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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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Darren
by kewtieboy (kewtieboy@hotmail.com)
***
A heterosexual male staff member at a bed and breakfast
starts to lightly tease his gay bosses. Only on his
final night does drink allow him to let them close.
(MM/M, voy, mast, oral, anal, alcohol, 1st-gay-expr)
***
Don’t let anyone tell you that owning bed and breakfast
style accommodation is easy! The trouble is, of course,
that you don’t need a lot of staff but you do need
help. As a gay couple running a straight business, we
usually like to balance ourselves with female part-time
help where we can. Generally this was always easy as
guys tended not to apply.
We had three staff, all part-time. One worked five days
a week, one three to four days and one at weekends.
This usually gave us two members of staff on the
busiest days. When the five day vacancy came up, in
amongst all the middle aged married women and part-time
students was Darren. He had an evening job in a bar and
thought our 9.00 am till 2.00 pm hours would slot
nicely in to augment his income.
He was 25 with dark hair and freckles. I assume the
hair had some red in it (and he later confirmed that
his facial and other hair was actually red). He was
plain rather than attractive, well built rather than
slim or fat, medium height and had a cheeky, rather
than polite personality. Basically, the sort of guy you
would probably walk past in the street and perhaps only
give a passing glance. He was as straight as they come,
talking about his love of football (soccer) and his
many girlfriends. In fact his pursuit and failure of
girls became the joke of many a Monday morning.
By now, you have probably guessed that we employed him.
He had an affable personality and was likeable though
he could talk faster than he worked. Within a few
weeks, we felt he had worked with us for ever. He would
push our limits frequently, walking in just in time to
start work, arguing when we asked him to do something
he didn’t want to and always leaving the difficult
chores to the end in the hope that they might be
carried over for someone else to do the following day.
We still liked him and his constant tales of "the girl
that got away" were quite amusing.
Whether Darren realised that he was working for a
couple of gays, I hadn’t any idea. He certainly didn’t
let on. We discovered he liked to smoke the odd joint
and his grumpy moods some mornings suggested he partook
on quite a regular basis. That along with ability to
sink 12 or 13 pints of beer on a guy’s night out, were
quite staggering. Certainly judging by the state of him
on the odd occasion when he went out with friends on a
work night, he must have looked like death the night
before.
He worked with us in total for about 18 months and
sometime about 9 months into the job a couple of things
happened. He started to arrive at work in his jeans
(which we forbad) and changed into his work trousers.
The reason given was that he liked to be in his jeans
for after work. Frequently he would stand around in his
tight boxer shorts as he changed and, we may not have
given him a second glance normally but he earned a few
more brownie points from that moment.
One day I noticed the seam on the side of his shorts
was split and mentioned it. He spent some time looking
at it as a little bit of his fly front opened and a
piece of flesh and red hair could be seen. An erotic
sight I can assure you. Thereafter he made sure we knew
every time he wore those shorts.
The second incident that turned me on was story he told
about being at a friend’s wedding and getting
absolutely blitzed falling asleep in a corner of the
hotel and then wakening late at night when the wedding
was over. It had been a formal highland dress wedding
so he had a kilt. He stumbled out and called a taxi to
try some pubs in the city centre and the next thing he
remembered was being wakened by a policeman who bundled
him home in a taxi. The thought of him lying with his
legs open, wearing a kilt with nothing underneath, gave
me cause for an erection from that moment on every time
he stripped to change trousers.
He would frequently tell us little stories how this
girl had sucked him off in the gents toilet in a pub,
or how he had smuggled another girl home (he stayed
with parents) and shagged her all night. I still could
not believe that he had not guessed our sexuality so
whether he was underlining his heterosexual status or
not, I don’t know. Certainly stripping to your
underwear in front of two gays every day is hardly a
sign of fear.
Well he announced that he was going to leave and do
some round the world travel. By this time, the two of
us had the hots for him. Whether or not it would have
been wise to do anything if the opportunity had arisen,
I don’t know. My partner and I agreed that it would
not, but an erect cock has its own mind!
We didn’t have time to organise a night out for him
before his final day, but brought the five of us
together the week after he left on a quiet Winter’s
night for a meal. I asked everyone to dress nicely for
the evening and the two girls looked very smart,
whereas we made sure we wore a collar and tie. Of
course I should have known Darren: he turned up wearing
his kilt! The excuse was that he wouldn’t get a chance
to wear it for a while if he was travelling the world.
Well we live in Scotland so the kilt was not out of
place and we had a great meal with a copious quantity
of wine. Afterwards, the youngest staff member went
home leaving Darren and the other girl whom Darren had
been trying to bed unsuccessfully as she already had a
boyfriend. She was a serious drinker too and as we
headed for another pub, his innuendoes were getting
pretty heavy. Drunk she may have been but she was
having none of it and by midnight, called it a day and
left.
"Fancy a drink back at the house, Darren," I asked in
all innocence.
"You lead," he slurred.
We got back home and he pulled off his jacket and tie,
opened the top button of his shirt and slumped on the
sofa. I gave him a wine. Thankfully I can hold wine
whereas, Darren pointed out that beer was his drink.
The three of us had at least another two bottles and by
this time his feet were up on the coffee table and his
legs open. I could just see his balls as I sat
opposite. Our hormones were firing off in all
directions as he talked, moving his legs around,
offering brief glimpses of flesh but none enough to
form an exact opinion of cock size. He commented on the
staff member and her unwillingness to "give out" as he
adjusted the front of his kilt.
We put a music channel on television and continued to
talk. He asked if he could smoke and I sent him out to
the garden where we joined him as he had a couple. I
was aware they were "roll your own." After that he
became very slurred and flopped back on the couch
saying something like, "I might have to stay" before
falling asleep. The two of us looked at him as his
breathing eventually changed to a rhythmic in and out.
After fifteen minutes or so, I tried to rouse him to
get a taxi. He wasn’t having any of it and just grunted
before slipping back to sleep.
I looked at my partner, the alcohol we had taken giving
Dutch courage, and walked over to him. I gently lifted
the corner of his kilt and slowly pulled it back and
up. This was done over five minutes or so. At last the
prize was in sight. His medium size, soft balls lay
between his legs, a three inch soft piece of cock flesh
lay on top and a patch of red hair above that. I had to
photograph it, if only for future wank sessions. After
taking some shots, I lifted the cock gently in my hands
as my partner watched and talked in worried tones. It
didn’t make a move and neither did he. I knelt between
his legs and gently placed the head and most of the
flesh in my mouth, squishing the softness around and
enjoying the aroma of male flesh. My partner couldn’t
hold on so came over and sat at my side, taking a few
more pictures then holding Darren’s weighty balls in
his hand as I sucked.
I felt it start to grow. It was very slow at first but
soon accelerated until I could no longer accommodate it
in my mouth and the length pushed its way out and up to
6.5 inches. I pulled back the skin revealing his pink
head and the two of us took a side each to lick it. We
each released our cocks and I knelt beside him and took
his hand to grip it round my stiff 7 inches. He
gripped. I started to push back and forward in his
hand. My partner did the same at the other side. The
view of him, legs open, kilt pulled back and cock
sticking straight up, hand on both our cocks, was
amazing. It didn’t last long before both his hands
dropped back down limply to the sofa.
"I want fucked by him," my partner exclaimed!
I ran upstairs while he stripped down and I grabbed a
condom and lube before running back down. My partner,
always ready for a fuck, lubed his hole while I
carefully pulled the rubber over Darren’s now pulsing
cock. With his back to the sleeping Darren, he lowered
his hole on to his cock and I gently guided it in.
Initially, my partner had to push up and down while
seated on the cock but he quickly realised that Darren
was meeting his thrusts. He then uttered a "Yes."
His hands came up, his eyes still closed, and he took
my partner’s hips to push and thrust his cock upwards
and into his hole. He suddenly rolled him and turned
him sideways to push further in right to the hilt in a
flurry of tartan and flesh. His eyes were still closed.
I flashed my camera and wanked my cock at this
wonderful sight till he grunted and hammered his cock
for the final five or six thrusts and emptied his balls
before crashing back on the sofa and falling into
sleep, the full condom dangling on the end of his cock
and a copious quantity of cum in the sac.
I pulled it off and emptied it on to the palm of my
hand to finish myself quickly. My partner realised he
had already cum just with the fucking. My load was
almost painful when it rushed up to meet the fresh air
forcefully and shot across to land on Darren’s thighs.
We both sat back and looked at him. He HAD been awake
and I am sure he knew what he was doing. Whether he had
wanted it too and the drink and hash had allowed his
guard to drop, I don’t know. Anyway, he was in no fit
state to go home. We shook him awake and managed to get
him to stumble to the toilet where I had the pleasure
of holding his cock while he pissed. I removed his kilt
and placed him on the sofa with a blanket before we
retired.
We were both up before him in the morning and he was
still happily snoozing away when we got to the lounge.
We woke him (apprehensively) and he grumpily came to
his senses.
"I didn’t make it home then," he said, stating the
obvious.
"Nope," I replied. "Want some breakfast?"
"Great, can I shower," he asked?
Off he went. We cooked a few bacon sandwiches and he
came down and ate them hungrily.
As he left, he hugged us both and said, "Thanks for a
great night, I really enjoyed it," and left with the
promise to contact us when he returned.
He did contact us a few times with promises to pop in
and see us but hasn’t yet. Scared of what he might do
or just forgotten what he did – I don’t know, but he’s
always welcome to come round for a drink... or two!
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 42