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I had been married for about seven years when I met Bernie.
I was running a small-town grocery store, not too strenuous a job but enough to keep beans on the table for the wife and the kids. My employees were mostly middle-aged women, who ran the deli counter and the produce aisle and the checkout lanes, with a few pimply stock boys still in high school to help out with the heavy stuff. I'd been working there quite awhile, too, long enough that it was definitely beginning to get to me. I had to be there to personally inspect each delivery, I had to be the one to handle all the books and paperwork and banking, and I had to supply most of the muscle when there was a big job that needed doing. I had actually begun to think about just quitting the whole thing, and trying something else, but my wife talked me into hiring someone to take some of the burden off me before I did anything so drastic.
The help-wanted sign had hardly been in the window for a full hour when Bernie came to me with it in his hand. He was a little on the short side, about five foot nine inches, but obviously muscular and well built. He seemed pretty clean-cut, which I liked, and when he said, "What kind of help are you looking for?" and I gruffly told him, "Someone to work hard and do some of the shitty jobs around here," he just grinned and shook my hand. I liked that a lot.
So I gave him the job right on the spot, told him I'd be watching him like a hawk and so not to screw up, and set him to work organizing the stock room. He did a great job at it, just like everything else I set him to. He moved the shelving around, so that the aisles were wider; he cleaned the stains out of the old Formica produce bins; he unloaded the trucks and stocked the shelves faster than any high-school kid could dream of. In short, he was the ideal employee.
So then one night, in the sweltering middle of summer, a water pipe in the ceiling of my office burst, and doused all of my most important paper financial records with water. Most of them were backed up on the computer, but some were older than our computer records, and had to be salvaged if at all possible. And that was how I found myself in the store at midnight; grimly unwrinkling soaked papers and trying to dry them as flat as possible.
I was working away when I heard a noise in the back. I hadn't thought that anyone was still in the store (we closed at ten), so I grabbed my flashlight and went back to see. I found the stockroom fully lit, so I switched off the flashlight and peered through the foggy plastic window to see if anyone was there. And what did I see? None other than my newest employee, Bernie, unpacking the latest truckload of stock to get it ready to be put on the shelves the next day. And, as if that wasn't enough, he was working in the sweltering 95 heat in only a jockstrap.
My jaw practically dropped to the floor. I had known that Bernie was well built and attractive, but I had no idea that he was hiding such perfection under his generic jeans and t-shirt. Every muscle in his body was clearly and neatly defined under his porcelain skin, without a blemish or a hair in sight. Chest, arms, legs, and ass, all were as completely bare as a toddler's. When he bent down to reach into a crate with his back to me, I was treated to the sight of his asscrack, as bare as the rest of him, and his tight pink hole clenching reflexively as he lifted the boxes out of the crate. I could also see a feathering of reddish hair around the edges of his balls; it was then that I realized that his hairlessness must be natural, rather than the result of shaving.
Without even thinking, I pushed the door open and went into the stockroom.
"Bernie," I said sternly, "What are you doing here at this hour?"
He whirled around and stared at me in sheepish shock. It took him a full minute to recover enough from the embarrassment of being busted at work bare-ass just to speak.
"Uh. sorry, boss," he said lamely. "I just wanted to get a jump start on tomorrow, you know Saturday's always such a busy day.." He trailed off as he saw me staring at his almost-naked body. "It was just so hot in here." he added, and then flapped his hands exasperatedly. "I didn't think anybody was coming in tonight!"
His embarrassment forced me to laugh. "Oh, it's okay," I told him, "but you're right, it is so hot in here. TOO frickin' hot for you to be busting your ass in here." I winked at him coyly. "That ass already has a pretty nice crack in it," I told him, "and I'd hate to see you break it altogether."
He laughed at that, mostly from relief that I wasn't going to fire him.
"Come on," I continued, "Come up to my office, and you can help me sort out my wet papers. It's a lot cooler up there, with the air conditioning."
He shrugged. "Uh. sure, boss." I turned and went back to my office, with Bernie following right behind me.
He helped me to clear away the papers, still in just his jock, and then took the seat that I offered him (I couldn't help but smile, thinking of all the vendors and salesmen who sat in the chair on a weekly basis, right where Bernie's bare ass now rested). We each had a can of Coke, and I asked Bernie to tell me a bit more about himself.
To my surprise, he seemed hesitant to offer any more than the most generic details about his life. I pried a bit harder with my questions (did he have a girlfriend? What was his dream career? What did he like to do in his free time?), and at first got nowhere - but at the same time, I could see Bernie measuring me with his eyes, trying to decide what kind of person I was before he opened up to me.
Finally, he relented and said, "Well, Mr. George, you do know I' m gay, don't you?"
Well, now, that one knocked me back a bit. I mean, he was just such a handsome, clean-cut youngster, that I had expected him to be a young republican.
"Can't say as I did," I allowed, but he went on before I was even finished speaking.
He had known it all his life, he said, but he'd always been afraid to act on it or tell anyone. Until the year before, when he'd turned twenty-one, and had been working on a construction site. There were two other men who worked there, and they were always teasing him; but the teasing seemed good-natured to him somehow, despite the fact that it was always sexual. The two men would say things like, "You may have a pretty girlfriend, but I've got Bernie's pretty ass to keep my pecker warm," or "We were just out back letting Bernie suck our dicks," stuff like that. The trouble was, it was getting Bernie rather turned on whenever the teasing occurred. Finally, when one of them had grabbed his crotch (again, in a teasing way), and poor Bernie had gotten so worked up that he'd slunk off to a port-a-john and beat off. The two men had followed him, and heard him through the thin plastic walls; they had then burst in on him, and forced themselves on him.
I sat mesmerized as he told me how they'd made him suck their cocks, and then they'd fucked him, despite the fact that he hadn't wanted either. It had been a turn on when it was just teasing, and it seemed like they might be up for a bit of consensual fun, but when they'd jumped him, he 'd gotten scared, and what had followed had basically been a rape. As if that hadn't been bad enough, they'd then gone to the site foreman, and they' d both sworn that Bernie had "come on" to both of them. They insisted that they would quit if Bernie wasn't fired. The foreman hadn't even needed that much encouragement, and Bernie was immediately without a job. His boss also called his family, and informed them why he was terminating Bernie. So, when he got home from his former job, he found that he didn't have a place to live, either. His family disowned him, just like that.
"So I moved to someplace where nobody knew me," he told me with a shrug. "And when I didn't like it there, I moved again. And again, until I wound up here." Looking me directly in the eye, he said, "Are you gonna fire me now, too, Mr. George?"
I looked down at my desk for a moment before answering. Here I was, thirty-five years old, a wife, four kids, an overpriced house, a shitty job. and a sudden raging hard-on for Bernie. I could barely believe how much I wanted to wrap my arms around his perfect body and make love to him. I had never felt anything quite like this before, not even for my wife.
I looked up at Bernie, and stared right back into his deep brown eyes. "Bernie," I said huskily, "I could never fire somebody after hearing a story like that. You're so-" I found my eyes wandering down the smoothly muscled ripples of his torso to rest on his crotch, unable to stop myself. "So-" I actually found myself moving to touch him, and stopped, though my eyes found their way back to his.
"Bernie-" I had to stop and clear my throat. "Bernie, I don't know what to say. You're such a handsome young man, and just hearing what you've been through and how brave you are in spite of it. I feel like I need to be honest with you. No, I would never fire you for that, but you may decide to quit."
"Quit?" he said softly. "Why?"
"Because I guess I'm just like those two men you just told me about," I said. "I want you, just the way they did."
"You.. want me?" He seemed to be having a hard time with what I was saying. "But why? You're married, you have a family-"
"And I love them," I said, "But right now, there's just nothing more that I want than to make love to you."
Bernie didn't say another word. He got up, and came around the desk. He sank to his knees in front of me, and put his arms around me, resting his head on my chest. I reached up and ruffled his auburn hair, unable to believe that this was happening to me. He looked up to meet my eyes when I did that, and then leaned forward and kissed me.
The next few minutes were a blur of kissing mouths and tugging hands. Bernie somehow managed to pull me out of my clothes, and together we stumbled over to the ratty little couch where I entertained the occasional salesman or produce vendor. Bernie's cock was like a rod of steel against my thigh; I was struck over and over again how perfect his body was, and how well it fit against mine even though I was taller. His skin was so smooth against mine, hairless where mine was hairy, fair and white where mine was dark tan. When we reached the couch, I pushed him down and seized his cock, directing it right into my mouth. I'd never sucked a dick before, but I loved his; it was salty with sweat, but perfectly clean and healthy tasting. His cock was beautifully formed, not as big as mine but not in any way ugly like mine, either. The head was sculpted with a flaring rim, like a crown on the proud pillar of his shaft, and tight and shiny hard. I kept taking it out of my mouth to look at it, and then greedily stuffing it back in again.
Bernie put up with this for a while, and then he urged me down onto the couch and took over. With me lying flat on my back and my dick sticking up like a fencepost, he threw one well muscled leg over my body (god, what great calves he had! And thighs! And that ass..) and gently lowered his ass onto my crotch, cradling my cock in his ass-crack like a hot dog in a bun. He leaned over to the desk, and snagged the leaking bottle of hand lotion that someone had brought in off the shelves. Reaching back behind us, I felt him pour a generous stream of lotion onto my cock and his crack, while at the same time he held a finger on the other hand against my lips to keep me quiet. He then dropped the lotion bottle and seized my dick, rubbing my cockhead up and down his crack till I thought I'd come right there, without even putting it in him.
He must have sensed that I was coming close, because he pressed my cockhead into the ring of his asshole, and began squirming his ass around in a circular motion, literally screwing my cock into his ass. I felt the head slip in past the tight ring of muscle that guarded his bung; then, he leaned back with a tremendous sigh, and took me all the way up inside.
I'd like to be able to report that I fucked him all night like a champion racehorse. Alas, it isn't so. I managed to last maybe ten minutes, and then shot my load so hard it actually hurt my prick. I was still grinding my shaft in his ass when I felt something warm and wet land on my stomach; I opened my eyes, and saw that Bernie had come as I fucked him, shooting his seed all over my stomach and chest.
I reached down and dabbled my finger in his spunk, and then tasted it. I liked the taste; I liked everything about fucking Bernie, and actually found myself wondering what it might be like to return the favor.
"Bernie," I sighed.
"Yes?" He lay down on top of me, and rested his head on my chest again.
"Bernie, I think YOU just earned yourself a raise," I told him, and hugged him tightly against me.
Bernie still works for me in my store, but I feel a lot better about my job now that he's been promoted to assistant manager. He's picked up a lot of the slack, but there's still enough hard work around the place to guarantee that we have to spend a couple evenings a week putting in some heavy overtime.

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