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Sharin’ Aaron by Donald Ammer
I got all the way down to 44th Street and Thomas Road before the realization hit me that I’d left my cell phone back in the office.
“Damn! Shit! FUCK!” I stood there on the southeast corner of the intersection, swearing like a sailor who’s just stubbed his toe, as before me the traffic on Thomas sped by in two directions at its usual warp-six speed under the starry, early-evening sky.
“Fuck!” I repeated, to no one in particular, and momentarily turned around to head back down Thomas to the job before hesitating. Stay, or go back? If I missed my bus, it’d take thirty minutes for another, and an extra 45 minutes to get home because I’d have to take another connecting bus; that’s how erratically the buses in Phoenix run after dark. Yet, if I didn’t go back for my Razor, then I’d be without a phone until 10am tomorrow morning, when I got back to work – no phone, no phonebook, no text messaging … shit, I even used the fucking thing to tell the time!
I glanced to my right – just in time to see the headlights of my Green Line bus heading directly for me, eastbound, on Thomas Road in the distance.
Shit! The office was probably locked up already, anyway – we all pretty much fled the place by 7pm – but I needed my fucking phone. Or, at least, to know the damned thing was still in the office, locked up and safe.
So with one guttural, Geico caveman-like growl, I mentally waved the bus on and trudged back down 44th Street, heading south and past the ongoing construction of yet another Starbucks that pretty much blocked any shortcuts to my office building from the road. You had to walk around it to get to my work, and on a daily basis that really hocked me off when I was running late. Tonight, the extra distance also gave me a few moments to think.
I had been back in Phoenix for only about four weeks, after being away seven years. The city had grown amazingly in those years – even a light-rail system up Central Avenue was about halfway-done being built – but in all it was still just a city in the desert, with ideal weather eight months out of the year … the other four pretty much making you feel like the main course at a weenie roast from hell.
What helped in my decision to head back to work, as well, was knowing that I at least wouldn’t run into Aaron. Sitting in a one-room call center and taking surveys with would-be job applicants for a cut-rate marketing firm was one line of crap … but when you had to do it for eight-plus hours a day while staring at one of the sexiest, most handsome, long-legged and light-skinned Latino you’ve ever laid eyes on in your life – well, that made the job just about impossible to perform. Aaron was in his late 20’s, good-looking and sexy and very masculine – pure cholo from head to toe, all 6-feet of him. He had an east coast, straight-out-of-Brooklyn accent, strong, well-toned arms and long legs that ended in big feet; was lean and deep-voiced and had big, coffee-colored eyes and a wide smile with a slight overbite that on him was so sexy, I couldn’t breathe when I first looked at him each day. I wanted to taste those thick, wide lips – feel the burn of that thick, dark moustache that draped over his top lip when we kissed. He dressed like LL Cool J – street-chic, often with matching colors or designs, pure hip-hop suave – and walked with a lazy, practiced stride that said he’d get where he was going when he was damned good and ready. The tall, Latin thug with class, in short, oozed testosterone and machismo and sensuality that registered about 10.5 on the Dickter scale – and I wanted his straight ass, more than anything in the world. Wanted him so badly, it hurt my crotch just thinking about him.
But thanks to this one chunky black chick in the office, who – along with her flaming little Mexican buddy, Orlando (who, behind his back, a couple of the guys in the office referred to as “Oralando”) – whisked Aaron away with them every day for lunch, I’d barely had a chance to even speak to the guy in the short time I’d worked there. All I knew about him, via some discreet poking around, was that he’d been working for the company for less than a year – and that recently (just prior to my coming to work there) he’d just returned to work after being out for over three weeks … finishing up a jail sentence for some minor crime no one seemed to know the details about. Supposedly, Aaron was a changed dude since – now attending church ever weekend, and reporting to his probation officer almost as religiously. He was, in short, being a “good boy” – something I would have given anything to corrupt again.
As I entered the outdoor office complex and walked around back, through all the fake-ass landscaping toward our suite as I fumbled in the dark, it occurred to me again to wonder how the hell Aaron had ever been kept on the job after being in prison in the first place. The director of our call center – a short, little (5’7”) African-American ex-cop of 34, with dark-honey-colored skin, named Mitch – was a total asshole (albeit, a sexy one) who spent most of his time running us employees into the ground instead of giving even one word of positive reinforcement. Mitch ran the room like he was still some know-it-all police officer, bossy and militant and carrying himself like he still packed a gun that he’d very well use on you, if you got out of line … and why someone with that bullying mentality and superior attitude would let someone like Aaron come back to the job, after a stretch in jail, was a total mystery to me.
Still, I had to be grateful to Mitch the Bitch (as some of us called him), for keeping Aaron on; I mean shit, it made my day just to look at the lean Latin thug. Thing is, you could say the same for Mitch – with those ultra-tight clothes he wore that hugged his short, personal trainer’s (his sideline job) physique – if you could ever tear him away from that mean-spirited Filipino bitch he was married to … who also happened to co-manage the place with him. For real, you’d say either Mitch or his wife’s name to anyone in the call room, and you’d see that person’s face go totally pale with dread – even the black folks! And she stayed glued to Mitch, too, usually – they almost always arrived and left work together, and if Mitch ran the call center like Hitler … his ball-and-chain was definitely Ms. Mussolini.
I hit suite 168 and gently pulled on the door, surprised to find it unlocked. I poked my head in, and the front office – about the size of a walk-in closet, and twice as stuffy – was still brightly-lit, but empty. I stepped in, at the same time glancing to my left at Mitch’s office door; it was closed, but a beam of light under it told me that it was far from empty.
Shit, I said to myself. He and his heifer usually had gone before even any of us left; what the fuck was he still doing here?
I had to be fast. Hurriedly, I dashed past the closed white office door and through the front office, to the open telemarketing room behind it. I entered the much-larger room, which was full of tables laid out in a giant “U” – eleven workstations, each complete with a computer, telephone, and headset – and to my left immediately spotted the cell phone, tucked partially under the back of my computer’s keyboard where I’d missed it when leaving earlier (yeah, I’d been that much in a rush to make that frigging bus). I ran over and snatched up my phone, grateful and in just as much a hurry to get the fuck out of there and avoid any grilling by Mitch …
When I heard the door to the outside open again in the front office, as someone else entered the suite.
Fuck! I clamped my lips shut, cutting myself off from accidentally saying the word. Someone had just come in, alright, I could heard their footsteps … but instead of entering the call room, I heard whoever it was knock just once – sharply – on Mitch’s closed office door.
“Enter!” I heard Mitch command from inside his office. He sounded like Caesar summoning his head guard.
The new person in the office opened the door, and immediately I could hear Mitch’s baritone voice again, in total clarity.
“Did you lock the front door?” he asked.
“Yeah,” the new person replied –
And I about shit my pants; the other voice belonged to Aaron. Involuntarily, I inched closer to the doorway leading from the call room back to the outer office, straining to hear Aaron’s more raspy, soft-spoken growl.
“Come in,” Mitch ordered. “And leave the door cracked; it’s hot as hell in here, and no one can get in, anyway.”
Aaron didn’t reply, but I heard his lazy gangsta-stride as he entered the room, then a folding chair scraped the floor and squeaked slightly as he sat. “You wanted ta see me?” he asked quietly, almost politely. Christ, even his voice coming from two rooms away made my dick start to get hard; I crept along the wall like fucking Spider-man, finally getting up the guts to peer around the corner – where I could see the empty, lit up front office again, blinds to the outside closed … but this time with Mitch’s office door cracked open about two inches, a wide beam of yellow-white light slanting onto the tiled front office floor. I could see Aaron’s seated shadow on the light, as he sat slouched in the chair in front of Mitch’s big office desk.
“Yes, Aaron,” Mitch was saying, “I wanted to see you for a quick minute. Remember that favor you did for me a few weeks ago, when you first came back to work?” he asked.
Dead silence from Aaron, for at least a minute, and I swear I could feel the temperature in the office go down about ten degrees – the tension shooting up as I saw Aaron’s shadow on the floor stiffen. What tha fuck about it?” I heard him ask Mitch. “You said you’d never mention that shit again, Mitch,” he growled.
Even from two doorways away, I could hear the chilly sarcasm in Mitch’s deep voice. “Yeah, well – I’m mentioning it again.”
I saw Aaron’s shadow shoot forward as he almost jumped out of his seat in anger. “Mothafucka, I told you that was IT with that shit! What that cunt won’t do for you at home ain’t my business – ” He was standing now, almost yelling, and I couldn’t believe that this was the same soft-spoken Latin hunk I’d spent weeks aching to bed. “ – and it ain’t my PROBLEM!”
What the fuck were they talking about? I wondered – though, deep down in the base of my brain, an idea had begun to form; one that was starting to make my dick growl again and my asshole tingle. I didn’t dare move the idea to the front of my brain, not yet – to do so might have made me come in my jeans on the spot. But man, if I was wrong would it make great jack-off fantasy material later. And God Help Me, if I was right …
“Calm down, Aaron,” I heard Mitch reply, all smooth self-confidence. “Calm down, and sit down. After what I caught you doing in the men’s john the other day, man – well, for not mentioning that alone, you owe me one. I’m just collecting man. Right now.”
And then – to both my utter horror and delight – I heard a zipper slowly come undone.
“You told me you deleted that photo, man,” I heard Aaron say. His voice was much calmer now – almost resigned. “You said you erased it.”
“I lied,” Mitch snarled. “It’s still on my cell phone. I’ll delete it when we’re done, right in front of you, Aaron, and no one will see it … especially not your probation officer. But for now – come on, let’s get this shit done. I don’t got a lot of time.” There was silence for a minute, then I heard Mitch chuckle. “Come on, Aaron, you’ve done time – you’re used to doing this when you got to.”
My jaw literally dropped open in shock, even as I heard a muttered, “Fuck you to fuckin’ hell, Mitch,” from Aaron … as I watched his shadow slowly rise – then disappear from view, as he headed around to the other side of Mitch’s desk. Without realizing it, I found myself edging around the doorframe and into the outer office, still clinging to the wall as I made my way toward Mitch’s open office door. Holding my breath and saying a little prayer, I oh-so-slowly peeked one eye around the corner of the doorframe …
Where what I saw made me so fucking light-headed – my legs so weak – that I had to grab onto the wood edging of the door in order not to fall down.
Mitch – sprawled out behind his desk in a tall, black leather office chair that probably cost more than I made in a week – had his black polo shirt pulled up to expose his flat, hairy, dark honey-flavored belly. The fly of his skin-tight black jeans was open, black briefs pulled down far enough to allow one big-ass, dark-brown 8-inch cock – topped by an enormous, extra-wide overripe mushroom of a head – to stand erect and straight up into the air, able to breathe at last. As if that weren’t big enough a shock to the system (and my dick) – Aaron, who was kneeling before Mitch on the floor, had his long, tan fingers wrapped around Mitch’s fat pole, stroking that black man’s meat. I could see Aaron more or less from a side view, but Mitch – who could easily have seen me peeking around the open door edge, had he not been so distracted – was staring down at the handsome Latino, Mitch’s thin moustache barely covering his upper lip as he glared with a superior air at his hot-as-fuck Puerto Rican employee.
“Come on, man,” he barely whispered, “take off your shirt. The sooner you get me off, the sooner you get out.” He gave Aaron a short but kind of hard pat on the cheek, and Aaron only let go of Mitch’s cock long enough to unbutton and remove the oversized, bright red dress shirt he’d worn to work that day. As I’d suspected (and dreamt about), Aaron’s body was on the thin side, but well-developed and smooth – his nipples dark-brown, hard little nubs made for sucking on. Other than a small bush of dark hair under each arm (and the fine black hairs on his arms themselves, which by now I practically had memorized), my Puerto Rican fantasy prince’s upper body was completely smooth. Soon as he’d pulled his shirt from the waistband of his own jeans and tossed it onto Mitch’s desk – looking so fucking pissed, he was almost scary – Aaron went back to stroking Mitch’s dark boner, his right hand squeezing tightly enough, as he pumped that hot, black ex-cop’s rod, that I even from where I stood I could see pre-cum oozing from the piss-slit of that fat mushroom head.
My own dick was hurting, screaming like hell to be set free.
“Yeah, that’s it Aaron,” Mitch cooed, stretching fully out now in his desk chair as he raised his hips. “Pull my pants off, man.”
Aaron did so, as Mitch slid his black loafers off and shrugged out of his polo shirt – and in seconds all Mitch was wearing were black dress socks and a hell of a contented smile. His legs were hairy, short but muscular from working out – a genuine athlete’s legs. When he’d settled back into the chair again, almost lying down now, those hot little ex-cop legs rose up to drape themselves over Aaron’s paler shoulders, even as Mitch ordered, “Come on, bitch – suck it.”
But Aaron – kneeling shirtless before his blackmailing boss as he continued stroking the dude’s dick, shook his head, frowning. “I ain’t doin’ that shit again, Mitch,” he said, shrugging his boss’s legs off his shoulders. “Uh-uh, not this time. No way.”
Now it was Mitch’s turn to look pissed. He reached over on his desk, behind him, to grab up his cell phone, as I ducked my head back out of the room. “No problem, man,” he said, flipping it up and down in his hand. “I got buddies on the force I can email this photo to right now, man. They’d like to see some ex-con doing blow in a public john – especially if it’s one I can provide the home address of.”
And, as I dared to peek again, I saw Mitch settle the phone in his right palm – and start to press some buttons on it.
“Hold up!” Aaron yelled, grabbing Mitch’s wrist with his left hand. With his right, the handsome Latino went back to stroking Mitch’s bubbling cock, then put both hands on it to pump harder. “You – you’ll erase that fucking photo soon as we’re done, man?” he asked Mitch.
“Soon as I’m done, yeah,” Mitch replied with a smirk on his face. “As I said, buddy – will delete it right in front of you.”
I could see Aaron working it out in his head. Then – still pissed, but now with a much more submissive, resigned look on his face – he mumbled, “Put the phone down, Mitch,” and leaned over. As I watched, breathless, he leaned over and inhaled Mitch’s fat-topped black dick all the way down his throat.
“Ohhhhh FUCK yeah …” Mitch moaned, dropping the phone on the desk as his head flung itself back onto the chair’s leather headrest. His eyes rolled shut in bliss as his legs flew back up and onto Aaron’s broad shoulders again. Moaning like a tiger, eyes shut, he grabbed the arms of his chair, thrusting hard with his hips at the same time – and rammed his cock fully down Aaron’s throat. The Latino choked, gagged, and tried to pull off of Mitch’s dick – but the hot ex-cop (who need one hell of an attitude adjustment) grabbed Aaron’s head and tightened his legs around the Latin hunk’s shoulders at the same time, forcing Aaron to choke on his dick and almost literally getting off on it. His grip must have been tight as fuck, too, because Aaron’s face was turning red, his cheeks blowing outward as he coughed and choked around that dick; I could see him fighting like mad now to get away, hear the gagging sounds fill the office … until Mitch finally backed off and pulled away, giving Aaron air.
But only for a second, before he grabbed the Latino’s ears and started fucking that handsome, straight-boy face hard, like Aaron’s mouth was the tightest, hottest pussy on earth … building up in strength as his crotch hammered Aaron’s face, Mitch’s fingers moving to grip fistfuls of Aaron’s short, dark hair so that there was no chance of the fiery Latino breaking free, as Mitch approached orgasm.
“Oh FUCK yeah, straight boy,” Mitch yelled, eyes shut again as his thrusts turned into pounding, his hips stabbing that big black dick down Aaron’s throat. “Take that dick, bitch – swallow me, you fuckin’ con, swallow me when I come, this time, man, you are gonna DRINK my shit – swallow my jizz and love it, straight papi …”
Aaron’s face had gone from red to bright pink, his face and shoulders shiny with sweat as he struggled hard to get away, get to his feet – but Mitch’s legs held him to the floor like lead weights. He couldn’t talk – couldn’t breathe – barely able to grunt in protest and pain as Mitch continued hammering everything he had down his throat at warp-six speed. The face fucking was phenomenal to watch – like Mitch was venting all the angry-cop frustration and anger building up in him for years on this straight Puerto Rican dude’s throat – and even as I wanted to help Aaron, at the same time I was so fucking turned on, I could already feel the pre-cum staining the white BVDs inside my jeans. I was rooted to the spot, unable to move, as I could feel my own anger and frustration rising – watching as Mitch came closer and closer to shooting his load down the throat of the man I had fantasized about for weeks – all this fucking mess and mind-blowing sex over one goddam photo. My hands squeezed into fists as I stood helpless – wanting to do something to help Aaron – and that’s when I felt my own cell phone, still clenched in my left hand …
And the idea hit me. I almost pissed my pants when it hit me.
I didn’t take the time to even think it through clearly – knowing that, if I did so, I’d lose my nerve. The way Mitch was know pummeling Aaron’s throat, thrusting so hard his ass was no longer even in the chair – I also knew it wouldn’t be too much longer before he either shot his load … or Aaron choked to death, or something.
So before I could stop myself, I took a deep breath and stepped through the open crack of Mitch’s office door, fully into the room. Neither of them noticed me – Mitch was close to shooting, his eyes shut, as Aaron was concentrating on getting air back into his fucking lungs, trying to pull Mitch’s hands from the sides of his head with his own …
As I held out my camera-phone, aimed carefully to capture the entire scene … and snapped off three photos before Mitch finally noticed the flash. His dark bedroom eyes flung open in shock, orgasm forgotten as he turned his head and saw me standing on the other side of his desk, camera held out like Clint Eastwood with a gun in a Dirty Harry flick – photographing him.
“What the FUCK?!” he screamed, falling back into his chair. His cock popped from Aaron’s thick lips, slimed with spit that left a trail on his belly as it slapped back at it, as Aaron finally broke free from the ex-cop and jumped to his feet. He was gasping hard, raggedy coughs coming in between the desperate gasps for air as he tried to refill his strained lungs, hunched over with his palms on his thighs as he hugged and puffed … and stared in embarrassment and gratitude at me.
“Jesus, what the FUCK are you doing here, Dennis?!” Mitch yelled at me. His hard-on, already starting to wilt, was coming to rest in his nest of coarse pubic hair that was coated in Aaron’s spit, as well. Mitch turned to Aaron, enraged. “I thought you said you locked the fuckin’ door!” he shrieked.
“I did!” Aaron replied, standing fully now and breathing normally again. His voice was hoarse, like someone just getting over the flu; man, Mitch must have really shredded his throat up with that big dick of his. “He must have come back in while I was taking a piss,” Aaron added.
“Stand up,” I told Mitch. “Now.”
“You heard me,” I told him. “My cell phone has a camera, too – and I’m calling the shots in this little torture chamber now. So unless you want Lisa to see the photos I just took, when she comes to work tomorrow, I suggest you get the fuck to your feet now.”
Mitch gasped, mouth hanging open. He turned to Aaron.
“Man, FUCK you Mitch,” Aaron told him, standing there in just his jeans and looking as fine as any jack-off fantasy I’d ever had about him. “You heard the man – he’s the boss, now.”
“But – but it’s two against one,” Mitch half-whispered to Aaron, as if I weren’t in the room. “We could get his cell phone away from him …”
I could feel the color rush out of my face; shit, I hadn’t thought of that!
Aaron’s eye met mine, studying me for a second. Then he turned his gaze, very coldly, back to Mitch.
“Oh, you want my help now?” he asked. A small smile broke into a huge-ass grin on his face as he stared down at Aaron … then turned back to me and said:
“Can I fuck him?”
It was my turn to smile. “That’s kinda what I had in mind.”
It was Mitch’s turn to scream now, as Aaron and I got him to his feet and laid him – face down- over his own desk. Total fear of his bitch of a wife, Lisa, was the only thing that kept him even mildly docile – but man, did he swear the entire time. I told Aaron to strip, and he did so without comment – showing me that the lean, mean physique continued down a round, tasty-looking bubble-ass and long, hairy legs that ended in size-eleven Puerto Rican man’s feet that I wanted to lick and suck on sight. Grabbing up one of his long white socks, I used it to tie Mitch’s wrists behind his back, like handcuffs. The other we shoved into Mitch’s mouth like a gag, just to shut him the fuck up.
I remained dressed – wanting to watch, at least at first – as we stood behind Mitch, the little black ex-cop dude laying over his desk with the big, hairy butt facing our way. Aaron’s strong hands – along with the photos stored on my cell phone – were enough to keep him lying there, and I could see that Aaron’s own cock – maybe the prettiest, light-brown, foreskin-coated nine inches of Latin beef I had ever seen in my life – was already stirring awake at the thought of some revenge. I couldn’t help staring at it as I stood in front of him, my own hand running over Mitch’s ass and getting even more turned on (I wanted to fuck him, too, for all those meetings we’d had at work where he’d bitched us out) … and when I couldn’t help myself and reached out to start stroking Aaron’s long, fat cock – he didn’t stop me. We pushed Mitch’s legs up at the knees, yelling at him to stop resisting, until he was lying on the bare edge of his dark wood desk – legs spread wide and bent like a frog’s. His asshole, dark and swirled in even darker hair, was tiny and juicy and ripe for cherry picking. I could tell Aaron was nearly as turned on as I was as he stood up and faced me (I had to look up to see him – he was a least three inches taller than I was).
“We don’t have any lube,” he said to me quietly, his right hand squeezing and rubbing on Mitch’s dark, hairy ass as he stared at it like he couldn’t wait to fuck it.
“Sure we do,” I replied, and dropped to my knees before Aaron – at last making part of my fantasy come true as I opened wide and my tongue darted out to lick at the tanned pink cockhead, which barely poked out of the thick foreskin of his prick.
“Oh my fucking GOD,” Aaron whispered, as I pulled the foreskin around my tongue. “Daaaaaaammmmmnnnnn …”
I teased the head inside, the without warning slid my mouth all the way down him, swallowing nine inches of prime beef down my gullet until his pubic hairs scratched my nose. Aaron actually yelled, then forgot Mitch as both of his hands flew to tangle in my short blonde hair, holding me to his crotch and all the way down on his cock. My own hands reached up to knead his firm, round buns, and evidently Aaron took that as a signal because he started pushing with his hips and soon was fucking my throat, moaning and inhaling air through his mouth and totally giving into the Hoover-like head I was working on him.
“Damn, that feels so good, man,” he whispered. I could taste his sweat and the musky manhood of his prick, smell it in his crotch as he fucked my face, and I was so turned on I reached down and unzipped and whipped out my own rock-hard erection, stroking eight pink inches even as nine hard, spicy Puerto Rican ones had their filthy way with my throat.
But I could feel the vein on the underside of his shaft vibrating, and afraid Aaron would come, I pushed his hands away and pulled off his dick. He seem disappointed, staring down at me, but then his eyes became alive with lust again as he watched me turn to my left – still kneeling – and instead use both of my hands to spread Mitch’s hair-lined ass even wider, revealing that dark pink butthole for a second before my face jumped on it. My tongue slid directly into the hot black ex-cop’s asshole, and I had to grab Mitch’s hips and hold on tight as he jumped on the desktop, trying to get away. I could hear the muffled shout through the gaga of Aaron’s dirty sock in his mouth, and didn’t care; that virgin asshole tasted sweet as honey, was smooth at silk. I increased the pressure on my hands, spreading his cheeks at wide as they would go, and my tongue slid in even more deeply. Mitch struggled, hands firmly tied behind his back, but I would swear to this day that those muffled screams and shouts – coming through Mitch’s sweat sock – were slowly turning into animalistic groans of pleasure.
“Ooh, yeah – tongue that ass,” Aaron cooed, smacking his big dick against my shoulder and leaving a pre-cum stain on my navy blue shirt. “Get it nice and wet for this dick, man. I wanna fuck him hard.”
I could follow orders, too – and for over five minutes switched off between rimming Mitch until I thought he would lose his mind … and going down on Aaron until he was gasping so hard, I thought he would lose everything in his balls prematurely. Finally, I stood up and moved to the other side of the desk, where I could hold Mitch down by the shoulders – my own pink-red hard-on bobbing in my boss’s face.
“Do it,” I told Aaron, as I held Mitch’s big shoulders down firmly to the desk, putting all my weight into my arms to hold him there.
Aaron, eyes so full of lust he almost looked stoned, moved between Mitch’s legs, spreading them wider on the desk with his beefy thighs. Mitch’s small toes were braced on the desk ledge. I watched as my fantasy Latino took position, smacking his rock-hard prick on Mitch’s buttcheeks … then slowly held my breath as I watched Aaron grab his condomless dick and – not-so-gently – force the fat head fully into Mitch’s ass, breaking the ex-policeman’s virginity forever.
“MMPPHHH!!” Mitch screamed through his gag, eyes flying open and immediately tearing up as he looked up at me. I smiled back, telling him to relax and it would hurt less – just as Aaron’s lust totally took over, and with one hip-thrust he slammed everything he had into Mitch’s tight, tiny hole.
Our boss jumped on the desk like he’d been tasered, flopping like a fish as I tried to hold him down. Aaron’s grip on Mitch’s hips was much firmer, and there was no chance the brother was getting away. Aaron stayed buried up inside Mitch until he’d calmed down again, and I noticed real tears leaking from Mitch’s eyes as they squeezed shut again, the pain finally fading away. When he was lying there, impaled and resigned to getting fucked, Aaron withdrew a bit and then hit home again, slamming his crotch into Mitch’s Jell-O-y buns. One gasp and a sharp grunt of pain was all Mitch let loose with this time … and then Aaron was fucking him, slowly but quickly going faster and faster, making Mitch his bitch on the guy’s own desktop at last.
He was merciless, too, looking up at me as he let go of Mitch’s hips and grabbed the little guy’s shoulders for leverage instead, his pounding turning into warp-six ramming as he leaned into Mitch and fucked the snot out of Mitch’s tiny asshole, his long fingers leaving marks in Mitch’s darker skin – his grip that tight. I could have come just watching him, but instead Aaron gestured for me to pull the sock from Mitch’s mouth – which I did – and then it was Aaron who was barking orders, as Mitch was now free to cry and whimper from the pounding.
“Suck him, Mitch!” he yelled at our boss. “Suck Dennis’s dick like I did yours, mothafucker …”
“No!” Mitch yelled back, but I pushed my cock at his lips and he took it in – in fact, sucked it in, grunting, his face bashing into me with each sharp fuck-thrust from Aaron up his ass behind him. I rammed my own dick down Mitch’s throat, forcing him to take all of me as Aaron continued fucking him senseless from behind, and sweat broke out all over my body as I started ramming Mitch’s throat as hard as Aaron plowed his ass.
I would come soon, I knew it; this was too much of my fantasy come true. All of my fantasy except … except …
I really socked it home to Mitch, until he was choking as Aaron had, force-feeding my cock down his throat and expanding it raw as he began to gaga on me. Aaron, watching, grabbed even more tightly onto Mitch’s shoulders as his speed picked up and he was really hammering fully into Mitch’s asshole now – not even pulling out, just barreling his full-length of fat Puerto Rican prick up that straight black ass. Mitch and Aaron were both covered in sweat – and I wasn’t far behind, especially with the plan that had just blossomed in my mind. Did I dare try it? Dare live the whole fantasy??
I had to try – and I had to try while he was still so full of lust, he might actually let it happen. I continued fucking Mitch’s mouth, spit sliming out in streams from the corners of his lips – his moustache and small mouth wet with spit and my pre-cum – and I think even he was surprised when I pulled my dick out of his throat.
It was now or never, as I rushed around to the other side of the desk, dropping to my knees behind Aaron. I pushed him on the back and he laid more on top of Mitch, turning back to look at me and what I was doing even as he kept ramming home inside the guy who signed his paycheck – and I don’t think he was too prepared when I suddenly spread his pale-brown asscheeks wide and dove fully in with my tongue.
“Holy SHIT!” Aaron yelled, falling on top of Mitch, and I began to tongue and slurp and rim that incredibly clean and hot Latin ass of his with every bit of passion I’d ever felt for a man inside me. I tongued him so hard – so deep – that he started writhing on top of Mitch, cock still buried up the small, black ex-cop dude … and when I thought he was wet enough for a 747 to pass up there, I rose again and slowly – but firmly – shoved the hard head of my prick into Aaron’s tiny, newly-slimed butthole.
“Fuck – NOOOO!” he shrieked, body doing fully rigid, but I held him down and he stayed there. I took it slow, the head just in, and when I shoved a bit more of my dick inside him, he only groaned and whimpered like a spanked puppy, biting his lip. I leaned in … pushed more … and at last my fantasy was complete; I was fucking him, slowly like a lover and then with grinding speed until he was more like a trick I’d just found on a street corner – and as I started hammering inside him, Aaron in sort of a state of shock, lying on top of Mitch – with each thrust of my own prick up his ass, I made him fuck Mitch that much harder, as well.
I finally couldn’t take it anymore – grabbed Aaron, my dream-man, and pulled him by the hair up to me as I began fucking him even harder. He grunted but complied, and didn’t say a word when I forcefully turned his face around to meet mine. I leaned in, and – still ramming the hottest ass I’d ever been inside – forced Aaron to kiss me, holding him by the neck and my tongue forcing its way into his mouth until his teeth parted and then we were kissing, making out, our tongues dancing inside each other’s mouths until I realized my dream hadn’t been truly fulfilled until now, because suddenly he was saying …
“Fuck me, oh my GOD fuck me, man,” Aaron whispered into my mouth, between kisses. “Oh FUCK yeah – harder, Dennis – oh SHIT, mothafucker, fuck meeeeeeee …”
And I did – shit, NEVER in my fucking life have I fucked a guy so hard – before or since. We finally stopped the kissing (which I could have done forever – that alone was brining me close to shooting), and Aaron got his focus back to pick up my rhythm until he was really slamming it to Mitch as hard as I was hitting his tight, wet ass. It was insane – the moaning, groaning, and crying out – and I swear I even heard Mitch say, “Oh yeah – fuck me, papi, fuck me hard …” –
When all of a sudden Aaron yelled, “Shiiiit – I’m gonna COME!!” and with one thrust up Mitch’s hole he howled – yeah, HOWLED – and his crotch was stuck to Mitch’s ass and I could feel his legs, his entire body, tremble as his heavy nuts unloaded everything they had up and into Mitch’s straight, ex-cop ass – Aaron’s face scrunching up, eyes squeezed so tightly shut I thought they’d never open again, as the force of his orgasm blew brain cells, too.
That did it for me, and I grabbed Aaron around the waist and pumped one last time – crotch affixed to his ass – before my mind exploded and so did my dick. I could see the room spin and primary colors blossom before my eyes, as my cock erupted inside Aaron and started shooting my hot, creamy jizz inside him, my balls and that vein in my shaft pumping load after load of cum inside my fantasy man – the hot, straight Latino whose ass seemed to wrap even more tightly around my prick, draining my nuts dry and filling his ass with every drop of jizz I had.
We both collapsed on top of Mitch, knocking the air out of the little guy. Sweat stuck our bodies together, and I thought I had died and gone straight to heaven on the Green Line bus. For a brief second my mind turned to Aaron, and I thought: I am in love with this guy. I shook the thought before it had time to take hold.
We pried our sticky selves away from each other about ten minutes later – it took that long for us to each catch our breath. Aaron untied Mitch’s hands from behind his back. He wouldn’t – couldn’t – look at us, as we watched him slip his black jeans and shirt back on long enough to head toward the outside, toward the public bathroom to clean up.
Aaron stayed as far away from me as he could when he dressed – obviously embarrassed. I got back into my clothes in silence, as well. It was a chilly silence.
Before I left, I grabbed up Mitch’s cell phone – which had fallen to the floor during our break-neck fucking – and deleted all the photos from it. I was tired, still sweaty, my dick sore – I just wanted to get home. Aaron watched me delete the pics, and nodded his thanks when I looked up and caught his eye. I smiled, nodding back.
I made sure my own phone was in the pocket of my jeans – where I had put it – and was just heading out the door, feeling kind of happy and sad at the same time – when Aaron’s voice stopped me.
“Dennis?” he asked.
I was halfway out, but stuck my head back in. “Yeah?”
Aaron was fully dressed now, but still on the other end of the room and looking way too serious for my liking. I think the whole thing had truly freaked him out. “What about your photos?” he asked. “The ones on your camera?”
I thought a moment. “Truth?” I asked.
“I won’t share them with anyone,” I replied. I looked at him, eyes roving up and down his physique, and that amazingly handsome face. “But if it’s okay with you – I’d like to keep them. To remember.”
He looked right at me, trying to understand what I meant. At last, he got it. A small smile played around his own full mouth – that mouth I had kissed so passionately, what now seemed like years ago. “I understand,” he said at last.
“Thanks.” I walked out of the office, then out the front door and away from the whole thing – Mitch, Aaron, the job. I never went back.
Sometimes sex with a straight guy – even with two straight guys – is the hottest thing in the world.
But sometimes – just sometimes – it also sort of sucks.