I finally got a job. It's not exactly what I was looking for, but it's hard to find work driving truck when you went to jail for drinking on the job and causing a fatal accident.

I'm operating machinery again, but not on the road, and you could hardly call it heavy-duty equipment. I'm operating a walk-along electric pallet mover in book warehouse, trudging up and down row after row of metal-framed storage racks with thousands of pallets of cartons.

The place bills itself as Publishers' Warehouse. No, it's not Publisher's Clearing House, where you can win all sorts of big prizes if you just subscribe to 5 of the magazines it touts! This place is a distribution agent for several large Canadian publishing companies. They subcontract the distribution of their books to this company, which is responsible for getting them to book-selling chains and independent bookstores.

I was sort of lucky to get the job, because no-one else was hiring me, but this place is owned by a religious fundamentalist, who says everyone deserves forgiveness and a second chance. Seems Jesus is on my side!

But I start at the bottom. I walk my pallet mover round the huge warehouse, putting together orders mostly for the independents. A box of one title here, half a box of another title there, six copies of a tile from yet another place. It's slow, tedious work, hard on the feet on those concrete floors, and hard on the back when you are lifting box after box of books.

The warehouse is huge, as I said. They actually have a railway platform inside it. Trains shunt up to six box cars right into the warehouse for loading and unloading. Books come from publishing houses in Vancouver, Edmonton, Toronto, Montreal, Halifax, and right here in Winnipeg itself, and go out by rail or road to stores all over North America.

I'm still in the training stage. One of the older guys at the job is giving me some training on the right way, and the easy way, to do things. Bert's his name. He has a similar job, but on one of the rider pallet movers. I guess when I prove myself I'll get promoted to one of them, and later - whoopee doo! - to a propane gas-driven hi-jack mobile fork lift. Anything would beat plodding round leading a slow pallet mover, which gets slower as the day wears on and its batteries drain.

Today Bert's pretty much leaving me to find my way round. Every now and then he comes gliding by on his rider to check if I'm making out OK. I'm not having any major problems. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to do this job - just find the books on the request column of the packing slip , add them to the pallet, and mark them off on the packing slip, or if we don't have the requested books, mark them as B/O (back order), O/S (out of stock), or O/P (out of print - no longer available).

Just as I finish putting up an order and dropping it in the proper place in the loading area, ready for pick-up, along comes Bert on his rider.

I take a breather to chat with him. It's almost our lunch break anyway. We've got the 12 to 12:45 lunch. The other half of the crew takes their break at 12:45. There's almost 50 men on the crew and at least half of us are on the job at any time.

But wouldn't you know it? Just at that time, the foreman comes striding along, full of his own authority.

"What's up, bookworms?" he demands of both me and Bert. 'Bookworms' is what management guys call us lowly floor workers. Bert tells him it's only a couple of minutes to twelve, so there's not much point in starting new loads just now.

"Well, OK," the foreman, whose name is Art, says to both of us, but to me he adds, "You better not be slacking off already," he threatens. "You've only been on the job a few days. You ain't got no union to back you up yet." He was implying, of course, that he could lay me off with no recourse at all. There was a three month probation period for the warehouseman's union.

I had not liked Art from the start. He had made no bones about letting me know that he didn't agree with management's policy of giving jobs to ex-cons. "Haven't had a good one yet! All useless crims!" he had said to me, after reading my employment file the first day I reported to him.

He looked me up and down. I'm sure his eyes lingered for a while on my crotch. I have to admit, I do have a nice basket.

He said to Bert, "You up for a nooner today?"

Bert smiled, "I'm always ready for a nooner."

"OK," grinned Art. "The Dead Shed, right after the whistle." He looked me over once more. "Bring the jailbird if he's game." Then Art strode off self-importantly down the warehouse. The fact that guys like me were ex-cons was supposed to be private, and not spread all over, but Art didn't agree with that. "The other guys deserve to know they are working with crooks," he has been known to say. Such an asshole!

"What's the Dead Shed?" I asked Bert. "What's a nooner?"

"A nooner is a nooner, same as always," said Bert. "Sex. Only here, it's all man sex. Mutual jack-off, some cock-sucking, the occasional butt fuck." I had done all of these things during my eighteen months in prison, so what Bert told me didn't surprise, shock, or bother me. In fact, man sex is my thing these days.

"And the Dead Shed?" I asked.

"That's what we call the smaller annex building, right over there through those sliding doors," he gestured toward a couple of large, closed sliding doors, with another regular door cut into one of them. It, too was closed. "It's where we keep books that there is no longer any call for, oddments, and the end runs of books long out of print. Occasionally we get a call for one of those titles, so we keep them on hand for years. No-one ever goes in there, so sometimes some of us guys get together in there for a little friendly play."

"And tight-assed Art goes along with it?" I marvelled.

"Yeah," Bert told me. "He's a married guy and all, but he's one of the main instigators. He's really into sucking cock and getting his cock sucked. Not much into anal, though. Says he's never been fucked and never will be. You game to try a nooner?"

"Sure," I agreed. "I like a bit of cock now and then."

Just then the noon bell sounded throughout the warehouse, like an old-time alarm clock with its hammer and bell, or the fire alarm in most buildings, except it was intermittent, in three two-second bursts. All over the warehouse, half the men stopped whatever they were doing and headed for the lunch room at the far end of the building.

Not Bert, though. "You coming?" he said to me.

Fuck lunch! "You bet," I agreed, and followed him toward the doors to the Dead Shed.

Bert led the way through the inset door and into this mostly unused part of the warehouse. It was actually an ell, tacked onto the side of the main building. I followed Bert toward the back, though the storage racks piled high with cartons of books, to a nook, out of eye-line of the doors.

Art was already there waiting for us, along with another guy I recognized as Ray, who drove an electric fork for loading and unloading the box cars.

"See you brought the ex-con with you," Art commented. He was seated on an old office chair, already mostly naked, in just his underpants, his dick hanging out of the leg hole. For all that I thought he was an asshole, he did have an impressive cock. It was long and veiny, and he had pulled back his foreskin to expose his pink knob. I had an instant desire to suck it!

I didn't know how soon I was to get my wish.

"Get you gear off, guys," Art ordered. "Let's get down to business!"

All three of us did as Art commanded, stripping to nothing, except for Ray, who kept his tighty-whiteys on.

"Let's see what you learned in prison, Stu," Art said to me. "Let's see you get it on with your buddy Bert ."

In there amongst all those boxes of books, I looked at Bert, he looked and me, and we both shrugged.

"What the fuck!" I said and with both Art and Ray looking on, we went into a passionate open-mouthed kiss, our now-hard cocks pressed against each other.

Bert's' cock responded to the pressure, and I could feel him growing harder and longer pressed against me. It had been ages since I had sucked a dick, and I now wanted Bert's as much as I had wanted Art's only moments before.

When Art ordered, "Suck his cock!" I was only too eager to acquiesce. I dropped to my knees immediately, and grasping Bert's hard dick, kissed the knob before I opened my mouth to take in the knob. My own dick was standing erect ready for action.

Ray and Art were by now both jerking their own meats, watching us. Art had shed his undies by now, and his long, uncut dick hung invitingly. I appraised it out of the corner of my eye while I continued to give oral attention to Bert's fine prick.

I'm sure Art must have had a feeling of great power watching me respond to his every whim. It could only have increased when he said to me, "My turn now. Come suck on this one."

I immediately left off sucking Bert's dick and headed on my knees for Art. In a flash I had his knob in my mouth and was sucking and licking away.

"Mmmm, they taught you well in prison, didn't they? I hear they love to break in virgin asses in the big house," gloated Art, standing above me.

I felt like just biting the end of this supercilious cunt's dick off right then and there. I satisfied myself with leaving off gnawing at his cock for long enough to murmur,

"You need your virgin ass broken in, and I'm the man to do it!"

"You wish!" he sneered. I didn't care. I was too busy gobbling on his cock and enjoying every inch of it.

Meanwhile Bert and Ray were doing their thing. Ray was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the shelving and boxes of books, while Bert was busy face-fucking him. From what I could see, Bert was driving that monster all the way down Ray's throat, and Ray wasn't gagging one bit.

Art had been leaning back against the wall and boxes, enjoying being gobbled off, but I guess he decided he needed some lunch, too. He grabbed me by the ears and roughly pulled my face off his dick.

"I want to taste some of yours," he demanded. I continued to play the docile little prick, and stood, while he slid down to his knees and grasped my cock. He pulled my foreskin back and forth a few times, admiring my impressive chunk of meat. A droplet of pre-cum had formed on the lips of my cockhead. Art stuck out his tongue to lick up the little globe of juice and savour it.

I rammed my dick all the way into his mouth, roughly. He didn't complain. A cunt like Art needs a good dick in him!

Of course, mostly because we we only on a 45 minute break, things moved along pretty fast. I think we all had in the back of our minds to get our rocks off, get out of here, and gobble down a sandwich and a coffee before the 12:45 bell sounded back to work for us and lunch for the other half of the crew.

But right now, Art was gobbling me down. Alongside us, Ray was now on his back on the floor and Bert was sucking on Ray's cock in a switcheroo. Ray's tighty-whiteys were obstructing Bert from getting at his nuts, so he slid them down and off.

! began fucking Art's face in earnest, and he held his jaws open to take it in. He couldn't take his eyes off my cock as I pumped it in to him, like a piston. Eventually he had had enough of that. He withdrew his face from my cock. He looked up at me.

"Fuck my ass!" Art cried.

"But you said you were a virgin!" I reminded him.

"I am," he cried. "But I want to try it. Please?"

What happened to the asshole who was demanding things of me only minutes before? Now he was begging for my dick in his ass.

Both Bert and Ray were amazed at this turn of events. Bert told him,

"Stu's got a pretty big cock. It's gonna hurt you."

"I don't care," said Art. "You've had mine inside you plenty of times. If you can take a dick in you, so can I. You coach me," he suggested.

"Well, OK," replied Bert, hesitantly. ""Spit on your hand a few times and rub it in your ass crack."

Art did as he was told. Meanwhile, I was lubing up my dick with spit.

"Bend over and lean on the racks," Bert told Art. Art did as he was instructed, baring his ass for me. I spat on my hands once more and smeared my spit on my dick and Art's winking hole. Bert held Art's ass cheeks open while I lined up my cock with his hole. I touched the tip of my cock to it and it tightened up like a clam in the sand.

"Relax," Bert instructed him. "Make like you are going to fart, and press back onto Stu's cock." Art did as he was told. His hole pressed against my knob, harder and harder. I could feel it slowly opening to receive me. I pushed forward gently.

"Ow, that hurts," Art complained. "Take it out! Take it out!"

But I didn't. I kept up the steady pressure, and his asshole slowly expanded.

"You've gone this far now," Bert told him. "Go all the way. Keep pushing back."

Art followed orders, and suddenly, my knob was inside him, clutched tight by his sphincter muscles. He gave a great gasp.

"Does it hurt?" I asked him.

"Yes," Art admitted, "but it's getting better. Just hold still a moment while I get used to it."

Both bert and Ray were fascinated by this deflowering of their asshole boss. It was turning them both on even more than they had been.

Suddenly, Art pushed back hard against my dick. The rest of me slid into him in one great rush. I was in to him up to my balls.

"Oh, wow!" Art cried in amazement. "That hurts, but hurts so good! Fuck me slowly."

Bert gave me a big grin, and leaned forward for another kiss. I gladly responded and reached up to meet his mouth with mine.

Behind me, Ray was prodding at my hole with his stiff dick, looking for entry. I didn't object. I like a dick in me. I really like being the middle layer of a sandwich!

I relaxed to let Ray enter me. I felt his tool forcing open my sphincter, pushing into me. The head went in easily, but Ray was one of those guys who have a relatively small knob and a thick, thick shaft. Once his dickhead was in, my ass had to relax even more to accommodate the girth of his column.

Finally, Ray slid fully into me, and I pushed forward hard into Art's butt, driving my dick further inside him. Art didn't complain at all. It crossed my mind that either Art was not a virgin, as he had claimed, or he had been practicing with some pretty big toys!

To keep Bert happy while I fucked Art and Ray fucked me, I gave him a nice hand-job. He seemed to enjoy that while we continued to swap spit.

"Hurry up, worms!" Art was ordering. "We haven't got all day here!"

He was right. The minutes were slipping by fast, and horny as I was my stomach was telling me it needed food. Ray began rooting me faster, and I responded by pounding Art faster too. I could feel Bert's dick starting to tense in my hand as he got ready to shoot. My cock, too, was a exploding point. I felt the first quiver of Ray's dick inside me as he got ready to blow. It was a trigger for my own, and in an instant I was spurting my cream deep into Art's ass.

Ray also blew his load, and I knew he was so far up my ass that it would be some time before that load would find its way down and out. I had plenty of time to get to a can and squeeze it out, or I could probably carry it round inside me for a long time.

When Ray withdrew his dick from my ass, I pulled out of Art, also. Bert's load had splashed down my leg, and I wiped the worst of it off with a scrap of a packing slip I found on the floor.

All four of us dressed quickly, and now Art was completely in charge again.

"You! Jaibird!" he said to me. "Don't think I won't be watching you just as hard as before, but I'll tell you this. You can count your job as secure. I want more of what you have to offer. Be ready for nooners when I say."

"Yes, boss," I agreed sarcastically. For all that he had a nice tight ass that wanted more of my cock, he was still an asshole. But at least my dick had bought me a little security.

"OK, bookworms, let's get things rolling again!" Art commanded as he led us through the inset door into the main warehouse, and strutted off ahead of us.

Bert nudged me and pointed toward the departing Art. There was a great wet spot on the seat of Art's jeans where my cum had dribbled from his ass and soaked through the cloth. He wouldn't even realize it until he went to sit down somewhere. He would walk around the warehouse with his ass advertising to all that it had been fucked today!

Bert, Ray and I wandered off to the lunch room to grab a bite and a drink before the alarm went to send us back to work.

I think I might get to like it here after all. Bert tells me some of the other bookworms also join in the nooners from time to time. I look forward to getting to know them - sexually.

Who would ever have thought I'd ever become a bookworm - and like it!

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