No Gold Watch

This is just a work of fiction. No one living or dead is involved in this story. Don't read if you aren't over 18. Don't archive or take credit this (as if you'd want it) without asking me first.

This is just a short little story but I'd love to hear your thoughts, whether through anonymous feedback. Thanks.

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While rummaging through my increasingly empty desk, I found a hand mirror. Odd how things get in there...not as odd as when I found a 4 Non Blondes CD wedged in a corner, but still strange. The mirror reflected a man I had known all my life, yet still felt alien to. The boyish good looks and sparkling blue eyes had grown hooded and slightly craggy. The broad shoulders, soaring pectorals and tiny waist had filled out to a functional, strong, but increasingly bulky frame. The wavy blonde hair had thinned considerably. I was 45. I was tired. And I was fired.

"Laid off" was the more official term. Either way, I'd been with this advertising firm since I was fresh out of grad school, had given them my youth, my time, my good will, my blood, and probably millions of dollars. They weren't even going to give me a gold watch. With all of the other department cuts, I knew I wasn't alone, and that I should probably be grateful to have hung on as long as I did, but being kicked in the teeth hurts no matter how delayed the connection with the boot is.

At least I didn't have any kids. All I had was Trevor, my partner of 12 years, and he fortunately had a successful business of his own. Maybe he could give me a job...

My downbeat thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"It's OK," I muttered, throwing a few more trinkets in a cardboard box as my

coworker entered the room. "Your loss, Michael, you get stuck with helping me carry this shit to my car."

Michael grinned his toothpaste advertisement smile.

"No fucking way, Carl. Maybe I'll push the elevator buttons for your ancient ass, but that's about all the effort I can give."

God, he was beautiful. His gorgeous Hispanic features gave him the appearance of a permanent tan. His 6'3" body was lanky, but pure muscle. Set off by close-cropped black hair and a model's profile, and he was quite the buzz among the secretaries. From occasional dish sessions I knew his best feature was hidden away in his ever-form-fitting trousers. He was a shark, but he was too gorgeous to hate.

He closed the door behind him and slowly approached my desk. His chocolate

brown eyes gleamed with anticipation. He was practically rubbing his hands

in glee. Odd...

"Remember that Christmas party a few years back?"

I nodded. He'd gotten drunk off his very fine ass and flashed the aforementioned secretaries (half of whom had already sampled all he had to offer, some of them going back for seconds) in a debauched striptease. I had walked into the room just as he was fumbling to button his shirt and pull up his underpants. My memory of that swollen boxer-briefs bulge and glistening six-pack had sent a very potent load up Trev's tight ass that night.

Michael was now standing right beside me. My face was pressed dangerously close to his crotch. My own slacks were suddenly very cramped.

"Remember what you wanted to do?"

In that hand mirror I could see myself turning a dozen shades of red.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He laughed. The lightheartedness in his chuckle disarmed most of my inner alarm systems. Getting away from that package had to be my top priority, but instead, I found myself moving closer to the material, my nose practically buried in the fabric.

"Carl, everyone knows you're gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that..." he muttered in a TV announcer's voice. "You've done a lot for all of us, helped when nobody asked you too. Now you're just leaving without a party, without a present, and it sucks. So, in tribute to the dicks upstairs, why not sample some of the real thing?"

Well, I couldn't argue with that. Or maybe I could and I didn't want to. This stud had been in my jerkoff fantasies for years. Before I could talk myself out of this, I cupped the crotch of his dark blue trousers, running my fingers up and down the ample material. I was a bit in awe, I suppose, but the door was unlocked, so time was of the essence.

As I unbuckled and unzipped the obtrusive garment, a packed jock pouch came into view. The taste of the soaked cloth against my tongue was sour but enticing. I turned him around him to inspect his rear end. Dimpled bubble butt, the same color as the rest of his immaculate skin. Before I could dive my tongue in the tempting shitter, he turned back around, lowering his jock to smack my kid-at-Christmas face with what looked to be 9 and a half impossibly long, thick inches of uncut horseflesh.

His soft fingers mussed my short hair, briefly tangling in the follicles as I pulled back his foreskin to sample the pink, plum-sized, well-protected head. His glans were deliciously sensitive and his pre-cum surprisingly sweet. My own package was soaking through my briefs by now, rewarded only by occasional rubs. Most of my attention had to go to this hunky hombre and his heartstopping cock and big bull balls. I suckled one in my mouth, savoring the residue buried in each of the coarse hairs which sporadically dotted his testicles. Both nuts wouldn't fit in my mouth, as much as I tried, so I went back to his crowning glory.

His moans became overpowering as I deep-throated him. The foreskin was now fully retracted, and my careful use of teeth and tongue kept his sabre in complete submission. I knew this had to end soon. I also knew how much I wanted to see this monster explode. I reluctantly plucked my mouth from his meat, licking down the veiny underside, running my tongue and fingers up and down from base to glans, while he cursed in two languages for more. His buttocks clenched with each new assault on his manhood. Licking a finger, I impulsively shoved the digit deep inside his virgin hole. He roared in response. Buckets of semen showered my suit, my hair, my eyes, my face, my neck. I was literally covered in his cum.

He slapped my face with his flaccid dick a few times before stuffing the anaconda back in his pants. I scooped the white liquid dripping down my face until my hands were slick with his juices. I noticed the large wet spot in my slacks. I'd shot my load and hadn't even realized until now.

Michael smirked when he saw me licking my hands feverishly, like I was his happy puppy.

"Thanks, chulo, much appreciated."

I swatted his ass as he walked away from the desk. I would probably smell like sex and sluttiness even after I'd cleaned up, but fuck it...this was my last day after all.

"Hey, Michael. Keep in touch, OK?"

He winked as he wiped his sweaty brow. "Sure. I never forget a hot mouth."

And then he was gone. What a whore he was. He'd never see me again. Well, no loss. He'd given me the best gift of all. I may not have a gold watch, but at least I got a great new pearl necklace.