Date: Sun, 14 Sep 2003 03:49:41 +0000
From: Tony Ryan <hotstorylvr@hotmail.com>
Subject: No Gold Watch

This is just a work of fiction. No one living or dead is involved in this
story. Don't read if you aren't over 18. Don't archive or take credit this
(as if you'd want it) without asking me first.

This is just a short little story but I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Thanks.


--

While rummaging through my increasingly empty desk, I found a hand mirror.
Odd how things get in there...not as odd as when I found a 4 Non Blondes CD
wedged in a corner, but still strange. The mirror reflected a man I had
known all my life, yet still felt alien to. The boyish good looks and
sparkling blue eyes had grown hooded and slightly craggy. The broad
shoulders, soaring pectorals and tiny waist had filled out to a functional,
strong, but increasingly bulky frame. The wavy blonde hair had thinned
considerably. I was 45. I was tired. And I was fired.

"Laid off" was the more official term. Either way, I'd been with this
advertising firm since I was fresh out of grad school, had given them my
youth, my time, my good will, my blood, and probably millions of dollars.
They weren't even going to give me a gold watch. With all of the other
department cuts, I knew I wasn't alone, and that I should probably be
grateful to have hung on as long as I did, but being kicked in the teeth
hurts no matter how delayed the connection with the boot is.

At least I didn't have any kids. All I had was Trevor, my partner of 12
years, and he fortunately had a successful business of his own. Maybe he
could give me a job...

My downbeat thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"It's OK," I muttered, throwing a few more trinkets in a cardboard box as my
coworker entered the room. "Your loss, Michael, you get stuck with helping
me carry this shit to my car."

Michael grinned his toothpaste advertisement smile.

"No fucking way, Carl. Maybe I'll push the elevator buttons for your ancient
ass, but that's about all the effort I can give."

God, he was beautiful. His gorgeous Hispanic features gave him the
appearance of a permanent tan. His 6'3" body was lanky, but pure muscle. Set
off by close-cropped black hair and a model's profile, and he was quite the
buzz among the secretaries. From occasional dish sessions I knew his best
feature was hidden away in his ever-form-fitting trousers. He was a shark,
but he was too gorgeous to hate.

He closed the door behind him and slowly approached my desk. His chocolate
brown eyes gleamed with anticipation. He was practically rubbing his hands
in glee. Odd...

"Remember that Christmas party a few years back?"

I nodded. He'd gotten drunk off his very fine ass and flashed the
aforementioned secretaries (half of whom had already sampled all he had to
offer, some of them going back for seconds) in a debauched striptease. I had
walked into the room just as he was fumbling to button his shirt and pull up
his underpants. My memory of that swollen boxer-briefs bulge and glistening
six-pack had sent a very potent load up Trev's tight ass that night.

Michael was now standing right beside me. My face was pressed dangerously
close to his crotch. My own slacks were suddenly very cramped.

"Remember what you wanted to do?"

In that hand mirror I could see myself turning a dozen shades of red.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He laughed. The lightheartedness in his chuckle disarmed most of my inner
alarm systems. Getting away from that package had to be my top priority, but
instead, I found myself moving closer to the material, my nose practically
buried in the fabric.

"Carl, everyone knows you're gay. Not that there's anything wrong with
that..." he muttered in a TV announcer's voice. "You've done a lot for all
of us, helped when nobody asked you too. Now you're just leaving without a
party, without a present, and it sucks. So, in tribute to the dicks
upstairs, why not sample some of the real thing?"

Well, I couldn't argue with that. Or maybe I could and I didn't want to.
This stud had been in my jerkoff fantasies for years. Before I could talk
myself out of this, I cupped the crotch of his dark blue trousers, running
my fingers up and down the ample material. I was a bit in awe, I suppose,
but the door was unlocked, so time was of the essence.

As I unbuckled and unzipped the obtrusive garment, a packed jock pouch came
into view. The taste of the soaked cloth against my tongue was sour but
enticing. I turned him around him to inspect his rear end. Dimpled bubble
butt, the same color as the rest of his immaculate skin. Before I could dive
my tongue in the tempting shitter, he turned back around, lowering his jock
to smack my kid-at-Christmas face with what looked to be 10 impossibly long,
thick inches of uncut horseflesh.

His soft fingers mussed my short hair, briefly tangling in the follicles as
I pulled back his foreskin to sample the pink, plum-sized, well-protected
head. His glans were deliciously sensitive and his pre-cum surprisingly
sweet. My own package was soaking through my briefs by now, rewarded only by
occasional rubs. Most of my attention had to go to this hunky hombre and his
heartstopping cock and big bull balls. I suckled one in my mouth, savoring
the residue buried in each of the coarse hairs which sporadically dotted his
testicles. Both nuts wouldn't fit in my mouth, as much as I tried, so I went
back to his crowning glory.

His moans became overpowering as I deep-throated him. The foreskin was now
fully retracted, and my careful use of teeth and tongue kept his sabre in
complete submission. I knew this had to end soon. I also knew how much I
wanted to see this monster explode. I reluctantly plucked my mouth from his
meat, licking down the veiny underside, running my tongue and fingers up and
down from base to glans, while he cursed in two languages for more. His
buttocks clenched with each new assault on his manhood. Licking a finger, I
impulsively shoved the digit deep inside his virgin hole. He roared in
response. Buckets of semen showered my suit, my hair, my eyes, my face, my
neck. I was literally covered in his cum.

He slapped my face with his flaccid dick a few times before stuffing the
anaconda back in his pants. I scooped the white liquid dripping down my face
until my hands were slick with his juices. I noticed the large wet spot in
my slacks. I'd shot my load and hadn't even realized until now.

Michael smirked when he saw me licking my hands feverishly, like I was his
happy puppy.

"Thanks, chulo, much appreciated."

I swatted his ass as he walked away from the desk. I would probably smell
like sex and sluttiness even after I'd cleaned up, but fuck it...this was my
last day after all.

"Hey, Michael. Keep in touch, OK?"

He winked as he wiped his sweaty brow. "Sure. I never forget a hot mouth."

And then he was gone. What a whore he was. He'd never see me again. Well, no
loss. He'd given me the best gift of all. I may not have a gold watch, but
at least I got a great new pearl necklace.

--

E-mail at HotStoryLvr@hotmail.com