Well, boys and (boys), I've beat this story up enough already and I hope it does the trick.
Jack
Jack can be reached at warp8tobeach@yahoo.com when he's not chasing squirrels.
MARCO
It all started on a popular career builder web site seeking an administrative assistant with quick books experience for a company in the travel business.
On a hoot I applied for the position despite the fact that the only experience I have with quick books was when I was in a Best Buy store and passed the software box on the shelf. After all, how hard can it be? If you can figure out Internet explorer, tax prep programs, and other Microsoft dilemmas, this shouldn't be too much of a stretch.
I pretty much forgot about my application along with a couple of other ads I applied to. One of which was for a up scale retailer that was looking for high energy individuals looking to excel. Another words, they want to braze their store logo on your pale ass. Maybe I'll pass on that one since I've had compliments on the fineness of my ass just the way it is, thank you.
That night, I went out to see the boys and got inducted into a pool game that overdrew into the night. The air was fat with cigarette soot and bored gay men huddled over the bar to watch the flat screen televisions while trying not to look so eager to get laid. Despite the unknown quantity of beers that slipped past my gullet, I managed to win two games against a tomboyish lesbian.
I got home well past 2AM and soon slipped into an alcohol induced coma replete with the required play of Freudian dreams.
My unconsciousness anticipated my needs delivering a latte of decadent proportions. I was at a Target store in the electronics section perusing phones. The item I wanted to see was behind an impregnable display case. Suddenly, this tall well proportioned filet of beef appearers and offers to help me. His name is Marco and he's of Latin descent. Standing confidently and eclipsing six feet, he carried a meaty 230 lbs of mass comfortably on his hulking frame. He's practically two of me.
Suddenly Marco's shirt-less and I'm basting his chiseled pecs with my tongue while my cock is escaping out of my pants. My hands trace the outline of his melon ass, it's impenetrable like a vault door. I follow its seductive curve down and over towards his love vent. My fingers have a mind of their own, and miraculously lubed, slip in his back door and massage his sphincter muscle. They are taunt and feel like bands of industrial iron.
I drop Marco's pants and his dick stirs from a flank of crowded pubic hair. Pre-cum coats his shaft in an oily sheen. I genuflect before him and instinctively know what to do. Marcos standing in an exaggerated military style brace position, his muscled chest pushed out, his nipples pointing down at me like two sentinels. I push against his hefty thighs peppered in wisps of raven hair and swallow his nuts as if they were meatballs. I taste their spice with my tongue and their grith occupies my mouth. Marco releases a plaintive moan. Now he speaks nasty to me.
"Take my meat, you bitch!" It's more of a desperate plea than a command. He's about to explode as I gulp his rod. His cock is a lethal double barreled shotgun and it nudges deep into my mouth creating a vacuum. I dwell in its musky perfume.
I start servicing him like a pro but we're interrupted by the incessant ringing of the phone I've purchased at Target. This is so annoying! I try to remain engrossed on his lollypop as I weave my head like a prizefighter over his pulpy 7" accessory. Marcos praying in Spanish. It's intoxicating. We're about to cum in goblets together but my mind is distracted by this damn ringing. A power failure about now would be reasonable.
I awake, and I'm agitated, hung over, and painfully erect. Marco is a lost collection of electrical signals smashed deep within my cortex. My bed side phone continues its ringing; taunting me into submission. Still disoriented, I clear my brow and answer it.
"Hello?" My clock radio blinks 9:05AM and my dog, Jack, barges up on my bed and strikes a curious pose, his butt raised and his ears pulled back. Obviously a bottom Jack Russell Terrier.
"Bill?", a genial female voice asks. "This is Gail Frank from Meridian. We've reviewed your resume and we'd like to have you come in for an interview. Can you make it today?"
I'm out of bed hunting for paper and pen and slogging about with my dick still plumb, my ball sack pulled tight again my pubic bone. Oh, where's Marco when I need him?
"I can't make it today. I've got appointments", I lied. "How about tomorrow?"
"Ten o'clock, OK?" She asked eagerly.
"Fine." I got her phone number and copied the address and tactfully asked her to repeat the company name. Later, I'd mapquest the address and research the company. But for now, I was in need of a large breakfast and fresh coffee. Jack needed a walk.
The following day I met Gail Frank in the flesh. It's always interesting to see if the voice on the phone concurs with the actual person. I estimated that Gail would be in her mid forties, fashionably dressed, and armed with a sizable allocation of jewelry. She was pretty much as I've imagined except for her weight. Gail never passed a dunkin' donuts without a quick pit stop but still managed to carry her heft with style.
We adjourned to an empty conference room and she ran through her spiel about the company. It would be my job to relieve her of the mundane chores of wrestling with invoices, billing, and keeping tabs on inventory. Basically, she was swamped with work from two offices and needed an assistant to do the grunt work. We exchanged questions and answers and I found her friendless to be genuine.
She spoke keenly with a Long Island brogue and took me on a tour of the office to meet the pocket-sized staff. I felt like a grade schooler being taken on a show and tell trip. I met the sales rep by the name of Tony barricaded in his cubicle by a mound of files, a multi line phone with its lines blazing, and two computer monitors. He reminded me of a trader on Wall Street.
Behind him sat Brenda. She was a stunning blond playboy model that looked about two months out of college and already had the title of media consultant. Her makeup was heavy and cleavage a bit overdone.
Moving along, I met Tom, a nattily dressed black guy flawlessly tweezered and fit for a photo shoot with GQ Magazine. My gaydar buzzed. The eye contact and handshake was just a little too extended for a heterosexual encounter.
Next to meet was Rich. There was no need for my gaydar to even be switched on at this point. This guy was more queer than Batman and Robin. Painfully thin and vertically challenged, Bill wore his docker pants tight and it exaggerated his dovish size and flat ass. He was in charge of scheduling and spoke in pokey hesitation as he shifted his eyes down to my feet and then up my legs, torso, and finally, upper body. I was picked over like leftovers in a Macy's after Christmas sale.
Damn! Everyone's light in the loafers here, I thought. It's like a gay aviary. How does any work get done when there's probably more cruising here than at a leather bar?
Gail introduced me to an older creased faced lady who said hello with a raspy smokers voice and stained teeth. Her fire engine red lipstick was applied in ablative layers along with mascara and blush. I've seen worn drag queens better tricked out.
Without warning, my gaydar wailed like a police radar detector. He was walking purposefully towards us. Comfortably in his mid thirties and carrying his solid physique like a tight end football player, I tensed for the tackle. His dark long sleeve shirt couldn't hide his raised traps flanked by bolder like shoulders and melon sized biceps. As he walked, his shirt twisted and pulled over his sculpted pecs. I could almost imagine a substantial grith of cock swinging loosely in his pants below from which a mouthful of balls housed his load shot.
He carried some paperwork in his meaty hands. Hands that could caress me in bed, hands that would violate my tight ass, hands that would stroke my cock to a feverish erection and furious organisms. I could hear voices but they were incongruous to me. It was like being in a crowded bar and being aware of multiple conversations but filtering them all out except the one you're inclined to hear.
We made eye contact, he smiled and I almost lost my composure. His lips were juicy, good for sucking cock. His dimples were the size of gopher holes and his teeth orthodontically perfect.
"Oh, and here's Marco", Gail said as if she's just found her lost cat. He towered over the both of us and radiated intensity. Politicians call it charisma, I call it lust.
"Marco's our director and we keep him quite busy", Gail reported.
I was light headed as well as light in the loafers. How can this be?
We shook hands and I felt so feminine as he wrapped his paws around mine knowing full well that he could crush it like an aluminum can if he wished. He applied just enough pressure to let me know that he was the alpha male as if I couldn't have figured that out on my own. His hands were calloused from hard work. I would have dropped to my knees and serviced him right there had he commanded it. His forearms bulged through his shirt and hot black chest hair peeped through his open shirt collar.
"Nice to meet you, Bill. We can use some good men around here. Welcome aboard!", he said in a sexy Latin lilt. I was smitten but also surprised. Was he suggesting that I've got the job when it wasn't even offered to me? I replayed his "good men around here" line in my mind. Did I hear that right too? Gail displayed an extended smile as if overdosed with botox. She nodded approvingly at everything Marco said.
Marco leaned back and belted out some orders to staff members who all seemed to reveal in his presence.
"See you soon, Bill", Marco offered his hand again we shook again, this time it was more protracted and deliberate. He walked to his office in the corner and I stole a glance at his ass which rose high on his hips, brawny from lots of heavy squats. He sported a powerful "V" taper from behind and could rip his shirt clean off if he pressed a lat spread. Damn!
Gail walked me to the front door and we chatted for a few moments. She told me that they had some other candidates to interview and that I should be hearing from her in a couple of days. Usually I have all my interviewee speaking points rehearsed but I was mute and walked outside in a bit of a fog. It was too surreal.
I drove to the mall and read some magazines at the bookstore sipping their coffee while unable to get my mind off Marco. Just as soon as my erection would diminish, I'd relive the past hour and I'd get hard again. Why is it a gay mans fate to lust for what he can not have? We collectively covet the boyfriend already taken, the on line stud from Australia, and the straight man who also happens to be your future boss.
I was considering not accepting the job since I'd be in a state of arousal eight hours a day. Isn't that bad for your heart?, I wondered.
My car clock blinked 2:50PM and my stomach was reminding me of a human chore gone undone. I spied a McDonald's and kicked the car into the parking lot.
It was busy but the store was clean and well managed. Even though I was seventh in line, I was served quickly and took my food to the dining area. A television was tuned to CNN and provided me with a nice diversion. I was in the middle of a tidy chomp of my burger when I spotted a figure walk by my table and stop.
"Bill? Well, this is a coincidence!"
I glanced up. He was in silhouette due to the late afternoon sun dropping below the stores awnings but I recognized the voice and my cock snapped as if whiplashed.
"Marco! Late lunch for you too?" I levitated out of my seat to shake his hand. He waived me off with a dismissive gesture.
"May I join you?", he asked.
"Sure, sure", I stuttered. Marco sat and the booth seemed to settle an inch. A twink drawing a soda from the fountain kept looking over at us, probably salivating at the whole scene.
Marco breathed deeply I spotted the hint of a nipple under his shirt. He settled into his lunch chewing feverishly and talking with an animated free hand.
"Late lunch for me, yes. I had a conference call after I met you and then met a client." He glanced at his watch to clarify the point.
"I was on my way home to check on what the plumber did and then realized that I've had such a hectic day, I've never had time to eat." He motioned reflectively. "And I try to load up with six meals a day now that I'm working out with some heavy iron."
I think I pre cummed right there. Anyone missing their tartar sauce?
"You're massive", I blurted out in an envious draw realizing that I might have just as well handed him my gay card. I'm sure I blushed.
"Thanks", he beamed warmly. He dispatched his burger and blew up his biceps to the size of melons. I thought the fabric of his shirt would submit to the force and we'd hear two sharp rips. One from his shirt, the other from my zipper exploding and freeing my lizard. I could just see parents protecting their screaming kids, fries airborne, and seniors thieving a drawn out gawk.
"I'm 220lbs right now but eventually I'll cut to 190 or so.", he nodded while I tried not to choke on my soda and regurgitate it through my nostrils.
He cut his hazel eyes loose and they reviewed my body up and down and then side to side like a butcher about to filet a steer.
"You got great definition and muscle tone. What's your weight? 170lbs?", he asked in a complementary guess.
"Around 165", I shrugged. "In college, I wrestled at 155."
"You're cut so nice", he swooned but with a hint of heterosexual flavor found at a working class Jersey gym. "You're got great definition. I thought you carried yourself well back at the office."
We both settled into a pregnant silence. It was so outside the normal gay context and I could be wrong... but was this dude hitting on me?
We shuffled an unsteady gay waltz. Marco asked where I worked out and appeared really interested in my routines and training schedule. He told me he worked out at Flex gym known for its massive gay clientele and steamy showers.
Our conversation grew close and natural as I got comfortable with Marco. Gone was the professional and hurried boss as he spoke spontaneously and percolated smiles. He talked about the stresses of his job, his hobbies, and his new townhouse that he bought. He just had a jacuzzi installed on his deck and was on his way home to unwind in it. I could almost hear the non verbal invitation.
We exchanged stories about our latest vacations, my job search, favorite vices, and we found out we both have Jack Russell Terriers. Wait a minute! Aren't they the gayest dog in the canine world?
"Oh, you have a Jack Russell?", he asked. I nodded yes and signaled that he had a dollop of ketchup on his chin. What the hell, I thought and stretched over the table and applied a napkin to the offending condiment. Marco didn't even flinch.
"What's his name?", Marco asked.
"Jack", I said flatly. We both giggled like school girls at recess.
"How original", he praised. "Mines a bitch. I named her Sandy after a former girlfriend."
Oh boy, I pondered. Here we go again, this sexual swordsmanship. My woody deflated and I needed to get more aggressive. I was sure this guy was of the same political affiliation.
"So you just bought a jacuzzi?", I pried. "I wanted to get one too for when my back acts up after working out."
"It's the tops after pumping some serious steel. It feels so good!"
I got so hard so quick I thought I'd pass out from hypoxia. Woody's back! This time I wasn't about to let this train leave the station without me on board. He already got away once in my dream.
I decided to set a homo erotic tone.
"I think a well developed male body is a work of art. When I wrestled in college, it felt awesome to pin someone or get pinned by someone bigger than me", I said. There. Let's see where Marco takes that!
Marco was touched with a prankish smirk. "Want to come over? We'll work out, grab some beers, and hit the tub." All aboard!
I followed Marco's Lexus sedan a few miles to a subdivision of clone like town homes staggered around a golf course and resort style clubhouse. His home was spacious and minimally furnished. True to form, his pugnacious Jack Russell ambled over and mauled me with kisses. Marco offered me a beer from a stocked double door refrigerator. An alcove kitchen table and comfy chairs served as a welcoming retreat to enjoy your morning coffee. Scores of fitness magazines graced the table from the brutal Muscle Magazine to the edgy Mens Workout.
Marco made his moves like a thief suddenly coming up from behind me and planting a tender hot kiss on my neck. I fell back into his arms overcome with passionate vertigo. He was shirtless and I disappeared into his chest. He picked me up with ease and worked my mouth open with his tongue and inspected the deepest crevices south of my lips. I moaned in delight. Powerless under his spell, there was nothing I could do to break free. It was so delectable.
"Are you enjoying your workout, so far?", he asked.
"I'm managing," I deadpaned.
We were a confusion of undress as I struggled with a knot in my shoe and Marco fumbled with his pants. It was a hapless race to see who could shed clothes first while licking the other persons body in dubious locations. Marco finished first and I was in awe of his full pecs, baseball sized biceps, and thighs that were meatier than a Butterball Turkey. His semi-erect manhood rushed past a phlanax of hot bush and his ball sack hung lazily under its gun heating up his precious shot.
I dropped to my knees and sniffed at his shaft gently blowing on it followed by a test drive with my tongue. I engulfed his rod and shoved it deep within my mouth like a kid devouring an Oreo cookie. As I slobbered over his fat cock, he fed me his shaft and I was treated to a squirt of tangy pre cum.
He carried me like a baby to the deck by the hot tub. I just had to swallow his ass. It could win ribbons in the Iowa State Fair. I directed Marco to raise his legs to his ears and ate him out as if it were my last meal.
His armpits were glistening with sweat and I burrowed my nose in and felt levitated by the musk.
I shot a abbreviated burst of pre cum, caught it in my hand, and slid my fingers in Marco's jaws making him taste my passionate load from my delicate fingers. He returned the favor and drove a selection of well sized digits into my ass so smoothly that my sphincter muscle didn't reflexively tighten until I was taken past his knuckles.
He tossed some oversized beach towels on the deck and we collapsed into them. Marco's on top of me. He threw me over and raised my legs rubbing his cockhead against my hole. I squirmed and uncorked a guttural moan as he got me on all fours and pushed my vulnerable ass out. I rotated my body rearward as he slid into me. I felt a burning sensation in my ass like when you know you've got a big one inside of you. I just wanted to suck his whole carcass up my ass.
His anaconda burrowed deep and he plowed mercilessly into me like a boxer delivering a punch to the head but it feels so damn good. Marco bottomed out inside of me, his ball sack banging against my cheeks.
He held my torso in a vice of his strong arms and told me how good my snug hole feels. He flexed his cock and it transported me into a galaxy of orgasms.
Marco compliments me on the warm wetness of my hairy ass. It tickles his cock to a state of chaos.
Marco withdraws and falls over me. I naw on his nips and bury my face into a clipped lawn of licorice chest hair. Refreshed, he punches in again with his cum dumper this time with faster and more final stabbing like thrusts. I know what that means and I reach down to my own happy meat and buff it to perfection.
He fucks me missionary with my legs over his massive traps; his body coiled back and plowing all the way. Then he turns me like a rag doll and bangs me sideways but tenderly leans over to kiss me and make sure I'm okay. Sex for me is as much pleasing my partner as it is pleasing myself and Marco's attentiveness was dreamy.
Now I'm face down with my mouth biting on his beach towels. Downy soft! My rigid cock is rubbing against them in a humping motion. The lower more sensitive side of my cockhead is being driven crazy by the friction with the towels.
Marco gyrates his hips and slams into me. It's a amorous car wreck. We're in sync and soon Marco unleashes his final power thrust and begins pumping buckets of his juice into me. I'm hooked up tightly in his arms and legs; his tits grinding at the small of my back. There's no escape. I feel his hot juice coat my insides and his sweat moisturizes me.
I shiver and my eyes flutter as if in REM sleep. He bites down on my neck and I shoot really hard spilling my cum as he unloads into me. From my end, it feels like a fire hydrant and my sphincter muscles flutter and help suck his last drop right out of him.
Marco frees me from his embrace, his body heaving and towering over mine. We both have that look of satisfaction. Our lips fancy an adolescent taste of each other. He wraps his arm around my head and I bob up and down in his chest. Why can't every job search be like this?