Going Deeper with Mike

By Rich B

Published on Nov 17, 2019

Gay

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This is the third installment of a new cycle involving our good friend, Mike...


... to finish out the workday.

I was engrossed in writing the boring boilerplate documentation when I was startled by my team lead's voice. "How was your lunch?" Jay asked. "You looked a little ... strange ... when you came back."

"It was good," I said, and I felt myself flushing in reverie... the thought of Mike's cock, the throbbing of my satisfied hole, and the tactile recall of Mike's hairy chest under my finger tips...

"You sure you're ok?" Jay looked concerned.

"Yes, everything is fine. Really, it's all good."

"Okay, Tim. As long as you know you can come to me with any problem."

"I appreciate that, Jay. I'm really fine."

Jay went back to his office, and I got back to proofreading my work. The dry technical jargon... the endless pages of notes and bullet-points... I must have dozed off because when I looked around over the cubicle partitions, I saw I was the only person in the cubicle farm. I looked at my watch. It was already 5:30. The light in Jay's office was showing through the shuttered window in his office door. I knocked. "Hey, buddy, it looks like we're the only folks staying late today. Are you going to be working much longer?" There was no answer. I knocked again. "Jay?" Nothing.

I went to the window. Jay's car was still in his parking space. I listened at the door, and heard the gasping of labored breathing. "Jeezus," I said, opening the door. Jay was at his desk, leaning back in his chair, watching his computer screen, wearing headphones. One hand was inside his open shirt, the other arm moving rapidly. He looked up and ripped the headphones off his head. "What the fuck--"

"I'm sorry man, I'm sorry" I sputtered, and bolted. I got back to my desk, logged off, and gathered my handwritten notes.

"Tim!" Jay called from his office doorway. "I'm really sorry man, you just startled me. I thought I was the only one here."

I stuffed my notes in my briefcase, and approached Jay. His shirt was misbuttoned. There was a wet spot on the front of his trousers. "Dude!" I said, pointing to his shirt.

"Fuck, man," Jay said, turning beet red. He unbuttoned his shirt, and started buttoning it up again, this time aligning the buttons properly. "I really don't know what to say, man, I'm so fucking embarr--"

"Shhh, man, don't sweat it. I don't care, and I'm not saying a word." I mimed a zipping motion across my lips.

"Of all the people to get caught by..." Jay muttered.

"Whaddya mean by that?" I asked. "Because I'm the office fag?"

"What? No!" Jay turned redder. "C'mon, man, you know me better than that."

"Then what's this 'of all people...' horseshit?" I asked

"Because... well, because..." Jay stammered. "Because you respect me. Because I care what you think. You're the only person in this fucking place I would call a 'friend'."

"Jeezus Christ, man. Don't get all girlie on me." I laughed.

"Really, man."

"I love you too, sweetheart," I joked. "So what kinda girl-on-girl bullshit got you so fucking worked up that you couldn't wait until you got home?"

"More like boy-on-boy," Jay said.

"Bullshit, man, I know you're straight," I said incredulously.

"So they say, but..." Jay grinned, "sometimes you feel like a pair of nuts, sometimes you don't."

"Whatever, man. Have yourself a Mary little weekend," I said, and attempted a girlish shimmy.

"Get the fuck outta here!" Jay said. "Have a good weekend yourself."

When I pulled into the driveway at home, I was momentarily surprised to see Mike's pick-up truck. The weirdness at the office had pushed him right out of my brain. He was carrying a large cardboard box up the steps to the front porch. "Hey, buddy, let me get that," I said, and opened the front door for him. Looking around inside, I saw that there was already a stack of a dozen or so identical cardboard boxes lining the entryway wall. Mike added the one he was carrying to the pile.

"Just in time, baby. This was the last of them," Mike smiled, and drew me into his arms.

"This is everything?" I asked, looking at the stack of cardboard.

"Yup," said Mike. "You've already got a house full of furniture, so I let her keep that shit. And I put my tools in the shed."

I nodded, remembering that in this morning's excitement I had forgotten to lock the shed door. "Wow," I said, "When you move in, you really Move In."

Mike's smile instantly disappeared. Looking crestfallen, he muttered, "Oh shit. I thought you meant what you said this morning."

"I did. I do. I'm sorry," I stammered, "You are completely welcome, and I want you to be here. It's just a bit of a shock to the system, and I had a weird day at the office, too, and it's all been a lot to take in."

"It's kind of tough for me to say, 'Let's take it slow,' if I'm staying here. I could get a cheap motel room for a while until I figure shit out," Mike said.

"No," I said firmly. "I really want you here. I just have to get used to the idea. It's been a long, strange day. Let's just relax and I'll call for a pizza."

"No need," Mike said, leading me into the kitchen. "I found your slow cooker, and the beef stew should be ready in about an hour." I was amazed. In the years Mike and I had been fucking around, he was always alpha, dominant, top. The dynamic of our relationship was shifting. I liked it. I didn't want to flip roles, but I could get into the idea of us being equals.

"Wow, thanks!" I said. "That gives me enough time for a shower and a cocktail."

"Last one to the bathroom is a rotten egg," Mike said, and took off up the stairs.

"I'll be right up," I called, and lifted the top of the cooker. There were potatoes, onions, carrots, and chunks of meat in a sea of thick brown gravy, and it smelled wonderful.

When I got to the shower, the room was already steamy. Mike was a mass of muscles, fur and lather, wearing a dopey grin. I stripped off my clothes and joined him. I held Mike in a slippery hug, and started to drop to my knees. "No," Mike said, pulling me back up. "Let me do something for you," he said. His soapy chest slid down the front of my body, then he looked up at me, kneeling at my feet. He smiled, and took my hardon into his mouth. I felt the heat of him, and the resistance at the back of his throat. He swallowed, and my cock-head was pulled further in, reaching its maximum depth.

"I had no idea you could deepthroat," I marvelled. Mike's throat muscles working felt amazing on my dick. After two strokes, though, Mike gagged and sputtered. I pulled my cock out of his mouth.

"I had no idea I could do that, either," Mike said, coughing. "I've never sucked a cock before."

"Well, for a beginner, you've really jumped in with both feet. You don't have to impress me, just take it slow and easy. We have all the time in the world, and I'm sure you'll get plenty of practice," I told him.

Mike took me back into his mouth, and began rocking back and forth on his knees, dragging his tongue along the underside of my cock, and swirling it around my glans on the withdrawls. I matched his rhythm. The spray of the water was hitting the patches of fur on his shoulder blades. I could see the beginning of a little thinning spot in the hair on the top of Mike's head, and the thought of his hair migrating south, making him even hairier below the neck (is that even possible? I wondered) as his head grew bald made my cock harder than I had ever been.

Mike worked one soapy hand between my ass cheeks, and teased my hole with his index finger. I was still a bit tender from this morning's workout, but he was gentle and his touch was soothing rather than irritating. His finger circled the entryway, before nudging it open and slipping in. He began working his own hard cock with his other hand, rubbing the head of his cock on my shin as he rocked. When his fingertip poked my prostate, it was more than I could stand, and I gasped.

"Holy fuck, man, I'm cumming!" I yelled, and Mike's finger poked harder as I lost control, and the first wave pulled me under. "Take it, fucker, swallow that load," I cried, and Mike swallowed in time to my throbbing, not missing a drop. I felt his hot splooge spray pulse onto my leg, and Mike's hand slowed.

Mike kept his mouth on my cock until I tapped him on the shoulder, too sensitive to bear any more. He looked up at me, dazed. "Did I do good?" he asked.

I helped him to his feet. "Yeah, man. You did great."


to be continued...


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