Gay Erotic Stories

Consultant to the Board Part 2 It was just over a month since I had met Costa and Savvas. Since my first meeting with Costa one evening at my house, I had accepted the brothers’ offer to assist them in breaking away from the company they worked for, and setting up business for themselves. My own work was taking me out of town more and more often of late, and besides communicating through e-mail and with cell phones, I had not seen either brother for about five weeks. Returning home early one evening from a few days away, I was full of pent-up frustration at the waste of this business trip that had seemingly been made in hell, and I realized that whatever perishables were in my refrigerator would probably now only be fit for the trash bin. I decided to drop in at the fresh produce shop Costa and Savvas now owned, to buy a makeshift supper and see what progress they had made since my meeting with Costa all those weeks ago. It was near closing time when I arrived, and there were only two other customers remaining in the shop. Not finding the brothers in the office, I wandered through to the storage area at the rear of the store, where Costa was leaning shirtless against a massive pile of full 10kg pockets of potatoes, red-faced, sweating and covered in fine black dirt. “Stranger!” he greeted me with that twisted grin of his. “Where have you been? It has been too long.” “I know,” I replied, moving to shake his hand. “No, no,” Costa said. “I am dirty. I have been trying to move some of this mountain of potatoes my brother has sent in today. There are more coming in tomorrow, and I need to make space…” He gestured around the storage area. One of his cashiers shouted back from the front of the shop: “I am locking the front door, Costa. All the customers they have gone.” “Okay,” shouted Costa in return. Then to me, “Come, let’s go to the office quickly – I must put away the cash. Savvas, he can count it in the morning.” I followed Costa through to the office, admiring his figure from the rear. His shaggy light brown hair had been cropped short since our last meeting and the muscles on his shoulders and back rippled as he walked. The sprinkling of freckles on his shoulders and upper back had disappeared under the layer of dirt, but just above his belt, the sweat had collected some of the dust together and matted the hair that grew on his lower body. His small buttocks were outlined in his constraining jeans. Dolly said good night to us and let herself out, locking the doors behind her. Costa placed all the cash-drawers in the safe, secured it, and then collapsed in his chair. “There’s at least four hours work if that place is to come right tonight!” he exclaimed “What about me helping?” I offered. “With two of us, we can get the back area sorted quicker.” “You?” Costa laughed. “In your fine suit and smart shoes? I don’t think – your clothes will get ruined.” “So then I take them off,” I said, seriously. “Come, Costa, face it – you will never get through that all by yourself tonight – that pile is huge.” “You are right, Dave, my friend. Take off your jacket – somewhere here is an overall you can wear.” Costa stood up and began rummaging around the untidy shelves. “Forget it,” I said, already having removed my shoes and socks. “I’ll work in my jocks. As long as there is a tap and a towel, that’s all I need before I get into my car when we are finished.” Costa turned around about to protest, but when he saw me standing there with just my suit pants to remove, he realized I was serious. “Okay, then, Mr. Executive, you win. But, I join you.” He removed his trainers and socks, and quickly stripped off his jeans. Unlike on the previous occasion when I had seen him just as naked, this evening Costa was wearing boxer shorts, unlike my own ‘Y’-front briefs. Costa had a bronzed skin. His nipples were small and dark brown, and were encircled in haze of fine brown hair. A line of similar hair ran from just below his sternum to his navel, from where it darkened and fanned out into his crotch. His stomach, although not washboard-severe, was flat and defined, and his legs, from playing soccer in his teens, were nicely muscled. I could feel my desire rising, so turning away from this robustly built sight I went to the office door and asked, “Well, what are we waiting for?” “Let’s do this,” agreed Costa and the two of us together padded bare-foot and almost naked through to the storage area. Opening a control box on the back wall, Costa switched off all of the store lights except for those where we were working. “Now,” he instructed, “I will stand here and catch and pack, and you throw to me. If you can manage,” he added with a chuckle. “Yeah, stuff you,” I retorted, bending down and heaving up the first sack. With a casual swing, I tossed it to Costa. “Come, Shop Boy,” I taunted, “let’s move a bit faster!” Soon, we had developed a good rhythm and the shifting was progressing well. I was enjoying being able to switch my mind off my work at last and give my body some strenuous exercise, but after a couple of hours, my back was killing me from bending double for so long. “I’m stopping,” I gasped. “I need a break.” Costa regarded me with scorn. “I told you, Office Man, you are weak.” “Go get something for us to drink,” I suggested, too tired to argue. Costa vanished into the dark of the shop, and I stood up straight, my hands on the small of my back, trying unsuccessfully to massage all the knots and aches away. “Let me do that,” said a voice in my ear. “You drink this.” Costa thrust a can of cold drink over my shoulder. I grabbed at it thankfully. “Do your worst,” I answered, leaning forward with both hands resting on the piles of potato pockets. He started rubbing my spine – getting his hard fingers into the joints and pressing vigorously – and worked his way from my neck down to my coccyx. Then, he placed a hand on each hip and started to work his way back up my body, kneading all my aching back muscles up to my shoulders. He went slow and took his time, responding to my groans. “How was that?” he asked eventually, popping the tab of his cold drink. “Don’t stop, please.” I begged. “I think I have muscles I never knew existed.” I heard him put the can down, and then suddenly his sinewy arms were tight around my waist. “You bastard,” he snarled into my ear. “You get me hot and horny for you the first time we meet, lay me two weeks later just when I think I have forgotten you, and now you arrive here after five weeks more, all cool and calm, after not bothering to come and see how my brother and I have been doing!” “Hey, relax, Costa,” I exclaimed in shocked surprise. “I’ve been away – you know that. And I have kept in contact with you guys.” “Yeah – like a hand-job is any substitute for the real thing,” he sneered. “Feel this - this is a muscle I wish I could have forgotten existed!” He let go my waist, ripped my jocks down and roughly kicked my legs apart. His callused hands grabbed at my shoulders, and the next thing I felt was the fat, round head of his dick probing at my ass-cheeks. Letting go my shoulders, Costa fell heavily against my sweat and dirt-encrusted back, knocking me off balance so that we both collapsed onto the remaining low stack of full potato pockets. “Shit, Costa!” I cried out in pain, as my body hit the knobby, hard potatoes. “What are you doing?” “This,” he answered shortly, his unsympathetic hands pulling my ass-cheeks painfully apart. I felt the big, pre-cum, slippery head of his dick blindly seek out my hole, probing and darting about like a blind thing, smacking now against my cheeks, now on my lower back. All my frustration of the past few days came back in a great, red rage. Twisting myself out of Costa’s savage grip, I quickly turned around, jumping to my feet at the same time. I was just about to give Costa a shove on his chest with a foot, when he grabbed my legs and brought his face into my crotch. “Dave,” he moaned, “Dave, I want you so bad. Can’t you see how mad you make me?” Glancing down into the shadows, I could see. There was a shiny trail of pre-cum, glistening in the poor light, dripping from the potato pockets and collecting stickily on the hard concrete floor. Costa’s deep purple cock-head was gleaming and drooling, and his chunky 15 centimeter long column, sheathed in its full, smooth skin, was straining up towards me. I stared at the top of his head, with it’s matted cropped brown hair. I felt his face pressed into my thigh, and his corded arms holding my legs tight. He turned and lifted his face, staring up at me with his bright brown eyes. “Please?” he asked. “Come and stand here next to me – come and hold me?” I stood there on the knobby pockets of potatoes for a few moments more, aware of the warmth of his gritty skin against mine; the pleading tone of his voice; the ridiculous situation we were in. Slowly I raised my hands and cupped his face gently between them. “You silly little fool,” I whispered softly. “Do you think that not being able to be with you every night; not being able to see you each day – first thing when I wake up and last thing before I go to sleep – has been easy for me? Every night for the past five weeks, I have woken up and felt the empty pain in my guts because you were not there with me. I couldn’t bear to dream, Costa, because it was a dream – I couldn’t turn to you and hold you properly in my arms.” His tight grasp about my legs collapsed and he stood there limply, staring blankly up at me, speechless. I crouched down, still holding his face in my hands, and brought our faces to the same level. Closing my eyes, I brushed his lips with my own, teasingly at first, then with a great urgency and need, with terrible force. Costa wrapped his arms around my neck, and sobbed into my mouth, opening his salty lips and forcing his tongue between my teeth. I lowered myself to sit on the potato bags, their uncomfortable shape pressing sore against my sensitive balls. I gripped Costa’s thighs between my own, pulling him close to me. His dick, which had softened as I had softly spoken to him, began to rise again, nudging against my own still soft penis. Still holding him to me, I wriggled forward on the potatoes until my feet were flat on the hard, cold floor. Costa’s penis pushed hard into my groin, it’s swollen tip rasping rough against my thick pubes, smearing a sticky clear trail of juice over them. My own cock began to fill, and I knew that if this happened, there was no way we would ever get the store room packed right before the next morning. Tenderly I pulled Costa away from me. “Uh-uh,” I said in measured tones. “Costa, we must clear this up first. Then we can go home.” He glared wildly at me, lust gleaming thick in his eyes, not hearing for a moment or two. “I mean,” I went on, “what would happen if we were still here like this tomorrow morning, or all covered in dried sweat and dirt and cum, and your brother walked in? What then?” Costa pulled away from me and gave a snorting laugh. “Savvas? He would be furious!” “So, then,” I said. “Let’s get this finished, and quickly, and then we can go.” Costa relaxed and glanced at his watch. “You are right – it is almost ten o’ clock. It seems we must wait a little longer.” It took us another hour before the back area was packed, swept and tidy for the next day. While I went to find a tap to wash off what grime I could, Costa gathered our clothes into a bag and from somewhere pulled out some plastic sheeting. “I come with you in your car,” he said. “And tomorrow you bring me to work, and we have a meeting with my brother, the three of us.” While Costa armed the store’s security system, I spread the sheets of plastic on the car seats. Costa was quickly with me, and as we were driving home, he said, “You know I said Savvas would be cross, to find us in the shop in the morning?” “Yes,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road. “Well,” went on Costa, “I meant that he would be angry not because the shop was not right, but because I had slept with you twice, and he has still not got it right!” In my shock, I nearly drove off the road! “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Savvas is married.” “Yes, so?” answered Costa with a chuckle, his grimy hand going to the back of my neck and rubbing it soothingly. “The two of us we had a bet – which one would get you to bed first. I have won, twice!” I pulled up in anger in front of my house, not sure whether to tell Costa to get the hell out of my car and walk to his place, or to laugh and invite him in. He must have guessed what was going through my mind, for he removed his hand from my neck and placed it on one of mine. Swiftly, he lifted them over to him and rubbed hard between his legs through the gap of his boxers. He was fully erect once more and groaned as I grabbed him and squeezed tight. “Now, who’s the bastard?” I said. “You, your brother or me?” Costa laughed. “For me, I know who my parents are. For you and Savvas, I cannot answer.” His witticism pleased him greatly. “One thing I do know,” he continued, still laughing, “is that Savvas has such a small dick, you must look for a long time to find it.” I shook my head in feigned exasperation, opening the car door. “Are you coming inside?” I asked. “No,” said Costa. “I sleep here. Of course I’m coming inside. For a smart Mr. Executive, you at times can be very stupid. I wonder why my brother and I hired you.” “It must have been for my looks,” I retorted, unlocking the front door. “Hurry up, Shop Boy, I want to have a shower and seeing as you haven’t paid me yet, I thought you should join me to save water.” Costa grabbed our clothes from the back seat of the car, slammed the door closed and sped bare-foot through the open door of the house, dropping the clothes in a heap by the kitchen. “If I get to the shower first,” he said slyly, “there will be no need for hot water.” Pushing each other aside like a couple of schoolboys, the two of us raced eagerly to the shower. END OF PART 2 drewf82, 280201 If you enjoyed this story, and would like to follow this developing relationship between Dave and Costa (and maybe Savvas?), contact me at drewf82@hotmail.com and let me know. I welcome all ideas for story lines and am always open to positive suggestions.