That Friday afternoon on the construction site just wouldn’t end. Even though I’d been doing this job for five years, I still had that feeling. I kept checking my watch, then looking toward the container to see if the boss would notice we were packing up the tools early. It wasn’t the same eager hunger for freedom I’d had as a beginner, when the job felt like a prison. That feeling stays with most workers. Still, I refused to let it win. Ever since I’d decided after high school—to my parents’ disappointment—to become a construction worker instead of going to university, I’d been trying to prove to myself and everyone else that I could handle the job like a real man. I think I succeeded. Five years in, the work didn’t break me the way it used to. But still, that Friday afternoon dragged on forever.

I started cleaning the tools and glanced toward the container. The boss was standing in front of it. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, and his gut would have stretched even the largest coverall. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle that echoed across the whole site.

“David, come to the office before you leave!” he shouted so everyone could hear.

Jim was a good boss. Strict and authoritative, but fair. He knew how to yell. No — more like a roar, and when you combined that with his two hundred and sixty pounds, it sounded intimidating. But above all, he was a decent guy and didn’t hold grudges. He solved every problem with a talk. Usually over a beer after work.

We already knew from the way he spoke and the look on his face what kind of mood he was in and what he wanted. In those few seconds while I watched him, I realized he wasn’t completely calm, but he wasn’t angry either. I just nodded, raised the index finger of my right hand still covered by the dirty glove, and kept packing up. Still, it bothered me. Why was he calling me in? If I’d done something wrong, he would have come over and shouted in my ear. On the other hand, if it weren’t important, he definitely wouldn’t have called me into the office. While my coworkers were already thinking about the usual Friday beers that often turned into a lot more beers, I was thinking about the one-on-one with Jim in that narrow, makeshift office.

When we finally finished, I peeled off the dirty, sweaty coverall and headed to the neighboring container — Jim’s office. Trying to keep a cool exterior, I knocked before walking in but didn’t wait for an answer. Jim sat behind his desk in the cramped space. The room was so tight his belly touched the desk while he sat on the wooden chair. He had already changed into civilian clothes — a blue polo shirt with the company logo in the largest size, which he barely fit into.

“Boss, you wanted to see me,” I said, but my voice no longer sounded as confident and carefree. I was still wondering what Jim had to tell me. He didn’t look angry, so I had no real reason to worry, yet I still felt uneasy.

“I’ve got one good piece of news and one bad,” Jim said, looking me straight in the eye and continuing right away.

“The bad news is the company is sending you to a new site in Westville for two months...” He paused, swallowed, probably looking for my reaction, then went on, “ ... and the good news is you’d be the foreman there.”

Silence. While my brain processed the information, I stopped smelling the concrete, the sweat, the stinking feet, and all the usual construction-site smells. I was weighing the pros and cons. Westville, two months, foreman ... I was stacking it all in my head. Between the appeal of a position that rarely went to someone my age and the fact that I had to leave for another town, away from my girlfriend and friends, only one thought kept echoing: my grandma lived there.

Jim broke the silence when he saw me struggling with the news.

“I know this is a shock. I know you’re not happy about leaving while your girl and your friends are here, but it’s only two months, and you’d be home every weekend. Opportunities like this don’t come around often. David, go home. You’ve got the whole weekend to think it over, then tell me Monday what you decided.”

“Alright. Monday...” was all I managed before walking out.

My coworkers were standing outside, and I couldn’t avoid their curious faces. They were waiting for me — not just for the beers, but because they wanted to know why the boss had called me in. On the way to the bar, I told them everything. Even though most of them were older than me and maybe expected one of them to get the promotion, they still congratulated me. I knew that night the drinks would be on me.

As always, someone left after the first round, someone after the second, and a good part of us stayed late into the night. That evening I was one of those who stayed. Like every construction worker, I could handle my alcohol.

After the second round, I stopped thinking about Westville, about Jim, about the job. It was Friday — time to cut loose without worrying about going overboard, because tomorrow was Saturday and I could sleep as long as I wanted.

I don’t remember what time it was when I got back to my apartment. Of course, it wasn’t really mine — I was renting. It was a small place in an unattractive part of town, furnished with stuff from before I was even born. The radiators leaked, the windows didn’t close properly, and the water in the bathroom drained one drop at a time. Still, that apartment was the first thing I’d ever gotten for myself. The moment I started working, I paid the first month’s rent from my first paycheck and moved out of my parents’ house. I wanted to be independent, to prove to everyone I could do it. And mostly, I wanted to justify to my family that I hadn’t gone to college.

It was noon by the time the phone woke me. I was still half-asleep, trying to figure out what was happening. When I was climbing out of bed and searching for my phone in the pocket of my jeans, the ringing stopped. The Nokia screen showed only a missed call from Nicole.

Nicole was my girlfriend, three years younger than me, and we’d been together a little over a year. Unlike me, she was in college. She was pretty dedicated to her studies and still lived with her parents about half an hour’s drive from the city. During the week we’d see each other sometimes in the evenings, at least twice a week, and on weekends we’d be together from Saturday afternoon until the end of my night out. Sometimes she’d sleep over from Saturday to Sunday.

I called her back.

“Hey, you awake?” she asked right away. “I’m in the city now, so I’ll be there in about an hour.”

I had enough time to get myself together before she arrived. When she knocked, I was already decent. We hugged and kissed immediately. I went after her mouth hungrily, my hands all over her.

“God, I missed you. We haven’t seen each other in two days,” I said excitedly.

She liked the attention, but she still pulled herself together, slipped out of my arms, and led me toward the living-room couch.

“What were you talking about yesterday when you called me from the bar? You mentioned Westville, a promotion ... I didn’t really understand because you were drunk and it was loud,” she asked as soon as we sat down.

“Hm, I don’t even remember calling you, ha ha,” I said, laughing at my own stupidity. Then I continued more seriously. “Yeah, the company wants me to go to a new project in Westville. Only for two months, and I’d be home every weekend. I’d be promoted to foreman there.”

“Wow, really? That’s an amazing opportunity!” she said enthusiastically. Her body language said everything.

“But still, that’s a whole work week we won’t see each other,” I added.

“True, but it’s only a few weeks. I’m busy with school anyway, so during the week we only see each other maybe once or twice. Then we’d have the whole weekend together. I really think you shouldn’t pass this up. And you’ll finally visit your grandma,” Nicole said reasonably.

“True, I haven’t seen Grandma since last Christmas.”

Her support meant a lot. She was right. The decision was almost made. As for my parents, I wasn’t worried; I’d get their opinion tomorrow when I join them for the usual Sunday lunch.

I went after her again. We started kissing passionately, and piece by piece, our clothes ended up on the couch and the floor. Her long blonde hair contrasted with the couch’s dark cover. Our bodies tangled as we tore off the last pieces of clothing. As always, in these moments Nicole transformed — from a sweet, proper, seemingly innocent girl into someone passionate and unrestrained. When the last scrap of clothing hit the floor and we were naked, my head ended up on her firm breasts while her arms wrapped tightly around my back. I sucked on her hard nipples, and the sight of her smooth, shaved pussy literally pulled me in. I couldn’t resist tasting her again.

As I moved my head down from her breasts, kissing every inch of her soft skin on the way to her crotch, I whispered, “God, that sweet little pussy of yours...”

I immediately went at the pink slit with my mouth, the tip of her clit slightly protruding at the top. I sucked it and ran my tongue from the very top all the way down to the hole. Her young pussy got wet and open under my tongue right away. I licked her clit, sucked it, licked her lips, then pushed my tongue deep into the slit again. She had that bittersweet taste that you want forever, once you’ve tried it.

“Oh, I love when you do that...” she murmured softly, rolling her hips to the rhythm that felt good to her.

While my tongue focused on her clit, the middle finger of my right hand slowly searched for her entrance. I found it. I slowly stretched her wet inside, opening her as much as needed. When I pushed deeper, I curled the finger upward so the tip brushed the front wall where her G-spot was. Nicole jerked and shivered every time I hit that spot.

In the middle of that heat, her hand frantically searched for my cock.

“Ah, give it to me. I want it. Bad. Now!” she said in that soft but turned-on voice.

I pulled my head away from her pussy, licked my lips, and took my finger out. She adjusted—one leg pulled up against the back of the couch, the other spread, her foot on the floor, so I had better access.

I held myself above her with one hand. I kissed her on the mouth, so she tasted herself on my lips and tongue. With the other hand, I guided my cock to her entrance. My cock was average size but with a more pronounced head. I remembered our early days when we were still learning and weren’t fully in sync; back then I’d been too fast and rough in the heat of the moment, and it hadn’t felt good for her. Over time I’d gotten more experienced, and we had become compatible, so now I knew I had to enter her carefully.

The big head touched her pussy. I rubbed it up and down with my hand, from her clit all the way to the hole. Then I started pushing slowly. A little at first, then stopped, repeating the motion until I was all the way inside. Her pussy stretched and adjusted as much as it needed to. I stayed still for a few moments, then she started moving, looking for friction. I followed her rhythm and increased it until I was fucking her at a steady pace. The leg that had her foot on the floor lifted higher. After a couple of minutes, with my cock deep inside her, I moved the supporting hand so I could lower my full weight onto her. I grabbed her legs and bent them as far as they would go toward her body. That’s how I fucked her best — how I felt her the most. My cock slid in and out of her pussy while she got louder and louder.