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My New Life, Chapter 2: Baptism by drain oil

I've already told the story of how I learned the joy of being muddy and greasy. It happened after I got fed up with my life and with working in the corporate world after college, so one day I just said "To hell with it", quit without notice, loaded up my truck with clothes, tools, and camping gear, and left. I didn't know where I was going, just that I was going.,

And then one night, as my money was running out and I knew I needed a job, I met Luke. He grew up an auto wrecking yard and was stranded with a broken down truck in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain. In trying to help him, I got greasy, soaked through with mud, and thrilled by an arousal I didn't see coming. I loved it! I ended up working until after dawn with him, soaked and soaked through with mud the entire time. To him it was just another day in mud and grease, but for me, it was new, fun, and most of all, arousing.

It was nine in the morning when we finally finished rescuing Luke's truck after working all night. His dad had a small travel trailer for an employee to stay in, but the employee had quit, so it was empty and Luke insisted I stay there for a few days as their guest. I took a hot shower and fell asleep immediately in my sleeping bag. I slept all day until I was awakened around 6pm by a knocking on the door. It was a wiry older guy in greasy coveralls who introduced himself as Luke's father, Mac. He thanked me profusely for helping his son. We chatted a little, then he said that Luke wanted him to offer me a job. I was stunned. I started to thank him, but his tone suddenly changed.

"You're a college guy." It wasn't a question. More like an accusation.

I stammered an affirmative reply.

"Let me see your hands". I held them out and he turned them palms up. Sounding thoroughly disgusted, he said, "You haven't worked a day in your life." I tried protesting that I'd pumped gas part time in college in Oregon, but he wasn't impressed. "That's not real work. Working here isn't like pumping gas. It's filthy, hard, dangerous work. I've always had a strict rule. College guys don't work here. Never. You guys think you're so special and know so much, but you know nothing. Especially you don't know how to work."

There was a long pause, like he wasn't sure he knew what he was going to say. "But I've got to admit, what you did for my son last night was outstanding. Most people would have just left him there, alone in the middle of nowhere in a storm. You've never been wet and dirty like last night. Am I right?"

"No sir. Never."

"But you spent the whole night soaking wet helping him. I saw your clothes outside. They are filthy." He paused again. "I respect what you did for Luke. I'll probably regret this, but if you want a job, you've got it."

I stammered out a thanks.

"You're part of the family now. My wife will have dinner ready at 6:30. Just come in. Don't knock. And don't wear your boots into the house. She's strict about that." He started to leave, but turned to me again. "You probably haven't met Walt yet."

"No."

"I gotta warn you. Walt's my other employee. Been with me for years. Really good worker. You'll learn a lot from him. But he hates college guys even more than I hate them. Can't stand you guys. He'll make you prove yourself. That's up to you to deal with. Don't come whining to me. I'll see you at dinner. If you're late, you go hungry."

I worked the next three days. Mac was right. It wasn't easy work. I was so exhausted after working all day that the first evening, I was almost too tired to eat. I got filthy every day, and when it rained, I got wet. And Walt did make me prove myself. Constantly. He gave me the dirtiest, wettest, messiest jobs every time. And he called me "College guy" all the time.

But really, the hardest time every day wasn't the work, it was the night. Being greasy and muddy aroused me. I didn't see it coming. When I was in college and working in an office, I never knew how arousing mud and grease could be. Working here, I crawled into my sleeping bag every night exhausted but hard, my cock stiff as a board, thinking only of sex. I prefer women, but I was getting so horny, I would have had sex with anyone or anything. I hoped no one outside heard me masturbating. I was just so aroused every night. I had never wanted sex so bad.

Mac had warned me that Walt would try to make me prove myself. After three days of Walt giving me the dirtiest, messiest jobs, I was feeling pretty good that I had proven myself, that I wasn't just a wimpy college guy. I was working hard and getting filthy every day and loving it. This wasn't so bad. I was showing them I could do the job.

But then came the fourth day. Walt pointed to an old Ford Powerstroke truck and told me to bring him its oil sump. I wanted him to impress him with what I knew. "That thing's got about four gallons of oil," I said, "I'll go get a bucket to drain it before I pull the sump."

He wasn't impressed. "Just get me the damned sump. I already drained it. Yesterday. Do what you're told, college guy" he said, sounding pissed." I was starting to hate him calling me "college guy".

I got my tools and walked over the Ford. It was four wheel drive with lots of ground clearance, so it would easy to crawl under and get the sump. This would be quick and easy. I crawled underneath and started loosening bolts, one by one, working around the sump until it was loose. As it loosened, I could tell Walt was wrong. That thing held oil. Lots of oil. Probably the full four gallons. When I got the last bolt free, I tried holding it up, but I wasn't ready for how heavy it was. It tilted to one side. Thick black drain oil flowed out onto my shirt before I could rebalance it. The oil sump was now resting on my chest, my hands very carefully keeping it balanced so no more would spill out.

I was sure Walt had made a mistake. Maybe he'd drained the oil on a different truck. He probably didn't mean for me to pull it from this truck. I was going to carefully put it on the ground and crawl out from under the truck to tell him, but then I saw two pairs of boots just a few feet away. It was Luke and Walt. I hadn't seen them approach. They were probably watching to see what the college guy would do.

But what was the right thing for me to do? The sensible thing would be exactly what I planned, gently set down the oil sump before I spilled any more oil and then crawl out from under the Ford. That would be the sensible, college guy thing to do. But was it what I should do? Every job Walt had given me so far had been the filthiest jobs in the yard. He'd want me to do whatever was filthiest.

Or was I just overthinking it, like a college guy? I'd had a great time these three days working with Luke. I didn't want him to see me as the pansy college guy that Walt and Luke's dad thought I was.

Fuck it. I tilted the pan. Oil flowed over me. The more I poured, the more it soaked in. Four gallons is a LOT of oil when it's pouring onto you! I put the pan down for a moment and unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on my shirt, then lifted the pan and let more oil pour out over me, soaking my tee shirt and flowing down to my back. I could feel it pooling back there, cool and slimy and wonderful in my shirt.

I moved the pan down to my legs and slowly poured oil over my jeans. As the oil seeped into my clothes, it was like that night in the mud with Luke. I loved how it felt. It felt so good, better than I ever could have imagined, but I knew I couldn't admit it to the guys. For them, they were just testing the new guy, but for me, it meant so much more. I was aroused. Again. I wanted drain oil pouring over me every day. What a feeling!

After emptying the sump, I crawled out from under the truck, hoping no one would see my bulging cock. It was pushing hard against my jeans. I'd never felt it so hard. I didn't want to go back to work. I wanted sex. Any sex. I didn't care what kind. As I stood up, drain oil flowed down my shirt and jeans. My clothes were almost all black with oil. I must have looked like a horror movie monster emerging from a tar pit.

In the three days I'd worked with Walt, I'd hardly seen him smile. He was pretty gruff. But now he smiled at me, then turned to Luke and said, "Maybe he'll work out after all. It's lunch time. Let's go eat", and walked away.

I stood there with Luke, loving the feeling of oil soaked clothes, hoping he didn't see the bulge under my fly. But he smiled and said, "Feels good, doesn't it." He knew it, damn it, he knew. "Just remember, when we're at work, we work. Don't matter how hard we are."

I relaxed a little. It didn't matter if he saw.

He looked me over. "Man, you really did it to yourself with that drain oil. You won't have any more problems with Walt. He was impressed. He expected you to find some excuse not to do it. Hell, I'm impressed."

I said, "I feel like I've been baptized."

"Baptized?"

"Yeah, into a new life. Baptism by drain oil."

"I like it", Luke said, picking up the oil sump and pouring what little oil was left onto my hat. "I declare you officially baptized" as I felt the oil flowing down my neck. "You're one of us now. A working guy. Now let's eat."

As we walked to the lunch table, I noticed a woman already there. About my age. She looked at me. And smiled. We just stared at each other for a few moments. I was probably grinning like a clown. Luke said, "That''s Sandy. She does our books."

"Single?" I asked.

"Yep. And I told her about you. You'll like her."

I knew then, I was going to love this job. But that's a tale for a different story.