

   Yeah. I actually said it aloud to myself. Nobody was around to hear me anyway. I just couldn’t believe my eyes and kept thinking I was too far away to actually see so there was probably no way he was doing what I was thinking. Why would a guy do that when there are two or three port-a-potties right there on that portion of the bridge for the construction workers to use.

   But as I was getting closer, I could actually see the stream of urine arcing toward the water. Although I was not impressed by the guy’s lack of manners or civility, I was quite honestly kind of impressed by his gall. Or should I say, “balls”... even if I couldn't see 'em!

   The closer I was getting to the guy, the more I kept thinking: “When he notices I’m there, he’ll feel uncomfortable and haul it back into his jeans and act like nothing happened, right?” But then, he looked straight at me as I kept coming closer. When I was almost upon him, he started jiggling his limp cock to get rid of the final drops. Then, I thought he’d quickly put his junk back in his pants but he just stood there, swinging it around like he was trying to dry it or something!

    ̶  You really shouldn’t pee in the river like that.

   I don’t know what came over me, talking to him, telling him how he should behave. I had no idea how he’d react. I was just happy there were security barriers between both sides of the “estacade” and that he was on his and I was on mine.

   – Why the fuck not? he asked. It all goes back into nature anyway, doesn’t it?

   He still hadn’t put away his cock.

    ̶  I guess. But they have those portable toilets, right there.

   He just smiled and kept swinging his limp meat around, holding it at the base now, with his index and middle fingers. I was trying not to stare but he was making it kind of difficult, waving it like a flag that way.

   ̶  Fucking chemicals in those shit holes make me want to hurl.

   I just chuckled. That I could understand. If I’m ever in a situation where there’s nothing else available to relieve myself… I just hold it in!

   ̶  Maybe you should put your cock away now that you’re done. Somebody might come.

   ̶  Somebody like you?  I was kind of thinking about jerking one out right about now.

   ̶ NOW? I said, my voice rising in disbelief. On the job?

   ̶  My shift’s over, dude, and this fresh air on my cock head… man…

   That made me look down again. His cock had started to grow, turning hard as my eyes widened.

   ̶  So you like what you see, huh?

   I couldn’t believe how cliché that sounded. Like a line from a cheesy porn flick. He reached inside his jeans through his open zipper and pulled out his massive balls, spreading his legs a bit more and letting his gonads sway in the wind.

   ̶  I got blue balls, dude, he said. Broke up with my guy last month and really can't find anyone to fuck for shit on that Grindr app. You into that?

   I couldn’t believe the conversation he was trying to have with me. Or that fact that he was so matter-of-factly telling me he was gay! My eyes kept going from his face, to his crotch, to the South Shore, to Nun’s Island, on the other side, thinking “How come nobody is coming?”

   ̶ I don’t know why, but traffic always dies down around this time… especially on weekends. Lucky for me you came along.

   He was actually jerking off in front of me and my cock was starting to stir in my Spandex bike shorts. I was making a conscious effort not to touch myself.

   ̶  You gettin’ hard, too, dude?

   Of course, I was. And it was starting to show. He used his left had to press his cock against the button of his jeans and started playing with his hairy balls making them dance with his fingers.

   – Man, I really need to get my rocks off.

   Before I knew what was happening, he swung a gate open on his side and reached over to the gate on my side. I hadn’t even noticed that there were actual doors to go from one side to the other. But in the seconds it took for him to do that, I realized it all made sense. But that only authorized personnel – with hardhats, reflective gear and hard cocks! – would be allowed to open them.

   As I was still straddling my bike, he grabbed the handle bars and pulled me across to his side, almost making me fall off my bike! I couldn’t believe what was happening.

   ̶  Hey! Whoa! Wait! was all that came out of my mouth.

   ̶ Can’t. Don’t want an audience, he said, jerking his head toward the South Shore.

   He was right. Three people on bikes were coming toward us at full speed. He pulled on my handle bars as I walked on my toes, still straddling my bike with my balls rubbing against the bar and my cock twitching in my Spandex pants.

   He took us to the other side of his company pickup truck and opened the driver-side door to use as a screen. That’s when he went straight for my package, grabbing my outlined cock and balls in my Spandex pants. I pretty much had to catch my breath because I wasn’t expecting him to go so fast and so hard. It actually hurt a little… before his kneading of my junk started feeling really good and I started grinding against his calloused construction-worker hand.

   ̶  Holy fuck, you really are hard! he said.

   He certainly wasn’t going to say that I was big, because – well, although I am tall and stalky – my cock is very average. But I certainly do compensate in hardness when I’m aroused and horny as hell!

   The more he kneaded my cock, the harder I felt I was becoming. He was still stroking himself with his other hand and I got even more turned on looking down at his cock head coming in and out of his foreskin like it was playing hide and seek or like it was the bird in a cuckoo clock, glistening with pre-cum and maybe a little urine from earlier.

   Suddenly, without any warning, he squatted and pulled my biking pants around my knees and gasped:

   ̶  Oh, dude…

   Some guys do have that reaction when they see that I wear a jock. I don’t wear one all the time, but I do have a few for exercising because they make me feel like an athlete. I know. It’s silly.

   But it clearly turned him on as he forcefully turned me around and shoved me against the truck door, my face hitting the window frame as he pushed between my shoulder blades to get better access to my ass.

   I then felt his hands grabbing at my ass cheeks like they were hunks of dough that needed kneading. He was so rough, grabbing and pinching, that he was actually pulling hairs on my butt cheeks. It almost felt what I would guess a wax stripping would feel like!

   ̶  Man! You’ve got an ass.

   I had to contain myself not to laugh. I knew what he meant but it still made me laugh. “Yeah, me and pretty much everybody, dude!” But I refrained from commenting.

   Then, the first thing I knew, his face was buried between my ass cheeks and I could feel his tongue poking around in there. Even though I’m not really into anal sex, I’ve been exploring with it more lately so I thought, “Okay… getting rimmed by a stranger. How is that going to feel?” And I have to admit, I had to really concentrate to stay in the moment because I kept pulling myself out and trying to analyze how it felt because I knew I’d be writing about it later. That’s when I started scolding myself. “Idiot! Stop doing that! Just enjoy it!”

   Unfortunately, I’d have a hard time describing how it felt because the only thing I really remember is it tickled a bit and felt very wet. I could feel a certain vibration when he moaned next to my asshole but beyond that… until I felt a wet finger inside me. Deep. Which to my surprise, did not hurt because it was long and its girth was non-threatening. When he made it wiggle inside, I felt a direct jolt of electricity to my cock and balls, something I’d never felt with such intensity.

   ̶  Your ass is so tight.

   I wished he hadn’t said that because it sounded so cliché and took me out of the moment so I was happy he didn’t see me roll my eyes in dismay!

   Then, he made me forget his faux pas by sucking my balls into his mouth as he kept moving his finger inside me. My legs almost buckled, but my cock bobbed up and down. I couldn’t believe how incredible this all felt. Not to mention that it was happening on a BRIDGE in the middle of the St. Lawrence River with the warm air blowing on us.

   He kept sucking my balls into his mouth like a vacuum cleaner and then, I felt a second finger in my ass. He was opening me up! And normally, I would have put a stop to this nonsense. But my cock was dripping precum and I just wanted him to fuck me.

   “What?  You want to get fucked in the ass? You?  What the hell?” my rational self started saying in my head.

   Then, an even crazier thought… but still, you’ll recognize my rational self: “That fucker better have a condom somewhere in those jeans.”

   Damn, I really wanted to feel his cock inside me. What was that about?

   I certainly wasn’t going to sound like a teenage girl from a Freeform drama asking if he had protection but man was I feeling him. That’s when I started thinking that this was not going down as I’d expected. I was thinking he might want me to suck his cock and that would be that but… we were about to fuck while not so far  – a little bit over our heads – hundreds of cars, trucks and buses would cross the Champlain Bridge in both directions… hopefully not looking over at us!

   He did whip out a condom and showed it to me, over my shoulder once he’d stood up.

   He went back to fingering me as he one-handedly sheathed his hard pole and slowly started penetrating my ass hole. He was so careful and so respectful, it was almost surreal. Until… I don’t know what came over me… I just pushed back and felt him deep inside me, his pubes rubbing against my hairy ass.

   That’s when I turned into some kind of creature I didn’t know I had in me.

    ̶  Mmmmm… Yes! Fuck me!

   “What? Who are you and what have you done with Tristan?”

   He did not take my order lightly. He started plowing my anal cavity with that now massive cock of his as I braced myself against the door of the truck, taking him for all he was worth, letting him fuck me like a bitch. Again, I was suddenly pulled out of the moment, chuckling at how I would be writing about this later!

   ̶  What? he asked, panting.

   ̶  Nothing. Do it! Fuck me. Make me cum!

   I could actually feel an orgasm coming on even though I wasn’t touching my cock. That, too, was something new for me.

   As his enthusiasm and passion ramped up, so did mine. I felt my balls tingle – maybe from the fresh air but also from the butt pounding – and as I started to moan, feeling the cum racing from my balls to my tube, he started groaning and almost roaring when he finally grabbed my hips so hard, I thought his dirty nails would leave marks on my skin through my Lycra bike shirt.

   When he exploded inside me, he gave four more thrusts before his hands made their way to my neck. I thought he’d strangle me right then and there but, instead, he pulled me toward him and started lightly biting my neck, sending tingles through my whole body.

   ̶ Man, he whispered, blowing into my ear.

   I looked down and saw that I had shot three streams of cum that were dripping down the bottom of the inside of the truck door.

   ̶  Shit…

   ̶  What’s wrong? he asked.

   ̶  I sort of… well… look.

   He laughed.

   ̶  Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up.

   ̶  Cool.

   ̶  Thanks, he said.

   I thought that was kind of weird, but endearing, too.

   ̶  Thanks for coming prepared, I said, referring to the condom and giving him a wink.

   He chuckled as he took the condom off and disposed of it… in the garbage bag he had in the truck.

   I almost laughed thinking, “At least he didn’t throw it in the drink!”

   ̶  That was amazing.

   ̶  And unexpected, I added.

   There was a weird silence for a moment.

   ̶ What? he asked, with anticipation.

   ̶  Do you REALLY think construction on the new bridge will be ready by year’s end?

   He burst out laughing, really not expecting that question, although it’s on EVERYBODY’s mind – and lips! – in Montreal, even more than sex.

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