Just three minutes to go.
Henry’s computer time confirmed the hopeful news the office clock had already told him. He put his coffee cup to his lips—his “blowjob lips”, as Patrick often joked—and sank the final grainy dregs. He dared to stare at his computer once more, seeing little more than a vague collection of numbers and graphs that began to blur as they always did at this time in the afternoon. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, letting his half-closed eyes drift over the office partition. The words “suck it up” had been etched into the corner of his cubicle; his little reminder that the bores of an analyst were usually worth the pay. Usually.
“Gearing up for the weekend, Clark?”
Henry almost fell off his seat as Mr Gordon’s thunderous voice hit him from behind. He turned in his chair to glance up at the large man above him—a pair of powerful, pale blue eyes making him feel even smaller in his seat. The pepper-salt business manager wore one eyebrow up, studying the young analyst with a hint of humour in his moustache.
“No, Mr Gordon. Just taking a moment to consider the forecast analytics.” Henry forced a slight smile, trying not to let his tiredness show too much.
The boss studied him for a moment longer. “Of course,” he finally said, placing one of his huge hands on Henry’s shoulder. “Now, mister Henry Clark, before you disappear, I was hoping you could do me a favour this weekend.”
“Uhh, yes Mr Gordon? What is it?”
The bigger man edged his way further into the cubicle, his broad shoulders taking up half the wall space.
“I was hoping you could come in tomorrow to finish off the Smart-Tec paperwork from Wednesday’s consultation. We’re up to our necks in it with Susan having left, and I could really use a hand getting things nailed down before Monday.”
A pained groan resounded in Henry’s head, exploring different excuses before Mr Gordon had even finished his sentence.
“Could I count on you, Henry?”
Henry put on his best ‘hands tied’ face. “Uhh, actually this weekend isn’t great for me, Mr Gordon. I already committed to plans for Saturday, and I don’t think I’d be able to get out of it at short notice… Sorry.”
Mr Gordon’s eyes gave a twitch of disappointment, continuing to study Henry from above as he usually did. Henry sat below him with a shrug on his face, hoping his boss couldn’t read minds. His ‘plans for Saturday’ consisted of nursing a hangover with a big bag of salted chips. Patrick, his gay friend, had organised drinks for later on tonight, and no doubt he’d have many a tequila shoved down his throat. Saturday overtime would be Hell.
Mr Gordon gave an understanding tip of his head. “Alright, Clark. Enjoy your weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.” He clapped Henry on the shoulder with another bear paw, complementing his leave with a patriarchal wink.
Henry sighed and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair. He opened his laptop case, beginning the process of packing up his things while thinking in relief about how he had just narrowly escaped a painful few hours with The Walrus—a nickname aptly given for both Mr Gordon’s classy moustache and his fondness for The Beatles.
It wasn’t that Henry disliked Mr Gordon; in truth he was about as good as any boss could be. But still, he was his boss, and Henry wouldn’t maintain workplace professionalism for a second longer than he had to.
———————————————————
Patrick pulled opened the door with his usual flair, his cheeks already as rosy as his favourite ‘salmon’ dress shirt.
“Well helloooo,” he sang, dancing into a hug with a bottle of schnapps in hand.
“You’re looking pretty jolly already,” Henry commented with a grin. Patrick bowed, continuing his little jig before taking up Henry’s wrist and pulling him inside.
“Jollier than you, mi amigo,” he winked. “Now stop diddling about and let’s get some tequila in you.”
By the time the clock struck midnight, Patrick’s group of five were thoroughly drunk and squished into the back of a taxi, headed for town. Henry and Patrick were sandwiched between Mike and Jerry, who were both lean enough to only take up half a seat each, with Stanley in the front next to the driver. Henry himself wasn’t gay; but as usual, a drunk Patrick had talked him into coming to town—this time to his favourite gay bar: Little Kitten.
The line for entry was long as it always was on a Friday night, and they had to wait a good twenty minutes queuing before the bouncer finally let them inside. Down the stairs to a basement dancefloor, the place was packed. Strobe lights and stripper poles were both being put to maximum usage, and Henry couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiastic dancing display for an ear-thumping Livin’ La Vida Loca. It wasn’t Henry’s first time here, but it was never his first pick of bar. The men were always aggressively sexual, and it had become a common occurrence for his “pinchable buttocks” to be grabbed or slapped when he moved through the crowd. Still, there was usually an abundance of single women at the Kitten; and though Henry was rarely successful in bringing one home, he still enjoyed the pursuit and lack of straight, male competition.
The night went quickly. Much tequilas and schnapps; much dancing; much banter and laughing. Patrick was high in spirits as he was high on them; and with his generosity of shots, Henry had reached a plateau where he would find himself wandering the dance floor in a euphoric stupor, beginning even to enjoy the male attention he was receiving, getting checked out in regular, not-so-subtle glances. Though he wasn’t particularly attracted to guys, he had found it to be a hot thrill when he was grabbed by a stranger. Since he was a teenager he’d always appreciated the look of a well-formed dick, and he’d even let a couple of guys suck him off in the past. Still, he was reluctant to admit that to anyone, even himself, that he had any gay tendencies. He’d heard the term ‘bi-curious’ thrown around by Patrick; and from the de***********ion, he supposed it suited him. Not gay—just an amateur dick connoisseur. He usually rolled his eyes and resisted half-heartedly when Patrick declared he’d be dragging him back to the gay bar for their Friday night shenanigans; and though the first time seemed a bit awkward and scary, he’d come to like Little Kitten. He’d even wondered if he could risk a night of experimentation without his cover being blown. Maybe if someone made a move on him, he might…
“Hey there, pumpkin,” came a familiar voice in his ear. “Where have you been hiding?”
Patrick draped an arm around his shoulder, his breath pleasantly peach-flavoured from all the schnapps he’d been inhaling.
“You know me,” Henry shouted back over the music. “Been tied to the dancefloor with a bungee cord.”
“You sly little mongoose you. Whose skirt have you been chasing?”
“No one!” Henry replied honestly. “The music is my mistress tonight.”
Patrick threw his head back for a brief hoot of laughter that was lost in the music. “Well I…” came Patrick’s breath again in Henry’s ear, waving his cup in his face. “…am going to introduce you to a lovely specimen I spotted from across the bar.”
Henry turned to eye him curiously.
“You might even know her,” his friend continued, and Henry’s curiosity turned into a narrow-eyed confusion. Patrick’s took Henry’s chin in his hand, stroking his “virgin-soft cheeks”, as Patrick loved to say. “Her name is Tequila, my darling. She’s waiting at the bar for us.”
Henry rolled his eyes with a laugh, shoving Patrick playfully in the arm.
“Alright, but I’m gonna go for a pee first.”
“Nuh uh,” said Patrick, pulling him by the arm. “Peeing can wait. Tequila now, pee later. Come.”
———————————————————
Tequila spilt over his bottom lip, and he wiped it with his forearm.
“Gross,” Henry protested, stuffing lime flesh between his teeth. He let his tongue wipe the residue from his lips as he watched Patrick shiver.
Henry turned and placed his back against the bar, gazing loosely over the crowd. A tall model-faced blond walked past, giving Henry a look that was unmistakably licentious, and Henry’s mind snapped to a fantasy of feeling his naked abs, submitting to having the guy’s big dick sliding into his mouth…
Henry shook his head. ‘What is wrong with me?’ he thought. His face flushed hot as the model guy disappeared into the crowd, and he turned back to the bar where Patrick already had another two shot glasses ready to go.
Henry pushed through the crowd towards the Men’s sign, past a couple of leather-clad gentlemen who took particular notice in the tightness of his jeans. His “perky lil’ mumma’s boy booty”, Patrick had told him, would be his greatest asset in the gay club—and apparently his key to free drinks. Henry returned them a shy smile and leaned against the big black bathroom door, which gave way easier than expected and rendered him stumbling into the room. Surprisingly, the room was empty except for one man busying himself at the urinal. The bathroom was still neat and remarkably clean for a Friday night, and Henry swayed loosely down to the very last stall of the toilet cubicles.
Without closing the door behind him, he whipped it out and drained himself, propping himself with one hand against the far wall. As he finished, he heard the stall next door close with a click of the lock. Not thinking much of it, he flushed and put himself away with a zip of his jeans. As he turned to leave, he heard a knock from the stall next door. Three double knocks, like horse hooves on the wall. Smiling in a surprised amusement, Henry shrugged and repeated the knock back. As he studied the wall, he noticed—around waist height—a small hole one might be able to squeeze a baseball through. Beside the hole, in black marker writing, read the words: “suck it up”.
Henry allowed a chuckle to himself, which quickly turned to a gasp as a huge dick and ballsack inserted itself through the hole from the other side. Henry almost choked in astonishment. He hadn’t been expecting that, and didn’t quite know how to react. He glanced out the open door behind him, then back at the dick. It was a big hunk of meat, semi-hard, with a beautiful oily complexion like it had been especially tanned and moisturised. Beneath it, a neatly trimmed set of balls, tucked up into a package that looked like it had been photoshopped before his eyes. Henry’s heart began to pound; and he felt hot, like he was flushed with embarrassment. Not knowing what else to do, he figured he needed time to evaluate the situation. He grabbed the door, pulling it closed and turning the lock to ‘occupied’. Then he stared at it again. The dick was beautiful. Thick and long, too. A piece to be desired. Henry licked his lips, weighing the situation. He’d seen glory holes a few times before in pornos, but never one in real life, and certainly not one with a dick hanging out of it.
The dick was deflating with lack of stimulation, drooping its chin incrementally like the hand of a clock, till it was almost touching the wall. Henry took a step towards the toilet and put the lid down, then turned around and sat on it with his pants still on. The dick was around head height now, and looked even bigger when so close to his eyes. He licked his lips again, his breathing still quick and shallow. His eyes were big; his mouth ajar. He leaned forward till it was less than a foot from his face, and reached out his hand. His fingers hovered mere millimetres away, still unsure if he should proceed. Slowly his nervousness turned to excitement; his reluctance to horniness; and he felt his own dick twitch in his pants as his fascination grew with the big, bronzed dick. Gently, his fingers wrapped around the shaft. It was dense but soft, slightly oily as he’d anticipated, and warm with life. A rush of excitement spiked in Henry, and he took his time jerking it slowly in front of his face, his eyes goggling as it began to stiffen again. Soon the member was standing straight out again, glistening in the bathroom lights.
He read the words again. “Suck it up,” he whispered to himself, and without a moment’s hesitation more, closed his eyes and slipped it into his mouth.
The tip was bulbous, and smooth on his tongue. The girthy sausage was difficult to fit into his mouth without his teeth dragging on it, but he put it in as deep as he could go, focusing on every ridge, ripple and vein. He knew the taste of cock—at least the taste of his own cock from horny nights alone—and found it surprisingly good. It drove him on, and he dared taking it deeper as the horniness welled in him. He pushed it in and out, slowly suckling on the beastly cock. His tongue licked underneath, then swirled around the tip like he had seen people do on the Internet. He realised drunkenly that his mouth movements were kind of like a beautiful artform, and he alternated between different techniques, different speeds, different sucking pressures. The dick was growing even bigger and harder in his mouth, and he fucking loved it. He had his own boner trapped in his pants, loving how he was teasing himself by keeping it there. He pulled the dick out of his mouth, finally opening his eyes as he gasped breathlessly at the glistening member. A line of spittle ran like a spiderweb from the dick to his lips, and he grabbed the stranger’s beautiful meat with both hands, pumping it double-handed in front of his face as he admired it like a lover. Lifting up the heavy, cannon-like dong, his mouth made a bee-line for the balls underneath. His tongue pounced on them, lapping up the slight salty flavour in a vigorous rhythm, and then engulfed them in one. He suckled gently on one of the balls, spending his sweet time wetting it before he moved onto the other. He gargled them, licked at them, rubbed them in his face, then rubbed the entire length of the still-hard dick across his cheek until it pointed once again at his lips.
Breaking his trance for a moment, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his own dick, as hard as it’d ever been, and began to jerk it as he went back to admiring the specimen in front of him. He slipped it past his lips again, jerking it slowly with his free hand, at the same rate as he was jerking himself. He kept his lips tight, milking it as his tongue grinded down the underside. Moaning with it in his mouth, he went faster and faster without losing technique. His tongue felt a slippery goo at the dickhole, and he lapped it up, swallowing it ravenously. He didn’t know if it had been minutes or hours as he sucked this dream cock, and moaned feverishly as the dick began to thrust into his mouth from the other side. Deep, muffled moans could be heard from the other side, and Henry upped his speed. Soon a deep groan echoed up over the stall, and the dick began to pulse in his mouth. Henry clamped down with his lips, sucking hard as spurt after spurt of hot cum flooded his mouth in thick wads, shooting into the back of his throat. Coming close to choking on all the cum he was taking, Henry swallowed it down and kept on milking. To Henry’s surprise, the cum kept coming, and he had to swallow several times before the throbbing began to subside.
Once he had swallowed every last drop, he cleaned the dick off with his tongue and let the softening member fall out of his mouth. Henry sat back on his knees, panting as the glistening serpent hung there, not a drop of cum left on it. He didn’t even realise at what point he had shifted from the toilet to the floor, but he didn’t really care—it had all been so fucking hot.
After half a minute the dick disappeared back through the hole. Henry was sad to see it go; but he smiled to himself, licking the residual taste from his lips.
The sound of a zipper could be heard through the hole, and moments later a hard black shape appeared at the hole. It was a Blackberry phone, sporting a slight crack in the upper corner—and when Henry looked closer it had a message on the screen.
“Next Friday. Here at midnight. Knock to confirm.”
Henry smiled, biting his lip in excitement at the prospect of round two. He did the horse-hoof knock—three double knocks, like he had heard earlier.
The phone soon appeared at the hole again with a new message:
“Wait here for 2 minutes. See you next Friday.” It had a winky face after the message, and Henry gave another single knock as confirmation. He then heard the door open and footsteps disappear out the door. He took a seat on the toilet and waited for two minutes, then went out to find Patrick.
Much of the next week at work was spent daydreaming. Henry would entertain himself repetitively with the memory of what had happened in the bathroom cubicle, and fantasised about what would happen at the end of the week when he’d meet his well-hung stranger friend for another hot session. He was almost caught several times by his colleagues as he rubbed his hard crotch under his desk.
Usually his work fantasies revolved around Madison, the young secretary of the office. She was cute and quiet, and he’d jerked off in the toilets over her at least a dozen times. But now, something else had taken him. Some other desperate fever that plagued his mind with dirty, nasty thoughts. Dicks shouldn’t even be that perfect, he thought to himself. And he wasn’t sure if Patrick would be shocked, approving, or envious—if he found out, which he wouldn’t.
———————————————————
By the time Friday rolled around again, Henry had strongly considered telling Patrick. He wanted to tell someone about his experience, to say it out loud, to admit to someone that he loved sucking that cock. Patrick would surely understand; but Patrick was a blabbermouth, and his naughty little secret would spread like wildfire within the week. Besides, what if Patrick decided to take the cubicle for himself? He couldn’t risk it.
Near closing time on Friday, still stuck at work with a boner, Henry’s fantasies were interrupted once again by the sudden voice of Mr Gordon.
“Oh, hi Mr Gordon,” said a startled, blushing Henry, trying his best to not expose the twitching bulge in his pants.
Mr Gordon looked sombre today, much less amiable than usual. He’d let a bit of stubble grow around his jawline, yet it somehow made him look younger; and had he not known, Henry wouldn’t have guessed that the big man was in his early fifties.
“Henry my lad, I hate to do this,” he said, almost in a grumble, “but I need you to come in tomorrow for some overtime. We’re slammed with paperwork, and you’ve been a bit behind on your workload this week.”
Henry gritted his teeth in his mouth, knowing it was the truth. He’d been so caught up in fantasies about a magic cock that he’d fallen behind schedule—significantly.
He sighed. “Sorry, Mr Gordon. Had a big load on my mind this week.” He fought back a smile, realising what he had just said. “I’ll come tomorrow… Though would it be able to be in the afternoon? I’m expecting… I’m expecting kind of a late night tonight.”
Mr Gordon raised the corner of his mouth in contemplation, taking his moustache with it. “Alright,” he finally said. “How does midday sound?”
Henry smiled. “Works for me.”
This Friday, Patrick had decided—beyond all rhyme and reason—that he wouldn’t be drinking that particular evening. Although unusual to the point of suspicion, it actually worked for Henry, as he didn’t want to get to the club too late and miss his appointment with the mysterious glory-hole stranger. This time, he decided, he would go by himself.
The prospect of going to a gay bar alone seemed daunting, so he drained a couple of beers for some Dutch courage before making his way there.
He had decided that he would get there an hour early, just in case, and get himself into the mood of the club before the real party started. Fortunately the queue was a little shorter at this earlier hour, yet Henry still remained nervous lest someone see him queuing by himself to enter Little Kitten.
Inside, the party was cranking. Playing it cool, Henry made his way through the crowd to the bar and ordered two tequilas and another beer. He thought of Patrick as he downed the shots, giving him a mental toast, and then sat with his beer with his back to the bar, scanning the room for who this mystery dick might belong to. If the guy was proportional to his dick size, Henry figured the guy would be at least six-foot, somewhat tanned, and macho in style. That counted out almost everyone in the room, and his ***********ion of suspects was reduced to a chubby dreadlocked guy, a strange-looking skinny guy, and a tall biker guy in the corner. None of them seemed particularly attractive, but his gut told him that none of them were his guy.
But the night was still warming up, and over the next half hour he had begun to get into the groove of the club. Two more beers, three tequilas and a schnapps later, he was tapping his foot to the music and feeling much more relaxed. He began thinking of his task ahead. Would it be similar to last time? Was he being set up? What if he sees the guy and he’s ugly? Maybe he’d even come into the stall and want to fuck him. Would he want that? Was he going to get fucked in the ass tonight?
Henry knocked back his beer. He’d have time for one more if he drank quickly, but maybe he’d settle for another tequila shot and get in there early—just in case.
Taking his tequila, he sucked on a lime and dismounted his bar stool. Walking through the crowd, he realised he was drunker than he thought he was. He bumped into several people, eyeing everyone as he passed them. Was it him? Could it be that guy? Everyone was a potential suspect. He didn’t discount the possibility that even a small guy could have a big dick like that, and he smiled shyly at a handsome jacketed guy who looked to be straight. Inside the bathroom, the music was thumping through the walls as per usual. There was a trans at the urinal, and only the cubicle closest the door was occupied. He teetered past them all, slipping into the final cubicle and locking the door behind him, then put down the toilet lid and took up his perch as he waited. He looked at his phone. Two minutes to midnight. He took a deep breath, recognising a hint of nervousness fluttering in his stomach, then smiled to himself and visualised what might come through the hole. With a gentle finger he traced the outline of the hole, feeling the tape that had been used to keep the portal edges smooth and comfortable, eyeing the three words he’d become so familiar with.
Suck it up.
“Yes sir,” he whispered to himself.
Just then, there came an elevated pulse of music as the bathroom door opened, with footsteps that led closer and closer, and eventually went into the cubicle next door. Henry’s heart began to pound as he heard the door lock, and soon after came the knock. Three double raps on the wall. It was him.
Henry tried to control his excitement as he knocked back, replicating the pattern. He listened intently, catching a flash of a pair of black pants with the G of a Gucci belt. Then there came the sound of a zipper, and seconds later the very sight Henry had been waiting to see all week. Just as glorious as last Friday, the dick was big, thick, and tanned. It looked so invitingly soft to the touch, and this time Henry didn’t hesitate in taking it in both his hands. Easing himself down onto his knees, he looked up lovingly at the majestic specimen. He rubbed its flesh against his cheek, breathing it in, and began kissing it all over. This time, he began with the balls. Taking them gently into his mouth, he suckled on them for a good few minutes, then licked up the length of the shaft until he got to the tip. He let out a quiet moan at the sight of it, then closed his eyes and slid it into his mouth. The taste was now his favourite, and he gulped at it slowly, savouring every moment. He loved the feeling of the dick hardening in his mouth, and spent long moments exploring the shape and textures. The smooth bulb, the long and thick shaft, the veins… It was just as perfect as he remembered, and he’d even tried doing a little twist technique he had seen on the Internet, rotating it as he jerked it into his mouth. He could hear some faint groans from the other side of the wall, and smiled at the thought that he was pleasing his mystery man. He wondered if he should open the door and go around to meet him. Maybe he could look up into his eyes as he sucked his dick, or even let the guy fuck him against the wall…
Imagining several scenes in his head, he worked at the big dick feverishly, salivating all over the big meaty rod and sucking it deep into the back of his throat. He could take it deeper this time, and it seemed his new techniques had not gone unnoticed. In less than ten minutes he heard the groans building to a crescendo, and prepared himself for the payload. Coming to the climax, the guy pulled the dick slightly away from the hole and thrust it back through, fucking deep into Henry’s mouth with a desire that was truly palpable. Henry tightened his lips around the thick cock, increasing his suction and grinding his tongue hard against the pleasure spots. His grip tightened, his jerking quickened, and within moments came an unleash of guttural moans with a huge load of hot cum squirting into the back of his throat. Henry moaned himself, milking it firmly as he gulped down load after load. The orgasm again lasted a long time. The cum kept coming and Henry kept on swallowing. When it was done, he fell back against the wall with a breathless giggle. The glistening dick wobbled there for a moment, a small strand of cummy saliva dangling from the drooping tip. Henry watched it, letting the image sink into his memory.
Soon enough, the member disappeared through the hole and a phone appeared in its place, this time displaying the contact form for where Henry was surely meant to put his number. Elated that these encounters would continue, and maybe even escalate, Henry grabbed the phone and typed in his digits, writing his name in as ‘Friendly neighbour’. He then passed the phone back through the hole, sat on the toilet lid, and played with himself until his new favourite stranger had left the room.
What will happen in Henry’s next encounter with the Stranger? Will his mystery man’s identity be revealed? Will they take it to the next level?
———————————————————