The Wheel's Spinning but the Hamster's Dead

INTRODUCTION

Let's get character development out of the way; it'll save us both a lot of time. My name's Colin. I'm 23 and drive a 2012 Toyota Corolla my parents bought me when I went away to college. It's gray and is starting to rust along the bottom edge of the doors. I graduated from the Ringling College of Art and Design last year with a degree in Graphic Design. My days are spent working on freelance design projects. I'm currently working on 'branding' for a new gallery opening downtown. It's called iD, after the owners, Irene and David. The logo I've come up with is a lowercase 'i and a capital 'D'. Turned on its side, it looks like an emoticon of a winking smiley face. They've also hired me to design and update their website regularly, so it'll be a pretty steady gig.

To make ends meet, I work four evenings a week at the Home Depot on the edge of town. It's a steady income, just enough to cover my half of the rent and groceries. After spending the day staring at the computer trying to be creative, it's a welcome change. Working in the garden center gives me a chance to be outdoors, chatting with customers about gardening. I just have room for some pots of herbs on our porch right now. I especially like ones with strong scents, like rosemary and dill. There's a large pot of lemon verbena I pass on the way out of the house; I always rub the leaves to release the scent. One day, I hope to have a house and a yard big enough to garden in.

Physically, I'm about 5'10'', 150 lbs., so kinda skinny. I'm pale and burn easily, which sucks living in Florida. My hair is dark brown, straight, shoulder-length, and usually tied back. Cargo shorts and a faded T-shirt are my standard outfit, topped off with a backward baseball cap. If it's chilly, I'll put on a flannel shirt or grey hoodie. I suppose you could say my look is grunge. I've got a thin mustache and goatee. My body is pretty hairless, except for patches under my arms and pubes. Not that it's any of your business, but my dick is thin, long, and uncut. I'm only telling you this because I didn't realize how long it was until my girlfriend, Rose, had an IUD put in last year. She said the pill made her feel fat. I kept complaining I could feel it, like a pin pricking the tip of my dick when we fucked. She went back to the doctor and told him I could feel it. He said that wasn't likely, the IUD is in the cervix. I swore I could still feel it. She went back to the doctor to have the device removed. The doctor was surprised it was all mangled and casually mentioned that I must be exceptionally long, so it was back on the pill for her.

Now, about Rose. We've been together since we were seniors in High School. We had some mutual friends who introduced us. I immediately knew we'd be a couple, but she intimidated me a little. She was a year older; a friend told me she slept around a lot. That didn't bother me, I thought that was kinda cool, but I was a virgin. The only thing I'd fucked was my hand.

My parents had a trailer at a campground on a lake an hour away, and they would go there most weekends, so my friends would gather at my house to party. One night we'd gotten high and been drinking, Rose took my hand and led me to my bedroom. We got undressed, but I was so scared I couldn't get a hard-on. Our friends were banging on the door, telling us to hurry up. They thought we were having wild sex. The following weekend, we tried again. This time, she started blowing me to get me hard, that did the trick. She took control and had me get on top of her and guided my dick in. I came pretty quickly. I'd had stronger orgasms with my hand, but I was no longer a virgin.

After that, we fucked every chance we got; in her bedroom with her parents watching TV in the next room, in my bedroom, with my parents watching TV downstairs, in the back seat of her car, and even once in a graveyard (seriously).

She had a blue Volkswagen Beetle and was the chauffeur for our group of friends. After high school, we went to different colleges, but they weren't so far apart that we couldn't get together on weekends. After we graduated, we got an apartment together. That's where we live now. It's a two-bedroom, one-half of a duplex. I use the spare room as my office. We rarely see the older couple who rent the other half of the property.

The first night we slept there, I was excited as this was the first time we could have sex in our own place! In our own bed! I had fantasies of hours of sex and multiple orgasms, finally without the worry of being caught. She begged off, though, saying she was tired from moving all the furniture in. I didn't realize this was a harbinger of things to come. It wasn't long before we were down to maybe once or twice a week. That's the only thing we argued about, a lot. I think having sex once a day is healthy and reasonable, but I honestly thought three times a day was normal; first thing in the morning, before supper, and at bedtime. That's how often I'd jerk off if Rose weren't around. Other than that, I think we're the perfect couple. She supports my career choice and has a good job in the city. She makes more money than I do, but we split the bills evenly.

Jeremy's turn. He's been my boss at Home Depot for about a month. He's twenty-eight and half Puerto Rican; I don't remember the other half, I think Italian. He's a little shorter and stockier than I am, solidly built, the kind of guy if you accidentally bump into, he doesn't budge. His skin is tan, his hair is short, thick, and black. He's got the whitest teeth, the kind you see in toothpaste commercials, and the kind of smile that lights up his whole face. There's a crucifix around his neck on a thick gold chain. When I asked him about it, he said he's not religious, just sentimental. His parents gave it to him at his Confirmation. When he's in the break room, his chair is usually tipped back against the wall, his legs spread, his toes touching the floor to keep his balance. Everyone at work has a crush on him, male or female. I heard he's married and has a kid, but he never talks about his personal life. I even tried googling him, but he has no social media presence. How is that possible?

What I know about his past is just rumors I've heard from other employees. Jane, who works in flooring, told me he had a landscaping business for a while, and then worked for a pest control company. Another claimed he was on the S.W.A.T. team in the city. One of the cashiers said he was a salesperson at Best Buy. I don't think he could have done all that by 28, but they all sound plausible. He drives a white 2020 GMC Sierra pickup truck, the back still covered with remnants of old bumper stickers. Obviously, I don't know what his dick looks like, but I have to admit when he takes his apron off in the break room, he's got a pretty impressive bulge.

We've gotten pretty friendly, but Jeremy is the kind of guy who makes everyone feel like a close friend. I'd heard him described as 'charismatic', but I think another word to describe him would be 'flirt'. He knows he's good-looking. I see him flirting with pretty customers all the time. Jim, in plumbing, made a delivery with him last week. He said Jeremy recounted, in detail, the threesome he had with a couple of girls that came into the store looking for some Areca palms. They hung around until his shift ended, and he followed them back to their apartment. The three spent the night in one of the girls' double beds. Jim said Jeremy provided way too much information about what they did to each other. He blushed just telling me about it.

CHAPTER 1

"How late you working?" Jeremy asked as he sat across from me in the break room.

"I close."

"Sucks. I had to last night." Jeremy went to the vending machine and got a Mars bar. "You want a bite?"

"You know I don't eat that shit."

"Just being polite. Hey, you seen any good docs lately?" he asked as he chewed the candy bar, his teeth covered with chocolate. Jeremy and I are interested in documentary films; usually historical or rock documentaries.

"Yeah, watched one last night, Tower, about the first mass school shooting at U. of Texas in 1966. It was pretty amazing. There were no security cameras or cell phones then, so much of the story is told in animation. It doesn't sound like it would work, but it does. You've gotta watch it."

I headed back to the garden center and was counting my drawer when the store phone rang. The caller ID said it was from Jeremy's work phone.

"What are you wearing?" he said in a low bedroom voice.

"Jeremy, you know I'm wearing one of these silly orange aprons like everyone else. How could you be sure I'd be the one answering the phone? What if Bob answered? You'd be in deep shit." Bob was the store manager and was often in the garden center. I was angry with Jeremy for doing something stupid like that. If Bob had answered, Jeremy would have been fired, or at least 'spoken to' by HR. Jeremy was always playing jokes; I think he's a little immature. I was kneeling on the floor stocking a low shelf a couple of nights ago, and he walked over to me.

"Shhhh....do you hear that?" he whispered.

"No. What?" Then he lifted a leg and let rip a loud fart. He laughed at me and walked away. No one had done that to me since grade school.

He thinks it's funny that I'm always yelling at him. He started saying 'Have a blessed day' to customers. Being an atheist, I hate that expression. I convinced him that 'Have a great day' was more appropriate for a workplace. Later that night, he came over to my register, "It's time for your break, Allan is on his way over to relieve you. I'm gonna take mine, too. Why don't you meet me at my truck? I'll grab a couple bottles of water and put the A.C. on."

The garden center's outside, and it was a warm evening with no breeze, so chilling in his truck for a little while sounded good. I walked up to it and noticed a stick figure family on the back window: a dad, a mom, two kids, and a dog. I asked him about it. "That was on the truck when I bought it; I just never bothered to scrape it off." We were sitting in the front seat making small talk, and out of the blue Jeremy asked if I wanted to see his dick, he said it like he was asking if I wanted to see his new phone.

"Sure." A nervous laugh escaped me. I was caught off guard; he said it so casually. I guess he's proud of it and likes to show it off. Luckily, he had parked in the back of the parking lot, and the windows were tinted. He opened the glove box; its light shone right on our laps, like that was its purpose. The truck was pretty dark other than that, just a green glow from the dashboard lights, giving us both a sinister look. He smiled, unbuckled his belt, lifted his butt to drop his shorts, and pulled his dick out. It was a nice one, I had to admit, not that I have much experience. It was cut and pretty thick, surrounded by a nest of dense black pubes. A drop of pre-cum was on the tip, glistening in the dim light. He held his water bottle next to it, "Look, it's almost as thick as this bottle." He smiled, nodded at my lap, and told me to show him mine. I unzipped my fly and pulled it out, feeling like a little kid. Jeremy reached over and touched it.

"Nice, nice, and long--that's how I like them." He held his water bottle next to it, saying, "Jeez, you're just as long as the bottle!"

"I thought you were married?"

"Separated. My wife caught me cheating with a girl I used to work with."

He's wrapped his fingers around my dick and started rubbing it with his thumb, I could feel it getting hard.

"I thought you were straight," I stammered.

"Jeez, you think too much."

He took my hand and placed it on his dick. I'd never touched another guy's dick before. He was rock hard, like granite hard. Mine rarely got that hard, I think because it's so long, and when it does, it's pretty straight. His had a strong curve and was much darker than the rest of his body. The skin felt so smooth. I hadn't been aware of that when I was holding my own; maybe my senses were heightened by the situation, which was new and all.

"C'mon, let's jerk each other off before we have to go back in. I'm really horny," he said.

It was odd; this act that's so familiar suddenly felt so foreign. My fingers didn't fit the same way, the skin didn't move like mine, my arm was at the wrong angle, the sensations weren't in rhythm with my hand.

Jeremy kept talking as we jerked each other off, just small talk, as if we didn't have our hands on each other's dick. I watched as he came. He's a gusher, not a shooter. A thick stream of jism was running down my hand, collecting between his balls then dripping onto the red vinyl seat. It reminded me of when I was a kid and my ice cream cone was melting. This time, though, I didn't lick it off my hand.

A box of Kleenex was jammed between the seats, probably for occasions like this. He let go of me, grabbed a tissue, and quickly wiped up the mess. Then he continued jerking me off. "Let me know when you're gonna cum."

I moaned 'now' and he grabbed a tissue to catch my spunk. He was pumping me with one hand and holding the tissue over the head with the other. He held it there till I stopped spasming, then squeezed my dick from the base to the head to get any that might remain, carefully wiping the tip. He gathered the tissue to collect the contents, but some dripped onto my shorts. He opened the window and threw the tissues on the ground. I can't remember the last time I saw someone litter. In another situation, I would have said something.

"Some dripped on my shorts," I mentioned.

"That's what our aprons are for: to hide wet spots. We'd better get back to work, they're gonna be paging us."

I guess that was the first time I had sex with a guy. But was it sex? Does jerking each other off count? It's not really considered sex when I jerk myself off, so is it if I jerk another guy off? I guess that's a question for one of those internet forums. I went back to watering the plants and didn't think about it anymore. It seemed pretty ordinary. Jeremy had a way of doing that. I got back to the apartment just after 10. Rose was reading in bed, not asleep yet. I threw my work clothes in the hamper and quickly showered, hoping I might get lucky, but by the time I dried myself, I saw the bedroom light was off. Rose doesn't like to be woken.

CHAPTER 2

Over the next few weeks, Jeremy and I took breaks in his truck whenever possible, sometimes twice in a shift. Since he was the assistant manager of the garden center, he could tweak the schedule to our advantage. I had to admit, a quick jerk-off session in the middle of a shift was better than sitting in the break room listening to the other employees complain about the customers or their partners.

One night, he scheduled our dinner break together. Until then, there had only been quick fifteen-minute breaks; now we had an hour. We finished our subs, and he pulled down his shorts without saying anything. I swallowed the last of my Gatorade and did the same. We started jerking each other off, suddenly he grabbed my head and gently pulled it down to his dick. I looked at him. He was smiling with that gleam in his eyes. He pushed the driver's seat as far back as it would go. There was just enough room for my head between the steering wheel and his lap. I was hit by a strong, earthy aroma, almost yeasty. It wasn't offensive, you could call it 'manly'. I've always had a thing for strong smells. I licked his dick a few times. It tasted salty from his sweat. He had loaded a truck with bags of wood chips just before our break; his boxers were still damp.

Jeremy started raising and lowering his hips, making me take him deeper. He had his palm on the back of my head. I choked a few times, he just laughed and continued. With a low groan, he came, I could feel it hitting the back of my throat and filling my mouth. At first I wasn't sure what to do with a mouth full of cum, I decided the simplest solution was just to swallow. It didn't taste like much, but it left a slimy coating on my teeth. He told me to lick him clean and then dry him with a tissue. He was leaning back in the seat, his arms crossed behind his head, a big grin on his face as I cleaned him up.

He zipped his shorts, leaned over, and returned the favor. He was licking around the shaft and under my foreskin. He must have done it before; he could easily take me to the base. He grabbed my balls and held them tightly in one hand, almost too tightly, while he blew me. He said that makes the orgasm more intense. I couldn't stop moaning. I felt like a puppet with Jeremy pulling the strings.

Jeremy, my boss, gave me my first official blow job. Rose doesn't blow me, much as I beg. She has a strong gag reflex. If I'm lucky, she might lick it a little. I've definitely never cum in her mouth.

We punched back into work and headed to the garden center. Someone had called out sick, so I had to keep an eye on the register in addition to watering plants and stocking shelves. There weren't many customers at night, so it wasn't a big deal. I drank a bottle of water but his cum still coated my teeth. I ran my tongue along them, feeling it, wondering if it could cause cavities. I decided it couldn't, it wasn't very sweet. A cop came in and asked if Jeremy was working. I paged him to the register.

"I heard you were working here. I was in the neighborhood and had to stop by to say hi!" The cop fist-bumped Jeremy as he greeted him.

"I've been here a couple months, it's not bad, it's giving me a chance to get my life straightened out."

They chatted for a few minutes, but Jeremy was soon paged to the front of the store. Later, I asked him about the cop.

"He and I were on the S.W.A.T. team together."

"I heard you used to be a cop."

"Yeah, just for three years. When my kid was born, my wife made me quit; she said it was too dangerous."

One night, Jeremy and I were both scheduled to close. After he counted the money in the registers, he asked if I wanted to grab a beer.

"Sure, let me text Rose that I'll be late." I waited for him in front of the store. He told me to follow his truck. He said he's got plenty of beer at his place, and it's only a few minutes' drive. I thought we were going to a bar; it didn't occur to me that we'd be going to his apartment.

We pulled into the parking lot of a large, older apartment complex. It was a grid of six, three-story brick buildings surrounded by a brightly lit parking lot. There were just a few small trees scattered around the property. The grass surrounding the buildings was dead. His apartment was in a building at the back, on the second floor. It was just one bedroom, lit by those old fluorescent lights that give off a bluish glow. The main room had a kitchenette in one corner and an old sofa facing a giant TV screen at the other end. I could see the door to what must be the bedroom, but it was closed. The apartment was warm and smelled musty, even though the air conditioner was on. We sat at a small Formica table, the pattern worn off in places. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and placed them in front of us. There was a joint sitting in an ashtray he lit. We made small talk about work and some of the other employees. Soon, he smiled and cocked his head towards the bedroom.

"I've gotta piss, I'll be right back," I said. The bathroom hadn't been updated since the building was built. The sink was chipped, the toilet stained. Jeremy must be conserving water; he hadn't flushed last time he pissed. I washed my hands and found him in the bedroom. It was a little boy's room. The bedspread had pictures of race cars across it, and there was a laundry basket filled with toys. I heard a constant squeaking and spotted a hamster cage on the bureau. A tan hamster was running on an exercise wheel. The slightly musty odor was now mixed with the scent of cedar shavings. Jeremy could see my surprise.