DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of adult fictional entertainment dealing with same-gender relationships. If you are of legal age and are not offended by said subject matter, read on. The author retains copyright of this material. The material cannot be posted or distributed without the author's permission.

Although anything can happen in the world of fiction, in the real world be good to yourself and others and practice safer sex.


© 2001 by W. Foster

Bleary-eyed and groggy, I peer around the dimly-lit room, wracking my brain in an effort to figure out where in the world I am. This certainly couldn't be my bedroom. If it were I'd be stretched out on a king-sized bed, with my cat sleeping somewhere nearby. This couldn't even be my apartment, not with all these sofas and chairs. Could I be in a furniture store? Wait a minute--there's something painfully familiar about this place. Oh, no. What am I doing in the office lounge? I glance at the wall. The large clock on it indicates four a.m. I COULDN'T have come here, I keep telling myself.

I remember staggering out of the office late last night, complaints galore overloading my brain cells. The day had been particularly horrendous. Combat fatigue has plagued us for the last two weeks, but yesterday seemed like the last straw. Every time I answered a call someone on the other end was screaming at me. There wasn't even time for a breath between phone calls, and Excedrin and Advil were being passed around the office like peppermint candy. By mid-afternoon I seriously considered having the post office forward my mail here. Lunch consisted of two bites of a vending-machine sandwich, followed by a quick dash for the Pepto Bismol. Mentally I tried blocking out the constant yelling and verbal abuse, wondering how soon I'd be asked to reach into my pockets to provide refunds. For a while I was successful, but as afternoon turned toward evening something inside me snapped. Customers who had received only cool, controlled responses from me were now being told where they could go---and not to dress too warmly once they got there. Not only that, I started questioning them about their parentage and mental capacities, and goodness knows what else. Supervisors came to me to complain about my performance, but after freezing five of them to the wall with my ice vision they got the message and left me alone.

I fumble around on the floor near my sofa for empty gin bottles--that might explain my presence here. Hmmmmm; no bottles. How did I get here? As I lie here searching for a solution to this mystery, my ears detect gentle snoring coming from across the room. So I'm not the only one here, eh? My eyes search the lounge again, coming to rest on a form lying on another sofa. As dim as the light is, I can make out a bald head, sienna brown skin and tight jeans encasing a full, round butt. I'm having a hard enough time figuring out why I'm here, but seeing Vernon Riley here is downright improbable. He wouldn't be caught dead in this office after a tour of duty, so I look around for a ball and chain. Finding none, I'm even more perplexed. This is too much for me this early in the morning, so I lay back and close my eyes......

Something is trying to awaken me from the depths of slumber. Whatever it is, it sure feels good. I shift a little to enhance this feeling, 'cause it's getting better and better. Strange, I don't recall it being so warm. Don't stop, I think to myself; just let me find out what this is. As I awaken, I not only feel my caramel-colored body melting in sensuous bliss, but a warm, steady wetness at my groin as well. My eyes are open, and so are my pants. I see Vernon down on his knees by the sofa, expertly sucking my dick.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" I silently scream at him. I make a token effort to push him away, but his oral manipulations are so superb that I find myself laying back down instead, arching my hips to get my prong further into his mouth.

Vernon certainly didn't strike me as a thrill-seeker. Inquisitive, yes. A mile-a-minute talker, yes. But not a thrill-seeker. He pulls his head off my throbbing dick and stands as I lay panting, wondering what he's going to do next. First his jeans drop, then his bikini briefs, and I feast my eyes on his gorgeous melons and his rampant state of arousal. If I were a wolf I would have howled. I stifle an urge to whistle as I stare hotly and hungrily at him. Maybe he's in heat, I wonder, or just trying to mess with my mind. He lays down beside me in spoon-fashion and, to my amazement and disbelief, grabs my turgid dick and guides it into his ass.

His butt is like fire against my groin, and I realize that all of my thick, twelve inches are buried deep inside of his welcoming hole. This has got to be madness. Of all the places to fuck, why did Vernon pick the lounge to give me "an offer I couldn't refuse?" Yet as he rotates his manpussy on my totem pole, I start caring less and less as I become caught up in the passion of the moment.

I reach under his shirt and play with his nipples. He grinds his ass harder against me in response. In the limited space of the sofa I manage to pump my iron, and soon I'm matching his rearward thrusts with forward penetrations. My hands are roaming all over his heated torso, and though it's a little awkward we even manage to kiss a few times. It's still early in the morning, yet neither of us has dared utter a word--it's a chore just to hold down our heavy breathing and pounding hearts. We're fucking faster now. My strokes are getting irregular. We're caught in the dilemma of not wanting to stop yet driven by the bizarre circumstances we're in, and all the while orgasm is getting closer by the moment.

Suddenly I feel Vernon's ass muscles contracting furiously around my granite dick. His shaft, untouched by me or him, fires a volley of semen onto the carpet as his body shakes in ecstasy. Momentarily my body convulses with the throes of a climax. I want to scream the house down as I drench his fuckhole, but all I can do is open my mouth wordlessly and squeeze him tightly.

I can't move. My body is totally limp. Any tension that was in it has long since vacated the premises. Vernon is in the same state of affairs. We must have been certifiably insane for doing this, but as I feel myself nestled snugly inside him a satisfied smile crosses my face. So what? I haven't felt this good in weeks--even my headache's gone! I look up and focus on the clock. Ten minutes to six, eh? Well, we've already gone this far. A few more minutes of sublime afterglow can't hurt.

Several minutes pass before I gather the strength to wake up Vernon, and after pulling out of him--regrettably--we look for something to wipe up the excess cum from our bodies and the carpet. Finding an old blanket lying in a corner, we use it to clean up, and with much effort we drag ourselves back to our respective sofas. Before he drops off to sleep again, Vernon gives me a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin; I return it with the promise of a future engagement in my eyes. As I fade back into slumber, I hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hall......

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Have a good one!