All characters in this story are 18+

It was five minutes to five on a Saturday when I walked in, rushing, list in hand, because a list was the closest thing I had to somewhere to be. The place had that end-of-day feel to it, lights still on but everything mentally shut down, the air stale, shelves half-faced, like the whole building had been about to exhale before I walked in.

The list felt ridiculous. Weather stripping, wood glue, a specific set of galvanized bolts I’d convinced myself I needed but might not actually ever use.

The name on the badge said Jeremy. He only looked up once, enough for me to know he wished I’d fuck off. I got the impression he was just doing this until his big break in Hollywood showed up. Anyone with those kind of looks would have to end up on your television or get a drug habit trying.

I heard him counting coins, slow and methodical, each one clicking against the counter like it was eating into what little time I had left. He glanced up once, his mouth tightening slightly, not even trying to hide it.

“We’re closing in four minutes,” he said, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like judgment.

“I know. I’ll be real quick.”

The pressure settled in properly then. I had a dozen items and less than four minutes to find them. I walked past the superglue, stepped back, and crouched down. There were eleven different types, because of course there were.

I grabbed the nearest one and kept moving. I heard him come around the counter.

“Can I help you with something?”

His voice caught me off guard in a way I wasn’t expecting. I turned, already aware I’d only managed to find one thing and that he’d clocked it.

I held the list out. He took it, and his fingers brushed mine. For a second I felt it properly, rough, warm, and something faint there, clean sweat and metal, gone before I could place it properly.

His eyes landed on me for just an extra second. Then he turned and walked away from me.

He was in khaki shorts and a work shirt that had given up pretending to fit him properly. One of those blue ones, half open, darkened through with sweat, clinging in places and hanging loose in others.

When he moved I caught the line of his chest under it, thick with light hair, the fabric shifting just enough to show it before it settled again.

He hadn’t shaved in a few days. It should have made him look rougher than he already did, but it didn’t. It suited him. Made his mouth stand out more when he spoke.

And then he glanced up again, properly this time, and his eyes caught the light. Blue, not soft or pale, but deep enough that I locked on. It was like looking into water you don’t quite know the depth of.

He dropped his gaze back to the list like nothing had happened, while I stood there holding nothing, trying to remember what I’d come in for.

He stared at the list as he walked away. “What is it you’re building, exactly?”

The way he said it was flat. He even glanced at the door as he walked around into the next aisle.

“Oh, um… it’s not one thing. Just a few different jobs.”

He didn’t look convinced. His eyes moved down the page, slower now, like he was trying to make sense of it and failing.

“Right,” he said. “So we’ve got weather stripping… wood glue… galvanized bolts… tile spacers… two different types of screws that don’t match anything else on here…”

His eyes lifted from the list and settled on me.

“…and superglue. Is that in case the screws don’t fit?”

I shifted slightly under the weight of his stare.

“It’s just bits I need,” I said. “Things that came up, and I’ve found one.”

He let out a quiet breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, not quite irritation.

“So this isn’t a job,” he said, finally looking at me properly. “This is just your weekly collection of problems.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

“And you decided,” he went on, tapping the list once with his finger, “that five minutes before closing on a Saturday was the perfect time to start dealing with all of them.”

There it was.

I gave a small shrug, already knowing I had no defense that didn’t make it worse.

“When you say it like that…”

He held my gaze for a second, then one corner of his mouth shifted, just slightly.

“I’m just being an ass. It’s been a long day.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really clock the time.”

He picked up an item, returned to my aisle and handed me the list like it was starting to burn his fingers, then the small item he’d just found for me, before he walked off.

“That accent, Irish?” he asked, already halfway to the next aisle.

I watched him, unsure what was going on.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to win him over with something, anything. “Good guess.”

“Not really. Pretty strong accent. You’ve been here, what… a year or two?”

I huffed a little. “Four.”

He reached over the aisle and handed me a package. “There are three to choose from. You didn’t drive up in a car that justifies offering you the other two.”

I let out a short, surprised laugh before I could stop it. So not a wanna-be movie star, just a smartarse.

A few moments later he dropped out of sight, muttering something I didn’t catch. He sprang back up and passed me another package. Tile spacers. I took it and moved to the counter, grabbing a small basket on the way.

I headed down the next aisle where he’d crouched again, scanning the lower shelves. He turned and threw something toward me without warning.

A cable. Black, thick, wrapped tight in plastic and cardboard. It hit my hands with more weight than I expected. As I walked past him I noticed the other options still hanging there. He’d given me the cheapest one.

Then he grabbed a hose from the garden section. “How long?”

I stared at it, then back at him. “Not sure. Standard garden, I guess.”

He stepped in close enough that I felt it, the space narrowing without quite touching, and I caught it properly then, sweat, sun, cut wood and dust clinging to him. He pushed the hose into my chest.

“You still need half this list,” he said. “You’re not finding it on your own in three minutes.”

I exhaled. “Yeah, please.”

He held something out to me. I hesitated for half a second, then stepped closer and took it from his hand.

“Honestly,” I said, a bit too quick, not quite meeting his eyes, “I’ll just take whatever you give me.”

He froze for a moment, hand still mid-air, something in his expression shifting before he caught it. Then he turned, grinning again, but there was something different in it now, something that lingered.

“You sure about that?” he said.

I frowned slightly. “About what?”

He stepped in and squeezed past me, his ass brushing against my crotch on the way through. I moved back, even as he excused himself. But it had been intentional, I was sure of that. Again, the smell of him hit properly, sweat, warm skin, something faintly sharp like metal and sawdust, and it lingered after he walked away.

I opened my mouth to say something, to call him out on it, but as he bent over a few steps away from me, it hit me before I could even finish the thought.

My cock had gone hard.

I quickly swiveled away and adjusted myself, then scratched my head.

I’m not into guys.

I’m not.

He came past me with another item. “One more, but it’s out back. That one does have options.”

As he sped off, I turned to follow him as he moved around the counter and went through a wide doorway.

I hesitated for half a second, then followed him.

He jumped up on a ladder and reached up, there were boxes there that he rummaged through. He picked through two of them, then found what he wanted. He smiled, threw two items at me. They were so light they almost floated down.

The wall plugs were in slim, light packaging.

I grabbed them both, and thanked him.

He leaned back on the ladder, grinning, folding his arms like he’d achieved something and was taking a second to enjoy it.

“What?” I asked, taking a step closer.

He dropped down the two steps, still watching me, that grin not going anywhere.

“You… uh… you always get like that, or…?”

His eyes dipped down. All the way down.

I shifted back, realizing I was still hard, moving the packages he’d thrown in front of my shorts.

“Sorry, no. It’s just… erm… yeah… I probably…” I turned, ready to flee.

“It’s okay… honestly. I don’t mind. We’re… we’re alone here. Nobody else’s seen it.”

I stopped, turned and watched him. Adrenaline hit hard, my pulse loud in my ears, down into my feet. Something in my shorts wasn’t arguing.

He walked right up, stood within inches of my face.

I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. I felt his breath on my face. He swallowed too, I could see sweat beads on his forehead. Our eyes locked. Somehow watching him struggle made me feel a little better. He wasn’t as confident as I thought.

“I… I’ve… I mean… it’s been a long time with…” he could tell that I had no idea what I wanted to say.

He nodded, grinning again. “It’s been a while for me. And you… well, you look like… you know…” he shook his head. “...sorry. Bit nervous. But you…”

And then his hand reached out and lightly brushed my cock. I almost ran, but the way he brushed it, and the way his eyes watched me, made me pause. Instead of turning away from him, I turned to face him.

I couldn’t move. Or maybe I didn’t want to.

He faced me. “I’m not that experienced… but you’re cute… yeah… the accent… I like that.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you probably already know you are,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. I screwed my eyes shut for a second.

He laughed, and stepped in. “What would happen if I did this?”

I watched his lips move closer to mine, before they reached me, his hand pressed into my bulge.

When his hand turned, his palm cupping my cock, squeezing it, his lips were already on mine.

>I swallowed, still trying to catch up. I pulled my lips away and looked around quickly, checking for cameras.

“We’re alone, and no cameras here. Only outside,” he said, his other hand moving up to my shoulder to hold me in place. It was like he sensed I was still on the verge of flight. His grip on my shoulder steadied me more than anything I’d said or thought.

“That feel good?” he said, his breath on my lips. His eyes were intense, that deep blue just diving deep into me, making it practically impossible to function.

“I guess,” I said, leaving my hands hanging by my sides.

Both his hands came together. I felt him fumbling with my button, then my zipper. He undid me, his hands cupping me through the fabric as my shorts dropped to the floor with a thud. I hoped my phone had survived that fall as I swallowed.

I noticed the scar above one eyebrow raise up when his eyebrow did, while he studied me.

“Are you married? Partnered?” he asked me, as one hand pulled my boxer shorts away from me and the other dove in.

His hand was warm as it slid around my shaft. I closed my eyes and sucked in breath.

“Um… no. Single. And you?”

He smiled, then spoke while nodding. “Recently single. She wasn’t worth it.”

I smiled. “Many of them aren’t.”

“You seem worth it though,” he said, then grinned.

I laughed. He leaned in again and this time I let him kiss me.

His lips were warm, I felt the jolt of his touch all the way down my body and in my chest. Especially when his hand gripped me and slowly jerked me.

I sucked in breath.

“Good, huh?”

I nodded.

“Don’t mind if you touch mine too,” he said, dipping his eyes down for a moment, before turning back to me and kissing me.

I was curious what his was like, so I reached out and touched it. His shorts really were too tight. I was able to tell it was quite thick, and a decent size. Both hands reached out as his tongue gently pushed into my mouth and met with mine.

The kiss was slow at first, then not as I unbuttoned, unzipped him and explored what was under those shorts.

It throbbed in my hand. And it was hot to the touch.

I felt myself being walked backward, then the shelves pushed into my back. The cold steel pressing into my butt as Jeremy pushed his body into me.

The kissing deepened, his body pressing into mine, his cock pushing against me, the friction blurring the line between us.

>I hadn’t kissed a guy before. The scrape of his stubble against my face threw me for a second.

>He dropped to his knees, looking up at me once. Made my back tighten before I could stop it.

>I watched him grip my shaft, study it, then look back up at me as his tongue ran over the head.

I threw my head back and hit the shelving. I heard him laugh. I was too embarrassed to laugh, so I just looked down.

I held my breath as his mouth opened and took me in, slow at first, then deeper. I sucked in breath, grabbed the shelf on either side of me to steady myself. The heat of his mouth hit hard, almost too much.

“Jesus!” I whispered, as if anyone was around to hear us.

He sucked me as I stood. I tried to regulate my breath, but his mouth swallowed all of it. I couldn’t hold onto a single thought.

Jeremy’s hands moved behind me, gripping my ass, then down my legs, dragging through the hair there.

Jeremy sucked me, bringing me close, then easing off before I tipped, like he knew exactly where I was. His mouth left me just long enough to keep me there before taking me back in again.
He stood suddenly, wiping his mouth, a wide grin already there.

“Gonna try mine?”

I stared for a moment. “Never actually done it.”

“Just… whatever feels right,” he said, quieter than before.

I wanted to laugh. I wasn’t even sure I could do it.

As if to give me encouragement, he leaned in and kissed me, then stood back, with that ever-present grin.

I looked around, though I’m not sure why as I knew we were alone.

I crouched, looking at it properly. It was cut. I hadn’t expected that. And it was thicker than mine.

I closed my eyes and put it in my mouth. His hands reached behind my head and he gently, but forcefully pulled me onto his cock. I began to laugh, which made my mouth widen and then his cock slipped all the way in.

I spat it out and leaned against the shelving unit and stared up.

He grinned. “Sorry, just being an ass!”

I nodded. “Doing a great job!”

But I took it in my hand and gave it another shot. This time, he didn’t pressure me. I took it slow and let the thickness of it slide along my tongue. It didn’t feel as weird as I thought. In fact I liked the softness of his skin and the firmness of his cock as it slid into my throat.

I tried to suck it as he had done mine, slowly using my hand to tighten around the shaft while he helped build momentum and fuck my mouth.

“Oh, man that’s good!” he said, his hands tightening at my head.

I kept going.

“You’ll make me nut!”

I spat it out and shot up, almost losing my balance.

He reached around me and put his hands behind my head, then kissed me while he began to jerk off.

We kissed, while we jerked ourselves off. I kept looking down and watching how both of us tugged. Then his tongue would lick my lips and we would kiss again.

>He kissed like he meant it.

“We gonna shoot here?” I asked him, realizing I was really close.

“U-huh,” he said, his face reddening and his jaw tightening.

I loved the smell of him as my load began to build. Seconds later, I gripped him with one arm while I jerked and watched as he erupted.

His shot up across the back room, even onto the shelves. Thick streaks of cum splashed onto the metal shelves, then dripped.

Mine didn’t squirt as much, but still hit his leg, and across the concrete floor.

“Fuck!” he said, huffing as the last of his dripped onto the floor.

I threw my head back as I finished, exhaling and releasing. I felt all the weight of me suddenly hit and I wanted to sit down.

He laughed. “You know how long I’ve fantasized having someone come out the back here while I’ve been working?”

I felt myself grin. “A long time, I bet.”

He nodded, his grin widening. “That was hot. You come in this late again, I won’t complain.”

We both laughed.

“Thanks, I might. I haven’t done much with guys, have you?”

He nodded, then shook his head. “Well, it’s been a long time, but yeah, I did a few years back. Out of a relationship so feeling some experimentation coming on.”

I nodded as I pulled my shorts up, watching him do the same. It wasn’t even awkward. I had expected that post-nut weirdness, but it didn’t come.

He adjusted himself, then looked around at the mess. “Suppose I better clean that up before I get out of here.”

“Let me help you. It’s half my mess, after all,” I said.

He turned to me. “You’re really hot. I’d be happy if you hung around and talked to me a bit while I cleaned up.”

When he leaned in and put his lips to mine, I didn’t even flinch.

“What’s your name?” he asked me.

“Sean,” I said. “Assume you’re Jeremy.”

He turned and stared, then shook his head. “Nope, that’s my colleague. I’m Ash.”

“Oh. I just assumed…” I began.

He waved it away, then walked off to get some cleaning products.

We chatted for a few minutes as he cleaned up. I tried to help, but the man formerly known as Jeremy shook his head and cleaned up. It didn’t take him long.

“So, what’s your plans tonight? Lots of home renovations?” Ash asked me.

I smiled. “You’re a cheeky one, aren’t ya?”

Ash cleaned up, then led us out to the front and to the counter.

I moved around the counter, and got my wallet out and watched Ash ring up my items.

“So, got much on tonight?”

I stared and wondered why he’d asked me again.

“No, not really. I just moved here from Texas. New job, new house, gotta make new friends. Probably will do some renovations. What about you?”

He totaled the items, and took my card. “No plans. I was wondering if you want to get a beer later. Maybe even explore some more.”

My heart kicked. We’d barely known each other thirty minutes. I felt the request and I nodded.

“Yeah, fuck it. Why not?”

I paid, walked out, and sat in my car for a minute with the engine off.

I wasn’t into guys.

I stared at my phone.

Then I texted him.

Want more? Early release of over 250 stories on my Substack. Thanks for reading. Fox
(Edit - added 18+ disclaimer).

All Characters are 18+
The Foreman

The heat had been building since seven. By ten the sixth floor smelled of wet concrete and the sound of someone cutting rebar two levels below.

I took the stairs because the elevator was dead again.

Six flights through a raw concrete shell with temporary lighting hanging crooked from extension cables. By the third-floor landing my shirt was sticking between my shoulder blades.

I arrived, slightly out of breath to find Vance stood over the blueprints with two bricks pinning the corners against the breeze coming through the open side of the building.

He looked the way he always did, dark blond hair shoved back badly with one hand at some point that morning, shorter at the sides, messy on top again already. A few days without shaving had left rough blond shadows along his jaw and around his mouth that somehow suited him in the heat, making him look rougher, more solid.

I’d worked with him for months through site visits, delays, safety meetings and coffee from paper cups strong enough to strip paint. None of this was new.

So I couldn’t explain why, standing there sweating through my shirt while his radio crackled against his shoulder, I suddenly noticed the shape of his mouth when he concentrated. Or the slight tilt at the end of his nose like it had been broken years ago and never properly fixed.

Or why watching him drag his thumb absently across his bottom lip, clearing away concrete dust, made something shift low in my stomach hard enough to unsettle me.

Worn work boots. Navy site trousers hanging low on his hips. Black t-shirt darkened with sweat beneath an open hi-vis vest, dust caught in the dark hair along his forearms and the old scars across his hands.

He barely looked up when I walked over.

“Hey, Glenn,” he said, the words coming rough, like he hadn’t used his voice much yet that morning.

“Hey, Vance. How’s it going? Winning? Making lots of friends?”

That got a faint smile out of him, gone almost immediately.

I leaned across the plans to grab the pen and my hand landed over his by accident. His hand flexed once beneath mine and something low in my stomach tightened hard enough to knock the breath out of me. I felt him pause too, just for a second, the air between us suddenly charged in a way I couldn’t explain.

But neither of us pulled away.

Somewhere below us rebar screamed against a cutting wheel while wind moved through the unfinished frame of the building, radios crackling every few seconds from different floors, but at the table it felt like everything had stalled around the simple fact of his hand beneath mine.

Vance cleared his throat once and looked back down at the plans, though his attention didn’t seem fully on them anymore.

“Contractors on the west side have gone off spec again,” he said slowly, like he was forcing the words out in the right order. “Steel placement’s out by at least…”

He stopped.

For the first time since I’d known him, Vance looked uncertain.

It wasn’t Vance being uncharacteristically nervous, it was more like he was confused. His eyes flicked downward briefly before returning to mine and a knot tightened in my chest.

I followed the movement without thinking.

The outline beneath his site trousers was impossible to miss now. A bulge that moments earlier wasn’t even noticeable. For a second my brain tried explaining it away. Heat, bad angle perhaps, or just the fabric bunching.

That was not it. There was nothing ambiguous about it.

The realisation hit me so fast I nearly stepped back from the table.

Vance had a hard-on.

My pulse kicked once, heavy enough that I suddenly became aware of my own body, the pressure trapped uncomfortably behind my fly after weeks of stress, heat and absolutely nothing remotely like this ever happening before.

Fuck.

I shifted instinctively, subtle enough that I thought I’d hidden it, angling away from him and pulling the jeans material away from my trapped boner, but Vance’s eyes dropped immediately.

Straight to my crotch.

The radio clipped to his shoulder crackled again with somebody asking about concrete delivery on level three.

Vance adjusted himself once through the fabric of his trousers, turning slightly, like I had done, trying to hide it, then turning to throw me a look that said he regretted even needing to do it.

His eyes went from my eyes down to my bulge, then back up again.

He swallowed. I could almost hear it.

We stood there staring at each other across the blueprints while the entire building carried on around us, both of us trying to understand the same impossible thing at the same time.

Vance opened his mouth like he was about to continue talking about the plans, but nothing came out.

His jaw worked once. The tip of his tongue dragged briefly across his dry lower lip before disappearing again.

Then he turned away abruptly, one hand bracing against the edge of the table.

The movement pulled the fabric of his t-shirt tight across his back and for the first time I noticed the shape of him properly beneath the site clothes, the hard line of muscle through his waist and ass from years of hauling materials up unfinished staircases.

Jesus Christ.

He turned back toward me too quickly and caught me looking.

The longer we went without speaking, the more awkward it became.

His eyes dropped again before he could stop them, straight to the front of my jeans this time, and I felt heat climb hard into my face.

I cleared my throat.

“Vance…”

But he looked wrecked suddenly. Sweat running from his temples now despite the breeze moving through the floor, chest rising deeper beneath the darkened t-shirt. 

“Glenn, I…” He stopped and dragged a hand over the back of his neck. “Fuck, man. I don’t know what…”

I stepped closer before my brain caught up with me, following some kind of instinct that I rarely listened to.

I honestly don’t think I meant to touch him.

Maybe I only meant to shove him jokingly, maybe break the tension somehow, make this normal again.

But my hand closed over him through the fabric of his trousers instead.

Vance jerked sideways sharply, swearing under his breath, but not before I felt the full hard thickness of his cock in my hand.

The shock of it went through both of us. I yanked my hand back like it had been burned.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, breathing hard now. “This fucking heat’s making us crazy.”

My mouth had gone completely dry.

I stepped back immediately, pulse hammering, every instinct in my body suddenly screaming at me to move before I did something worse.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Yeah…I need water or something.”

Then I turned and headed fast toward the portable site bathrooms before he could see how badly my hands were shaking.

Inside the portable unit the air was surprisingly cooler, though trapped and stale beneath the plastic roof. I planted both hands against the wall above the urinal and tried breathing through whatever the hell had just happened.

This was insane.

It was also stupid dangerous and made no sense.

I unzipped mechanically, more to relieve pressure than anything else, staring at the scratched plastic wall in front of me while my heartbeat refused to settle, letting my cock lean out, no longer constrained. I figured once I regained composure, I’d pee and get on with my day. Maybe even laugh it off later.

Then the door opened behind me.

Heavy boots stepped onto the floor beside mine.

I looked sideways.

Dropping my pants feels pointless when I barely wear pants anyway, so instead I’ve dropped subscription prices.

Real talk: I’m struggling right now. The last year has absolutely kicked my ass financially, and while I hate doing the whole “please subscribe” thing, I also like eating and paying bills.

On top of the price drop, yearly subscriptions are 10% off for the next 48 hours only.

Also, locking the rest of the Vance bathroom scene behind the paywall might be the most evil thing I’ve done this month, but hey, even villains have rent to pay.

Share my stories with someone. A subscription to my stories is basically the modern version of buying someone a drink and seeing where it goes. 

Some people say that right after they subscribed to Fox Emerson, Pedro Pascal crawled into bed with them, slightly sweaty, completely naked. He’d just come off a set and hadn’t nutted in like, weeks.

Allegedly. I believe everything people say on the internet.

Vance stood there staring straight ahead, jaw tight, already reaching for his zipper.

Not only were my knees shaking, but the zipper in my jeans shook from the way my hands did. I steadied them, staring ahead.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw him look over, then quickly look ahead, then down at his own.

When I looked down, I realized my cock was rock-hard, pushing out. There was nowhere to hide. Even while my brain screamed for me to do something, my legs simply wouldn’t budge.

Slow movement to my left, and my eyes went there. 

Vance’s cock, just as hard as mine leaning out of the zipper, catching some fresh air. The tip was wet. A tiny bit dripped off the tip and down to the urinal.

I swallowed, the sound almost echoing in that small space.

Beyond the temporary bathroom the entire floor was quiet, though beyond that, on other floors, we could hear everything.

Vance’s eyes darted my way again, staring at my cock. This time I looked across, then up and our eyes locked for a second, before shifting forward, as if none of it happened.

Then Vance’s hand moved slightly, jerking off really slowly, pulling his underpants down just a bit so his balls hung out. They were bushy, the fine blond hairs matching the trail disappearing beneath his navel. I watched his hand slowly move from the balls to the tip, then back again, while another drip fell down to the urinal trough.

My hand moved too without orders, slowly giving me relief.

Vance turned to me, no longer pretending now. Or having resigned to his body’s decision, like a prisoner being dragged along. I noticed the way he closed them, then exhaled, and then studied my cock. 

I turned to him, locking my knees in case they finally gave in and buckled. He turned to me, both facing each other, our cocks out like we were comparing them. Then, his hand moved across slowly. His fingers touched the tip, the wet bit there that had just started leaking, and then his fingers closed around the head, and moved to the shaft, and I closed my eyes and gasped.

His hands were ridiculously warm, hot even, gently but firmly squeezing around my shaft like they knew what they were doing.

I half-stepped forward, reached out and reciprocated, touching the tip, and using that as lube to slide my hand down, along his shaft, going straight to feel those hairy balls, and cup them. I heard him inhale louder this time, then his face turned to me, those blue eyes staring, searching for answers I knew he wouldn’t find in mine.

When Vance stepped closer, I wasn’t surprised, moving so the tips of our cocks touched. His precum on my precum, his hand opening to grab both our cocks, slowly jerking us both, inhaling as though this is what we had needed all along.

A flicker crossed his lips, pleasure maybe, or something softer. His eyes told me everything, watching me, then studying the shape of me, just as fit as him, then back to my cock, a longing in his eyes that I did understand, but appeared misplaced on Vance.

Still, misplaced or not, he bent then so he could study my cock, turning once to the door as if realizing we could be caught, but we both could hear the workers on other floors. Vance exhaled as he studied my cock, jerked it slightly, watching more precum drip. I could feel it throb in his hand, begging him to get even closer.

And then he did.

I knew Vance well enough to know he was as surprised as I was when his mouth opened, and he licked the tip of my cock.

I threw my head back, the heat of his lips, and his breath, sending pulses all over my body. I sucked in breath, stopping my hands from reaching around his head and forcing him to just take it all in.

He jerked me off slowly, licking the tip, watching it with an intensity that made my stomach tighten again, his mouth opening slightly more, and his tongue exploring the head of it.

I wanted to beg him to suck it, to go further. To push myself forward.

I slowly moved my hips forward, forcing my cock into his mouth.

Vance didn’t step back, or recoil. He closed his eyes, held his breath and let it slide in.

When his mouth closed, tightened around my cock, I felt it throb, probably flooding his mouth with my precum. The heat of his mouth, the way his tongue explored under my shaft, licked around the head, and the way it tightened. Nothing about the way he used his mouth felt uncertain.

My hands finally reached out behind his head, gently behind that tousled blonde mass and pulled him all the way in.

He gagged briefly, but recovered quickly, the sound echoing in the small bathroom around us while his eyes opened, looking up at me, watching me as my cock pushed past his tonsils.

Hot hands surrounded my balls, while his hot mouth swallowed me to the base, his nose buried into my bush, holding it there while I grabbed the back of his head like I didn’t know if I needed to pull him off or push him further.

While Vance sucked me, I kept an eye on the door, and sounds beyond it, occasionally closing my eyes from the intensity of it, and reopening them to watch him devour all of it. Every time I got close, he seemed to sense it, then slow down, licking the tip, stroking my shaft down to my balls, and slowly bringing his mouth back and swallowing it all over again.

My hands grabbed his ears and pulled him deep, then pushed him out, then the back of his head, forcing his throat to take that extra bit, before hearing him struggle and move off it.

I was too close, I quickly pushed the sides of his face together and pulled up. He came up, misreading my intention, leaning forward to kiss me. I was too stunned to stop him, and about to yank back away from him, but then his lips opened and his tongue slipped straight into my mouth, and my cock throbbed.

Vance was extremely handsome, and somewhat of a mystery to me. To see this side of him was both confronting and a shock. I let him kiss me, then returned the kiss, suddenly hungry for more. 

We made out, by that urinal, our cocks twisting together.

Even that made me close, so I pulled away with an awkward grin. Vance smiled and I knew he realized. I dropped to my knees, wondering if after all these years, I could do it again.

I could.

Not that Vance gave me much choice. No sooner was I on my knees than Vance’s hands behind my head pushed me to his cock. I opened my mouth, and slowly sucked on the head of it, tasting his precum, surprised by the bitterness and sweetness of it, before reaching behind him, gripping his rock-hard buns and swallowing his cock to the base.

He gasped, held me there, held his breath and then bent over, as if unsure if he could handle the intensity of it. I released slightly, but kept my mouth wrapped around it, sucking it from tip to base repeatedly, while my hands slowly jerked him, occasionally following my dripping saliva to his balls and wetting them with it.

“Oh… God!” The sound barely sounded like him.

I slowed down, but then he added, “don’t stop! Please!” So I continued sucking him, enjoying the sweaty saltiness of it as he began to fuck my mouth and my throat.

His pants dropped all the way to his ankles from the momentum, exposing his hairy legs, solid legs that my hands began to stroke and explore, while his thrusts into my mouth got faster and rougher.

“Yeah… keep going!”

I knew he was close, so my hands went down to mine, knowing it wouldn’t take long. In fact, the second Vance began to slow his thrusting down, and I could feel it throb in my mouth, I felt myself let go.

Vance fucked my throat a little longer, just as I began to blow my load. 

I could taste his suddenly flooding my mouth, some of it shooting directly down my throat, some of it spilling straight back out onto the floor.

He kept thrusting into my mouth, but slower this time, as if trying to get every last drop out. 

I kept myself there and let him finish, even as I finished myself, feeling my cock finally soften and begin to relax.

Vance’s cock slipped out, and he threw his head back, a half-laugh escaped him, and what sounded like a big exhale.

“Jesus!” He said.

I laughed, leaning back and looking down, realizing his work boots were covered in my cum. He looked down, noticed it and laughed again. “Oh, shit.”

I stood then, watching him, not feeling any of the awkwardness I thought I would, though I was spent, and needed to sit down somewhere, maybe even get a coffee.

Vance hit the sink, grabbing paper and cleaning both his cock and his boots, grinning the whole time.

I waited for the sink, hands on my hips, watching Vance as he finished cleaning up.

He turned to me then, smiling. “I could do with a coffee,” he stepped back, letting me access the sink and the paper dispenser, “want to go to the place we went to the other day? Sit down and enjoy some air conditioning?”

I nodded, rinsed my cock, then grabbed some paper and dried it.

“Sure, could do with sitting down after that, and a coffee.”

As Vance stood behind me, his cock out, drying it, and I had mine in the sink, the bathroom door flew open.

Want more? There's a lot of exclusive content on my Substack.
Edit - Added clarification all characters are 18+

There's a part 1 here.

Finally, some good news. They say bad experiences are supposed to lead to better ones, but I’m not there yet.

A few weeks ago, something happened that I haven’t been able to shake. I feel off, distant from everyone. I go to college, come home, study, sleep. That’s it. I don’t see anyone unless I have to, and even then I’m too in my head.

Late last week, I reached out to a therapist online. Cheap, anonymous, with the option of audio only. I gave him a fake name, and he pretended he didn’t notice.

He didn’t say much, which I guess is the point. He just listened, which is what I assume therapists do, then told me to write it down. Said it might help to get it out of my head and somewhere else.

I didn’t think I’d actually do it, but then late one night, I finally did. And interestingly enough, it was as cathartic as advertised.

I ended up back on a site I used to scroll through all the time, Smuttstack. Hot stories, fantasies, all of it. I hadn’t opened it in months, not since before everything happened. Didn’t think I’d be posting on it, especially not this.

I still don’t really know why I chose that site. Maybe because no one knows me there. Maybe because if I delete it, it’s gone, like it never happened.

Or maybe because part of me still can’t tell if it was something I wanted, or something I just let happen.

Either way, I’ve written it down.

The memory of it keeps me up at night. It also makes me really hard. Since I’ve only recently discovered I like guys, especially older ones, and having their cocks inside me, that experience made all the others feel like training wheels.

I’ve got a new job now, in a bookstore. I love it, better pay, better hours, and I can chew someone’s ear off about my favorite books. The owner’s away, trusted me with the keys to the kingdom after working with me for just five weeks.

I sat back one afternoon, deep into chapter nineteen, wondering if the construction worker would finally rail his buddy on site, while hoping nobody came in and interrupted me.

Someone always came in right before closing. And if chapter nineteen went the way I expected, I wanted to close the doors at exactly 5:01pm and jerk off.

More notifications on my phone. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Never thought my story would be appreciated by so many, never even considered how many offers I’d get from too many guys, older ones, some of them with body pics that I may have jerked off to a couple of times.

I put my book down and checked my phone. Yet another message through Smuttstack, fortyfive, hairy, fit, muscular and faceless, claiming to be the guy in my story. I’d had six of those already.

I rolled my eyes, then quickly copied and pasted the same question I asked of all the others who’d claimed the same. He may not be the guy, but he sounded good enough to be the sequel.

As I salivated my way through chapter nineteen, realizing my hopes and dreams for where this would go was finally happening, I got another message.

I dropped the book.

Fuck.

It was him.

I read his message again, checked out his profile with greater scrutiny. Brand new profile. Just created that morning. No pics, just some basic info and a name that would normally have me rolling my eyes hard.

DiscreteAF.

I read his reply for the third time. “Other than cigarettes, lighters, papers, your pants. That’s what dropped to the floor. Really sorry you lost your job. My fault, but happy you found another one.”

I smiled, and quickly tapped out a reply. I never, ever give out my number. Not to anyone. But I sent him mine, and let him know that I’d love to chat.

All I could do was sit back, drool over chapter nineteen, feel my bulge pushing against the unjust pants and wait.

I didn’t have to wait long.

When a new message appeared on my phone, I knew immediately it was him.

“Hey Bradley. It’s Dave. The guy from the gas station.”

“Hey Dave, nice to hear from you. How did you find that site? And my story?”

“Searched online, it’s the most popular. And apparently, so was your account of what happened. It’s trending on the front page.”

I closed my eyes, felt my shoulders shake as I shook my head and grinned.

“Yeah, wasn’t expecting that. But the story was worth telling.”

Dave responded immediately. “Agreed. Was wondering if I’d find you again. Been driving through a few gas stations lately.”

The book now forgotten, I leaned back and made myself comfortable. “Oh yeah? Find anyone else to rail behind the counter?”

“Unfortunately not, they all play hard to get, making me pay for gas, not reading anything interesting. I read the book by the way, the one you recommended.”

We talked about the book for a while, and I was happy to hear he enjoyed it as much as I did.

“So, you got another job. Mind if I ask where you’re working now? Just in case I happen to drive past, around 2 am.”

Smiling, I responded, “in a bookstore, central area. Closes at 5:30 unfortunately.”

His response made my dick hard. “Even better. Books falling all around us would feel more poetic.”

I looked around me, then stood. It was nearly closing time, and I already knew for sure there were no cameras in the store. Out back, shelves and shelves filled with books I’d usually be excited to open, but right now they were just obstacles. I walked past them and saw the storage area differently.

An armchair, a sink, a bathroom, some motivational posters that suddenly felt very optimistic, and soft lighting that definitely wasn’t helping.

I texted him back. “Mmmm. As long as the only hardback in the room is yours.”

I stared at his messages for a long time, then his profile, then his messages again. The armchair was quiet, the store was quiet, everything was quiet except my own head, which was doing what it always did and asking questions I didn't have answers to. Whether this was smart. Whether that night at the gas station was something I'd wanted or something that had just happened to me, and whether I even knew the difference yet.

I typed the address before I'd finished considering it.

I paced the back, then the front of the bookstore, then the back again. When it hit closing time, I turned the sign to closed, switched the lights off out front, and went to sit in the armchair out back.

His response was too quick. “Any time.”

I put my phone face down, picked up the book, and lasted approximately four pages before I put it back down. I got up, checked the front door was locked, checked it again, then went and sat back in the armchair. The soda went warm on the table beside me. I'd forgotten it was there.

Not one word registered when I picked up the book again.

After minutes staring at the same page, I put the book down and messaged him back.

“Come here, if you’re free. Boss is away, no cameras this time. Sitting out back with a book.”

His response made me laugh. “Naked?”

I gave Dave the bookstore’s address, told him to park out back, and to knock on the rear door.

Thirty-three minutes and forty seconds later, a knock at the back door interrupted the middle of chapter twenty. Just as well, the action wasn’t getting there as fast I’d wanted anyway.

My heart raced, I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until I unlatched the back door and opened it.

That grin.

Those almost honey-coloured eyes locked onto me straight away. Strong jaw, salt and pepper hair that was starting to thin a little at the front.

The light behind him caught the edges of him and made him appear sharper than I remembered.

I forgot how big he was.

My voice got caught in my throat, but I stepped back, mumbling something that might have been hello, or come in and rape me.

Dave stepped forward, not once taking his eyes off me, even reaching behind himself to close the door, which slammed, while his eyes burned into me.

I finally exhaled, watching him, tongue rooted at the bottom of my mouth and refusing to move.

“Nice to see you again, Bradley,” he said, stepping forward, the grin leading the way.

Instead of moving back, I braced myself and stood in place. “Hi Dave, good to see you…”

Dave didn’t need that. He closed the gap between us, his hands grabbing me from the sides and his mouth moved to mine. His lips were full, but surrounded by stubble, which gently scratched me but also got me leaking.

I opened up to his kiss, surprised by it, but let his tongue push through my teeth and search for mine anyway. He was taller than me, and much more solid, muscle, a slight stomach and hairy in all the right places.

When I felt his bulge push into mine, I reached around and grabbed his butt, like holding solid steel. I felt him steer me backward, kissing in a way that sucked the breath right out of me, his body beginning to envelope me, and his hands stroked and touched parts of me that I couldn’t reach.

The back of the armchair hit my legs, then I sat down, with Dave bending over to continue kissing me, a flat, warm soda on one side, thousands of books on the other.

Dave paused, kneeling in front of me, then looked up and around. “You sure?”

It took me a second. “Yep, positive.”

He stood, kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, and untucked his shirt, still watching me, lips slightly parted, almost a smile, but much more in the way he stared.

I leaned forward, quickly pulling at my own clothes and discarding them somewhere behind me.

Dave’s cock was there, just like last time. The foreskin overhanging on that big, thick, meaty shaft that I realized was bent slightly to his left. I leaned forward, gripping it, studying it for an extra moment before opening my mouth and licking the foreskin.

He moaned. I pushed the foreskin back, the sweet and bitter musk was faint on my tongue, but I was too impatient. Too many weeks hoping for this moment. Too many days jerking off wondering if I’d get to taste under it again.

Dave’s fingers were gentle but insistent on the back of my head, drawing circles on my scalp, stroking my head while I sucked all of his cock and let the foreskin open fully as the head of it reached my tonsils.

He held me there for a moment, and I gagged on it, half-coughing, but I didn’t let it go. I wanted to feel the thickness and the heat of it on my tongue, over and over, tasting the precum as it moved around my mouth.

As if sensing this, Dave began to fuck my mouth. I held my breath, and gripped his solid body and let him ram my throat.

When Dave began ramming my throat, holding my head in place, I suddenly understood what skull fucking meant as my eyes teared.

It was rough, but not over the top. Dave crouched, leaning forward over the armchair naked, pounding my throat. The back of my head hit the back of the armchair when Dave really moved, his balls smacking my chin with a loud slap each time.

It never struck me as intense until it got a bit much. But that’s when Dave stopped, as if sensing it. He dropped, leaning into the armchair and kissing me, like he was soothing me.

“That okay?” he said, tilting his head and studying me.

I nodded. “Yeah, was pretty hot.”

Then Dave picked me up like I weighed nothing, gently but quickly turning me and placing me down, moving my legs until I ended on my knees on the armchair facing away from him.

His arms though, so strong, touching me everywhere, like this was how he did romance. Gently squeezing my nipples, stroking my chest, my stomach, grabbing my balls, then giving my cock a firm squeeze, while behind me his body pressed in, close, no space, his chest against my back, his hips tucked in tight under me, his cock pushing forward along my inner thigh, thick and hot against my skin.

I felt completely swarmed by him, like he was wrapped around me, covering me, his weight and heat everywhere at once. He kissed my neck and it sent shivers straight down my back. When he pushed his tongue into my ear and exhaled, goosebumps broke out across my body and I sucked in breath and held it, my whole body tensing for a moment.

He shifted slightly, still pressed into me, I heard him spit into his hand, then he adjusted, his hips tight against me again, his cock pushing exactly where I wanted it.

I braced myself, but Dave was already back on me, his body closing in again, his arms coming around my front, pulling me into him as he angled his pelvis and pushed forward.

I gasped as the head pushed in, but he held me there. “Shhhh,” he said, in a voice that didn’t match his physical strength. “It’s okay…”

It was. I knew it was. I just needed to breathe into it.

“You’re new to bottoming, aren’t you?” he asked, kissing the side of my face, his mouth moving over my neck, my jaw, my cheek, his hands still moving across my chest and stomach.

“Yeah,” I half-whispered, so dreamy, like I was hypnotized.

“You’re hot. Just relax. Just relax…”

I did. And I think his voice helped. Even as I felt him slide further in, I relaxed into it, wanting all of it.

I remembered how he’d fucked me last time, so I tensed, bracing myself as he pushed deeper, but he moved through it steadily.

I gasped, held my breath, gritted my teeth. It was the way he stayed close, his mouth on my neck, his breath hot against my skin while he reached deeper.

I felt him shift again, then kneel up on the armchair behind me, still tight against me, still holding me, almost spooning me from behind, keeping me in place.

He fucked me gently at first, but deep, one hand on my chest, the other moving between my legs, then squeezing my nipples, which I’d never experienced, before he slowly began to thrust faster and deeper.

My head dropped forward and I bit into the soft green cloth of the armchair as his body stayed pressed into mine, his mouth at the back of my neck, biting softly, then licking, then sucking, not letting up, not giving me space, his whole body wrapped around me.

Then he said the most odd thing.

“I like you. Been thinking about you.”

Just like that.

It was said in the precise moment where I felt like he was so deep inside me, and his skin was pressed into mine, that it felt like we were one.

Suddenly, I was too close. And yet, somehow he knew because he halted, pulled out, and lifted me again. I was turned around while Dave sat on the armchair, his eyes on fire, greedy for more while he sat me on his lap, legs splayed on either side of him.

His cock slid straight back in, but this time, it was easy.

We kissed as I sat on his cock, his strong arms lifting me up and down onto his cock, holding me down so it went deep, then lifting me until it almost slipped out. Each time, my breath would catch, and we’d breathe into each other’s mouths.

I bounced on Dave’s cock, faster and harder each time, while we kissed, and I felt the hairs on his chest slip through my fingers. I had a yearning to lick his chest, but couldn’t.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, his eyes glazing over, then closing.

I was close again, and tried to refocus my thoughts to stop it.

But it was too late.

“Dave…” I began.

His hands moved down, grabbed my waist and he thrust up, pulling me down.

He grunted. “Argh!” Loud, guttural and incredibly masculine.

Deep inside me, I felt his hot jizz flood me.

I think I shouted, or grunted too, when his cock rammed my prostate. I shot my load as I felt his inside me.

I looked down, and got a huge squirt of my own cum in my face. I turned my head but watched as streams of it went sideways, across the bookshelves, all across the soft, worn carpet. A lot of it over Dave.

He kept fucking me, even after I knew he’d finished.

Exhausted, like we’d both just run an impromptu marathon, I melted into him on the chair, my face falling into his sweaty neck, my sweaty chest pressing into his, both of our heartbeats loud enough to hear.

For what felt like an hour, I stayed on him, long after our breath returned to normal, and our skin dried.

I don’t know if I fell asleep, or was just in a trance, but I snapped to when Dave’s lips grazed my neck, licking me, small tender kisses.

I kissed his neck too, tasting the dried salt there, smelling him.

I sat back, and looked at Dave. That half-grin was there, but he looked sleepy, and relaxed.

“Fuck,” I said, my voice soft.

He nodded. “Every day, if you like.”

I smiled, and leaned in to kiss him again.

Then the phone rang. I didn’t even know there was a phone in the back area.

There's a tonne of other shit I wrote here if you want early access.

The lane on the opposite side of the road was dark, empty and quiet. In the rearview mirror I saw nothing but blackness. Ahead, my lights illuminated more of it.

02:23 A.M. I had one hour to go.

But I was tired, hungry, as empty as my fuel tank. If I didn’t find a gas station soon, both my car and I would run dry.

Then lights appeared ahead. Pink and yellow, cutting through the dark, and I caught myself leaning forward like that might get me there quicker.

I pulled into the gas station and lined up with the pump and killed the engine. 

As soon as I stepped out, the air shifted, the change from cold air to warm air hit me, the ground still holding heat through the soles of my shoes, while the strong smell of fuel overwhelmed me. I scanned beyond the glass and spotted the attendant reading a book. 

I paid at the pump, shoved the nozzle in with a dull clang, then stepped back and leaned against the beat up grey Civic, the metal warm against my back.

The attendant looked up once, saw me and the car, then decided his book was more interesting.

It took a couple of minutes to fill up, the pump clicking and whining in the quiet, but by then I’d already clocked the hot dogs, the burgers and something else that looked old but would hopefully turn out to be an additional edible option.

I finished up, rinsed the side of the car from the spent fuel, then headed inside to find something to put in my mouth, the door thudding shut behind me. The air inside felt off straight away, like I’d broken something just by coming inside. The brightness hit me first. After the dark outside, it felt exposing, the light catching on the glass and chrome around me.

The dark-blonde clerk put the book down reluctantly, and forced a half-smile. I noticed that small button nose, the slightly rosy cheeks like he’d been running, blue eyes that pierced the distance and full lips. Lips that appeared ready to say something, but never quite did.

All of the food looked even sadder up close, but my stomach grumbled as the smell of warmed hotdogs reached me, thick and sweet. I grabbed a hotdog, some fries, a couple of sachets of tomato ketchup, and headed to get some water.

The fridges hummed, and above me a fluorescent light flickered, buzzing faintly.

He returned to his book, though his stance was stiff. Overhead some country singer softly followed me to the counter as I brought my items and dumped them in front of him. 

Those eyes were piercing, and that smile faltered for a second as he squared his shoulders, set the book aside and picked up the hotdog. When he looked back at me, it wasn’t the same look. I almost said something, then just pulled my phone out and tapped to pay.

Seventeen fucking dollars for four items.

“Will that be all, Mister?”

I nodded, then saw a chocolate bar I definitely didn’t need. I added that to the counter and held up my phone.

His expression shifted. “Oh, love them! Trying to pretend they’re not within reach,” he said, his voice, accent stirring something in me.

I smiled. “Been a long time since I had one. Yeah, like… they’re too good.”

He smiled at the hotdog, then held up a paper bag. “Need one?”

I nodded. “Please.”

As he put the hotdog and fries into the bag, the paper crinkling between his fingers, he looked up, and I could tell he was hesitant about what he was about to say.

The new amount flashed on the register. Twenty fucking dollars.

“Kinda feels like they’re polar opposites.”

I smiled again. “You’re right, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Need to put something in my mouth, been a long drive.”

His smile widened and our eyes locked for half a second, then he slid the chocolate bar across the counter. “No point putting this next to the hot food.”

I picked up the bar and nodded. “You’re right, thanks. Not sure which I’ll eat first yet. It’s fifty-fifty.”

I saw his badge. Bradley. Early twenties, maybe, with a face that hadn’t learned how to hide anything yet. I noticed the book, either borrowed or read many times, going by the worn spine.

The two men on the front kissing gave away the contents.

“Any good?” I said, nodding at the book.

He looked down, then back to me and his smile faltered briefly. “Oh, er… yeah, it is. Read it before. Good story.” 

When he scratched the back of his neck, and his shoulders tightened, I nodded like I knew it.

“Looks good, haven’t seen that one. Might pick it up when I get home. Assume you’d recommend it if you’re reading it again?”

The smile was in his eyes this time, like blue flames in the early hours.

“Absolutely, if you’re into that kind of thing. Well written, great characters. Highly recommend it. Kind of book you hope gets turned into a movie, but also hope they don’t, in case they ruin the story for you.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that happens too often. Surprising how many good books make shit movies.”

“Like Call Me By Your Name,” he said, “excellent book, mediocre movie. Could have been done so much better.”

“Never read the book, but liked the movie. I should read the book then,” I added, staring at the bag of hot food on the counter.

He launched into the differences between both mediums, while I reached into the bag and pulled the fries out. I didn’t interrupt him, but held up the fries as a question. He nodded mid-sentence, and continued with his review of both. I threw fries into my mouth as he spoke, enjoying the passion he threw behind his analysis while the salty potatoes melted in my mouth.

“You’re a big fan,” I noted, realizing I had already demolished half the fries, “I will definitely read the book then. What was your favorite part of the story?” I said, being careful not to highlight the book or the movie, in case it set him off again.

“Fucking the peach! Definitely. Was written well in the book, but in the movie…” he continued, and I finished the fries faster than I’d intended. Hunger does that.

When he paused, I put my hands on the counter and said, “Did you want to be the peach or him?”

He seemed confused by the question for a fraction of a second, but then smiled. “Definitely the peach!”

I laughed.

“You?” He asked me, leaning in, close enough that I could feel the shift in energy between us.

“Him. I like peaches.”

We both laughed, though I noticed how he shifted, leaned in, and faced me fully.

“Where are you off to at this time?” He asked me, appearing to see me for the first time.

“Home. Been at a conference. I’m surprised I didn’t fall asleep during it, to be honest. But glad it’s over. Just opted for a long drive home over a soulless hotel in a town I don’t know.”

He nodded. “Yeah, also explains the suit at this time of the morning. Most people come in wearing shorts, t-shirts. Sometimes even barefoot.” His face screwed up at the last part.

“Rather be naked,” I added, then slammed my eyes shut, and shook my head. “...errr, sorry. That’s not what I meant to say.”

He smiled, but his eyes locked onto me. “Don’t be, that’s kinda hot. Especially after what I was just readin’.”

Unfortunately, the suit was tight, and the material failed to hide what had quickly protested in my pants.

His eyes shifted down, not quite subtly, then back up at me. “Still pretty hard to hide that.”

I looked down, immediately drew back, and shifted to the side. With my salt-crusted fingers, chocolate slowly going soft in my fist, I readjusted what could not be adjusted.

When I turned to him, his attention was below my waistline. Pretty sure he wasn’t studying my shoes.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to hide my face. My mouth was dryer than before, and the tie around my neck felt tighter, my collar sticking slightly to my skin.

“That’s hot. Never get to see boners sitting here, and I’ve been here, reading these books a few months.”

I was still not over the embarrassment, but turned back and stared at the bag on the counter. The chocolate bar slowly melting in my hand.

He looked down, then back at me, with a cheeky grin that confused me. But then I saw the tent in his grey shorts. His shorts were tight, so he was in a worse position than I was.

“Damn! That looks big,” I said, feeling my face flush, my pulse race. 

Three in the morning, hard on, fries on my breath, grease still on my fingers, not my finest hour.

It was his turn to flush a little, one hand going to the back of his neck and scratching, while the other tried to hide the unhideable.

I stared, my cock throbbing in my pants, my feet stuck to the ground, my mind reeling.

For what felt like an eternity, we both looked anywhere but each other, frequently watching each other’s bulge.

He swallowed, and tried to speak, but paused to clear his throat. “That’s kind of… made me, errr, a little…”

I nodded. “...yeah. But…” I looked around, shaking my head, trying to regain control of myself.

I spotted the cameras, one above him facing me, another by the door. I assumed there were many others.

His eyes followed where mine went. “Oh, none of them are working. Line went down a few days ago, they’re a bit slow to fix things around here.”

I looked up and realized red lights were off on the cameras. “Are you sure? I can’t…”

He nodded, then a half-smile formed. “They’re so tight, they’ve never said anything to me about all the chocolates I never paid for. Cameras working would have shown them that.”

I nodded slowly. “Have you ever…” I began, indicating the space behind the counter with my eyes.

I put my hand on the bulge in my pants, this time I held it an extra moment. 

He did the same, watching how I grabbed it and shifted it.

I looked out, and everything beyond the stations’ lights was just darkness.

When I turned back, his hand was inside his shorts, and moved slowly. A small wet patch appeared in front of his grey shorts.

He looked to his right, at where the entry door was to his cage, then back at me.

“You could…” he said, looking down, trying to hide what his eyes had already confirmed.

I looked back outside, but still it was clear, so I walked around to the side, and waited.

The door opened, and I saw him standing there, in front of me, one hand still shoved down his shorts, the other unsteadily holding the door open. Even as he held it open, I could see he was trembling.

My throat was still dry, and I wished I’d drunk some of the water. I stepped forward, my own hand going back to my bulge.

When he stepped back, the door closed behind me with a whoosh. Inside that space, the shelves were packed with tiny items, closing the walls even further. Beyond the window, my Civic sat alone under bright lights, oblivious to what I was doing.

I inhaled and tried to stop my thoughts, which kept reminding me that this was stupid, dangerous and risky.

Bradley’s fingers fumbled with the drawstring on his shorts, fingers missing it twice, but eventually pulling at it and loosening it. His hands pushed his shorts down, his eyes avoiding eye contact with mine, but staying on my bulge.

I unbuckled my belt, realizing my own fingers were just as unpredictable, forcing them to steady as I undid my top button, pulled the zipper down and let the weight of my phone and wallet pull them down around my waist. My white briefs were exposed just as his shorts revealed he was commando.

His cock sprang forward, the tip wet.

My hands let mine out, dropping the briefs and exposing my balls and my cock. I stared beyond him, to make sure there were no surprises. 

He saw me look, then turned, and then back to me, slowly jerking himself off.

“What do you want to do?” he asked me, briefly looking up at me.

I smiled. “Cock and peach,” my voice sounding even thinner than his.

He smiled, jerking faster. “Yeah, I’m down. That cock looks thick, long. Love your foreskin.”

I jerked off too, then stepped forward and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. He closed his eyes and exhaled, slow and uneven, like he'd been holding that breath since I walked in.

His hand reached out to grab mine, and I let his shaft go. He gripped it, studied it the way he'd studied that book spine, and his eyes widened. 

Bradley looked behind him once, then turned and dropped to his knees. As soon as he opened his mouth and let my cock enter his mouth, I threw my head back and gripped something on both sides, not caring what I knocked over. 

His mouth was hot, and his tongue under my cock, while the tip of my cock reached the back of his throat, was almost too much. I felt my toes curl, my knuckles whiten.

I was surprised when my cock reached the depth of his throat, and he held it there, reaching behind me to pull me in and hold me there. His chin pressed into my balls as the tip of my cock pressed into the back of his throat. 

One hand stroked my cock, while another cupped my balls, as he moved back, licking the tip of my cock, then swallowing it all. 

I sucked in breath, gripped his hair each time, trying not to pull it too hard.

After a while, he stood, watching me as he spat in his hand and reached behind him.

We were doing this.

My cock throbbed, precum leaking freely as he turned, moved to the counter facing outside, and bent over. 

His hole faced me, waiting, glistening with his spit. His ass was milky, smooth and firm.

I spat on my fingers, put some more into his hole, massaging it gently, slipping a finger inside and watching the way his back arched, the way his head tilted to one side, then lifted slightly.

I moved forward, pushing my cock into his ass, looking beyond him, but saw his reflection in the glass.

He watched me in the reflection, those blue eyes tracking every move, his lip caught between his teeth, like he was still deciding if he was still in his book. 

He’d probably been reading about it all night, fantasizing.

His ass was tight, so I gently pushed the tip in and watched him suck in a breath and hold it. When he exhaled loudly, I gave him an extra inch, reading him, and feeling my way.

I pushed in, he breathed, nodded, then I pushed in further.

I reached the end of him, my thighs pressing into his smooth butt, the front of my legs pushing against the back of his, and my balls gently knocking his balls once, then resting against them. I stayed inside him for a moment, just feeling him breathe around me, watching his knuckles whiten.

My cock throbbed deep inside him, stretching him open, watching the way he arched back, breathing in, gripping the printer by the register, almost lifting it up as my hands gripped his waist and I pushed myself deep into him.

The first few times I eased in slowly, reached the depth of him, pulling all the way out, then moving back in, enjoying the way the flesh of my cock slid easily through his ass. Enjoying the way his butt cheeks gently smacked my thighs each time.

Then, as I could feel he’d loosened, I grabbed fistfuls of flesh on either side of him and built some momentum, my cock throbbing with each thrust.

He gasped, and then moaned, each time the printer lifted in his hands, then hit the counter. As I sped up, he stopped grabbing the printer, and grabbed the register instead.

I fucked him harder each time, wanting to see how much he could take. He moaned with pleasure, pushed back into me, eyes closing for longer stretches.

He fell forward a little and lost his balance when I thrust harder, his head briefly hitting the glass, but one hand went to the window and held it, while the other reached to the edge of the counter to steady himself.

Bradley had long stopped caring about the counter. 

“Oh, God! Yes!” he said, his voice both husky and begging.

When I fucked him harder, the entire counter rattled, the printer jolting in his hands as packets of cigarettes slipped loose, pens and lighters scattering before I could track any of it, everything shifting at once around us.

I tried to slow, but one hand reached back and pulled me into him again. 

I rammed harder, keeping an eye beyond the window, and another on his face in the reflection. I fucked him repeatedly, this time scratch cards flew loose, along with cigarettes and a roll of receipt paper, plastic cups hitting him and dropping away. By the time a wad of sugar packets fell onto us, I was close to blowing my load into him.

Once more, I thrust into him, gripping his waist, his head hitting the window, more items flying loose all around us as the sensation erupted inside me. I couldn’t stop, I was so close. I thrust harder, that feeling hit me like a truck. 

It exploded through my shaft and deep into Bradley’s ass, as a plastic bundle landed on my head.

I kept going, 

“Oh, fuck…yeah, like that," he said, like he'd just found the passage he was looking for. 

I gripped him one final time, slowed down but rammed deep. 

His hand slammed the glass hard, it rattled heavily, something big and black dropped from a top shelf, landing beside us as all of it left me and I watched as he blew across the floor hands-free.

I leaned forward, and put a hand on his back, gasping to regain my breath, realizing my shirt was soaked with my sweat. Looking down, his ass was also covered in sweat. I leaned into him for a few moments, my forehead almost touching his back, both of us just breathing. The counter had stopped rattling. The fluorescent light was still flickering. Everything else was very, very quiet. Outside, my car still waited for me.

I slowly pulled out, and back away from him, the reality of what we’d done hitting me.

I stood like that for a moment, watching him stand up, looking at the chaos all around us. Neither of us looked at each other. The receipt paper had unrolled halfway across the floor. A lighter had landed in the hotdog bag.

He was already pulling his shorts up, eyes on the floor, back to being the kid behind the counter while I caught my breath.

“Want help cleaning up…” I began.

He was too quick to respond. “No, it’s fine. Thanks.”

I quickly put myself back together, and backed to the door. 

As I opened it, the phone rang.

We both exchanged a look.

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up as he stared at the phone for a few moments, before he finally reached over and picked it up.

I opened the door, and began to step out, realizing I was still hungry and needing to get out of there.

Bradley answered the phone telling the caller who he was and the name of the station.

As I walked around the counter and moved to pick up the bag with my food in it, I saw Bradley’s face.

The color drained out of it as he looked up at the cameras.

I fled.
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