03-"The Security Guard" by Texas PhoneMan
THIS STORY CONTAINS GAY MALE EROTICA WHICH SHOULD ONLY BE READ BY PERSONS OVER THE AGE OF 18 AND NOT OFFENDED BY SUCH CONTENT
Copyright 2004--may be used with permission of author texas_phoneman@hotmail.com
This story is based on events(?) which took place on a Saturday afternoon in July, 2004.
I impatiently rang the bell at the main entrance of the Medical Building. As though repairing a business phone was not enough on Saturday--it was even more difficult when the business hours were Monday thru Friday. Besides--I had already made a stop here earlier in the day and got no answer--but the customer had called the Repair Center and said that she was there now and had advised the security guard that I would be showing up. I do NOT like working retrips--but I was only a couple blocks away when the call came in.
I waited at the door and caught my reflection in the dark-tinted glass. Hardhat, sunglasses, open-necked shirt, tool belt, jeans (that were a bit too tight) and work boots. "Sheesh," I thought to myself, "I look like one of the fucking Village People!"
I noticed movement through my reflection and saw the security guard approach. Not an armed, uniformed guard--but a business security officer--shiny black shoes, beige dress slacks, blue blazer, white shirt and tie. His key clicked in the lock and he pushed the door open for me and said with a smile, "I've been waiting for you."
"Gee, " I said, "I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"I haven't really been waiting--but Margaret has been calling me every 5 minutes wondering if you had shown up. Hang on a second and I'll take you up to her office." With that he relocked the door and started towards the elevators.
"Well, I really need to start in the equipment room first--it's right around the corner from the elevators here."
"Sure thing." he said as he headed around the corner. During the short walk I noted the man was about 30...apparently a nice "mix" of African-American and Latino--dark, short-cropped hair, caramel-colored skin and a pair of sexy, dark brown eyes.
He opened the door to the machine room and walked in clicking the light on as he went. I followed him in and said, "This is where I need to start." I walked up to a 6 by 8-foot backboard which held the terminations of approximately 600 telephone lines to the building.
"How on earth do you know what you're doing with all of this?" he asked as he scanned the hundreds of wires.
"It's quite simple once you know what you're doing." I said. I pointed to the main feeder cable where it came into the room from the underground and showed him how it led to the protectors. I had to explain that protectors were a lot like fuses or breakers on an electric line. A power surge or lightning strike would be arrested at this point and not affect the customers equipment. Then I showed him the termination blocks.
"This is cable 922 and the first block here", I said pointing to a group of pins, carries pairs 501 to 550. There's 25 numbers on the left and 25 numbers on the right. They're the binding posts and are numbered 1 to 50 so an assignment of cable 922, pair 501, binding post 1 would be right here." I said as I pointed to the first pin in the first block. "From there it goes to the house cable--all of these blocks on the right, which distributes them to a terminal on each floor and from there it goes to the jack."
He kind of shook his head and I realized I had probably given him way too much information. I concluded with, "So much for your crash course in telecommunications."
"Well, I'll just let you do it. Sounds too complicated to me." He headed for the door and added, "I'll give Margaret a call and tell her that you're here. I'll be outside if you need me."
"No problem--thanks a lot." I said as I prepared to test the customer's line.
He left, closing the door behind him. I took a deep breath and whispered to myself, "Whew....that is one nice-looking man!"
I found the trouble on the customers line in the network meaning I needed to make a change in the feeder cable. Even though it was Saturday and no one was available in the central office to make the changes, I would have to make a cut to a new pair in the cable. If I was lucky, the cut would flow with no rewiring necessary--if not, I would have to wait for the "rover attendant" to make a stop at the central office.
The cut went through with no rewiring necessary. I reconnected my customer and then my mind went back to that hot security guard just around the corner. Then I got an idea and I had some spare time to kill...
I walked out to where he was sitting and explained that everything was done from my end and I just had to wait for someone to make the wiring changes at the central office. "So it looks like you're stuck with me for a while whether you like me or not."
"Doesn't bother me at all." he replied. "In fact, I can use the company. Not much traffic in the building today."
We started with small talk about my job, his job and other "generic and safe" conversations. I found out his name was Ralph and a few other unnecessary tidbits of information. Then he hit the "right' question.
"You have any kids?"
I looked at him and smiled. "Kids? Hell I don't have time for a wife much less kids."
"You're not married?" he asked with a bit of surprise in his voice.
I replied, "Nope. I've been too busy working to even look for a wife."
"I see."
I knew I was 'twisting the screw' when I added, "Well, there are other reasons, too--but we won't go into those right now. Hey, let me go check and see if that dial tone has come up yet."
I thought that would be a good time to leave him alone to try and figure out what the "other reasons" were. I went back to the machine room and my customers dial tone was still there. Then I thought I needed to add a little "spice" to the encounter--so I unzipped the fly on my jeans about two-thirds of the way down and returned to the security guard's office and sat back down in the chair at the door.
Suddenly I felt as though I was back at square one. More chit-chat about the telephone company and other things.... and he didn't seem to be asking me anything that I could "twist" nor did he notice (or make mention of) my open fly. I decided it was my turn. The next time I got up to (supposedly) check on the dial tone, I "noticed" that my fly was open. I said, "Well, hell--I thought I felt a draft. My fly's open. Damn there's nothing worse than a gay man with an open fly." With that I disappeared around the corner to the equipment room.
I had just dropped a bombshell and soon I would know what the reaction would be. After a few minutes, I returned to my chair outside of his office and said, "Nothing yet--but it shouldn't be too much longer."
"You're gay?" he asked, looking right into my eyes.
"As a three-dollar bill..." I paused then added (to relieve any 'tension" in the air), "Wait--'gay as a three-dollar bill? Whatever. Been this way ever since I can remember. Hell, even when I was 6 or 7--I found myself looking in the Sears catalog at the men's underwear. I wasn't checking out the styles--I wanted to know what was in those bulges."
'Damn....I never would have guessed that."
I smiled, "I'll take that as a compliment. But what can I say? I like to suck dick." I stopped abruptly realizing that last statement may have been too much. I had to let him steer the conversation now.
He was quiet for a few seconds, and then spoke, "Damn. My wife and I separated a few weeks ago and this conversation is getting me excited."
(Let me tell you--that WAS the correct response!)
I glanced down at my own crotch that was now stirring with signs of life. "Yeah, it's about to do the same to me and I've got work to do." I paused for a beat--then I moved in for the kill. "But I'll suck your dick for ya sometime. I've been told I'm pretty good but I've never been able to bend over far enough to try on myself."
"Really?" he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Sure. Remember I said that I like sucking dick."
"Let's go!", he said.
Without thinking or reacting to the sudden turn of events, I said, "Okay." and we started for the mechanical room. We entered and I pushed the door closed behind us. He took a couple steps into the room and turned to face me while unbuckling his belt. I shucked the hard hat as I lowered myself to my knees in front of him.
His slacks were loose-fitting so when they were opened they crumpled into a pile around his ankles leaving me facing a pair of red (Red??) boxer shorts with this thick, hard, 7-inch, uncut cock jutting through the open fly. I wasn't about to pass that up...I pulled the foreskin back and pressed his throbbing cock through my lips and all the way to the back of my throat. He instinctively grabbed both sides of my head and began sliding his cock in and out of my hungry mouth.
"Oh, damn, man--you ARE good." he said. Soon I had his boxers pulled down and was licking his swollen balls. He spread his legs a bit and I began to lick the sweet spot under his nut sack and he moaned loudly. His cock was throbbing and dancing--demanding attention. I, once again, took his cock deeply in my mouth and he proceeded to gently face-fuck me. His thrusting suddenly became more violent and his cock started to swell and his nut sack tighten.
"Man, I'm gonna cum!" and with that, I felt blast after blast of hot manjuice hit the back of my throat. His thrusting returned to gentle as I made sure I had sucked every drop out of him.
His hard cock began to subside and I stood up. "Five minutes and we'll do that again."
He was breathing hard and pulling up his slacks when His answer surprised me. "Okay. But I need to check back at the security station."
"Yeah.... and it looks like Margaret's dialtone is finally here." I said glancing at my still-connected meters and equipment. "I need to go talk to her. I'll be out in a few."
"Take your time.", he said as he left the machine room.
I rang for the elevator and waved at the security guard. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
After talking to Margaret and confirming that everything was working okay, I headed down the elevator to the first floor. Ralph heard the elevator and stepped out of his office. "Everything okay?", he asked.
"Yep. Margaret is happy because she has her telephone service back and you're happy because..... well....." I looked at him and smiled. "I'll be back. I've got to collect my stuff." He followed me back into the equipment room and he pushed the door closed. "You ready to go again?" This time the surprise was in my voice.
"You betcha. Man, I've NEVER felt anything that good." he said.
"Well, they say that men give better blowjobs than women. Maybe it's because we know what feels good or maybe the unique sensation of a mustache tickling in the right places."
By this time, I had unbuttoned my shirt and my fly was open. I was squeezing my throbbing cock in anticipation. I had gotten "into position"--on my knees in front of him. The slacks as well as the red (RED??) boxers slid down to his ankles. There was this nice cock in front of me... again... and just as hard as a rock... again! To add a little variety, this time I didn't aim for the cock but, instead went for the balls. One at a time I gently sucked each ball. He lifted his foot away from his crumpled slacks and boxers and spread his legs wide while letting out a loud groan as I gently bit and pulled on his nut sack. Then I pulled out all the stops.
While licking his sweet spot this time, I turned around and sat down on the cold, cement floor while pulling him down into my face as I did. I grabbed his firm buttcheeks and spread them. My tongue, like a striking rattlesnake, attacked his musky-scented asshole. My tongue prodded, pushed, pried and shoved trying to break through that tight little hole.
"Aaaaaahhhhhh, FUCK, MAN!!" echoed through the room. At that point I felt a strong, masculine grip engulf my throbbing cock. He had taken advantage of his bent-over position right above my cock. He began stroking it not knowing how much I LOVE the feel of a man's hand on my cock. I returned the favor by grabbing and jacking his throbbing cock while my tongue continued its assault on his asshole.
He was jacking my cock feverishly. I knew I wouldn't last long, and since I hadn't cum, I could already feel my nuts boiling. Between tongue-probes I managed to muffle out, "Fuck, man, I'm cumming!!"
"I am too!", he said as he squeezed my cock harder and stroked it faster. I blew my load--straight up. Some of my cum landed on the head of my cock and he used it as lube to finish out my orgasm. He continued to squeeze my cock through his cum-covered hand--not unlike milking a cow. This was almost more than my now-super-sensitive cockhead could take. My entire body shook and trembled from one aftershock to another.
His cock swelled up and he groaned as he shot another load. As he did, the muscles around his ass relaxed and my tongue pierced his rosebud. His knees were shaking and he moved his hand away from my cock to the floor to maintain his balance. His manhole tightened and relaxed with each blast of cum that he shot.
All too soon--it was over until next time. I laid out on the floor...bluejeans open, breathing heavy, and my cum-covered dick slowly dying. He stepped away and turned and looked at me sprawled out on that hard, cement floor. All I could say was, "Uncle!"
He started to pull his pants up and realized his right hand was still glistening with cum. He glanced around looking for something to wipe his hand on when I offered him my handkerchief. "Oh, I don't want to mess that up.", he said.
"Go ahead. I'll have something to remember you by." I said with a wink.
He wiped his hand on my handkerchief and handed it back to me. I returned it to my hip pocket and we both continued putting our clothes back on. It was that "clumsy" time when neither knows what to say.
I broke the silence, "I haven't had that much fun without laughing for a long time." (Sometimes, the old "standby lines" work just fine!).
"I'll be honest with you.", he said. "You're not the first guy I've ever done anything with, but, with my marriage and the monogamy and all that.....it's been so long, I had forgotten how good man to man sex can be."
"Well, if you like, I'll give you my number. Think of it: Just good sex with no dinner, no movie, no romance--any time you like."
He smiled. "Hell, I can't pass up an offer like that!"
End
PostScript: He didn't pass up that offer. He still calls me occasionally and we get together and relive this "machine room drama"--only now it's in the comfort of his king-size bed. He'll never be gay--he likes his women too much. That doesn't bother me...I've now got one helluva "suck buddy".
Copyright 2004--may be used with permission of author texas_phoneman@hotmail.com