THE DENTIST
A short story by Xavier
People, what few I know, tell me I'm good looking. Perhaps I am; I don't know. I do know I have a problem; I am so shy. What use are good looks if you are so shy. I try to break out of it but I seem trapped. I expect some of you reading this will sympathise with me; others will think 'Stupid kid.'
Since I left school about two years ago, with exam failure after exam failure, I have worked for Deloitte-Ottle; doesn't that sound grand. Deloitte-Ottle is a private company that deals with refuse collection in the town where I live. No, I am not a 'Bin man' I am a 'Street cleanser', in other words I sweep the streets. When I first got the job I went around with a small hand cart and brush, now, however, I have my own little electrically driven 'Pavement sweeper', I expect you know the type I mean. I like the work because I can keep myself to myself; I don't feel pressurised into talking to people. A thing to be avoided if you are shy.
From an early age I knew that I was gay, or at least I knew what I wanted. My 'Best friend' and I would 'Patrol' the playground when we were about 14; 'Bum patrol' we used to call it. We would go and eye up all the other lads and pick out the ones with the cutest, tightest little bum. We gave each marks out of ten. I think it held a greater significance for me than my friend realised, as I still do my own 'Bum patrol' now, when I am sanitizing the streets. Apart from watching the other, mainly older lads, at school, I used to get very excited at the sight of a lad of around 18 who used to come down our leafy little cul-de- sac, sweeping the road. People working for Deloitte-Ottle wear bright orange trousers. These are to make the workmen more visible and to enhance their safety on the highways. They certainly made them more visible; at least I used to think so when I saw this particular young street sweeper coming down our road early one morning.
He would be quite regular. At 8.15 every Wednesday morning, just as I was leaving for school, I would hear the familiar rumble of his cart on the rough surface of the road. I would purposely find some excuse to hang around my gate, just so that I could get a good look at him. He was very thorough, sweeping every leaf or piece of paper onto his large shovel. Of course he had to bend on a number of occasions. Those occasions were sheer bliss to me as I probed every part of his bright orange trousers with my eyes. Orange became my very favourite colour.
Apart from this guy wearing trousers in my favourite colour he had on a snow white tee shirt, at least in the summer. His bronzed arms showing from the cut off sleeves as he swept. I would often wonder if he wore any underpants. The trousers were extremely tight and, no matter how hard I probed his bum with my eyes, I could not detect any tell tale lines beneath the smooth material. This street sweeper was the image I used in many of my 14 year old jack off fantasies. I gave him a ten out of ten score on my patrol sheet.
As mentioned, after several exam failures I found myself in the local job centre. I looked around the general vacancies and noticed a card, it said: 'Self motivated individual required. Must be able to work on own initiative to serve the people of the community, to place one's fellow citizens before himself'. Deeply moved by this, I quickly noted the job No. and took it to the scantily clad 'Client manager', who would have been better suited behind a bar in some night club. Anyway, it turned out to be a job with Deloitte-Ottle and an interview was arranged for the next day.
I was very nervous on the morning of the interview, but arrived in good time at the prestigious offices of Deloitte-Ottle, a small temporary hut in the corner of the yard at the municipal dump. I walked up the short ramp to the door and knocked. "Come in," shouted a voice from within. I pushed the door and entered the small, cramped office. The office contained several large filing cabinets, a desk and, in the corner, a stack of brooms and shovels propped up behind a street sweeper's handcart.
The guy behind the desk looked up "You must be Gary; am I right?" I recognised the guy straight away. It was my tight arsed idol of a couple of years ago, now promoted to the dizzy heights of 'Human resources manager'. My heart leapt into my mouth which instantly became drier than it was when I entered the door. "Yes that's right, Gary Wright." "Take a seat Gary. Have you filled out the form the job centre gave you?" I told him I had and handed it to him. He took it and started to read the answers I had given. This gave me a few moments to take in what was happening. There, in front of me, was sitting the object of my desires. As he read the form, I caressed his face with my eyes, enjoying the smoothness of his complexion. He had very smooth skin, without a blemish, hardly any signs of a shaving stubble. His light brown hair was kept in a short style. He looked good even though he was not wearing his bright orange trousers; he wore a suit.
Looking up from my application form and straight into my eyes he said "I see you live in Scanmore Drive. That used to be part of my first round when I started with the company. Come to think of it," he paused for a moment. "you look familiar. Don't I know you?" I felt a bit uneasy, not knowing whether to admit to him probably noticing me watching his tight little bum. "I don't think so," I said bravely. "Yes I do," his face seemed to light up with a smile. "You're the school kid that I always saw hanging around his garden gate aren't you? Come on admit it," again he paused slightly. "Although you're not so little now, are you?" I felt my self getting hotter and hoped I wasn't going to turn bright red, the ultimate embarrassment.
"I think I may have seen you on the odd occasion, you look different in a suit," I replied, as calmly as possible. He laughed slightly, "Yes I suppose this suit is a bit different to the bright orange work trousers you lot get issued with. Tell me, why were you always at your gate?" I didn't know what to say. I couldn't say I was ogling his tight arse in his bright orange trousers, that I used to wank myself stupid thinking of what lay underneath. He seemed to sense my difficulty. "Stuck for words then eh?" He
got up from his desk and walked over to a door at the end of the office, it lead; I was to find out, to a small store room with no window. He emerged a few seconds later and threw a small plastic carrier bag at me. "You want this job kid?" "Yeah, course I do," what else could I say? He sat at his desk again. "I think I have a good idea of why you were watching me. Do you think I am right?" "I don't know what you mean so how can I say if I think you are right or not?" I wasn't admitting anything.
"Okay, not to worry. Look in the bag." I opened the bag. Inside was something bright orange in colour, all rolled up; the bag also contained a white tee shirt. My heart was throbbing strongly as I realised it was exactly what I used to see him wearing. "Take them out then," he said with a grin. "I think you'll approve." I pulled out the tee shirt and the rolled up trousers. As I unrolled them I could at last feel how smooth and soft the material was; something I had imagined during many a fantasy. "What's this for then?" I asked. "If you want this job, and I mean really want it, you have to pass an aptitude test, only.....," he paused, inhaled slightly and smiled. "you have to do the test I had to do when I first joined." "What do you mean 'The test I had to do'?" "I'll tell you. I know why you used to look at me; I could sense you were looking at my crotch in my work trousers, am I right?" Again I could feel myself blushing but before I could answer he continued. "You liked the look of them didn't you? They turned you on didn't they?" By now I knew I was a bright scarlet. "I knew you were trying to work out if I had anything on underneath them; you were, weren't you?" "Yes, yes, I was; I was trying to work out if you had anything under them. I did like the look of you wearing them. Okay I admit it. I admit I am queer, shall I go now?" I got to my feet and started toward the door. "Where the fuck do you think you are going then? Sit down."
As I returned to my seat he came around his desk and sat on the edge of it in front of me. I could see the beautifully bulging crotch which formed under the smooth, dark green material of his suit. I was surprised at how close fitting his trousers were considering the loose styles of today. I did not disapprove. "As I said, if you pass the test which I had to do, the job is yours. Want to try it?" I suddenly felt more at ease. I had, in essence, come out to this guy, something I had not done even to my parents. "Yeah, I'll give it a go; what do I have to do?" Placing his right hand in his trouser pocket, pulling his crotch even tighter, and smirking, he said "It's simple. Go into the store room and change into these work clothes. I think you will find they fit; you see they are the trousers and tee shirt I used to wear. When I came for the job they were given to me by the personnel manager, so, as you are of a similar inclination to me, I am giving them to you." "Is that the test then? just to put these on?" "Part of it mate, part of it."
Many of my jack off fantasies involving this guy revolved around his bright orange trousers, so you can imagine how I felt. There I was with the guy of my dreams being told to put on his old work clothes. My prick was beginning to come to life. I rose from my seat and went into the store room. As I began to change I heard the telephone ring. "Deloitte-Ottle street sanitation," I heard him answer. "Yes sir, in fact I am interviewing a very promising young man at this moment; I feel certain he will be suitable. He just has to complete his aptitude test, the one you devised personally sir."
Having removed my shoes and trousers I was about to put on the orange work trousers when I thought whether or not to take my pants off first. 'Make your dreams come true' I thought. I took them off and slipped into the trousers. As I pulled them up my legs my now semi erect prick began to stiffen even more; by the time I came to fasten the waistband and zip up the fly I had to press its hard seven inch against my belly; the heat of my knob sending a warm glow throughout my teenage body.
The trousers were tight; they seemed to fit me as they had fitted him when I saw him sweeping away. Quickly I removed my shirt and tie and slipped the tee shirt over my head. It was exactly as I had seen him, tight to my chest, my teenage nipples showing through. The times I had fantasied about getting into this guy's trousers; little did I realise that I would get into them, literally. There was a knock on the door; it opened slightly. "What size boots do you wear?" "Size eight," I shouted. "Perfect," came the reply. Seconds later a pair of boots hit the floor. I put them on.
When I was dressed for work I opened the door and went out into the office. As I did so there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he shouted. In stepped a youth of around my own age; he too was wearing the 'uniform'. "Here's my sick note for last week John," he said handing him a piece of paper. "Thanks Jason, are you feeling better?" "Yes thanks." As he turned to leave he caught sight of me, gave me a huge smile and left. I felt a little embarrassed, I didn't expect anyone else to see me dressed like this, at least not just yet.
John looked over at me. "Come and stand over here Gary," he pointed to the edge of his desk. "I see that the trousers fit you just as they fitted me then. That's the first part of the test." I laughed, "You mean part of the test is whether or not the trousers fit?" "Yes Gary, that's right. You see the bloke that owns Deloitte-Ottle, Mr. brown, likes his young street sweepers to set a good example to the other young lads in the community. His motto is 'Smart and functional'." "Mr. Brown. Mr. fucking BROWN!" I laughed. "How come the firm is called Deloitte-Ottle if the bloke's name is Brown?" John laughed as well, "Because he likes to sound continental. He says the local councils really go for continental companies for cleaning the streets; they like the French look."
By this time my prick was really stiff; I could feel my hot shaft being pressed tightly against my belly by the smooth material. I was worried that my knob end would stick out of the waistband because they seemed so low cut. I knew John could see my excitement from where he was sitting, his face level with my crotch. "Come on then Gary, turn around." I turned. "Very nice. Now walk over there and stand behind that cart." I felt like I was on a fashion show. I could feel John's eyes as they probed my trousers, just as I had done to him. As I got behind the cart and turned there was a sudden flash and I was dazzled. John had quickly taken a Polaroid camera from his drawer and snapped me. "For Mr. Brown," he said. "He likes to see new recruits."
"Wheel the cart into the store room Gary." As I did so john got up, walked to the door of the office and turned the key that was in the lock. "Don't want to be disturbed," he smirked. Once inside the windowless store room John told me to keep my hands on the handles of the cart, just as though I were pushing it down the road. "Not bad Gary. I think Mr. Brown would approve, you most certainly look smart. Now all I have to check to see is whether you are 'Functional'." He stood behind me. "Legs slightly apart Gary, legs slightly apart," he said gently in my ear. I placed my legs apart, just a little. I felt john place his hand on my bum cheeks, just as I had thought of doing to him. He ran his fingers down my crack. I felt my balls tighten. Up and down my crack he rubbed, pausing briefly to locate the exact position of my entrance, pushing slightly.
His hands then progressed between my legs; I could feel him catching the back of my balls. My prick was twitching. "That's it Gary; keep your hands on that cart. Pretend you're walking down the street and some nice six former is looking at you. Remember, just like you did." I just stood there enjoying every moment. It was what my teenage body had yearned for since I first saw this street sweeper. Slowly, John, after having squeezed my balls and felt their firmness, moved his hands around my waist. Up to the clip they went. It offered no resistance to his nimble fingers and soon I felt the tightness around my fully erect penis vanish. Down my legs they slipped, over my smooth and almost hairless teenage bum cheeks, until they were down to my knees.
"You've just passed the second part of the test Gary." "How have I managed that then? Is it because I let you touch me up?" "No, it's not that you have let me touch you up, although you would have failed if you hadn't let me." "What then? What else have I done?" "You've shown initiative. You've left your underpants off!" "I know. I always used to try to see if you had any on when I saw you in the street. I used to fantasise that you didn't have any." John started to slide his hand over my bum cheeks. "You were right Gary, I never wore any. I used to love the feel of these trousers against my bare arse as I walked around the streets. Especially when I got glances from young guys as they passed. That's how I remember you; I knew what you were looking at even at that age."
Putting his hand between my legs and squeezing at my now overly tight nuts he continued "I knew that you were like me; I had that feeling, but I couldn't say anything just as you couldn't say anything to me." He now had his hand right under my legs and was grasping my aching prick that was sticking, like a pole, in front of me. His other hand continued to rub up and down my crack pausing, as before, to locate my tight virgin entrance. The feel of his fingers on my ring was almost too much to bear. No one had ever touched me there before and it felt like nothing on earth.
"Turn around Gary." I turned and placed my hands back on the handles of the cart. John crouched down in front of me, his eyes taking in the glory of my fully erect member. "How old are you Gary?" "Seventeen and a half." "You're certainly a big lad for your age. You must have worked hard on this over the years." "I have," I replied "mostly thinking of you in your orange trousers." He laughed again and took hold of my uncircumcised shaft, pulling the foreskin back to its full extent. The end of my knob was purple and shiny; my piss slit gaping wide and oozing pre-cum.
John stood up "Pull your trousers up Gary." I was disappointed and frustrated by this request; I was dying to cum. After fastening the waistband, I was just about to force my hard on back inside when John said "Don't bother to put that away; leave it out." I was again the street sweeper, just as you would see me in the street, pushing my cart, but with one difference. John told me to again face the cart. He got on his knees between the cart and me. Without another word my cock was in his mouth. I felt a sudden surge of blood to my rock hard prick. I instinctively thrust forward, my knees buckling with the excitement.
John seemed an expert cocksucker; I began to wonder how many other 'aptitude tests' he had conducted. He smothered my knob with his tongue, touching every part of it, poking my gaping piss slip, clearing it of its sticky contents. Down my shaft he went tantalising my knob with the tightness of his throat; I thought he was going to choke on it. Faster and faster he sucked, working himself into a sexual frenzy. I looked down; I could see my hard dick jutting from the orange work trousers, my balls still being held tightly within. The sight of this, coupled with the fact that my shaft was buried deep within the mouth of my idol, was blowing my mind.
I looked past my own erection, down my legs and to the floor. I could see that John had unzipped his trousers and had the most beautiful sight I had ever seen sticking from his flies. He too was uncircumcised but he was much bigger than I had imagined. As I saw my own shaft disappearing into his hot orifice I could see his own being frantically massaged below. By this time John was beginning to moan. I was beginning to reach that ultimate point, I too became frenzied with sexual tension; something had to give.
The back of the cart had now moved towards the wall of the room and could go no further. I had John jammed between the handles of it. I began to thrust forward more; he could no longer move his head. He was sucking me no longer; I was fucking his mouth. I took over, my teenage lust overpowering me. John took it all in his stride, moaning and slurping throughout. He had to adjust his position and sat on the floor facing me, his outstretched legs between mine. I did not stop fucking his mouth as he did so. I glanced over to my right. There on the floor was an old mirror. I could see my bottom half in it. I had a perfect view of my teenage arse in those trousers. It reminded me of seeing John as he swept the road. I could see myself thrusting into his mouth, my cheeks tensing. John started to run his hands over the taught material, adding to my pleasure.
I looked down again. John's prick looked as though it would explode any second; I could see his piss slit gaping and dripping, just as mine had been. I was right; as I watched, John let out a deep moan. He wrenched his foreskin backwards as far as he could and forced his rock hard prick towards the floor between his legs. I saw as he tensed his legs and frantically ran his tongue over my prick. I then bore witness to the most enormous orgasm I had ever seen. Spurt after spurt of thick white fluid shot from his manhood covering the worn linoleum in thick streaks. That was the final straw. I looked at my arse in the mirror, thrust forward, tensed my arse cheeks, and shot. I closed my eyes and thought of John pushing his cart and I shot. I thought of all the things I had ever thought of doing to him and I shot. It was like watching a video in fast forward, vivid sexual images flashing before me, and I shot. John gulped every last drop from my throbbing prick.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. "Gary. Gary," came the voice of a young girl. "It's all over now Gary. Here rinse your mouth with this." The dental nurse handed me a glass containing pink mouthwash. "Rinse well and spit into this bowl," she said reassuringly. "There now. Wasn't as bad as you expected then was it. Here is your nasty old tooth. Do you want to keep it as a souvenir." I got out of the dentist's chair and felt a strange dampness in the front of my bright orange work trousers.......
Xavier July 1995
This is a work of fiction composed for the entertainment of adults only. Any similarity between locations or actual persons is purely coincidental. ALWAYS practice safe sex!