I absent-mindedly stroked the inside of Dinsayer’s thigh as I thought to myself. Honest, I didn’t think about it, I just had my hand there and was too busy with my own thoughts to notice what I was doing. If I’d put my hand on a table, I would have been drumming. As it was, I was stroking, small, gentle strokes up and down his thigh while I thought furiously. What was I going to do?
As I mused on, my movements became stronger, faster, harder. First time I realized the effect it was having on my boss was when my hand went up higher than usual...and I bumped his cock. It was hard but still sort of down one leg, I felt the stiff nub of the cockhead and a bit of the shaft, before the sensations sorted themselves out and I realized.
“Sorry.” I said, taking my hand away. “Didn’t realize what I was doing.”
“I know.” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
He reached down with one greasy hand and adjusted his cock, pulled it around to the upright position. Now it was an angled shaft, like the muzzle of a cannon, aiming toward his stomach.
What did I want to do? I wanted to stay here with Dinsayer. I wanted to keep on working on these cars, these beautiful clean cars, with the oil and the grime. A car never presents you with a problem that you can’t figure out and solve. That’s how cars are different from women, and why some men prefer them over women.
People like Dinsayer.
“I know what I want to do.” I said softly as my hand went back up and cupped his turgid rod. My hand felt out its length, gave it a gentle squeeze, held it.
Dinsayer was quiet...no, not quite. He was making soft, comfortable sounds as I massaged his tool there in the quiet, cool interior of the garage. I just could hear him, little almost-breathlike sounds as I rubbed and pressed, squeezed and flexed.
My fingers found his zipper and it made a cool whispering sound as I pulled it down, the rasp riding up over the thick dong lying underneath, the white cloth of his briefs sliding out into view like the interior pale flesh of a banana as you peel it. I could see the whiter line of the flap and my hand slid into that joining of cotton, found his warmth and his desire, it burned and seethed in my hand, and I brought it out into the air and it stood as a dark, proud pole, urging me to take it, more, more!
I grasped it and pulled on it, and Dinsayer still stayed silent, still only little sounds of delight and comfort escaped from his lips. This was all like some understanding that we had, like we wouldn’t talk about it, but we would do it, and he wouldn’t tell and I wouldn’t tell and it could be our secret and bind us together even closer, here in our garage, our domain, our bond growing in this way, the car, the tools, the grease, and the two of us, a totally male environment, not a case of women not allowed as it was women would never share this universe of ours, not even when they stood among us.
My hand was sliding up and down on his long, firm prick, enjoying and reveling in the thickness and the size and the...masculinity of it. Dinsayer’s hands came down and I thought that he would push my hand away, but he only undid his belt and fastening at the top of his pants, then his hands slid up in a luxurious caress of his own body, pulling up the shirt to leave this midsection of his bare, freeing it for my attentions. And still, nothing was said between us, nothing needed to be said.
I leaned over and my tongue touched the tip of his glans, and he moaned, now a real sound, just a long “oooooo” that oozed up from his very heart and lingered on his tongue, flowing like molasses out of his mouth into the warmth of our intimacy.
I ran my tongue around the tip in a small circle and his slit rewarded me with a salty clear pearl of precome, I tasted it, and it was concentrated man, it was Dinsayer and his garage and his cars and his tools and his skill, pouring out to me, saying take me, take all of me, it is yours, all yours.
And I did, I lowered my head onto his dong, my lips dressed his cock in warm saliva that poured unbidden from my tastebuds, I was savoring this man, loving the quivering strength that was him, lying there, letting me take what I would from him, not fighting, not helping, not protesting, not begging for more, merely being himself and that was enough and more, for it was all I ever wanted from life, all of it, all!
So I took his power and his strength and his life into my mouth, felt it pulsing there within me and I gripped my lips tightly about the bottom and I pulled up, raising my head slowly, gripping the dong, feeling the rich velvet of his foreskin flowing serenely out of my mouth as I pulled up, releasing its portion of joy into the strong man it belonged to, and again I received that long “oooooooo” from him.
I began to nurse him gently, my mouth making long, slow strokes upon his prong, milking this pillar of manhood and receiving the pungent payment of his flowing passion-seed as it gushed from his depths and out of the slit at the top, there to rest and boil upon my tongue.
There was no rush to this joining of employer and employee, no urgency to the formation of the new bond we now shared, the new closeness we enjoyed, and in silent sharing of our bodies, my mouth and his cock, we forged the new union.
But his passion built ever higher within him, now he was gurgling softly in his rising desire, his chest was rising and falling in undulations of pleasure, he was prostrate before me and he was displayed for my attentions and affections, and now I reached up with my hands to feel this powerful body, my hands snaked under the shirt and felt the strength of the chest now bellowing and blowing in the excitement of intercourse, and his hands, his strong, soft, grease-stained, warm hands, came down to clasp my head, his hips began to thrust his lower body upwards into me, he was getting lost in his passion, wrapped up in his delight, he was forgetting everything now but that he was a man and he was receiving pleasure, and I fell into that delicious delirium, I was a part of him and the part giving him pleasure as much as his cock, I felt his rising need as though it were my own, and his hands, as they began to control my movements, were only proper in their actions, not impetuous or unwelcomed at all, I was freed rather, able to turn all my attentions to gripping this bubbling, surging, straining prick, I could feel how it boiled within, how the ripe seed begged to be free, how they swelled and pushed the balls up against the heavy shaft, how the blood within heated to express its need, declare its necessity and its purpose, to burst out into the space outside the body which had been its universe heretofore, to spread and promulgate itself in the world, duplicate, propagate, procreate and proliferate, until the very world became a part of it, absorbed into this, the ultimate perfection that was man, man and cars, man and metal, man and man, one forever.