This story, a truncated version of one originally titled “Big Brutha’s Always Watching”, published in 2003, contains graphic descriptions of man-to-man sexual gratification and is intended for a mature audience.
There I was---right up there on the video screen in all my hunky glory---getting ram-charged up the ass by Mark, the straight and separated-from-his-wife bread delivery guy at the supermarket where I worked. Face down, spread across a bank of shopping carts out on the back loading dock, my thick, stubby fingers were entwined in the metal of the uncomfortable carts and holding on for dear life as hot, hung Mark plowed the living fuck out of me. Both our pants were down around our ankles. It might have been after closing time, but anybody could've come around the back of the building and caught us up atop the carts rutting like dogs---so we had to be ready to hop off and haul up our jeans at a moment's notice. As it turned out, we fucked undisturbed. Mark was every bit the stud I figured him to be and I went home with a satisfyingly sore asshole. How the fuck was I supposed to know that there were two security cameras out on the dock recording our sweaty encounter from multiple angles?
My name is Rafe. Sound macho? Well, I am. I'm not one of those sissy boys, and I don't advertise it, but I like a nice hard cock plugging my hole every now and again. Like one plunging down my throat, too. And I get off swallowing another dude's hot load fresh out of his ball bag. But there is nobody---and I do mean NOBODY---at home or work who would suspect me of being a cock hound. Not that I would have denied it; it's just that nobody ever had reason to ask. In high school I was your average, all-around jock type into all varieties of sports. Shit, I was a shoo-in for the football, softball and basketball teams all through my academic years. I might be a bit short (5'7") but I'm a strong, stocky little sonofabitch. If you were to combine a soccer stud, tough linebacker and a humpy wrestler dude you'd pretty much have me pegged. Dark, almost black hair which I keep real short, the top gelled forward to create those trendy high wispy bangs right near the forehead. Eyelashes also dark as coal, they look like I paint them on all the way around with that liner/mascara shit the girls use. Not me---I don't do none of that sissy stuff, and wouldn't have to anyways. Just have a large silver hoop earring in each lobe---but there's nothing' emasculating about that. Also got me a pair of really full lips (kind of like the bruthas) with the lower one more prominent and forever pouting. Have one of those charcoal jawlines, too. No matter how many times a day I shave it always looks like I could use another. All the cunts think I'm hot-looking'---but aloof. I could probably get most any twat I wanted; only problem is that I don't want!
What I wanted this past long, hot summer was Mark, although convinced I would never nail him. True, he'd been married for years but I know from past experience that a wedding ring means nothing when the cock is throbbing from lack of attention. In actuality, I'd been observing this dude almost daily for the past two years I'd been working at the market but, for some inexplicable reason, my attraction to him was only recently sparked. He was good looking in an almost rugged type of way: tall, tight and perpetually tanned, very masculine and decidedly sexy. In all that time he'd been delivering and packing out Little Devil Snacks in the market I probably must have passed by him hundreds of times---but barely spoke a few words to him. I've got this useful talent for looking right past, even though, a person but believe me I'm looking when he isn't. And I'd checked out Mark more than once; must have jerked off to his image at least half a dozen times.
Once again, I don't know exactly what it was that pushed the macho buck to the forefront of my sexual desire but, suddenly, he was everything my parched throat thirsted for. I began making more careful observations of him---like the way he wore his hair. It was always the same: light brown, buzzed short on the sides and back and fuller on top, always neat and rarely out of place. Except that now, under closer scrutiny, I noticed the few---very few---speckles of gray at his temples. Mark was late thirties but looked about five to seven years younger. Other than those slashes of gray and the fine sun crinkles at the corner of his eyes, he probably could've passed for very late twenties, which would have brought him a little closer to my twenty-two years. I sweat older guys; prefer them, in fact. They seem to fuck a whole lot more forceful than dudes in my age group.
He also had a sexy little gap between his two front teeth, which made him all the more ruggedly appealing. You'd never really notice it unless you were up close to the stud engaged in conversation. I'd heard him talking to some of the other guys waiting for their goods to be checked in at the receiving dock and knew that he was a Yankee fan. I'm a Mets fan myself, but I took to catching a few Yankee games just so I could throw a few team stats his way and get the dude's attention. He was a friendly, talkative type; I'd known that for a while by the way he interacted with the managers and some of the other everyday workers. Guess when you're driving around in a truck all day making deliveries here and there you welcome some friendly chit chat with the help. Like I said, I'm not the overly sociable type but my hormones were working on overdrive and if there was any fucking chance of getting into that stud's jock I had to at least be sociable with him.
Every summer season he and all the other hot bread vendors wore little more than tank tops or T-shirts and shorts while making their deliveries. I nearly popped a woodie in my standard black jeans every time I happened past his display and saw the hot stud squatting down to reach a low shelf, those tan khaki shorts framing his tight, masculine glutes and strong, hairy thighs. Riding around all day, getting in and out of their trucks and hauling their goods in the hot summer sun made the bodies on those dudes nice and sweaty. Tank and T's were practically clinging to their masculine torsos, especially the ones making afternoon deliveries (which was Mark's usual arrival time). The super-chilly air conditioning in the store worked to make their man tits rock hard and clearly visible as they pressed against the thin cotton material of the sweaty shirt.
It was a real hot one the day Mark caught me red-handed checking out his hunky bulk. Guess it was the heat that made me lose my usual concentration or---who knows---maybe I wanted to get caught already. I was on my fifteen-minute break, leaning back against a seldom used cash register station flipping through a magazine---but not looking at the magazine at all. I was looking at hot Mark directly across from me down on one knee shoving his wares onto the end aisle display. There was a big, diamond-shaped wet spot on the back of his faded blue tank top and further evidence of manly perspiration around the neckline and deep arm holes. What had me licking my juicy chops most of all was the telltale wet mark running straight down the seam of those khaki shorts that molded his buns so perfectly. I was fucking mesmerized by the ball churning sight in front of me, my eyes secretly stripping him bare and my tongue almost tasting the sweaty maleness of his ripened crack.
Don't know how long I was standing there openly ogling him, oblivious to the magazine in my hands or the presence of passing customers, but all of a sudden I became aware that my cock had stiffened and was pounding against the front of my black jeans. At that same instant I realized Mark was no longer putting his product out; he had half-turned from his kneeling position on the tiled floor and was looking right at me with an incredulous expression on his rugged face! My own face reddened as I snapped out of my lusty reverie, averting his eyes and fumbling with the magazine which had slipped from my hands. I practically fell over my own feet in my haste to distance myself from the straight stud, convinced he'd seen the outline of my hard on and knew I'd been entertaining sexual thoughts about him. Damn-it-all-to-hell; I wanted to find a dark place and hide! He'd probably be joking with all the other vendors about me: the jock grocery boy who was queer for men. Word would get out and before long everybody would know my private yearnings. After I'd calmed down a bit and was breathing more normally, I reasoned that it might just open up some before-untold opportunities---but there were also some inherent disadvantages. Like the taunting and ridicule I was sure to receive from some of those fucking gay bashers, one of whom was the boss himself---not to mention my queer-hating father!
It was a couple days later when I ran into him again. I mean---quite literally---ran into him! I was wheeling' a "boat" of dead stock a little too fast around a blind corner of the back room when WHAM! I slammed head on into the "boat" Mark was bringing out on the sales floor. Boxes of Little Devil Snacks went flying all over the place to join with my store brand merchandise, which had toppled on impact. When I saw he was the operator of the other cart I nearly shit my drawers! I'd been trying to avoid the sonofabitch since the other day and what do I do but have a collision with the hot fuck!!
"Whoa, Buddy! You need to use the brakes on that thing," he bellowed good-naturedly in his deeply masculine voice as he squatted down to repack the fallen merchandise. What choice did I have but to assist him down there on the floor? He was making all kinds of small talk while we flexed some muscle and repacked the "boats"; I completely averted his eyes (and crotch) and merely grunted my response, nervous fuck that I was.
When we'd finished he totally caught me off guard by backslapping me on one pumped-up arm and got my total attention. He had one bare arm wrapped around the metal of the U-boat and was kind of leaning a hip into it, ankles crossed and looking really relaxed. Looking down on me with his head raised high and chest challengingly thrust out he said, in a completely normal tone of voice, "So, you want to do more than just look?"
My eyes nearly popped out of my head and I nearly choked on the piece of gum I'd been chewing. "Fuck, yeah!" The words kind of came gushing out of my mouth with little-to-no control. This straight, married dude was hitting on me right out there in the open and not even doing it in a conspiring tone. Okay, so nobody passing by would've known what the fuck we were talking about, but still----
"Gotta place?" he asked, absently raising a hand to scratch an itch under one hairy arm pit.
"No, man. I live with my parents," I told him. "How 'bout you?"
He clucked his tongue. "Nah, that won't work either." One thick brow furrowed as he pondered a solution to our predicament.
"How 'bout here?" I suggested. "Place closes up at ten and everybody’s gone by about quarter after."
He raised those brows incredulously. "You mean here, in the store?"
"Nah," I replied, shaking my head and nodding to the loading dock. "Out there."
"Yeah?" It was more than a question; there was also a bit of curiosity, and shock, in his tone.
"Lots of rubbers been swept off the dock over the years," I told him. It was true; we existed in a rural area where the sidewalks pretty much rolled up at nine and, unless you were hiding' out in the dense woods behind the store, the back area was free game for horndogs like me. I'd struck a home run in the front seat of more than one car parked out there under the subdued lights over the years.
So, we parted, agreeing to meet that night at eleven. I could barely keep my mind on the job the rest of the day and kept looking at my watch while the minutes dragged on by. It was even worse when I got out of there at six and had those last remaining hours to kill. Ended up getting to our rendezvous point early. Place was all closed up, everybody was gone and, thankfully, nobody was hanging out back drinking or smoking pot or fucking. Full of nervous expectation, I couldn't just sit there waiting expectantly in my beat-up VW for my dream stud's appearance. Got out of the car, paced around a bit and finally hoisted myself up onto the loading dock and sat my ass right there at the edge, feet crossed at the ankles and dangling legs swinging to and fro. I'd taken a relaxing, leisurely shower earlier and had changed into a sleeveless pastel T-shirt and a pair of loose homeboy jean-shorts that went down just below the knees. At work I usually wear my black engineer, steel-toed boots but for tonight's excursion I was donning my clean, white high tops.
When my watch read a couple minutes after eleven I started getting even more nervous; when it got to be ten after, I was in near-panic. The thought had occurred to me earlier that Mark might be blowing smoke up my ass---or he might have a last-minute change of heart. Disappointment overcame my earlier ecstatic mood as the minutes ticked by. Soon it was twenty after the hour; I decided I'd give him until half past and then I was reluctantly calling it a night. Didn't know how I'd handle it with him tomorrow; how could I tell him I'd been waiting out there in the dead of the night for a taste of his prick like some love-struck puppy dog?
I was close to giving up when I suddenly detected the sound of a car's engine coming from somewhere nearby. Headlights flashed from around the corner and a silver Camaro turned into the back loading area. The car pulled up next to mine, the engine died and Mark stepped out into the security lights. His long legs carried him over to where I was sitting, trying like hell to appear nonchalant, although I was full of excited apprehension. With outstretched arms, he gripped the edge of the chest-high loading dock and leaned into it while looking up at me.
"Sorry I'm late, buddy. The wife stopped over and I couldn't get away," he told me.
"Didja fuck her?" I ventured, bravely.
"Hell, no!" he spat out and then, with a sexy lopsided grin, "Well, actually, I thought about it. I've been horny as all hell for a long while now. But, no, she's being a real cunt about this separation, so I got jack shit out of her."
I sure liked the sound of those words. And I could see that Mark had gone to a bit of trouble for our encounter. Clearly he'd shaved, showered and dressed himself up in a snappy looking, short- sleeved shirt, unbuttoned to hairy mid chest and tucked into a pair of fairly tight, faded denim shorts which contoured his basket nicely. The slight evening breeze carried the faint scent of his intoxicating, manly aftershave. I realized I'd long ago gotten totally stiff in the crotch.
"So, you going to stand down there all night or you coming up here?" I challenged.
He hesitated for a moment, searching my face with those smoky eyes and exercising a bit of straight man's caution. Didn't take him long to make his decision; Mark pumped the muscles in those bronzed arms, lifting his hunky body up onto the cement platform right next to me. Failing to waste another second, I planted my hands on the stud's broad shoulders and pushed him backwards, then swung both his legs up onto the dock so he was laying there spread-eagled and propped up on his elbows watching me take charge. Scooting in between the V of his nicely toned, hairy limbs I quickly undid his snap and zipper, pulled his shorts and briefs down below his nuts and had his knob in my mouth before he could utter any last-minute protest.
The dude sure had a nice dick; the fucker was already semi-hard when I got my first taste of it and in less than half-a-minute had swelled to its full glory. Between seven to eight, I'd estimate, and nicely thick---not too much, but just enough to give my jaws a nice, healthy stretch. Kneeling there between his spread legs, my wet tongue worked his hot knob while my hand encircled the length of his throbbing shaft and jerked his man meat. With my free hand I managed to undo the buttons of his shirt, allowing it to fall open and expose his tightly compact, lightly hairy torso. Rubbing the palm of my sweaty hand over his stomach and across his chest, I reached for a plump nipple and gave it a hard twist with my fingertips. The stud groaned real deep and sexy; his heated cock twitched excitedly in my mouth.
I gave his cock everything it wanted---everything it had been deprived of for months. I bathed his entire shaft with my abundant saliva, sucked at his big, hairy nuts and even worked my tongue down his hot ass crack. My own excited prick was throbbing inside my shorts as I gave this hetero dude some fine, long-overdue head. He closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure when I managed to draw his entire shaft deep into my velvety slick throat, nibbling on the base of that beauty with my wet lips. Pretty soon he was thrashing' around on the cement dock, hands clutching my head to hold it in place as he thrust his hips up against my working mouth---now intently watching the heated male action.
Damn, how I had wanted to suck that hot load right out of the big fella and quench my thirst with his manly nectar! But I also had some other itches that needed some scratching. Coming up off his dick, I stood there and undid my shorts, dropping them down to my ankles. My own big cock sprang into view, and I think a spray of pre-cum danced up into the air and might have rained down on the macho stud. Turning around, I grabbed both round ass melons and, bending at the waist, spread my crack wide open for his perusal. My hairy hole was winking at the horned up stud as I asked, with as much machismo as the situation allowed, while I fingered my wet pucker, "Wanna fuck me, dude?"
In short order I was crawling on hands and feet across the bank of shopping carts stored against the back wall on the dock with Mark following right behind me. Finding a spot, I lay belly down with my fingers intertwined in the metal of the carts and my muscular thighs spread wide. Mark's body was over mine in seconds, hands to either side of me and wedding ring in clear view. Manly outer thighs pressed against my equally hairy inner thighs as he got into position, took hold of his aching hard-on and aimed it at my quivering ass hole. The fucker wasn't asking about lube or rubbers; he was absorbed by lust and only thinking about sinking his manhood deep into my rectal cavity and getting his rocks off. Unbeknownst to him, I'd anticipated the urgency of our eventual fuck and had included a lube job along with my other grooming for the evening.
His big cock glided into me easily---all of it, in one penetrating thrust---like a knife through soft butter. When he'd bottomed out inside me he let out an audible sigh of unexpected satisfaction and held it there throbbing inside me for the briefest of moments before he really started the fucking. And once that sonofabitch started, there was no slowing him down. He rode me hard and fast, pounding the living fuck out of my juicy hole. I'm not one for simply laying there and taking a fuck; I had to get in on the action, too. Every chance I got I was backing myself up against him to meet his next maddening thrust. And when he got too wild, I was crawling on fingers and toes across the carts trying to get a little distance between us for a bit. But the hot fucker kept right up on me, grabbing me around my tight waist and pulling me back onto his battering ram.
I don't know how long we were at it out there in the night before I lost my nut. Hard as I tried to keep the action going, the way his big throbber was banging against my prostate sending thrills throughout my body I knew I couldn't last for long. Sure enough, that fan-fuckin-tastic feeling overtook me and I was moaning, groaning and shouting in ecstasy as big wads of cream exploded from my piss hole. Caught up in this ultimate rapture with my face pressed against the metal grating, I could see ribbons of my thick cum trailing down the spokes of the interconnected shopping carts and dripping onto the cement flooring below.
Wasn't long after that when he started panting like a dog in heat and his big, fat dick started throbbing like mad as it plunged in and out of my hot hole. Knowing he was real close to cumming, I clamped the muscles of my ass as tight as I could around his invading pecker---driving the poor slob totally nuts! He was totally loving it---and so was I! He whacked away at my love hole a couple more times and then, with a thunderous bellow, rammed the fucker home and started shooting his load. It was like a fuckin uncapped hose filling up my tank with white hot, creamy cum. Mark's whole body was shuddering as he fell upon me, his mouth chewing on the back of my neck and muttering all sorts of arousing obscenities as he emptied his ball sac into my mushy guts.
We laid that way for quite a while, him with his sweaty body pressed atop mine and his still hard dick buried ball's deep up my drenched fuck hole. It'd been a long time since he'd gotten laid and I sensed the stud still had another fuck in him. I managed to get him off me long enough to flip over onto my back, raise my legs and offer myself from a new perspective. Mark was on me like flies to shit, beating his stiff shaft inside my asshole until we'd both shot our second massive loads of the evening. It was well after midnight when we parted, him thanking me profusely for helping him get off and me thanking him for one of the best straight fucks of my life. Lying in my bed that night looking out the window at the collection of stars in the sky I could swear I felt all of his spent babies squirming around inside of me.
What neither of us considered---even thought about at the time---were those blasted security cameras out there on the loading dock and the price I would later pay for my indiscretion . . .
But, that’s another story.
