Learning To Have Fun

It was seven o'clock Friday night, and I was settling in to my usual Friday night routine: work. One problem with being a project lead was that the old idea of nine-to-five didn't apply to you. You worked until you were finished, and there was no one to pass the buck to if you didn't. And if the team didn't meet their deadlines, it was your ass on the line.

We'd only reached the halfway point in the project, and I could already feel the warning signs of burnout. 'Just wait until this one's over,' I told myself. 'Then we'll go on a nice long vacation.'

I sorted. Who did I think I was kidding? I was a workaholic. This project would end and they would put me on another one right away because I was damn good at my job, and I wouldn't say no. My brother kept telling me to get a life, but I wasn't sure that I knew how anymore.

I shifted in my seat and groaned as stiff muscles protested. I stood up and did a few stretches. Tomorrow I would go to the gym, I promised myself. It was the one part of my regular routine that had nothing to do with work. While I wasn't a muscle-bound oaf who lived at the gym, I did work out regularly, at least twice a week. I had promised myself long ago that I wasn't going to let myself become one of those big-assed flabby execs like the ones I reported to. No, my stomach was flat and my ass was tight and the muscles of my arms and legs and chest were all sharply defined. I had nothing to be ashamed of in the body department. It made up for an ordinary face; the boy-next-door look, I'd been told many times in my life.

I was doing a few leg stretches when the door to my office opened, surprising me. The cleaning staff didn't come until after ten (a fact I knew since I was often still here when they did) and on a Friday I didn't think anyone else would still be around.

I looked up and found Steve, one of my engineers, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. I was a little surprised to see him there. Steve rarely worked over-time if he could help it. It wasn't that he was lazy; he was damned good at his job, so he rarely needed to, although he was more than willing to put in the extra hours when necessary.

"What?" I asked, feeling suddenly defensive at the disappointed look on his face.

"You planning on living here this weekend?" Steve asked.

"Of course not," I snorted.

"You planning on getting out of here anytime soon?" he countered.

That, I didn't respond to. I was a little embarrassed to admit that the answer was 'No'. On the other hand, my family was all out of state, and I didn't have a girlfriend or even a pet, so there was no one waiting for me at home. If I wanted to work late, it was none of his business.

My silence was obviously confirmation enough. Steve snagged my jacket from where it was hanging on the back of the door and grabbed my wrist. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged from my office at a pace too fast for me to even dig in my heels and try to stop.

"What the hell?" I sputtered. I was his boss, damnit. What the hell did he think he was doing?

"Jimmy-boy," he said firmly, "you have obviously forgotten how to have fun. I'm going to refresh your memory." Then he clammed up.

I was still pretty stunned, so we were in his car and out of the parking lot before I realized it. "My car," I protested, twisting in the passenger seat of his little sports car.

"I'll bring you back for it," he replied, his eyes staying on the road.

"But..."

"No buts," he said, shooting a glance my way that made me shut my mouth. "I have been watching you work your way into an early grave for the last year. No more. If you won't take care of yourself, then I guess someone else will have to do it for you."

The rest of the ride went in silence. I was stunned. This wasn't exactly the Steve I knew. The Steve I knew at work was a brilliant engineer and a happy-go-lucky kind of guy who got along with everyone. He was almost five years younger than me, but sometimes the gap felt even greater. He was like a kid who couldn't wait to see what was just around the corner.

This Steve was more commanding, a more forceful presence. We were about the same size, but while he sometimes felt a little smaller than me at work, now he seemed to loom over me. I shivered briefly, wondering if he'd gone around the bend or something.

We pulled to a stop in the parking lot of a very nice apartment building. I barely had time to look at it before I was being dragged inside and upstairs to a small but tidy apartment. Steve pushed me into an armchair and said, "Stay," in a forceful tone before disappearing into what was probably the bedroom.

I bristled at the order. I should just get the hell out of here; go back to the office, go home, go someplace else.

I didn't move.

In the bedroom, I could hear drawers opening, then clothes rustling. After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, Steve came back out, and my jaw dropped.

He was wearing black jeans that were definitely a size too small. They had obviously been washed many times, looking soft and faded. They hugged every line of his well-shaped legs. Above it, he wore a black silk T-shirt. The shirt wasn't very tight, but the slick fabric clung to him, shifting with every move he made, catching and reflecting the low light in the room like water. The stark black complimented his black-Irish looks; black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. I blinked, not sure what was going on here.

"I put some clothes out for you. Go change," he said, pointing to the door behind him.

"What?"

"Well, you can't go out dressed like that," he said patiently, indicating my suit and tie. "We're about the same size, so it should all fit."

I stood up and took a step towards the door, then paused. A stinging slap to my ass woke me up quickly. "Move!" he ordered.

I moved.

I couldn't resist taking a quick look around the room first. There wasn't much to see. A large bed with a cast-iron headboard dominated the room. Other than that, there were a couple dressers, and closet partially opened to show a couple suits and shirts hanging in neat rows. Actually, it was a hell of a lot neater than my own bedroom.

"Hurry it up, Jimmy," Steve called from the other room.

I jumped a little at the sound. For a moment I wondered what rabbit-hole I'd managed to fall down. I was beginning to feel a lot like Alice must have.

I pulled off my clothes, hanging them on a clotheshorse in the corner of the room so that they wouldn't get wrinkled. Steve had even left underwear out, so I shrugged my shoulders and tossed my boxers on top of the rest of my clothes. I might as well play along for the time being.

He'd left out boxer-briefs for me, and they felt a little weird when I pulled them on. I'd worn regular boxers for years, and pressure of the long briefs was a little disconcerting. I pulled on the white T-shirt, tight enough to be a second skin, then the blue jeans. Like the one Steve was wearing, they were well worn and a more than a little tight. I glanced over at a full-length mirror in the corner of the room and blushed a little. I might be proud of my body, but I'd never dressed to show it off like this. I brushed my fingers through my sandy brown hair, noting that I needed a haircut soon, and firmed up my posture before turning and heading for the living room.

There was something weird about the way the pants felt, though. Reaching behind me, I realized that there was a rip across the back, right below one ass cheek. The red of the boxer briefs would be showing through. Better that than skin, I told myself.

Steve was waiting for me. When I stopped in front of him, he waved for me to turn around. I did so, arms held out, then waited for him to comment. The whole thing was starting to get really surreal.

"Very nice," he said with a smile. "Let's go."

He picked up a slim wallet and managed somehow to squeeze it into his back pocket. I turned back towards the other room. "My wallet," I said.

"Don't bother. Tonight's my treat."

And with that, we were off and running.

First stop was a bar where he bought me my first drink of the night.

"Do you play pool?" he asked, heading for one of the tables. I trailed behind him carrying our drinks.

"Not since college," I admitted.

"Time for a refresher course, then."

I lost the first game badly, but was getting into the swing of things by mid-way through the second game. By the time we racked up for the third game I was on my second beer and starting to feel more relaxed than I'd been in months. Maybe Steve was right to drag me out of my office. Now if I could just figure out why he had done it.

I had sunk three balls and Steve had sunk four when he managed to sink the cue ball. I fished it out of the pocket it had ended up in and put it behind the line. I was rolling it back forth idly, trying to decide where to place it for my next shot, when Steve leaned over.

"Your stick's going to feel left out if you keep playing with your balls like that," he whispered in my ear, a wicked grin on his face.

I sputtered. He made it sound downright... sexual. I blushed, a quickly made my shot, sinking another ball. After that, though, there weren't any makeable shots for me. I did my best, then stood back.

Steve brushed against me as he moved in position. I probably had a dazed look on my face. Was he making a pass at me or something? And how did I feel about it? Besides confused, that is.

He didn't try to drag things out. Moving quickly and efficiently, he sunk the rest of his balls. I barely noticed, caught up in my thoughts the way I was. If he was putting the moves on me, I should probably decide what I was going to do before I had anything more to drink. The rational part of me said that it was a no-no. He worked for me, which would make it sexual harassment in a lot of eyes, even if he did initiate the whole thing. And he was a man, for God's sake.

A very handsome man with a great ass, the other part of me pointed out. And it wasn't like I hadn't thought about it in the past. I'd never tried it, though. Just a little play once in a while with the vibrator I kept hidden in a box under the bed. I wondered what it would be like to have the real thing, not a plastic toy, up there.

I gulped the rest of my beer, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar, so to speak. Steve sank the eight ball, then stood up grinning.

"Ready to go?" he asked, collecting the balls to return at the bar.

"Go where?" I asked suspiciously.

"Dancing, of course!"

Still a little dazed, I followed him out of the bar and into a cab, carried along by his enthusiasm. Suddenly, I grinned. If he did make a pass at me, I was going to say yes, I realized. In fact, I wanted him to. I even thought about suggesting we just go back to his place, but a little voice pointed out that I didn't really know what he wanted, and if he didn't want me, the suggestion could get me in trouble.

I was still arguing with my doubts when we arrived at the club. Steve dragged me along, inside and across the dance floor to the bar. He ordered a beer for me and a club soda for himself. I gulped at it gratefully, starting to feel more than a little buzzed, then turned to look out at the dance floor.

I blinked in surprise, realizing that I didn't see a single woman. Steve had brought me to a gay club. All my doubts disappeared, and I felt a thrill of anticipation run through me. It was obvious that I was being seduced, and I liked it.

After a moment, Steve put down his drink and yelled in my ear, "Time to dance, Jimmy."

"I--I--" I started to say, then wasn't sure what I was going to say. That I hadn't danced in years? That I'd never danced with a man? It didn't matter. Steve had my beer out of my hand and me on the dance floor before I could decide.

The beer I'd drunk combined with the pounding beat of the music and the movements of the other dancers to overcome any inhibitions I might have had left, and I was soon moving in sync with Steve and everyone else. The crush of bodies pushed us closer and closer until we were almost pressed together, chest to chest. I was really getting into it when Steve shouted in my ear, "So, are you having fun yet?"

I grinned back at him. "Yeah!" was all I managed before being swept away by the music again.

Sometime after midnight -- I'd lost track of time and my watch was back at Steve's apartment -- the beers caught up with me. Steve stayed at the bar while I made my way to the washroom.

The room was dark, lit only by black light bulbs that made the posters on the walls glow eerily. I stepped up to one of the urinals and pulled my cock out of my... Steve's pants. With a sigh of relief, I let go with a long whiz. Behind me, I could hear a strange thumping noise.

Then there was a groan, followed by a 'Fuck, yes!' and a 'Take it!' I almost choked as I realized that there were two guys having sex in one of the stalls. They had to know that I was there, but they obviously didn't care.

I shook off the last drops, then stood there with my cock still in my hand, listening to the sounds.

Over the dim, pulsating beat of the music outside the door, I could hear heavy breathing and dirty talk, punctuated by a moist, sucking sound. Suddenly the sucking stopped.

"Fuck me," a hoarse voice whispered.

"Turn around," another voice instructed. "Hands on the back wall. Spread 'em."

My cock started to grow in my hand, but I didn't move to put it away. I heard the sound of a wrapper being opened, followed by a slapping.

"You sure you want it?"

"Fuck, yes! Shove it in. Now!"

There was a pause. Then two voices shouted at the same moment. In my mind I could see what they were doing, and it made me hotter than hell. The whole evening had worked me up to a slow boil, and all I wanted was for Steve to take me home and fuck the living daylights out of me. It didn't matter why he was doing this, it didn't matter that I'd never done it before. I wanted to get fucked.

Realizing that any second now, some one was going to come in and find me standing here with a raging hardon in my hand, I stepped into the end stall, two down from the two men. I was never going to get my cock back into my pants like this, so I started pumping it, still listening to them. I bit my lip to keep from moaning out loud.

I could hear flesh slapping against flesh from the other stall. Obeying my own urges, I tugged the jeans and boxer briefs down around my thighs. One hand kept pulling at my cock while the other collected some of my pre-cum and reached behind me. Moving in the same rhythm as the pounding I could hear, I slipped a finger in my ass and started thrusting it in and out. After a moment, needing more, I slipped in a second. As the sounds sped up so did I, until my back arched and I splattered the back wall with my cum. Breathing heavily, I leaned against the door, feeling the slight stickiness left no doubt by others doing the same thing.

"Yessssssss!" I heard from the other stall, followed by a muffled shout. I grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned myself off. I pulled the briefs and jeans up, and tidied myself up.

I heard a stall door open, then the sound of the dance music got louder. I waited another minute, just to be safe, then slipped out myself.

I found Steve waiting at the bar. He gave me a quizzical look, then shouted, "You want another one?" gesturing towards the bar.

"No," I shouted back. "I've reached my limit." Inside, I was trying to figure out how to get him out of here. The jerk-off in the bathroom had just dampened the need, not extinguished it.

Steve looked at me closely, then grinned. "You want to go?"

"Yeah!"

It took nearly half an hour to get a cab to take us back to Steve's place. By the time we got there, I was practically vibrating. I knew I was buzzed, heading up the stairs not terribly steady. Didn't matter. I wasn't too drunk to know just what I wanted.

Steve locked the apartment door, then turned to me.

"You've got a choice, Jimmy," he said

"Yeah?"

"I can call you a cab to take you home."

"Or?"

"You can sleep on my couch, and I'll take you to get your car this afternoon." I blinked, then realized that is was almost morning.

"Or?" I asked, expectantly. I didn't want to make the first move, so he damned well better.

"Or?" he echoed. I grinned.

"Or."

He stepped in close. "Or I can take you to bed and fuck you silly."

"Or," I said happily, already feeling more than a little silly, and headed for the bedroom. Behind me, Steve laughed and came after me.

I had just started undoing my fly when arms came around my waist and grabbed my wrists. "My show, Jimmy-boy. You just hold still."

Shivering slightly at the husky tone, I let my hands fall to my side and pressed back against him. Steve let go of my wrists, and his hands moved up to my stomach. He started a slow undulation against my back, pressing his groin against my ass. My head dropped back onto his shoulder and I started breathing in deep gulps. I had never been this hot for anything or anyone in my life, and we were barely started. I felt like a teenager again.

My T-shirt was pulled out of the jeans and slowly inched up my body. Steve's hands slipped underneath the thin cotton fabric and his fingernails started tracing light patterns on my stomach muscles, just barely firm enough to keep from being ticklish. I gasped, and arched into his touch.

His rich chuckle rolled past my ear as his fingers moved higher. The pads of his thumbs rubbed in circles over my nipples, making them almost painfully erect. I shifted restlessly, wanting more, then stiffened as those nipples were caught between fingers and pinched hard, sending jolts through my body.

"Jeez!" I shouted.

Before I could recover, Steve pulled the T-shirt up over my head and tossed it in the corner. Then he was pressing against me again, and the slippery silk of his shirt was rubbing against my back.

Now his hands moved to the fly of the jeans. I'd gotten them half-open, and he completed the job. He slipped a hand inside and started stroking my cock through the fabric of the boxer briefs. The feel of pre-cum moistened cotton was almost unbearable rubbing against the sensitive head. I wriggled, and the jeans eased down over my hips and thighs, then dropped to the floor, binding my ankles together.

Steve was still rubbing against me as his fingers caught at the waistband of the briefs. Then he paused. "You sure about this, Jimmy?" he asked roughly. "If you want to back out, do it now. Those come down and that's it. You don't get out of here unfucked."

I couldn't seem to draw enough air to speak. Instead, I just moved my hands, grabbing the waistband and pushing the briefs down, almost pulling my own dick off in the process. I pushed them all the way down and struggled to kick them and the jeans off, along with my shoes and socks.

Steve just chuckled. "All right, I guess that's answer enough," he said.

As soon as I'd gotten rid of the rest of my clothes, his arms came around me again. The feel of denim against my ass and legs and silk against my back was intoxicating, and I rubbed against him, trying to increase the friction. Against my ass, I could feel that he was hard as a rock in his jeans.

"C'mon," I gasped as he ran his hands over my stomach and chest again. "I thought you were going to teach me how to have fun again."

"Oh, I will," he promised. "I will."

With that, a wild-man was unleashed. He spun me around and backed me up until I hit the bed. A hard shove knocked me onto my back, and he was on me instantly. The feel of him grinding against me had me read to cum, and he was still completely dressed.

I pushed at him, trying to hold him off for a moment. "Can't fuck me if you aren't naked," I pointed out breathlessly.

"Don't be so sure about that," he said with a leer. Then his mouth came down hard on mine, forcing it open. His tongue probed wetly, staking a claim on everything it found. When I tried to touch him, he grabbed my wrists.

"I told you," he muttered against my cheek. "My show."

Trapped under him, there was nothing I could do except take what he gave me. His weight pressed me into the mattress, and rough texture of his jeans against my cock made me scream.

He pulled away from my mouth, and thrust against me a little harder. "Cum for me, Jimmy-boy," he said harshly. "Cum for me now!"

By that point I was so close that all I could do was arch up against him and scream. I came harder than I could ever remember coming before.

When I'd calmed down a little, Steve was lying next to me. He'd opened the fly of his jeans, and his cock stuck out through it, an angry red color. It was clean and straight and the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen. I reached out to touch it, my mouth watering at the thought of getting to taste it, but he fended me off.

"Told you," he said. "You stay, you get fucked. Hands and knees."

Immediately, I rolled over and managed to get the required limbs underneath me and my ass in the air. I heard a drawer open, then a condom package was tossed on the bed next to me. I shuddered in anticipation, and my cock actually started to get hard again. It had been too damned long since it had been anything but my hand or my toys that got me off.

There was the sound of a flip-top opening, followed by a wet noise. Then a hand slapped against my ass and a finger shoved up it, too fast for me to tense up. I took a deep breath, and relaxed. The finger was followed by a second, as I was opened up.

Then a shiny hand reached over and grabbed the condom package. While he opened it and slipped the condom on, I wiggled my ass encouragingly. He slapped it again, and the sting just made me harder.

"All right, Jimmy-boy," I heard dimly. "Here it comes."

In an instant, he was balls-deep inside me, and I hollered. He was a hell of a lot bigger than my toy, and it hurt like hell. But he held still, and my ass gradually adjusted to the bulk of him. I could feel denim and silk against my back, and the metal of his zipper scrapped the flesh of my ass. Somehow, knowing that he was still completely dressed while he fucked me into next week just made it all hotter.

"Ready?" he gasped finally, and I was pleased that he sounded as affected by this as I was.

"Do it," I replied. "Fuck me. Teach me."

That was all it took. He immediately started a hard pounding that didn't take my inexperience into account. I didn't care. It was just too damn fucking good to care about any amount of pain, and soon there wasn't any.

The thrusts were so hard that I couldn't keep up. Soon I was flat on my stomach, alternating between humping the bedspread and trying to push back into his thrusts. It was hard. It was dirty.

It was glorious. He was chewing on my neck, then moving up to stick his tongue in my ear. His fingernails scraped down my sides, leaving trails of fire behind them. And through it all, the pounding continued relentlessly.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, Steve leaned back, pulling me up against his chest. His hand slid down and squeezed my balls. Hard. That was the last straw, and I jerked in his arms. There wasn't much juice left in me, but what there was splattered against the bedspread. Deep inside me, I could feel his cock jerking, and his bellow of triumph echoed in my ear.

Still linked together, we collapsed onto the mattress, and I quickly fell asleep.

We spent most of the weekend in bed. I finally got to taste Steve's gorgeous cock, and he even let me fuck him. I enjoyed it, but even better was having him inside of me. Didn't matter where: the shower, the kitchen, on the dining room table. He fucked me over just about every piece of furniture in his apartment. By the time he dropped me off at my car, late Sunday afternoon, I was feeling more relaxed than I'd been in years and ready to take on the world, even if I was having trouble sitting down.

By Monday morning, though, I was starting to get worried. How would I be able to be Steve's boss after what we'd been doing all weekend? And had it been a one-shot deal? I was still worrying about it when the team meeting rolled around, just before lunch.

I quickly realized that I didn't have to worry about the first question. Steve was all business, and so was I. Everyone reported on where they stood in the project, and what delays had cropped up. We were pretty much on schedule.

I did find myself sneaking glances at Steve, though. A small smile hovered on his lips every time he looked my way, but other than that, nothing. By the end of the meeting I was pretty much resigned to it having been a one-off, just a friendly gesture to his boss. I was a little disappointed, but philosophical about it. If nothing else, I had something new to spice up my fantasies with.

When the meeting was over, everyone left my office, heading for their desks. Everyone, that is, except Steve. He waited until we were the only ones left.

He stepped up to my desk, and I felt my blood start to flood to my groin. He leaned over my desk and took a long look at me.

"Looking good, but you still have a lot to learn," he said quietly. "Friday, six o'clock, lesson two."

He straightened up and left without saying anything else.

I stared at the door, a slow grin spreading across my face. The only thing concealing my erection from view was the desk.

I couldn't wait

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written by lee