Jerking Off at Work

A few years ago, I'd gotten a job at the local city college teaching martial arts.

It wasn't for the money, because there wasn't much. It was mostly to get me out of the house a few times a week. I'd been retired for four years and realized I was bored senseless. The gig kept me occupied, kept me from getting too soft in the belly, and was honestly kind of fun.

So, three days a week I'd go down to the college and spend four or five hours teaching people how to punch, or make 'em suffer through horse-stance training. I felt pretty good about giving something back to the community.

That day was a Tuesday, and somehow I had arrived twenty minutes early. There was a general office for PE instructors in the locker room, but it wasn't much more than a couple of desks and a mini-fridge. Still, it was a place to sit down and there wasn't anybody around after four, let alone on a Tuesday. I flumped into a chair and put my feet up and wondered what to do with myself with the extra time I had.

Sure, I could have put the mats out. I could have drawn up a training plan. There were a lot of responsible ways I could have used that extra time. I decided to jerk off instead.

Don't judge me. I'm not the only guy who's spanked off a quick one at the job. In the old days, I mused, I'd have had to stash a porn mag or two in my duffel bag, but these were modern times. My phone had plenty of great porn ready for the taking and my dick was liking the idea more and more.

I started getting into it, and I must have lost track of the time. I had been smart enough to keep the sound off, but I was definitely making those wet stroking noises a man makes when he's jerking off properly. My hand was slick with spit and pre-cum was starting to flow, keeping things nice and slippery. My balls were feeling heavy, and I was looking forward to blasting off a fat load before class.

I get startled out of my porn trance by the sound of footsteps approaching the office. The way the place was laid out, there were two entrances to the gym from the locker room. The most direct route took you on the other side of a row of lockers, but the long route took you right past the office door. Most people took the faster route, but today, someone was definitely coming this way. I had about five seconds until they'd have a perfect view of me sitting there with my waistband pulled beneath my balls and my dick dripping on the floor.

I hastily shoved my aching penis back in my pants, cursing myself for being so careless. I paused the porn on my phone, slammed it face-down on the desk and managed a casual look as Jason walked around the bend and into the office.

Okay, so, let me tell you about this guy Jason.

He'd first come to my class a couple of years ago, and I barely noticed him. It wasn't personal. I get something like twenty-five people signing up at the beginning of a class, but by the end I'd be down to six or seven. It was just the way it went, and I figured he'd be one of the dropouts.

I'm not gonna lie, it was his hair that made me think that. It was really long, and he wore it in a ponytail. It's not like I haven't seen guys with long hair before. I remember the 80's. But it just wasn't a style you saw anymore, and I figured him for a pretty boy who lifted weights for the mirror and was taking this class to show off for someone.

And, like, he obviously lifted weights. He wore really tight shirts and tight jeans and his chest and abs were visible, even under his clothes. He wore this casual beard, sometimes in need of a trim. I don't think he was one of those meatheads who lifted every day, but he definitely groomed and kept himself trim. I must admit, after the third semester of him showing up, class after class, he began to stand out.

Eventually we became friends, and I was stunned when he told me he was in his thirties, because he looked somewhere in his mid-twenties. He'd moved into the city back during the early Internet start-up days and, like a lot of people from that time, had eventually ran out of paying work. He was back in school for a career change and was one of those students that knew the value of an education.

He took the classes seriously, absorbed everything I had to show him, and turned out to be a really friendly guy. I noticed that he quickly advanced in his training, eventually helping the beginning students himself. I definitely noticed that he got really buffed up over the years.

Like, no joke. This guy had started with me kinda stocky but by the time he'd graduated, his shoulders had become ridiculously wide and his horse stance had given him thighs like tree trunks. I went to his graduation with a bunch of other guys from the advanced classes and wished him well.

Then I'd taken a bad fall, and my knee had never been the same.

I knew my old football days hadn't been kind to my joints, but I just couldn't keep up with the classes the same way after the accident. Jason and I were still in touch, and he'd volunteered to come and help me with the beginners classes so I could sit down and take it easy when I needed to.

So, like, there were a million people who would have been worse than Jason to come around that corner and almost catch me rubbing one out. It was almost a relief to see him, truthfully. But my nerves were still jangling and, dammit, I was way too erect to be at all decent in my gym shorts. But still, better it was him than, say, my boss.

"Hey, Sheldon." He said, casually. That was me. I'm Sheldon. But not too many people call me that. He gets to though. Some things are earned. "You need a hand getting your gear upstairs?"

I'll be honest, I really didn't want to carry my bag of gym equipment, now that he'd mentioned it. Jason was the kind of guy who'd always check if someone needed help, so I nodded and said I'd be grateful if he'd carry my bag.

I honestly have no idea how he managed to fall like he did.

Have you ever seen someone almost trip, but then almost catch themselves, then almost trip again? You know that stuttering, flailing, half-walk they manage when they have no idea if they're going to make it or not? He did that all the way across the office until he got tangled up in the very bag he'd been coming in to grab. Then he fell, face-first, into my lap.

Don't look at me like that. You weren't there. That's what happened, hand to God.

There I was, with this really pretty guy's face planted in my crotch. I was horrified to see that my cock had been leaking pre-cum through my shorts. The wet spot was an inch from Jason's left eye.

That's not the worst of it.

The worst of it was that his mouth, I swear, planted square against my hard cock. I saw it. His top lip was wrapped over my shaft. Through my thin shorts, I could feel his bottom lip pressed up on the other side. If I had any doubts, he made a surprised noise and then I felt his hot breath swirl around and literally heat the fabric of my shorts against my cock.

That was when we made eye contact.

It was this long, silent moment. I was looking down at him, his lips on my dick, and seeing his soft, long hair spilling around his shoulders. His eyes were staring into mine as we both registered what was happening at the same time.

I . . . I couldn't help it. My cock throbbed. Really hard. I felt it swell against his clamped lips. Then, Jesus, then he made this real quiet noise like "mmm." He was still looking at me when I felt his lips tighten, ever so slightly, on my dick.

Then, the moment broke, and he sat up. We both hemmed and hawed and made our awkward way out to the gym.

Making it through class wasn't too bad though, given everything that had happened. He didn't seem at all upset, so I didn't make a thing about it. Four hours and two classes later, I had pretty much forgotten about the awkward moment. I hadn't forgotten what his mouth felt like on my cock though.

Heading out after class, I noticed Jason was walking off by himself towards a lonely bus stop. I honestly felt bad for him. It wasn't cold like the midwest gets cold, but it was ten at night. Standing out there on a deserted street corner in damp workout clothes would suck. I called after him and said if he'd help me load my bags into the truck, I'd give him a ride home.

He jogged back with a big smile on his face. I watched his hair bounce and sway as he ran, and I caught myself wondering what that hair would look like with streaked with cum.

I unlocked his door with my key, and walked around the back to get in the driver's seat. Somewhere in the time it had taken me to walk around, he'd taken his hair down from the pony tail and it spilled down across his shoulders. I'm not a man who usually notices stuff like hair, but his hair was shiny and shimmered and fell around his face in a way that totally changed the characteristics of his features. It . . . softened him somehow. If a man could be called beautiful, then Jason was fucking beautiful in that moment.

Did I mention he was huge across the chest and shoulders? He was big enough that he didn't fit too well in the seat and he had to lean close to me for the ride. His hair looked like it was right out of a comic book cascading around his face like that. It actually took me a second to stop looking at it and remember to drive.

We talked on the way home, and I asked him if he had a girlfriend. I figured a guy with a physique and hair like that was probably beating them off (heh heh heh). He told me that his job kept him busy and he barely had time to work out, let alone date.

The talk started to get kind of personal. As long as we'd known each other, we'd never talked about his dating life. I was a little curious. My cock was also really fucking hard, and I wasn't exactly sure why. But you know how it is. A hard cock tends to affect the way you talk to someone. When he told me it had been at least a couple of years since he'd gotten laid, I laughed and said "Damn, you must watch a lot of porn then!"

He looked at me with a bashful little smile, and then he said "Yeah. I watch a lot of porn. I jerk off a whole lot."

I was more than a bit surprised at his sudden change to dirtier vocabulary. He was giving me an odd stare under that long hair, along with a smoky gaze that made my heart flutter a little and my cock jump in my shorts.

"Not in a locker room office," he said, "but a lot, nevertheless."

Well, shit. Just how much had he seen?

"Uh . . ." I managed, "I didn't know you were . . . "

"I was." He said, with a reassuring voice. "I saw you beating yourself off. You had a cum spot on your shorts all night."

I honestly didn't know what to say at that point. Nobody had ever talked to me about cum spots before.

"I kept looking at it," he continued, "Next time, you should have something handy to mop up, you know, the mess."

I still hadn't found anything to say. The silence stretched on a little uncomfortably.

"Sorry," he said, withdrawing a little. "I didn't mean to cross a line. If you want, you can drop me off right here."

"You're fine," I said, maybe a little quickly. I was turned on, my dick was hard, and I really liked the sexual tension I was feeling. "I'm not going to leave you on some random corner. I'll take you all the way."

"Really?" He asked, and then his hand was on my cock.

He might have said something after that, but I'll be honest, all I could feel was him touching my dick. His hand was warm, and he pressed it heavily into my shaft. There was no question about his intention and if there was, he squeezed my cock right then and made it crystal clear. It was so quiet in the car, I heard a little wet 'plip' as pre-cum squeezed out of my dick.

We didn't say much after that. There was only ten more minutes of driving before I got to his place, but he spent the whole ride squeezing and gently stroking me. I realized I was going to have a lot of cum stains on these shorts by the end of the night.

Way too soon, I pulled up in front of his building. It was late, and it was deserted. I turned to him, not quite sure what I should do. He still had his hand wrapped around my cock, and he was looking at my crotch. If my shorts hadn't been in the way, he would be straight-up jerking me off.

"Thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it." He said, doing this thing with his thumb on the head of my cock. I could feel the fabric sliding across my shaft and my hips pumped up, sliding into his grip.

"You don't have to do that." I said, hoping he would anyway.

He didn't even reply, he just pulled the waist of my pants down and let my cock spring free. He knew how to slip the waistband under my balls. It happened so smoothly, I figured he'd practiced. Then I felt his bare hand on my dick.He stroked my hard cock, and fuck, he was doing a damn good job. No pulling, not too much friction, just a steady pumping that made my brain light on fire and my nuts pull up tight.

"I can't do it properly if it's dry." He said. I watched him open his pretty mouth and let a long runner of drool fall into the pocket between his fist and my dick. Almost immediately, he went from lightly teasing me to jerking me off with clear intention. The lubrication changed the feeling from nice to fucking intense, and I gasped as wet sounds began to fill the cab.

I didn't last very long. I'm not proud of it, but it had been a long time since anyone but me had touched my dick. He had this way of squeezing his hand across the head of my cock with each finger in turn. I hadn't seen my cock that big and swollen in years. I think I could have handled just the one hand working my rod for a little longer, but then he suddenly cupped my balls with his other hand and gently shook them.

That's when I fucking came. I came so goddamn hard my ears started to ring. He didn't stop, just kept stroking me, all the way through my orgasm. I could smell my own cum in the cab as I gasped and heaved and unloaded my balls right there.

I made a ridiculous mess. There was sperm all over his hand, all over my crotch, my shirt, and my shorts. A long gob dripped off the steering wheel. Even my windshield had been splattered. I stared at him, stunned at the intensity of what I'd just felt and the endorphin rush of the afterglow. His smile was so pretty in the light of the streetlamp, and he kissed me, softly, while the last of my cum bubbled into his fist.

He left me there, with my cock exposed and drained. He opened the door, got out, and I watched him shake his hand off with a wry smile. I actually heard the cum from his hand splatter on the ground. I had shot so much juice, I'd probably lost a couple pounds. I could even feel my dick, still jumping and kicking, in the wet mess of my crotch. He waved to me through the window, blew me a kiss. I could see cum still shining on his hand.

Then he went into his apartment and I drove home.

I felt really guilty that night. Partially because I wondered if I'd taken advantage of him. Partially because driving home while sitting in a pool of my own cum had gotten me hard again.

It took me a good half-hour to clean that load out of my truck the next day. It might not have gone faster, but about halfway through the memory of his hands and his hair and the smell of my old cum had me so turned on so much that I had to jerk off.I was really wondering what was going to happen the next day in class. Jason would be there, and things were a little different now. I didn't know what to expect. But holy fuck, I couldn't remember the last time I'd cum so hard.

I jerked off four times that day thinking about him.

Class time came around the next day, and Jason was there, as usual. He didn't meet me in the office this time, but he was waiting for me in the gym. Much to my relief, the energy between us was totally cool. Jason was friendly and polite, helped with the class, and really just put me at my ease. Before too long, I was hard again, and watching his ass in his tight gym shorts.

At the end of the class, he caught my eye. With my heart pounding, I offered him a ride home again. "Just help me get my stuff in the truck," I said. "I'll take you home, like last time."

Turns out, I didn't need much small talk for that ride home. He had his hand on my dick before I even got out of the parking lot. By the time I was turning on the expressway, my cock was fully out. He was jerking me off steadily and with purpose, making sure to keep me lubed with his spit. I very carefully stuck to the speed limit while I listened to the noise of his wet hand stroking my cock.

I don't know how I kept it together to get to his place, but I did. I managed to pull up to a nearby spot and park the truck. He was leaning over me at this point, his hair taken down and hanging while his hand worked my wet dick. He was breathing hard, and I noticed how pretty and swollen his lips were.

"Tell me when you're cumming." He said. I meant to make it last a while, but hearing that sent me over the edge and I groaned deeply.

The next thing I knew, his head was in my crotch and I felt my pulsing dick sink deep into his mouth. You know that first, wet moment when you slip your cock into someone's mouth? The feel of lips sliding wetly along the length of your cock and the soft tissue in the back of the throat parting around the head? That's one of my favorite moments. Always has been. My eyes rolled back in my head as he sucked my hard dick and made slurping noises as I began to cum.Light started to flash behind my eyes and I shot a wad like I hadn't shot in years. It felt like I was unloading gallons of sperm into his mouth. I heard him gurgle and cough as I pumped and throbbed, but I couldn't stop if I wanted to. I put my hands on the back of his head and pushed my cock deep into his face and just came and came and came.

He didn't flinch. He didn't try to come up for air the whole time. He just stayed there and swallowed what I gave him. Mouthful after mouthful he swallowed, making incredible gulping noises the whole time. When I was done, I was drained and trembling.

I felt ten years younger. I felt more relaxed than I'd been in forever. I lay back, smiling, and let him clean me up. I listened to him softly slurping up the cum that he hadn't managed to swallow. He was so polite, even with jism dripping from his mouth. He slipped my dick back into my pants, and gave it a little farewell kiss, polite as you please.

Sitting up, I saw his chin dripping with spit and cum. It was even his his hair, where he hadn't been able to keep it out of the way. Looking down, he smiled as he noticed the cummy stains he was leaving on his shirt.

He sat back into the passenger seat, taking a breath and wiping his mouth. Not that it did him much good. There was almost as much cum on his hand as there was on his face. All he managed to do was smear the ropy mess around.He was smiling that gorgeous smile of his like he was proud of himself, and I guess he had every reason to be. I watched him lick a thick rope of cum stretching from his hand to his mouth and casually swallow it down. I am not going to sit here and tell you it wasn't hot as fuck watching him snack on my load, because it fucking was.

Eventually I noticed that he was rubbing his own cock through his jeans. I have no idea why, but the thought of his hard dick just a few feet away made my just-drained balls stir again. I don't know how long I was staring at his tented crotch, but he got the hint and pulled his own dick out, wet with precum and so hard veins stood out like fleshy welts.

I'm no expert, but his dick seemed pretty big. He had a long shaft and a nice, fat heat on the end of it. I watched as he ran his fingers through a leaky drip of precum and smear it all over his cockhead. I realized he was jerking off for me, and my cock, drained as it was, definitely started to harden again. He was only using two fingers to stroke himself, I noticed. Something in me decided right there that two fingers just wasn't appropriate for a man this pretty.