Date: Fri, 19 Oct 2007 05:10:17 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "Brown Shorts Delivery Men" by Jay Roberts   Gay Encounters

==This is not recruitment for UPS or other men who deliver and wear shorts.
If you would like the job, you have to apply like the men in this story.
Incidentally, 18 and over is the requirement to read this story.....sorry
baby.


I am 22 years old.  My name is Gary Watson.  I just graduated Columbia
University with a degree in Personnel Management.  I am partially gay.
What I mean is that I can fuck girls, but my dreams are about guys who
deliver in brown shorts, especially those with sunburned legs, with a nice
show of reddish brown hair.  Oh, my, just writing this makes me pant and my
cock press against the inside of my fly.

I have run across my guys in Malls with their little truck piled with
packages, making stops at different stores.  Oh the cute intent looks on
their manly faces as they figure out the correct address location.

These strong guys all have innocent faces.  I bet they are good in bed
because they can get enthusiastic.  I hope their girl friends suck cock and
like to be eaten because I know my boys like to do it.  Look at their full
lips and red tongues that they pass over their pure white teeth when they
are in a perplexed mood.

Lately they have changed the short lengths.  They used to be really short
and show the full brown upper legs.  Now they seem to have adopted longer
shorts, 9" inseam I think.  What a disappointment, but still you can see
the strong calves above their charmingly droopy brown socks and those
knees.  The plate sometimes has hairs on it.  That is too much to bear.
But all have these wide knees, not bony ones.

I might have spent my life admiring them from a distance (except sometimes
I sneakily walked behind them and captured their sweaty smell drifting
behind them.  Yum.  But an exciting future presented itself.  There was job
opening for assistant personnel manager for a new delivery service and I
applied.  I noted that they were almost violation of copy write laws as
their log was quite similar to the big guy's.  Their trucks were similar as
well as the uniforms of the delivers, except they maintain use of the short
shorts.

I got the job on a six-month trial.  I was to interview prospective hires.
Oh shit, must I?  I was given a small room and a list of names to
interview.  I was told that they have a company policy, no fatties, and no
shorties, referring to height, not what you are thinking in your dirty
minds.

First name on the list was a Walter Neeling.  I poked my head out of the
door and looked around.  Shit, there were five guys waiting and they all
half rose.  "Walter Neeling," I called depressing my voice.  After all I
was only twenty-two and a mere dewy boy with eyes that were too big and too
innocent.  Couple that with my too small rosebud mouth and you know why I
had to speak like the CNN guy.

Walter came in, his baseball cap in his hand, his application indicated he
was thirty-five. Walter was the kind of guy who is sitting next to you in
an Irish policeman's bar and talks only to the bartender.  "Why do you want
to work for us, Walt," I said delineating who was the superior.

"Well son," he said, returning the balance.  "It's a steady job, it's
outdoors, and you can keep in shape hefting those boxes, and you meet some
interesting people."  He winked at that last phrase and included me in to
"interesting" that he really meant weird.  He already lost the job, but I
might as well go on with the routine.

"Walt, slip on these shorts.  We want to see how you will look to the
public.  I take you for a 42 waist?"

"Do you have a changing room?"

"Not necessary, just us guys, go behind that chair."

Actually the big guy slipped off his olive Desert Storm type pants right
out in the room exposing his saggy old washed out briefs.  But they were
clean.  He slipped on the company pants and stood in front of me.  His legs
were a forest of hair, black hair at that.  You could hardly see his knees.
The combination of that and his prejudiced answer knocked him out of the
ball field.  But I couldn't help tormenting him.  "Your legs and strong I
guess for the leg work you have to do.  It's hard to determine that with
all your hairiness.  I don't suppose you have ever thinned it out?"

"Are you kidding?  If I did that I'd be trimming me pubic hair next."  He
said that as if it was the most insane thing in the world, not knowing that
I actually shave mine, well at least Donny the gay barber does it for me
and sucks me off when he is finished.

I shook his sweaty hand, wiped it on my pants as I said, "We'll call you if
we require a second interview."

He shuffled out and I again did my magic trick of poking my heard out.
"Reed Mallory," I was going to add ":Common Down! Like the price is right
but I restrained myself.  A willowy blond stood up, smoothed out his chinos
and strode toward the door that I held open.  He glanced at the sign on my
desk.

"Hey Gary, how they hanging?"  He had the insane idea that since our ages
were about the same, that we could be pals.  I nipped that in the bud,
although I hated to put a frown on his cute face.

"Since we just met, call me Mr. Watson and I'll answer to that."

"Oh, sorry."  He was so sorry he uncrossed his long legs and sat with his
hands on his knees as if in place to start a relay.

"Reed, are you good in math?"

"Naw, but I passed that little test you give."

"Can you lift heavy packages."?

"Year-ah, and I can leap tall buildings with a single....oops, sorry."

This was a fun guy.  Probably a little gay, maybe 33-1/3%.

"Reed, I'm not permitted to ask you this question, but are you..."

"Am I gay?  Gay enough to do anything, anything, to get this job."

He licked his lips suggestively.  Now I wouldn't mind meeting him after the
interviews to tell him that he got the job and what will he do to thank me,
but I wasn't going to make this a casting couch deal.  He did jump when I
said, "Take off you pants boi."

"Ooooh, you are so butch."

"......And put on these company shorts.  You're a 30?"

"Twenty nine, babe."

He pulled them up to emphasize he packed crotch.  Legs excellent, slightly
hairy with blond fuzz.  His knees left a little to be desired, a little too
bony, but the whole effect was coltish and appealing.

"Okay, you can get dressed, you'll likely hear from us.  We need three men
so your chances are good."

"Thanks, now I don't have to get dressed right away.  I could hang out here
and give opinions on the others."

I swatted his ass.  "Out!"

The others where not worth telling about, one smelled from cigars and the
other BO.  There was one applicant left, a Chip Bloom.  I had noticed him
sitting in a dark corner, now it was his turn.  He rose at my beckoning
finger.  Ah, this was a boy to behold.  He had that marine recruitment
poster boy look.  You know, square determined boyish face, close-cropped
red/blonde hair and sturdy body with deep chest, big shoulders and narrow
waist.  Once in my office he stood waiting to be asked to sit.  Good move
on his part.  "Please sit down."  I noted that in choosing the chair, he
picked the one right close to the desk he was showing his lack of fear.

Looking over his resume I noted that he was twenty-three, although he had
the look of an 18 year old high school graduate.  Wow, he had been in the
Marines.  "How long were you in the Marines?"

"About a year."

"What happened?  Any medical problems?"

"Nooooo, well to tell the truth, they say 'don't tell' well I told.  Get
it?"

"Oh I see, then you are gay?"

"Let me put it this way, and I hope this doesn't effect getting the job, I
fuck four ways."

"Four ways?"

"Well I fuck guys, I get fucked by guys, I fuck girls and they fuck me."

"I don't get the last one."

"Strap on.  You ever heard of that?"

"Uh, yes.  How about oral sex?"

"Same thing, except for the last one no strap on, I got a nice long
tongue."

He stuck it out.  I immediately put my hand on my rising crotch to quiet
the jumping there.  He noted it and smiled.  "You want me to get undressed
Mr. Watson?  I know that's the routine, that skinny, blond kid told me."

"Yeah.  You a 30?  Well 32 really since I am out of the service I've been
drinking a few beers a day, but I'm still pretty tight.  Look."  He slid
down he pants and his olive drab marine underwear and patted his perfect,
muscular six-pack.  There was a delicious faint trail of reddish hair
leading from his outy to his luxuriant public hair.

I handed him the brown shorts.  He held this a minute, "I think they will
fit better if I go commando.  Is that okay?"

"Sure," I croaked.

Down went his under shorts revealing a fat prick laying cozily on the
indentation of his hanging balls.  He hefted his balls and rearranged his
dick and then, smiling at me put on the company shorts.  "How they look?"

"Nice," I said also croaking and drawing out the word.  I could see that he
had the whole situation in hand, just like a Marine.  And he smiled
winningly at me with his strong, white teeth.  "Mr. Watson!" he said in a
commanding voice.  "You are ordered to do three things on the double.  One,
lock the door, two tell switchboard to hold calls for an hour, and three
get down and assume the position.  I have a package for you Mr. Watson."

I rushed to do his orders, almost enjoying giving in to him.  I got down on
my knees to fulfill the third order.  His prick was slightly lengthened,
but technically soft.  "Just say 'hah, hah' a few times and heat up my big
guy."

I did it, and like magic his prick began to grow and open up like a those
little Japanese umbrellas they put in drinks.  It grew and grew and lifted
out of the valley in rested on above his ball sac.  As it rose, the sex
scent of the Ex Marine's launching equipment wafted into my nose.  It made
me achingly hard.  "Open your pretty mouth Mr. Watson, show me what you can
do to make me agree to take the job."

The head of his dick was oozing nectar.  I swiped my tongue over the piss
slit and gathered it all.  He made a slight 'humph' sound.  Then I lifted
the organ with my tongue and slipped my lips over the upper part, licking
the head wildly and spiraling my tongue all around it.  His hips moved up
with impatience and his dick entered my steaming mouth a few more inches.
I looked up at him from my position on my knees, his steely military eyes
were narrow slits glinting through the lids.  His mouth was open in a
stupid slack way.  I knew I had him.  All smart Alec bravado had evaporated
and his concentration was on his prick.  I moved my mouth so that the big
guy entered my throat and his luxuriant reddish pubic hair was against my
nose.  I swallowed a few times and he moaned loudly.  "Oh yeah, that's the
way.  You got me more than half-way to a nice hard cum, but you got to earn
it."

I kept him deep, I corkscrewed my tongue, I swallowed rapidly, and then
with my right hand I lifted his heavy balls.  One ball was on the way to
one side of the lower part of the shaft and the other to the other side.
They gradually migrated until they were about a quarter of the way,
decorating each side of his shaft.  I stroked those bulging balls, I licked
them, I pulled on his thickening sac and moved it back and forth.  Suddenly
the wealth sensation I bestowed on him had their effect.  His boyish mouth
was drooling spit, his eyes were closed tightly and his facial expression
was no long a handsome guy, but a mask of almost unendurable passion to
cum.  I took my mouth away for a moment, "Cum you bastard.  Why don't you
cum."

"I need a little pain, like in boot camp."

"Okay, I can do it."

I put my mouth back on his cock and bottomed it, but with my right hand
drawn back I released it to a sharp smack on his manly cheek.  His eyes
flew open and they began tearing.  "Too hard boy?'

He kind of blubbered a bit.  "Yes, but I deserve.  Do it again."

I knew that this second slap would make him cum.  I slurped hard on it and
then slapped his other cheek.  His body began humping my face.  I tasted
the first sweet spray of cum, then a second.  His body was leaping and his
cock was delivering.  It was a monumental moment.  My cock began to spew
into my dress pants but I didn't care.  I loved his cries of helpless
passion.  A boy who always seems to be in charge is often the most helpless
boy when he is in the throes.

He sagged back on the chair.  "Hell Gary, you are A number one in cock
sucking.  You earned the Good Conduct Medal.  I am drained and weak." Then
he grinned, "It might take me a full five minutes before we can do it
again.  But let me ask."

"Yes you got the job.  It's late now.  How about having a hamburger with me
and then coming up to my place for some company instruction?"

"Yeah, we can try out two of my fuck talents, getting and giving."

End

I don't recommend mixing professional duties with sex, but this is allowed
in a Nifty story...right?