tagGay MaleHow the Cook Changed Me Ch. 01

How the Cook Changed Me Ch. 01


Chapter 1. Caught!

Like many males, when I was a teenager I experimented sexually with another boy. I wasn't gay - I liked girls and enjoyed only straight porn - but somehow my best friend and I started "playing around." How that started is a whole 'nother story. Suffice to say, we reached a point where we masturbated and even licked each other's cock. There was nothing emotional or romantic about it. I only sucked him so that he would reciprocate and suck me. Quid pro quo. And I wasn't even very 'good' at it.

We worked in the same diner as dishwashers/busboys, and often on the same shift. One night, after the dinner rush, we were bored. Danny had sneaked in a Oui magazine and we browsed it in the back of the diner. Looking at the pictures got me aroused. Danny got turned on, too; he started rubbing himself through the dirty apron over his pants. "I need to jerk off!" He told me. I agreed, and we decided to go down to the diner's basement, a dimly lit area with the furnace, plumbing, and shelves of supplies. It was a safe space since people rarely came down here, but we grabbed a few things off the shelves for props just in case.

We moved to a corner, hidden behind the shelving units. Sometimes we just masturbated in front of each other, but tonight I asked him, "Should we do the other thing?" (We never gave what we did a name; that would have been too 'gay'.) He nodded and after some consideration I said, "OK, you first." I knelt down on the hard floor. Danny lifted his apron, unsnapped his pants and lowered his zipper. As he paged through the magazine, I reached into his underwear. His penis was semi-erect, but with a few strokes it began to harden. As he arched his back his groin moved closer to my face and I leaned forward to place my mouth on the tip of his penis. I kept one hand on the base, still stroking it, while I licked the head, doing the things I knew I wanted done to mine.

I wasn't really turned on by this; I was just anticipating how good it would feel when it was my turn. So there we were, both lost in our situations - me licking , Danny being licked.

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. In the kitchen Carlos didn't say a word to either of us. I was worried that he'd tell other employees 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 two minutes before midnight (according to the diner's punch clock) Carlos came into the back room and pointed at me. "Alan, I need to you to stay an extra half hour." And when I tried to protest he said, "I'll drive you home. You're on my way."

This was bad. Was he planning on telling my parents? Taking me to church? Or what? I looked at Danny for help but he was as scared as I was, especially with his mother outside. He made a quick exit, wishing me 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 half hour lost in thought and worry. I guessed that since I was the one on my 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 sensed we had gone too far and wanted to say something but fear kept me silent. We turned off the main road, drove three residential blocks, and made a left onto a quiet street. A few blocks later 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. He waited for me to do what somehow he suspected I would do.

By now my fear had mutated into a mix of confusion and nervousness. I noticed that Carlos had parted his legs a bit, 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? And being a horny, oversexed teenager would this even be so terrible?

I probably could have stayed there thinking for hours, but Carlos broke the silence. "Well?"

Since my door wasn't locked I could have gotten out and found my way back home. But I didn't. And I could have just sat there and done nothing, but, again, I didn't. So Carlos didn't rape or force or blackmail me. He didn't seduce me. He didn't even ask me to do something, not verbally. 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 left wrist on his right leg and placed my right hand firmly on his inner thigh. I had rubbed Danny through his pants before; now I rubbed Carlos through the smooth fabric of his pants, my hand over the bulge between his legs. I squeezed him, and when he arched his back slightly I began moving my hand in up-and-down motions. I felt him getting harder, his bulge growing. My confusion and nervousness were mutating into simple arousal. I wondered about his penis: How big was it? How different was it was from mine? How did he cum?

A moment later Carlos 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. And 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 that 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? And when he later 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 down and 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 seemed to have so much more pubic hair than us.

I ran two fingers down the length of it, causing it to twitch. Then I wrapped my fingers around it, gripping it firmly and 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. I rubbed his shaft with my fingertips before gripping him in a fist. 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, knowing that soon he would have me use my mouth on him. 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 this because Carlos was an older man? Was this more like 'real sex' than 'playing around'? Was this 'dirtier' or 'sexier' because I was being submissive to him? I didn't know why; I just knew that my cock was rock hard.

Finally, he said this: "Go ahead... You know what you want to do."

Did I? I must have, because it didn't take any more prodding for me to slowly lower my head until my mouth was just inches from his cock. I could smell a deep, manly scent of musk and sweat. I stuck out my tongue, lowered my head, and licked the head of his cock, once, twice a third time. There wasn't much of a taste, not much different than Danny's penis. Then I licked it up and down the length for minute or two, getting it damp, getting it wet. His voice was sterner now: "No, just suck it," he told me, impatient for me to placed my mouth firmly around the head of his cock.

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." Carlos was teaching me .... teaching me be to become a better cocksucker. He spoke in a very controlled, almost cold voice, as if I were just a lowly servant. Which I guess I was, in a way.

As I was sucking him, I heard him emit phrases in both English and Spanish. At one point 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.

"And my wife doesn't let me cum in her mouth, but you..."

What!? 'Cum in her mouth'? Is that what he wanted? Because that was something Danny and I never did. That was over the line - way over the line. And yet somehow I knew that tonight I would be crossing that line, especially when I felt his hand on the back on my head, holding me in place. I must have resigned myself to the fact, because I didn't stop sucking him. In fact, maybe I wanted to cross that line because I actually started working his cock harder and faster, 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 I felt his hand pushing me closer to him, and his thighs twitched, and he held my head tighter so that I was forced to take more of his cock in my mouth, and he uttered something else, and suddenly my mouth was filling up with a hot sticky liquid, overfilling my mouth, and a gag started in my throat, a retching really, and I couldn't take it, I had to expel the fluid, I had to get away, I had to jerk away from his lap, and as I did I just spit the cum out, not caring where it went, and I rushed to my window and leaned out to spit out the rest of the fluid.

I worked up some saliva and spit that out as well. Then I did this a second time, until I felt my mouth had been emptied of his seed. And not wanting to turn back and see him, I stayed at the window until I felt his hand on my shoulder. When I turned, he handed me a tissue. I wiped around my lips, then sat silently, slowly becoming aware of my surroundings again. I could hear the insects again. I could smell the car freshener. I heard the car stereo - had it always been on? A jumble of emotions and thoughts clouded my head. What had I done? I had sucked a man to orgasm. I had allowed him to cum in my mouth. And why was I still aroused, as my erect penis was straining against my pants? There was so much to contemplate.

When I finally looked up at him he said, "That was nice." He nodded his head. And although his words were kind, again his one was detached. But before I could think about that he said, "And don't worry about spitting it out this time..."

'This time?' I wondered what other plans he had for me, but I was too scared and nervous to question him.

He grew quiet now, ignoring me as he pulled up his pants and zipped them up. He moved his seat up, started the ignition, and put the car in gear. He drove away as if nothing had just happened.

My mind was a blur as he drove me home. I sat in silence, my mind running over everything that had transpired. And then there was my erection - my cock was still hard! I would have loved 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. My teenage horniness was still raging. I spit in my hand, closed my eyes and began to stroke myself. Normally I would think of girls at school or pictures of women from porn magazines. But not tonight. Tonight I thought about Carlos, or at least about his short, fat cock, how it felt in my hand, how it felt in my mouth, how it spilled cum into my mouth. And how I had serviced him, for that was what I had done. Pre-cum oozed from my cock and I stroked and stroked until soon enough my own cock spurted, filling my hand with globs of my own 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.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous02/11/18

The guy in this story has just become a cock sucker and next time he’ll swallow the cum .

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by Anonymous02/09/18

Very nice. My first time was an older man who had picked me up hitch hiking when I was in the Army. He had offered me money to let him suck me off . Since I wasn't getting any at the base and couldn'tmore...

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