Shop Sex

Shit, I think I’m fuckin’ goin‘ nuts. Goddamn, who’da thunk it would happen to me. I was always straight as a freakin’ arrow all my life. The fuckin’ fag had to come into my life...

I sat at the computer that day looking over the record of deliveries at Tire City, the repair shop I work at for the last ten years. It was a very slow morning, and the icy snow falling outside made the parking lot look like a frozen lake. Not a customer had pulled in since we opened two hours earlier. I looked up to see a white Mustang convertible drift into the driveway and slide to a stop at the door. They may be fun in the summer, but they are a bitch in snow: no weight in the back, they slip around like a toboggan. I could see one tire was almost flat. I motioned through the plate glass window for the driver to pull around back, and I went through to meet him. The throaty ‘Stang pulled into the bay in a swirl of wet air. I smelled the hot engine under the hood as the driver shut it down.

Now, let me set you straight, I never thought of homo sex with a guy, but I couldn’t help noticing this one. He was certainly different than the gang I hang with. Girly smooth face with two dimples like quotation marks around his mouth. Well dressed in dark wool slacks and a cream-colored knit shirt that clung to his chest. I saw his nipples under the thin fabric, perky and erect. I’ve always been a tit man, used to drive my wife nuts, sucking on her nipples till they were red. My only thought the day she left me for her personal trainer was that I wouldn’t ever get to taste those boobs again.

He was thin, but defined. I watched his legs flex as he squatted next to the punctured tire, showing me the spike he had picked up on the road somewhere. The rim was badly bent, a tough repair on chrome wheels. I leaned in behind him and could smell his shiny yellow hair, sweet and fragrant, like it was just washed. What the fuck!

Scrambling to my feet, I returned to the desk to write up the repair. The snow continued to fall as he followed me in, and introduced himself to me.
“My name is Justin, nice to meet you.” He said in a soft, wispy voice. He sounded a little faggy, but not effeminate. Cultured, y’know what I mean? I told him my name was Robert, but call me Rob.

“I don’t have much cash with me, you take charges?” Justin confided to me. “And, how long do you think it will take to fix? I can’t walk home from here, especially with this snow!”

Ya, we take charges, but I explained that there were several jobs before him, so he could get comfortable in the waiting room, or could watch me in the back for a while. He chose to come around to the shop, and I gave him a cuppa my crappy coffee. Figured it would put some hair on that chest of his. Damn, that chest!
Sometimes, when it’s slow like this, I get a little horny. On the workbench next to the car bay I keep a stack of raunchy magazines, and occasionally I slip into the washroom to take care of business between jobs. I looked up from under the hood of a big brown Caddy I was working on, and saw Justin flipping through one of them. He smirked and looked over to me, and our eyes met. I smiled back.

“ass Man” magazine...full of big-busted women with dark sloppy cunts getting fucked up the butt by big burly dudes. It was one of my favorite issues. There’s a group of pictures taken in a workshop, this big black man just plugging a bitch, right there on the bench. Her huge white tits were pinched into large metal c-clamps, the kind that you twist to tighten. You could see the agony in her face as the twelve-inch dick slid into her ass. I got hot just thinkin’ about it. I wondered what this little faggot Justin thought of the shots?
Justin looked from the magazine, and back to me. He reached for his belly, and started to rub himself under the sweater.

I couldn’t concentrate. The image in my head of the bitch getting fucked kept getting mixed up with Justin, rubbing that flat belly. I asked Justin to come over and hold the work light for me. Shit, I was probably gonna jerk off this afternoon anyway, why not let this pussy-boy do it for me? He leaned into the Seville and pressed his hip against my shoulder.

“That okay, Rob? You got enough light?” He asked. “Was that your magazine? Pretty hot stuff. Sure looks like they are having a ball, huh? You ever have sex here in the shop?” I knew where he was going. Hell, this kid was just askin’ for it! I wiped the grease from my hands and grabbed him by the arm. He came willingly to the shop bench. I opened my Mack Truck belt buckle and unzipped my pants as Justin dropped to his knees in front of me. He took my hardening dick in his hand and put the head up against his soft pink lips. My boxers fell around my ankles as I slid into his mouth.

I’m a big man, in case I hadn’t told you, used to play football in high school. My body has gotten a little stocky since then, but I still turn the ladies heads when I enter a room. My chest is broad and covered in brown hair. My arms are pumped, the biceps the size of cantaloupes. They stand out from my body giving me a gorilla look; some women really dig that. My belly is big but hard, and also coated with fur all the way down to my pubes. My cock is long, no bitch ever complained ‘bout that, except that it’s also really thick and can be a pain if her cunt is too small. The fag was having some trouble sucking on it, I felt him choke as he tried to adjust to the fat fucker pushing on the back of his throat. (Too goddamn bad, you wanted it now take it!)

I picked up “Ass Man” and turned to the pics of the bitch’s ass all stretched and slippery, the dude’s big black pole slipping between her pink cheeks. Shit, that turns me on! I grabbed Justin’s curly blonde head and pulled it into my crotch. He moaned and gagged. Justin pulled himself off my cock and looked up to me.
“You like fucking ass? I’m okay with that, if you wanna try...” he whispered. “Just like in the magazine?” I saw lust in his eyes, he was hot for my dick, but I knew he had to be a little scared to take my salami up the tube. Shit, man, why not? I just wanted to nut, and his warm tight asshole would be a great place to do it. I figured he knew I wasn’t no fag, and he wasn’t gonna get nuthin’ from me other than a thank you.