Date: Fri, 19 Feb 1999 11:23:51 PST From: Horatio Nimier Subject: DAVE This post contains explicit descriptions of sex between consenting adults. Much of it portrays homosexual actions and lifestyle. If homosexuality, sexually explicit language, or swearing offends you, or if reading material that contains these violates any law or personal or religious beliefs you must exit now without proceeding further. If you're under 18 years old you may not read it either because it is against the law. I regret this because I was once a randy teenager and I feel somewhat two-faced in helping to enforce the law. Hopefully, one day, censorship may disappear along with other vestiges of Big Brother and Mother Grundy. The story is fictional inasmuch as things did not unfold as portrayed. It is based on events that happened on two business trips that did take place. These memories have been cemented together with strips of fiction to make the story cohere. Names and places have been changed. The stories are dedicated to the memory of my friend, Kerry. DAVE ===== I finished my lunch, picked up my can of Coke and leaned back in my chair. Outside the green leaves on the orange trees that decorated the plaza barely moved in the midday stillness. My mind seemed to be just as paralyzed and equally incapable of thought. I needed some time to think about what I was going to do. Shit! Why today of all days did Colin have to be out of town ? It was Tuesday, the second day of a five-day class I was giving on Assembly Language Programming for beginners. The course was intense -- hard on both the students and instructor. The morning session had been grueling as the students struggled to grasp the difference between load and load-address: the concept of an address and the contents of that address. This is the pons asinorum of any assembly language course and, as lunchtime came around I thought the class had finally got it. When we broke they were drained and so was I. I had gone to the cafeteria for lunch and was walking back to my office with a cup of hot liquid that the label insisted was coffee when the p.a. system announced that there was a phone call for me. Still too far from my phone, I had slipped into an empty office to take the call. Leaning against the wall with the handset propped against my ear I was only half-aware of one of the guys from my class walking past. The lights in the office were off so Dave was not aware of my presence. Absent mindedly my eyes followed him as he strode down the corridor. His brown leather bomber jacket hung down half covering his ass, well defined in his tight black jeans, and I was so intent on looking at his body that I only subconsciously noted the pale yellow punch card folded in half in his hand. It was odd -- we never used punch cards any more and I wondered where he'd got it from. They made real neat pocket-sized note pads. By the time I was finished with the phone call my coffee was cold and Dave's ass was a memory. I strolled up the passage, pulled the mail from my box and walked into my office. As I lifted the first envelope, something dropped to the floor. I bent down and picked it up. It was a pale yellow punch card, folded in half and stapled closed. My curiosity piqued, I put the other mail aside and opened the note. It was a single sentence: 'If you are interested in having male sex, wear a yellow shirt to work tomorrow.' Panic mode! Dive! Dive! Dive! Geez.....how had I slipped up ? Who knew? Surely I wasn't THAT obvious? I was still deep in the closet and had absolutely every intention of keeping it that way. Colin and I had talked about moving in together, but as yet it was just an idea between the two of us. He still kept his apartment and I had my shack. And we sure kept our act clean around work. The mid-west is not California and the insurance industry is even more conservative than most, so we didn't go out of our way to show any evidence of affection. Who had put this note in my box? While I churned through the possibilities, my short-term memory was being scanned randomly and suddenly dumped into my mind the image of Dave in the corridor. He'd had a punch card in his hand hadn't he ? Dave? Naah! I interacted with him about once or twice a day at the office and occasionally we'd been part of the same group going out to lunch, but we'd never had any kind of conversation that could vaguely have been considered personal. Could it be true ? Could he have written the note or was my mind in the grips of auto-suggestion? He seemed like an OK guy. He was smart, a hard worker and real friendly. And he had a good body, too! In the class that morning I could hardly keep my eyes off his tight jeans as he worked with a group of students on a problem I had given them. On the other hand, what if he was not as upright as I thought ? Assuming it was Dave, what would happen tomorrow if I wore a yellow shirt and Dave said nothing ? He'd know I was gay and I could say nothing. What if half the production control group was in it together with Dave? All sitting at their desks in the morning waiting to see my shirt. Let's see if it's true that the new guy's queer. But then, have I mentioned he's got a neat ass ? I sat, nursing my Coke, going through all the arguments, evaluating all the choices, and considering all the possible outcomes right until class time. In the end I decided to follow my gut feeling: I felt that Dave was an OK guy, but, just to be safe, I'd put the ball back in his court. I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote on it 'Yellow T-shirt OK for tomorrow.' If he were not the instigator it would mean nothing to him and I'd be safe, though little wiser. I picked up my pile of handouts for the afternoon session, slipped the note between the sheets of the bottom one and walked into the class. I came in at the back and started giving out the papers. Dave was in the front row. As I walked up I kept on looking in his direction. If he was wondering whether I'd seen the note, he showed no sign. He seemed the same as this morning. He was rocking back in his chair, the collar of his brown leather bomber jacket was half turned up, partially concealed by his blond hair that hung down over it. I gave him the handout without a word and carried on walking to the front of the class. I turned on the overhead projector. As I adjusted the foils, I saw him thumb through the pages and the note caught his eye. He picked it up and read it. His eyes met mine and his face went pale and then bright red. He put his hands on the table and leaned forward in his chair so, for an instant, I thought he was going to run out the room. Bingo! Target acquired! I gave no hint of acknowledgment, but started giving my pitch. During the first hour I didn't direct any of the questions to him and he didn't interact in the class. As usual at the end of the hour I called a ten-minute ‘ine' break (for caffe-, nicot- or ur-). Everyone bolted for the door -- except Dave. He acted busy until the others had gone out and then came up to the front. He looked me straight in the eye. "Chris, how the fuck did you know it was me ? Nobody else knows. How did you find out ?" I saw the uncertainty in his blue eyes. I knew the feeling well. You've committed yourself now and the person you're talking to hasn't replied. What was the reply you were going to get this time ? Will it be the 'Leave me the fuck alone, fag' one ? Or perhaps the 'I can't believe you of all people are a fucking queer' one ? Or maybe this time you would luck out and it would be the urbane 'I respect your choice, but it's simply not my scene' reply -- and you know the story will be all over the office in an hour. I put my hand out and touched his leather-covered arm. "Dave! take it easy, man! Nobody told me. I saw you carrying the note at lunchtime. He paused momentarily, his mind in recall mode. His face relaxed some, but his eyes still searched mine. "Dave, listen," I went on "Nobody knows, OK ? I'm into ....er...I mean, I'm interested if you are. And I won't talk." He was uneasy. He had started something and had thought he could stay in control. Now he was on a runaway escalator. It was taking him where he wanted to go, but way, way too fast. I tried to lighten the load. "Why don't we go back to my place after work ? We can have some dinner, and then," I grinned at him, "you can help me choose that yellow shirt for tomorrow." He gave a short laugh. "Shit, Chris, you really had me scared," he said and lightly backhanded me across my jaw. "Tonight'll be fine. What time ? And where do you live ?" ------------------------------------------ "So this is home, huh ?" remarked Dave as we walked toward my shack. It had once been a small, off-the-highway gas station, but a lot of time and all my overtime pay had started to transform it, and it was now beginning to look like a legitimate habitation. I hadn't even seen a rat for over a month. "Yeah, more or less. Excuse the mess and make yourself right at home." "This is incredible," said Dave as I held the door open. "Beer's in the fridge. Help yourself." His eyes scanned the place. He walked across the room and stood looking out of the huge picture window where there had once been workshop doors. The Smithville Reservoir stretched out almost as far as the eye could see. I closed the door and put my helmet down on the table. I walked over and stood close behind his leather-jacketed back. Putting my arms around him, I gently massaged his breasts through the brown leather. I pulled him close, my cheek against the upturned collar letting the mingling scent of leather and the morning's aftershave reach my nostrils to further excite my hormones. My pelvis pressed against the tight denim across his butt, teasing my cock with the closeness of those muscles. "What'dja want to do," I asked. "Anything you want," said Dave pushing his cheek against mine hesitatingly. My hands moved down his jacket to the front of his jeans. Beneath the zipper something real hard lurked. I explored its outline with my fingers, squeezing the bulge. "Let's get out of these jeans," I suggested. We moved apart and took our sneakers and socks off. Dave began to unbuckle his belt, but I stopped him. "I'll do that. You take mine off." Undoing the buckles and the top button brought us close together again. I really wanted this guy. The zippers were easy and as the jeans opened Dave laughed. "Good taste in underwear, Chris." Both of us were wearing jock straps. I maneuvered his over the bulge. His erect cock stood straight out about six inches from a bush of spun gold. As Dave pulled my jockstrap down I fondled the phallus, admiring the foreskin pulling tight over the tip. Being cut myself, I'm partial to guys lucky enough to have been allowed to keep their foreskins. We stood face to face, gently pulling at each other's meat. The jeans around our knees were hampering us, so we paused to strip. When I was naked I put my biker jacket back on, loving the feeling of the heavy jacket on my tits and the look of the black leather on my body. Dave hesitated and then he, too, pulled his jacket back over his naked chest. His cock pulsed gently and I took it back in my hand and started to play with the foreskin. It was a really neat cock and it begged for more attention. Pushing him onto the sofa, I knelt on the floor next to him, took his cock into my mouth and began to push the foreskin back with my tongue. Probing against the tight skin I could taste the saltiness of a day's captivity within a jockstrap. Grudgingly the skin gave way to my tongue and the glans began to emerge, giving me the first taste of the pre-cum that had started to ooze out the tip. I let the head slide further to the back of my throat while my lips caressed the tight skin, all the time lapping my tongue up and down the vein on the underside of the cock. Dave leaned back on the sofa and ran his hands over his chest pinching his nipples. I worked his shaft over for a minute or so, then concentrated on the tip, washing the glans and that great foreskin. I moistened my lips and put them on his glans. I sucked gently and once again the head led the shaft into my mouth. To me oral sex is the greatest turn on. It involves all the senses touch, smell and taste, the slight sucking noises and the moans of ecstasy and, in front of my eyes, the abs with the light pathway of hair leading down into the pubes. My lips and tongue could feel the skin pulled tight over his shaft, my nose picked up the scents that any guy has after keeping a penis enclosed all day, and the dripping precum gave a gentle preview of what was to come (excuse the pun). I reveled in servicing him and would have brought him to climax, but he stopped me. "Chris, I'll come right now if you carry on like that. Let me suck you for a while." I rolled over onto the rug and he knelt between my legs. My spine tingled in anticipation as I felt his tongue on my tip, licking it as mine had done on his. His hand was squeezing my scrotum gently and pulling on it. He started to take my cock into his mouth. No hesitation there -- good guy. His lips were clamped on my shaft and it felt great until, on the way up, his teeth caught the bottom of my glans. "Hey, guy! Watch the teeth!" "Oh! Shit, Sorry, Chris. I'll be careful." He was true to his word and soon had me surging. I, too, felt that we needed to prolong this a bit so I got up onto my knees and pulled Dave toward me. My fingers combed his long hair and pulled his face onto mine. I saw the amazement in his eyes, but we were both raging now and his tongue was in my mouth, probing and exploring and wrestling with mine. I let my hand drop back to his cock and I started pulling on it again. Licking and kissing his neck lightly I moved my face downwards and nibbled at his tits, taking each one gently in my teeth and pulling at it. As his hands held my head, I licked his abdomen and then moved further down, past his navel, back to the pubes. Once more he lay down on the rug and, again, I began to eat his meat. His hands found my balls and I felt them being massaged with passion. "Oh, man, this is great," moaned Dave as he held my dick and began to move his fist up and down my shaft. I moved around and straddled his body so my cock was above his mouth. Then I went back to his meat. As I massaged it with my tongue I could feel Dave doing the same to mine. Just like remote control, I thought: I made circles on his glans and almost immediately I could feel his tongue going round and round on mine. But gradually he got too excited to concentrate and I felt his hands caressing my ass and then his fingers dug into my skin as he forced my cock deeper into his mouth. I didn't want to come before he did so I lifted my mouth off him and lay on my side pulling my cock from his lips. I let my left hand run through the blond bush and massage his scrotum while my right hand moved along his cock. I wanted to see his love juice spurt out and I wanted to taste it, too. He let go of my cock and lay back, eyes closed lost in some white-hot fantasy world. "OK, Dave. Shoot it out man. Let's get this cum out of you." I encouraged him as I moved my hand up and down his rigid penis just inches in front of my face. His mouth opened he threw his head back. His ass cheeks trembled and finally, with a thrust of his pelvis he began to shoot. The jism flew into my face and I moved over to catch it with my mouth and keep the stinging juice out of my eyes. Thick and slightly salty it tasted oh, so good. Dave sat up and pushed me down. His mouth wrapped around my cock and he began to take me in, his cheeks hollow as he sucked. "I'm coming!" I warned him, but he didn't move back as I had thought he might. With the taste of his cum in my mouth and the smell of it wafting into my nostrils from what remained on my face, I thrust my cock deep into his mouth as I shot. I heard him choke, but he recovered and continued his work sucking the last drops out. We collapsed together on the rug, lying next to each other catching our breath. I rubbed his chest under his jacket. "Shit, Chris, that was the greatest," he panted. "Yeah, you're good," I said. "Didn't think you'd swallow!" He looked across shyly. "Nor did I. I've never had cum in my mouth before." "You're kidding. You've tasted your own, of course ?" "No. I never tried it." He grinned. "And when you blew another guy ?" "Chris, you are the first guy I've ever had any sex with except for jack-offs at school." I sat up, leaning on one elbow so I could look at him. "No shit ?" I couldn't believe it. I thought I was restrained! "So what's with the note and all that 'guy sex' crap?" I asked and as an afterthought, "And why did you pick me?" "Fuck, Chris, all through college I fantasized about making out with a guy, but I was always too shit scared to ask anyone. I thought if I went out with enough girls I'd grow out of it, but it didn't work. When I got my job, most of my first salary check went to getting this jacket and some engineer boots. I'd begun to think that I would go through my whole life never having fucked anything but my hand. Then they hire you." He turned his head so he could look at me. "D'you know, I get up ten minutes earlier just so I can be there to watch you when you walk in. Every day you come into the office and you walk right down past my cubicle. You hang your helmet from your hand and you're wearing your bike jacket and the leather belt slaps against your jeans as you walk past. Most days I go to the john, then, and jack off thinking of you." I couldn't believe it. I thought I was smart. I thought I was a good guy. But I had never, ever thought that I would turn anyone on. Fuck! I wasn't Marlin Brando. Dave lay back with his hands behind his head and I stroked his chest. This was some guy. As the last couple of sperm elbowed their way out of his cock and ran down to hide in his bush he went on. "Then this morning when you were explaining to Alex about registers you were standing right in front of me. You had your thumbs hooked in your jeans pockets and your hands just framed your basket. I was drooling all over the desk. I just had to see your cock. I had to hold it. I had read somewhere of guys who wanted to jack-off together at school would wear yellow shirts on Thursdays, so I thought about the note. I didn't think you would ever find out who'd sent it." "Shit, guy ! You fucking amaze me !" I laughed. I didn't know what to say. "And you. How many guys have you had sex with ?" he asked slyly. "Not that many," I admitted. "Mostly hand-stuff in high school, too. One guy when I was a freshman in college, but he transferred. Everyone else I was friendly with was straight. I never even jacked off in front of my best buddy." "And now you work in Kansas City where we're the only two who aren't straight." He sat up, suddenly serious. "Chris, you can't tell anyone about what we do. I swear I'll kill myself if anyone else finds out." "'Do' ?" I asked picking on the word. "'Do'. Not 'Did' ?" I leaned forward and pinched his right nipple hard. "You mean you're going to come back for more ?" "Sure. You said I was good. You liked it, too, didn't you ?" He was still a little unsure of himself. "Of course I did, you dumb shit. You're great." "And you won't tell anybody at work that I'm a homo ?" "No, of course I won't." I paused. "Well, maybe I'll tell just one other person." "No. Fuck, Chris, no !" he was kneeling on the floor looking down at me with anxiety all over his face. "Why would you do that ? Who the fuck would you tell ?" I didn't say anything, just got up and went over to a chest of drawers and pulled out a photograph and gave it to him. The photograph was of my bike. I was lying far over the tank wearing nothing but my leather jacket. On the rear saddle, wearing his jacket, too, and with a big grin on his face because his cock was all the way into my ass, was Colin. "Colin ?" said Dave in amazement. "Colin's a homo, too ?" "Yup, but I guess, like me, he prefers the term 'gay'. We've been doing this most nights for about a month now. He'd have been here tonight but he's gone out to Gaithersburg for a couple of days." Dave smiled and shook his head. He couldn't let go of the photograph. "Man, I can't believe Colin's a ho.. a gay. I thought I was the only freak around." His cock was rock hard. "Well," I said, giving his dick a swipe as I stood up, "Let's go get a beer and get some dinner going. Then afterwards I think I'll teach you how to fuck a guy." "On your bike ? Like Colin ?" he seemed eager now. "I dunno....For the first time I think maybe on your back on the bed with your feet on my shoulders." I laughed. "I want to see your face when I go in." I went to my room, got two pairs of ragged cut-offs out of my cupboard and threw one pair to Dave. "Put these on so you don't get your dick caught in the can opener." It was a warm evening and I admired Dave's body as I opened a beer and handed it to him. I opened my bottle and then brought the base down hard on the table. Immediately a white foam came gushing out the top and spilled down the side and over my hand. "See," I said holding it up, "It's a male beer -- it comes." Copyright 1999 Horatio. I relate these stories because I enjoy writing and I enjoy the subject matter. If you have any comments you can email me at horatio_nimier@hotmail.com I'll even accept criticism if expressed in an adult, objective and polite manner. Hate mail will be flushed without reading. Grow up.