How the Cook Changed Me Ch. 01

Chapter 1. Caught!

Like many guys when I was a teenager I experimented sexually with another male. I wasn't gay - I liked girls and straight porn - but somehow my best friend Danny and I started "playing around." How that started is a whole 'nother story. At first we masturbated together, then progressed to fondling each other. And on four occasions I ventured far enough to actually lick his penis, something Danny had never done to me. I justified what we did by saying that we were just horny guys and that there were no girls around. I played with his cock so that he'd reciprocate and play with mine. Quid pro quo.

We worked in the same diner as dishwashers/busboys, and one night after the dinner rush we were bored. Danny had brought a Oui magazine and we snuck down to the basement, a dimly lit area with shelves of supplies. It was a safe space since people rarely came down here, and we moved to a corner hidden behind the shelving units.

A few minutes of looking at the pictures gave us both hard-ons. At first we rubbed ourselves through our pants, but then Danny lifted his apron and unsnapped his pants. He reached into the open flaps and rubbed himself through his underwear. When he saw me eying him he asked: "Do you want to...?" Knowing what meant, I shrugged and knelt down on the hard floor. As he returned his attention to the magazine, he lowered his underwear and his teenage penis flopped out. I spit into my hand for lube, then began stroking the base. With my other hand I teased the tip of his penis. I did the things I knew I wanted done to mine.

"Do you know what would really feel good?" he asked.

I really didn't want to, but yet for some reason I agreed to do what I knew he was asking for. And so, for the fifth time in my life, I found myself licking his cock. I wasn't turned on by this; I was just anticipating how good it would feel when he would jerk me off.

And then a male voice shouted. "What in God's name?"

Caught! It was the night shift cook, Carlos, a slim, religious Puerto Rican in his forties. He looked at Danny, then at me, and shook his head in disgust. I was instantly overcome with embarrassment and shame. And fear - what would happen to us? Carlos folded his arm and in a stern voice ordered us to get back to work. "Both of you perverts." I stood up while Danny fixed his pants, then we rushed past Carlos without looking at him.

Two awkward hours passed till quitting time. I was worried that Carlos would tell the owner or, worse, call my parents. I kept looking at the clock, waiting for Danny's mom to come to pick us up (neither of us had our own car). She pulled into the parking lot at 11:55.

If I thought I was escaping Carlos, I was wrong, because Carlos came into the back room and pointed at me. "I need to you to stay an extra half hour." When I tried to protest he said, "I'll drive you home. You're on my way." I looked at Danny for help but he was as scared as I was, especially with his mother outside. He made a quick exit, whispering "good luck" as he slipped out the door.

There was no need for me to stay late. The task Carlos gave me - rearranging the shelves in the walk-in cooler - was just busy work, and I spent the time lost in thought and worry. I guessed that since I was the one on his knees Carlos assumed I was the problem, or at least more of a problem than Danny was. That's why I was the one getting punished.

I punched out at 12:30. Ten minutes later Carlos finished in the kitchen and came in the back, not smiling. He punched his time card and in silence led me outside.

His car was a roomy Buick, with a religious statue on the dash and a pine tree air freshener on the rear mirror. He started the car and turned on the cassette deck. Latin music played softly. I stared at the dashboard statue - Jesus with arms outstretched. Knowing Carlos's religious streak I expected a sermon about the fury of God and the fires of hell that awaited me, but he said nothing as we pulled out of the driveway. To avert his gaze I stared out my window.

Instead of turning where Danny's mother usually did, he drove further up. I wanted to say something but fear kept me silent. We turned off the main road, drove a few blocks, then turned onto a quiet street. Soon he pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned factory. I was too nervous to ask what he was doing, but now suspected what he had in mind, especially when he parked the car out of sight from the street. He turned off the headlights and lowered the power windows (his and mine). Then he undid his seat belt and moved his seat back away from the steering wheel. When he killed the ignition we sat there, illuminated by the three-quarter moon. The only sound came from whatever insects where chirping in the nearby woods. He looked over at me and waited.

By now my fear had mutated into nervousness. I watched him his legs, and so of course I knew what he wanted. What he expected. Was I ready to do this? I did a bit of rationalizing: Was this any different than what I did with Danny? Was this my punishment for getting caught? Would this keep Carlos from telling other people? I could have stayed there thinking for hours, but Carlos broke the silence. "Well?"

That's it. All he did was sit there and say, "Well?"

But that was my cue. I undid my seatbelt, mustered some courage, and slowly leaned into his lap. I rested my right wrist on his leg and placed my left hand firmly on his inner thigh. I had rubbed Danny through his pants before; now I rubbed Carlos through the smooth fabric of his trousers, my hand over the bulge between his legs. I squeezed him, then moved my hand up and down. I felt him getting harder, his bulge growing. I wondered about his penis: How big was it? How different was it was from mine? How did he cum?

A moment later he sucked in his stomach, then undid the pants clasp. He waited for me to unzip his fly, which I did. It felt strange undoing another person's pants (Danny and I never undressed each other) and it took me clumsy seconds to accomplish it. As I pulled open the flaps of his pants I saw his red underwear. Another first - Danny and I wore regular boys white underpants, not sexy underwear like Carlos. Then, knowing what feels good, I massaged him with my palm, rubbing him firmly through his underwear. He was obviously 'fuller' than Danny or I, and his bulge enlarged as I rubbed him. After I heard him let out a soft 'mmmm' I opened the flap of his pants further. I liked the feel of his underwear - softer and silkier than what I was used to. Sexier too.

I continued squeezing and massaging him, until he asked: "Have you ever touched a man before?"

I shook my head, not wanting to speak.

"But you like doing this, don't you?" Was that a question or was he subliminally telling me that I enjoyed doing this?

I just shrugged, unsure of what I did or didn't enjoy. And when he asked me, "You want to take it out, don't you?" was he coaxing me or reading my mind? In any event I reached for the waistband of his underwear and tugged it over his cock, freeing it. And there it was: my first close-up at a man's cock. At first I was afraid to touch it so I just stared at it, examining it. It was different from the 18-year-old cocks of Danny and I. Ours were thin and smooth, bone white; Carlos's was thick, almost fat, and he had so much more pubic hair than us.

I ran my fingers down the length of it, causing it to twitch. Then I wrapped my fingers around it, gripping it firmly. My hands, soft from washing dishes all night, began to stroke him, slowly at first, but then increasing the speed. I sensed that he was enjoying this, that I was doing a good job. And to be honest, I was enjoying this, too. I don't know why but I enjoyed satisfying him.

Uncomfortable with his underwear tucked below his testicles, he nudged me aside so he could lower his pants and underwear midway down his thighs. Then he guided me back into his lap. The stroking resumed. When he said, "Use your other hand, too," I used my free hand to cup his testicles. I was doing to him what I knew felt good to myself.

So there I was, hunched over the hump between the seats, stroking him, staring at his cock. My own penis had firmed up - this was turning me on, more so than when Danny and I played around. But why was this different? Was it because Carlos was an older man? Was this more like 'real sex' than 'playing around'? Was this 'dirtier' or 'sexier'? I didn't know the answer to those questions, I just knew that my cock was rock hard.

Finally, he said this: "Go ahead... You know what you want to do." When I didn't respond, he added: "Take it in your mouth. Just like you did to your friend."

I looked up at him, unsure, afraid. He just calmly nodded, and placed his hand on the back of my head to guide me lower. Soon my mouth mouth was just inches from his cock. I breathed in a deep, manly scent of musk and sweat. I must have hesitated for too long, because I felt pressure on the back of my head. He pushed me lower until my lips touched the tip of his cock, and when he said, "Open your lips," I did, and before I knew it his cock slid into my mouth.

I freaked out at first, and after moving my head up and down a few times, I stopped sucking. Again he nudged the back of my head. Moving back to his cock, I stuck my tongue out and licked down the base, and then back up. There wasn't much of a taste, and it didn't seem different than when I had done that to Danny. I continued licking, getting it damp, getting it wet, until he I heard him tell me to 'just suck it." My experiences with Danny were always in silence (again, we felt that verbalizing our actions was too 'gay'). But Carlos kept giving me instructions (or were they orders?). "Swirl your tongue... yes, just like that." "Hold it firmer." "Faster, faster." He spoke in a very controlled voice, talking as if I were his servant. Which I guess I was, in a way.

At one point while I was sucking him he said, "My wife doesn't like to suck my cock, but you..." I kept using my hands and my mouth, listening to him breath heavier. Again I was totally lost in the moment, not even minding when I started tasting the saltiness of pre-cum. It didn't taste terrible, just different. And still my mouth remained on the head of his cock.

I was working up a storm of saliva. He was getting worked up, too. His voice turned deep and throaty: "You dirty cocksucker..." And then this: "You're going to take it all..."

I knew what that meant - he wanted to cum in my mouth. And that was something Danny never did. That was over the line - way over the line. And yet somehow I knew that tonight I would cross that line, especially when I felt his hand firmly holding the back on my head, keeping me in place. I must have resigned myself to the fact, because I didn't stop sucking him. In fact, I actually started working his cock harder and faster. Was I trying to get him to cum?

He was thrusting his groin up and down, getting closer to cumming. I kept up the motions of my hands and mouth. And then I felt him tense up, and maybe I felt his cock suddenly feel different, and I heard him gurgle something, and his thighs twitched, and he held my head tighter so that I was forced to keep my mouth on his cock, and he uttered something else, and suddenly my mouth filled with a burst of hot sticky liquid. It shocked me and surprised me and mentally disgusted me. I bucked my head against his hand, moving off his cock, which spurted a second batch of cum that hit my chin. I jerked away from his lap, and rushed to my window and leaned out and spat and spat and spat.

Whew.

And wow, what had just happened? I had sucked a man to orgasm! I had allowed him to cum in my mouth. And yet I was also aroused; why was my erect penis was straining against my pants?

I sat there with my head out the window, not wanting to turn around and see him. I slowly becoming aware of my surroundings. I could hear the insects again. I could smell the car freshener. I heard the car stereo - had it always been on? I wiped my lips and chin with the back of my hand, then felt his hand on my shoulder. When I turned, he handed me a tissue. He looked at me almost kindly. I wiped around my lips, then sat silently. "That was nice," he told me, nodding his head. "And don't worry about spitting it out this time..."

'This time?' What other plans did he have for me? I was too scared and nervous to ask.

"You'll get better," he said almost nonchalantly. Then he pulled up his pants and zipped up. He moved his seat up, started the ignition, and put the car in gear. He drove away, ignoring me as we headed to my house.

I sat in silence. With an erection - my cock was still hard! I wanted to take it out and stroke it, to make myself cum, but that had to wait until he dropped me off. Fortunately my parents were both asleep, so I went straight to my bedroom, where I stripped off my pants and underwear and sat on the edge of the bed. I spit in my hand, closed my eyes and stroked myself. Normally I would think of girls at school or pictures of women from porn magazines. But not tonight. Tonight I thought about Carlos and how I had serviced him. I thought about his short, fat cock, and how it felt in my hand and how it felt in my mouth. Pre-cum oozed from my cock and I stroked faster. And then I thought about his cum erupting in my mouth. And in this fantasy I didn't spit it out; no, I imagined me taking all of his cum in my mouth and savoring every drop, 'getting better' like he said. And it was this image - him cumming in my mouth - that took me over the edge. Now it was my own cock erupting, filled my hand with globs of my cum.

End of Chapter 1

Note: This is fictional story and is Copyright (c) 2018 by MRALX99. You may not copy or use it for any commercial purpose.