From: supine@bway.net (kurt h.) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.gay,alt.sex.stories Subject: My New Job (M/M) Date: Fri, 07 Jun 1996 00:58:55 -0400 Organization: bway.net, part of Outernet, Inc. in New York City Lines: 105 Message-ID: <supine-0706960058550001@dial56.bway.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: dial56.bway.net My New Job Another man would have looked forward to his next Sunday morning when parishioners would gather at his knees, drop open their warm mouths and await delivery of the Eucharist. But, weary of the priesthood, I resigned and got a job with a trash removal company. I had pursued body building and become quite big already. I was already dark--dark eyes, olive skin, and ever darkening stubble on my cheeks and jaw--and I'd learned how to stay quiet--but God wanted me to become big as well. I woke early for my first day of trash removal. As the first morning light bathed my little kitchen with blue light, I stood before the mirror. My tight tank top was impeccably white, the better to contrast with my heavy, dark chest and shoulder hair. I lay my meaty hands atop my warm pectorals and slid them down to my tight belly. I wore a jock strap and black leather chaps with no pants, plainly exposing my buttocks. I turned my backside towards the mirror and tried to glimpse the effect as I slung my hips from side to side. It seemed fine. I'd been told to report to a lot in the west '50's. Dozens of trucks idled as their crews milled and drank coffee in take-out cups. I found the dispatcher in a little shack behind a green metal desk. He was blind, so my outfit, calculated to make a strong effect, was no use. He had little to say to me. I would work a certain route. I was not to speak to union organizers. Good bye. I picked up a paper weight and moved it to the other side of his desk. Get out, said the dispatcher, returning it to its place. I walked around the desk and bent over, thrusting my bare behind into his face. After a moment's pause, I felt his warm tongue begin to explore the area, beginning behind my ball sack and delicately working its way up. He parted the matted hairs guarding my hole and began to softly lick the rim. I gasped as I felt myself getting an erection. The dispatcher became more involved, frenching my butthole with the thick of his tongue. At that moment, another fellow entered the office, a hard-bitten gray haired fellow with a couple of coffees in a cardboard tray. He quickly assessed the situation and locked the door of the shack to prevent further visitors. You're new, huh? he said. I nodded from my bent over position. He stood in front of me and opened the fly of his jeans. A dark erection with a pronounced curve to the left slunk out. He fed it to me gradually. There really wasn't much time, as my truck had been scheduled to begin its route ten minutes earlier. I quickly brought my new colleague to orgasm, and then, with a mouthful of come, turned to the dispatcher and gave him a deep kiss. In fact I was in a bit of trouble. My truck had left already, and I spent some time running through the streets trying to catch up with it. I felt I had made a good impression on the administrative staff, so it pained me to think that I was starting off on the wrong foot with the crew I was to work with. They were furious and refused to acknowledge me for some time. I felt awful. And so I began my labors with a heavy heart. Over time, though, I gained the trust of these hard working men. Indeed, the crew for my garbage truck became inordinately fond of me. Francis, the driver, would often begin the day by throwing me against the large plush animal tied to the front of the truck and then grind his crotch into mine, giving me a deep kiss, full of cigarette aroma. Sometimes I tried to lead his throbbing cock towards my anxious hole, but he would just chuckle and say, Hey, I save that for the wife. There was another fellow, Jerome. Like me, he lumbered up and down the sidewalks dragging garbage cans back to the truck. I felt as though we were brothers, twin brothers, mighty, glistening with sweat, strong and beautiful, in the face of the stink blasting from the back of the garbage truck. As the day would grow long and our limbs sore, we would nod to each other in the instant before the two of us, symmetrically, would empty the next pair of trash cans. One summer morning Francis ignored our route entirely, driving us down to a deserted expanse of the waterfront. He pulled the truck off the street behind a gutted warehouse. Jerome stared at me strangely as Francis took off his filthy gloves and stepped down from the cab. Without warning Jerome pushed me down to the ground. "Sorry, brother," he said, sneering. I was perplexed but intrigued. "I hope you don't mind," he said, binding my wrists together. Francis explored my bulging crotch with his workboot. I didn't mind. Once I'd been stripped naked, I became aware of the number of fleas inhabiting the clumps of weeds surrounding me. I squirmed. "My wife," said Francis, "she's out of town." He slid over me, resting my legs over his shoulders. "You're gonna have my baby, Father," he said. And he opened the fly of his overalls and quickly slid ten inches of painfully thick meat into my worried hole. As Francis accelerated his sphincter-ripping thrusts, Jerome crouched over my head, and held my mouth open with his gloved hand and began to gob his spit into my mouth. I was going wild. I could feel my iron hard dick thicken and rear its head as orgasm prepared to discharge. A gloved hand covered my mouth and nose. I flew into a panic, struggling to breathe freely. At about the moment I was going to pass out, the hand was removed. Francis planted his mouth on mine, digging his tongue deep into my dizzy throat. He was coming. I was coming. My chest was covered with a torrent of thick amber come. Jerome had lost interest and was off smoking a cigarette. Francis untied me, and wiped me down with his handkerchief, which was clean. We lay next to each other, my arm draped around his shoulder, watching the clouds. That I night I jerked off, thinking about how it would be if I were Francis' wife. I imagined him suckling my nipples till he could taste my blood, choking me till he was fucking my lifeless corpse. The next day, there was a little more garbage than usual on our route, but no one seemed to have noticed our absence the day before. --------------------------------------------------- (c)1996 Kurt Hoffman http://www.bway.net/~supine/y.html