The Cleaners

Still a bit sleepy, Dennis sat in his car and drove over the city highway on the outskirts of the big city where he lived. The clock showed 05:33 a.m. and the city was bathed in diffuse dawn on this Monday in May. But he had no eyes for this natural spectacle. Fuck! He cursed to himself because the heater of his old Ford was not working properly. He shivered a bit in the thin T-shirt he was wearing. The 19-year-old was 5″10 tall, and had dark brown hair, which he wore in a short haircut. His last year of apprenticeship was almost over, and due to restructuring, today was his first day of work in a new team.

Finally, he turned onto the grounds of the municipal waste disposal company, where he was training to become a garbage collector. Some people turned up their noses at his career choice, but Dennis liked the physical work in the fresh air, the comparatively high salary, and at least the feeling of really having made a difference every day. Standing dumbly on a conveyor belt somewhere or even sitting at a desk as a suit clown was out of question for him. One disadvantage was the early start of the shift, but in many other jobs it was no different. He parked his car in the large employee parking lot, pulled up to the entrance, logged in and shuffled toward the locker room.

There was already a lot of activity there, with colleagues crowding in front of the numerous lockers. Routinely, he also exchanged his street clothes for the bright orange high-visibility clothing. Actually, it had been one of the reasons for choosing this profession: To wear these horny clothes all day, to sweat them in and to watch the other guys in them and to have them around him. The young garbage man was into men, but nobody in his environment needed to know that. The reactions were too uncertain, and he didn't want to risk any stress, especially not with his superiors. So, he preferred to live out his special clothes fetish privately, but had already smuggled his work clothes home several times to get horny in them and then skim off nicely groomed.

Dennis had lounged in a corner of the well-filled break room with his breakfast, a small bottle of Coke. He still had ten minutes until the start of his shift. The air was stuffy from the heater turned up full, and there was a slight smell of sausage rolls and vending machine coffee. On one of the windowsills, the radio was softly droning on, barely able to compete with the babble of voices in the room. "Ey, pen!" it suddenly roared across the common room, making Dennis wince as the conversations fell silent and some colleagues turned around curiously. The trainee looked up in amazement, his breath caught in his throat for a moment as he saw an Arab-looking guy approaching him: about 6″0 tall with very broad shoulders and a bald head. Instead, however, a thick, slightly shaggy full beard of jet-black hair that sprang from the middle of his ears and southern, deeply tanned skin.

With big, thudding steps of his heavy work shoes reinforced with steel caps, he came to his table, grinning and chewing gum. The shafts of the half-heeled shoes were hidden by the blue-gray leg ends of the orange dungarees, which had double reflective stripes. A tight-fitting ochre T-shirt was bulging with rather voluminous pectoral muscles. Over this he wore an open-faced jacket, in the same high-visibility design as the pants. He stood up in front of the boy and gave him a wave, "Come on, hurry up, our tour is about to start!" - "Oh..." was all Dennis said, downed the rest of his Coke and followed the guy, who was apparently one of his new colleagues. When he had unlocked, he introduced himself briefly: "Morning, I'm Saad! We are late, the center is already hard at bitching. You'll get to know the guys during the ride." Dennis nodded silently and followed into the courtyard, where a whole armada of garbage trucks stood in the floodlights.

The number 022 was theirs. Two other colleagues were already waiting in front of the ultra-modern vehicle: a somewhat older, stocky bald man with a bulging belly and a gold earring, and another muscular guy with short-cropped blond hair who was chewing gum. Both were in orange high-vis, the reflective stripes flashing in the glow of the switched-on headlights, and the heavy diesel engine was already warming up. Dennis' tail stood stock-still in his own high-vis pants, the sight of his new colleagues was really intense. Hopefully no one noticed how much the colleagues turned him on.

"Guys, this is our new guy! Pen, tell us your name and we'll get started right away! We have the H11 today. It's going to be a long day today with three unloads." Dennis introduced himself briefly and learned the names of his colleagues: The bald guy was named Thomas or "Tommy" and was their driver, and the blond guy introduced himself as Sandro. They got in and joined the line of garbage trucks leaving the site to fan out to the nearby big city. The radio droned on in the background, interrupted only occasionally by the crackle of the voice radio. Silently, huddled close together in the four seats and still a bit tired, the men made the trip to their first duty station. Dennis was the youngest and, as a trainee, last in the pecking order of the team anyway. Therefore, he was usually used as a runner: Went up the road ahead, made sure that the garbage cans were ready for his colleagues at the side of the road, and if necessary, already unlocked the little gates to bring out the big collection garbage cans. The runner's job was the most stressful, because in addition to presorting both sides of the street, he occasionally had to help the loaders with the lifting mechanism for the garbage cans. After two years on the job, he had already developed the right sense of when to help where and was no longer in the way of his colleagues.

"Okay, guys, we'll be right there. Pen, you're a runner today. If you need help, you call Sandro, otherwise you get us the garbage cans, all right?" - "Jo," Dennis nodded and looked briefly at his blond colleague, who winked at him. Then they had arrived at the starting point of their route. Silently, the door opened, and the men left the cabin. The rising sun shone and made the reflective stripes on their clothes glow. At the beginning it was still a bit chilly, so they kept their jackets on. But later they would gratefully discard them and work in just a T-shirt and dungarees. With a quick step, Dennis walked ahead down the street, pulling his work gloves out of his jacket pockets and putting them on. A satisfied grin stole over his lips as he briefly looked at the gloves.

Their employer gave them several models to choose from, but for him there could only be one: Nitras work gloves covered in dark blue nitrile that fit snugly, offered good grip, and protected them from dirt, nasty residue, and sharp hazards. But even more important for the trainee was their horny appearance, when they shimmered matt in the light and the awesome soft feeling, when he rubbed them with a little lubricant and firmly enclosed his boner with it. That moment when the super-slippery glove inside slid along his shaft and the bare glans, the dirty smacking sound when jerking off and the sight of how his hard-on protruded from the open fly of the high-vis pants! How exciting when the glans of his cock dipped rhythmically up and down from inside the clenched fist of shiny nitrile. In addition, the pleasant feeling of the quietly crackling polyester inner fabric of the pants against the bare skin, outside the bright orange and the reflective stripes.

Why this sight made him go so steep, the boy could not explain. Actually, he didn't give a damn either. The apprentice only knew that he had always been into high-visibility protection and could mutate into a real dirty little pig in it, letting go of all inhibitions. Both pants and gloves he had already used extensively, in the evening even almost more than at work: Wear the HighVis pants on the naked skin and then get off in it so often that the inner fabric in the crotch was already quite stiff from dried sperm. Or kneel naked in front of the pants, wrap one of the pant legs around the hard-on and jerk off. The special feeling of the reflective stripes on the wet glans until he shot his load. Then proudly looking at the mess on the pants, bending over it and smearing his semi-hard cock through the warm messy sauce until it was spread over a large area on the orange fabric and the pipe was standing hard again. Within minutes he was then ready for the next shot. The fact that all his work clothes were only on loan from his employer and would have to be returned at some point gave him an extra kick. It was certainly not the best way to deal with loans, and he got a kick out of the idea of how naughty he was. Besides, he thought about how others would wear his clothes later. Not suspecting how much fun he had with it before, even if they would have been washed in the meantime of course.

They had completed the first third of the tour efficiently, soon they were a well-rehearsed team and Saad liked how the new guy was doing. The work was physically hard, the miles run as well as each additional ton made themselves felt and so they all sweated already properly under their clothes. None of them was cold anymore and after work they would all know what they had done. Dennis sat silently on the particularly narrow seat right next to the passenger door, next to him sat their team leader Saad, next to him Sandro and the driver. By now, they were on their way to the dump for the first time to unload the household waste. They lounged lazily in the large cabin of the garbage truck, chatting about soccer results from the previous weekend.

Again, Dennis had a hard-on in his pants because the image of the densely packed guys sitting next to each other in the high-visibility gear had triggered him. In contrast to this morning, their clothes had already gotten one or the other dark streak of dirt and a slight smell of sweat was noticeable on all of them. Awesome! The trainee liked this tangy smell, and he was really lucky to have ended up in this crew. Because all of them, even the somewhat stockier driver, were visually to his liking. None of them was a real turn-off. But he especially liked their team leader, that horny guy.

While he was bringing in the garbage cans, he had been able to observe Saad very well while he was emptying them. Everything that this giant did radiated power and strength: How the muscular guy hefted the small garbage cans into position with ease, the larger garbage cans with vigorous physical effort, how he opened and closed their lids, how he issued instructions to the rest of his team through gestures and terse commands. Most of the time, Dennis had been carrying a boner around in his high-vis pants and longed to get back home so that he could fat off on his horny new boss. But now that he was sitting right next to the horny guy, his piston had increased so much in hardness that it almost hurt and his bulge could now, without a jacket, hardly remain hidden even when sitting.

Their driver Tommy had dropped the men off shortly before at a small bus shelter where they could take a short coffee break while he drove on to the dump to unload the first load. Two other teams were already waiting in the little house, they greeted each other, got talking while they enjoyed their coffee from thermos flasks. This profession was almost exclusively in the hands of men. The prestige and the physically hard work were usually not for women, as their boss had once put it. In fact, not a single woman was to be found in high-vis in their company, at least Dennis had never seen one. Accordingly, the tone among colleagues could sometimes be rough and blunt.

Dennis didn't care; what mattered to him at work was what his boss told him, and otherwise the rest of the world could pretty much cross him. In addition, the individual teams were under constant time pressure, because tour planning and tour execution were usually two different pairs of shoes. Practically every day there were delays somewhere and this had an effect on the stations that had to be reached afterwards. And that in turn caused stress with headquarters and in the teams. Yes, there were sometimes real fuck-off days where you would have loved to drive your truck backwards into the headquarters at the end of the day to unload and shower these fuckers with shit.

But these were only Dennis' thoughts, outwardly he remained rather passive, listened to the conversations, said a few words now and then and otherwise left the others to talk. Just do not attract too much attention and besides, he could enjoy the horny sight of the other guys in their clothes in peace. Every halfway respectable guy became an object of his desire in high-vis gear. It was for him simply one of the hottest jobs he could imagine. And relatively good money to boot: what more could you ask for?

One by one, the colleagues were picked up again by their drivers and it was finally time for their team to move on as well. Tommy loaded them and they continued their route. Same game as in the morning. At 3:30 p.m., they were finally able to call it a day. Saad took him aside for a moment before the locker room: "Yo, Pen! Not bad for your first day with us. If you keep this up, you'll fit in well with the team." Dennis nodded, "Thanks, you're a good bunch." Saad was already changing, but Dennis had to take a dump first. When he finally arrived in the locker room, most of his colleagues had already disappeared and his team leader was packing his work clothes into the locker. "See you tomorrow, be on time!" Saad grumbled to him, then he was through the door. Two other colleagues were cleaning up in one of the other rows of lockers, but Dennis was now alone in his row.

He opened the locker and took out his large backpack with his street clothes. He placed them on the bench and hung the high-visibility jacket, which he had taken off barely an hour after the shift began and had not worn for the rest of the tour, in the locker. Then he bent down, pushed up the reflective-striped ends of his pant legs to unlace his work shoes. With a firm tug on the heel, he got rid of the left one and put it in the locker. But once he had the right shoe in his hand, he couldn't let it go: He straightened up again and brought the shoe very close to his nose, put it inside the shoe and inhaled the coarse smell of sweat in one deep breath.

"Oaahhh, just divine," thought the trainee and reached with his free hand into his crotch to knead his cock through the heavy fabric of the high-vis dungarees. His cock liked that, of course, and abruptly went from half-hard to fully alive again. After two more deep breaths he took the shoe off grinning dirty and looked at the bulge in his crotch. With the hard grip of his left hand, he stroked the smooth, rainproof polyester fabric of his high visibility pants up over his privates from below, getting horny at the sight. He moaned softly and after a few more intense strokes, felt a hot tingling sensation spread through his balls....

From the background, he heard locker doors slam and footsteps become audible. In a flash, Dennis let go and pretended to tidy his backpack. Two colleagues passed his line and headed for the exit. When the door had fallen into the lock, the trainee listened: nothing more to be heard, he seemed to be really alone now.

Once again, he took the shoe, inhaled the smell one last time and then kneaded his bulge until he felt that tingling again. This time he wasn't interrupted, and he didn't want to delay it: with his eyes closed and his teeth clenched, he worked his cock until the time finally came: with a low moan, he snorted the seed into his underpants and felt the warm sauce spread. He waited until the orgasm had subsided. Then he paused for a few more seconds, enjoying the wet feeling in his underpants before he set about removing the dungarees. Inside, they had become a little damp at the crotch. Satisfied, he stuffed the used pants into his backpack; he would have fun with them tonight. For tomorrow, he had a fresh set hanging in his locker. A little later, he logged out and drove home in his car.

A year ago, Dennis had moved out of his parents' house and finally had some peace and quiet. No one to bust his balls, no one he had to hide his clothes from or be accountable to. Two rooms, 46 sqm in a high-rise apartment building on the outskirts of the city. Not luxurious, but more than enough for a single guy who had no special demands on his place to stay. He kicked the apartment door shut, threw his backpack against the opposite wall, and slipped out of his worn sneakers. In the small kitchen, he popped a ready-to-eat pizza into the oven and then returned to the backpack, from which he pulled out the high-visibility pants. Examining them, he turned them back and forth a few times, then laid them on his comfortable couch. Humming softly to himself, he went back to the pizza.

After eating and downing a liter bottle of Coke, he sat down on the couch, a little tired. Dennis burped heartily and checked his cell phone: His buddy Marcel had written to him, and he answered him briefly. Then he turned on the TV, some early evening series that didn't interest him. He left it on anyway. He looked at the dungarees, especially the leg ends with the reflective stripes were his absolute favorites on the pants. Actually, the entire pants were cool to look at, he had to give the designer of this thing real credit. He had really shown taste, because the pants were provided with dark blue-gray contrasting areas in several places, which made them stand out from the usual pants of this segment. He preferred to wear them naked because they had a polyester lining that felt horny not only on the front of his cock, but also on the rest of his body. Especially when the fabric slipped down his crack in the back.

Dennis thought about whether he should put on his pants again and repeat his game from the locker room. But somehow, he had enough for today. Later, when he was sleeping, he could still jerk off to the new sexy team boss. He took the pants and went into his bedroom, which was dominated by a huge closet. He had measured exactly and bought two closets at a furniture store that fit exactly into this gap. So, he had more than enough storage space. On the left for his normal street clothes and on the right...

The trainee opened the doors of the right-hand cabinet and his eyes gleamed, because everything that made him horny was stowed here: hanging from the bar were several pairs of high-visibility dungarees in yellow and orange, high-visibility rain gear, heavy cut-protection gear for forestry workers. Beneath them, neatly lined up, were combat boots, safety shoes, rubber boots and several pairs of sneakers. Stacked above the bar was a collection of helmets and baseball caps. The latter went well with the rest of the clothes on the left: here were several tracksuits made of high-gloss nylon fabric, sauna suits, hoodies, low-slung skater jeans, and other things he needed as a follower of the Scally fetish. He had always had to keep these clothes a secret from his parents. But now he could live out his preferences completely carefree. Finally! Grinning with satisfaction, he took a hanger and hung the soaked pants on it before hanging them next to the closet. Dennis grabbed another bag of potato chips from the kitchen and then flattened himself back on the couch. After some zapping, he found something interesting and spent the rest of the day in front of the TV before going to sleep relatively early.