This isn't mine, but I hope it's no problem if I share it. Years ago I had a mail correspondence with a guy who went by the name Brig Rat. Maybe some of you remember him too. This is a story he sent to me, which I haven't seen anywhere else online. I recently learned Brig Rat passed away about three years ago, so I wanted to share this in his honor.
CONSTRUCTION WORKER
by Brig Rat
I am a burly young construction worker, sweaty and dirty after a hot day in the broiling sun. One of the tank tops I always wear a size or two too small to show off my muscles was soaked with sweat and filthy with the dust and dirt of the job, as were my skin-tight, faded Levi's. I had stopped for a couple of beers with a buddy, then started to walk home, when a beat-up old pickup truck stopped and the driver offered me a lift. I climbed into the cab and looked at him, a little older, a little bigger and maybe a little more muscular than me, but we might be pretty closely matched if it came to a fight. His scuffed boots, worn jeans and black T-shirt gave me a hint that he might not be unlike me in other ways as well. I looked forward and my eye caught a pair of handcuffs dangling from the rear view mirror. I couldn't resist taking them down and playing with them, running the arms through the ratchets to hear them click.
"You like them?" he asked.
"Well, I wore them some when I was in jail. They don't bother me. Why, think you can put 'em on me?
"Mebbe so. Want to try it? Maybe you could put 'em on me, but I don't think so."
My natural arrogance, along with the careless self-confidence brought on by the beer, made me agree. We drove along, chatting quietly while I tried to figure the odds. He knew the area and we followed a secondary road, then a little dirt road which finally ended in a small clearing deep in the woods. We got out and he tossed the cuffs onto the ground, then took up a wrestling stance. I matched him and we started. It took some time, as we each had the advantage at various times, but then I felt the cold steel around one of my wrists. I struggled harder but he was able to flip me over onto my flat stomach, then pull my arms together and click on the other cuff. It was over. I lay there, sweating and panting with the exertion as he knelt over me, sitting on my ass, holding me down.
"Looks like you lose, buddy boy," he taunted.
"Yeah, looks that way. What are you gonna do to me now?"
"Well, I got some ideas. I don't think you're gonna like it much, but you said you spent some time in jail, so I guess you know how to take it."
He rolled me over and opened my jeans, then pulled them down around my ankles, very effectively hobbling me since there was no way I could get them off over my work boots. I lay helpless, naked from waist to ankles, broad chest heaving under my sweat-soaked, dirty tank top, my cock just beginning to swell and grow, as I thought of the situation I was in. Sure I'd taken a lot of shit in jail, and there had been nothing I could do about it just as there was nothing I could do about whatever he was going to do to me, except that in jail I had made sure to take it out with interest on some of the younger, weaker prisoners, and really made them suffer. Even as I thought about raping one cute, slender, young guy in particular, my cock swelled even more and started throbbing gently.
"Yeah, looks like you can take it, and maybe even enjoy some of it too," he commented. "First you're gonna get fucked."
He lifted my legs and placed them over his powerful, broad shoulders, and I couldn't move them away because they were still hobbled by my pants. I squeezed them together, trying to crush his head, but he just laughed it off and inserted his cock into my ass, pushing in hard, breaking through my sphincter, then plunging in all the way with one long, quick thrust causing me a yell of pain. He fucked me quickly, looking into my eyes, at first holding my shoulders down, then switching his grip to my neck. I was hurting, of course, from the tight cuffs on my wrists and the rough, hard fucking, but now I was scared as well as his fingers met at the back of my neck and his thumbs pressed on my windpipe, squeezing it slowly closed. I gasped and struggled, fighting hard to breathe but seeing his face begin to waver and gradually the light went out of everything. My cock exploded in a surge of foamy cum which I could feel splattering on my chest. This is what it is like to die. He is killing me, and I did nothing to him, was my last conscious thought.
I came to, lying on the ground, even more dirty and sweaty than before, but at least I was alive, he had given me a reprieve. I hoped he would release me, but he had more in mind.
He sat beside me, chatting calmly as though nothing had happened, as though nothing more was going to happen, but after half an hour or so he got up and walked over to his truck, returning with a knife and a short piece of rope. I was scared he was going to slit my throat as he brought the knife near my neck, but he only used it to cut my tank top, then ripped away the remaining rags, so I was naked except for the jeans around my ankles and boots. He kicked me over so my face and cock were grinding into the dirt, then he straddled me, sitting on my ass. He took a turn of the rope around my neck, then started fucking me again. I was looser now, of course, so it didn't hurt as much as he rammed into me, but it took longer as it was his second time. He pulled on the rope, tightening it slowly, letting me know he was going to put me out at the same time he came. I could feel his increasing tempo and hear his labored breathing as the rope got tighter. I choked and gasped, struggling to breathe, and felt lightheaded from the lack of air and blood to the brain. Again I passed out just after my cock let go and I shot a load of cum into the dust below me.
Again I awoke, my face in the dust, slow and groggy with lack of air. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind, hoping to make some sense out of what was happening to me. He liked to strangle me, to make me pass out, but how much farther would he go? Would he do it again? Would he hold it too long so I would never wake up?
Again he sat beside me, calmly talking as I lay there, dirty and sweating and scared, but I didn't want to let him know I was scared so I played the role, pretended nothing was wrong and talked about nothing in particular.
Finally he was ready to go again, and this time he brought a longer piece of rope from his truck and tied it into a noose around my neck. He lifted me to my feet and dragged me, struggling uselessly, over to a tree with a limb a few feet above my head. He tossed the rope over the limb and pulled it taut, making me stand tall to keep my air passage open. He stood back to look at me and I must have been quite a sight, hard, muscular body covered with sweat and dirt, naked, cock again hard and sticking up and out, pants bunched around my ankles. He moved behind me and started fucking me, his hands roaming over my solid chest, then tweaking my nipples. I tried to stand straight but his thrusts were too much and the noose tightened around my neck, digging into my flesh, squeezing my windpipe, slowly choking me. Somehow I sensed that this time there would be no release, that he would leave me hanging there, feet just dragging on the ground, limp on the end of the rope. I felt that he was closer to coming one last time up my ass and my own cock responded once again, shooting up and out as again everything faded from view. I felt his final thrust and his arms holding tightly around my sweaty chest, then total oblivion and it was over.
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