Officers' Boy
By: Kenneth Kirk
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

kkirk@tickiestories.us

Introduction

Have you ever noticed the randomness of life?

I’m referring to the fact that some seemingly insignificant event that appears to be a completely random occurrence can alter the trajectory of your life so much that in a year or maybe just a day or two the entire direction of your future can be changed completely.  I came to believe this in the early summer of 2014.

If you’re skeptical of my assertion, then I invite you to join me for a raunchy romp through my college years.  If you stick it out, you’ll become a true believer that life is beyond your control and that you are at the mercy of the fickle gods of chance with their wicked senses of humor. 

Chapter 1 

The day was quite an ordinary Monday; the day my life changed.  Although, at the time, the event that initiated my life veering off its previous course seemed totally insignificant.  It was a few months later I first realized May 12, 2014 was much more significant than the day I received an A+ on my Senior English essay on the history of NASA or the day I spilled lasagna sauce on my favorite white tee-shirt, which ruined it forever.  Both of those events happened on the same day, but had little long-term impact on my life.

So, you might be wondering, what is this random event that changed your life?   

I’ll get to that in a minute, but first you need a little bit of background about me.

In May 2014, I was a senior at Hillsborough High School in Tampa, Florida, following the school’s pre-engineering program, but also enjoying my “softer” courses such as English, history, and Spanish.  I’m not bragging when I say I was an honor student and a member of the student council because those are verifiable facts.  Standing 6’2”, I was pressured to play basketball, but found the sport boring.  Instead I was on the varsity swimming team, where I swam a strong 200-meter freestyle and swam third position in the 400-meter freestyle relay.  I also was a member of the men’s doubles team in tennis, where my best friend Roger Harrison was my partner.

In addition to my school activities, I held down a part-time job at a nearby Starbuck’s in keeping with my father’s insistence that I not be “a blight on the good name of the Swensons.”  Frankly, he wasn’t my favorite person, being so locked up in his own spiritual box that he couldn’t seem to relate to ordinary people like me with real issues like puberty, girls, grades, social concerns, and the occasional unruly hardon.  Dad was the head pastor at a megachurch over on Dale Mabry Highway and loved his flock so much the wife and kiddie back home pretty much missed out on his concern, attention, affection, assistance, compassion, and empathy.  Most people thought him a great guy.  Maybe he was to them, but as a husband he seemed B- at best and as a father I waivered between D and F most of the time.  I couldn’t wait to get out from under his overpowering judgmental control when I would go away to college in the fall!  Then I would be over a thousand miles from his withering stares as a freshman at Baylor University in Waco, Texas.

Mom seemed happy most of the time and was much better as a mother than he was as a father.  She’s a gorgeous 40-year-old woman and a spectacular soprano, so she was the lead soloist for the church, singing the offertory song about one Sunday in three and joining an occasional duet or trio regularly, too.  She gave singing lessons to the young girls in the congregation, which brought a sort of endless procession of training bras through our living room.  When I went to work at Starbuck’s, I loved missing out on the horrendous sounds of off-key would-be sopranos who were at our house three or four afternoons a week after school.

Enough about my ‘rents.  This story is about me!

By the way, since my story is a type of gay erotica, I assume you’re curious about my looks.  So, I’ll indulge you, my lovely horny reader, with a detailed description.

My name is Eric Swenson and at the time my life changed so completely I was barely 18.  I’m 6’2” and very slender, having a 28” waist and weighing in at about 160.  I’ve been working out for a couple of years, so even if I am tall and light-weight, I’m not one of those guys who seems to be a skeleton with skin.  I have firm pecs and biceps, tight abs, and a pronounced vee leading into my Speedos.  My legs are not thick, but they are well formed from swimming, tennis, and a lot of bike-riding I do around town.  My skin is light and practically hairless except for my legs and my butt, which has a covering of short hair so light you can only see it up close.  Speaking of my butt, it’s firm and has a nice curve to it, though I wouldn’t exactly call it a bubble butt.  I think its best features are the dimples on the sides and the hair on it when it catches the light.  If I say so myself, I look damn good in my school Speedos and I can tell by the looks I get from the girls and a few of the guys that everyone else thinks so, too.  From the way some people check out my crotch when I’m at the pool, I think my genitals are above average in volume.  (Truth time: I know my genitals are bigger than many guys because I check them out in their Speedos and in the showers and locker room.  Let’s just say I fill out my Speedos better than most on either the swim team or the tennis team with the exception of the swimmer Donovan Cooper, who is a close friend.)

In looks, thank the good Lord, I take after my mom rather than my dad.  I’m handsome enough that I was voted “Most Handsome” during our junior year and I got the lead in last year’s spring musical, “Oklahoma!”  Yep, Curly here.  I have nice facial features, I’m told, with lips that have been described on several occasions as “kissable” and once in my hearing as “pouty.”  I have very light blue eyes that occasionally seem to mesmerize other people.  I wear my naturally ash blonde hair short on the sides and a couple of inches long on top.  When I’m not at home or in church, I wear my hair in spikes that seem to attract some good attention.

If you saw me in person, you’d find me attractive, wouldn’t you?  If you’re a top, you’d want to fuck my tight ass, after licking it for a few minutes and maybe fingering it, too.  If you’re a bottom, you’d want to spread your cheeks for me.

But I didn’t know all that on May 12, 2014.

On May 12, 2014 I reported to my job at Starbuck’s a few minutes before 4:00 p.m. so I could change into my uniform in the bathroom like I always did.  I’d been working about 12 to 15 hours a week as a barista since the beginning of last summer and had gotten comfortable with the routine.  I worked from 4 to 7 three nights during the week and then usually had a shift over the weekend that was 6 to 8 hours.  Sometimes I would sub for someone else to increase my hours, but for me school and sports always came first, so I usually just stuck to my regular schedule.

I’d barely signed in at the cash register that afternoon when the event that would change my life happened. 

I looked up to take my first customer and saw him. 

He was shorter than me by several inches, had sexy brown hair cut short, mysterious brown eyes, smooth skin with a bit of scruff, and an open-mouthed grin that showed a full set of bright white teeth.  He was so enticing that I forgot for a few seconds where I was or what I was doing.  My breath caught in my throat and my jaw fell open.  Oh my God, I thought as I stared into his eyes.  We gazed across the register for an exorbitant amount of time before I realized I was starting to throw a woody.  I shook my head to try to clear it and get my brain functioning above my waistline again. 

“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered.  “May I help you?”

His grin widened and his eyes twinkled as he said, “No doubt.”  I wondered if he was flirting but then he winked and I knew he was!  I had to lean heavily on the counter as my knees went weak.

I smiled back at him.  “Um,” I said intelligently, “What can I get you?”

“A grande Veranda blend, please.” 

His voice was rather deep and full and carried a very slight accent.  As he spoke I caught a glimpse of his wet, pink tongue against the back of his teeth.  I couldn’t stop myself from imagining kissing his beautiful mouth, feeling his tongue as it entered my mouth to claim possession.  Of course, this made my cock swell inside my skinny jeans.

I don’t know how long he waited, but finally he said, “Hello?”

That broke my fantasy-land detour.  “Oh,” I said, “sorry.”

“I keep losing you,” he grinned.

“Sorry,” I mumbled again.  Get a grip! I ordered myself.  “Okay, you want one grande Veranda, right?”

“Sure do!”

“Room for cream?”

He chuckled before he nodded, “But of course.”  He winked.

My cock throbbed at the double entendre.  “It will take a couple of minutes because I need to do a pour-over for you.”

“No problem,” he grinned.  “I’ll know it’s fresh.”

He was very nice and I started to relax.  “Yeah, that’s the beauty of a pour-over.”

I punched in the codes and read off the total to him.  Thank God my addled brain didn’t need to calculate the amounts! 

Slowly, he drew a five-dollar bill out of his wallet, granting me a few seconds to ogle his body, which I now noticed was covered in an olive military-type jump suit, a flight suit, maybe.  Even though the clothes fit loosely, I could see a good bit of chest where the zipper was down.  What I saw there was smooth, healthy skin covering some impressive pecs with a nice indentation between them.  I had the distinct impression he was strong and well-built all over.

He handed me the bill with a grin.  My cock throbbed.  Shit, I was almost fully hard!

I made his change and inadvertently touched his palm as I handed him the money.  I jerked back from the contact and dropped some of the coins.  Luckily, they fell right into his hand.

When I recovered, I picked up a cup and a marker.  “M-may I have your name, please?”

He studied me for a moment before he smiled and said, “Racer.” 

I’d never heard of anyone called that, so I thought I might have misunderstood.  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

He laughed.  “I hope so!”

I realized how dumb it was to ask if he could repeat his own name.  What an idiot!  I felt my face getting hot.  One thing I hate about being so fair-skinned is that I blush so easily.

“Racer,” he said, “like the guy who drives a race car.”

“Sure,” I said as I wrote it on the cup.  I glanced to my left to see Sylvia staring at me like I was naked or something.  Could she see my erection?  “I’m just going to make this pour-over,” I said and turned away.  She turned back to her customer.

He stepped away while I moved awkwardly into the prep area.  When I was safely behind the counter and out of view “down there,” I tried to adjust the angle of my dangle so it was no longer uncomfortably crimped in my briefs and skinny jeans.  It took me three tries before I succeeded.  I swear, even though he couldn’t see my crotch, I think he knew exactly what I was doing.  I felt myself blush again.

Finally, I set about doing my job.   Once I had the coffee grounds in the filter, I poured hot water across and let it slowly seep through the filter into the cup.  I stole several glances at him standing near the front wall as I waited for the water to pass through.  I could see he was a bit older, maybe 22 or 23.  His shoulders were broad and he was so handsome he was beautiful.  Each time I looked at him, he was staring at me with an indecipherable grin on his face.  Embarrassed, I would quickly look away or down.  I was still making a fool of myself!

When the cup was ready, I didn’t set it up on the pass-through as was our custom.  I took it out to him myself.  He watched me the whole time as I circled behind the bar and walked across the front to hand it to him.  I almost dropped the cup when I realized he was looking directly at my crotch.  Shit!  I was still hard and had to be showing.

“Impressive,” he said softly as he took the cup.  “Thank you,” he whispered as he nodded his head toward me.

My face burned.  “It’s my pleasure, sir.”  Being near him without the counter and register between us almost made me shoot my wad.

“No,” he looked at my nametag, “Eric.  The pleasure is mine!”

I felt my face heat up again.  What was wrong with me?

He took the cup and turned his back to me as he sat the coffee on the condiment stand.  I immediately checked out his butt, however, the loose pants didn’t show what I wanted to see.  As he poured cream into the cup, he said, “Do you work every afternoon?”

“Um, no,” I answered. 

“What’s your schedule?” he asked as he turned back to face me.

“Generally, I work from 4 to 7 on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday and on Saturdays, usually from 8 to 2,” I recited.

“I’ll see you again,” he smiled as he turned and walked out of the store, but not, as it turned out, out of my life.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

As he pushed open the door, he glanced back at me and winked before stepping out.

I stared after him for a few seconds as he walked across the parking lot to a tan-colored Jeep Wrangler.  How butch, I thought.

“E-ric!” Sylvia’s high squeal broke through my brain fog.

Behind me eight or ten customers stood impatiently in line as Sylvia worked the register and Nathan worked the back.  Quickly I returned to the second register, avoiding Sylvia’s obvious scowl.

******** 

That night just before 10:00, as I was lying across my bed reading the ever-dull Beowulf, I got a text from Sylvia, who is not only my boss but one of my best friends. 

SYL: I know he was hot, but a hardon in the store?  Shit!

Okay, she had definitely seen my embarrassment.  I thought I would shift the blame. 

ME: He did?

SYL: Don’t give me that shit!  U did

ME: Im 18 12 

There was a long silence before the phone pinged again. 

SYL: OMG U R BIG 12

What could I say? 

ME: So?

SYL: U like AF stud

ME: Yeah

SYL: Did U whip it?

ME: FU

SYL: ????

I ignored her.

SYL: ???????????!

ME: Yes

SYL: I KNEW IT 121212

ME: WTF?

She was silent for a while.  I tried to get back into Beowulf, but before I could really get going on the book, the phone pinged.

SYL: He likes U 2

ME: How do U know

SYL: Kept watching U and smiling

ME: Y would he want me?

SYL: Maybe that big dick 12

ME: Syl!

SYL: U R right.  Not that.  Ur sweet ass!

ME: Syl!

SYL: He wants U

ME: I wish

SYL: He’ll F U good

ME: Syl!

SYL: By the end of the month

Damn!  Now I was hard from Syl’s texts.  This is a little bit sick!

ME: I’ll never see him agin

SYL: Fuck U will!  He’ll B back

Please, God, let it be so! 

ME: Get some sleep

SYL: Sweet dreams!

ME: U 2 Syl

Just when I thought I might get into Beowulf again, the phone pinged once more.

SYL: He’s dreaming of Ur ass

I ignored her and Beowulf, too.  I stripped and plopped into bed, imagining “Racer” kissing me, touching me, rubbing my dick….  No, rubbing my ass.  His hand feels so strong.  His pecs are big against my chest as he lays across me.  He rolls over, pulling me over onto his body.  Then he strokes my buns, squeezing gently as his tongue enters my mouth.  His big, hard, sticky cock lays against my belly.  He caresses my butt cheeks.  He rolls over again, pinning me to the bed as he begins to move his body against mine.  His big cock pushes insistently against my belly.  His finger finds my hole and I whimper into his mouth as it presses against my rosebud.  It enters me.  I moan and my cock spurts precum.  Our precum mixes on my belly.  His kiss is almost rough.  His thrusting on me is powerful.  I am at his mercy.  A second finger slides into me.  Now his fingers fuck my hole as his cock fucks my belly.  He is so fucking hot!  His fingers pull out and he shifts on top of me.  His big hands grab the back of my thighs.  He rises onto his knees, still tongue-fucking my mouth.  My legs come off the bed and my hips swivel as he pushes my knees to the bed on either side of my torso.  He shifts again and I feel it against my hole.  His cock!  He pushes.  I yield.  It slides into me like a baseball bat, opening me like never before.  I …. can’t imagine exactly how it must feel.  I pause in my stroking and my fantasy.  It must hurt.  Bad?  In my brain I hear Mrs. Allen yell out, Grammar!  OK, Mrs. Allen.  Does it hurt badly?  I cannot imagine quite how the pain would feel.  But, I can imagine his cock must feel huge.  He slides all the way in.  I gasp.  I imagine the fullness.  He’s inside me!  The thought is overwhelming.  Pain?  Who cares?  I stroke.  He’s inside, so big, so strong, moving.  I stroke.  He’s in me!  He’s in me!  He’s in me! 

Oh, fuck, this is amazing.  I stroke as fast as I can.  I feel my orgasm starting and then it’s happening!  As I cum, I cry out, “Racer!”  Strong.  Powerful.  It feels fucking awesome!  My juice flying everywhere. 

Thanks, Racer, for two great orgasms tonight.

To be continued...

Posted: 04/01/2022