Fetish for nylon. The story continues back at the SeXStoRY

Following "The fish'n'chip shop" episode. Terry hurried to the the building site and arrived early. It was his second day on the job and he was eager make a good impression but even more eager to spend it with his new mate Vic. He had taken considerable time before leaving the flat combing his new haircut back into the quiff and D.A that Bill the Barber had given him, and now as he loitered outside the locked site hut he ran the comb again through the Brylcreemed grooves. The men began to arrive, the hut was unlocked, and the kettle went on for some morning tea. Most of the men were wearing donkey jackets with check shirts underneath, a few of the older boys had on old tattered looking suit jackets that had seen better days. Terry remained outside watching the street untill finally his wait was rewarded with the site of the red and white Vauxhall Cresta coming down the road. It bounced onto the building site in a cloud of dust and pulled up in it's usual spot beside the caravan. Terry had the urge to trot over and greet Vic but he thought it would be cooler to stay put. He watched as Vic got out of the car and lit up a cigarette, and then with it sticking from his mouth take the comb from his back pocket and run it through the slick grooves of the already perfect D.A. Then as he walked towards Terry, Vic did his usual trick of lobbing spit into the palm of his hand to extinguish the barely smoked cigarette before sliding it behind his ear. "Mornin' Tel. Lookin good man. Real fuckin good." he said with a grin as he looked at Terry's shining quiff. "Mornin Vic, all thanks to you...and Bill." he added. Vic gave him a wink and smacked him on the shoulder making a thwacking sound on his nylon MA1 jacket. Him and Vic were the only two in MA1s. In summer the donkey jackets would be hung in a row along the wall of the site hut and the men would work in shirt sleeves. Because of his love of nylon Vic always noticed who was wearing a nylon shirt, and he always thought it looked luxurious somehow to be wearing one on a building site. This notion had come from the idea that nylon shirts were for best. But now of course he wore them all the time, and he was pleased to see that Terry was wearing a white bri nylon shirt under his nylon MA1. "Did ya get me fuckin spunk outta yer shirt." he whispered hoarsely into Terry's ear. Terry grinned broadly and his cheeks began to redden. "Yep I washed it out last night it's on the clothes horse." he said. "Good boy." said Vic mocking him slightly. They were soon stuck into work, with Vic getting into the rhythm of his brick laying spurred on by the enthusiastic speed with which Terry was mixing up the cement. They worked through the morning break because Terry had mixed up so much there was a danger of it going off. "Fuck yer makin me fuckin work." said Vic. "How bout we knock off fer a bite to eat." "Sounds good." replied Terry. They went over to the caravan where Vic retrieved his flask and sandwiches from the car. Terry had an old army rucksack with his own almost identical check flask and lunch box inside, and he layed it down on the pile of cement blocks where they'd sat yesterday. "Nah come round ere." urged Vic. " I need a proper fuckin sit down." Terry followed him behind the old caravan in time to see Vic bend down to the wheel arch and retrieve a little silver key from on top of the tyre. He held it up with a triumphant grin and unlocked the door. "Bit more fuckin private in ere." he said as Terry climbed into the caravan. Terry could see the bulge in Vic's tight work trousers and instantly felt his own cock harden in his jeans. The caravan was from the 1950's and had been gutted inside to make one big room with a desk at the front end under the wrap around bay window and filing cabinets and cupboards up each side. Some of the original wall cupboards were still in place and the other end of the room was almost filled by a black vinyl three piece suite. It was in much better condition than the one in the site hut and as Terry looked at it Vic said: "Fuckin architects get all the fuckin comforts of 'ome, even got there own fuckin bog." he said gesturing through a narrow doorway of what looked like a cupboard. Terry peered into the little toilet area and saw a tiny yellow plastic shower and sink and a fully functioning purple toilet where he presumed there had once been a caravan porta potty. "I need a fuckin piss anyway." said Vic as he approached the toilet and pulled out his half hard cock. He lifted the plastic lid but left the seat down and began pissing all over it, not entirely on purpose, but due in part to the hardness of his cock. The other part was evidently due to his dislike of architects as he began to wave his cock from side to side . "Fuckin cunts." he muttered as the last spray of piss jerked up the wall. Terry's cock was aching now as it strained against his jeans and leaked into his nylon paisley underpants. Vic turned to him and smiled then knelt down in the toilet doorway and unzipped Terry's fly. His cock was barely through the opening before Vic had it in his mouth sucking it and working his tongue around the rim and pushing it hard into the piss slit. Terry felt like he was going to explode but he held back feeding Vic copious amounts of pre cum as Vic slurped and growled on the floor in front of him. He didn't want to come yet he wanted to suck Vic's cock. After all it was Vic who'd given him the head job yesterday. And then Bill the Barber. His fuckin prick'd never had so much attention he thought to himself. "Did you lock the door?" he asked urgently. "Yers, now fuckin fuck my fuckin gob cunt." Vic breathed onto the shiny wet cock head. Terry shoved his hips forward and lodged his hard prick in the back of Vic's throat, and as the throat contracted around the slimy head a gush of hot spunk erupted from the throbbing shaft. Vic swallowed hungrily, moaning and gasping as he shot his own load over his trousers and the Lino on the floor. He'd been rubbing his own cock shaft while he sucked away at Terry's. "I wanted to suck you." Terry said sounding disappointed. "Plenty o time fer that mate." "What now?" "Fuck no! Next time. We'd better get outta ere" They hurried out of the caravan after Terry had made an attempt to wipe up some of the mess they'd made. "Fuckin leave it. No cunt'll notice. They got a fuckin cleaner any road." said Vic with a sneer. They locked the door and Vic placed the key back on top of the wheel. Then they shared a quick cup of tea and a sandwich on the pile of concrete blocks next to Vic's car. Vic used his open hand to rub the spunk into his trousers, adding to the shine of the grubby brown polyester material. "I ain't so fuckin hungry anymore." he said with a wink, reaching for the comb in his back pocket and slicking the dishevelled Brylcreemed quiff back into place...