My Dumb Jock Co-Worker by CalMaple
Discover an enticing tale in 'My Dumb Jock Co-Worker'—a provocative gay erotic sex story that explores unexpected desires and steamy encounters. Join the journey of attraction and passion in the workplace, where fantasies come to life. Perfect for fans of sizzling LGBTQ+ fiction!<br/>
Author’s Note(s): I don’t recall when I first stumbled upon the story “Dumb Jock Roommate” on this website, but I remember quickly reading it several times after I found it. I became enthralled with the idea of the “dumb jock” archetype that SluttyNaughtyJock so expertly brought to life. After connecting with the author and receiving his blessing, I decided to make my own contribution to the “dumb jock” canon. I hope you enjoy my campy story about a nerdy outcast and his incredibly dumb, sexy-as-fuck jock co-worker.
All characters in this story are eighteen years of age or older.
I pulled into the parking spot closest to the building’s rear entrance. The neon green light emanating from the clock on my dashboard read 7:55 p.m. I didn’t really enjoy my job, but it was a necessity. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to afford to gas up the clunker that got me around my small town. The idea of being a newly minted eighteen-year-old without a car was beyond tragic.
I marched towards the entrance. My oversized navy overalls almost swallowed my diminutive frame as I walked. The lingering smell of raising bread and vanilla fought one another for dominance as they rushed into my nostrils.
The bakers had already left for the day. Even though there were two shifts, none of them ever worked in the evenings. The early crew made baguettes and pastries to be sold to customers through the day. The team after them focused on preparing items that would either be shipped or picked up immediately upon opening.
After making sure to punch my time card into the outdated device that kept track of my hours, I got straight to business. I’d learned that if I hustled, I could have roughly half of my shift to fuck around and do other things. Usually, I’d read some of whatever fantasy novel I’d checked out from my high school’s library or doodle characters from my favorite comic books.
I had been so worried that I’d be found out that I often lied to my boss, Mr. Evans. I’d make up excuses about the bakers misplacing materials and exaggerated how much my workload had grown in just a few months. I thought it’d make him happier that I was still finishing everything at the end of my shifts while reassuring him I was self-sufficient.
It had been a surprise when he’d told me that he’d “listened to my concerns” and hired another person to help me out. I’d offered to work an extra two hours each night, but he told me that he wasn’t comfortable having me staying past midnight since I was still in high school. I tried to remind him that I was eighteen and would be graduating in a few months; it didn’t sway him.
I was awkwardly waiting by the small desk that had all of the packing and shipping order slips stacked into two piles on top of it. I flipped through the pages, trying to gauge how much work I’d have that evening. First and foremost, I needed to wait for Mr. Evans, since he’d texted me that he’d be stopping by for a few minutes at 8 p.m. with some news.
“You’re really going to get along with B,” Mr. Evans said as he opened the door. “He’s been with us since the beginning of the school year. He’s a hard worker.”
I looked away from the tally of orders. A massive figure blocked the door. Mr. Evans was pretty tall, but the guy with him had to be six-foot-five or so. At almost a foot shorter, I suddenly felt like a munchkin.
“B goes to Lakeview,” Mr. Evans continued, “so I’m not sure if you’ve met. Maybe you’ve met outside of school, though? You’re both graduating this year, so you have to have some mutual acquaintances.”
Jesus Christ, I nearly muttered as I got a better view of the colossus. He looked like he was some combination of a professional athlete and a model. He was the twenty-something Hollywood hunk that directors always cast to play a teen heartthrob.
They were both still focused on one another, so I wasn’t too worried either of them would catch me staring. The Adonis had shiny blond hair that was slicked up into a wave at his hairline. Most of the guys in my year sported a similar style. He had dazzling, straight teeth, and two dimples appeared on his cheeks as he smiled. His deep blue eyes made me want to dive into their waters. His jawline was sharp, and he had the nose of a Roman statue.
“And here’s the man himself,” Mr. Evans announced. “B, this is Archer. Archer is going to be working with you to help pick up the extra work that’s come along with the increased orders.”
Archer extended his hand. We shook; his grasp was so much firmer than mine. My fingers were tingling when we finished.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey, buddy,” he replied.
I became more aware of just how massive he was. He was wearing fitted jeans and a Polo shirt. He had what some of the guys at school called “bazooka arms”; his biceps looked like two small melons struggling against the elastic cuffs of the arm holes. His pecs jutted out right at my face. It was impossible to ignore them. His thighs were thick like tree trunks; I wondered what it’d be like trying to wriggle into jeans with legs like that.
He was hot – hotter than hot, in fact. I knew that I was attracted to him right away, but I also knew that he was dangerous. As a hundred-and-twenty-pound nerd, I’d had plenty of interactions with jocks that looked like him over the years. I knew how to spot a geek-bashing meathead from a mile away. I knew we wouldn’t be friends; I’d be lucky if we got along. I didn’t worry about my safety, though, since I knew Mr. Evans would back me up if that became an issue.
“So, you two don’t know each other, huh?” Mr. Evans asked.
“No,” I replied.
“I’m always kinda busy with football and wrestling stuff,” Archer said, “so I don’t really meet many kids who don’t go to my high school unless I’m competing against them.”
“Well, I guess this’ll be a nice opportunity for you to meet someone new,” Mr. Evans responded. “I’m going to have B train you. He knows what he’s doing. B, I’m sure it’ll take a few days to get Archer up to speed, but don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do my best to show Archer how everything runs, Mr. Evans.”
“I know you will. Oh, and text first if it’s after ten. Me and the missus are both so exhausted with the new baby that we’re trying to avoid any noise after a certain hour.”
“Got it,” I reassured him.
Mr. Evans made a dash for the door. He’d never wanted to stay for longer than a few minutes in the evening; I’d come to expect him to call me with important work updates earlier in the day.
I looked back at the order summary sheet for the shift. I tried to mentally tally up how many we’d be boxing for pick-up and how many would be for delivery. Archer looked at me silently; it felt like he was hovering over me.
“Yes?” I asked, glancing up.
“Oh, sorry,” he said with a disarming chuckle. “I wasn’t trying to distract you. I… I just wasn’t sure what to do next.”
“I’m going to have you shadow me today.”
“Shadow?”
“Yes, shadow. Like, observing so you can get a general sense of how things are done.”