Date: Mon, 15 Oct 2012 04:58:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: islandalleykat@yahoo.com
Subject: Alley Kat Tails

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.