My name's Jessie, and for as long as I could remember, I'd been watching my Daddy run his roofing company. The day I turned sixteen, I told him I was done with just watching. I wanted in. He'd laughed, but seeing the determination in my eyes, he'd finally agreed.
I showed up at the job site the next morning dressed for the part in my scuffed work boots, a pair of cutoff denim shorts that were practically a second skin, a thin white tank top, and my blonde hair pulled back into two tight braids to keep it out of my face. The reaction was instant and obvious. The crew, a rough-around-the-edges group of men, suddenly became a flurry of activity. Shingles that I was supposed to carry were whisked away by strong arms. "I got that, Jessie," one of them would say, grinning. "You just tell us where you want it." They were all too happy to teach me, showing me how to line up the courses of shingles and where to place the nails. I was a quick study, and by mid morning, I was up on the roof, the sun hot on my back, hammering nails with a steady rhythm that earned me nods of approval.
The workday had a strange cadence. The mornings were a frantic rush of hammers and nail guns. The goal was always to finish the main work by noon. The second the clock struck twelve, tools were dropped and trucks were started. "Quittin’ time!" someone would yell, and we'd all pile into the trucks and head out. The guys were slipping me beers, cool cans pressed into my hand when Daddy was busy talking to a client or loading the truck. The buzz of the alcohol mixed with the sun, making everything feel warm and loose.
One Friday, things were different. The job was almost done, and Daddy was in a good mood. "We're going to the lake Jessie". When we arrived at my family’s lake front property, “You and me, we're taking the boat out," Daddy announced, pointing to his fishing boat bobbing at the dock. "Mike and Steve, you're with me. We'll catch some dinner."
I looked at the boat, then at the cooler of beer and the remaining three guys—Mark, Tom, and Billy—who were setting up chairs on the shore. "Actually, Daddy," I said, batting my eyes just a little, "I think I'm gonna stay here and help the guys finish setting up. I'm a little sunburned anyway."
He bought it, of course. "Alright, sweetheart. Don't let these boys give you any trouble."
As the boat pulled away from the dock, the atmosphere on the shore changed. The casual camaraderie of the workday was replaced by a charged, electric silence. Mark opened two beers and handed one to me, his fingers brushing mine. "So, Jessie," he said, his voice low. "You've been a real asset to the crew."
The compliment hung in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. Tom moved closer, his gaze drifting over my shorts and my legs. "More than an asset," he murmured. Billy just watched me with a hungry look that made my stomach clench. Between the sun and the beer, my head was spinning, but I wasn't scared. I was thrilled.
Led by Mark, we moved away from the main shoreline, into a small copse of trees that was hidden from the lake. It was a silent agreement. The moment we were hidden behind the thick pine trees, the air changed. It was cooler, smelling of damp earth and pine needles, but the humidity still clung to my skin. Mark didn't waste any time. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me flush against his chest, kissing me hard. His mouth tasted of cheap beer and peppermint, aggressive and demanding. Tom stepped up behind me immediately. His hands were rough, calloused from years of handling shingles, and they seared through the thin fabric of my tank top. He grabbed my hips, kneading the flesh there, his thumbs pressing into the softness of my lower back. Billy pushed by Mark, dropping to his knees right in front of me. He buried his face between my legs, his breath hot against the denim of my Daisy Dukes.
It was a chaotic, overwhelming rush of sensation. I felt like I was being pulled in three different directions, which was exactly how I liked it. Mark's tongue forced its way into my mouth, tangling with mine, while Tom lifted my shirt, breaking our contact for a moment while he pulled it over my head, tossing it aside so my chest was bare to the fading afternoon sun. Billy’s fingers fumbled with the button on my shorts, desperate and eager. When they finally came down, he buried his face between my thighs, his beard scratching tenderly against my sensitive skin. I couldn't help but let out a loud moan, which only made Mark groan into my neck.
The three of them worked in tandem to get me undressed. Rough hands pulled at my boots and socks, tossing them into the grass. They took turns each kissing me while the other two explored the rest of my body with their hands. It was a blur of skin and sweat. They passed me around like a prize, each one wanting a moment to claim me. I was on the ground, my back against the rough bark of a tree root, legs spread wide. One man was inside me, thrusting hard and fast, while another stood above me, guiding my head down to take him into my mouth. The third was kissing my breasts, teeth grazing my nipples while he stroked his cock, sending jolts of electricity straight to my core.
The sound of my moans mixed with their heavy breathing and the rustling of leaves. It was filthy and erotic, the kind of secret I felt guilty about but loved every second of. The friction was intense, the heat radiating off their bodies creating a cocoon around us. I could feel it building, the pressure tightening in my stomach, and I cried out as it broke over me, my body arching off the ground as they held me down, riding out the waves of pleasure with me. Mark pistoned his hips slamming into me until he filled me with his hot load, Billy fucked my face harder until he emptied his load into my mouth. I was so proud, I swallowed every drop. Billy, watching and stroking, let out a moan and squirted his hot load all over my face. Just as the aftershocks started to fade, I heard the distant rumble of a boat engine returning to the dock. The adrenaline spike made my heart hammer against my ribs. We scrambled to get ourselves back together, cleaning up cum on a beach towel, pulling on clothes and smoothing down hair, breathless and messy. We were ready just as the sound of footsteps crunched on the gravel near the tree line.
"All set, Mr. Evans," Mark answered, his voice perfectly steady.
On the ride home, Dad kept glancing over at me. "So," he said finally, his eyes on the road. "How'd the guys treat you on your first week? Be honest with me, Jessie."
I looked out the window, a secret smile playing on my lips. I could still feel the ghost of their hands on my skin. I turned back to him, my expression open and sweet. "They were great, Daddy," I said, and it wasn't even a complete lie. "Really great. I can't wait to work with them all summer.”
