I laughed. Just shook my head and laughed. “Well, thank you. And I know. About the fried chicken.”
Ted shrugged. “Your conversation makes up for it. And your ass.” He wiped his hands thoroughly on his napkin, grinning at me. “Can I have a tour of the kitchen?”
“Come on in.” I beckoned for him to come around the counter.
He got to his feet, offering me a sly smile. “Always wondered what it was like back there.”
I pushed open the double doors and made a wide Vanna White gesture. “Welcome to the kitchen. Here’s the standing freezer—”
“Stop right there. I like the standing freezer.” He backed me against it, his big, wiry hands tight on my hip bone.
I swallowed. This close, I could smell the fried chicken on his breath, the warm tang of his sweat. He just watched me, lips curved slightly upward, waiting for me. There were windows. We could be seen. My reputation—
Fuck my reputation.
I slid my hands up the sides of his face and gently pulled his glasses off, resting them on the top of the freezer. I’d seen him without his glasses once before, on a bad night, when he’d pulled them off to rub at his eye sockets with the heel of his hand; seeing his eyes this way was much more satisfying. I pulled him toward me, tilting my head to place a kiss on his upturned lips.
The first touch was electric. His mouth opened immediately for my tongue, his hips arching up for me at the same time. I wrapped one arm around his waist, dragging him against me, but he shoved me back, pinning me against the cool exterior of the freezer.
“Goddamn,” he moaned against my mouth. “Why the hell didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” I slid my hands along his belt, easing the tongue out of the buckle.
“Small town. Not a good place to go professing attraction for boys,” Ted grinned, tugging my shirt out of my jeans.
“Same here.” I yanked Ted’s zipper down, shoved my hand down his Calvins. His cock was thick and heavy already, a hot moist heft below crisp, dark curls. His hips bucked toward me uncontrollably, and I grinned and made a fist for him to thrust into.
“Not enough.” Ted pulled the bar apron from around my waist and dropped it to the floor, then tore into my slacks with a hunger I hadn’t seen in him, even for Barry’s fried chicken.
“Not enough,” I agreed. In moments his jeans were around his thighs and my slacks were at my ankles, my ass cold against the freezer door.
“I suppose the health department doesn’t look too kindly on this kind of thing,” Ted moaned against my mouth, his rough hand wrapping around my cock.
“Health department guy’s on vacation.” I grabbed Ted’s ass, dragged him hard against me. “I’ll clean up, promise.”
“Suck me off?” Ted bit at my neck, just below my ear, and words failed me.
I moaned instead and slid to my knees, my discarded apron cushioning them from the cracked linoleum floor. Ted’s cock bobbed upward in anticipation, and I wrapped my lips around the head, humming softly at the dark, salty taste of him.
“Fuck,” Ted moaned, leaning forward to brace his forearms on the freezer. “Won’t last.”
I pulled back, rubbing my hand over his spit-slick cock. “Don’t want you to.” I took him deep then, wrapping my arms around his waist. I heard his fingers claw at the lid of the freezer, so fucking hot, and kept going as quickly as I could.
Ted cupped one strong, calloused hand around the back of my head, and I opened wide to receive his thrusts all the way into the back of my throat. His groans echoed off the walls of the tiny kitchen as he came, hot salty jets across the back of my tongue, and I closed my eyes as I swallowed him down.
“Christ,” he breathed, clinging to the freezer as he backed up to let me off my knees. “That was really good.”
I kissed him lightly, still savoring the taste of him in my mouth. “It was.”
Ted gave me a sudden, boyish grin, pressing me up tight against the freezer. “Ever been sucked off in your diner before?”
“Uh—no,” I gasped, shuddering at the way his hip bone was snugged just so against my cock, “but if you keep coming around I’ll be happy to—make it a habit….”
Ted snorted out a little laugh, leaning down to brush a kiss against my lips. “Me too.” He pressed closer, forcing my ass firmly against the cool freezer, and slid one hand down over my cock.
“Fuck—won’t last long,” I groaned, shifting so I could wrap my hand around his.
“Mmm. Show me.” Ted leaned his hand up gently into mine.
So I did: I gripped his hand and showed him how to stroke me, tight and long. There was a certain lightness to his eyes, a joy in the playful aspects of our situation even as he worked hard to drive me completely out of my mind. He leaned down over me, brushing his lips against my ear. “Wanted you from the first time,” he panted. “Thought about bending you over the counter and having to untie your little apron before I unbuckled your belt.” He slid down to his knees, and I braced my arm against the wall behind the freezer in preparation.
“Wanted to suck you off right there on the barstool,” I offered in return, barely breathing. His lips nearly touched my cockhead. I felt his breath against my slit.
Ted gave me another one of those brilliant, half-crazy smiles. “No reason we can’t do all of the above,” he said, and sucked me down.
It was like Ted’s mouth was made for my cock. He hollowed his cheeks, playing his tongue up along the underside and teasing the spot where the shaft met the cockhead. I tangled my fingers in his hair, watching him find a slow, steady rhythm. He cupped my balls in one hand, teasing behind them gently with his fingertips, and my knees buckled. “Close,” I hitched out.
He pulled back, fondling my balls firmly. “I had a feeling,” he smirked, and set to sucking me as hard and fast as I’d ever been treated to before.
“Oh, god,” I groaned, rising up on my toes, working my hips forward in time to the sucking, smacking passes of his mouth. My balls tightened in his hand, and with one last moan I came, holding his head close, thrusting my cock along his tongue as spasm after spasm wracked me and he swallowed every drop.
I sagged against the freezer, completely spent. Ted got to his feet, his hands on my hips, and nuzzled into my neck. “Damn, I needed that,” he grinned, kissing me on the lips. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” I nodded toward the windows out to the darkened street; in the distance, the streetlights blinked yellow. “Hoping the cop doesn’t see the lights on after closing and check up on me.”
“Mmm. D’you have a bathroom where we can clean up?”
“Yeah.” I pushed away from the freezer, picking up my slacks just to carry them in front of me modestly as I led the way to the tiny employee-only washroom.
“That’s better,” Ted murmured, and pressed me tight against the wall beside the toilet, kissing me hungrily.
I grunted, startled, but quickly returned the kiss, dropping my slacks to drag him closer by his still-open jeans. He slid those big hands around the small of my back, crushing me against him until his tongue was down my throat and I could barely breathe. When he pulled back, it was only far enough to look into my eyes. His lips quirked up fondly, and he carded the tips of his fingers through my hair.
“Is Barry working tomorrow night?”
I grinned. “No. Morning shift.”
“Good. See you for a quickie?”
“Absolutely.”
I breezed into the diner the following afternoon with a huge grin. There was no point in trying to hide it; I was pretty sure I’d even smiled in my sleep. “How’s business?” I asked Barry.
“Booming. Hey, question for you.” He rested a pair of black-rimmed glasses on the counter.
I glanced at him; he was still wearing his. “What are those?”
“Found them on the floor by the freezer.”
I swallowed. “Oh.”
Barry shook his head. “Listen, you kno
w I don’t mind the night shift too much. If you want me to take one so you two can use an actual bed sometime, I would.”
I blinked. “What?”
He lowered his head, staring at me mock-accusingly over the rims of his glasses. “It wasn’t hard to piece together, even before these.” He waved the glasses. “You’ve never been this interested in my marriage before. Marilyn says hi, by the way, and thanks for the flowers.”
“Uh.” I looked away, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. “I guess I figured you’d be against that kind of thing.”
Barry shrugged. “You must want it pretty bad if you’re getting it on in the kitchen. It’s none of my business anyway, but it’s not like I can’t relate, too.”
I shook my head again. “Well, thanks. I didn’t expect this.”
“I have a feeling you didn’t expect him, either,” Barry winked. “You let me go home a few hours and rest up, and I’ll come back before your fella gets here.”
“Thank you, Barry.”
“You’re welcome.” He winked again, wiping his hands on his apron. “Don’t forget: we’re not all conservative around here.”
RED RIGHT
Dominic Santi
You have a beautiful butt, Sir.”
I concentrated on my hand, thrusting again, waiting until Martin’s asslips snugged up tight around my wrist before I answered. “You think so, punk?”
“Yes, Sir,” he gasped, shivering appreciatively as I carefully turned my fist.
Martin’s hot young body was pure eye candy, especially when he was stripped down to just a leather harness, his combat boots, and the gold bar in his right nipple. I knew he was legal—I’d made him show me two IDs our first time together. But his curly brown hair and big brown puppy-dog eyes, and my knowing he worked as a bicycle messenger, kept me very aware of the sizeable difference in our ages.
I hadn’t restrained him this time. I wanted to see if he could hold himself in place with just a voice command. He’d made me proud. I pressed deep again. He groaned, gripping the chains suspending the sling. His legs were spread wide, his puffy asslips glistening under a heavy frosting of Elbow Grease. The room echoed with his guttural cries each time my fist slid over his prostate. His biceps strained, hard and sexy, as he held on, dripping sweat, his eyes closed tight.
I eased my hand out, quietly fingering him while he caught his breath. We’d been playing all evening. Martin’s low purrs told me he was getting tired. His soft cock rested contentedly on his belly. He never got hard when my hand was in him. As usual, my dick was so hard I hurt. I’d considered having him suck me off before we called it a night. But his comment got me thinking. I had an inkling this particular punk was not all bottom.
I moved to the side of the sling. Martin dropped one hand and tentatively reached toward me. When I nodded, he brushed his fingertips lightly over the smooth leather of my chaps. I tried to hide my shiver as his hand glided up my thigh and burned onto my hip. His fingertips were hot, the way I liked a man’s hand to feel sliding over my ass. Martin didn’t know it, but this particular daddy was not all top.
“Wow, Sir. Your skin feels great. Smooth and hard and kind of, you know, silky.” Martin blushed at the unaccustomed flowery words. His voice was a firm, steady tenor. He’d be able to do a lot with it when he learned how.
“You think so?” My eyes wanted to close, to sink into the sensation of those powerful fingers curling around my ass. Instead, I slowly worked my hand back inside him.
“Yes, Sir.” Martin breathed with my strokes for a while, clenching my asscheek instead of the chain. When I rested my hand, his fingers slid down into my crack. Touching. Feeling. Learning me. His fingertip brushed lightly over my asslips.
“Your ass is hot, Sir.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Martin had a firm, steady grip. And for the first time, his cock was filling with my hand inside him. I watched as his flesh grew harder and longer and redder than I’d imagined it could. His balls tightened as I almost imperceptibly turned my fist. I twisted, pumping slowly, rubbing his prostate and reveling in his groans. I shifted my weight, moving my left leg to the side, spreading my thighs for him. The cool air fluttered against my asslips as they kissed his fingertip. My own dick got painfully harder.
“So hot, Sir—unh!” Martin clutched my asscheek hard, staring wide-eyed as a translucent pearl oozed from his piss slit. He looked down at his dick like he couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.
“You like that?” I tried to keep my breathing steady and almost managed it.
“Yes, Sir,” he whispered, grinding his shoulders against the sling. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about my touching him, or his touching me. I didn’t think he knew.
Then his eyes widened as his brain registered what his fingers were feeling. I’d greased myself. I always did—a throwback to the old days. It was plain Vaseline. I hadn’t been fucked in years, and my dildos didn’t mind if the rubbers broke. My asslips could kiss against each other all evening as I fisted my unsuspecting bottoms.
But something flickered in this one’s eyes. As I curled my fist against his joyspot, another tear of precum leaked out of him. He grimaced, a cry breaking from his throat as his dick jerked. His whole body stiffened, clamping around my hand. In that same breath, Martin shoved three fingers up me, all the way to the knuckle. I arched forward, gasping at the pain and the burn and the unexpected stretch. The sensations rippled through my ass, and with no warning, my untouched cock spurted jizz onto Martin’s belly, the long white ropes mixing with his as he threw back his head and howled out his climax.
I leaned my forehead against a leg chain, willing myself to hold still, trying to catch my breath as my heart pounded in my ears. I couldn’t decide whether to beat Martin for his insolence or kiss him in relief.
He didn’t give me much chance to think. I was still panting when he pulled his fingers out of my ass and stroked my asscheek.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” he smiled, wiggling his butt at me and failing miserably to look repentant. “But I really want your ass. If I mind my manners, will you teach me?” He groaned as I took a deep breath and started carefully working my hand back out of him. “Please, Sir? Unh!”
“Let your body finish enjoying the trip,” I growled, pulling my fingers free. “There will be years and years for you to work this side of the fence.” His hole purred so appreciatively, I couldn’t be mad. My fingertips stilled as they kissed over his puffy lips. I took a deep breath. “Saturday night, punk. If this is what you want, I’ll be ready for you then.”
“Yes, Sir! I’ll be here, Sir!”
I’d resigned myself to being a top years ago. It seemed part of growing older, and I loved giving pleasure to other men. Deep inside I still saw myself as a slutty bottom. But no matter how I felt, the mirror still showed me a “mature” face. Short-cropped, steel-gray hair. Icy blue eyes. Sleek, black chest pelt touched with silver that rippled smoothly when I flexed. I prided myself on having maintained my physique, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think I still had the body I’d had at twenty. Or thirty. Or even forty, dammit. My dick still looked good, though, nicely proportioned with a thick mushroom cap. My hand and I made sure it stayed in shape, even when I took a break from prowling the bars. And my balls hung lower now. I liked that—it made them look bigger.
My asshole was in fine shape, too. I treated it to a good workout with a dildo at least once a week. But I hadn’t been fisted in almost twenty years. And in all that time, I hadn’t called another man, “Sir.” I made a ritual of getting ready. On Saturday, I dutifully lubed up a small plug and stuffed it up my ass, switching to gradually larger ones as I spent the morning scrubbing the playroom until it was sterile enough for surgery. That afternoon, I went into the bathroom and cleaned out in a way I hadn’t done in a helluva lot of years either. Martin was due at 4:00. I finished up by putting on a plain white jock and the leather chaps he liked so well.
Martin was punctu
al, as usual. I recognized the sound of his boots on the sidewalk. This time, though, his sharp knock was decidedly arrogant. As I started to open the door, he barked, “Turn around and close your eyes!”
“Yes, Sir,” I smiled, obeying at once.
The door closed in back of me. His backpack thumped on the floor, amid a shuffling of clothing, zippers and snaps.
“Okay. You can look now.”
I did. My little bottom punk stood there wearing his boots, new chaps with a leather codpiece, and a new leather vest that showed off the shiny gold bars—in both his nipples!
He grinned as he saw where I was looking. “You like?”
“Very becoming,” I laughed.
“Thanks,” he blushed. “I wanted to do something to mark the occasion.”
I leaned forward, toward his chest, then caught myself. “May I, Sir?”
“Um, it’s still too sore to touch.”
“I’ll be careful, Sir.”
When he nodded, I bent my head and placed a gentle circle of kisses around the tender, swollen peak. I could almost taste his pride, in himself, and in the beauty of his proud, erect young nipple. I traced the outline of his pecs with my tongue, reveling in the sleek strength of his smooth, muscular chest and the light dusting of young fur. Then I turned my attention to his other nipple. I tugged lightly on the bar with my teeth. He gasped, his hips arching forward, his cock swelling as hard and fast as my own.
His hands didn’t come up to hold my head, though. Martin stood there, hands obediently at his side, the way I’d taught him. I realized I was going too fast. With a final kiss, I took his hands in mine, and dropped to my knees.
“Thank you, Sir.” I pressed my forehead to his hands. “You have beautiful nipples.”
“Thanks, Sir. Um, I mean, you’re welcome, S—I mean…” he stopped, flustered, breathing hard. “Give me a sec. I’m a little confused right now, S—Karl.” Martin moved one hand tentatively out of my grip and put it on top of my head. “Just wait a minute.”
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