by Greg Bowden

I have never subscribed to the notion that working late impresses people with your dedication. I think, rather, that it impresses them with your inability to get the job done in the time allotted. Nevertheless, that Wednesday I worked late. Someone had messed up the shareholder lists and I was supposed to have a statistical analysis to the legal people Thursday morning. Since Jim, my partner, was out of town on a business trip I just had a burger sent in and worked straight through. I finished just after eleven, heaved a sigh of relief, put on my coat and headed home.

I had forgotten how deserted lower Manhattan is at that time of night; I had to walk ten or twelve blocks before I found a cab. It was well after midnight by the time I got home.

The instant I stepped into the apartment I knew someone else was there. As the door closed behind me I froze, listening with all my being.

There: a sound like a drawer being opened, very quietly. The sound seemed to come from the bedroom, at the end of the hall. What should I do? Run? Call the police? Yell? Piss in my pants?

Something drew me to creep silently down the hall. What the hell was I doing? This was madness—possibly terminal madness. Still, I had to see who was in there, who was quietly going through the drawers in the bedroom. We do dumb things when we're scared out of our minds.

As I reached the half closed bedroom door I caught a faint click and realized that it was ever so slightly darker than it had been. Whoever was in there had just switched off a tiny flashlight. I held my breath. He knew I was there in the hall. Oh my God, I wanted to scream, what do I do now? I couldn't go back to the front door and I couldn't just stand there in the hallway, waiting for him to come and get me.

I let my breath out as silently as I could and did another dumb thing: I slowly pushed the door open wider. I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping; there he was, just a shadow against the dim light of the shaded window. By straining my eyes I could just make him out, hunched over the top dresser drawer; he must have been going through it when he heard me. Now he seemed to be frozen too, perhaps holding his breath like I was.

He made the first move.

"Put your hands behind your head and take three steps into the room," he growled in a horse voice. "And don't try to be a hero. Heroes do stupid things."

I did as he said, clasping my hands behind my head and advancing very slowly into the room. I sensed him turning from the bureau to face me although I doubted that he could see me any better than I could see him. He took care of that by switching on the bedside lamp and twisting the shade so the light was directly in my eyes.

"Stop. Right there. Now. Take your jacket off. Very slowly. Toss it on the bed. Over here. Slowly."

He picked up the jacket and went through the pockets. The flat little slap must have been my wallet although it sounded like it hit the dresser.

"Now the shirt. Toss it over, just like the jacket."

I don't know what came over me. "What about the tie? You want that too or do I take the shirt off under it?"

"Look, Pal, you want to get through this thing or not? Keep on with the lip and you won't. Now, the shirt."

I stripped off my tie and shirt, tossing them gently across the bed. The shirt was damp with sweat and although my hands were icy with fear I realized that the room was very warm. That practical little voice in the back of my head told me it was wasteful to leave the heat on when I went to work. Jesus, I was beginning to crack up. I was also beginning to get used to the light in my eyes and now I could see a little detail. He was not very tall and was stocky, like a football player. He seemed to be wearing a short, black mask which just covered his head and the upper part of his face. I could see that he had a bushy, dark mustache, like the kind Jim has, and he was dressed in a shapeless black sweater and tight black jeans.

"Shoes. Lift a leg and take off the shoe and sock. Let me hear 'em hit the floor, one by one. And hurry it up, will ya Pal?"

I almost lost my balance several times doing it but I got them off. Once I had dropped both shoes on the floor he made me kick them under the bed.

"You wearing a watch? Swell guy like you? Sure you are. Take it off and put it in your pants pocket. Then outta the pants and pass them over here, just like you been doing."

I danced around a bit but I managed to get my pants off. As I tossed them over the bed I wondered if he meant to take this all the way. Probably. Who's going to run naked down the street after a burglar?

I was right.

"Well, come on, Pal. You can't be so dumb you don't know what's next. Strip 'em off and toss 'em over."

I pulled my shorts off and threw them on the bed. Now what?

"Well, isn't that pretty," he said, looking at me. He pulled something out of his back pocket and tossed it across to me. "You did so well with your strip act that now you get to put something on." It was leather but at first I couldn't figure out what it was. He laughed as the realization hit me; it was a black hood, just like the one he wore except that there were no eye-holes.

"Put it on, Pal. Now."

He wasn't taking any chances. A naked and blindfolded man definitely wouldn't be in any condition to chase a burglar down the street!

"Now turn around," he growled. As I did so, I heard him move towards me. I thought he was heading for the door, leaving. Wrong again. Strong hands grasped the back of the hood and pulled it tighter against me. I heard a faint click and knew he had locked me into it.

"Now, let's see what we have here." I felt a light touch across my shoulders, almost a caress. The hands slipped down my back, finally coming to rest on the cheeks of my ass. For some insane reason I found his touch erotic and my cock begin to lengthen.

"Let's see the rest, Pal. Turn around."

As I turned his hand brushed lightly across my pubic hair and I felt my cock start to lift. I couldn't help myself. I was naked, blindfolded and helpless with a madman's hands on the base of my dick and what do I do? I start to get hard.

"Well, I see he likes it. And what a tool to like it with. Okay Pal, let's get on with it." He shoved me and I fell backwards onto the bed. As I lay there I got a pretty good idea of what was going to happen and I began to shiver a little, this time not in fear! I heard sounds: shoes falling to the floor, sweater pulled off. When I heard the zipper my dick flexed and I reached down to feel it's hardness lying against my belly.

My hand was slapped away. "Over your head, Pal, put 'em over your head. I heard his pants hit the floor and felt the bed sag under his weight. "You want to play with a dick? I'll give you a dick to play with, one you won't forget," he growled. My breath was taken away as he sat heavily on my chest, pinning my arms under his knees. I felt a light touch across my cheek and down, over my lips.

My God, I thought, it's his cock. He's going to shove that thing into my mouth and make me suck him off.

He slapped me firmly on the cheek with it. "Open wide, Pal. You're going to take this big, thick cock down your throat and give me a blow job to remember." His hand went to my neck. "And if you don't suck good I'll cut off your air." He pressed down, making his point, making me gasp for breath. "Now do it. Suck!"

I felt the cock-head pressing on my lips, forcing itself into my mouth. I took a breath and opened my mouth wide, suddenly wanting to take that cock-head down my throat.

"That's it, Pal. Take it. But slowly, slowly. We're in no hurry here, are we?" He chuckled and began to push his cock into my mouth, pausing, finally, when the head was just pressing against the back of my throat. It was a big cock and so thick it completely filled my mouth. I was afraid I was going to gag as he pressed the head harder and harder against the back of my throat; he must have sensed this because he shifted himself on my chest, allowing me to take a deep breath. As I did, that huge cock slipped down my throat until I felt his balls against my chin and my nose was buried in his pubic hair. He held me that way, pinned down with that huge cock forced all the way down my throat, until I thought I would pass out for lack of air.

He finally eased back, pulling his cock out until just the head remained inside my lips. "You're good, Pal," he chuckled. "You sure know how to take a cock down that slick throat of yours. Now let's see what you can do with your tongue." He pushed his cock a little further into my mouth.

I ran my tongue along the shaft and up, over the head, prizing at a big piss slit. I found that he wasn't cut and that I could get my tongue under the skin, between it and the underside of the head. He seemed to like that and began to stroke his cock slowly in and out of my mouth, letting the pressure of my lips roll the foreskin over the head and then pull it back until it was all exposed to my roving tongue. It seemed to me that his breathing had become heavier.

"Let's try something a little different, shall we, Pal?" He shifted, turning himself around on me. Of course I couldn't see anything and my arms were pinned to the bed by his legs but I knew immediately what he had in mind when his masculine, musky scent suddenly filled my nose. My God, he's going to sit on my face, I thought. I rolled my head back and forth, moaning, but he grabbed me and held my head in an iron grip until my lips were forced between his ass cheeks, pressed up against the hole.

"Steady, Pal. You're doing fine. So far. Now let's have a little service here. Come on, get that tongue working against that hole. I want you to slick up my ass until you can slide your tongue up there as easily as you slide it between your lips. That's it, force your spit up there. Push that tongue in just as far as you can." He took hold of my nipples with his strong fingers and began to squeeze and twist them. "Let's see if this gives you a bit more incentive," he growled.

My nipples have always been wired directly to my dick and I felt it grow even harder as he fingered them. Another moan escaped my throat and I knew he had me. As long as he worked on my tits I would do what ever he wanted of me. He knew it too. "Like that, do you Pal?"

As I began to poke at his hole with my tongue he squirmed, lifting himself just a little to allow me more room to work my tongue over his hot asshole. He groaned as I began to poke at it, trying to open it, trying to force my tongue deep into him. I worked up some saliva and pushed it into him making his hole slick and wet, letting my tongue slide deeper and deeper into it. He rewarded me with a twist on both of my nipples that made my dick flex up from my belly. I moaned and pushed my tongue deeper into his asshole.

After a bit he shifted position again, twisting his body around so that his cock was brushing my lips. "Suck it in, Pal, all the way down your throat. Make it as slick as you made my ass hole." I opened my mouth and he slowly pushed his cock in, not stopping until it was buried in my throat and his wiry hair was pressed up against my mustache. He waited a moment and then pulled back until the head was just comfortably in my mouth; then he pushed again, until his cock was back down my throat.

"Can't do too much of that, Pal. He pulled his cock out of my mouth. "Better get to the real stuff. Turn it over, Pal. On your belly. Now!"

His knees released my arms and his strong hands forced me to roll over under him. He slid down my body until he was straddling my buttocks and then he forced my legs apart. I could feel his dick pressing against my ass, seeking entrance.

"Take a deep breath, Pal, and let's get on with it," he growled, pushing harder against me. Somehow I couldn't seem to make myself open up enough to take that huge cock.

"Okay, Pal. Remember, you asked for it." He slapped my ass. Hard. I gasped from the sting of his hand and his cock slipped into me. He pushed it home with one long thrust and fell across my back, hands under me searching for my tits; when he found them he began to roll the nipples between his fingers. He stroked his dick in my ass a couple of times, pushing it deeper into me.

"Now that's a dick, Pal. That's a big dick you got up your ass and you're going to get fucked so's you know you been fucked."

He began with long strokes, almost pulling the head of his dick out of my ass and then quickly shoving the entire length back into me until I could feel it poking around somewhere up in my belly. He let go of my nipples and raised himself up, legs straddling my buttocks, hands on my back, and thrust that big dick harder and harder into me. Suddenly he yanked his dick all the way out and grabbed my shoulders.

"Over, Pal. I want it from the front."

He forced me over, pushed my legs up against my chest and drove that huge dick back into my ass, all in one motion. He grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the bed again. His strokes began to shorten but the shorter they got the harder he slammed into my ass and the more I knew I was about to blow my balls. Both of us were gasping for breath now, ready for the big moment. I knew it was time when he suddenly stopped, pulled back, slammed into me and held his breath. I could hear a sound way in the back of his throat, working its way up until it came out as a deep growl. I felt his dick swell in me and as the heat of his come hit my insides I fell over the edge and started shooting mine all over the both of us.

We lay for a while, his body covering mine, his breath hot on my cheek. When his dick finally began to soften he slipped out of me and got up from the bed without a word. I heard the sounds of clothing, then the squeak of a door.

"Don't ever forget, Pal," he whispered.

I heard the front door close.

I lay on there for a few moments, pulling myself together. When I finally tried pulling at the hood it came off quite easily. There was a little lock on the clasp but it was locked open. I looked around the room. There were my coat and pants, hanging neatly on a hanger. My tie was draped over a door knob. Wallet, watch and keys in their accustomed place on the night stand. What the hell?

Then I heard a key in the front door followed by a cheery "Hello, hello" from my lover.

"You're supposed to be in Cleveland aren't you?" I called.

"Finished the job early. Thought up a surprise for you," he said, coming into the bedroom, pulling off a shapeless black sweater. "I knew you'd enjoy it." His voice lowered to a growl. "After all, Pal, I know what you like."


Greg Bowden

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