This is going to be a series of short stories that may or may not be continuous. It will highlight certain times and events in the life of
Jason. While as a whole this is a while this is a work of fiction parts of it may be loosely based on actual events. What parts? Wouldn't you like to know! Please be forewarned that these stories will contain sexual acts between adult males. If this bothers you, or is illegal where you are please read no further. All copyrights are held by the author.
If you like this drop me a line at email@example.com, be sure to include the title of the story in the subject line. Check out another story posted on Nifty, check out "Welcome to the Family" in the Beginnings section.
Part 1: The Beginning
I have to admit it; I have worked at a grocery store most of my going on thirty years. I was hired as a bagger the summer between my junior and senior years in high school when I was only seventeen. I then stayed on and worked part time once the school year started. Little did I know that first time I put on the blue polo shirt with the company logo embroidered on the chest that I would be there for thirteen years? During that time I worked up through the ranks from bagger to assistant store manager.
OK, you want to know about my sex life don't you? I guess you could say I came of age at work. When I started I was this shy lanky quiet kid who was basically afraid of his own shadow. I was an only child of older parents who never learned any real social skills from home life. I was always the kid who was picked-on in the playground, and picked last for any teams, not that I really cared for sports anyway. It was during junior high that I first had to undress in front of others in gym class and to take communal showers. I knew then that wanted to look at the other boys in class and see their developing bodies. I was a `late bloomer' and one of the last to start growing pubic hair, something else that allowed my cruel classmates to ridicule me. It wasn't until a year later when another poor soul was accused of being a fag that I found out what it was all about. I knew that even though I already didn't fit in I definitely did not want to add being queer added to the things the other boys would torment me about and had to reduce my stealing peeks to when I thought I wouldn't be caught. This continued all through high school. Luckily as time went by the tormenting stopped, or was passed on to someone else and I was allowed to fade into the shadows. At that time I never claimed even to myself that I was gay. There was not way I could be. I wasn't interested in girls but I also knew the gay stereotypes and didn't feel I fell into any of those. But still I knew I liked looking at other boys, and men. Especially those on the football and other sports teams with their solid will build bodies.
I had only been working at Grocery World for about a month when one day I was stocking shelves in the canned fruit aisle when Chris Chapman walked by, I didn't actually look up to see him, but out of my peripheral vision I knew who is was. Chris was a senior in high school, a year older then me, and a running back on his school's football team. All the working out and physical activity had given him a body to be envied by guys and adored by women and horny gay men. The time spent in the gym developing his muscles were well worth it, the man just oozed testosterone, which would always get mine flowing. I continued stocking shelves until I knew he had passed then turned my gaze towards him. I would never give up a chance to check him out. He stood about six-foot-one and weighed in at about two hundred thirty pounds of solid muscle. His blond hair was just beginning to show signs of curls again after being buzzed as part of a team ritual. All his team mates did it every year at the beginning of training. He said it was a tradition that meant they were all a team, and for good luck. He had steel blue eyes that always seemed to look right through you, especially when he smiled showing killer dimples that would be highlighted by his perpetual five-o-clock shadow look. But at the moment I was looking at him from behind. His broad muscular shoulders perfectly filled out his company issue blue polo. His muscular back tapered down to the thirty two inch waist that proudly announced by the label of his tight Levi's. His jeans were so tight they did little to hide his endowment in the front highlighted a perfect bubble-butt on the back. It was that nice ass I was staring at when he chose to turn around. He immediately noticed what I was looking at BUSTED! This was one of those moments when I experienced the proverbial life flashing by in my eyes. I was sure he was going to pound me. However to my surprise instead of getting mad or giving me the look of contempt I would have expected, he smiled. And not just any smile, it was a knowing, appreciative smile. As quickly as the turned to me he turned away and continued on his way. But I couldn't get the occurrence out of my mind or stop worrying about what he could still do to me.
I finished with my assigned task then took the empty boxes to the receiving room and placed them in the compactor. I had just turned eighteen and was now able to press the button to start the compactor.
I returned to the front-end and made sure the manager on duty knew I was back before returning to my regular job, bag boy. I saw that Geraldine had a big order. She an older lady had worked there forever and was my favorite cashier to work with. I smiled at the customer as I began putting her groceries in the familiar bags. I looked around for Chris; I wanted to check out his body language to see if there may be any hostilities. I had thus far done my best to make sure I get along with everybody and hoped this incident wouldn't change things. Besides, he couldn't prove anything. But low and behold Chris was nowhere to be seen.
But then again I was always looking for him. Making mental notes as to what he was wearing, how he was standing, who he was bagging for. And if he was close enough to eavesdrop on, what they were talking about. Now that I look back one could say I was stalking him. I would take these mental images with me to bed in the evenings for fantasy fuel.
But alas, he was gone. When I was finished bagging that order for Geraldine I checked the schedule to find out he was already off. Maybe that's why he didn't say anything in the aisle. He was in a hurry to clock out and get out of there.
The following day started out normal, Chris and I was standing by the time clock waiting for it to tick over to 4:00, the time we were both scheduled to clock in. He joked about Joey, a nerdy kid who worked with us. Joey was a story in himself and only had the job because his uncle was an assistant manager at one of our other stores in town. I really couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. I was too busy trying not to stare and not to pop a boner while smelling his masculine aroma. When Chris didn't mention anything about the event from the previous day I breathed a sigh of relief thinking that it may have just been my imagination, or wishful thinking. Until that is, a couple hours later when I was bagging at a register directly behind where Chris was bagging. Once again I couldn't resist taking a peek, and once again he caught me, twice actually. When he walked by me on his way to the office he stopped long enough to whisper in my ear: "I know what you was looking at!" then flashed me a smile. I'm sure my face was as red as the company logo on my smock.
Normally we would be scheduled in `shifts' for parking lot duty. That's where we would go out and push shopping carts back into the store. Usually only one bagger at a time would be out on the lot. There was a booth next to the registers where a manager would sit to keep an eye on things. And would have a duty schedule as to who was supposed to be working the lot, or other duties such as filling the bags or emptying trash. This night turned out to be unusually busy and quite a few carts were still out on the lot so the manager asked me to help Chris with the remainder. We had pushed in a couple lines of carts, mainly in silence but I noticed he seemed to be watching me. The next time we went out I headed to the lot and he motioned for me to follow him, saying we should check the back of the building.
There were a few carts there, but not many. Usually from kids in the neighborhood who had been playing with them or that only made it back that from people who lived in an apartment complex near the store. I usually just left them unless it was really slow and I had extra time to kill. The back of our building was not a straight line, but instead jutted put in several spots from the additions to the building over the years creating several alcoves. In addition there were a couple storage trailers and a large dumpster back there. It was next to the dumpster that we saw a cart and headed towards it. Chris kept walking behind the dumpster where he was hidden from view not only the street, but from the playground behind the store as well. He turned around and leaned against the wall of the building and pulled something out of his pocket. I gave him a questioning look and was about to ask what he was doing when I realized he had a lighter and a pack of cigarettes and was about to light up. I just watched as he placed one in his mouth, lit it and then took the initial puff from his cancer stick. He offered me one but I quickly refused and commented that we needed to get back to the store. He laughed and asked me what my hurry was, we had time. The dim light from the waning crescent moon was faint, but bright enough that I could make out the contours of his body as he silently stood before me. As one hand held his cigarette the other dropped to his crotch where he slowly rubbed up and down what I now know was the length of his cock. He looped his thumb through a belt loop and allowed his loose fingers to teasingly fondle his crotch. I was still young and na´ve at this time and not sure why he was doing this. We stood still in relative silence as he took a couple more puffs before flicking his unfinished cigarettes into the parking lot.
"So Jason," he finally said to me, "Have I been imagining things or have you been checking me out?"
Busted! I instantly because a nervous wreck. I'm sure that even in the dark corner he could see the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. "Well, I uh" I stuttered without really saying anything.
"Thought so," Chris said giving me a blank stare that didn't allow me to be able to read his thoughts. He must be one hell of a poker player.
"I'm sorry Chris, I didn't mean..."
"That's OK, I'm cool with it." He interrupted before I could finish my last comment. "I'm used to girls, and a few guys checking me out. When you work hard to build a nice body you get to like the attention."
"You do?" I was stunned; this was not what I would have expected. But then he proceeded to do something even less unexpected as he pulled the tail of his company issue polo shirt from his pants, and pulls it over his head revealing to me for the first time his hard developed teenage body. As I gasped at the sight he just smiled.
"Yeah, I do." He then rubbed his hands over his torso never taking his eyes off me. "I prefer it to be girls, but don't mind when a fag checks me out." This comment caused me to divert my stare from his pecs to his blue eyes which were still staring right at me. I started to defend my manhood but he quickly continued. "Not that I have a problem with it, I don't think anyone else has noticed, after all I think I'm the only one you've been checking out."
I was getting uncomfortable being out here behind the building with him. As much as I wanted to leave and head back to the store my curiosity kept me from leaving as I stared at his exposed torso. My penis started to harden as I watched him continue to run his hand across his body, stopping at his nipple when he began pinching.
"Come here," he said. I obeyed and took a couple steps closer. "Closer," he ordered. I took one more step forward and was within his reach. His hand momentarily left his chest as he grabbed my hand which had been limply dangling to my side. He gently took it back to his chest where he placed my open palm against his body. This, the first time I had ever touched another male in a sensual way. The warmth of his skin sent shivers up and down my spine. His skin was nothing like I expected. I don't know why I expected it to be, well, leathery. Instead it was silky smooth enough so that my hand just glided over his firm torso. It was my hand touching his skin, but he was controlling the movements as he had placed his hand over mine and slowly moved it across his smooth chest. The slowly lower until it reached the top of his jeans. He momentarily stopped before continuing lower then pressing my palm against his manhood. Even though it was soft I could definitely feel it against my palm through the cloth. "You like that?" he asked after s few seconds of silence. I had such a lump in my throat I was speechless and could only nod yes. "Take it out," he ordered as he removed his hand from mine and placed both his hands on my shoulders.
"But what if..?" I mumbled.
"Don't worry, no body comes back here this time of night. Go on, you know you want it."
I nervously grabbed the tongue of the zipper and slid it down. I reached in through the opening to find his underwear still separating me from his
manmeat. I tried to maneuver my hand to get to the elastic band but between my nervousness and my inexperience I performed badly. Chris took control of the situation and moved my hand away long enough for him to unbuckle his belt. He then unsnapped the jeans and slowly lowered them and the underwear at the same time. Slowly letting his large soft penis come into view. He stopped when he only had the pants just below his equipment, with the tip of his penis still hidden. In my years of school showers and changing at the local swimming pool I had seen my share of dicks. But few would measure up to the man of my fantasies. All at once all the imaginary images I had jacked off to over the previous few months were irrelevant as I now knew exactly what he had. I stared for what seemed like minutes at the at least eight inch piece of teenage meat. Making a mental imaging and locking it away for future reference. Never in my dreams would I have imagined that this would be happening and was quite sure it never would again.
"Now take it." His assertive command broke my musing.
I obeyed and nervously grabbed his flaccid penis, the first time I had ever touched another man's organ.
"What do you want to do with it now?"
"I, um" I honestly had no idea. I knew I was attracted to guys. I liked to look at them, and I definitely had my share of jack off sessions thinking about them, including the one whose penis I currently had in my grasp. But in all these fantasies I had never thought about what I could or would do with another guy when given the opportunity. It was then that instincts took over and I began to slowly stroke his penis. I could feel it slowly begin to get hard in my grasp as I heard a slight moan. I used the same technique on him that I had used on my own cock and in no time he was fully hard and fully expanded. I began to increase speed and try a twisting motion that I had also used on myself. As I stroked I allowed by gaze to wander up and down his exposed athletic torso. I was still in shock that this man would allow me to look at him, much less touch him. Yet here we were, him propped up against the back wall of Grocery World with his pants down and me jacking him off. I noticed his breathing increase and felt his penis getting harder and knew he was about to come. He opened his eyes and pushed me aside just as hot semen began erupting from his penis and hitting the pavement several feet away. I was amazed at the force as well as the amount of the sticky substance. Even after he had quit coming he was still stroking his own penis as he worked to catch his breath. After he was finished milking the final few drops he scanned the miscellaneous garbage that had accumulated in the corner and around the dumpster. He noticed a burlap bag, like oranges come shipped in and pointed it out. I grabbed the bag and handed it to his as requested which he used to clean his used organ. After he quickly put it away and re-dressed. He smiled at me as he patted me on the back and began walking away.
"Grab that cart why don't ya, we'd better be getting back in." I grabbed the one lonely cart behind the building. The one we say that led us to the dumpster in the first place. I had to practically run to catch up with Chris who was walking at a very fast pace. He slowed as we came around the corner of the building and allowed me to catch up. He grabbed a couple carts along the way, I had a feeling more for show, not wanting to walk in the store empty handed. He stopped just short of the door and allowed me to catch up. The smile had faded from his face and was replaced with a very firm almost scouring look as he turned to me and said; "Not bad faggot, but if you ever breath a word about this to anybody I'll kick your scrawny ass."
I was taken aback at the change in his attitude. I just nodded in acceptance of his terms as we both walked through the door. I slowed down and let him pull ahead hoping that no one else could see my nervousness. He on the other hand ignored the fact I was there as he joined a couple of his friends. I was pretty sure he wouldn't expose me unless I said anything and knew I never would. But this was an enlightening experience and I now knew two things for sure. Number one: I was definitely gay! While I liked looking at men I now knew I enjoyed touching them as well. I would figure out a way to meet others like me, I wanted to know more, and to experience more. And number two: Feeling Chris' muscular body was pure ecstasy! I knew I loved touching it, and remembered him saying how he knew others liked it as well. I was tired of being the skinny little kid and was going to start working out. I was going to be a man that gay men would want.
And so began my life.
--- Did you like hearing about Jason's first experience? Would you like to read more? Drop me a line and tell me what you think.
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