You want disclaimers? don't read the following unless you're into man on man action and its legal. don't distribute it to minors either. don't finish the job until you get to the closing paragraph or you'll make me feel cheap. all characters are fictitious except the moderately glorified narrator, who might look a little like me.
August in New England is a temperamental creature, but Jason was prepared. Aside from the usual worn baggy jeans and uniform polo shirt, he had a rain jacket in the car and a sweatshirt for wearing in the cooler. The reflection in the store front window was too blurry to flash a smile and see if he had food stuck in his teeth, but clear enough to check his hair. It didn't need to get buzzed again for another couple days, so it'd do.
Reynolds Liquors was a family company, owned by two brothers in their forties. They were strikingly different personalities. Sam was the elder by two years and it showed in the way he ordered staff around like they were personal assistants. His office's glass window overlooked the floor, so he was often craning his head up from his desk to make sure none of his employees were looking too at ease. When he sat, you could see just the top of his bald head. Mike was the more amiable of the two. He had a degree in business marketing that made his friendliness seem a bit straight out of the tin so to speak, but Jason appreciated the respectful language Mike used even if it wasn't entirely genuine. Both brothers stood at about six foot, although Mike might be about an inch taller, with broad shoulders. They'd both played football in high school and college, and Sam still played a game of touch football with his buddies every month or so. Despite the last name, they both looked to be of strong Italian or Greek descent -- in the summer, as it was now, they both acquired a deep tan with little effort. Curly, dark hair showed at the collars of both their shirts, while Mike also sported a thick moustache and had possibly the hairiest knuckles known to mankind.
Jason was working with Greg today. A bulky young kid of Irish descent, his belly alone probably weighed the same as Jason's entire lean 5'10" frame. A typical eighteen year old suburbanite, but a good kid. The experience of five years out of school gave Jason a worldly affection for Greg, despite his obsession with rugby. Greg tended to just sit behind the front desk watching ESPN, which meant Jason had to look busy around the store so Sam or Mike wouldn't try and create something for him to do. Jason didn't mind the work -- it was senseless retail so nothing required much concentration -- but he got annoyed when either of the ivory tower-dwelling pair attempted to assign him anything "productive," because it all too rarely made sense. As far as Jason was concerned, it was the most badly run store he'd ever found temporary employment at. After all, he had a degree in fine art with a focus on photography. His prints sold often enough through the three stores that commissioned his pieces, but not enough to pay rent and groceries and still have a little left over to enjoy himself a bit. The twenty five hours a week he worked at Reynolds was a necessary evil.
The day was going to be a long one. Jason spent three hours from eight until eleven in the cooler, restocking the shelves. Working in the cooler meant he needed to wear a hat and sweatshirt so his arms and ears didn't fall off from the cold, but also meant that he sweated twice as much. So, at eleven, his face and hands were numb, but his entire upper body was dripping with sweat. He could feel it beginning to trickle down his back past the waistband of his jockeys when he decided enough was enough. He needed to go to lunch.
Jason walked from the cooler across the store floor until he came to the front desk. Greg was sprawled on some boxes behind the counter watching television. "I'm going to get some food. You want anything, man?" he asked.
Greg looked up for a second, thinking. "Yeah, how about -- " He was interrupted by the intercom.
It was Sam's voice. "Jason, to the office."
He looked up at the window to see Sam standing up, his head and shoulders looking down at him. The other offices beside him belonged to Mike and the financial controller, but lights weren't on in their windows.
"Sorry dude, gotta go see what that prick wants. I'll ask you again when I come down." Jason sighed, sketched a wave with his hand, and began sauntering towards the stairs. Be damned if he'd trot for the bastard. He unzipped his sweatshirt on the way, hanging it over his arm when he had it off. The inside of his right forearm was still slightly swollen from the freshness of the bull design he'd had tattooed a couple days ago.
When he got to the top of the stairs he stopped to wipe the sweat off his forehead before knocking on the door. "C'mon in Jason," he heard Sam say.
Jason opened the door and stepped into the office without a reply, but the whoosh of heat from inside startled a wordless "huh" kind of noise from him.
Usually the office was climate controlled to perfect shirt-and-slacks wearing temperature, but today it was roasting. Sam's collared shirt was hanging on the back of his chair, while Sam himself was just wearing a sleeveless undershirt. No, let's be honest, Sam wore it like the guys on Cops. Just beginning to develop a belly that couldn't be exercised away, the slightly stretched wifebeater showed off a hairy chest that stretched across Sam's collarbones and intruded on his back. One nipple looked through the thin fabric like the tip of a ballpoint pen, while the other stood in full view on the edge of a rounded pectoral that wasn't covered by the old shirt.
Sam was speaking to him, and standing, arms stretched overhead as he held up the air conditioner against the wall, which was clearly about to crash onto his head. "Get the fuck over here and help me put this back in! What's wrong with you?"
Jason shook his head a bit, stumbled over his tongue and rushed over to Sam.
He had to lean in against the older man to hold up the air conditioner unit. When he looked at the unit to make sure he was holding it in the right place, he noticed two things. The first was that his face was actually being tickled by the hair of Sam's armpit while he tried to show a thick bolt into the slot that connected the unit into the wall above their heads. The second thing Jason noticed was that, in a mix of confusion and embarrassment, his dick was swelling in response to Sam's proximity. His mind raced with fear as he tried to simultaneously maneuver away the beginnings of a raging hard-on and pay attention to what Sam was muttering.
Jason must not have performed well enough with the latter, because suddenly Sam shouted loudly into his ear, "Damnit, Gillis, get that thing closer again and keep it there!"
Jason grunted, "Of course, Sam," and reluctantly moved back to where he had been: his cock pressing up against Sam's hip and his face getting a good smell of another man's sweat. The smell was strong, but not disgusting. Jason liked it somewhat -- he himself never seemed to smell strongly when he sweated.
"Ahh, perfect. Stay still," his boss muttered again, perhaps to Jason or perhaps to himself. Regardless, he moved to slam the bolt home, abruptly burying Jason's face completely in his arm pit while jamming his hip against Jason's groin. The younger man groaned slightly and stepped back immediately now that the unit was fixed to the wall, while Sam looked at him shrewdly. "Sorry if I hit your hand or something."
Jason was breathing a bit heavily, while trying to make the hands covering his crotch look casual. "No, ah -- no. I'm fine." This was just too intense, he thought to himself, what am I doing? I wish he'd send me out of this office ...
Sam still looked shrewd, but at least he wasn't shouting at him. He flicked on the new unit with a wide finger, and stood in front of it for a second as the cold air came through. Over his shoulder, he said to Jason, "Come feel the fruits of your labour," and stepped slightly aside.
Jason did so, murmuring politely that it worked fine, when he felt Sam's hand slipping under the back of his shirt, roughly stroking the small of his back. Jason couldn't speak, but his cock throbbed painfully as the older man touched him. A finger traced the sweat downward beneath his jockeys to slide between the two mounds of his asscheeks. Jason's face burned.
Sam didn't ask permission when he pulled out his hand, snapping the elastic of Jason's underwear against his skin, in order to pull Jason's shirt over his head. Jason didn't resist, even moved his arms slightly to accommodate.
But as the air conditioner blew cold air against his sweaty chest, he found he has regained his voice. "The windows!" he choked out from a suddenly hoarse throat.
Sam smiled and said callously, "You won't be standing for long." He moved over to his leather chair, spun it to face Jason and sat down. Sam's eyes devoured his details like a baseball card collector. Jason's body was taut, like a featherweight boxer. Steel rings pierced each of Jason's nipples, and a thick swathe of golden brown between his pecs was the only hair on his chest. Geometric and astrological designs were tattooed into his back and belly. Jason's expression was one of both powerlessness and desire.
When Sam's gaze reached Jason's crotch, he just nodded and Jason began to undress further. He kicked his shoes off before pulling his belt out of the loops in a single tug, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. Eyes locked on Sam, he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them to the floor. His cock strained against the white boxer briefs Jason wore, precum staining a larger and larger mark on their front. Still maintaining eye contact, he managed to rid himself of both jeans and socks at the same time. Uncertainly Jason stepped towards Sam, who had not moved throughout the entire procedure.
Abruptly, Sam, reached forward from his chair and yanked Jason towards him by the hips until Jason's cock was only inches from Sam's face. With a fierce motion, Sam grabbed the back of Jason's jockeys and actually ripped them in half. The sound of them tearing was immense after all the silence that had stretched between them as Jason had undressed. Jason was shocked voiceless again as his prick thwacked him in the belly before continuing to point helplessly at the ceiling.
Sam actually hissed when he saw the considerable circle of metal that penetrated Jason's piss slit and came out the underside of his shaft.
Then, almost tenderly, Sam slid his two hands around Jason's lightly haired ass until he found the younger man's asshole. A finger from Sam's right hand massaged it eagerly, though his face showed no such expression. Jason's arms had descended to rest on Sam's wide shoulders without his boss remarking. As soon as Sam got his bearings, he thrust unexpectedly upwards with his finger, penetrating Jason's ass and pressing in past the knuckle in one motion. Jason let out a deep moan, uncertain of whether this was a good pain or a bad one, and fell forward somewhat.
The head of his cock had come into contact with Sam's grizzled lip and his tongue was soon tasting the metal of Jason's PA. A second finger began to assault Jason's ass as Sam pressed that cock deeper and deeper into his mouth, until he was nearly forcing Jason to fuck his face.
Jason's fingernails began to dig into Sam's shoulders and he was moaning uncontrollably each time Sam pushed and pulled at his ass. He felt his cock tensing up and throbbing with pleasure more than he'd ever felt, until he began to forcefully shove his cock into Sam's face and forced strings of cum down his boss's throat. Even when he'd finished, Sam kept massaging his ass with now four fingers as he licked and sucked at Jason's rapidly diminishing knob.
Eventually, Sam leaned back, a tiny drop of cum still on his lip, and withdrew his fingers. One of Jason's hands rushed back to fill the now horrible empty hole, while the other reached forward to catch the cum from Sam's lip and bring it back to his own mouth. As he tasted the salt of his own juice, he suddenly remembered the windows, and looked down feverishly but Greg was ringing up customers and didn't seem to have noticed the naked torso of his coworker that must have been visible from the desk.
When Jason looked back down to Sam, he saw that his boss had pulled his wifebeater over his head, revealing that chest carpeted in dark hair. Now Sam was unbuckling his own pants, to push both them and his undershorts to his ankles. Sam's cock was long and thick, bulging with thick veins and standing straight up from a thick black bush of hair.
Nervous, not knowing what to do, Jason looked at Sam cautiously as he began to lower his head toward Sam's thick cock, but Sam smiled and shook his head. "Turn around, Gillis," he ordered.
Sam waited until Jason's loosened asshole was facing him until he pulled a rubber from his desk drawer and ripped it open. Jason heard the sound of it being rolled down his boss's shaft, then felt those fingers in him once again, but this time rubbing cold, cold fluid into his hole. Jason was desperate to be filled again, but the idea of that huge cock going inside of him was almost terrifying.
Keeping in character, when he was ready Sam just pulled Jason down onto his cock, the head popping into his ass with a distinct noise until Jason felt like it was in his stomach. Unconsciously he began to rock up and down, side to side, trying to figure out whether he liked the feeling. But before he could decide, Sam was lifting him up in his strong arms and laying him face down on the desk. Soon he was thrusting in and out of him, and Jason couldn't help but let out a moan each time he heard and felt Sam's balls come slapping into his ass cheeks. The pressure on his prostrate felt so good he thought he'd pass out. Sam was grunting loudly with each thrust, gripping the backs of Jason's thighs tightly with each hand. He increased the pace gradually, until ever second he was pounding into Jason's ass like a jackhammer and his grunting was more like wordless yelling. Jason found himself muttering, "Fuck me, fuck me" over and over under his breath, and somehow tightening his ass muscles around that shaft so he could feel it in his prostrate even stronger. They could have been fucking for hours or minutes when suddenly Jason felt Sam's hands on his shoulders and that hairy chest pressed up against his back, Sam's lips biting his neck as he let loose three final prolonged thrusts with one last groan.
Even after he'd finished, Sam stayed lying there, sweat pooling between their bodies while he kissed and nibbled at Jason's neck, the stubble from Sam's cheek harsh against Jason's skin. Then, drawing himself to his feet with slippery motion, he put one hand on Jason's ass while the other held onto the rubber as he slowly began to draw out his still mostly rigid cock. To his surprise, Jason found himself actually mewling in displeasure, murmuring, "Don't --"
When he was interrupted by the sound of someone slowly clapping. Sam turned with a start and said, "What -- ?" then stopped when he saw who it was.
Mike stood in the doorway of his office looking into the room with his fly down and his cock out. His cock glistened with precum -- he'd obviously been stroking himself. "Nice show, boys. Now I think you'd better think of a few reasons why I should delete these, because I can't think of any myself."
He pulled a camera phone from his shirt pocket and showed his brother and his employee the image captured on screen: it showed Sam eating Jason's cock and stuffing Jason's ass with fingers.
Mike chuckled, "And that's just the funniest one."
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