LEARNING TO HAVE FUN

It was seven o'clock Friday night, and I was settling in to my usual 
Friday night routine: work. One problem with being a project lead was 
that the old idea of nine-to-five didn't apply to you. You worked until 
you were finished, and there was no one to pass the buck to if you 
didn't. And if the team didn't meet their deadlines, it was your ass on 
the line.

We'd only reached the halfway point in the project, and I could already 
feel the warning signs of burnout. 'Just wait until this one's over,' I 
told myself. 'Then we'll go on a nice long vacation.'

I sorted. Who did I think I was kidding? I was a workaholic. This project 
would end and they would put me on another one right away because I was 
damn good at my job, and I wouldn't say no. My brother kept telling me to 
get a life, but I wasn't sure that I knew how anymore.

I shifted in my seat and groaned as stiff muscles protested. I stood up 
and did a few stretches. Tomorrow I would go to the gym, I promised 
myself. It was the one part of my regular routine that had nothing to do 
with work. While I wasn't a muscle-bound oaf who lived at the gym, I did 
work out regularly, at least twice a week. I had promised myself long ago 
that I wasn't going to let myself become one of those big-assed flabby 
execs like the ones I reported to. No, my stomach was flat and my ass was 
tight and the muscles of my arms and legs and chest were all sharply 
defined. I had nothing to be ashamed of in the body department. It made 
up for an ordinary face; the boy-next-door look, I'd been told many times 
in my life.

I was doing a few leg stretches when the door to my office opened, 
surprising me. The cleaning staff didn't come until after ten (a fact I 
knew since I was often still here when they did) and on a Friday I didn't 
think anyone else would still be around.

I looked up and found Steve, one of my engineers, leaning against the 
doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. I was 
a little surprised to see him there. Steve rarely worked over-time if he 
could help it. It wasn't that he was lazy; he was damned good at his job, 
so he rarely needed to, although he was more than willing to put in the 
extra hours when necessary.

"What?" I asked, feeling suddenly defensive at the disappointed look on 
his face.

"You planning on living here this weekend?" Steve asked.

"Of course not," I snorted.

"You planning on getting out of here anytime soon?" he countered.

That, I didn't respond to. I was a little embarrassed to admit that the 
answer was 'No'. On the other hand, my family was all out of state, and I 
didn't have a girlfriend or even a pet, so there was no one waiting for 
me at home. If I wanted to work late, it was none of his business.
My silence was obviously confirmation enough. Steve snagged my jacket 
from where it was hanging on the back of the door and grabbed my wrist. 
The next thing I knew, I was being dragged from my office at a pace too 
fast for me to even dig in my heels and try to stop.

"What the hell?" I sputtered. I was his *boss*, damnit. What the hell did 
he think he was doing?

"Jimmy-boy," he said firmly, "you have obviously forgotten how to have 
fun. I'm going to refresh your memory." Then he clammed up.

I was still pretty stunned, so we were in his car and out of the parking 
lot before I realized it. "My car," I protested, twisting in the 
passenger seat of his little sports car.

"I'll bring you back for it," he replied, his eyes staying on the road.
"But..."

"No buts," he said, shooting a glance my way that made me shut my mouth. 
"I have been watching you work your way into an early grave for the last 
year. No more. If you won't take care of yourself, then I guess someone 
else will have to do it for you."

The rest of the ride went in silence. I was stunned. This wasn't exactly 
the Steve I knew. The Steve I knew at work was a brilliant engineer and a 
happy-go-lucky kind of guy who got along with everyone. He was almost 
five years younger than me, but sometimes the gap felt even greater. He 
was like a kid who couldn't wait to see what was just around the corner.

This Steve was more commanding, a more forceful presence. We were about 
the same size, but while he sometimes felt a little smaller than me at 
work, now he seemed to loom over me. I shivered briefly, wondering if 
he'd gone around the bend or something.

We pulled to a stop in the parking lot of a very nice apartment building. 
I barely had time to look at it before I was being dragged inside and 
upstairs to a small but tidy apartment. Steve pushed me into an armchair 
and said, "Stay," in a forceful tone before disappearing into what was 
probably the bedroom.

I bristled at the order. I should just get the hell out of here; go back 
to the office, go home, go someplace *else*.

I didn't move.

In the bedroom, I could hear drawers opening, then clothes rustling. 
After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, Steve came back out, and 
my jaw dropped.

He was wearing black jeans that were definitely a size too small. They 
had obviously been washed many times, looking soft and faded. They hugged 
every line of his well-shaped legs. Above it, he wore a black silk 
T-shirt. The shirt wasn't very tight, but the slick fabric clung to him, 
shifting with every move he made, catching and reflecting the low light 
in the room like water. The stark black complimented his black-Irish 
looks; black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. I blinked, not sure what was 
going on here.

"I put some clothes out for you. Go change," he said, pointing to the 
door behind him.

"What?"

"Well, you can't go out dressed like *that*," he said patiently, 
indicating my suit and tie. "We're about the same size, so it should all 
fit."

I stood up and took a step towards the door, then paused. A stinging slap 
to my ass woke me up quickly. "Move!" he ordered.

I moved.

I couldn't resist taking a quick look around the room first. There wasn't 
much to see. A large bed with a cast-iron headboard dominated the room. 
Other than that, there were a couple dressers, and closet partially 
opened to show a couple suits and shirts hanging in neat rows. Actually, 
it was a hell of a lot neater than my own bedroom.

"Hurry it up, Jimmy," Steve called from the other room.

I jumped a little at the sound. For a moment I wondered what rabbit-hole 
I'd managed to fall down. I was beginning to feel a lot like Alice must 
have.

I pulled off my clothes, hanging them on a clotheshorse in the corner of 
the room so that they wouldn't get wrinkled. Steve had even left 
underwear out, so I shrugged my shoulders and tossed my boxers on top of 
the rest of my clothes. I might as well play along for the time being.

He'd left out boxer-briefs for me, and they felt a little weird when I 
pulled them on. I'd worn regular boxers for years, and pressure of the 
long briefs was a little disconcerting. I pulled on the white T-shirt, 
tight enough to be a second skin, then the blue jeans. Like the one Steve 
was wearing, they were well worn and a more than a little tight. I 
glanced over at a full-length mirror in the corner of the room and 
blushed a little. I might be proud of my body, but I'd never dressed to 
show it off like this. I brushed my fingers through my sandy brown hair, 
noting that I needed a haircut soon, and firmed up my posture before 
turning and heading for the living room.

There was something weird about the way the pants felt, though. Reaching 
behind me, I realized that there was a rip across the back, right below 
one ass cheek. The red of the boxer briefs would be showing through. 
Better that than skin, I told myself.

Steve was waiting for me. When I stopped in front of him, he waved for me 
to turn around. I did so, arms held out, then waited for him to comment. 
The whole thing was starting to get really surreal.

"Very nice," he said with a smile. "Let's go."

He picked up a slim wallet and managed somehow to squeeze it into his 
back pocket. I turned back towards the other room. "My wallet," I said.

"Don't bother. Tonight's my treat."

And with that, we were off and running.

* * * * *

First stop was a bar where he bought me my first drink of the night.

"Do you play pool?" he asked, heading for one of the tables. I trailed 
behind him carrying our drinks.

"Not since college," I admitted.

"Time for a refresher course, then."

I lost the first game badly, but was getting into the swing of things by 
mid-way through the second game. By the time we racked up for the third 
game I was on my second beer and starting to feel more relaxed than I'd 
been in months. Maybe Steve was right to drag me out of my office. Now if 
I could just figure out why *he* had done it.

I had sunk three balls and Steve had sunk four when he managed to sink 
the cue ball. I fished it out of the pocket it had ended up in and put it 
behind the line. I was rolling it back forth idly, trying to decide where 
to place it for my next shot, when Steve leaned over.

"Your stick's going to feel left out if you keep playing with your balls 
like that," he whispered in my ear, a wicked grin on his face.

I sputtered. He made it sound downright... sexual. I blushed, a quickly 
made my shot, sinking another ball. After that, though, there weren't any 
makeable shots for me. I did my best, then stood back.

Steve brushed against me as he moved in position. I probably had a dazed 
look on my face. Was he making a pass at me or something? And how did I 
feel about it? Besides confused, that is.

He didn't try to drag things out. Moving quickly and efficiently, he sunk 
the rest of his balls. I barely noticed, caught up in my thoughts the way 
I was. If he was putting the moves on me, I should probably decide what I 
was going to do before I had anything more to drink. The rational part of 
me said that it was a no-no. He worked for me, which would make it sexual 
harassment in a lot of eyes, even if he did initiate the whole thing. And 
he was a *man*, for God's sake.

A very handsome man with a great ass, the other part of me pointed out. 
And it wasn't like I hadn't thought about it in the past. I'd never tried 
it, though. Just a little play once in a while with the vibrator I kept 
hidden in a box under the bed. I wondered what it would be like to have 
the real thing, not a plastic toy, up there.

I gulped the rest of my beer, suddenly feeling a little hot under the 
collar, so to speak. Steve sank the eight ball, then stood up grinning.

"Ready to go?" he asked, collecting the balls to return at the bar.

"Go where?" I asked suspiciously.

"Dancing, of course!"

Still a little dazed, I followed him out of the bar and into a cab, 
carried along by his enthusiasm. Suddenly, I grinned. If he did make a 
pass at me, I was going to say yes, I realized. In fact, I *wanted* him 
to. I even thought about suggesting we just go back to his place, but a 
little voice pointed out that I didn't really *know* what he wanted, and 
if he didn't want me, the suggestion could get me in trouble.

I was still arguing with my doubts when we arrived at the club. Steve 
dragged me along, inside and across the dance floor to the bar. He 
ordered a beer for me and a club soda for himself. I gulped at it 
gratefully, starting to feel more than a little buzzed, then turned to 
look out at the dance floor.

I blinked in surprise, realizing that I didn't see a single woman. Steve 
had brought me to a gay club. All my doubts disappeared, and I felt a 
thrill of anticipation run through me. It was obvious that I was being 
seduced, and I liked it.

After a moment, Steve put down his drink and yelled in my ear, "Time to 
dance, Jimmy."

"I..." I started to say, then wasn't sure what I was *going* to say. That 
I hadn't danced in years? That I'd never danced with a man? It didn't 
matter. Steve had my beer out of my hand and me on the dance floor before 
I could decide.

The beer I'd drunk combined with the pounding beat of the music and the 
movements of the other dancers to overcome any inhibitions I might have 
had left, and I was soon moving in sync with Steve and everyone else. 
The crush of bodies pushed us closer and closer until we were almost 
pressed together, chest to chest. I was really getting into it when Steve 
shouted in my ear, "So, are you having fun yet?"

I grinned back at him. "Yeah!" was all I managed before being swept away 
by the music again.

* * * * *

Sometime after midnight -- I'd lost track of time and my watch was back 
at Steve's apartment -- the beers caught up with me. Steve stayed at the 
bar while I made my way to the washroom.

The room was dark, lit only by black light bulbs that made the posters on 
the walls glow eerily. I stepped up to one of the urinals and pulled my 
cock out of my... Steve's pants. With a sigh of relief, I let go with a 
long whiz. Behind me, I could hear a strange thumping noise.

Then there was a groan, followed by a 'Fuck, yes!' and a 'Take it!' I 
almost choked as I realized that there were two guys having sex in one of 
the stalls. They had to know that I was there, but they obviously didn't 
care.

I shook off the last drops, then stood there with my cock still in my 
hand, listening to the sounds.

Over the dim, pulsating beat of the music outside the door, I could hear 
heavy breathing and dirty talk, punctuated by a moist, sucking sound. 
Suddenly the sucking stopped.

"Fuck me," a hoarse voice whispered.

"Turn around," another voice instructed. "Hands on the back wall. Spread 
'em."

My cock started to grow in my hand, but I didn't move to put it away. I 
heard the sound of a wrapper being opened, followed by a slapping.

"You sure you want it?"

"Fuck, yes! Shove it in. Now!"

There was a pause. Then two voices shouted at the same moment. In my mind 
I could see what they were doing, and it made me hotter than hell. The 
whole evening had worked me up to a slow boil, and all I wanted was for 
Steve to take me home and fuck the living daylights out of me. It didn't 
matter why he was doing this, it didn't matter that I'd never done it 
before. I wanted to get fucked.

Realizing that any second now, some one was going to come in and find me 
standing here with a raging hardon in my hand, I stepped into the end 
stall, two down from the two men. I was never going to get my cock back 
into my pants like this, so I started pumping it, still listening to 
them. I bit my lip to keep from moaning out loud.

I could hear flesh slapping against flesh from the other stall. Obeying 
my own urges, I tugged the jeans and boxer briefs down around my thighs. 
One hand kept pulling at my cock while the other collected some of my 
pre-cum and reached behind me. Moving in the same rhythm as the pounding 
I could hear, I slipped a finger in my ass and started thrusting it in 
and out. After a moment, needing more, I slipped in a second. As the 
sounds sped up so did I, until my back arched and I splattered the back 
wall with my cum. Breathing heavily, I leaned against the door, feeling 
the slight stickiness left no doubt by others doing the same thing.

"Yessssssss!" I heard from the other stall, followed by a muffled shout. 
I grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned myself off. I pulled the briefs 
and jeans up, and tidied myself up.

I heard a stall door open, then the sound of the dance music got louder. 
I waited another minute, just to be safe, then slipped out myself.

I found Steve waiting at the bar. He gave me a quizzical look, then 
shouted, "You want another one?" gesturing towards the bar.

"No," I shouted back. "I've reached my limit." Inside, I was trying to 
figure out how to get him out of here. The jerk-off in the bathroom had 
just dampened the need, not extinguished it.

Steve looked at me closely, then grinned. "You want to go?"

"Yeah!"

* * * * *

It took nearly half an hour to get a cab to take us back to Steve's 
place. By the time we got there, I was practically vibrating. I knew I 
was buzzed, heading up the stairs not terribly steady. Didn't matter. I 
wasn't too drunk to know just what I wanted.

Steve locked the apartment door, then turned to me.

"You've got a choice, Jimmy," he said

"Yeah?"

"I can call you a cab to take you home."

"Or?"

"You can sleep on my couch, and I'll take you to get your car this 
afternoon." I blinked, then realized that is *was* almost morning.

"Or?" I asked, expectantly. I didn't want to make the first move, so he 
damned well better.

"Or?" he echoed. I grinned.

"Or."

He stepped in close. "Or I can take you to bed and fuck you silly."

"Or," I said happily, already feeling more than a little silly, and 
headed for the bedroom. Behind me, Steve laughed and came after me.

I had just started undoing my fly when arms came around my waist and 
grabbed my wrists. "My show, Jimmy-boy. You just hold still."

Shivering slightly at the husky tone, I let my hands fall to my side and 
pressed back against him. Steve let go of my wrists, and his hands moved 
up to my stomach. He started a slow undulation against my back, pressing 
his groin against my ass. My head dropped back onto his shoulder and I 
started breathing in deep gulps. I had never been this hot for anything 
or anyone in my life, and we were barely started. I felt like a teenager 
again.

My T-shirt was pulled out of the jeans and slowly inched up my body. 
Steve's hands slipped underneath the thin cotton fabric and his 
fingernails started tracing light patterns on my stomach muscles, just 
barely firm enough to keep from being ticklish. I gasped, and arched into 
his touch.

His rich chuckle rolled past my ear as his fingers moved higher. The pads 
of his thumbs rubbed in circles over my nipples, making them almost 
painfully erect. I shifted restlessly, wanting more, then stiffened as 
those nipples were caught between fingers and pinched hard, sending jolts 
through my body.

"Jeez!" I shouted.

Before I could recover, Steve pulled the T-shirt up over my head and 
tossed it in the corner. Then he was pressing against me again, and the 
slippery silk of his shirt was rubbing against my back.

Now his hands moved to the fly of the jeans. I'd gotten them half-open, 
and he completed the job. He slipped a hand inside and started stroking 
my cock through the fabric of the boxer briefs. The feel of pre-cum 
moistened cotton was almost unbearable rubbing against the sensitive 
head. I wriggled, and the jeans eased down over my hips and thighs, then 
dropped to the floor, binding my ankles together.

Steve was still rubbing against me as his fingers caught at the waistband 
of the briefs. Then he paused. "You sure about this, Jimmy?" he asked 
roughly. "If you want to back out, do it now. Those come down and that's 
it. You don't get out of here unfucked."

I couldn't seem to draw enough air to speak. Instead, I just moved my 
hands, grabbing the waistband and pushing the briefs down, almost pulling 
my own dick off in the process. I pushed them all the way down and 
struggled to kick them and the jeans off, along with my shoes and socks.

Steve just chuckled. "All right, I guess that's answer enough," he said.

As soon as I'd gotten rid of the rest of my clothes, his arms came around 
me again. The feel of denim against my ass and legs and silk against my 
back was intoxicating, and I rubbed against him, trying to increase the 
friction. Against my ass, I could feel that he was hard as a rock in his 
jeans.

"C'mon," I gasped as he ran his hands over my stomach and chest again. "I 
thought you were going to teach me how to have fun again."

"Oh, I will," he promised. "I will."

With that, a wild-man was unleashed. He spun me around and backed me up 
until I hit the bed. A hard shove knocked me onto my back, and he was on 
me instantly. The feel of him grinding against me had me read to cum, and 
he was still completely dressed.

I pushed at him, trying to hold him off for a moment. "Can't fuck me if 
you aren't naked," I pointed out breathlessly.

"Don't be so sure about that," he said with a leer. Then his mouth came 
down hard on mine, forcing it open. His tongue probed wetly, staking a 
claim on everything it found. When I tried to touch him, he grabbed my 
wrists.

"I told you," he muttered against my cheek. "*My* show."

Trapped under him, there was nothing I could do except take what he gave 
me. His weight pressed me into the mattress, and rough texture of his 
jeans against my cock made me scream.

He pulled away from my mouth, and thrust against me a little harder. 
"Cum for me, Jimmy-boy," he said harshly. "Cum for me *now*!"

By that point I was so close that all I could do was arch up against him 
and scream. I came harder than I could ever remember coming before.

When I'd calmed down a little, Steve was lying next to me. He'd opened 
the fly of his jeans, and his cock stuck out through it, an angry red 
color. It was clean and straight and the most gorgeous thing I'd ever 
seen. I reached out to touch it, my mouth watering at the thought of 
getting to taste it, but he fended me off.

"Told you," he said. "You stay, you get fucked. Hands and knees."

Immediately, I rolled over and managed to get the required limbs 
underneath me and my ass in the air. I heard a drawer open, then a condom 
package was tossed on the bed next to me. I shuddered in anticipation, 
and my cock actually started to get hard again. It had been too damned 
long since it had been anything but my hand or my toys that got me off.

There was the sound of a flip-top opening, followed by a wet noise. Then 
a hand slapped against my ass and a finger shoved up it, too fast for me 
to tense up. I took a deep breath, and relaxed. The finger was followed 
by a second, as I was opened up.

Then a shiny hand reached over and grabbed the condom package. While he 
opened it and slipped the condom on, I wiggled my ass encouragingly. He 
slapped it again, and the sting just made me harder.

"All right, Jimmy-boy," I heard dimly. "Here it comes."

In an instant, he was balls-deep inside me, and I hollered. He was a hell 
of a lot bigger than my toy, and it hurt like hell. But he held still, 
and my ass gradually adjusted to the bulk of him. I could feel denim and 
silk against my back, and the metal of his zipper scrapped the flesh of 
my ass. Somehow, knowing that he was still completely dressed while he 
fucked me into next week just made it all hotter.

"Ready?" he gasped finally, and I was pleased that he sounded as affected 
by this as I was.

"Do it," I replied. "Fuck me. Teach me."

That was all it took. He immediately started a hard pounding that didn't 
take my inexperience into account. I didn't care. It was just too damn 
fucking good to care about any amount of pain, and soon there wasn't any.

The thrusts were so hard that I couldn't keep up. Soon I was flat on my 
stomach, alternating between humping the bedspread and trying to push 
back into his thrusts. It was hard. It was dirty.

It was glorious. He was chewing on my neck, then moving up to stick his 
tongue in my ear. His fingernails scraped down my sides, leaving trails 
of fire behind them. And through it all, the pounding continued 
relentlessly.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, Steve leaned 
back, pulling me up against his chest. His hand slid down and squeezed my 
balls. *Hard*. That was the last straw, and I jerked in his arms. There 
wasn't much juice left in me, but what there was splattered against the 
bedspread. Deep inside me, I could feel his cock jerking, and his bellow 
of triumph echoed in my ear.

Still linked together, we collapsed onto the mattress, and I quickly fell 
asleep.

* * * * *

We spent most of the weekend in bed. I finally got to taste Steve's 
gorgeous cock, and he even let me fuck him. I enjoyed it, but even better 
was having him inside of me. Didn't matter where: the shower, the 
kitchen, on the dining room table. He fucked me over just about every 
piece of furniture in his apartment. By the time he dropped me off at my 
car, late Sunday afternoon, I was feeling more relaxed than I'd been in 
years and ready to take on the world, even if I was having trouble 
sitting down.

By Monday morning, though, I was starting to get worried. How would I be 
able to be Steve's boss after what we'd been doing all weekend? And had 
it been a one-shot deal? I was still worrying about it when the team 
meeting rolled around, just before lunch.

I quickly realized that I didn't have to worry about the first question. 
Steve was all business, and so was I. Everyone reported on where they 
stood in the project, and what delays had cropped up. We were pretty much 
on schedule.

I did find myself sneaking glances at Steve, though. A small smile 
hovered on his lips every time he looked my way, but other than that, 
nothing. By the end of the meeting I was pretty much resigned to it 
having been a one-off, just a friendly gesture to his boss. I was a 
little disappointed, but philosophical about it. If nothing else, I had 
something new to spice up my fantasies with.

When the meeting was over, everyone left my office, heading for their 
desks. Everyone, that is, except Steve. He waited until we were the only 
ones left.

He stepped up to my desk, and I felt my blood start to flood to my groin. 
He leaned over my desk and took a long look at me.

"Looking good, but you still have a lot to learn," he said quietly. 
"Friday, six o'clock, lesson two."

He straightened up and left without saying anything else.

I stared at the door, a slow grin spreading across my face. The only 
thing concealing my erection from view was the desk.

I couldn't wait


THE END