I spent the entire ride checking my texts, but there was no response. By the time I got home, the adrenaline had faded, the buzz of being taken had worn off, and my knees were kinda sore from the tiled floor. I felt so tired, just unbelievably drained, mentally and emotionally. I flopped onto the bed, fully clothed, and never even got under the covers.
My alarm woke me up, and I dragged myself through my routine and went off to work. I checked my messages before getting in the car, but still nothing. I spent the ride thinking about what this meant. I started to convince myself it was just a thing that happened.
I'm not gay, I got caught up in the moment. It was exciting, but I'd been in a dry spell, I needed some release and the opportunity was there. It didn't mean anything. I'm still straight.
I thought.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts, I didn't even notice I was going full speed at a stop sign. I slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop, nearly hitting a beat-up pickup truck. The truck crossed right in front of me, rage on the driver's face, his middle finger extended in my direction.
"Cocksucker!" he mouthed, as he drove by.
I sat there for a few seconds, and a tiny voice in the back of my head said,
"You are, y'know. You sucked a cock. You liked it. You're a cocksucker."
When someone honked, I started moving again.
I work at a pretty large warehouse, mostly doing inventory, writing up safety incidents, and managing the crew to make sure everyone was doing their work. Everything about my day should have been the same as it had been yesterday, but somehow, it felt different.
I found myself talking to Kevin, while he was looking for some lift straps, and even though I had worked with him for years, it was like I was seeing him for the first time. He was a few years older than me, had a deep brown tan, solid build and a little bit of a gut.
"I wonder if his cock is as tan as his arms,"
said the voice in the back of my head.
"You need something else?" he asked, while I was spacing out.
"Nope, all good." And I walked away as quickly as I could.
My dick was stirring in my pants, and I had trouble concentrating. I tried to think only about work-- about parts and inventory.
Get through the night, don't think about it.
But then I'd read Heavy Load on the side of a box, and would just lose my train of thought.
Every time I spoke with one of the guys, that voice in the back of my head was there.
"I wonder if Jim's packing a thick cock? ... I bet Chris is uncut. ... Ty's balls are probably huge."
I started checking my phone every fifteen minutes, but nothing. I went to the break room and drank some water, and tried to center myself. It was unbearable.
I spent the rest of the day hiding from the same coworkers I had been comfortable making dick jokes with twenty-four hours ago. When my shift ended, I got in my car and put my head on the wheel and just took a few deep breaths.
"It was a one-time thing. You're not gay, put it out of your head,"
I said to myself.
I looked over at my phone, and I had one missed message. It read, "how bad?"
I sat there staring at it. I could have written a manifesto about how bad I needed it at that moment.
I typed back, "I'm sitting in my car, dripping precum. I spent my entire shift thinking about dick."
Their dots appeared, and it felt like an eternity waiting for a response.
"Good boy. Meet me at my place, I'll drop you a pin."
I showed up to an apartment complex and parked. I walked up to a front door with a panel buzzer, and it was then that I realized I had no idea what this guy's name was. I'd licked his balls and made him cum and I didn't even know his name. I felt a little rush of excitement at the thought. I quickly texted him that I was there; he replied with '5c' and the door buzzed.
