Date: Sat, 24 May 2008 23:04:29 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: "Checking Out the Bagger"

			  CHECKING OUT THE BAGGER
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

I walked into the Taggin' Wagon supermarket and was greeted by one of the
checkers who knew me a bit too well. "Hoo-wee, there he is!" Ty exclaimed
as only a long-time employee working in a smallish town can do. "Come
shopping for some long fat salami today?"

I smiled back at him. "That and some hot dogs. Plus some fresh hot buns to
stuff them in after I get them all heated up and sweating their juices."

Ty haw-hawed as you can well imagine a fiftyish man with a wife and
children and grandchildren with a low sense of humor in a small town will
do at a line like that.

"You got any specials today?" I asked.

Ty grinned. "Condoms are for sale down the street. You probably need to buy
them by the case, anyhow."

"Don't I wish!" I said a bit ruefully. "I bought a dozen last year and I
still have, let me see, uh, three, six, nine...twelve of them." I wish that
hadn't been the simple truth!

"Man, you got to get to the big city more often." Ty said and his head
turned as a shopper came up with her cart. A woman with children, the
crude-mouthed Ty immediately turned into the ultimate gentleman. "Good
afternoon, Mrs. Warner, did you find everything all right?"

Ty rang the bell to summon a sackboy to sack her groceries and take them to
her car for her, she was wielding a grocery cart filled to the brim. Most
of the local people from the farms around only came shopping once or twice
a month, so she had stocked up on everything.

A new kid (well, teenager, Taggin' Wagon only hired ages eighteen and up)
dressed in a new white shirt and a clean red apron and a white paper hat on
his head walked up to sack Mrs. Warner's groceries.

Talk about your fresh hot buns! This kid was fucking beautiful. I usually
don't go for the young and fresh-faced look, but would make an exception
for this kid if he said yes...or even hesitated. Light blond hair and clean
blue eyes, a cherubic round face that missed being effeminate but spoke of
a gentle upbringing and doting parents, this was matched with a body that
had been stretched with plenty of health exercise and then folded into
proper dress for church and diligent attendance in school. The skin was a
delicate pink-white, and glowed with the resolute shine of recently
blossomed youth, the glorious sheen of fresh maturity like a peach plucked
just ripe from the tree.

Ty saw me looking at the youngster and grinned knowingly, and I grinned,
said, "You know, I just remembered I wanted to pick up some fresh meat,
nice and tender."

Ty chuckled, and the kid looked puzzled, and I went on to get my
groceries. As I did, I looked back and saw Ty and the kid talking, Ty
gesturing to me, and I grunted, turned away.

It's hell being an out-and-proud gay man in a small town. Coming out had
been such a terrific thing when I was living in the city and only came for
short visits, but now my mother had taken a bad fall and was living in a
wheelchair and I'd had to come back and live here non-stop. I was keeping
up appearances best I could (witness my exchange with Ty, which was typical
of the degree of acceptance a gay man gets in a small town, that is, not a
heck of a lot), but it was getting my goat. Trouble is, I couldn't take off
for a weekend without having someone to leave Mom with, and when I did,
everyone went to talking, because they knew exactly where I'd gone and
why. Stares that can pierce you from a distance. Eyes that wonder, did he
take it up the ass last weekend? Did he suck a man's dick? Like they can
tell by looking at you.

While checking out, the kid watched me like a hawk. Ty had probably warned
him I'd try to rape him the first chance I got. I tried smiling at him
just-friends-like, but it didn't seem to work. Ah, well, I didn't even know
the kid's name.

When I took my groceries from the kid, I saw his name tag. "Matt," it
said. "Thanks, Matt." I said as professionally, customer-to-clerk as I
could.

"Thank you, sir." Matt said and I walked out without looking back. But I
felt the eyes on me.

Hell of a way for a proud gay man to live! If only I could get Mom to let
me sell the house and move us both to the city...fat chance of that! My
only hope was for her to die before much longer...and remembering that I
loved my Mother dearly, how's that for a conflict lined with guilt to sit
on your chest in the night?

Mom and I lived only four blocks from the Taggin' Wagon, so unlike most of
the other patrons, I went there three or four times a week, buying just for
a few meals at a time, so I could carry it all back myself. Not to mention
Mom had a weak stomach, not to mention she had cravings for this-and-that
on a regular basis. It was why I was on such familiar terms with Ty and the
other two checkers and the four to six stockboys/baggers they had working
there. Most of them were about like Ty, only less vocal, the wariness of a
straight man afraid a gay guy is going to grab his ass, tendered with the
fact you're a walking target for dumb jokes.

The next time I went into the store, Matt was working the produce bin,
stacking the zucchini squash in nice rows. Given zucchini's shape and
relative size, it was ripe for a joke. I walked over and said to him, "Hi,
Matt. I do like the way you handle those, just like a real pro."

Remember that I had expected Ty to indoctrinate him into the cult. What I
got instead of a quick comeback (or not so quick), was a shy smile and the
words, "Thank you, sir. I'm trying not to bruise them."

I felt ashamed of myself then. "I don't think you will. You have a nice,
soft touch with them."

"Yes, sir."

"I'd like about six of those. You want to pick them out for me so I won't
mess up your pile?"

"Do you want the larger ones or the smaller?"

"When it comes to squash, the smaller the better." I said. "The younger
ones are more tender." Now that little double-entendre, good as it was, was
completely unintentional.

"I'm sure we are." he responded.

I blinked and looked at him, and he smiled and gave me six small squash in
a plastic bag and I swallowed hard and walked away.

The third time I saw Matt, he was putting cans of tuna on a shelf. He
looked up and said, "Hello, Mr. Davis." to me.

"Call me Chip, like the rest of the guys here do." I said to him. "They
keeping you busy here?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Matt said. "We have to keep the shelves filled up. Can
you believe we go through five cases of tuna every week in this store?"

I grinned. "Well, a lot of guys in this town are fish-lovers." Yeah, I was
still playing the food-as-sex game. It was my sole weapon against the
hatred. As long as straight men are joking, they wouldn't say anything too
nasty-serious. "Just about all of them, in fact." I grinned.

"Not all of them." Matt said to the shelf and put some more cans up. Then
he looked at me. "In fact, some of us don't care for it at all."

"You don't say." was all I could come out with. The local witty gay guy was
at a loss for words here!

"Yeah." Matt raised his voice. "Hey, Sam! Tell Mr. Cooper I'm taking my
break now, okay?"

"Sure." came the voice from the other side of the shelf.

"Would you come this way, please, sir?" Matt said to me.

He led the way to the very back of the store. I followed like a lamb to the
slaughter. Was this really happening? He'd given every signal possible
here, but...was he really wanting what I thought he wanted? Three years
stuck in a small town with no other gay men around (that I knew of,
everyone who was gay moved the hell out of this place!) can leave your
gaydar completely rusted up and useless. Well, that and the danger of
guessing and being wrong! Whether born of righteous indignation or buried
temptation or both, Hell hath no fury like a straight guy who's been
propositioned by a gay man.

So I was ready to find myself confronted by several guys and have the snot
beat out of me, it hadn't happened yet but it could, I knew, oh, I knew!
Instead, we got to the back and he led the way into the store back, the
swinging doors closed and he turned and dived at me, not in anger, but in
passion!

I mean that literally, he grabbed at me and was kissing with all the grace
of a hippopotamus with chapped lips and his hands were clutching my arms so
tight they hurt! I got slobbered on, real slobber on my lips and just
outside of them, because I hadn't known to pucker up to begin with! I went
"Glmph!" and then the next contact between me and him was the hard-on in
his trousers, even through his briefs, his chinos and his apron, I felt it
loud and clear. Right up against my leg and he began to rub it at me, his
hips swiveling and hunching in a way Elvis Presley would have envied. I
think the kid could have gotten off like that if I would have let him.

Instead, I manage to pry those hands loose from my arms one at a time, no
mean feat, and then I slid his arms around me and I got my own on that
tender pair of his tasty hot buns (I know, I overdo the food/sex metaphors,
but it was the main bit of gay entertainment I had left since moving in
with Mom--pathetic, huh?) and I pulled him to me and I worked his mouth
around to where he was giving me a proper kiss.

Soon as I did that, his tongue slid into my mouth and now I was the one
nearly creaming my jeans. This kid had been dancing through my wet dreams
the past four nights and now I had his tongue in my mouth, I wanted to bite
that thing off and keep it under my pillow to suck on late at night when I
needed it most. I settled for the flavor of it as it was, he'd eaten a
candy bar not that long before from the taste of it, all super-sweet here
and there. The rest of him was just hot young man-flavor, all tender and
succulent and luscious and warm.

That kiss lasted quite a while, but when he finally turned loose, I went,
"Whoosh!" That was half a sound and half my expelled breath. "Damn, kid,
that was something."

I thought it was over, honest! At least until later.

But this kid was down on his knees on the concrete floor, and his hands
were at my pants! "Matt, what the hell?"

"I want to suck it." Matt muttered. "I want to suck it."

"Now?" I said, in the tone of voice you'd use if your boyfriend suddenly
wanted to have sex in the middle of the freeway at rush hour. You know,
that high-toned query like you'd been neutered the week before and your
voice just went back up on you? Now?

"Yes, now." Matt grunted as his fingers got hold of my zipper and ripped it
down, Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-ZUH! Almost like a machine gun, I looked around
guiltily to see if anyone heard it.

"Matt, listen, you get off work soon, don't you?" I asked him
desperately. I wasn't stopping him (you don't stop a flooding river, you
don't stop a falling boulder ten tons or more, and you don't stop a guy
like Matt who's after his first dick and determined that yours is going to
be it), but I was nervous about giving it to him. "You could come by my
house and we could do it there a lot easier, and slower."

"Now." Matt said, and I stopped yammering. Spent my energy keeping an eye
out for anyone who might walk in on us.

Meanwhile, Matt's fingers dug into my fly and fumbled across my briefs and
into the opening and onto the heat of my pud and drew it out like a
fisherman's wife reached in and pulls out the entrails on a fat trout.

And my cock flapped into the open air and it had about a second to breathe
before it got gulped down.

"Uh, huh, uhhh!" I gasped and forgot all about watching for anyone. This
was a back room, a store room, and unless someone needed another case of
paper towels in a hurry, we'd probably be unmolested. Hell, I was kidding
myself, I wasn't wanting to watch because I had a pair of soft angelic lips
around my pud and I wanted to spend all my energy in enjoying that! It had
been over a year, after all.

Just as exquisite a feeling as I had remembered, the hot, darkness of the
mouth, I could feel it wrapped about my dong, my senses were pulsing down
there the way when you close your eyes, you hear more clearly, my cock was
hypersensitive to the silken brushes of Matt's lips upon it as they moved
up and down. With them moved a path of wetness, so much that I wondered if
Matt was a virgin (I had certainly pegged him as one, and can you blame
me?), for he was displaying an adeptness that had me groaning. Or maybe it
had just been too long, who the fuck cared, I had it now and it was damned
good!

"Oh, Matt, oh, God!" I heaved. "This is insane. We could get caught, and if
we do, they could beat us both up, not just me."

"I don't care." Matt gasped, his hand holding my cock tight in case I tried
to take it away from him. "I want you now, right now."

"God, Matt, this is crazy!" I repeated, sort of. "I want you, too, hell,
yeah, but here and now?"

"Here and now." Matt affirmed.

"Shit!" I breathed. "Okay, then, but we have to hurry, okay? I mean, get to
sucking it fast as you can and I'll shoot as fast as I can, okay?" Okay?
Okay? My eyes kept saying.

"We have to hurry." Matt agreed.

Thank God!

"So why don't you fuck me now." Matt went on.

"Fuck you?" I said numbly. This was fucking nuts!

But Matt had dropped his pants to around his ankles and turned around,
rested his arms on a table that was there (I'm not sure what they used it
for), and I saw those pink buns of his and I stopped caring all over again.

Matt was indeed a virgin, but he was hot as he could be, and that
counterbalanced it a lot. He wanted me so bad, his asshole just sort of
opened up when my glans touched it, and while I met some resistance beyond
there, it wasn't anything that required me to rip him apart. I had to
pause, then his bowels would sort of gurgle (I could feel it but not hear
it, but gurgle describes it better than anything else) and then I could
push in further.

In less than five minutes, I had my boner buried in those tender little
love-melons of his right to the hilt. Matt was crooning like a hound dog,
sort of an "oooh, oooh, ooooh!" noise as he loved the feel of my man-tool
in his butt.

"We have to hurry." I said to him. "Let me know if it gets too much, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever, now, please, now." Matt hissed at me.

I began to move my hips to plug Matt's ass, slowly first, then faster as I
found him unprotesting and compliant. What a hot little butt this guy had,
I wanted to fuck him all day and all night...but a noise near the door as a
shopper pushed a squeaky cart past reminded me that we weren't in Kansas
anymore, Dorothy, so get them ruby slippers moving!

I'd done enough bars and back rooms to learn the trick, how to tell your
body to hurry up and have its climax now if it wants to have it. Your
climax is under your own control, despite how mulish and pig-headed it can
be if you let it, you can draw it up out of your body and make it do its
dance for you.

And Matt was moaning along with me, I built my orgasm up out of building
blocks and it reached the ceiling and I knocked them all down with a
clattering shove! And, on cue, my cock hit ejaculation point and I started
spurting into Matt's ass while little fairy-sparks of joy danced inside my
eyeballs. "Ah, hah, dah, damn, I'm coming, ah, hah, ahh, ahh!" I gasped
out.

"Oh, man, oh, man, oh, oh, oh, GUH-HUH-UH-HUHNNNN!" Matt immediately said
in his own turn. He didn't know how to hurry his climax, but as hot as this
guy was, he didn't have any trouble getting it to chime in right when I
needed it to.

Matt's ass clamped onto my cock with a grip like a vise. I used that to
squeeze the last dribbles of my jizz out, and then I began to tug to get
myself free from his bunghole. Sometimes, it happens that a person can
freeze up like that, leaving two lovers in a rather sorry state. But in his
case, it was just the spasms of a body in ecstasy and when he was done, the
killer-grip eased and I was able to pop out my glans like the cork in a
bottle.

"Ah, shit, man, ah!" Matt moaned as he laid his head on the tabletop.

"Damn, you were hot." I marveled as I got my cock back into my pants. If
someone walked in here, they may see Matt's buns, but my sticky dick
wouldn't testify that I'd done anything with it. "I can't wait to get you
someplace where we can take it slow and easy."

Matt smiled. "Yeah."

"Now you'd better get yourself decent before somebody comes in and wonders
why you are bare-butted on this table." I said. "And with me around, they
are going to guess right awful damned fast."

"I don't care." Matt sighed, but he straightened up and I helped him pull
up his pants and get them fastened again. When that was done, he smiled at
me, like I was his best friend.

Hell, I was smiling that way, myself. "I'm sure glad you came into town." I
said to him. "I hope you'll let me take you out and show you a good time
outside of plugging your ass, how about that."

"I don't know." I judged that Matt had the usual case of homo's remorse;
he'd done it, now he was wishing he didn't have to live with the
consequences of having done it.

"It's okay if you don't want to." I said. "But I hope you will. We don't
have to tell anyone if you don't want to. It can be our little secret."

"I want to tell my folks." Matt confided in me. "But not right away."

"I fully understand that." I said. "It took me years after my first time to
finally tell my family. You'll be interested to know that they won't kill
you. Probably." I had to add that last, some guys ended up thrown out of
their home. "But if they do behave badly about it, you can come stay with
me." Hell, even if they cheered the news, you could come stay with me, I
thought to myself.

"Matt? Matt?" came a voice. Ty, that nasty-mouthed old fool. "Where are
you, boy? You still on break, son? It's time to go home already!"

"I'm coming, Dad!" Matt yelled back. He kissed my stunned face and said,
"See you next time, okay?"

"Sure." I said and let him walk out, figured I'd better stay here a bit,
break the connection if anyone was watching.

Matt was Ty's son? Yeesh! If I was going to keep seeing Matt, I might have
to start shopping somewhere else!

Tokyo ought to be far enough!

				  THE END
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