Ron’s Rough Renovation

The night I met Ron at O’Malley’s Pub, I was drowning my sorrows in cheap whiskey after another failed date. My ex-wife had left me three years ago, and since then, I’d been striking out with women more consistently than the Cubs in September. 
I’m a decent-looking guy — thick build, Italian features — but I’ve always been self-conscious about what I’m packing below the belt. Less than an inch and a half when soft, barely three inches hard. Not exactly impressive.
Ron was sitting two stools down, nursing a beer and watching the baseball game. He was built like a Roman statue — broad shoulders, thick arms, probably 6'2" and 220 pounds of solid muscle. He caught me looking and gave me a nod.
“Tough day?” he asked, his voice deep and rumbling.
“Tough life,” I muttered, gesturing for another whiskey.
He chuckled and moved to the stool next to me. “Ron,” he said, extending his hand.
“Mike,” I replied, shaking it. His grip was like iron.
“What brings you to this fine establishment on a Tuesday night?”
“Just the usual,” I said. “Woman trouble.”
Ron nodded knowingly. “I hear that. Been divorced myself for five years. Sometimes I think it’s easier just to work and keep to myself.”
We ended up talking for hours — about construction, about ex-wives, about life. I mentioned I was a Construction Coordinator, and his eyes lit up. “No shit? I’m a Project Manager. We should work together sometime.” A month later, the universe obliged. We both got assigned to the new college gymnasium project. From day one, we clicked. I handled the details — scheduling trades, deliveries, permits, inspections — while Ron managed the big picture — budgets, timelines, contractors. We were the perfect team.
The locker room situation was unexpected. They’d finished the men’s facilities early in the project, which meant we could shower after work instead of going home covered in dirt and sweat. The only problem? Old-school gang showers, no stalls. Just a big open room with a dozen showerheads sticking out of the tiled walls, steam clouding the air as we washed off the grime of another day’s work.
The first time I showered with Ron, I tried to keep my back to him, but I could feel his eyes on me like a physical touch. I noticed him out of the corner of my eye, watching as I soaped up, his gaze lingering on my crotch. I felt my face heat up, and I turned away, my stomach twisting with a mix of embarrassment and something else I couldn’t quite name. The next day, same thing. His eyes followed my every move, making my skin tingle and my balls tighten.
On the third day, I’d had enough. “Why do you keep staring at me in the shower?” I asked, trying to sound casual rather than accusatory, but my voice came out higher than I intended.
Ron laughed, not maliciously but genuinely amused. “Dude, your pubic hair is so fucking bushy I can’t even see your dick.” He gestured toward my crotch with his soapy hand. “It’s like a goddamn forest down there. How does anyone find anything in that jungle?”
I felt my face flush. “Why do you want to see my dick?” I shot back, my voice cracking slightly.
He got a little embarrassed but pushed through, his eyes dropping to my crotch again. “It’s like, dude, maybe you could score some more chicks if they could at least see that tiny nub of yours.” He chuckled at my expense. “No wonder your ex left you if she couldn’t find anything in all that hair.”
That night, I went home and stripped naked in my bathroom, turning to examine myself in the full-length mirror. He was right — I was a mess of dark, coarse hair, completely obscuring my modest equipment. With shaking hands, I lathered up and shaved off every bit of hair around my cock and balls, being extra careful not to nick my sensitive skin. It looked a little bigger, sure, but still embarrassingly small. My balls, now smooth and hairless, seemed to hang lower, more exposed. I couldn’t stop touching myself, running my fingers over the newly smooth skin, my dick hardening despite my shame.
The next day in the shower, Ron whistled low. “Well hello there, smooth operator. I like it.” He turned to face me fully, and I swear to god, that thick tube of flesh between his legs twitched. It was just a slight jump, a bob in the steamy air, but it was undeniable. “Looks like you’ve got a decent-sized package under all that hair after all.”
The lie was so transparent it was almost insulting, but my traitorous dick still gave a little throb of appreciation. I’d never had a gay thought in my life, but when you’re standing there naked, comparing your newly-shaved, still-pathetically-small cock to a man who’s packing eight inches of thick, veined meat while it’s completely soft, you start to question everything. You start to wonder what your place is in the world, in the pecking order. I felt a primal urge to bow my head, to look away, to acknowledge his superiority without a word being said.
The day after that, as we were toweling off by the lockers, Ron reached into his locker and pulled out a small, flat package wrapped in plain brown paper. “A little gift,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he handed it to me.
My hands were still damp, making the paper feel slick. I unwrapped it carefully, my brow furrowed in confusion. Lying in my palm was a pair of thong underwear. It wasn’t quite lacy and feminine, but it was definitely not masculine either. The material was sheer, almost see-through, with just a small triangle of red lace at the front and a thin string disappearing into the back. It was the kind of thing a stripper would wear.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked, my voice cracking with disbelief.

Ron’s cheeks flushed, but he held my gaze. “I don’t know, man. I was at the store and I just… I don’t know, I just thought you’d look good in it.”
I’m a big guy — a thick build, a fat ass, hairy everywhere — but Ron seemed to find that appealing. His eyes dropped to my butt, still partially damp from the shower. “With that big thick rump of yours, I bet if it was shaved and smooth, you’d get all the action you could handle.” He reached out and gave my ass cheek a quick, firm squeeze. “Yeah, definitely all the action.”
That night, I went home with the thong burning a hole in my pocket. I stood in my bathroom, looking at my hairy ass in the mirror. Ron’s words echoed in my head. With shaking hands, I lathered up and shaved every bit of hair from my ass, from the small of my back down to my thighs. The feeling of being completely smooth from front to back was intoxicating. I ran my hands over my newly-bared skin, my dick hardening instantly. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and incredibly turned on.
The next day, I surprised Ron by wearing the thong. I waited until we were alone in the locker room, then dropped my towel. “Whoa,” he said, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of me in the sheer red thong, the string disappearing between my smooth, hairless ass cheeks. “That actually looks really hot.”
This time I definitely saw his dick twitch and begin to grow. It swelled slowly, thickening and lengthening until it was pointing straight at me, a full eight inches of hard, thick cock. “You shaved your ass too,” he noted, his voice thick with desire. “I gotta tell you, I’m normally not into the gay stuff, but that fat ass of yours looks just like an old girlfriend of mine. She had an ass like that — big and round and smooth. Fuck… remembering her makes me incredibly horny.”
I watched in amazement as his eight-inch cock grew even more, swelling to what had to be twelve inches of thick, veined meat. The head was a deep purple, already glistening with a drop of precum. “Buddy,” he said, his voice thick with desire, “have you ever sucked a dick in your life?”

When I admitted that I had not, he didn’t ask — he just stared me down. His eyes burned into mine, a clear command that I wasn’t even considering disobeying. I felt my knees go weak as I sank to the floor, my eyes level with his massive cock. It was beautiful — thick and veined, with a heavy pair of balls hanging beneath it. I took a deep breath and leaned forward, taking the head of his cock into my mouth.
I listened to him moan as I instinctively reached for his balls, rolling them in my hand. They were heavy and warm, and the feeling of them in my hand made my own dick twitch in response. Ron’s knees buckled slightly, and he let out a low groan. “Fuck yeah,” he muttered, his hands coming to rest on the back of my head. “Just like that.”
“Bend over the bench,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I want to see that ass.”
I hesitated for a split second, my heart pounding against my ribs. This was it. The point of no return.
“Come on,” he urged, his tone softening slightly. “I told you it reminds me of my ex-girlfriend. Don’t make me beg.”
I complied, bending over the cool wooden locker room bench, my ass pointing up at him. I felt vulnerable, exposed, my smooth cheeks parted by the thin string of the thong. He pawed at my ass cheeks, his rough hands squeezing and kneading the flesh, making me moan softly. He moved the thong string aside, exposing my tight hole to the cool air. I heard him spit, then felt his warm, wet fingers probing my entrance, circling the tight ring of muscle. I knew what was coming, and I didn’t fight it. In fact, I found myself pushing back against his fingers, eager for more.
When he entered me with his spit-lubed cock, I winced and yelped. The pain was intense, a sharp, burning sensation as he stretched me wider than I’d ever been stretched before. He was gentle, though, pausing to let me adjust before pushing in deeper. After a few minutes, as I focused on my breathing, I learned to relax. I’d heard about the “second ring” — and with his size, I knew he was knocking on it. When my body finally gave way, a deep, guttural moan escaped my lips. I understood how gay guys could enjoy this so much.
Ron pushed past that second ring, and I felt a sensation I’d never experienced before — a deep, full ache that somehow transformed into pure pleasure. I cried out, not in pain anymore, but in ecstasy. My small dick, which I’d always been ashamed of, was now rock hard and leaking precum all over the locker room bench.
“Fuck yeah, take that dick,” Ron growled as he began to thrust deeper. His massive cock was stretching me wide, filling me completely. “I knew that fat ass of yours was made for fucking.”
Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through my body. My own cock was so hard it hurt, bouncing against my stomach with every movement. I reached down to touch it, desperate for some relief, but Ron slapped my hand away.
“Don’t you dare,” he commanded. “You’ll cum when I say you can. This is about me using that sweet ass of yours.”
He picked up the pace, fucking me harder and faster. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty locker room, mingling with our moans and grunts. I could feel his heavy balls swinging and smacking against me with each thrust, adding to the overwhelming sensations.
“Look at you,” Ron grunted, pulling my hair to arch my back. “All smooth and shaved in that red thong, taking my cock like a natural born bottom. Who knew you had it in you?”
I was moaning uncontrollably now, lost in the pleasure of being completely dominated by this alpha male. His hands roamed over my body, squeezing my ass cheeks, slapping them, making them red. Each slap sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my cock, making it twitch and leak even more. I felt like I was losing myself, becoming nothing but a vessel for his pleasure, and the thought was intoxicating.
“God damn, I could fuck this ass all day,” he said, slowing his pace but thrusting deeper, each deliberate push making me see stars. “You’re tighter than any pussy I’ve ever had. Better than any high school cheerleader I ever nailed.” He punctuated this with a particularly deep thrust that made me cry out.
He pulled out suddenly, leaving me feeling shockingly empty and desperate. My gaping hole clenched around nothing, aching to be filled again. “Turn around,” he ordered. My legs were so shaky I nearly collapsed as I flipped over onto my back. He grabbed my ankles and lifted them, pushing my knees toward my chest and spreading me wide open on the bench. The thong was still tangled around my waist, a red slash against my pale skin.
“I want to see your face when I make you mine,” he said, positioning himself at my entrance again. His massive cock stood out proudly, glistening with our combined fluids.
This time when he entered me, it was even more intense. I could see the raw desire in his eyes as he watched himself disappear inside me, inch by thick inch. He started stroking my small cock with his massive hand, and I nearly came immediately, my hips bucking uncontrollably.
“Not yet,” he warned, letting go and slapping my dick lightly. “I want you to beg for it.”
He continued to fuck me, changing angles, hitting spots I didn’t even know existed. The pleasure was overwhelming, and I was losing control. My mind was blank except for the sensation of his cock stretching me, filling me completely.
“Please,” I whimpered. “Please let me cum.”
Ron grinned, a predatory look in his eyes. “Beg for it like the little cock slut you are. Tell me how much you need my cock.”
“Please, Ron,” I moaned, tears of pleasure streaming down my face. “I need to cum so bad. Your big dick is making me crazy. Please let me shoot my load. I’ll do anything, just please let me cum.”
He started stroking my cock again, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. “Cum for me, you little bitch. Show me how much you love my cock in your ass. Milk my dick with that tight hole.”
That was all it took. I exploded, shooting cum all over my chest and stomach, some of it even hitting my chin. My ass clenched around his massive dick as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. It was the most intense orgasm of my life, and it seemed to go on forever.
Ron watched me cum, and it seemed to push him over the edge. “Fuck, yeah!” he roared, burying himself to the hilt as he filled me with his hot load. I could feel his cock pulsing inside me, pumping me full of his seed, so much of it that it started leaking out around his dick.
We stayed like that for a moment, both panting and sweating, before Ron slowly pulled out. I felt his cum dripping out of my ass, running down my thighs and pooling on the bench beneath me. He scooped some up with his fingers and brought them to my lips.
“Taste yourself,” he commanded. “Taste us.”
I obeyed, sucking his fingers clean, tasting the salty, musky flavor of our combined fluids.
He helped me up, and we stood there awkwardly for a second before he pulled me into a rough kiss. “That was fucking incredible,” he said, slapping my ass hard enough to leave a handprint. “From now on, after work, this ass is mine.”
I nodded, still dazed from the intense experience. “Yes, sir.”
Ron laughed. “Good answer. Now let’s get cleaned up before someone finds us.”
As we showered together this time, there was no awkwardness. Ron washed my back, his fingers tracing the curve of my ass, slipping between my cheeks to tease my still-sensitive hole. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I’m bringing some toys. I want to see how much that tight little hole of yours can handle.”
I felt a mix of fear and anticipation at his words. Whatever he had planned, I knew I would be ready for it. This new chapter of my life had just begun, and somehow, I knew Ron was going to push me to places I’d never imagined.