A gay story: Best of Colleagues I looked up from my monitor and watched intently at Josh, the new hire. I was sure he did not remember me from our encounter a few weeks ago when I was stopped at a random metal detector barrier and got searched, only to reveal that I was wearing a metal cock cage – stupid, I know. The man behind me at that time was none other than Josh himself, who saw me indicate my crotch area to the officer, put two and two together and smirked – the nerve! – at me as he himself passed the detector with flying colors.
Josh was talking with his supervisor, already laughing and making jokes with the surly guy, who treated the rest of us like dirt. Not so our egregious little Joshie, making friends everywhere he went. Now he was making his way down our office, right into where I was ensconced in my safe cocoon. He noticed me looking – gawking, really – and made a turn. “And who do we have here?”
“Oh, it’s Gerald, one of our senior relations officers here, I think you two would make good friends.” Like hell. “Gerald makes the meanest cakes, you’re sure to taste them at our office parties.”
“Sounds fun, looking forward to taste… your cake, Gerald.” He pointed at my husband’s photo beside my screen. “And who’s this handsome man?”
I was disarmed by his charm and half-stuttered, “My husband, we’ve been married for five years.”
“And does the lucky man has a name?” He smiled warmly. When I remembered it later it almost look like he was snarling, like a wolf with a victim in its maw.
“Mason. My husband’s name is Mason.”
“Mason.” He relished the name, much like how he was devouring the photo of my handsome husband. “What a wonderful name, for an undoubtedly wonderful man.”
His supervisor was babbling something about his seat, which will be beside me, the configuration of the desks and desktops and whatever, while I was entranced by his incredibly blue eyes that bespoke of summer skies. He was taller than me by a hair, and the act of having to look up into his eyes made my sub insides melt. Then he gave me a grin, as if aware of the effect he was having on me. Suddenly the fact that he knew I wore cock-cages didn’t matter, didn’t matter at all.
“Hope we’ll be best of colleagues.”
And that was what he exactly was for the first six months he worked. We were seldom put in the same team, but whenever we were we had the best of times. It was a professional relationship, and he was a total mensch about it. Sometimes I covered for him when he screwed up, but most of the time it was the other way around. So in thanks I usually presented him with little candies, protein bars and such. In fact he and I were the designated office boyfriends, just because he and me were the two gays.
I did not know then he was in it for the long game. That the best of colleagues was aiming for my husband.
In retrospect I should had realized it after the office Thanksgiving party. A few of the guys were manning the barbecue, including a few partners and husbands. That would include Mason, my tall hunky husband, who as a line chef at a restaurant downtown was always welcome at our do’s. It was the first time Josh and Mason met, but seeing them talking later you would think they had known each other forever. It sure helped that Mason was looking even more delicious than usual, with his dark blue plaid shirt and his sleeves rolled up, showing his thick masculine arms that sweated like hogs in the heat of the barbecue.
I was manning the desserts counter, because hahaha the gays, but also because I had killed myself for two days making most of the selections available. At times I peered at where Mason was handling the grill like the pro that he was, and four out of five times I would see Josh hovering about, looking bemusedly at my husband like he was a snack, which I guess Mason was. I’d lie if I say I did not like it – my office boyfriend admiring my real husband.
“Just where did you find your husband?” Josh whispered to me later. That question raffled me, as if I was not as good as Mason or something. I wore a cock cage for the guy, so yes, I deemed myself worthy of my husband. But he really looked like a God at the grill then, a total ten – maybe a twelve – so I entertained Josh’ line of question.
“Oh nowhere, just at an orgy.” His spit-take looked funny, but Mason looked worried as he looked back at us in the line. And it was er, technically the truth.
“I would say he’d be hard to miss anywhere but especially in an orgy.”
“He is, he is.” We laughed. But did I detect a slight note of envy creeping in his voice? Probably just a husband’s intuition.
A few weeks after that I was just finishing my shower when I caught my husband lounging on the bed, in his ratty college-age blue shorts that still amazingly fit him all through these years. Looking at him like that, with his glasses perched on his aquiline nose, reading the Daily Beast or something at the iPad, a total hunk of masculinity relaxing in his fortress, secure in my and our love, made me get insanely hot. “Baby,” I was going to ask him for a quick fuck, get my daily dose of protein from his huge elephantine cock, when he interrupted me.
“You know I met one of your colleagues the other day. Josh.”
“Yeah, where?” I nuzzled at his neck, half-hearing his words, my hand already grabbing on his crotch.
“He came to the restaurant, to our bar. Alone, which was strange, don’t you think?”
“Mmmm.”
“I’d think someone – fuck, baby – like him would have a boyfriend or some significant other to have dinner with, no?”
“Mmmm.” My hand, which was rubbing the slit of his cock, froze on his warm glans.
“Why would you care?”
“Dunno, just a hunch.” I looked at his brown deep-set eyes. There was nothing there to beguile me, or so I thought then. It was just a strange coincidence that my husband and my colleague-friend would each express their interest in each other. He suddenly grinned that lovely boyish grin I felt in love with long ago. “Babe, let’s fuck.”
I smiled back. “Let’s.”
But as the nights grew long and the year inched to its end, the more I thought about… my husband and Josh. And not just together as in having dinner-dates or barbecue joints, drinking beer and talking sports – my greatest Achilles’ heel – like the best of friends. I was thinking deeper thoughts, darker thoughts.
Like every time Josh bent down at his desk to fetch something, I’d think about my husband’s huge hands holding him down and then munching down Josh’ ass, which would be magically uncovered, like the ambrosia I thought it would have been. That whenever Josh had a sip of water and a drop dripped along his perfect jawline, I’d imagine my husband licking it and proceeding to give him the deepest of kisses which he previously saved only for me. And whenever I watched Josh smoke on the terrace on top of our office I’d think of him sucking my husband’s rampant, dripping erection.
The scariest thing was, I believed Josh was on to me. He always had that snide way of smiling, which I knew meant nothing unfriendly, but what if it meant something? That he saw what’s lurking inside my head? That he relished the fact that I was imagining him with my husband at every turn of the day? That he knew, like he knew that I wore metal cock-cages for my husband, that I dreamt of my husband fucking him at the slightest mention of his name?
At the Christmas party things took a turn. I was slightly inebriated from the drinks that flowed freely around, and Mason was late. When he arrived I was more than half gone, muttering to myself like a crazy person, laughing inordinately at jokes and such. Only Josh was my tower of strength, but I knew that evaporated as soon as Mason arrived at our office, looking more handsome than ever, the bastard. They carried me to the car together, and we left the party in Mason’s car.
At two a.m. I came to in a rush, like I sometimes did when I was really really drunk. I shuffled across the bedroom to the washroom, took a giant piss. I was dressed in my pajamas, Mason must had asked Josh for help undressing me. An urge to vomit came and passed like a huge train when I realized Josh had probably seen me naked. I gingerly realized Mason was not in bed with me.
I sleepwalked to the guest room, where I heard some sounds. I turned at the door, which was open. We had been planning to renovate this room, paint the walls bright colors and change the draping, make a pretty little nursery. As it stood there was a bed, some boxes from our moving days, and Mason’s gaming computer which was currently switched on to something… obscene-sounding. But those sounds didn’t mask the sounds coming from the bed.
Because Mason, naked as the day he was born, was crouching on the bed, bending down like a huge animal, a wild bear maybe, his mouth latched like a bear to honey, to Josh’ succulent-looking asshole, which was dripping spit and semen. That was when I knew I was too late, that they had already fucked, that the fact they were still fucking didn’t matter anymore as that first hurdle had already fallen. Josh’ mouth was covered by his hands, but a scant moan still escaped now and then, and the fact that he couldn’t control his own voice made it more erotic somehow.
“Fuck, my cum tastes delicious in your ass,” Mason whispered.
“Yeah? Why don’t you add more now, it’s been a while.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Mason drew up to his full imposing figure, planked down on top of Josh’ open thighs, which accepted his huge cock which such ease and smoothness that it seemed impossible that it was their first time fucking. And to think of it, it was probably not. “Ah fuck, your ass’ so warm, so smooth, like fucking warm butter. Fucking thermobutter. Fuck.”
The urge to vomit came back again, but I held it down. What was the thing he said, thermobutter? Was it like a thermometer, but sexual? Like Thermomix, but more useful? Fuck. I listened as Josh sniggered at the moniker he just earned.
“Oh fuckin’ fuck, your cock’s so big, so huge, like it’s ramming up my insides.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told my cock can have that effect.”
“It’s so fucking huge, I’m an idiot for not landing this cock sooner.”
“Well, you have it now, deep in your fucking ass.”
“Yeah, so fucking deep, so fucking huge.”
“Fuck, I’m getting close.”
“Fucking me, I’m close too, I’m cumming, cumming again,” Josh let out a wiry cry as he let out three-four spurts of thick white cum on his tummy.
“Fuck, I’m cumming, gonna cum up your ass, your fucking thermobutter ass, fucking FUCK!”