We currently have stories with more being added every day

BANK JACK

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 06 Sep 2000 1 comments
0 likes views Category: Sex Stories Male Gay Tags:

by gerald 27@ireland Some years ago, on the advice of a friend, I rented a safety deposit box to hold my will and other important papers. When I first brought my papers to the bank to put them into the box, the bank manager put me into a small locked rooms so that I could conduct my business in private. It took only a minute or two to store everything in the box and I was just about ready to leave when it dawned on me that it would be great fun to jack off. There was something appealing about dropping my pants and pumping my cock in that little enclosed room inside that crowded and busy bank. So I did. It was exciting enough that I came in about two minutes, shooting off into one of the bank�s deposit envelope. It quickly became standard practice. I would pick up and carry that safety deposit box into the larger box-like room, complete my banking business then get down to business. The little room was a pleasant enough place, immaculately clean larger and more comfortable and more private than a toilet stall. One rooms had a blind that permitted me to look out at the comings and goings of bank customers as I jacked my cock and shot my load into some Kleenex provided free of charge by the bank. I developed a regular ritual. After I had finished my banking I would strip naked and work my piece with a lubricant that I stored in the safety deposit box. I was always careful to make sure that the door was securely locked and I doubled check that I left the rooms as clean as I found it, taking with me all the telltale signs of cum and lubricant. Then one day, right in the middle of particularly satisfying session I heard a noise to my left and turned my head to see one of the bank employees standing in the open door. He was the tall good looking man, who had often gotten my box for me and let me into the room. I had noticed earlier his white shirt and suit trousers coved a lean and muscular body. His rolled up shirt sleeves revealed tanned and muscular forearms. His hands square and large. Just before he had entered the room, I had been fantasizing what it would be like if those strong brown hands- rather than my own - had been cupping my balls and stroking my cock. Now here he was, the object of my fantasy. I had no idea on how he had gotten into my cubical or what he was doing there. But there could be no doubt in his mind on what I was doing. I was buck naked, slouched down in the chair, my feet and hairy legs propped up on the desk counter, my cock - covered with lube and precum - in my right hand, my left hand cradling my balls. He put a finger to his lips to bid me to be quite, shut the door and in one quick step was at my side. He bent down and rubbed his face against my right cheek then clamped his mouth on mind At the some time he replaced my hands with his own. He had a strong but gentle touch and that ability which some men have to use all five fingers to massage the whole cock like a vibrator. While he did this with one hand, he gently slipped a finger of the other hand down to that small shiny spot just behind my scrotum, rubbed it a bit then stuck one long warm finger up into my ass. That was enough for me. I started to shoot a long string of cum up into the air. He aimed me so that my load would land on my stomach and chest then milked my dry until it hurt. He then rubbed his index finger into a my cum, tasted it, gave my cock a farewell twist, smiled and turned to leave Before he left he cleaned his hands on my t-shirt, hanging with my other clothes on the coat hook by the door. I sat there for a minute half-stunned then jumped up to check the door. It was locked. I cleaned up as usual, dressed and hart pounding I carried my box into the lobby and looked for him. I was planning to thank him and offer to return the favor but he was not there. I came back to the bank three times in the next two weeks looking for him but I never saw him again. When I checked with one of the tellers, she told me that he had been transferred to another branch. She did not know which one. I never thought to ask his name. I never saw him again. I have often replayed that incident in my mind. * Had I left the door open and had he just wondered in by chance? I do not think so I am not that lucky and I always double checked the door. *Had he deduced what I was doing and used a pass key to come in and give me a hand? Could be. Perhaps he had notice on previous visits that I always left with a smaller package. Or perhaps he had gotten a whiff of the telltale order of cum when checking me out. Maybe there was a hidden camera in the room. But how did he unlock and relock the door without me hearing it? Or was it just a fantasy? This seems to be the most likely explanation. Most of my friends with whom I have shared this story think I just imagined it. But it it was just a fantasy how can you explain the slight whisker burns that was on the right cheek of my face and those damp sots on my t-shirt that smelled so much like my on cum? It has been five years since it happen and I had given up hope of every knowing if it was real or an extremely vivid fantasy. UNTIL NOW. This guy - if he was real - was an experienced jacker - just the type of man who might visit your site. Or he may have told another guy about it who is one of your visitors. Or he might have provided such full banking service to some another man who visits your site. ClubStroke may give me the answer.