Box Lunch

 

 Art by Michael Kirwan 

 Story by James Manley  

originally published in Honcho Magazine - December, 1991 issue

 

 

All the meat you can eat!

____

 

I was trying to sell a potbellied old man in work denims a battery-operated chainsaw when I glanced out the store window and saw Delvin's red and white pickup pulling in the parking lot. My dick hardened and my knees turned to jelly as he pulled up in front of the store and sat there calmly, his black wavy hair casually ruffled and windblown, his full-length sideburns neatly trimmed, and his waxed, handlebar mustache decorating his firm masculine lips. From over my shoulder, the old man said something unintelligible.

 

"What's that?" I asked, giving him a quick glance.

 

"I said, 'You take checks, sonny?'"

 

"Sure."

 

He scribbled out full payment for the chain saw and left the shop with a "Thank you kindly," and "See ya again, sonny." About then, Delvin stepped out of the pickup, tall and solid in a pale yellow shirt and dark, form-fitting jeans; his pant legs were stuffed inside the tops of a pair of black, medium-heeled cowboy boots. My heartbeat quickened as he strolled toward the door, the tight jeans emphasizing his narrow hips and bulging crotch. The noonday sun sparkled brightly on the huge, multi-jeweled belt buckle I had given him a few weeks ago.

 

"Right on time," I said, inhaling the manly cologne that followed him through the door. He turned and struck a lackadaisical pose, one hand on his hip, the other in his back pocket. A mischievous glint filled his light gray eyes.

 

"Business is business," he said with a friendly grin. "And a deal is a deal."

 

"That it is," I admitted, hanging up the Closed for Lunch sign and locking the front door.

 

Delvin turned around and strolled toward the rear storeroom. I followed his broad, sexy shoulders until he stopped by an empty packing crate, unzipped his fly, and pulled out his big cock. He stroked it a couple of times, then leaned back against the massive wooden box. He calmly folded his arms across his chest, and spread his legs about three feet apart. All around him the room was partially stocked with various hardware and equipment: hammers, drill sets, garden hoses, even a couple of lawn mowers. But the hardware that captured my attention was the incredibly thick cock dangling well below his hand-tooled, silver-plated belt buckle. As I watched, the meaty prick started stretching and rising with apparent delight. It was almost fully erect when I dropped to my knees and kissed the bullet-shaped head.

 

"Mmmm," I said, smacking my lips. "Just what I wanted for lunch today."

 

Delvin's right hand reached out and stroked the side of my face. "In that case," he said, "it's a good thing I brought a lot, isn't it?"

 

I kissed the cock-head again. "You mean there's more where this came from?"

 

Instead of answering, he slid his hand around to the back of my neck and urged me forward. I took the cue and slipped his cock-head between my lips. It was taut and spicy, already throbbing. I worked it slowly, gradually sliding my lips farther and farther up the pole, eventually deep-throating the whole thing. His pubic hair tickled my lips and nose. The cock pulsed and quivered in my mouth.

 

"So," he said all of a sudden, "what have you been doing lately?"

 

I ignored his attempt at humor and continued with my business. The rawness of his manhood stuffed my cheeks; its aroma filled my nostrils. I ran my hands over his ass and hips while I sucked greedily. Soon, I was in heaven; my heart pounding, my mouth full of throbbing cock. I pressed my lips and chin against his groin and pulled his body right up against my face. My own dick began to harden as I realized I was the one making everything happen; I was the one giving the pleasure. True, it was his cock fucking and stretching my mouth, his hard-on jabbing my throat. But I was the one in charge. I was the one making that big muscle stiff. I was the one who would make it jerk and spit and shoot in my throat. I ...

 

"I'm there," Delvin said, his hips bucking wildly.

 

He blasted, his cock flooding my mouth. I gulped and swallowed, savoring the richness as his dick shuddered and twitched on my tongue. Moaning softly, I hooked my fingers in his rear pockets and buried my face in his groin. His rigid rod was still squirting and spasming between my lips. His hips rocked and jerked. Warm cum trickled down my chin. Finally, the big cock was drained, a large, masculine lump pulsing faintly in the liquid warmth of my mouth. When it began to soften, I let it slip away.

 

"Pretty good time," he said, checking the watch I had given him for his birthday. "Nine minutes."

 

I stepped out of my shoes and started shucking my trousers down my legs. Delvin pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lit up. When I was naked, I dropped to the floor on my elbows and knees. I felt wicked and vulnerable. My asshole tingled with excitement.

 

"You oughta get a lid for that thing," Delvin quipped.

 

I glanced over my shoulder. He was leaning against the large packing crate, the lit cigarette hanging from one corner of his mouth, his half-hard cock dangling from his fly. I knew we had a minute or two before he would be ready again.

 

"I've been looking around," I said, "trying to find something that screws on."

 

"Maybe you haven't been looking in the right places."

 

"You could be right," I admitted, eyeballing his beefy stalk.

 

He smiled. Thick cigarette smoke curled up past his eyes. I glanced at his cock again. It was a bit longer now, still growing, still stretching. But by the time he had smoked his cigarette down to a one-inch stub, the meaty prong was once again a gigantic bloated hard-on, its fat knob orangey-red, one thick jagged blue vein running down its shaft. My heart thumped insanely as I stared at the enormous erection, weaving and twitching with raw sexual energy. My asshole began to salivate.

 

"God," I said. "I love Tuesdays and Thursdays."

 

Delvin dropped his cigarette to the floor, snuffed it out beneath a booted foot, and knelt down beside me. "You ready?" he asked, slipping a finger in my asshole. The finger probed my quivering tunnel. I gave it some help, wriggling my ass against his hand. The finger plunged deeper, reaming and digging.

 

"You ready?" he asked again.

 

"Yes," I said. "Jesus, yes."

 

He popped his finger out of my ass and positioned himself behind me. A second later his hot dick-helmet was probing my entrance. I relaxed and spread my knees. The cock-head slithered inside me, large and bulging, stretching the rim of my hole.

 

"Ahhhh," I sighed.

 

He slipped farther inside me. I closed my eyes and squeezed his rod with my sphincter.

 

"Easy does it," he said. "Let me do the driving."

 

I lowered my head to the floor and held my breath. His cock sank deep inside me. I moaned once, then surrendered. The big dick began working furiously, throbbing and pulsing as it plundered my ass. I sighed softly and let him have his way.

 

"That's right," he said, clamping his strong hands on my hips. "Just relax and take it easy. You'll love me when you get to know me."

 

He moved easily, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. And he knew when to change. He could tell when I was open and yielding, his for the taking. My own hard-on throbbed, aching with pleasure. His cock pummeled my asshole. Soon, we were both in a grunting frenzy, our bodies grinding and rotating, hunching and rooting. His hands owned me, pulling me into him, pushing me away. His cock burned deliciously. His zipper scratched my ass.

 

"Use me!" I cried. "Use me, Goddamnit!"

 

"Hang on," he said, pulling me against his groin. His hard cock filled me completely. His legs quivered against my thighs, then he exploded, his stiff dong spraying jets of hot spunk up my asshole. My arms and legs could hardly support me. My butthole spasmed, my swollen tits ached as his massive log raked the walls of my ass. Finally my balls triggered and blasts of hot cum started spurting out of my hard-on.

 

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped, balancing myself on one hand while I jacked my rod with short, rapid strokes. Delvin's cock quivered deep inside me. His hands held my hips firmly in place.

 

"It just gets better and better, doesn't it?" he said, driving his cock forward.

 

"Uhhhmmmnnnfff!" I grunted. "That's easy for you to say."

 

He gave my hip a playful slap and pulled out. But it was as if I could still feel him back there, gigantic and swollen, filling me up. I turned my head to look at him. He was on his feet, his hard-on sticking out of his fly.

 

"You're incredible," I said. "Simply incredible."

 

Delvin pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and started wiping his cock. "I get a lot of practice," he said.

 

"I believe that."

 

He checked his watch, then went back to wiping off his dick. "You've got nine minutes left," he informed me, "then you have to open up."

 

"This might come as a surprise to you," I said, "but I think I am opened up."

 

"Well, put a plug in it 'til Thursday."

 

"Ahhhh," I said. "Speaking of Thursday, how about doing me a favor? Don't wear any shorts."

 

Delvin jammed his handkerchief in his back pocket, then put away his cock.

 

"Okay," he said, zipping his fly.

 

"And dab some cologne in the crack of your ass."

 

"Wow!" he said. "Sounds like one of us is going to have some fun."

 

"Yeah? I wonder who that might be? How much time have I got left?"

"Seven minutes."

 

Still naked, I crawled between his legs and started kissing and licking his right boot top, slowly working my way down to the two-inch heel, sniffing and fondling and tonguing his stud footwear. Then I switched to the other one and started all over. I was on both knees and one elbow, jacking my cock and licking the back of his left heel, when I ran out of time.

 

"Fuck!" I grumbled, reluctantly getting to my feet.

 

Delvin pulled a comb out of his pocket and ran it through his hair. I climbed into my clothes and shoes.

 

"By the way," I said, shoving my shirt into my trousers. "Have you seen those fancy lizard skin boots in the display window at Range Land?"

 

He fished a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. "Yep."

 

"How do you think they'd look on you?" I asked.

 

"Great, I imagine. You gonna get me a pair?"

 

"The idea crossed my mind."

 

He used a gold lighter to fire up his cigarette. "A guy gets a pair of boots like that," he said, "it might take him a while to show his appreciation."

 

"My thoughts exactly."

 

He walked out of the storeroom with me right behind. We both stood by the front door while I unlocked it and removed the Closed for Lunch sign. Delvin opened the door, then paused thoughtfully.

 

"Saturday's about the only other day I can get down here," he said.

 

I shrugged. "Saturdays are great for me. Shall we make it a two-some? Say around lunch time?"

 

He studied my face a moment, then his lips curled upward in a faint but confident smile. "Check with me Thursday," he said, and strolled through the door.

 

I watched him get in his truck, crank up the motor, and back away from the store. As he drove across the parking lot and exited onto Farm Road 588, I realized my remark about the lizard skin boots was probably going to fill up my lunch schedule for some time to come. But if he was willing to add Saturday to his regular Tuesday and Thursday visits (in order to show some extra appreciation for another expensive present), it seemed only fair for me to let him do it.

 

After all, his big brother was already dropping by three times a week to thank me for the motorcycle I bought him!

 

THE     END

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They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
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