Backstage Carpenter's Woodworking Gangbang

I wiped the sawdust from my forehead with the back of my wrist, the faint grit catching on my damp skin as the theater lights hummed low overhead. At twenty-eight, I’d built sets in plenty of regional houses, but this one felt different—intimate, isolated, the rest of the crew long gone after strike call. The massive wooden throne platform still needed reinforcing beams, and I’d volunteered to stay late. I hadn’t expected company.

Dax was the first to reappear, his broad shoulders filling the backstage doorway. The head stagehand was thirty-six, all thick muscle earned from years of hauling scenery, his faded black tee stretched tight across his chest. Levi followed, the bearded props master with his thick chestnut beard and calm, watchful eyes, thirty-eight and built like a lumberjack who actually worked with lumber. Last came Jax, the lean, wiry lighting tech, thirty-four, tattooed forearms and a quiet smirk that always seemed to know more than he let on.

“Need extra hands, Sawyer?” Dax asked, voice low and rough like sandpaper over oak.

I felt their eyes immediately. My white tank top was dusty, clinging to the curve of my breasts and the flat plane of my stomach, the thin fabric almost translucent where sweat had soaked through. My short denim cutoffs rode high on my thighs, the frayed hems brushing the bottoms of my ass cheeks with every movement. Sawdust clung to my bare legs like a second skin. I didn’t mind. I liked the way they looked at me.

“Only if you boys can handle big wood,” I said, letting the double entendre hang in the air between us.

Levi chuckled, deep and warm. “We’ve been known to measure up.”

The banter flowed easily as we worked, but the air thickened with every passing minute. I caught Dax staring at the way my tits moved when I lifted a two-by-six. Levi’s gaze lingered on the sway of my ass when I bent to grab my tape measure. Jax watched my mouth every time I spoke. The isolated theater wrapped around us like a secret, the heavy black curtains muffling the world outside. My pulse beat harder between my legs with every loaded glance.

We hoisted the final support beam onto the workbench together. The thick oak felt solid under my palms. Dax moved in close behind me to help hold it level, his big body radiating heat. When his hips shifted forward, I felt the unmistakable ridge of his hardening cock press firmly against the cleft of my ass through our clothes.