Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
WARNING: The following story contains graphic descriptions of sexual activity. This is a work of FICTION (as far as I know), intended for ADULTS ONLY. If you are below 21 years of age, or offended by this kind of material, or it is illegal where you are, stop reading now. -- CJ
If you like this, watch this space! More to come... curjim@usa.pipeline.com
I usually enjoy working late. I like the solitude, and I get more accomplished without the hassle of other people around, harassing me. To be honest, I also like the fact that I don't have to dress up in the usual suit and tie. When I work the night shift, every other month or so, I wear a casual T-shirt and my favorite pair of torn and faded 501's. But this stint on night shift had lasted longer than usual, and I hadn't been able to get to the bars or see any of my old friends for a while. Frankly I was getting horny.
Last night as I was reconfiguring the memory usage of the Senior Vice President's old 386, I noticed that the connecting door between his office and that of the company president was slightly ajar. Every time I've been in the president's office, he was playing computer games, or surfing through one of the on-line services or the Internet. He had access to them all. I decided to go in and log on.
Sneaking into his office, I left the main lights off and turned on the lamp by his computer. Logging in, I began in the Gay and Lesbian Rooms of America on Line. It was kind of dull last night, not much conversation, the usual juvenile banter, the pre-adolescent gibberish and a basher or two. As I was about to sign off, though, I received an IM, and we got chatting rather deeply. I had been "on" about a half hour when I heard the door to the hallway rattle. One of the security guards must have decided to get off his fat ass and make rounds. There's a first for everything, I suppose. The last thing I wanted to see was one of the company dicks right then. They all were cut from the same mold; short, fat, and ugly. No matter the temperature or season, they always had great, greasy sweat stains on their too tight uniform shirts. It was the sight of them that had cured me of my uniform "fetish." I just managed to get logged off when the guy walked in.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Without turning around to look at him, I said "The boss's computer was giving him trouble with memory. I was trying to get it fixed."
"Well we weren't informed. Where's the work request?"
"The president doesn't need one. When he says it's broken, we fix it."
My heart was racing. I could tell he was coming up behind me. I felt his hand on the back of the chair as it pulled me away from the desk.
"Yeah, I suppose that's true," the guard said. Then he chuckled. "You must really enjoy working with computers!"
"Oh, why do you say that?" I still hadn't bothered looking at him. I always affected an air of superiority over the guards. That probably didn't help their opinion of me. But then, they were overly superior jerks, too.
"`Cause it looks to me like you've got a hard on!"
It was true, I was still turned on by a conversation I was having on line.
I slumped forward, groaning. I knew all the guards on sight, and most of them didn't like me, and I knew word would get around by the next day. Burt I was determined not to let the fat slob get to me. I turned to make a crack regarding his weight, but the words caught in my throat. This was a guard I'd not met before. He was a little younger than I, about 21, I guessed, almost as tall as I was, and very trim. And very, very cute.
"My name's Chris. I'm new here." Like I hadn't figured that out. I told him as much.
I swallowed and closed my mouth which had fallen open. "Joel, but you can call me Joey," I responded, putting out my hand to shake and starting to stand.
"Don't bother getting up," Chris said, gently pushing me back into the chair. "So what do you do around here to stay awake?"
"Usually, I've got enough systems to fix. I don't know what the guards do."
"Near as I can tell, they sleep!"
"Wouldn't surprise me!" By now I had dismantled the president's computer and was pretending to peer at the SIMMS. Juggling one, I announced that I had found the problem and reseated one of them. I immediately began to put it back together. When I finished, I put my tools back in my case and started to get up.
"Don't be in such a hurry!" Chris said. "It's boring here. Don't you have a few minutes to talk?"
"I guess so." I settled back.
For the next couple of minutes, Christ asked me about my job, and told me about his. As he talked my eyes wandered to the crotch of his well-tailored uniform. From the shape of his bulge, I was sure there was something inside that would be of interest. His voice trailed off, and he stepped up beside my chair. Leaning down, he pointed to something on the computer screen, and placed his other hand on my shoulder, by my neck.
"What's that do?" he asked.
"That, um . . . that is a..." I decided to take a direct approach. "It sends a warm feeling down my back is what it does."
Chris smiled at me, then stepped around behind the chair and began to rub my shoulder with one hand as the other reached down my chest and came to rest against my tit. "I hope you don't mind," he whispered. I didn't.
His arms applied pressure to my back so I sensed he wanted me to sit forward. As I did, he reached down with both hands and grabbed my T-shirt, then quickly pulled it up and over my head, tearing it a little. Throwing it on the desk, he pulled me to my feet and turned me to face him. He pulled me close to him, and I could feel his strong arms hold me tight as he began to kiss me, hungrily pushing his tongue into my mouth.
After a moment, he let up the pressure so I reached between us and unfastened his gunbelt, placing it gingerly on the president's credenza. Continuing with our kissing, I began to undo Chris's uniform shirt, which I then pulled back and down his shoulders, revealing a well-tanned and muscled che st and two small, erect, dark brown nipples. I finished removing his shirt and threw it on the desk next to mine.
By now, Chris was fumbling with my belt so I put my hands on his rippling shoulders, caressing the back of his neck with one hand. Freeing the buckle, Chris began to unfasten the buttons of my jeans. By now, I could no longer keep my hands off that promising crotch. As my hand closed on its target, I felt the rewarding bulge of his cock. It wasn't a disappointment!
Finishing the last of my buttons, Chris reached a hand inside, stroking then grasping my cock with a pressure that nearly made me gasp. After squeezing tightly for a minute or two, he slid my pants down below my knees, then effortlessly lifted me to a sitting position on the president's desk. Throughout the operation, so far, our lips had never parted. But now he broke contact, stepped back and removed my tennis shoes, then pulled my jeans off completely, leaving me naked but for my socks. I don't wear underwear.
"Lie back," he whispered.
As I complied with his request, he walked around to the other side of the desk, and grabbing my shoulders, pulled me back so that my head was hanging over the edge. As I gazed up at his abdomen and chest, he unfastened his pants and let them drop to his ankles, then pulled his white shorts down, revealing his limp, but fattening shaft.
"Open wide, Joey, and give me a ride."
Eagerly, I opened my mouth as Chris slapped my face with his cock. Then, oh so carefully, he slid his manhood into my mouth, filling it with his musky taste. For a while, he stood there allowing me to get used to his cock in my mouth, his shaven balls on my eyes, my nose buried in his scrotum. I felt him kick off his shoes, and step out of his pants and shorts.
Then, starting slowly, he began to move his thighs, fucking my mouth as his cock swelled in size to full erection. As he shoved himself deep into my throat, in an ever increasing tempo, I found myself struggling to breathe, but groaning with pleasure. Just as I was beginning to think he would go on like this indefinitely, he pulled out.
Without a word, he walked around to the back side of the desk and slid me forward again. Then he grabbed my knees and thrust them up to my chest, spreading my ass as he did so. In order to free his hands for more urgent business, I hooked my heels behind his neck. Grabbing my jeans, he found the condom I always kept in my wallet.
Spitting on his hand, he lubed himself then my ass. I felt him push himself into my hot, tight ass. As before with my mouth, he lingered a while as I grew accustomed to his presence, then slowly at first, then with growing urgency, he fucked me, faster and faster. His hands on my calves pressed my knees back nearly to my ears. I felt the muscles scream, but was too enthralled to care. Limping around for a day or two would be worth the memories of this. I had never been fucked like this before. I heard the clock chime two o'clock as Chris suddenly tensed, then quickly pulled out, ripped off the condom and shot hot streams of cum all over my chest, the first spurt striking me in the face. Then, entering me once again, he pulled me forward and licked my face clean.
Still holding me close to him, my legs now wrapped around his back, he stepped back and sat on the edge of the large, leather executive chair. I felt his cock throb for a while inside me, then grow soft. We kissed some more, then I rested my head on his shoulder. A chime from the clock announced 2:15.
"Joey, I'm not sure how we are going to get out of this position," he chuckled. After a moment of struggle we found our way back to our feet. As I cleaned Chris's chest and mine, then the president's desk, I giggled at the aroma which now permeated the room.
"What time do you get off, Joey?"
"Four."
"So do I. Stop by the Security Office about 3:30."
"All right!"
Now dressed again, Chris stepped out of the room. I soon followed, after checking to see that there was no sign of our recent activity. An hour later, I knocked at the locked door to the Security Office. Chris was alone, and with a wicked grin he motioned me over to the bank of monitors, pointing to one. As I looked at a high resolution, color image of the president's desk, I could feel the blood rush from my head. I looked at Chris, ready to accuse him of a very foul deed. Before I could speak, he placed a finger on my lips.
"Don't worry. I fixed the monitor so they will think it's broken. I've replaced the tape. Tomorrow, when the tech shows up to fix it, he'll find a blown fuse."
He giggled, and as my heart stopped pounding, so did I. As we began to talk, Chris told me more about himself. I discovered that we had a lot in common, and that he had only moved into town a week before. He was still staying with a sister, until he found an apartment.
As it turned out, my roommate, an incredibly stuck up asshole, and straight, to boot, had moved out a couple of days ago. I needed a new roommate.
At four o'clock, we both left, stopping briefly at my office to leave a note to my boss telling him I would prefer to stay on night duty. Then Chris followed me home, about a mile away.
The next day, I found a note approving my request.