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I was between jobs and recently divorced when Superstorm Sandy tore up the East Coast of the United States. Road crews were overwhelmed with storm damage, so I enlisted in a corps of travelling laborers for some quick money. I was assigned to the mundane but necessary task of holding a pole with a sign atop it. One side read stop, the other read slow. My task was to communicate with a coworker a half mile away by walkie-talkie and let one lane of traffic pass at a time.

The company was as good to us as they could be. They put us up in nearby hotels when possible, but one assignment proved far more adventurous. I had been assigned to a team that was installing a culvert under a washed out road in the hills of West Virginia.

My coworkers on the job weren’t just a bunch of laboring grunts like me. The group consisted of twenty-some men and women including engineers, company representatives, and surveyors. But as varied as we were, there were no hotels or even houses for miles around. A mile up the road, we were set up with two huge bunkhouse-style tents—one for the men, the other for the women. Two shower tents were erected on either side of a tank truck with a row of portable toilets behind them.

I had no problem with the primitive accommodations, but the thought of sleeping on a cot with a dozen snoring guys around me was appalling. As I was coming to grips with the idea, I heard a woman’s voice call out, “Hey, there are single tents in the supply truck!”

Bolting over to the truck, I scoffed up the last one just before a pretty young woman of Pacific Island descent. “It’s big enough to bunk together,” I offered. “I’ll behave.”

She scrunched her cheek and turned away. Chivalry almost got the better of me as she walked off, but I once again pictured myself wide-awake between two snoring Paul Bunyan types. Sticking the tent under my arm, I walked about a hundred feet from the common area and found a spot where I had enough privacy to step out and pee between the bushes in the middle of the night.

Arriving at camp after the first day of work, I was surprised to find several more utility trucks and cars parked on the grass. As it turned out, another team had stopped to join us. After a long day of work, they had decided not to drive the extra sixty miles to their Bayan Escort Gaziantep own camp. I was all the more happy to have my own tent. Moreover, I was excited to find the number of women had doubled.

Camaraderie formed quickly at the after-hour campfire. Men and women joked and flirted, mostly in innocent quips. I tried my luck with a few of the girls who weren’t wearing wedding rings, but to no avail. Near twelve on the moonless night, most members of the team had retired to their bunks. As the last of the women strutted off into the dark, I poured water on the flames and tamped the coals.

Shining my small flashlight on the ground, I walked to my tent and kicked off my boots outside, then unzipped the screen and crawled in, laying my flashlight on the sleeping bag. A dainty hand covered it and clicked it off, leaving me in complete darkness. “Hush,” whispered a soft voice. “It’s anonymous or it doesn’t happen.”

“Just tell me you’re one of the girls,” I whispered, sitting straight. The scratch of fingernails on my cheek answered silently, sending a shiver down my spine. I saw nothing at all in the pitch black of the tent—not even a shadow to offer a clue as to the intruder’s identity. When a small palm pushed my chest, I leaned back on my elbows and took a deep breath.

Perhaps the gravity of the event hadn’t fully hit me until a gentle tug unbuckled my belt. As blood rushed to my crowded crotch, I reached down to adjust myself, but a soft palm grabbed my wrist. “You just relax,” her soft voice whispered as my zipper slowly dropped.

I couldn’t wait. Planting my feet, I lifted my buttocks and tugged my pants and boxers off. The skin of my cock stretched tight as it engorged to capacity, standing straight in the cool night air. I leaned back again, waiting for the sensation of graceful fingers on my thumping shaft.

A gasp of anticipation escaped me as a single fingernail scratched slowly down my length and over my sac. Fingertips lifted my nuts as a thumb gently rubbed my right jewel. Peering into the darkness, I searched for an outline or any clue to her identity as a small, warm hand took hold of my throbbing meat and whiffs of breath tickled the fuzz on my pelvis. I reached out to feel the trim of her hair, but the sleeping bag ruffled as her small frame rolled to the side.

“Last chance,” I heard from the darkness.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I promise.”

The back of a tiny hand pressed against my lips, pressing the graze of a ring with a stone against them. “Just so you know,” her hush voice tendered.

A soft cheek brushed against my aching pole as a flickering tongue dashed between my balls. My rock-hard staff jumped as soft lips wrapped my right nut and a fingernail scratched the other. I straightened my legs as the flickering moved up my hilt and played on my underside at mid-length. In the cool of the night air, the warmth of soft lips felt all the more tantalizing as they moved up to my aching brim.

Suddenly, they broke contact, leaving my bumping girth alone in the dark chill. My breath became shallow and rapid as again the small hand raised my pulsing meat to perfect plumb. My balls squeezed in my sac as it grew full and lifted off my thighs.

In a glorious instant, the upper half of my dry shaft was wrapped in the moist warmth of oral ecstasy, complimented by a lolling tongue and sucking cheeks. The ends of her hair tickled my loins as soft but squeezing lips wrapped my meat, sliding blissfully over the vein-sculpted length of my rigid turret. Playful fingers teased my tingling jewels as they went to work seasoning my load with sperm. I remember hoping she would consume my seedy brew, but I didn’t dare ask.

My mind tried to calculate her proportions, but I barely knew the members of my own team, much less the visitors. Aside from a few glances, I hadn’t hit on any of the married ones. I had no idea who my carnal cohort could be, but she knew what she was doing. I had to wonder if her husband was privy to such delight or if her talents were reserved for strangers.

She’s married, I thought to myself. Her husband’s probably home worrying about her and she’s in my tent sucking me off. I realized at that moment that not seeing her added an eminence of mystery to the iniquitous deed. I would be left forever wondering whose wife broke her vows to fulfill some carnal compulsion. However hypocritical it seemed, her secrecy earned my admiration.

So did her oral talent. She knew where to flick and when to stop and bob. Her palm-strokes were tactical, paced and deliberate—firm but not overdone. She hummed in soft homage to my throbbing girth as it pulsed in her mouth.

Pangs of orgasmic voltage began tingling though my sac, rippling into my hilt and thumping warning jolts between her lips. Aware that the quiet of the night would carry any noise I made, I puffed, warning of my imminent eruption. She paid no heed, dunking over half my length and sucking. “I’m gonna come,” I whispered in a desperate hush, hoping she wouldn’t pull away and stroke me over the finish line.

My throbbing shaft sensed the cool of the air as she stopped and purred, “I wish you would. I need some sleep.” With that said, she plunged over my tingling cock-head, sucking with delightful fervor and twiddling her tongue beneath my engulfed bulb.

Damn, I thought. She’s gonna go to sleep with my seed coursing through her. I pulled the blanket over my open mouth, inhaling through my nose and holding my breath. Pangs of elation overtook me as my cock pulsed dry-fires to the rhythm of her twiddling tongue. Reality gave way to nirvana as my balls joined in and a mighty joggle pumped a spurt between her lips.

She hummed onto my shaft as a bevy of blissful bursts followed, spraying jet after jet into the ever-moving tissues of her mouth. I clenched the blanket in my teeth as she gulped—her soft lips never lessening their tight wrap around my shaft. My balls dropped and rested on my inner thighs as my sac emptied, but her delicate stroke kept my spasms strong, eking out a few extra dribbles from my shriveled sac until the bumps faded to fruitless twitches.

Wishful pulses oozed drips of semen onto my thigh as her tongue offered a parting tease to the base of my knob. I felt the sleeping bag jostle as she crawled up to my ear. “Don’t try to follow,” she warned in a soft whisper that reeked of sperm.

As her petite shadow crawled out of the tent, I lay back, no longer wanting to know who she was. In the next few days we would finish our work and go back to our lives. She would always know who I was—a grunt worker she brought to heaven in a dark tent. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t remember me. Perhaps she did such things so often I’d fade into a faceless crowd—another needy cock sucked to fruition as a seedy bedtime treat. Whatever the case, I knew one thing for certain—every bee jay I received from then on would be compared to the one levied on me by someone’s wife I never even got a look at.

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