Date: Fri, 29 Jan 2016 17:36:27 +0000 (UTC)
From: anonymous.a
Subject: Loading Up at the Loading Dock

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This is a work of fiction. All persons are intended to be age 18 and above.


Loading Up at the Loading Dock

By anonymous.a

I got out of the car and gazed at the business across the street, and I saw
him.

Red hair. Baseball cap. Tall, slender frame. A pear-shaped ass that filled
those corduroys to near-bursting – he always wore corduroys for some
reason, never jeans. In the summer it was well-worn cargoes. His ass cheeks
had a way of jumping up and down as he walked, as if the muscles were
exaggerating the effort of taking a step.

I was in love ... make that lust.

He had worked at the loading dock of the tile and flooring center across
the street since high school, but now he was out of school and presumably
saving money for college. How did I know this? Beats me. I'm guessing. All
I know is he was there a couple of summers, then gone for the winter, and
now he is there all year.

I first noticed him driving a forklift, loading pallets of tile into the
beds of pickup trucks and trailers of 18-wheelers. He was a fresh face
among the hard noses of the other store workers, the older men with sagging
bellies and dirty Levis who propped their asses against the back wall and
smoked while the kid did all the work. The first time I saw him get out of
that forklift and walk into the warehouse through the loading dock, I was
smitten. That beautiful, muscular ass begged a guy like me to plunge his
face into the crack tongue-first and start slurping. I don't know why it is
that some guys bring out the rimmer in me – my coworker's son, Andrew,
is one of 'em. I've had my tongue on every square inch of his body below
the belt, but mostly on his asshole. I even jammed the tip of my nose up
his hole one hot afternoon in the men's room. But hey, that's another
story.

The kid across the street – and I say "kid" not in the sense of a child,
for he was every bit a man, just younger than I by a generation – was
something to look forward to every day as I went to work at the graphic
arts company where I am an editor. I kept on eye on him, trying to figure
out which car was his, what time he arrived and left work for the day, who
he talked to ... I guess I'm a little OCD about those things. But they're
how I figure out if a guy is approachable or irretrievably straight. Even
in this day and age, when gender orientations are accepted and for the most
part agnostic, some straight guys become belligerent if you come on to
them.

During the work day I put the kid out of my thoughts, but as I walk to the
men's room, something I do about a thousand times a day because I drink
that many cups of coffee, I peek out the window to see if he's out
there. Sometimes I'm rewarded with his perky little ass jumping up and down
as he strolls back to the loading dock. God, my imagination runs wild with
that. The things I could show him!

It was without any hidden agenda that I headed across the street late one
afternoon – closing time for the tile store – to hit the ATM up
front. It just happened to belong to my bank, which meant I could make
withdrawals without being hit with a fee. I saw no point in driving over
because it was literally across the street, assuming I could cross said
street without being mowed down by a driver more intent on thumbing text
messages than watching the road.

After I got my cash I was walking back to my building when I saw him just
outside the loading dock door, one of those metal monstrosities mounted on
tracks that come down out of the ceiling. He had hold of a strap and was
about to pull it down.

"Hey, hold up!" I shouted and jogged over to the loading dock. This was the
first time I had seen him close up and I carefully catalogued his
features. Definitely young, probably in the 20 to 22 years old range. His
ginger hair was almost curly but not quite, and just long enough to touch
his ears. He was wearing a ballcap from some trucking company, a Green
Lantern T-shirt with long sleeves, and cargoes. The one turn-off? White
athletic socks that came halfway to his knees. I didn't know they even sold
those kinds of socks anymore.

"I'm thinking of having my kitchen re-done and wondered if you'd let me
take a look at some of the samples you guys sell." I know; lame. But it was
the only reasonable explanation for chatting with him I could come up with
off the top of my head.

He seemed to ponder this. "We're closed for the day," he said, his voice no
longer boyish but not quite matured into an adult purr, "but I guess they
wouldn't mind if I let you take a quick look. You'll have to come in
through here. The front doors are locked and everybody's gone home."

I wasted no time entering the storage area. The forklift was parked off to
the side; otherwise the room was filled with pallet after pallet of tile
and other kinds of flooring.

"I'll have to close this," he said, and pulled down the loading dock door
with a loud metallic clatter. "You wouldn't believe how fast some people
steal stuff."

Then he went on ahead of me, pointing out the various kinds of tile, their
virtues and liabilities. I wasn't really listening. I was watching that
grab-able ass of his. It was every bit as gorgeous up close as I had
imagined it.

We stopped and he said in a friendly voice, "Well? See anything you like?"

"Yes," I told him. "You!"

He looked at me in complete bafflement. Then, awareness slowly crept into
his expression, and he smiled uncertainly. "Ah," he finally said. "Well,
that's flattering but I'm not really into guys."

"Are you into blowjobs?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Sure. Who isn't. But I'm not sure I want to get one from a
guy."

"That's what most straight guys say, until they actually get one from a gay
guy. Then they can't get enough. You know why? Because a guy knows what
feels good to another guy. And he can do the things he knows feel good to
another guy – blowjobs and other things."

"Yeah? Like what?"

I gave him a sly smile. "You ever have your ass eaten out?"

"No!" he snorted, almost embarrassed. But he seemed to linger on the idea,
as if it were something he'd always wanted to have done to him but either
didn't know anybody who would do it or was too afraid to ask."

"Drop your shorts and bend over this stack of tile," I whispered. "Nobody's
here. Nobody will ever know, except you and me. And trust me – you will
never forget it."

He stood there looking at me, desire warring with caution. I let him do
that a moment, then gently took his shoulder in hand, led him to the pallet
of tile, and as non-threateningly as I could, unsnapped his cargoes and
slid them down his hips. Underneath he was wearing plaid boxers. I pulled
them down to. Then I pushed him down, over the tile, until his ass was
exposed.

"Can you step out of those shorts?" I asked. He was wearing athletic shoes,
which didn't want to go through the leg openings. I helped him and got the
shorts off one leg. I left the other in place. I told him, "Move your feet
apart a little bit." He did and his crack, and that wonderful nexus of
pleasure, his asshole, came into view.

God. It was more beautiful than I had ever pictured it mentally. A
perfectly symmetrical pucker of wrinkled pink flesh, very clean, surrounded
by a dusting of bright orangish-red hair. I leaned in close and breathed
deeply through my nose. His funk was powerful, an alluring mιlange of
sweat, butt smell and hormones. I could feel my dick hardening as I took in
the sight and aroma of his ass, and I could not believe that finally, after
all these months of looking and wishing, I was finally getting to do the
thing I had dreamed of doing.

I exhaled on my hands to warm them up, then placed them on his thighs,
enjoying the bristly sensation of his leg hairs. I ran them up to that
massive ass in front of my face and spread his cheeks apart, so that my
target bloomed into view.

Dear God, I couldn't stand the suspense any longer. I buried my face in his
crack.

His flesh was sticky and clung to my cheeks as I ran my tongue up and down,
then around and around his anus. The taste was salty with a sharp, tangy
afterbite, not quite the same as his smell. I ran my nose up and down the
valley of his crack as my tongue did its job, cleaning each side of his
crack, lapping up all the stickiness and replacing it with a thin layer of
saliva. I formed my tongue into a point and stabbed repeatedly at his
butthole. On one attempt he relaxed ever so slightly and my tongue found
purchase, extending slightly into his rectum.

I heard him moan, a low, sensuous expression of sexual gratification that
compelled me to further assault his anus. He began pushing back, then up
and down, against my tongue. My roaming hands found his cock, and at one
point I dove below his ass to lick his balls. By this time my own cock was
rampaging in my pants, leaking pre-cum like a faucet not properly shut off.

I had to do something about that.

I removed a hand from his priceless ass and fetched a tube of lube from my
pants pocket. Then I undid the clasp on my slacks and slowly pushed them
down until my cock sprang free. The cooler air outside my pants was a
relief. It seemed to further harden my cock. I was going to do this. It was
no longer an issue of desire, but need. I needed to be inside him, and now.

I lubed up a finger and began working at his sphincter. Meanwhile, my
tongue continued its assault on his testicles, and my other hand worked his
dick, which was also dribbling prodigious amounts of pre-cum. My finger
slid in and the red-haired kid moaned anew, as if marveling the discovery
of this new source of pleasure. His insides were hot, like a furnace. I
moved my finger around, loosening his butthole, then withdrew and lubed my
index and middle finger. I slid the two of them together into his
rectum. The fit was tighter but they managed to slide in without painful
resistance. The kid spread his legs and pushed his cock against the stack
of tile, forcing it down. That elicited a volley of licks from me that
spread to his balls, now compressed to either side of his dick.

It was time.

I stood. I spread a generous dollop of lube on my cock and made sure it was
covered in its entirety. Then I positioned it against his recently invaded
hole.

The resistance was considerable, so I waited until I could feel the muscles
relaxing. When that happened I pushed gently and was rewarded with
penetration. He seemed to tighten again, but the cycle of relaxation
arrived and I pushed again. This time the head of my cock slid in and
settled inside the ring of muscle surrounding his asshole.

"Oh God," he whispered hoarsely as I continued pushing. I wasn't letting
this opportunity escape me. My cock was on fire now, hard as a steel rod,
and watching it disappear into this kid's ass was almost more than I could
stand.

Finally I could push no more. I had bottomed out. I looked down and could
not see my cock. It was in him all the way.

I began a gentle fucking motion, not that I really needed to. I could have
cum right then and there. But I wanted this to be good for him too, so I
slid my cock in and out, not very far at first. But when it became obvious
he was enjoying the sensation I increased the length of my stroke, pulling
my cock almost to the point of exiting his ass, then plunging it back
in. He stuck his ass out, which produced clearance between his cock and the
stack of tile. I used that to my advantage, reaching around his thighs with
both hands. I grabbed his dick with my right hand and cupped his balls with
my left, and as I fucked him I jerked his cock and fondled those hairy
goose eggs.

I fucked him for a good 5 minutes. That wasn't very long, I know, but he
felt so good sliding on and off my cock I couldn't hold out any longer. I
felt that familiar knot of pleasure gathering at the base of my spine, and
as it escalated and threatened to go out of control I buried my cock as
deeply into his ass as I could push it. Pulse after pulse of hot semen shot
into his guts, and as soon as that first injection shot out his own cock
began to spasm hot jets of cum. I could feel it through his dick as he
gasped to the rhythm of his orgasm.

We remained in that position for about a minute as my cock emptied my balls
inside him and his cock ceased its spasming to a dribble. Then I eased out
and backed away, my skin ungluing from his. His hole was now red and
runnels of pearly white cum dribbled out to land on the cement floor of the
storage area. More trails of slimy cum dribbled down the side of the
plastic sheeting that covered the tile pallet.

I grabbed a rag from a nearby pallet and wiped off my dick. Then I used it
to wipe his ass for him. He seemed content to stand there, his sweaty ass
exposed, his steamy hole pulsing like a thing that needed to catch its
breath.

"You've been very helpful," I said brightly, pulling up my slacks, tucking
in my shirt and doing the zipper. He looked back at me over his
shoulder. His eyes were heavy lidded, as if he were coming down from a
buzz, and a goofy smile creased his expression.

"I'll be sure to let your bosses know you're a good employee."

And then I winked as he slowly pulled up his cargoes.

"And I'll insist that you come to my house to install the tile."

---

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