Last Day

It was his last day working at the same place I had been. He was a pharmacist that I had blown a number of times. Physically he was fine, but at first glance, I’d say he wasn’t “my type” – which honestly, I no longer know what that means anymore.

But during the first encounter years before, he proved himself worthy with his attitude. I’ve said it dozens of times in this venue over the 800+ posts here: attitude with me will be a much bigger factor than looks or cock size.

”Josh” is about 5’9”, 190-ish and only about 6”. But it was his mouth (via talk), that made him so attractive. He was confident about who he was, and made it clear who I was at least in terms of our hierarchy. I was the cocksucker. He was the feeder.

He reached out to me, knowing he was leaving and figured he could get one more blowjob from some managerial faggot. The problem was timing and location. It was too early in the day to use my office. Too many folks around and I’d have no need to be meeting with a pharmacist. But he had an idea – a locker room of which I did not have access.

It was later in the day, but not near a shift change. I don’t know who actually has access to this place, but I assume doctors and nurses who need to shower before or after procedures or ORs. I know my ID did not work on the door. Josh’s did. He keyed in and in we went. The place was empty. There were stalls, benches and such, but he made a beeline to the showers.

There were two stalls. Tiled top to bottom and a full length curtain for each. I followed him in and he drew the curtain shut. At this juncture, there were no words. Hands on my shoulders. In my suit, I went on my knees not knowing or caring if the shower floor was wet. If so, I’d figure out what to do after the fact. As it turns out, it was dry as a bone.

I pulled at his belt, zipper and clasp. The pants fell down just enough. I did chew at his briefs briefly, but we are quite public and one just didn’t know what might happen. So he pulled them down exposing his 6” sword. I went to town.

With minimal slurping – not that anyone could hear – I bobbed up and down on his cock. I kept the cock lubed, but not overly so. It was easy gliding in and out. He reached out – hand to my head. Touching it. Then guiding it. Then gripping it. He has always been an engaged feeder.

As we would have heard any door open or close, he was safe to talk a little. “You like that dick, cocksucker? You gonna miss that cock?” I moaned my answers, as my lips were still wrapped around his shaft. He already knew my answers anyways. “My balls are full today. You’re gonna drain ‘em for me, aren’t you?”. How I fucking love hearing shit like that.

At this point he just takes over. He loves grabbing me by the tie and pulling me towards him. Tight. So he does. Over and over. He’s fucking my face. He uses one hand on the tie and one near the back of my head. He has the opportunity to do both or either. I’m good with both or either. At times he braced himself against the tiled wall, leaning into me, putting his cock down my throat.

It’s not a long blowjob. It can’t be for multiple reasons, though I’d love a chance to just worship that cock somewhere. The reality is: that’s not his scene. Not with me. It’s blow ‘n go and I know it. I am fine with it. He’s not looking for more than that. I know my place.

He pounded my face and throat. I took it like a man. A cocksucker, but still a man. And was appropriate, he had a silent, but large, orgasm into my mouth. I took it. I showed him his semen before swallowing it. He grinned, probably more at his copious volume than at my deed. I have a feeling he’s very proud of what he does and just expects me to do what I do.

He pulled his pants up, zipped them and as he pulled the shower curtain back, while I still knelt there, said, “Later faggot. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.

He hasn’t.