Alley Kat Tails: Temptation On A Slow Train To Nowhere
When I became a temporary weekend employee of the 'Old Towne Museum', I got an instant hard-on for my boss, Phillip Morris, who got a chuckle out of my loudspeaker pages: "Call for Phillip Morris".
He was Johnny-on-the-spot to see who was after him.
Morris, as everyone called him, was a 6', 175lb, dude with a muscular bod, good tan, white hair, blue-pool eyes and very sexual in his dealings with female or male folks. Normally, he didn't work on the weekend, but when Bambi, his secretary, told him that I was 'gay', he started showing up on Sundays because business was very slow and he wanted to get to know me better: ie, to see how open I was to being led to his crotch through an open fly policy, or tempted by sexual innuendo.
A full bath with shower was in Morris' office and he would come to the museum and run on a nature trail through the hills behind us. Then he would come in the office, strip and shower. He always left the door open and his clothes where he had to walk necked to and from the bath, checking to see if I was looking and the fact that I always was caused him to smile and sometimes pause and ask me something so I could see his growing erection. What he could not see was the one in my jeans, under the desk where I sat.
Morris usually rode his motorcycle to the museum and one day, when he came in, he checked to see if anyone was around and said, "Well look at this, my buttons are all in the wrong holes." "Yeah", I replied, "They're all whompy-jawed." With that, standing a foot away from my focus, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. I kept my eyes on him without flinching. Once the shirt was unbuttoned, he pulled it open so I could see his treasure chest and big nipples. Then, he began to button it, starting with the bottom one and stopping three-up, so his pecs could still be seen.
"That's better" he said. "Better was when it was all opened up and inviting," I replied. "Bambi told me you like guys - that you're 'gay', and I assure you I have no problem with that," Morris promised. "I don't think Bambi told you anything you didn't already know," I returned. "Well, I'll admit that your body language during the interview did make old 'Tracy' rise and stretch," he teased. "That must be 'Dick Tracy' that you're talking about," I said. "You name yours?" he asked. "Lord Byron", I said, "Because I'm a poet." "And now I know it", he smiled. "I'm just an open book," I winked. I'm not sure if I ever told him that 'Lord Byron' spit hot, molten cum down my leg during his strip tease or not.
After that 'I'm-okay-you're-okay' session, I began to work some week days when Bambi was off or Tammy who worked in the ticket office called out. Once Morris and I had interacted long enough that he completely trusted me and my discretion, I got to see the 'railroad yard' out back. This consisted of three train cars and a caboose. One car was a kitchen/bar, two were the 'football-watching' room' and the caboose was a bedroom that had a small 'Men's Room' with a shower attached to a small 'smoking deck'.
The first time I saw it was after a work day and Morris offered me a beer. "This is amazing," I told him, but I'd better pass because I'm going to friends for dinner," I lied. The next day was Thursday and I wasn't working at the museum. About 3:30, I got a call on my cell and it was the boss. My heart and pulse quickened. " Hey guy, I'm coming back to the Railroad yard with a pizza about 6:30, want to join me?" I "did" and I did, right after showering, douching and putting a 'viagra' in my watch pocket. The pizza was good, the first two beers were relaxing and the first touches that led to the first kiss made me know that there is a God* and He was smiling all over us.
Morris was anxiously necked and my mouth took his beautiful erection to new lows and highs with a for-sure explosion of hot cum filling my throat and upper/inner body. He "Aaaahed" louder and more joyfully than anyone I had ever gotten off before. He 'appologized' for not sucking me off and I assured him that was not necessary, as his big fingers found the tunnel between my ass-cheeks and began to probe. "Now this is something I could get into", he told me. "Do what you want, the way you want, but know that once you fuck this bitch, I'm yours. As I talked, I stepped out of my fallen jeans. My shirt was open and his fingers pulled on my protruding nips before we kissed again. Then I dove for his sex-throttle and added some firmness and length to it. I felt some lube squirt into my glory hole and it began to get hot. Then 'Dick Tracy's' big head pressed and pressed and OMG (!) went all the way in. I yelled, Morris yelled and that beaufitul big 'dog' fucked his new bitch until long after midnight, again and again. "When it's right, it works and when it works like that, that much, it is definitely right," he beamed.
We took a shower, during which he fucked me again and I sucked him off again. Then we had another beer and left the secret world of 'B&M' to return again and again, week after week, month after month, year after year. There is nothing about his family that you or I need to know. There is nothing about our relationship, other than the hot sex that you need to know. "I've been fucked on the railroad, every night and day . . . " "All aboard!!"
- Writers license Lord. I've known 'of'' You through many lifetimes, human and spirit.