Cocky Computer Nerd by Will

When I was nineteen years old, I got a job as a salesclerk to help defray some my college expenses. It was a high-tech appliance store, and I used to get-off laughing at some of the assholes who would walk in and wouldn’t know a hard drive from a gear shift. Still, there were the occasional cool patrons who would wander in and really make my day. For instance, there was this one late afternoon when the manager had left early and this rather confused, very humpy, married guy came in. You know the type. He probably had one or two gay experiences in college just for the curious thrill of it. And now, fourteen years, a wife, and three kids, later, he’s had fantasizing about trying it again. But he’s been to scared shitless to ever follow through on it. It was that sort of guy.

When he walked in, I got a "woody" just looking at the quiet lust of his subtle, animal gait. I soon found out that this attractive, physically-fit, thirty-eight year old bank executive was rather bored. His name was Bryant Desmond, and even though he appreciated his work, his family, and his life, but, in general, he was bored. He had been “very” married for the past fourteen years, and he robotically performed all the chores and responsibilities necessary for a man of his education and social status - but he was bored.

He constantly dreamt of doing something breathtakingly exciting; something patently outlandish! He wanted to have an affair. More than anything else, he wanted, needed someone he could openly express his sexuality with. But Bryant Desmond feared his wife, feared his in-laws; feared his community leaders. But, most of all, Bryant feared himself.

Come on, guys, you know the type of super-closeted-dude I’m talking about – the type who waits until his late-forties or early-fifties for his frustration level to totally explode, and then does something so insanely over-the-top that it completely devastates his entire family and his whole up-tight, homophobic, heterosexual community. Well, that was our man, Bryant.

Anyway, that afternoon I had noticed him when he parked his BMW Suburban Van in the parking lot, and strode toward the door. He had a really hot, slightly bow-legged stride. Yeah, “hot” is definitely the word, 'cause from the way he walked, it was apparent that those balls hadn’t been adequately released in years. The little ding dong chime above the door announced his arrival when he stepped inside. Except for an elderly couple, the store was empty. I was watching him in a mirror that reflected the front of the store, so, he didn’t see me. He wandered on back toward the Software section, stopping on the way to inspect a few new gadgets that had just come in.

For several minutes he seemed to lose himself while scrutinizing a particular laptop. He looked so damn cute standing there silently machinating over god-knows-what. I had to get close enough to sniff all that obviously-married, sexually-frustrated, masculinity.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” I asked, stepping up beside him.

“What..?” he replied, nervously turning to his right, looking me straight in the face. I had, for whatever reason, startled him. But, as he regarded me, he must have liked what he saw because his eyes widened with delight and he seemed to emit a subtle glow. He just stood there seemingly trapped in the embracing gaze of my seductive, youthful smile. Dang, my perfect white teeth can dazzle anyone. And boy did I dig older men at that time; older, straight, married, men.

The chime announcing the arrival and departure of customers abruptly snapped his mind back to reality.

“Oh…yeah! Yeah! This laptop…’s really got my attention!” he nervously offered, pulling his attention from my smiling eyes back down to the computer. And, this, of course, was my cue to promptly segue into a spiffy sales spiel for the new and improved HP laptop. Throughout my entire sales pitch his attention was completely imprisoned by my every movement. He even seemed enraptured by the rising and falling inflections of my words, and my youthful animated enthusiasm. At one point he even complimented me on my stiff white shirt, khaki pants and slightly scuffed loafers.

Oh yeaahhh, Bryant gonna be my daddy tonight, I thought, as I flashed him my sexiest, boyishly-lopsided smile.

I was really working-it, because this guy really, really had it going on. I wanted him bad. And I was using every ploy I knew to completely escalate his mind and penis into an advanced state of incinerating arousal. And at the moment, my trim, toned, college-stud body was being seriously bombarded by the scorching heat of the raging arousal of his steamy cock, as it savagely flamed and burned just inside those Armani slacks.

Of course, even though I was selling myself, I also wanted to make a retail sale. A large part of my income was on a commission basis. So, when he looked as though he had been completely sold by my adroit salesmanship, I asked, “Will that be cash or charge, sir?”

That question seemed to joggle his awareness of the real-world fact that the boxed Laptop now sat on the counter, and I was expecting him to lay out two thousand bucks for it. There I was standing poised and ready to make the sale, and he’s giving me this “How the hell did all this happen?” stare.

“Oh!? Oh, yeah! Ah, well…” he stammered, looking utterly befuddled. It was obvious he didn’t want the computer. And it was even more obvious that he didn’t want to say “never-mind” in fear of sabotaging the lust-connection he had just made with me.

“Ah…you know…I…..”, he continued, stammering like a ten year old kid caught with his fist in the Brownie jar. But before he could continue, I reached over the counter, and placing my hand on his arm, said, “You don’t have to buy it, sir. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do!… you?”

The slight tremor of his body and the look of child-like elation on his face eloquently declared that he had felt my touch within every cell of his tantalizing body.

“Maybe you need some time to think about it”, I began, gently stroking his arm. “Hey,!”, I continued, shyly scratching my head, “….I’m just about to close up shop for an hour and have my dinner in the office in the back. Want to join me?

He was totally flabbergasted by my invitation. Embarrassed, he immediately blurted out “Wha..what? Ah…Oh! Yeah! Sure!”

Then, as if slammed by a swift shaft of lightning, it became suddenly apparent to him that I was just as horny as he was! The radiantly mischievous expression that filled the features of his face clearly stated that he was thinking “Shit! This is too good to be true…..just too damn good to be true!”

With the last customer departing, I locked the door, and put up the "Back at 7:00PM" sign. I then led Bryant to the office in the rear of the building. Entering the room, I told him to relax on the over-sized couch as I went to the small fridge. Pulling out a plastic container of leftover pasta, I stuck it in the microwave, and moved back across the room. I seated myself on the coffee table right in front of Bryant on the couch. Looking deeply into his sleepy, lust-glazed eyes, I playfully mewed, “Hi”.

He warmly acknowledged my greeting. Yet, he sensed that he was being given permission to do something, but he didn’t know what to do. Slowly, he became uncomfortable and awkward. Embarrassment and slight intimidation played upon the landscapes of his attractive face. Then, in a nervous flurry of action, he blurted out that he had to go, and jumped to his feet.

When he stood up, his crotch was eye-level with my face. Quickly reaching up, I encircled my arms around his hips, aggressively pulling his lower body tightly into my face. And as his rigid, twitching cock beneath those trousers furiously strained and vibrated on my left cheek, I calmly asked him not to go.

I, literally, felt his solid, rock-hard body grow weak in the knees. Clumsily, he fell back down on the couch. The hot, tantalizing feel of a mature man’s rigid cock on my cheek inspired me to completely lose my mind. When he fell back on the couch, I was swiftly up on him like a playful kitten on a red ball of rolling yarn. Frantically, I began undressing him. I wanted, needed, hungered to be hotly enveloped by all the pungent, eye-watering aroma of older male arousal.

He reveled in my aggressive assault on him. He was ecstatic. His eyes sparkled and glistened with approval as he watched my gentle, professional, soft-spoken ninesteen-year-old demeanor hotly morph into a crazy-mad, sex-obsessed satyr. First I undid his necktie and unbuttoned the shirt; then deftly removed the sport jacket and shirt with one, swift, carefully executed, movement. The belt, pants, shoes, socks and briefs all flew in different directions as I skillfully divested the very aroused and very appreciative man of all his clothing. In no time at all Bryant Desmond lay there on the couch as naked, and as innocently amazed, as a two-year old baby. His heart was racing wildly; his rigid prick still violently straining and begging to be used and abused.

Lustily, I eyed his lush, mature, businessman nakedness. I was hungry for it. I wanted to celebrate in it; I wanted to devour it. I needed to explore and own each and every sweaty crease, crack and orifice of it.

Slowly and methodically, I began the theatre of removing my crisp white shirt and khaki pants. Dancing over to a CD player I pressed a button and out blared the scintillating sounds of the Gipsy Kings. In perfect rhythm, I began to gyrate my body to the fiery Latin beat; I felt my aura beam as brightly as Roman candles. Bryant excitedly sat up on the couch, completely enthralled by my ribald performance. He was utterly swept up in the debauched cadence and pagan terpsichore of the spectacle.

Finally, completely naked except for my socks, I pulled them off, crushed them together, and threw them into Bryant’s face. Grabbing them, he firmly pressed them tightly to his nose and inhaled deeply. His stiff, thirty-eight-year-old cock trembled and quaked. Keeping one sock pressed to his nose, he slid the other one down and massaged his balls and cock with it.

“You are an Oink-Oink, Mr. Sanderson!” I laughed, as I sprang on him. My naked body hotly squirmed atop the hunky, six-foot man.

Pressing my eager, erect penis against his hairy, fat, brick-hard prick, I slipped my hands under his sweaty arm pits. Bryant shouted and laughed, arching his body high on the couch, as my hot lips came down on his. Our mouths deeply and hungrily explored the other for quite some time --- lapping, licking, and sucking, happily exchanging saliva with our searching tongues. Our cocks also dueled, danced, and caressed the other as they grew soaked, sticky and wet from the excessive expulsion of pre-come juices. Judging from his euphoric groans and elated, bestial moans, it was clear that Mr. Bryant Desmond was wildly intoxicated with the best monkey sex he’d ever experienced. I too was pretty damn ecstatic from the steamy, stinky hay-toss with a hot, mature, married businessman.

Lifting my face up from my attractive Bank executive, I was euphoric from the stored-up sexual tensions that wildly emanated from his lust-starved body. I felt victorious that I was able to inspire this sex-starved hunk to such lustful heights.

“I want to taste every inch of you”, I lasciviously warned as I began sliding down across his body. My wet lips found the slightly hairy chest and the small pink nipples. My tongue moistly encircled the left nipple – then the right. First, I gently sucked at it. Soon the sucking became firm and forceful. Bryant squirmed and writhed in masochistic pleasure as my practiced tongue drove him mad with erotic excitement. My mouth and tongue traveled back and forth between the nipples, licking, sucking, nibbling. The nibbling soon turned to little viselike bites. Bryant reached down to pull my head away. But my teeth remained firmly affixed to the nipple. When sensing that he could endure the pain no longer, I would release.

“What the hell was…….!”, he began, completely startled. But before he could finish, my seductive eyes locked with his. All of a sudden, what he imagined to be wretched pain was soon accepted as delightful, almost unendurable, pleasure.

I continued on my thirsty journey down to his navel. Again I kissed, licked, nibbled, sucked and washed-out the tasty, sensitive cavern with my tongue. My mind was soon inebriated with the pungent aroma of Bryant’s hairy, perspiring genitals. I grew more and more elated that my hungry lips would soon lay hold of those “prizes” – the taste of a married man’s cock, balls and asshole – with the most treasured “prize” being a great big healthy helping of the married man’s spunk shooting into my mouth and down my greedy throat.

Hearing his moans and groans grow deeper and more pleasured, I deftly slipped down and brought my watering mouth to the great bush of pubic hair. Bryant spread his legs wide and began humping his sweating body into my neck and face.

I knew that he was close to erupting. But I wanted to stimulate, tantalize and hotly agitate the balls and penis to such a great degree that when the orgasm came, it would give him a spectacularly mind-blowing explosion.

Roughly, I massaged the base of the cock and balls with my hands while I greedily licked at, and kissed on, the oozing head. Then I would suck and suck furiously on the fleshy head until I sensed that he was about to shoot, then I would rise up off. Bryant would frantically effort to follow my departing mouth by humping his ass up off the couch towards it. But I would start slapping the cock back and forth saying: “Bad boy! Bad boy”

Three times I did this. With each time, Bryant growing more and more heatedly poised for a sperm blast. Crazily, he writhed, twisted and contorted there on the couch, feverishly waiting, hoping and groaning for me to give him mind-blasting release

Following the third tease, I threw his legs over his head and buried my face deeply into the sweaty hairy oven between his hard ass cheeks. Like a maniac, he screamed in loud appreciation as I fervently tongued that boiling, virgin, man-ass. But my cock could endure my lustful cravings and antics no longer. As the odor and taste of Bryant’s genitals and asshole made me mindlessly drunk with unimaginable sex-hunger, my truncheon began to ejaculate wildly and copiously.

While I hungrily dined on that hot, pungent, hairy feast, I robustly moaned and groaned as I inundated the couch with rapid, excessive squirts of my abundant seed. As I still spent profusely, I dropped Bryant’s legs back down on the couch and engulfed his cock deeply into my throat. Bryant bellowed loudly from the sudden heated act and instantly began to pump a year’s worth of thick, mature, married-man ambrosia into my celebrating gullet.

Whew! And that was just the beginning of our explorative evening. The store never reopened that night. Over time, Bryant and I constantly found new ways to make each other produce all night long. No, we didn’t go off somewhere and live happily ever after. But I will state that Bryant Desmond was never bored again, and it turns out that he was my best customer that summer in more ways than one.


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