SMITH & Greg, the Dirty Jock Lover

After a few weeks, it became clear that I would need some help around the apartment, so I knocked on Franco's door to see if he knew of any cleaners that were looking for hours. He pointed me towards the notice board that was in the foyer, saying he often used the services of a lad who regularly advertised there, and I saw details of a cleaner that I took down. I looked around at how untidy the place was. I just didn't seem to have the time, what with working long hours and everything. Besides, I could afford it now and the place was in desperate need of a good thorough clean. I also had decided that I would need it decorating to get rid of the generic eggshell colour that was throughout, but now that was a secondary consideration.

I made myself a cup of tea and called the number that had been on the advert. A guy answered and introduced himself as Greg, saying that he was available for work. I explained my needs were general cleaning and some laundry and he seemed happy with that. We agreed a price and Greg said he could start the following day, in the afternoon. I put the phone down, glad that I had that chore crossed off my list and promising that I'd never tell my Mom, as she'd be horrified that I had hired someone to clean up after me.

The next morning, I was slightly late for work, so had left the apartment in a hurry, forgetting to tidy away my porn magazines and films lying on the coffee table from when I jerked off the previous night. I only realised this when I got to work and thought about ringing to cancel Greg, but then remembered that Franco had hired him, and he had probably seen everything before, so relaxed a bit. I soon forgot about it when the troubles of the working day took over. We'd had a spate of shoplifting, so I was busy on the floor, ensuring security whilst the rest of the staff served customers, filled shelves and took deliveries.

It was five o'clock when I finished my shift, and against my better judgement, I decided to forgo the gym session I had planned and just head straight home, not feeling up to it. I didn't even walk; lazy bastard as I was, I caught a cab. When I got to the front door, I grew concerned as Greg hadn't left the spare key in the post box as instructed. I entered my apartment and threw down my keys and the letters I had collected. The place was tidy and smelt fresher than it had in weeks, and Greg had even straightened my porn mags and put the DVD discs back in the cases. I stripped out of my dirty work-shirt and made my way to the bathroom where I kept the hamper.

As I turned the corner, I could see Greg sat naked on the lid of the john, one hand wrapped around his stiff cock and the other holding one of my used jocks in place over his nose and mouth. He was inhaling deeply and jerking off, his stomach muscles taut as he flexed his hand up and down his impressive shaft. My own dick stirred at the sight of him pleasuring himself, and the fact that he was cute and defined.

I crept slowly towards him, then a floorboard creaked, giving me away. He jumped up in shock and removed my jockstrap from his face.

"I'm s-s-sorry," he stammered, his face turning a lovely shade of puce.

I smiled. "That's ok, Greg." I gestured toward the jock discarded on the floor. "You like the way I smell, huh?"

"I was just checking it to make sure it was clean, Smith," he tried to explain.

"Yeah, right," I answered, pulling my dick out of my work pants. "Maybe you should smell the real thing, you dirty fucker."

His eyes darted to my length, widened slightly and then he was down on his knees in the doorway, sniffing me like a dog in heat; my balls, my cock, my crotch, all musky from a day's work.

"Mm," he murmured, his face buried under my nut sack. "You smell so fucking good."

"Now, taste me," I ordered, before grabbing his chin with my hand and squeezing, so that his mouth fell open. I shoved my cock in, slowly at first, then deeper until he gagged. Then he took over, a hand wrapped around my dick as he sucked me, his mouth and tongue exploring every inch of my engorged flesh. I put my arms over my head, resting them against the doorjamb and fucked his hot, wet mouth, my balls slapping against his chin.

He stopped sucking and looked up at me. "I've been wanting to do this all afternoon. I saw those magazines and got really horny, imagining you jerking yourself off into that jockstrap, and leaving it lying around for me to find."

"Could you smell my junk on it?" I asked, turned on by the image he had described to me.

"Yeah, it smelt so good, so dirty. I never knew you'd taste this good, though," he answered, then resumed giving me head.

I closed my eyes in pleasure, as he worked me over with his very talented mouth. "Fuck, you give a good blowjob, Greg. Keep sucking it, just like that, yeah."

His hand was furiously beating his stiff prick, slowing down every now and again, and cupping his balls. I was getting closer to the edge and reached down to pick up my jockstrap, then pulled myself out of his mouth and jerked my load into the pouch, soaking it in my jizz.

"Put that fucker back on your face," I told him, which he did, noisily sucking my spunk from the cloth into his mouth. I crouched down and handled his dick, until his balls started to climb, signalling his orgasm, then closed my mouth around the cap of his cock and took jet after jet of his hot load down my throat.

We fell apart then, me landing on my butt in the hallway and I started to laugh.

"Can I keep this?" Greg asked, the jock now in his hand.

I smiled. "Sure thing. Call it a perk. And if you ever want me to add another load, just let me know."