- About this book
- About the editor
- I. Sex on the Job: A note from the editor
- Between the Lines — by Barry Alexander
- Faxing Off — by David Laurents
- The Job Interview — by Adam McCabe
- Paperback Romance — by Alex Jeffers
- A Hard Night’s Work — by M. Christian
- II. The Job of Sex: A note from the editor
- The Heat of the Moment — by Don Shewey
- All in a Day’s Work — by David Evans
- The Surrogate — by Jameson Currier
- The Nether Eye Opens — by Don Shewey
- Hot Lights — by Kevin Killian
- The Audit — by Dominic Santi
About this book
There’s something about the workplace that inspires our fantasies … The cute applicant willing to do anything to get the job … The inaccessible boss giving you a sudden booty call … In this ebook, your wildest sex-on-the-job dreams will come true!
And for some, sex is the job: be it porn stars, hustlers, or a drag queen dominatrix. Read about what it’s like getting paid to get laid — told in painstaking detail, some of it from personal experience.
About the editor
David Laurents is the editor of numerous anthologies of gay erotica, including Southern Comfort, The Young and the Hung, Feeling Frisky, Rough and Ready, and Overload. His anthology The Badboy Book of Erotic Poetry was a finalist for the Lambda Literary Award. He lives in New York City.
I. Sex on the Job: A note from the editor
You keep staring at the clock, wondering why the minutes keep ticking by so slowly. You’d give anything to be somewhere else. Preferably someplace warm and sunny; a nude beach, perhaps, surrounded by gorgeous naked men …
Now you’re sitting at your desk, trying to keep your mind on your work, but you’re distracted by the hard-on in your lap …
What is it about the workplace — the stupid mundane details? the rigidity and routine? — that makes our minds fantasize so strongly?
And, of course, let’s not forget the appeal that the Working Man — and I mean the working class working man, that epitome of butch maleness — has on our libidos.
Even in the more-traditional office places of corporate America, we find ourselves in situations and power-dynamics that can turn us on, and we’ll fantasize about flipping roles — throwing the boss across his desk, say, and fucking him silly — or perhaps reinforce them: wanting to worship the boss’ authority over us.
The stories in this first section of HARD AT WORK examine the world of our workday, and the sex that happens — or that we make happen — while we’re on the job. These tales will have you telling the secretary to hold all calls and locking the door to your office while you let your fingers and imagination get to work, or perhaps seeking solace in the bathroom down the hall.
And, if you’re reading these stories on your time off, your boss may be startled to find you showing up early to work the next day. With these tales to fuel your imagination, he sure is in for a surprise!
Between the Lines — by Barry Alexander
“Lance’s cock was a huge, throbbing, juicy fat cylinder of turgid, gleaming, wet, scarlet, succulent man meat. Randy’s velvety-smooth, milky white quivering bubble butt was speared fast and sharp by Lance’s awesome, red-hot iron-hard love weapon. So round, so firm, so fully packed.”
Jeff tossed the manuscript onto the growing pile of stories waiting for rejection slips. He didn’t need to read any further to make a diagnosis: adjectivitis with severe loss of verb function, accompanied by acute sentence fragments. Prognosis: terminal.
Jeff sighed as he picked up the next one. He’d thought this was going to be a lot more fun than his former job as a medical technician. Someone was actually going to pay him to sit around reading dirty stories and meeting the hunky models who strutted through the pages of Hot Stuff.
But it didn’t work out like that. Jeff spent most of his day running errands, answering the phone, and processing subscriptions. When he had the time, he sorted through the ever-growing mountain of slush on his desk. Models never stopped in. Writers did. Bulging biceps and massive torsos were confined to their stories. Writers looked like — well writers.
Jeff skipped to the last page of the next story, “Jocked Off”:
“The quarterback had just pulled out of me when the coach walked into the locker room. I smiled up at him, jock jizz oozing out of my tight end. ‘You were wrong, Coach. You said I’d never make the team. Well, I just did. I made the whole fucking team.’“
Yeah, right. After only three months at Hot Stuff, Jeff had read at least a dozen getting-fucked-by-the-team fantasies: the football team, the hockey team, the soccer team, and one really kinky story about a polo team and its ponies.
Jeff had two problems: He needed a decent story for the next issue, and he needed to get fucked. He hadn’t had a good ass-pounding, cock-pumping, all-night fuck since his lover left.
He looked across the room to the editor’s closed door and sighed. Marcus was tall and leanly fit. A shock of silky black hair tumbled over his broad forehead. Beard stubble shadowed his square-cut jaw and rimmed his full lips. When the office was hot, Marcus would remove his jacket and tie and open his collar. The sight of all that lush black hair curling under a crisp white shirt gave Jeff fantasies of endless summer. Marcus was friendly, but Jeff never forgot that he was the boss. He didn’t want to risk losing another job. So far everything was on a strictly professional level.
Jeff picked up the next story.
“Rod’s big ripe tomatoes pulled up to the base of his hot dog, and the plum-shaped head mushroomed over his crisp, oiled stalk. His plump, spicy sausage exploded, drooling thick cream all over the sweet honey buns of the little tart beneath him.”
Nothing like a well-balanced meal, Jeff thought. Salad, main course, and dessert. Wonder if he’ll give me his recipe? Jeff checked his watch and decided to break for lunch.
In the break room that Hot Stuff shared with the other departments of Magnum Publishing, Jeff sat down and shoved aside the junk cluttering the long table to make room for his sandwich and soda. There was no one to talk to, so he picked up a copy of New Age Writer that someone had left behind. He flipped through the magazine’s pages that promised great writers’ secrets and surefire success. He couldn’t help laughing at the ads.
SAY GOOD-BYE TO WRITER’S BLOCK –
EX-BLOX KEEPS THOSE WORDS FLOWING!
STOP STRAINING TO FILL EMPTY PAGES —
NATURAL, THERAPEUTIC AGENTS
PROVIDE GENTLE OVERNIGHT RELIEF!
WHERE DO WRITERS GET IDEAS?
EVERYWHERE THEY WEAR WRITER’S KAP!
ELECTROMAGNETIC DISKS CHANNEL PSYCHIC FORCES
INTO STORY-PRODUCING IDEAS
(BATTERIES NOT INCLUDED)
NO MORE REJECTIONS!
WRITE THE STORY YOU’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO WRITE!
EDITORS READ THE STORY THEY’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO READ!
SUPER SUBLIMINAL PAPER
Writers would believe anything. Jeff tossed the magazine aside and finished his lunch. He was probably one of the few people in the building without delusions of writing the Great American Novel. He took the job to help forget the lover who’d walked out on him and because he thought he’d get his rocks off reading the stuff. Well sometimes he did, but not often. After three months of stories about pizza boys, truck drivers, and cops with turgid, bloated, and engorged dicks, cocks and fuck poles shooting, blasting, and exploding rivers, pools, and oceans of come, man juice, and love cream, he didn’t find many of the stories erotic.
Jeff groaned as a lavender cover letter fell out of the next big yellow envelope. Damn! Not another one from him. Every week for three months, Clarence Twait had submitted the worst stories Jeff had ever read.
Hiya, Ed! Ya gotta love this one! My lover swears it’s the hottest thing he’s ever read, especially when the big, butch leatherman goes spelunking for the peanut butter and marshmallows. Be sure you put it in next month’s issue. I want to surprise him for his birthday. Hornily yours, Clarence
I must be a masochist, Jeff thought. Experience should have taught him that he’d find nothing usable here. He fingered the heavy stock of the manuscript in surprise. The guy should spend his money on writing lessons instead of on such obviously expensive paper.
The beginning wasn’t half bad. By page 2, Jeff’s cock was starting to sit up and take notice. He double-checked the author’s name. The expensive paper confirmed it: Clarence Twait. Jeff couldn’t figure it out. It definitively wasn’t the horrifying story Clarence had described in his letter. Somehow Clarence had learned to write. Perhaps the good editor’s fairy had at long last taken pity on him.
The main character sounded exactly like Marcus: lean, muscular build, silky black hair, and dusky blue eyes. By page 3, Jeff ached so badly he couldn’t wait to turn the page. How in the hell did Clarence know what he wanted Marcus to do to him? Everything was perfect, exactly as he’d imagined it to be. Surreptitiously, he stroked the hard bulge straining against his Calvin Kleins. He teased his fingers up and down the thick cock, imaging they were Marcus’s fingers. His breath quickened and his face flushed as he read more, turning the pages with one hand. He eased his zipper down. The hard mound of his cock welled into the opening, the thick white bulge of cotton already moist and throbbing.
Jeff longed to open his pants fully and slide them down his slim hips so he would have full access. He didn’t dare. Even at a porn magazine, you can’t sit around beating your meat. If he had a private office like Marcus, he could lock the door and do what he damn well pleased. He could open his shirt and stroke his nipples into hard little points. He could run his hands over the light coating of hair on his inner thighs. He could take the lube out of his desk and slick it all over his pink cock until it glistened under the fluorescent lights. He could pump it slowly up and down, listening to the moist sound of flesh on flesh, speeding up when the fat helmet flared and darkened with the powerful surge of blood up his engorged shaft. Then, when it got close, when he couldn’t stand it another second, he could –
He couldn’t. He didn’t’ have a private office. He could only squirm his fingers inside the opening and touch his hard flesh, cock and balls squashed together in the tight confinement of his briefs. Damn! It just wasn’t the same.
Jeff worked for a few more minutes before he gave up. The short, furtive strokes just weren’t going to do it, especially when half his attention was focused on the office door he feared would suddenly open. He pushed the painfully hard mound back inside his trousers.
He could finish the manuscript at home, but he had a better idea. Trying to ignore his demanding dick, he waited until his tumescence was under control. He hesitated outside Marcus’s door. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe Marcus wouldn’t even notice the similarity of characters — or care if he did. In three months he’d never made a move. Jeff took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in,” Marcus said in his clear baritone. He looked up and smiled when Jeff entered. “What’s up?”
Jeff couldn’t help blushing. “I’ve got the perfect story for that hole in our November issue, but I’d like you to take a look at it, Marcus.” Jeff tried to let his enthusiasm show without being pushy. He struggled to keep from fidgeting.
Marcus leaned back in his swivel leather chair and looked at him curiously. Jeff knew the boss was probably picking up on his anxiety, but he couldn’t help it. Just looking at that strong, lean body only inches away was rousing his cock. He clutched the papers in front of him for cover.
“You caught me at a good time. I just finished checking the model releases, and that new photographer canceled his appointment, so I’m free. Let’s see it.”
Back at his desk, Jeff tried to keep his mind off his squirming cock. He picked up a manuscript, then tossed it back on his desk. Marcus had to want this one, had to want him. He jumped when Marcus called him back into the office.
“Well, that was some story.”
“Yeah, I thought so,” Jeff said awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do next. He couldn’t read the expression on Marcus’s face.
Marcus handed him the story across the desk. His white shirt tightened across his broad chest, showing a hint of nipple as he stretched. Jeff was so intent on the little peaks that he dropped the manuscript. Paper fluttered all over the desk and floor. Jeff made a wild grab, missed, and knocked a pencil stein over. It bounced off his foot and rolled under the desk.
“Oh, shit!” Jeff scrambled under the desk and rescued the ceramic stein. He scooped up the scattered pens and pencils. “I think it’s OK. I don’t see any cracks,” he said breathlessly. He didn’t know if the cup had a special meaning to Marcus, but he sure as hell didn’t want to break something that might have been a gift from a lover. Spotting another pencil under the desk, he dived for it and surfaced right between Marcus’s sprawled-open legs. For several seconds he stared wordlessly at the bulging basket just inches from his face.
“Everything all right down there?”
Jeff’s face flames as he looked up at Marcus’s dancing eyes. “Uh, yeah. Great.” Jeff gulped. “I got it.” He held up the maverick pencil.
The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched. “Sure you weren’t looking for something a little thicker?” Jeff started to get up before Marcus’s meaning registered. Then he felt a pair of big warm hands pressing down on his shoulders.
“Don’t. I think you’ve wanted to be down there for a long time.”
Marcus reached for his zipper. Mesmerized, Jeff watched the teeth part slowly, one by one, until something big and hard and red surged outward. He couldn’t believe it! Marcus the conservative dresser, always so formal and businesslike, sported a bright scarlet jockstrap!
Jeff stared at the full package, swathed in scarlet silk and waiting to be unwrapped just like a birthday present. Sheer fabric revealed the clear outline of a thick shaft. A wet circle clung to the deep red cock head. Jeff’s hands shook as he reached for the enticing mound. Heat burned through the silk as he petted the hard shaft. It arched beneath his touch like a cat being stroked.
Jeff pressed his face against the mound and inhaled. The warm musk of Marcus’s crotch sent a fresh surge of blood into his own dick. He rubbed his face back and forth, feeling the moisture against his cheek. Marcus groaned and pushed Jeff’s face harder against his groin. Jeff mouthed the fat cylinder twitching under his lips. Slipping his tongue under the edge of the pouch, he lapped the furry balls. He bunched the fabric until the fat orbs escaped, one on each side of the gathered silk.
“Oh, yeah, suck those balls,” Marcus said. Spreading his legs wider, he raised his hips and shoved his slacks down, exposing the flattened rings of black hair on his muscular thighs.
Jeff tongued the damp inner flesh of his thighs and savored the salty sweetness of his sweat. He teased Marcus for several minutes, and then he ripped the jock off. Marcus’s big cock bounced free, eight inches of fat, veiny man meat. Jeff caught it in his fist before it finished bouncing, and it throbbed and jerked against his grasp like some trapped wild creature.
Suddenly Marcus pulled away, yanked open his desk drawer, and dug frantically through its contents, spilling junk all over the floor. “Oh shit! Where are they?”
Jeff laughed at the mess Marcus was making. He stood up and reached into his own pocket. “Hey, Marcus, you looking for one of these?” he asked with a big grin as he held up a condom.
“Give me that thing,” Marcus ordered.
“Uh-uh.” Jeff danced back, holding the little packet out of reach. “I’ve waited for you for three months. It’s your turn to wait.”
Jeff tucked the packet down inside his briefs. While Marcus watched, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then ran his hands over his solid chest and flat stomach.
Jeff smiled at the feverish look in Marcus’s eyes; this little performance was getting to him. Marcus thumbed his cock downward, aiming it straight at Jeff’s crotch. He stroked it from the hairy base to a flaring head as red and silky as his jock.
Jeff shivered in anticipation, but he wanted to prolong the excitement. He undid his pants, spun around, and shoved them down past the small hard mounds of his ass. He bent as if he were going to push them all the way off, then yanked them back up after flashing his tight pink pucker.
Marcus groaned. “Get over here, you damn cockteaser.” Without waiting for a reply, Marcus crossed the room in two steps, grabbed Jeff in his arms, and thrust his tongue down his throat and his hand down his pants. Jeff responded eagerly to both probes. The kiss was hot and wet and passionate. Jeff couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care. He worked frantically at Marcus’s shirt buttons so he could bury his fingers in that lush black forest. He ground his hips against Marcus, trapping Marcus’s hand inside his briefs.
When he finally came up for air, Marcus pulled his hands free and triumphantly held the condom packet aloft. His hand was wet from Jeff’s precum, and he wiped it in the black thicket on his bared chest.
Marcus grabbed Jeff by the back of the neck and pulled his face forward. Eagerly Jeff went to work, licking his own juice off the sweat-dampened hairs. He slid his hands under Marcus’s open shirt and explored the firm muscles of his back and shoulders. His lips brushed over the hard point of Marcus’s nipple, and he sucked it in. He bit lightly, then rubbed his tongue over the peak. His lips trailed the narrow line of hair leading to the heavy pubic bush, licking and kissing. He wanted to linger, but he moved downward, pulled irresistibly by the thought of what lay ahead. Jeff dropped to his knees and stared, hypnotized by the swaying cock just inches from his mouth. “I gotta have it,” he groaned. “Put it on.”
Marcus dropped the packet into his hand. “Do me.”
Jeff ripped open the packet, caught the cock, and covered it. He crammed it into his mouth and swallowed it in one gulp, mashing his lips against Marcus’s wiry pubes. Suctioning it back to the head, he held the shaft in his fist and swirled his tongue over the glans.
“Oh, man, that feels great.” Marcus sighed. “Get it sloppy. I’m going to drive this rod right up that cute little butt of yours.”
Given that kind of incentive, Jeff went into a power suck, impaling his throat with the sheathed cock, time after time. He polished it with hot spit until it gleamed.
“Good enough.” Marcus panted as he pulled away. He had to hold Jeff’s head back when Jeff tried to dive for more. Marcus wiped a thread of drool from the corner of Jeff’s mouth and grinned at the glazed look on his face. “You want it that bad?”
Jeff nodded vigorously.
“Then get that ass over this desk and prepare to get fucked.” With one sweep of his arm, Marcus cleared his desk, knocking everything to the floor. He pushed Jeff face down and pulled his cock back until it swung between his spread legs. Marcus ran his finger along the fat tube to the ridge of Jeff’s smooth pink cock. Clear juice pooled at the slit. Marcus gathered the abundant lubricant and slicked it all over the throbbing target.
Jeff shuddered at the intimate touch and parted his legs even wider. His cock jerked, bumping against the desk edge and smearing a snail trail of precum over the polished wood.
“Yeah, that’s what I like to see,” Marcus said, “a nice tight ass, all pink and spread and greased.” He nudged his cock against the opening.
Jeff moaned, thrusting his hips backward, searching for the giant cock he had fantasized about for so long. “Hurry! Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Marcus pulled away and rubbed his cock over the smooth white globes of Jeff’s ass. “I don’t believe you really want this. Tell me how much you want it.”
“I want it. I want it really bad.”
“Nope, not convincing.” Marcus slid one finger down the narrow chasm and tapped it against Jeff’s frustrated hole.
“Damn it, Marcus, stop horsing around. Shove it in.” Jeff rocked his hips backward, trying to capture the finger that was teasing tight little circles around his sensitive pucker.
“Better, but I’m not quite convinced.” Marcus said. He dropped his heavy shaft in the slick divide and drove it upward over the gaping hole.
Jeff whimpered at the delicious friction. “Don’t do this to me,” he pleaded. “It’s been too long. I need it. I need you. Please, Marcus.”
“OK, baby, I’m convinced.”
Immediately Jeff felt the cock head at his asshole. He pushed backward, opening himself and welcoming the hard shaft that slowly entered him. Inch by inch, Marcus’s cock filled him until he felt the tough pubic hair rub against his asscheeks. “Oh, yeah!” Jeff sighed.
Marcus leaned forward and kissed him between the shoulder blades. He lay against him for a moment, letting him get used to the size of the cock inside him. Jeff enjoyed the heat and weight of Marcus’s body covering his. The rough pelt of Marcus’s chest rasped his back, and the hard nubs of Marcus’s nipples poked his skin.
“Fuck me, Marcus. Fuck me hard.”
Marcus pulled back, bracing himself with his hands on the desk. His cock slid free until the head stretched the opening again. He lunged, slamming the entire length of his cock deep inside. Jeff grunted.
“Yeah, ram that big dick in me!”
Marcus rode him hard, rocking his body with the force of his thrusts. Jeff clutched the desk corners to prevent his sweaty body from sliding across the slick wood. His cock thumped against the table edge every time Marcus’s big balls slapped against this ass.
Marcus shortened his strokes, dicking him with the last couple of inches. He caught Jeff’s throbbing cock in his fist and worked it while his hips pistoned faster and faster.
Jeff whimpered. The big warm hand drove him closer to the edge. He wriggled his hips in delight, clamping down and trying to give as much pleasure as he was receiving. The desk creaked in rhythm with the wet slish, slish of flesh on flesh. Their ragged breathing formed a stereo medley of gasps and grunts as Marcus’s cock stroked and pummel and filled every hungry inch of Jeff’s guts.
Sweat dripped off Marcus’s heaving chest and trickled down Jeff’s spine into his ass crack. Jeff couldn’t feel Marcus’s balls slapping against his butt anymore, they must have tightened. Marcus was almost there. His fat cock head flared, opening Jeff even wider. Marcus locked his hips in place, bucking wildly as he drove himself deep and faster into Jeff’s quivering body.
It was too intense. Jeff went over the edge. He moaned and whimpered as he came again and again, pumping a thick white fountain all over the side of the desk. His guts convulsed, clamping down on Marcus’s cock and milking it. “Give it to me, man! Give me everything.”
“Take it, baby. Take that hot load!” Marcus roared. He clutched Jeff’s hips as if his life depended on it, gave a final ass-pounding thrust, and let loose. His cock thrashed around in Jeff’s ass like a fire hose out of control.
Marcus collapsed on top of Jeff, his weight warm and heavy. Jeff could have stayed that way forever, with Marcus’s breath hot and moist against his neck and his heart thudding against Jeff’s back.
All too soon, Marcus eased off Jeff’s satiated body and helped him back to his feet. To Jeff’s delight, Marcus took him in his arms and kissed him. “That was wonderful, baby, but you didn’t need to go to so much trouble. I’ve wanted to do that since the first day you walked into the office. You didn’t need to write a story to seduce me.” Marcus held Jeff in his arms and stroked his back slowly.
“I didn’t, but sure as hell would have if I’d thought it would work.” Jeff turned his head against Marcus’s chest and sighed. “I couldn’t believe it when I read it. It was exactly what I’d fantasized since I met you.” He looked up and grinned. “I’m just glad Clarence didn’t submit the story he described in his cover letter — peanut butter and marshmallows. Yech.”
“It was exactly the way I imagined it too. Right down to the black Stetson and spurs.”
Jeff looked puzzled. “I don’t remember spurs.”
“How could you miss them?”
“I didn’t read it all the way through; I was in such a hurry to show it to you. But I’m sure I would have noticed spurs.”
“Whatever. Just as long as it worked.&