The Gravel Pit Worker

original story by moritz. translated, revised and expanded by Moorer

It was one of those days when you could sense something in the air as soon as you got up. If something was going to go wrong, it was going to go wrong in a big way. And today was such a day for Ben. Although not everything that was about to happen was necessarily bad… The fact that he would arrive at work far too late, as he had forgotten to set the alarm on his phone, stressed him out. There was no time for a shower, even though it would have been necessary after a night of heavy drinking. Ben had drowned his sorrows in booze after recently breaking up with his girlfriend. Once again, things hadn’t gone as he had hoped. There was a void inside him that came with living together with her. Sure, the sex was somewhat nice, but it wasn’t enough for true inner satisfaction. The last spark was always missing. So it was only fair to draw the line and break up. Alone again... What would his buddies say, the ones he always bragged to about his masculinity and his ability to pick up any girl? Those thoughts raced through his mind as he threw on his old, orange safety coveralls—sweaty and worn. He had meant to wash them; they desperately needed it, but the frustration of the past few days had paralyzed all activity, leaving him no choice but to wear the dirty work coveralls again and slip his feet into the Purofort rubber boots provided by the company. Before leaving the apartment to catch the train, he took a quick look in the mirror. He stood there longer than expected. What he saw was a proper man—bearded and strong. One who gets things done, one who exudes masculinity, not some soft desk jockey. He liked how he looked; this was his ideal image of a man, and he would have enjoyed the sight even longer if he hadn’t had to catch the train. The ride to work was relaxed. He, in his work attire, was surrounded by office people, smelling of labor and manliness, in stark contrast to the freshly pressed suits. When he arrived at the gravel plant where he had worked since his apprenticeship, he was immediately called to the boss's office. "Running a bit late today, huh? But I see you’re dressed for the occasion. It’s like you had a premonition." Ben didn’t understand what his boss meant. "I have a special task for you today. You know the old pit at the end of our site that we haven’t used in a long time? We want to reactivate it, and someone needs to inspect and possibly clear the large drainage pipe. I thought of you. Grab the necessary equipment and get to work!"

"Me, of all people!?" Ben feigned outrage. He had been to the old pit some time ago and knew it was completely clogged. And now, after days of continuous rain, the condition was surely no better. However, the thought of working there alone and away from everyone else subconsciously appealed to him. Maybe it would help him clear his mind. He grabbed the Bekina waders from the locker just in case; you never know... The rest he could leave on; his safety coveralls were already dirty anyway. As he put on the waders, he once again realized how much he liked those sturdy boots. With them on, he felt both protected and strong. The look and smell of those old pieces added to the effect. "Actually," he thought to himself, "I should fucking wear these boots much more often!" He also grabbed his thick black rubber gloves that reached almost to his elbows from his locker and attached them to his belt. Of course, he couldn’t forget the yellow hard hat. Finally, he took a long rake with him to better clear any debris from the drainage pipe. Equipped like this, he set off to complete the task.
Upon arriving at the old pit, it quickly became clear that the drainage pipe was indeed clogged with debris. Ben stood on a brick wall that separated the pit from the pipe and tried to clear the pipe with the long rake. However, it was more difficult than he had thought. He had to exert a tremendous amount of force to make progress inch by inch. As he pulled the rake back towards him with all his might to get the dirt out of the pipe, it happened. He slipped on the smooth exposed bricks and landed with both legs in the muddy sludge below the wall. He sank up to his ankles immediately. No problem; he was used to that from other places in the gravel plant. However, since this pit had not been active for a long time, the mud and gravel had piled up into a thick and deep sludge. Ben would realize this sooner than he would have liked. He was stuck in the mud up to his ankles, and with his first attempt to free himself he fell backward into the dirt. The rubber boots were stuck too firmly in the mud, and he lost his balance. Now the rest of the orange on the back of his coveralls was muddy. "What a mess!" he thought as he tried to get back up, only to sink deeper. The mud-gravel mixture was quite firm, at least on the surface. Moisture pressed up from below; his boot soles had now reached a softer ground after breaking through the harder layer. He was now sunk up to his calves. The mud clung tightly around his boots, squeezing them together and showing no signs of wanting to let them go anytime soon. Ben took a short breath, contemplating what to do. "Thank goodness I put on the waders!" he thought. His regular rubber boots would have already disappeared over the edge by now. He shifted his weight to his left leg and tried to free his right with small, quick movements. He managed to move it a bit, but it also meant that he pushed his left leg deeper into the mud. He could feel his calves and shins tightly enveloped by the sludge, the blood pressing through his veins. Panic briefly rose in him, and he recklessly shifted his weight to his right leg, causing him to sink there as well, up to his knees. He could have just sat down. That would have taken the weight off his legs, and he could have reached under his knees and pulled his legs out of the mud piece by piece. But in that moment, Ben wasn’t thinking that far...

Instead, he stood still and sank involuntarily deeper. His feet felt no solid ground. The more Ben tried to free himself from his predicament, the worse it got. However, he gradually realized that alongside his slight panic about not getting out of here anytime soon, a sense of excitement was growing within him. "Fuck!" was all he could think as he felt his arousal increase at the thought of sinking deep into the mud, clad in heavy waders and work clothes. He had always liked how he looked in his work attire. Sometimes after work, when no one was around, he would jerk himself off in the locker room, spraying his semen on his Purofort boots or those of his colleagues. He had always enjoyed that, and it was certainly one of the reasons he chose to work at the gravel plant. Deep down, he knew he liked being stuck in the mud. However, he had never truly indulged in it before. But it had long been noticed by his colleagues that he always ended up quite dirty at work. Now, alone in the secluded pit, he was driven by an inner restlessness. He didn’t want to get out so quickly anymore. Every inch he sank deeper into the viscous sludge heightened his pulse. He realized that this excited him much more than he had thought. He slowly began to understand what had been missing in all his relationships so far. This thrill, the feeling of being helpless, the growing restriction of movement, and the unstoppable urge to venture deeper into the mud in full gear and heavy boots, against all logic. His mind was switched off; his arousal took over his thoughts. He shifted his weight multiple times and sank deeper and deeper. The mud now reached the top of his waders. The wet sludge overflowed the rim of his thigh-high rubber boots and slowly crawled down his legs along the fabric of his coveralls. This made him even more excited than he already was. He unzipped his coveralls and pulled out his massive hard cock, which was already slightly covered in pre-cum. He still felt no solid ground beneath his soles. He took the heavy rubber gloves from his belt and slipped them over his arms. His swollen balls were now touching the sludge. He enjoyed the feeling of his balls slowly disappearing into the mud and how the sludge pushed his hard penis upward. Ben responded with a pleasurable moan. He felt the pressure on his legs increase. They were almost cemented in the mud. He consciously pushed aside the thought that this might be a problem later during an attempt to free himself; but Ben wanted to sink even deeper. It paid off that he regularly went to the gym: he had strength in his legs and upper arms. The deeper he penetrated the squelching mud hole, the more the thick sludge caressed his rock-hard cock. Almost involuntarily, his hips began to thrust forward and then backward again. Initially hesitantly, but very soon he knew he wanted to fuck the mud! The viscous sludge responded with a greedy squelch. He accepted that with every powerful thrust of his hard cock, he sank deeper into the dirt. He was already submerged up to his belly. As Ben struggled through the mud, he noticed an old drainage pipe just below the surface in front of him. If only he could stretch far enough forward, he might be able to grab it and pull himself out of the muddy mess. But he didn’t. He was far too aroused at the moment. His horniness was winning over his reasoning.

Ben was now sunk up to his chest in the mud, feeling the viscous sludge pressing in around him. Breathing became increasingly difficult. Sweat collected in his thick, short hair beneath his hard hat, trickling down his forehead and face, dripping into the muck. His arousal intensified; he had never experienced such a strong erection before, and he had to be careful not to climax too soon with his movements beneath the surface. He was far from the end of this journey.
He pressed his arms along his body into the mud, then moved them back up, intending to push himself deeper into the sludge. After some time, he found himself submerged up to his neck. The wet muck flowed over the collar of his coveralls, and he could feel his carotid artery pulsing against the cool mud, with only his head remaining above the surface. Ben breathed shallowly and quickly, overwhelmed by an incredible horniness.
Once more, he moved his arms along his body and managed to sink so deeply that his beard dipped into the mud. Ben was submerged up to his lower lip and his ears in the muck. If someone had happened to walk by now from above the wall, they would have only seen Ben's yellow hard hat. In the depths of this muddy mess, Ben could distinctly smell the gentle earthy scent of the mud. He was completely drenched in sweat, but the moisture of the mud seeped through his coveralls and cooled him. He was almost entirely immobilized; the pressure was increasing, and the mud squelched with every movement he made. Amidst all this, Ben felt unprecedented arousal. Usually he always acts like he’s in charge, but now he found himself trapped, helpless, completely engulfed in the mud. He could hardly contain himself any longer. His cock, rock hard, pressed against the slimy sludge beneath him. He still felt no solid ground under his boots. He should have stopped thrusting to avoid sinking even deeper, but the overwhelming pleasure compelled him to continue. He wanted to cum in the mud at all costs, despite being buried up to his ears and having to tilt his head slightly upward to breathe. He whimpered with effort. It didn’t take much more. A few powerful yet laborious thrusts later, Ben finally released himself with loud grunts and moans.
He twitched as if jolted by electricity, shooting warm semen in six or seven intense bursts into the mud. A smile spread across his face as endorphins flooded his brain, enveloping him in an absolute feeling of bliss. Never before had he felt so aroused.

Panting heavily, his mind slowly began to function again. He needed to think about how to get out of this predicament. However, after a brief moment of rest, he thoughtlessly moved his arms upward to lift them above the surface of the mud. That’s when it happened! He sank completely beneath the muck. Only his helmet now marked the spot on the surface where his flushed and sweaty head had just been visible. Panic surged within him. It was quiet and dark; the mud had a pleasant temperature, and he floated as if weightless, completely enveloped. He had exhausted himself and knew he couldn’t hold his breath for long. "Fuck! Is this it?" raced through his mind. Was he actually going to die in the mud after the hottest orgasm he had ever experienced? It almost seemed that way.

But suddenly, he remembered the piece of drainage pipe from earlier, which should be just an arm's length away. With great effort, he stretched his arms forward, hoping to grasp something. To his luck, he did! He grabbed the end of the old drainage pipe and pulled himself forward with all his strength, making a quick, powerful jerk. He managed to lift his head above the surface, took a deep breath, and let out a sigh of relief. Completely exhausted and breathing heavily, he remained there for several minutes, drained of all strength. How would he ever get out of here? He couldn’t really call for help; no one would hear him out here, and how could he explain his situation? He had no choice but to free himself. His boss was probably already wondering where he had been for so long.
First, Ben roughly cleared his face of the mud with his rubber gloves, though it didn’t work very well. The gloves were heavy and caked with muck. Then he began to dig the mud away from his chest, shoveling the sludge aside with both hands. This created some space around his upper body. He threw himself forward and backward to increase the radius around him, careful not to let the mud slide back in, or all his efforts would be in vain. His upper body was now free, but he was still quite deep in the mud. He needed to find a way to lift his legs and himself upward. However, he remained firmly stuck; there was no chance of gaining height. His attempts to brace himself failed, as he kept sinking up to his elbows. The only option left was to pull himself closer to the drainage pipe to reach and loosen the bricks of the surrounding wall. This worked well with the old wall, and he was able to lay some bricks beside him. Now he had support; he could brace himself and try to push upward.
With the smallest movements in his boots, he attempted to loosen the area around his feet, and after what felt like an eternity, he succeeded. He shoveled the mud away, braced himself on the bricks, and moved his lower body up. He felt the mud nearby liquefy around his body, loosening its grip. Having cleared a relatively large radius, he managed to reach behind his right knee with both hands, allowing him to pull on his wader. He repeated this on the left side as well. Again, he dug into the mud in front of him, shoveling the masses away, and soon his calves were free. Now he could sit at the edge of the mud hole. His weight was no longer on his legs, and he could finally free them. He laid them to both sides of the crater he had formed around himself. The shape and color of the waders were unrecognizable; they were just clumps of mud and felt incredibly heavy.
Ben huffed like a bull after the hard work, but a deep satisfaction spread within him as he leaned back with his upper body to rest at the edge of the mud hole. One thing was for sure: he wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow due to muscle soreness, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He simply enjoyed the moment, lying completely dirty like a boar in a wallow. For a few minutes, he pondered what had just happened.
Now he just wanted to go home. But how could he, looking as filthy as he was? Ben sat up and noticed that his hard hat was still lying in the mud hole where he had just been stuck. There was no chance of retrieving it now without risking sinking back in. "Ah, screw it!" he thought. "Let it stay there... I need to clean myself up first." The only option left was to jump into the nearby stream in full gear, which he did. The water of the stream turned brown, but he managed to restore his coveralls and boots to a somewhat original state. Fortunately, the weather was pleasant, so he didn’t have to freeze. Soaked like a poodle, Ben returned to the office after what felt like an eternity.
"What happened to you? You look soggy!" his boss exclaimed. "The drainage pipe is still clogged; I’ll take care of it tomorrow. I’ve had enough for today. I’m going home!" was Ben’s gruff reply. His boss was used to seeing him dirty from time to time—usually dirtier than the other employees—but he had never seen him like this before. Ben’s boss had an inkling about what must have happened, simply nodded silently and disappeared into his office.
Ben went to the locker room and took off his Bekina waders and rubber gloves. A lot of dirty water flowed onto the floor and into the drain. Since he had come to work in his coveralls, he couldn’t really change clothes. So he had no choice but to put on his Puroforts, as dirty and wet as he was, and head home. Ben left the gravel plant and boarded the next train. As he sat down, not only did the seat get wet, but a small puddle formed on the floor as well. Some of the other passengers looked at him with irritation as they walked by, but Ben didn’t notice or care. His thoughts were elsewhere. He replayed the situation in his mind and concluded that he had finally discovered his true passion! He would visit that mud hole again, that much was certain...