George's New Boy

When I was in my late 20's, I worked at an office that had an on-site gym. It wasn't fancy, but it was cheap, and being right there, kept me from making the usual excuses not to go. I'd come to work 90 minutes early, work out, shower and be ready for the day. I was in great shape back then -- 28 inch waist, 8 percent BMI. My abs were starting to show the results of daily crunches.

I was always the first one in, and the first one to the showers. They were three walls of square, with nozzles every five feet, with an open front. There was zero privacy. I preferred showering alone because the rush after a workout tended to get me hard, and I didn't want anyone in there to get the wrong impression (even though it was the right impression).

There was one guy who would arrive about 20 minutes after I started my workout. I should really say "man." His name was George, and he was an executive in another department. He was late 40's, maybe early 50's, with black hair starting to show some steel on the sides. I could tell he was built, even through the loose t-shirts he wore. His tight bike pants showed off powerful legs and a nice package. I avoided looking at him too much for fear I'd get a hardon I couldn't hide. Sometimes, though, I'd swear he was looking at me.

After about two weeks of these silent workouts, I hit the shower as usual. I had just gotten the water warm when George walked in and turned on the nozzle directly across from me. I couldn't help it, I took a quick peek. I was right about him being built. His chest was solid and muscular, without being too "body builder." His abs, too, were tight, but not overly developed. He was simply a manly man. His soft cock was about 4 inches, and fat. I imagined it grew impressively.

I had closed my eyes as I rinsed off the shampoo. When I opened them, George was staring directly at me. I said a polite good morning, which he didn't return. He continued staring, then threw a washcloth at me. It hit my chest and fell to the floor. "Wash your ass," he said.

"Excuse me?" I stammered.

"I said, 'Wash your ass.'"

I just looked at him, dumbfounded.

"I don't fuck a dirty ass." Intrigued, nervous, and turned on, I bent down to pick up the washcloth. My cock started to stiffen as I lathered up the cloth and worked it back between my cheeks. I rinsed off the soap and turned around to face him. "Now wash my cock." I walked over to him, cloth in hand. I reached toward his cock and he slapped the cloth out of my hands. "Not with the cloth, boy." I looked at him, not quite getting it. He put a hand on my shoulder and started pushing down.

I got on my knees and started to bath his soft cock with my tongue. As I suspected, it grew to a fat 8", his sleek head slightly smaller than the shaft. My own cock was rock hard as I licked his, dipping down to suck on his balls while working the shaft with my hand. After a couple of minutes, George grabbed me by the hair and raised my head up. He held his cock straight out. "Open." He snarled. I opened my mouth as he pulled me closer by the hair, his meat forcing its way in. He didn't give me time to adjust and I started to gag. He pulled out quickly and turned my head up to look at him. "Do it right, boy." He pushed his dick back into my throat and held it there a moment, allowing me to relax and accommodate him. Still holding me by the hair, he pulled me down on his cock and pushed me off. He wasn't fucking my face so much as using my mouth to masturbate with.

He used me like that for about five minutes. The hard tile floor made my knees hurt, and I was afraid that someone would walk in and see what George was doing to me, but I was turned on like never before, my own hard cock dripping precum and swaying each time George moved my head.

George pulled me off his cock and tugged upward on my hair. I stood and he turned me to face the wall, pulling back on my hips. He squatted behind me and spread my cheeks, spitting into my puckered hole. He stood and spit into his hand, using it to lube himself. He took my ass like he had taken my mouth -- no fingers or tongue to loosen me up, just his slick meat pushing all the way in without stopping. I gasped from the pain, but gradually loosened up as George began to work his 8 inches in and out my chute. I reached down to jack my cock, but he slapped my hand away. "This isn't about you," he hissed in my ear. "You cum when I say you cum." His thrusts grew harder and faster, banging against my prostate, making every nerve in my ass sing. I wanted desperately to cum, his raw fucking of me kept me right on the edge. If I could just touch my cock, even a little, I knew it would erupt. I started to reach for it again. George drove hard into me, pushing me up against the tile wall. "What did I tell you, boy?" He demanded.

"Not to...not to cum until you..." I stammered.

"Until I what?" He ground his cock even deeper.

"Until you say so."

"Until I say so what?" He began hammering my ass with short strokes.

"Sir! Until you say so, sir!" I barked, wild with lust. "Until you say so, sir!"

He eased up, pulling his cock out of me as he let me back from the wall. My hole was gaping, my legs trembling. George let me catch my breath for about20 seconds, then pulled my hips back and drove into me again. He fucked me with long strokes, sometimes pulling all the way out only to stab back in. I could hear his breathing quicken, and his thrusts got faster, more frenzied. He grunted in my ear as his hot spunk splashed my insides, his member swelling with each jet of cream. He pulled out of me, rinsed his cock in the shower spray and walked out. I stood there, his cum dripping out of my ass and down my legs. I scooped up a gob of it and lubed my cock. Just a few short strokes and I sprayed wildly, painting the tiles with my jizz.

George fucked me in the shower every day for a week, never touching me except to push and pull me to whatever position gave him the most pleasure, always walking away as soon as he'd cum. I'd stroke one out as soon as he'd gone. My ass throbbed the rest of the day, my cock stiffening at the memory of each morning. If George saw me in the hallways or in an elevator, he wouldn't even acknowledge my presence.

My boss called me in one afternoon. I was being assigned work on a team project with George's office. I was introduced to Pete, one of George's staff. Pete was a year or two older than me and several grades higher. He was handsome and friendly, with short brown hair and amazing blue eyes that seemed to be looking me over. After the meeting, Pete asked me to lunch at the cafeteria.

We sat down, and he gave me the once over again, half smiling. "You must be George's new boy," he said.

"What?" I started to blush, and my cock started to stiffen.

"You're just his type," Pete said. "How's the old pucker? I bet you can still feel him in there."

"I don't know what you're..." I started to say but Pete cut me off.

"He throws a mean fuck, doesn't he? I don't think I could walk after the first time."

My cock was fully hard. I was glad the table was hiding it from view.

"Has he let you cum, yet?" Pete asked. I told him no, but that I had been finishing myself off once George would leave. Pete laughed. I relaxed, knowing that Pete had been exactly where I was. Maybe he still was.

Another week passed with George fucking me raw every morning, then ignoring me the rest of the day. The following Monday, Pete called me and told me to meet him in George's office.

I went in and, without even looking at me, George told me to close the door. Pete sat across from George's desk. I went to sit in the open chair next him.

"Who told you to sit?" George barked. Startled, I stood back up. George stayed silent for a minute or so, leaving me standing, not looking at me.

I couldn't take the silence. "Is there something that I..." George cut me off.

"Who told you to talk?!"

I stood there wondering what the hell was going on. George leaned back in his chair.

"Have I told you that you could cum, boy?" he demanded.

"No."

"No what?"

"No sir."

"But you seem to think it's alright."

"But I...I haven't..." I started to lie. George looked over at Pete.

"Has he or hasn't he?" George asked. Pete replied that I had been jerking off as soon as George would leave. That son of a bitch! I couldn't believe he'd rat me out.

"How many times, boy?"

I struggled to speak. "Um..."

"Twenty one times, sir," Pete answered. The bastard.

George stood and pushed his chair back. "Come here, boy." I went to his side of the desk. He placed me facing Pete across the desk and stood behind me. "Drop them," he said. I hesitated and he tugged my pants and shorts down to my ankles and pushed me down on the desk, my naked ass exposed. Pete grabbed my hands and pulled me tight. George smacked my ass hard with his open hand. I gasped.

"Count 'em off," George commanded, as he smacked me again.

"Two!" I said, trying not to yell.

"You skipped one, boy. Start again." George whacked me again.

"One!" I counted through all twenty-one blows, my hard cock rubbing against George's desk as he punished me. My ass was stinging and tingling in a way it never had before. When he finished he stepped away and Pete let go of my hands. I started to get up, but thought better of it. I had not been given permission.

George noticed. "That's good, boy. You're starting to learn." He started to stroke my reddened ass. "You do what I say, and only when I say it. You belong to me now. " He walked around the desk and told Pete to stand up. Pete said, "Yes, sir!" and stood immediately. I could see a bulge in his trousers.

"Pete," George said, "You've been a very good boy. Do what you want with him." George sat on the corner of the desk as Pete came around behind me, lubed up with his spit and sank his cock into my ass with one push, fucking me just the way George had taught him.