O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Stephen's Cock Control

by Glaucon55

I was recruited right out of law school to this firm in San Diego. After spending three cold years on the East Coast, I was determined to ship my Ivy League ass out to a place where the sun had more than a 50-50 chance of being seen for what seemed like most of the year. And San Diego was a hardon paradise. Chicks and dicks everywhere, and mostly exposed in one way or the other for a hard up piece of meat like me to ogle and stalk. When I started at my current firm, I made the job offer decision based on how many long legged cunts and full crotches I had counted at each of my interview sessions. I wasn’t disappointed. Once in Southern California, what I did not see in the office, I found at the health club used by our firm and others in the building, at the beach, and or in most of the local bars. There was cock and cunt everywhere, dripping and drooling to be laid, and I was feasting like a starving man from the day I arrived on the pulchritude that seemed ubiquitous.

My first lay was the secretary assigned to me by the firm. It seemed like my snug fitting suits and polished cap toe oxfords made her cunt wet, and by the end of the first week I had nailed her in my office once, and then to the mattress on my bed for most of the first weekend. Jeez did she have a fine pussy, and she could milk a cock like a back street whore. Once I got her on her hands and knees and tongue lashed her cunt lips a bit—buzzing her stiff little button---she was ready to suck and fuck with wild abandon. Seemed like my cock and her clit hit it off, cause I each time I thrust in and out, the curve of my cock rubbing her fuck button made her scream all night long, and each time she came she milked my cock like a vice. Plus, she knew how to take orders, from untying my shoe laces with her teeth, and sniffing my balls before she had to kiss my dick, to sitting on my lap while she rode the pony. If my cock didn’t bring her off, then riding my finge! rs while I sucked and pinched her titties was a good way to pass the time while I rested up and regained my stamina after each cum.

But she wasn’t the only option I had that first weekend. On Friday in the Club lockerroom, the high school teen punk who worked behind towel counter, looked at me shyly from head to foot with a guilty, goofy sweet smile. I gave him a wry one back and ignored him; letting him watch my hairy ass and big dick as I walked back and forth from the showers. But then on the way out, I gave him my card and a home phone number, and told him to give me a call. He looked puzzled as I left, but he didn’t disappoint. He called Friday night when I was out priming Claire my secretary for our bang session. Saturday I called him back and told him that I thought he might drop by on Sunday night, that I had a ‘stiff muscle’ from Friday and thought he could work it out….to drop by around 7 p.m. Claire didn’t suck cock worth a damn, and I was ready to have my cock knob basted by a sloppy mouth and an active tongue while I relaxed. Plus this kid seemed t! o have the kind of ass and body that would look good on his hands and knees at my feet. He was a jock punk slave in the making if I ever saw one and I wanted to see how my long, thick toes would look wriggling in his mouth.

The kid worked part time at the Club during the off-season, and got the job through his baseball coach. When he arrived at my apartment, he had his ball cap on backwards, a t-shirt, shorts and flip flops—So. Cal. dress requirements. I could see his erect tits poking through the cotton material of the t-shirt, and I could not help staring at his big boy hands and thick fingers. As he walked past me into the apartment, I focused on his strong ankles, narrow, pale heels, and the wide feet with thick, curved toes. His dark brown hair was cut short, and his striking blue eyes set off his handsome teenage face. Turned up nose, little ears that looked so suckable, and tufts of hair under his arms, dusting his legs and toes, and at his navel where his short t-shirt exposed his midriff. As he ambled into my apartment, he looked so earnest and a touch desperate...like his balls were bloated with scum that needed to be relieved. His expression was kinda lost and shy…! and so I told him to relax, that I really appreciated him offering to come by and help me out since this was my first weekend in San Diego since I had passed the bar and taken the new job. He acted consciously nonchalant, and shrugged his shoulders, but I kept catching his glances, at my own strong legs, my broad pale feet, my own big hands. At 6’1” I dwarfed him by almost five inches, his high school shortstop/tailback body small but perfect.

When I offered him a beer and let the conversation stray to sex, his attention peaked and it didn’t seem too long before his short, thick prick was punching at the front of his shorts. I asked him if he’d ever given a massage, that my back and legs were still hurting from the day before. He shrugged again, and said he’d helped out with the trainer at school once or twice, and that he’d try to help if he could. What a good boy I thought as I rolled onto my stomach on the couch as he came over to give it a try. I closed my eyes as his strong young hands kneaded my back muscles, and when he began to massage my calves and thighs, I pictured him over my lap, shorts at his feet getting a nice spanking before he shot a load out of pure excitement. It didn’t take me too long to roll over and let him work the tops of my legs, or for him to become painfully conscious of my thick, curved eight inches punching out my own shorts. Then I offered to retu! rn the favor. I made his stand before me, his back to me with his hands behind his head as I began a thorough massage of his back and legs. When I told him to lie back on the couch so I could show him how good a foot massage felt, he just closed his eyes and complied. Those nice big boy feet, size 10.5 on that hunky little body, were under my spell in a minute. The little fucker didn’t miss a beat when I lifted one foot and began to suck his big toe, gently scratching my nail up and down his sole to make him squirm and groan….”aaaaaaaaahhhhhh….oh man….that feels weird….oooooohhh jeez mister…oooohhhhhhh shit…..aaaaggggghhhhhh….” My hand slipped slowly up his thigh as I sucked his toes, and within a few minutes his toes were trapped in my mouth and his hard teen pecker was trapped in my fist.

Before he left that night, I had persuaded him to crawl to me on his hands and knees, blindfolded with his hands behind his back, and to sniff and lick my toes, sniff and lick my balls, tongue my hairy assport, and then chow down on my turgid, curved prong. Mother fucker was it sweet when he slurped on my prick tip, licking the fat lollipop head like it was a piece of candy. Claire notwithstanding, I dumped two good sized loads down the kids throat with his hands now tied behind him and a small little vibrator purring up his tight asshole for the first time in his young life. That began a nice relationship where I could count on Ted to service me when times were tight, and I felt the need for a punk to worship my body. God was that kid oral, licking every inch of my body as much as I wanted, and without ever be allowed to touch his cock unless I gave him permission.

 

Stephen Hatton

But in the weeks to come, I discovered a real prize in the office that I had not expected. One of the paralegals that worked for the firm was from the Midwest. His name was Stephen Hatton, and he was actually a few years older than me. But there was something interesting about his five o’clock shadow, and his smiling, friendly manner that drew me to him. He was assigned to work on the cases that were directed to me. He spoke quickly and in an animated manner, but with an awe shucks style that made him more and more alluring as I got to know him. I figured he was sweet, dumb and straight; your typical Midwestern male. I learned that he grown up in a straight-laced Protestant family, and had been pretty restrained all his life. He did what other guys had done in his town, and when he went to college and later moved to So. Cal. he just kept on doing the same, keeping firmly on the straight and narrow.

I saw him go out with one of the secretaries in the office, and heard from Claire that he was considered a nice guy and not a bad fuck. He had seven strong and capable inches, was trim and fit, size ten feet and pale blue eyes with his sandy hair and dark roots and shadow. His hairline was receding slightly, but there was something compelling about his cornfed style that drew me closer and closer. Here was America at its repressed best, the kind of guy who didn’t know he had urges and needs that could be liberated and would have been shocked if anyone suggested something that didn’t look like a missionary position with a pert redhead with big tits. I had recalled in college another guy just like Stephen. He had been quiet and unassuming with a great build and puppy dog eyes. But I found that once you got him in the mood---and that usually just took a few drinks, all that talk of girls gave way to whatever his cock desperately needed. He dated chicks, and i! n fact I found out after I was in law school that he had gotten married. But I also knew from first hand---and I do mean hand---experience, that if you gave him a couple of drinks and started to mess around, you could make that guy every which way from Sunday. Plus, he could cum all night…an idea that made my cock go rigid as I watched Stephen in the office and wondered about his potential. I have learned across time that still waters run deep, and I was determined to find out how deep Stephen’s ran in more ways than one.

The office would occasionally go out on Friday’s during the summer after work, and if I wasn’t trapped in preparing some God awful brief, or pouring over materials while assisting one of the partners for a trial, I’d go along. After all, the smell of cunt and cum were always at their highest in bars on Friday nights. I followed Stephen and a gang of the clerks and secretaries to a place two blocks from our firm. It was loud and packed, with office types from the business district. People were drinking to get laid, and I was amazed at how much Stephen could drink…I also noticed the tell-tale signs of drinking to get plastered. He wasn’t putting the make on any of the chicks who had accompanied us from the office. The girls were in their usual gaggle, eyeing the three piece suits and making comparisons for their note books. Stephen, just laughed at their jokes, and drank, looking around but more to people watch than focus. He was dressed i! n his usual slacks, a v-necked sweater with a white t-shirt underneath. At about 7:00 p.m., the girls decided to head out to dinner and the guys who remained went with them. I was drinking a few tables away with a couple of the other young lawyers who were scheming to get into some pussy that night. It seemed like the girls had asked Stephen if he wanted to go. But he smiled lazily at them, and sent them on their way. Since he stayed so did I, while my buds went out on a search and seizure mission for wet panties. Stephen didn’t seem to notice me since I was sitting behind him, and soon I was rewarded for my patience.

At about 7:30, while the dinner crowd was leaving the bar, and the hard core drinkers had not tanked enough to say yes to any proposition they got, an already thoroughly plastered Stephen made his way to the head in the back of the bar. This place was a dive, and the johns were located down a short hallway that led to an outside drinking area. I got up, and for the hell of it, followed Stephen at a discreet distance. He crashed into the john, and waiting for about five seconds, I then followed him in. There were two guys pissing at the trough on the right as you entered, resting back on their heels and looking down with indifferent pride at their pale schlongs as they arched back and pissed like racehorses. They soon zipped up and walked out. At first, the long row of toilet stalls to my left threw me off, as I was expecting a smaller space with just a trough urinal and a couple of stalls. But as the others left, I saw Stephen bump his way into the disabled stall near! the end of the row. I went down, and for the hell of it, went into the stall next to his quietly, his noisy entrance masking my own. Sure enough, there was a fine sized glory hole in the partition, and I sat down and leaned over to get a full view. I also wondered why Stephen had chosen this stall….But if he was there for a blow job, he paid no attention to me or the hole and I watched as he fumbled with his zipper and lowered his slacks to his thighs to reveal a tight fitting pair of white Joe Boxer briefs. They fit nicely on his lean torso, and accentuated his basket. He yanked them down to his thighs too, and leaning over the toilet, he put out one hand to steady himself against the wall ahead of him, and used the other to grasp his fine pale cock and start pissing.

I was seriously mulling over the idea of reaching through the hole and just grasping his prick after he finished pissing but I didn’t get the chance. In spite of being tanked and his piss line wavering all over the bowl, he managed to shoot a nice healthy stream and keep most of it in the toilet and off the floor. He was just finishing and I was getting ready to make my move, when without warning the door to his stall was pushed open. He jerked his head around as if to say it’s taken, but he just looked at the guy who had pushed open the door, and kept pissing with a sappy, drunk out of it expression on his face. The guy looked like he was gonna step out, putting up one hand up as if to say “sorry”, but then he stopped and checked out Stephen more closely. He leaned out of the stall and looked down the row, and not hearing or seeing anyone else in the john, he pushed into the stall and quickly shut the door and locked it.

Fuck, why don’t thinks like that happen to me. How often do you find an empty john and a drunk punk set up for a quick kill? In a deft and quick move, he walked right up behind Stephen. He whispered into Stephen’s ear in a deep voice just loud enough for me to hear…”Hey dude, need some help, huh, looks like you’re a bit tanked buddy?” In the same motion, the big blond dressed in a short sleeve dress shirt, tie, wool slacks and loafers…he must of been 6’2”…reached down and grasped Stephen’s cock. Jesus…I couldn’t believe it. What balls…he just slipped his fist around Stephen’s fleshy midwestern wang. He gripped Stephen’s cock, and the drunk paralegal just leaned forward and closed his eyes, resting his head on his arm and groaning softly, his knees buckling slightly. Fuck…the big blond started to slowly thumb the knob of Stephen’s prick, lazily working the sensit! ive tip. As if on queue, Stephen’s dick engorged and erected quickly, and the blond began to slide his fist up and down the horny cock. Within a moment, his seven inches were thrusting brazenly into the milking fist. The big blond continued to whisper into Stephen’s ear, and he reached into a pocket and pulled out a little vial. Reaching down near his masturbating hand, he unscrewed the cap as he was jerking Stephen’s rampant organ. He lifted the vial up, and slipped it under the paralegal’s nose. Stephen winced and tried to move his head, but the blond’s roiling fist and his strong arm kept him in place and made him snort the popper.

Then the blond’s voice got soft and nasty and his tongue slipped out a bit and tickled the soft inner lining of the man’s ear, making Stephen twist his head and flinch. I couldn’t quite make it out what he said, but whatever he was saying old Stephen couldn’t resist. His cock was flying back and forth in the loose fist of the blond guy, and after putting his vial of popper away, the guy’s other hand slipped up under Stephen’s t-shirt and was sliding up and down his chest, grazing his tits and stroking him. In seconds a long stream of gism shot from the wide piss lips and inundated the toilet seat and wall…two, three, four, five shots, and then the fist curled around the aching knob and milked it clean. Stephen hunched over, the tickling sensation on his sensitive cock tip making him try to force away the roiling fist…but the big blond made sure he drained him completely, before his stopped using his other arm to keep Stephe! n in place. I noticed how easily Stephen could be managed, and how his cock seemed to rule his brain as the guy keep torturing the prick tip just for his own pleasure.

Stephen stayed bent over, and the blond just shook off his hand, letting the cum dregs fall to the tile floor. He grabbed some toilet paper and wiped off his hand, threw it in the toilet, and spoke to Stephen one last time. “Hey dude, that was cool…hope that helped ya out….” And looking out of the stall again quickly, he slipped out as he had slipped in. Now that was way fucking cool, watching a guy walk in on a total stranger, jerk him off, and walk out without a God Damn interruption. But I had learned something about Stephen that was better than any five-minute jack off session. His cock was up for grabs, and once he drank a bit, he didn’t seem to care what happened to him…or to it. He let a total fucking stranger walk into his stall and use him, and didn’t make a peep. Plus, his cock looked like a champ, ready to be worked at a moment’s notice, and shooting healthy wads of spunk with just a bit of effort. I knew tha! t I was gonna get more of this, and on my terms. I let Stephen stumble out of the stall, wash his hands, and head out. I followed, biding my time. Tonight was just an introduction, there would be more, much more to follow.

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