Gerry & Me

I work in an office, mainly shuffling paper and answering telephones. Most of my work-colleagues are ignorant of the fact that I'm into cock, rather than pussy. It's not that I keep it secret, I just don't make a big deal of it.

I've got internet access at work, but it's monitored so I save my serious porn-surfing until I get home. I settle down in front of my computer with a few beers, and a roll of toilet-paper. This particular evening, I'd had a terrible day at work. My boss, Gerry, was riding me all day - and not in a good way. Gerry's a big lad, and fairly intimidating when he gets going. I'm not a pussy, but he fucks me off sometimes the way he carries on.

I had a quick tension-breaking toss almost immediately, and then went to look for some new stuff. I'm into amateur porn - real guys (and sometimes guys with gals) who've had photos taken of them. I was trying out a new site - the name and address don't matter.

I was browsing the directory, my softened cock poking out of my boxers, when I spotted a bunch of popular photos on a spanish site entitled just "G" and decided to have a look.

I nearly choked on my beer. The first picture was my boss, Gerry, wearing jogging bottoms and a rugby-shirt, smiling at the camera. I was sure there must be a mistake, and I leant rightup to the screen to check. No mistake. It was Gerry, my boss. I clicked the next picture, sure there must be a mistake.

No mistake. There was Gerry sat at his computer, almost naked except for a pair of y-fronts, hairy as all hell. He was looking at something on the screen, and whatever it was was turning him on. That was obvious from the tent he sported. He was leaning with his chin in one hand, and his iron-hard prick was obviously bursting to get free. It looked like he was using a webcam.

I felt my prick start to stir again. I must admit, I'd fantasized about Gerry before a couple of times. I'd never seen him anything other than fully dressed though.

The third picture was "paydirt". Gerry was sitting with his legs wide open and the crotch of his y-fronts pulled to the side. He was grinning at the camera, and his half-solid prick was peeking naughtilly out of the side of his underwear. I could see he had a foreskin, and a few teasing glimpses of crotch-hair. He was grinning, and from the glistening on his hairy belly and his thigh he'd just finished wanking.

I clicked on. Three more pictures completed the set; Gerry naked in the shower with what looked to be a sexy seven-inch boner, soaped and lathery. Gerry on all fours pulling his arse cheeks apart, pink hairy arsehole bared. He had a tattoo, a black celtic circle it looked like, at the base of his spine. The final picture was Gerry sat on the edge of what I assumed was his bed, his head back and his eyes closed, his boner in his hand - in two hands really. I grabbed my own cock, staring at the picture, and I jerked myself off until I came. It was a real orgasm, and by the time I went to bed that night I was covered in sweat.

* * *

The next day at work was torture. Almost as soon as I got in I was Gerry and my dick started to harden. I had to sit at my desk thinking boring thoughts, trying to concentrate, but every time I saw him all I could think of was the cheeky way his dick peeked out of his y-fronts. I imagined him tossing himself off wearing his red rugby shirt. I imagined him on his hands and knees in front of me with his arse cheeks wide apart . . . in short, I was feeling like a randy teenager. I retired to the toilet and stroked myself into a red-hot frenzy, then released myself with a few firm hand-jerks.

Gerry came over when I got back to my desk, and asked me for some files. I hadn't done the work, I'd been too busy fantasising, and he asked me what I was playing at. He obviously sensed something was up because he frowned at me a little bit. I could hardly say "I'm imagining what your cum tastes like" could I? So I said the first thing that came into my head and asked if he had a tattoo.

He looked at me and colour went out of his face, literally. He said that wasn't relevant and backed off. I'd obviously touched a nerve.

About an hour later, everyone was getting ready to go to lunch when Gerry called me into his office to talk about the documents I'd been preparing for him. As we were talking it was obvious he had something on his mind, and when we'd finished "talking shop" I asked him if there was anything else.

He wanted to know why I thought he had a tattoo. I pretended to look surprised. It was a warm day, and he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. I could see he was sweating and in the warm, confined office I could smell it as well. I said I was just curious, I'd heard a rumour . . .

He immediately looked pale again. "What rumour?" he asked.

"That you've got a tattoo on your back about here" I put my hand on my own back to show him.

"Oh. Right." He said. "Yes, I have a tattoo there. I didn't realise anyone knew, who told you?"

I said I couldn't remember, and went back to work. Gerry stayed in his office for the rest of the afternoon, and about an hour before clocking-off time I decided to take a risk.

I wrote an e-mail with the link to Gerry's picture-site (you can bet I knew it by heart), and sent it to him. If I was wrong, I'd blag it.

About ten minutes later an e-mail came back that just read "Let's talk."

Everyone else was getting ready to leave, so I picked up a disk and headed through to Gerry's office. He was sat behind his desk and he looked a bit scared, which is not an expression I'd ever seen before on his tanned face.

Without preamble he said "Are you trying to blackmail me?"

I was surprised, and didn't try to hide it.

"No, of course not. So the pics are you then?"

"Yeah." he said. "And I bet I know how they ended up there as well. My dirty bastard on an ex . . . but that doesn't matter. What do you want then?"

He obviously thought I was going to try and use the pictures to twist some office-advantage out of him so I took a deep breath and said:

"I wanted to tell you I think you have an incredibly horny prick."

He looked at me dumbfounded.

"I spent most of last night wanking over those pictures and wondered what the chances were of seeing the real thing."

He started to grin, then, and I knew it was going to be fun. I walked round the desk and leant towards him, grabbing his hand - he didn't resist - and then pressing it against my crotch. He felt my dick twitch and harden as I said:

"If you get it out right now, I swear I will suck it until my cheeks bulge. How's that?"

Gerry just jumped up, and moved fast as anything to the door, looking out. I heard him say "G'night" to someone then lock the door. When he turned round, I was on him. I pushed him back against the door and I unbuckled his belt, fumbling over his zip in my haste, my mind full of the pictures I'd seen last night.

They didn't disappoint - he had white Y-fronts on and it was obvious he was aroused. I stroked his prick through the fabric and heard him gasp something incoherent before I licked the cloth-covered mound and jerked the crotch to one side. His dick was as gorgeous as I had imagined. There was already precum glistening, as it started to rise up and harden. I got one hand firmly curled around it, pulling the foreskin back in a smooth gesture, and lapped him. His cum was delicious.

I swallowed him whole, all the time working my bosses' shaft with my hand. He was trembling, and nearly collapsed as I nipped his rod, coating it in spit, and he whispered "oh yeah man" over and over as I brought him closer and closer to orgasm.

When he came, it was only after a minute or so of hot wet attention. He flooded my gob, and I let a little dribble run down my chin into my beard. He leant back against the door of his office, soaked in sweat, and just said "Jesus" and my name alternately.

* * *

Gerry talked about getting his amateur pictures taken off the internet, but I changed his mind at the weekend when we spent a glorious 48-hours at his house, fucking and sucking, and trying out the shower. Office gossip suspects there's something going on, but that's for another time.