Hooking Thomas
By Simon Peter
Our eyes met. Maybe for a few seconds, but it was enough to send shivers down my spine. Intense. There was a flicker before he averted his eyes to watch the old lady trying to figure out how much change she needed, fumbling inside her large sack and counting coins onto the counter in front of him.
There was another customer, a middle-aged man, in front of me. I tried to relax my grip onto the trolley bar, watching the cute, young employee patiently waiting for the old lady. Actually, this was the second time I see him. When I had shopped here last week, he'd helped me with the bags to my car. I had thought then how cute the guy was, but there'd been no incident of eye-locking then as there was a couple of minutes ago.
I regarded this kind of instant sensations as my hunger for getting laid. It'd been so long since I got to be with another man. Although I would think of myself as an eligible 35-year-old male, not too bad to look at, I had not been able to get laid. I couldn't count the one time I got a blowjob in the men's room at work as getting laid. What I really needed was a man in my bed, naked, hard, and full with lust. Or a teen boy? Definitely not some random dude on his knees gobbling my dick.
The old lady was finally done. I took a breath of relief and pushed my trolley forward as the man in front me moved to check out his purchases. I studied the cash boy's face as I waited. A light beard, more fuzzy than shaggy, trimmed. Eyeglasses, the Harry Potter kind. A yellow polo shirt with the store logo (a green palm tree) on the breast pocket. From the fleeting glance of before, I could tell that his eyes were a mix of brown and green, but regardless of the color, the gaze had been intense.
The sexy kid's biceps bulged through the short sleeves of his polo shirt, as he scanned and moved the man's articles. I loved the rippling of muscle, and in my sex-parched mind, I visualized those muscles planted on both sides of my body, bulging and veined, as we made love. My nether parts twitched.
Now my turn. The kid looked up at me as I started to place my purchases on the counter belt in front of him, noticing his name tag, Thomas. Now I had a name. Thomas. Tom. I would be crying out Tommy if he were on top of me pounding me. My mind saw him sweating, breathing hard, my hands grabbing his bulging biceps, my eyes glued to his chest muscles, pecs and abs rippling, with the effort of slamming into me, his thick manhood filling my insides.
My nether regions responded with more twitching and I felt a semi-erection developing inside my grey sweat pants.
"Sir," Thomas looked up at me, holding the bottle of dishwash soap. "There is a special offer on these. If you buy one more you get a bottle of shampoo free."
I didn't need another bottle of dishwash soap, since I was living alone. My lunches I had at work, and most of the time I went out for dinner or I ordered a takeaway. But... He had this cute look on his face. Whether he was looking out for my benefit, or for the store promotion, I didn't care. Mesmerized by his look, I nodded. He got up and I inhaled, audibly, when I saw his crotch. He was wearing a dress pair of dark blue pants, but the outline of his dick was stretching the fabric sideways. My imagination ran rampart. That dick. When hard? Pressing on my butt in a hug, and... grinding? My mind reeled.
How desperate was I! How pathetic! How delicious my imagination! Oh, oh, how aching for a hot fuck was I!
Thomas, Tom, Tommy... got me the special offer, rang off the rest of my stuff. I handed him my card. Our fingers touched. I shivered. Did he notice? The electricity that streamed from his sexy fingers into the deepest of my core?
Thomas called for another cashier to take over his station and started gathering my bags.
"Hey," I croaked. "You don't have to do that. I can take them myself."
He smiled, a straight, white set of healthy teeth gleaming, only what a healthy teen boy could show. I estimated him to be a teen boy. not even eighteen, probably, in spite of the beard. He had that kind of face: innocent, yet full of youth, and I bet full of lust and vigor.
"No worries." He hefted the bags, and his biceps did the rippling dance, and I almost fainted. My bulge must have been visible because I was definitely developing a boner.
I could also notice the rippling abs as he carried the bags. Even the nipples poked through the yellow polo shirt.
With wobbling knees, I followed him, my eyes glued to his butt, to his glutes as they stretched and flexed in his boy swagger.
I fished out a tenner. Was that too much? I could fish out a hundred, just to feast at the sexiest male body ever.
"Man. That's ok," he said, a frown on his face, when he saw the bill. I pressed it into his hand, surely blushing, and he gazed into my eyes. They were definitely brown, I now saw, speckled with green spots. He squeezed my hand back, and I felt his thumb caressing my wrist for a second or two or eternity. I almost shot my load.
I was thinking as I drove back to my apartment. I must be sex-crazy. All of this probably meant nothing. But the gaze, the smile, the squeeze, the thumb caress. It couldn't be just that. It had to be more. Flirting? No way. Why would a teen boy flirt with someone like me, even if he were gay? It was something I couldn't fathom.
There was this colleague of mine, thirty-ish, who I thought was interested in me from the way he looked at me, especially during meetings and sometimes when our paths crossed along a corridor or in the cafeteria. That I could understand, I could relate to. A gay man attracted to another man, but not daring to go further for fear of outing himself, probably, or the harsh reaction of the other supposedly-straight man.
It was only when we met at the lift and got into it, just the two of us. He'd gazed into my eyes, although the norm was for people to stare straight ahead or up towards the ceiling. As the lift moved up, his glances had flitted down to my crotch and back to my face. He was casing me. I had nodded, blushing. He took that as a sign of encouragement and tentatively placed his hand on my crotch. Instead of moving away, I had pressed against his hand. He moaned. We got up to the floor and the lift door opened. He quickly moved his caressing hand away.
Later we chanced to be in the men's room. There, he had given me a knee-shaking blowjob, gobbling my 8-incher to the base as he squatted in front of me in one of the booths. His dick was out and hard, but I noticed that he jizzed as soon as he felt my squirts hitting his throat. Without even touching himself.
I meant to have more of the guy. His sucking my cock was like a pro. He was able to deep throat me and I loved it.
But with Thomas? I would be the one on my knees!
