Big-dick Bottom Pt. 03

I felt myself start to relax as I sped back to the restaurant. I could get used to this, I thought, my tips burning a hole in my pocket, and my hole burning from the tip of the blond's cock.

~

I worked until close that night, ten o'clock. Things got crazy for a few hours around dinner time -- the restaurant was packed and there were constant deliveries. Danny, another driver, started his shift around seven, which took some of the load off, but I could tell that everyone at the restaurant was stressed out. Out on the road, I got lost a few times, and I even had to stop at a gas station to ask for directions to a poorly marked back road. Tips were bad -- I was constantly running late. I apologized profusely, of course, but customers were generally pissed off.

I got back from my final delivery run around 10:30. Stacy, Derek, and Jason were cleaning the kitchen. The dishwasher was roaring and there was a loud clanging of pans going into and out of the large metal sinks. Over the din in the kitchen, I heard loud singing coming from the floor of the restaurant -- Mario -- belting along with the radio, which was playing loudly through the restaurant's sound system.

I pulled off my money belt and walked up to Stacy, but she flicked her head toward the door.

"Gotta check that in with Mario," she said.

"P-paulie, my boy!" Mario yelled when I walked through the double doors into the restaurant. He flung a rag over his shoulder and bounded over to me, rustling my shoulders with his massive hands.

"What the fuck did you do to your hat?" he said, snatching the cap off my head and running his fingers over the crusted remnants of cum that had dripped onto it. I grabbed it back from him, quickly.

"Uh, sorry, it fell into a puddle," I said. "I'll wash it -- I'm sorry," I repeated.

"Paulie," Mario said, leaning in toward my face. I caught a whiff of liquor on his breath. "Paulie, I don't give a fuck about the hat."

He smiled broadly and took the money belt I was holding and flung it over to where the cash register sat on the counter.

"I'll count it out tomorrow. You got your tips, buddy boy?"

I nodded.

"Good. Hey, by the way. I'm gonna count every fucking penny in that belt, you understand?"

I nodded again.

"If you took one cent more than your tips, you're fired, got it?" he said, gravely.

"It's funny you think that I made more than one cent in tips," I said, brazenly.

"Ho, ho, kid's got jokes!" Mario yelled, and he clapped me on the back. "Hey! Stacy! Stacy!"

Stacy came out from the kitchen with a mop in her hand, looking annoyed.

"Our man Paulie here's got jokes, did you know?" Mario shouted at her. Stacy rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen.

"This calls for a celebration," Mario continued, still shouting. He pulled me by the shoulder into the kitchen, following Stacy.

"Hey, hey -- everybody... Stacy, Jason... Derek -- yeah, even you, fuckface!" he said, when Derek poked his head out from behind the dishwasher. "We're goin' to Gio's. Clean your shit up pronto and let's get out of here!" Mario slapped my back and then went back out into the restaurant and started singing again.

"What's Gio's?" I asked Stacy, dodging her mop with my feet.

"Giovanni's. It's his cousin's bar. You don't have to go if you don't want," Stacy said.

"But... it's a celebration," I said, feeling bold. Despite the stress of running behind all night, overall, I'd had a great day. I kinda wanted to celebrate with Mario and the crew.

"Every Saturday is a celebration for Mario," Stacy said. "Most weekdays, too."

"Are you going?" I asked.

Stacy stopped mopping and looked at me for a second with a calculating expression.

"Sure," she said. "If you give me a ride home after."

~

In the end, it was just Stacy, Mario, and me who went to the bar. Derek and Jason begged off, saying they had a party to go to. And the other driver, Danny, had already gone home. Stacy rode with Mario and I followed along in my truck. The bar was one I'd driven past hundreds of times -- a repurposed farm house, by the looks of it -- with a large lighted sign and string lights around the eves. It sat right off the edge of the highway a few miles out of town. My parents weren't drinkers. Maybe a half a glass of wine at a holiday party or champagne at a wedding. They wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this. I parked my truck and felt a buzz of indecent excitement.

There were maybe half a dozen other people in the bar when we walked in. The bartender, a more portly, balder, and slightly older version of Mario, yelled out when he saw us walk in. He and Mario embraced energetically.

When the bartender saw me, he smacked Mario's chest.

"Hey, cuz, c'monnn," he said, pointing at me with an open palm.

"Gio, don't break my balls, OK?" Mario said, and he grabbed my shoulders. "This is my boy Paulie, and he's twenty-fuckin' one years old. Right, Paulie?"

I looked back and forth from Mario and Gio to Stacy, who had a bemused look on her face.

"Thereabouts," I said.

"Thereabouts, see?" Mario said. "Now c'mon, Gio, baby, get us a pitcher of the good stuff."

Gio sighed and waved a hand at Mario and then returned to the bar, shaking his head. Mario guided the three of us over to a booth and we sat down.

"Paulie, this round's on me, but the next one's on you -- Mr. Moneybags over here with your one-cent tip," Mario said.

"Sure," I said, smiling. I was actually feeling pretty flush. I had close to fifty dollars in tips in my pocket. In the span of a single day, I'd gotten a job, made some cash, and was socializing with people who didn't seem to hate me. Oh, and I'd gotten fucked by a blond stud with an amazing cock. All of a sudden, the summer didn't seem like it was going to be such a long haul.

Gio brought over a pitcher of beer and three mugs. Mario poured for all of us and then raised his glass in a cheers.

"To Paulie," he said, "Long may he suckle at the sweet tit of Pizza Hut."

"What happened to your face?" Stacy asked, after we'd all swilled our beer. Well, Mario had swilled, almost half his mug in one long drought. I'd just taken a small sip.

I touched my cheek. I'd forgotten that I still had the bruise on my face from my encounter with the ginger. It felt like so long ago even though it had just been a couple of days.

"I, uh..." I said, trying to think of some excuse that didn't sound too stupid. I hesitated too long, and looked across the table at them, Mario and Stacy, who were sitting and looking at me, expectantly. Oh what the hell, I thought. Might as well tell them at least the partial truth.

"I got my ass kicked," I said, "by my neighbor."

"Shit, really?" Stacy said. "What happened?"

I took another drink of beer, a bigger one this time, and started talking.

"Well, he came over and, you know, he asked me if I wanted to smoke some weed. And I said sure, so we went into his yard and started smoking."

"You smoke weed?" Mario asked, incredulous. He and Stacy exchanged a look.

"Yeah," I said, shrugging, as if it were nothing. I didn't know where this streak of boldness was coming from.

"And so we were smoking and we started to get... goofy... you know, high, or whatever. And then all of a sudden, he stands up and he pulls out his, you know..." I gestured downward.

"You're shitting me," Mario said. He was already done with his beer and was pouring himself another.

"His dick?" Stacy said.

"Yeah," I said, "he just, like, pulls it out and waves it in my face. And I'm like..."

I made a caricature of a surprised face, then took another swig of beer.

"And he starts to get really, like, aggressive, and he pushes me into this shed, and then, like, pulls down my pants. And that's when he hit me."

Mario and Stacy were staring at me, looking confused.

"But why?" Stacy asked.

I leaned in toward Mario and Stacy across the table and replied in a hushed voice.

"Because my dick was so much bigger than his," I said.

There was a long, silent moment and then both Mario and Stacy erupted into raucous laughter.

"Oh, shit, oh shit... Paulie..." Mario said, between heaves, holding his belly from laughing so hard. Stacy wiped a tear from her eye.

Mario took the pitcher and filled up my mug, even though I hadn't finished even half of what was already there.

"Jesus," he said, finally getting himself under control. "I can tell we're going to like you, Paulie," he said.

"You're a weirdo," Stacy said, but she was smiling.

~

We stayed for more than an hour at the bar. I spent most of the time listening to Stacy and Mario talk about current and past employees. I learned that Mario had been a "supervisor" - he hated being called a manager, it was so much less dignified -- at the Pizza Hut for about four years and Stacy had worked there for about a year and a half. They asked me a few more questions, but mostly just seemed to just accept me as a silent partner in their conversation.

I nursed my beer. The little bit I'd had was making me feel light and warm, but I definitely didn't want to get drunk. I had to drive home, after all. Gio came over with another pitcher, which Mario ended up drinking all by himself.

At some point, I got up to go to the bathroom. I was a little wobbly. I realized that I hadn't eaten anything all night -- the beer had hit me on an empty stomach. I stepped into the bathroom and in the dim light I was surprised to see a long trough of a urinal along the back wall. There was a stall, but the door was missing and there was a piece of yellow caution tape stretched across it.

Goddammit. Being so self-conscious my whole life, I avoided urinals whenever possible. But I didn't really have another option in here, so I pulled my penis out of my pants and started to piss into the urinal.

The pent up energy of the day began to flow through me as I pissed. My head was spinning and there was a hypnotic clacking sound coming from a ventilation fan in the ceiling. I thought of the blond -- getting fucked against the counter, the shape of his bulbous cock head in my mouth. I swayed a little, and put my hand up against the wall to steady myself. In my other hand, the shaft of my penis was getting thicker. The stream of my piss stopped abruptly. I swore under my breath and closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. It started to flow again. In my altered state and amid the noise of the fan, I didn't hear the door of the bathroom open and shut.

When I finally opened my eyes and shook the last drops of piss from my now mostly hard cock, I looked over and saw Mario standing next to me, eyes wide. He had his hand on his cock, but he wasn't peeing. He was staring at my dick.

Mortified, I turned away from him and pushed my erection down into my pants, fumbling with my zipper and belt. I looked back at Mario and he was still standing there, looking at my face now, his eyes wide and glassy, with his mouth open and his limp, stout dick hanging in his hand.

"Shit. You weren't kidding, Paulie," he said, in a hushed voice, and at that moment, a jet of piss came out of his penis and splashed onto the floor.

"Fuck!" he said, and redirected his piss stream into the trough. I pushed past him and went out the door without stopping to wash up in the sink.

I walked back to the table, where Stacy was sitting, picking at her nail.

"Hey, Stacy, I should, um, be getting home," I said. I didn't sit down. I was desperate to get out of the bar.

"Yeah, me too," Stacy said.

And then Mario was back. He clapped his hands onto my shoulders, from behind.

"Hey guh... you two... aren't gonna clitch... aren't ditching me, are you?" he said, swaying and slurring his words. He started to massage my shoulders with his massive hands.

"Yeah, we are," Stacy said, standing up. She nodded over to Gio, who trotted over and put his hand around Mario's belly.

"Hey cuz, let's get you a cup of coffee, eh?" Gio said, winking at Stacy and me.

Mario let go of me and nodded at Gio, looking a bit chastened. But then he wrenched himself free from Gio's grip and pushed a finger into my sternum.

"P-Paulie," he said. "My man. Biggest dick in Minnesota."

Everybody laughed but I blushed bright red.

~

"I think he started around six," Stacy said as we walked outside.

"What, drinking?" I said.

"Yeah. You smelled it on him at the restaurant, too, right?"

"Yeah."

She sighed. "Mario's a lot of fun, but he can be a little over the top," she said.

We got into the truck. I took a breath before I put my key in the ignition, trying to assess if I was drunk or just agitated from what had occurred in the bathroom with Mario. I started the engine.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Stacy asked, rolling down the passenger window.

I thought about my parents and what they would think about me drinking beer at Giovanni's and then having someone smoke in my truck.

"Go for it," I said.

Stacy lived on the other side of town, which was out of my way, but I didn't mind. I felt at ease in her company even though we had only met this afternoon. She blew the smoke from her cigarette out into the warm, humid night air. She told me that she lived with her grandmother and was saving money to hopefully move to the Twin Cities at some point. She didn't know when. But soon, soon, she said. I told her that I was going to be moving away this fall for school on the east coast.

"Lucky bastard," she said, and she flicked her cigarette out the window. In the rear-view mirror, I saw it explode in a shower of sparks.

"Literally the wrong side of the tracks," she said, as we crossed over a set of railroad ties and into a mobile home park. She directed me to the end of a dirt road and a rusted-looking trailer with flecked green paint.

"Thanks for the ride," she said.

"Sure," I said.

She got out and shut the passenger door, then stood for a moment, looking at me through the open window.

"Don't quit too soon, OK?" she said.

I nodded, and she ran up the wooden stairs to the trailer door.

~

When I got home, I went into the kitchen and poked around in the refrigerator to find something to eat.

"Paul, you stink of cigarettes," I heard a voice say, and I whirled around to see my dad standing in the kitchen, arms crossed in front of him.

"Where have you been?" he said.

I shrugged, pulling out a plate of food that my mom must have set aside for me at dinner.

"I got a job," I said. "Pizza Hut. I'm a delivery driver."

He squinted at me, as if he were trying to evaluate whether I was telling the truth.

"I went out with my co-workers after," I said, my mouth full of cold lasagna.

"Paul..." he began to say, but I interrupted him.

"This is what you wanted, right?" I said. I pulled the wad of tips from my pocket and tossed the cash onto the counter. "Here, you can put it toward my room and board," I said, surprised at how angry I sounded.

My dad looked at the money and then back at me. I could see the gears turning behind his eyes. But then, leaving the cash on the counter, he turned and went back upstairs.