David's first job when he moved north to Auckland was at a recycling plant. Twenty-two years old and not long out of university it was the best job he could find. He started in the warehouse where it was dirty, repetitive work, sorting recycling deliveries every day. Soon after he started he became friendly with Thompson Haywood -- an older man in his late sixties, short in stature, mostly gruff until you got to know him better, with silver hair and an equally silver mustache.
David had been only been working there for a couple of months but every morning he looked forward to morning coffee with Thompson.
"Late night, Thompson?" David said, one morning.
David was almost six foot tall, had curly brown hair and an athletic gym-defined body.
"No. Do I look like I might've been out late?," replied Thompson, stirring his coffee. "First delivery should be here within the next fifteen minutes, Davey! I don't understand why the deliveries keep coming right up against the edge of the roller door. Someone should talk to Roy -- but it won't be me. Another day at the coalface."
When David had first arrived it was Thompson who had taken him aside and shown him how everything worked -- who to avoid, who to watch. David had remained grateful ever since.
"Right then, let's get on with it."
They both wore overalls but it didn't matter because they would still be filthy by the end of the day. Most of the workers on the floor showered prior to leaving. The shower block was located in the locker room at the end of the warehouse. Just inside the locker room there was a large desk with an old computer at one end, followed by the lockers, and then the showers at the other end.
When David entered the locker room later that day there were thick clouds of steam caused by the many hot showers already taken. Despite this he could make out Thompson at the other end of the long bench which ran the length of the room. The showers were bunched together in the open at the far end and columns of buckled steel lockers lined either side of the room. It was otherwise deserted.
"Still here I see," David said.
"Just us now -- everyone else has gone home."
David sat on the bench not far from Thompson who was in the nude, sitting on a towel.
"Nothing like a nice hot shower," said Thompson.
David was shy and it was only recently that he had worked up the courage to shower at the same time as his co-workers.
Thompson was about five foot eight. He had thick gray chest hair. In fact, black and gray hair coated most of his body. His cut cock lay on the bench with two good size balls on either side. His cock was about 4.5 inches long with a nicely shaped circumcised helmet.
David took his towel from the locker and tossed it onto the bench. Thompson began complaining about the other workers as David undressed. The fluorescent lights which lit the center of the long room flickered, bathing the room in soft off-white.
"I'd wish they'd fix the lights down here."
"Yes," said Thompson, studying his toenails.
"Pretty toes," said David.
"Ha, very funny," said Thompson.
He stood up and tried to flick his towel at David, who made an easy side step and skipped down to the showers. In the foggy mist he could make out Thompson coming after him.
"You're fast, I'll give you that," Thompson said, as he came toward David, his cock slapping from side to side as he walked. He absently scratched his balls. "Warm isn't it?"
David hung up his towel and was about to turn on the shower when Thompson said, "Help me with something a minute, will you? Roy wants those boxes of oil organized in the annex -- I forgot about it till now. Won't take a moment."
Thompson hung up his towel and then walked over to the annex, a small storage room off the shower block. To be nude with Thompson away from the showers suddenly felt especially erotic, and David's cock thickened. Inside the room were newly delivered boxes of oil, as well as old containers which had leaked onto the floor. The oil was used to run the recycling machines.
As they moved the boxes their bodies were in close proximity to each other. At one point their bodies touched. They managed to get streaks of oil on themselves. They grew sweaty. The light was dim, and David let himself relax. He watched Thompson's naked body. He could make out his cock and balls swinging between his legs as he moved.
David had a slim athletic body. His muscles were defined from working out at the gym. He was naturally smooth, though he did shave his balls and around his cock. David was uncut and his cock was about four inches flaccid.
"You've got oil on you," Thompson said.
"Where?"
"There," Thompson said, swiping his warm hand over David's lower back. "And there. And there." He touched him again on his back, and then gently patted his butt.
David's cock twitched at the touch. "You've got some there and there too," he said, patting Thompson on the back in two places, and then on the buttocks.
Their breathing grew heavy for a moment. They were slick with sweat. They moved in the shadows, the light intermittent from the basement-like window above them. David stood and lifted a box up while Thompson stood close to steady it, their bodies almost touching again. David couldn't help getting hard. He enjoyed the feeling, partially shielded by his position and the shadow. David's cock was around 6.5 inches when fully hard. Like it was now.
"Ah -- oil," Thompson whispered hoarsely. "All over that box..."
"Really?"
"Yup."
The box brushed against David and he turned. David wasn't sure what Thompson could see.
"You've got some on your legs, there and on your back and butt," Thompson said. He then leaned in and slowly wiped his hands, both of them, down David's nude back, stopping at his buttocks. "Yip, feels like oil."
They put the boxes back and returned into the light of the shower block. David's cock had subsided somewhat, jutting out just below horizontal. Thompson's cock seemed to hang larger but David couldn't be sure and he didn't want to stare.
Thompson made straight for the showers and was soon singing from within the fog. Thompson's baritone voice boomed out in the gloomy light. David stood under the shower next to Thompson.
Thompson began working the soap into a lather on his chest, sending soap suds cascading over his body.
"Pass the soap please," David said.
Thompson handed it to him.
"Heard from your mother?" Thompson asked, as he squinted from underneath the soap which was leaking like milk across his face.
"Not for a while," David replied, now made more aware that he hadn't actually spoken to her in weeks.
"Well..." started Thompson, who had turned his body to face him. He began lathering his cock and balls before bending down to wash his legs. He stood up and the shower spray hosed him clean. "I suggest, you call her -- all alone down there."
Thompson's hands were on his hips and even naked he was like an imposing headmaster delivering a lecture.
"I will. I know you believe in happy endings but we can't all have the house and the thirty-year marriage," David said.
