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After The Holiday Party

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 01 May 1999 1 comments
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The other night we had our annual holiday office party. It was held at a popular Chelsea restaurant here in New York City. There was plenty of food, drink and great music. A small dance floor helped my associates let their hair down. After a couple of hours everyone was dancing together - girls with boys, girls with girls and boys with boys - it's a very liberated environment. All the while I'd been keeping my eye on one of the waiters. He's about 5'10" or 5'11", just a little taller than me and obviously spends a lot of time in the gym. I could see some big triceps action under his shirt as he toted his tray of hors d'oeuvres around the room. He has a light brown buzz-cut, goatee and looks really hot in his tight black trousers and black bow tie. Early in the evening I noticed a glint in his eye when he offered his tray to me. Granted, I was not the only man he had his eye on but men come and go, don't they? The waiter and I stuck it out to the bitter end. Several of my associates and I were standing around chatting near the coat-check and I could see my waiter hanging around the periphery. I felt something like a pickpocket, swung around and found him putting something into my back pocket with a smile and a wink. Nobody else noticed him. When I got into the taxi the first thing I did was feel around in my pocket for my surprise. I pulled out a cocktail napkin with his name and phone number written on it. Mike. The next morning was Saturday. I didn't lose any time dialing Mike's number. As luck would have it, he's an early riser, too. At about 7:30 he was lying in his bed with his fist around his dick and wondered if I wanted to do phone stuff or come over to his apartment and help him out. Throwing on a pair of jeans and my coat, I flew from the house and jumped into my car. Minutes later I rang his doorbell. Mike opened the door sporting a tent in his boxers. He beckoned me inside and closed the door behind us. He didn't waste any time. Unzipping my coat he pressed his hard cock against the front of my jeans. The guy is a lot cuter than I remembered. His arms are bigger and stronger than I could tell on Friday night. He held me around the waist and smiled when my hands did a little exploring around his chest and abs. Mike was glad that I was enjoying his body. The head of his prick broke free from the fly of his shorts and tarted to grind against my naked stomach. He was well on his way into a long stroke session - glazed eyes, lids half way shut. "C'mon", were the only words spoken that morning. He took me by the hand and led me up the stairs into a sleeping loft. We were out of the rest of our clothes lickity-split. The loft was dark and warm. It smelled of Mike. He pulled me down onto the mattress next to him and started kissing rather diligently. Doesn't take me long. I was working his nips in an instant. One of my hands was on his chest and the other was fondling his balls. We were two animals in rut. Ya' know when your partner is way ahead of you and the saliva is flowing freely and his cock is very persistently grinding against your crotch? It was hot. The man was almost growling. I wanted to slow him down and enjoy it for a while so I rolled onto my back and wrapped my arm around his shoulders. Mike continued to rub his dick against the left side of my body. I grasped the thing with my right hand and gave it a few light squeezes. My left hand stroked the left side of his torso with a butterfly touch and glanced over his nip lightly. He rolled onto his back and spread his legs, submitting to my manipulation. He put his hands behind his head and maneuvered his body into a comfortable position. He was ready for servicing. "Lube", I thought. "Where could the lube be?" I rolled away from Mike momentarily and found an open jar of white, creamy stuff on the floor next to the bed. I scooped some up with my right hand and rubbed my palms together to distribute the stuff. I rolled back to him and wrapped my greasy right hand around the shaft of his 8" cock. I started stroking slowly up and down alternately using a firm and a loose grip. Sometimes I just used my thumb and forefinger stroking from the base of the shaft and, stopping at the corona, giving a couple of feathery twists. Mike's legs were stiff and scissoring and when I could sense he was about to cum I stopped and fingered his balls or his nips for a while. Then I started all over again. I kept this up for about an hour - an hour that started to seem like an eternity. All the while I was matching strokes on my own stiff 7 1/2 inch dick. We were both ready to blow. I shifted my position and got on my knees, straddling his thighs. Tightening my grip on both cocks I nodded my head, indicating that it was time. Mike was ready - he'd been at it since before my call. His dick was as hard as a nail and in less than a minute I heard a sharp intake of air through his teeth. His back arched, his bucking dick stood up straight in my fist and began spewing his sperm out of the tip of his engorged cock head. One, two, three arching spurts splattered on the pillow, his face, his chest and belly. More came and ran down his shaft over my fist into the bush of pubic hair at the base of his shaft. I dropped down on my elbows and began rubbing my stiff prick and balls against his slimy stomach. We started kissing almost carnivorously. It didn't take long before my cock started spewing its load all over his stomach. The spasms were intense and my load was larger than any I'd ever had while alone. Never did it with Mike again. Guess it was just one of those things.