Cooked

It was one of the head cooks who started calling him Sweet Sammy, just cause of his smile and how soft-spoken and kind he was.

"He's the type," Adrian said. We were watching Sammy through the little window in the door that led to the kitchen. "Please," he continued, like I'd disagreed with him. "Get a couple beers in him, get him away from her," he said, motioning to Sammy's girlfriend who was in the back too, having just run Sammy the cigarettes he'd left at home. "He would so get down with a dude. Lay back, let you suck his dick. Can you imagine him saying no, if you asked?" I let Adrian get close to my ear. "It's probably a real fatty, too. Bet he'd moan like crazy when you licked his balls. And he'd really squeal when you tongued down to his--"

"Boys." Monica, our manager, had poked her head around the wall of the server's station. "Wanna get to those four tops sometime tonight?" She tapped her manicured fingernails on the pasteboard wall, gave us an ironic smile. "I mean, it's not like dinner rush or anything." I started filling water glasses.

I watched Sammy's girlfriend leave out the back door. Adrian took the glasses I'd filled and put them on a tray. "Trust me, I've seduced so many straight guys. It's those nice ones, those sweet ones, they love blowjobs. It's like manna from heaven. But you better get to it before I do..."

"Fuck off, Adrian," I said, rolling my eyes. I took the tray from his hand and went off to take orders.

Adrian and dated for a few weeks when I started working at Mediterranean Grill, until I realized what an asshole he was. Since then I didn't take him very seriously, but I had to wonder if he had the read on Sammy. Mostly because Sammy was all I could fantasize about since he started working at the restaurant a month ago. He was insanely cute, short and thick with a barrel chest and powerful arms, tattooed all over. It was that smile that was a killer, though. He had such an unassuming confidence about him, such a winning personality that he'd become sort of the restaurant mascot.

He seemed like the kind of guy I needed. Especially in the wake of what had happened with Adrian, which had hurt me pretty badly.

A few months went by and my attraction to Sammy only grew. Then he broke up with his girlfriend, which was a pretty big deal around the kitchen. He broke down crying right in the middle of dinner shift. Apparently she'd dumped him for a friend. I found all this out when it got back to me as rumors do in the hothouse, concentrated-small-town environment of a restaurant. I figured this was it, this was my chance, but I wasn't all that adept at seduction, never had been, and how could I try to make a move on Sammy when he was hurting?

Then came the night from hell, where we had a constant rush from the moment we opened our doors at four up until we caught both a concert and a football game that let out at seven. We were there until well past midnight, and at some point it wound up being just me and Sammy and Monica, Sammy in the back mopping up the kitchen while Monica and I tried to make the dining room look like a tidal wave hadn't just swept over the place.

I don't smoke, normally, but I needed a cigarette, so I bummed one off Monica and went into the back to puff, and Sammy came out and joined me. We didn't say much to each other at first, just leaned against the wall next to the Dumpster, enjoying the quiet and still of a late-summer night.

"How much did you make tonight?" Sammy asked.

"Over three hundred bucks," I said.

"Fuck," Sammy said, impressed. "You should take me out for a drink."

"A drink sounds about perfect right now," I said.

So we finished up and let Monica lock up and walked around the corner to Union, where we took seats at the bar next to each other. It was a little awkward at first — I'd never really hung out with Sammy, and my sexual attraction to him was getting the better of me. But one beer turned into two and then three, and by then I was loosened up and just enjoying his company, laughing about restaurant stuff, stupid customers, and our maniac head cook who liked to storm out right in the middle of a rush only to come back five minutes later, which he'd done twice that night.

"I see Adrian got the fuck out of there quick tonight," Sammy said.

"Yeah, and every night," I said. "You couldn't get that guy to do post-shift work if you stapled his nuts to the chopping block."

"I doubt he's the type who'd be into that," Sammy said, glancing at me from the side of his eye. I laughed.

"No, he's not," I said.

"Oh you guys dated, right," Sammy said.

"Yeah for all of three weeks. He'd barely let me do anything to him, would scream every time I so much as touched near his ass," I said. "Sorry, TMI, probably." Sammy shook his head, took a drag off his cigarette.

"Nah, that's what I figured. I hate that type, people who can't give up control, those ones who are always playing a game."

"That's him," I said.

"It takes a real man to back off, let somebody else drive, you know?" Sammy said.

"Yeah," I said...and got lost in my thoughts because Sammy was looking at me like he'd never had before.

"I've been so fucking horny since I broke up with Trisha," he said, running his hand over his head so that his tattooed bicep in his ratty t-shirt bulged.

"That sucks," I said.

"Yeah," Sammy said, still staring at me. My heart started to race. "It's cool. I've got discerning tastes; I don't go for just anybody."

"Yeah I'm kind of the same way. I mean, Adrian was like my one mistake, but I forgive myself."

"That's good, no sense punishing yourself," Sammy said. He punched out his cigarette. We both had about half a beer left. "Damn I should be exhausted but I'm not."

"I know," I said.

"I've got more beer back at my place. Some tequila, too. Wanna come by and hang out for a while?"

Nothing was said about sex, which made it almost hotter as we got in Sammy's little five-speed Honda and headed to his neighborhood, Sammy switching gears with his big paw and turning up metal music that was blaring out of his stereo speakers. I thought something was going to happen — in retrospect it was obvious — but at the time I didn't know for sure, and as a result my stomach was doing flip-flops and my cock was half-hard and leaking. We had the windows open and Sammy would look over at me occasionally and smile, one hand on the gear shift and one on the steering wheel, his ball cap sitting snugly over his round head, and an implacable smile on his face.

He lived in a house he owned, a little place on a quiet street. It was cute, unassumingly so, just like him. He unlocked the door and his dog ran up to him, dancing wildly, snorting my legs and crotch and licking my hand.

Sammy got us two beers. We cracked them open in the kitchen. I sucked a few gulps down. When I looked at Sammy, he'd drank half of his. He set it on the counter.

"So Jimmy," he said.

"Yeah?"

"You know I didn't just bring you here to hang out, right?" He had one hand on the counter and his other hand was poised at his side. He was still staring at me in that hungry way, and maybe it sounds stupid but I suddenly got scared. Like I wondered if he was going to try to murder me.

"You didn't?" I said.

"Don't be naive. I see the way you look at me," he said. I opened my mouth to say something but no words came out. "Take another drink of your beer," he said, and without thinking I did so.

"You think I'm cute, right?" he said. I smiled a little.

"Yeah," I said, shrugging.

"It's okay, I know," he said, and a bit of the old Sweet Sammy came shining through in his crinkled-up eyes and teddy-bear grin. "There's something about you," he said. "I don't usually get with boys, but I've always thought you were pretty sexy."

"Cool," I said. My heart was beating like crazy. Here was the straight crush of my dreams, telling me he thought I was sexy. Adrian was right all along, I thought, but that didn't feel exactly right. It was pretty obvious that this wasn't going to be a situation where he got hopelessly drunk and let me suck his cock while he covered his eyes and pretended I was Ariana Grande, or whoever it is straight guys fantasize about these days.

"So take off your clothes," he said. Still with one hand on the counter and one hand at his side, looking at me with an even, confident gaze.

"What?"

"Strip," he said. "I want to see your body."

"Are you going to?" I said.

"Maybe," he said. "Don't worry about that. Just do what I tell you and we'll have a real good time, okay?"

"Okay," I said.

"Go ahead and drink the rest of that beer first," he said, catching me eyeing the bottle. I gulped it down. "Now, strip."

I kicked off my shoes. Was I going to go through with this? What if he was trying to set me up, to humiliate me? Just to see how far I would follow his instructions? It didn't seem like something Sammy would do but I was just realizing how very little I knew about him.

I took my socks off too, then went for my shirt, lifting it above my head. I know I've got a hot little bod, smooth and muscular like a twink in an Eastern European porno, and the way Sammy grinned through the side of his mouth put me at ease.

I stood there in my underwear for a second, little, tight short-type briefs that I knew hugged my butt and crotch well. Sammy was waiting, so I took a deep breath and took those down too. My cock, which had been getting hard ever since he'd made his demand, quickly rose up a to a full-on throbbing bone. I shirked my underwear off my feet and stood there before him, totally nude.

I wished I was a little cleaner but I was glad that I'd trimmed my pubes just the night before. Sammy looked me up and down approvingly. To be honest it was a little humiliating, standing there naked before him and completely turned on. I felt so exposed to his gaze, but there was something so thrilling about the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing to me and was utterly in control.

"Look at how hard you are," he said, coming over to me. He wrapped his hand around my cock and gave it a couple of strokes. "Like granite." He cupped my balls in his hand, squeezed them just tightly enough so that it wasn't exactly comfortable or painful. "You like being told what to do?"

"I think so," I said. That made him laugh. "I never really did this before."

"Well, let's find out," Sammy said. He ran his hand up my smooth side. It tickled and I recoiled but he didn't stop. His hands went all over me — my chest and neck and across my face. "You are so cute. Girly in a way. I've wanted to fuck you ever since I first laid eyes on you in that place," he said as his hands dipped down my back. He turned me around and knelt, cupping my calves and running his hands up to my ass where his fingers probed inside. He tapped one finger against my hole. "Damn, smooth and tight, just how I like it."

I felt like a piece of meat he was manipulating, showing off to some potential customer. "You gonna be mine tonight, Jimmy? Do whatever I ask?" he said, grabbing my balls in one of his hands and grabbing my ass cheek in the other. His face was right against mine. He smelled like dank sweat and kitchen grime — a not wholly unpleasant smell, it must be said.

"I'll try."

"There's no trying," he said, grabbing my balls a little harder. "Either you will or you won't."

"I will," I said.

"You will what?" he said, his lips grazing the side of my neck.

"I'll do whatever you ask. Sir."

"Good boy," he said, and with his fingers grasped my chin and pulled my face to his. Next thing I knew his tongue was in my mouth. I was in some sort of heaven, I thought, being manipulated and turned on by this sexy guy. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I'd be making out with Sammy in his bedroom, kissing him like his girlfriend had kissed him.

He broke off from me and laid both of his hands on my shoulders. "To your knees," he said. I knelt on his plush carpet. Sammy brought his crotch to my face, a healthy, packed bulge in the dark grey chino cut-offs he wore to work almost every day. I pushed my face into it, wanting to smell him, feel him against my lips, but Sammy took hold of the top of my head and pushed me back. "Uh-uh," he said, and tipped my chin up so that I was looking at him. "You don't move unless I tell you to, understood?"

"Yes sir," I said. He took his fingers off my chin. "Just look at it now," he said. "Look at what you've been craving for the past four months. How many times have you gazed at this crotch and wished you could see what was inside? Every night?"

"Yes, every night."

"Well, tonight's your night," he said.

He held my face at bay while I stared at his crotch. I had gazed at that delicious bulge before. Fantasizing about what might lay behind it had gotten me through many a night at work.

"Get a little closer," he said. "Smell it." I took a deep whiff. Sammy's crotch exuded a dank, sweaty, undoubtedly masculine aroma that made my cock pulse and leak out juice in my underwear. "Smell good?"

"Yes sir."

"What's it smell like?"

"Sweat."

"You're gonna lick all that sweat off me, aren't you? Clean the sweat from my balls, suck it off them and swallow it down?"

"Yes sir." He let go of my chin.

"Alright, you can press your face into it. Just your face, though — no touching." I immediately shoved my nose and mouth into his bulge. Now I could feel it, thick and coiled in his underwear. I could feel the heat coming off it, the dampness of it, too. "I love a good cocksucker," Sammy said. "Are you good?"

"I think so," I said, looking up at him. Sammy grinned.

"I think so, too. As long as you're my cocksucker we'll be good."

"Okay."

"Say you're my cocksucker."

"I'm your cocksucker, sir."

"Good boy," he said, taking the back of my head and shoving my face into his crotch. My head swam with the smell of him. "Look at how hard you are. You're gonna love being my cocksucker, aren't you? My own personal faggot. Damn, look at your ass." He knelt down and ran his hand across my smooth back, his finger riding the groove of my spine right into the cleft of my smooth ass. He pressed a finger to my hole. I felt his cock pulse against my face. I guess that's when I knew I was going to get fucked by this guy. I hadn't been fucked in over a year — not since Adrian, in fact — but it suddenly felt like the one thing I'd been missing in my life.

"Alright," he said, standing upright. He pushed my head away from his crotch, forcefully so that I careened backward and had to put a hand on the floor to keep myself upright. "Ready to see it?" he said, staring in my eyes as he unbuttoned his shorts. "Ready to see what's been making your mouth water all this time?"

I nodded, yes. He took his shorts down. Even the sight of his underwear -- striped boxer briefs, tight around his thick thighs, hair cascading over the top of his waistband, his dick thick as a tube of toothpaste filling out the front, made me swoon. He lowered the waistband, slowly revealing his cock until it bounded out, hanging there, bouncing in front of my face. At the base of it, around his meaty, hairy balls, was a thick metal cock ring. That was a surprise. He'd apparently been wearing it the whole shift. His cock was somewhere between soft and hard and the ring gave it this swelled and heavy appearance, pushed out from his body by the ring in a way that made it seem intimidating and hefty.

His cock was as thick as him and in some ways exactly like I imagined it to be, the head chunky with a deep piss slit. Already there was a drop of precum coming off the tip. I wanted to taste it so badly that I just stuck out my tongue and lapped it up. "Hey," Sammy said, pushing my face away but it was too late. I rolled that thick drop of salty straight-boy precum on my tongue.

Next thing I knew I felt a sharp slap across my face. It was a shock. "Did I tell you you could fucking lick my cock yet, cocksucker?" I was speechless. I'd never been slapped like that before. I felt bewildered by it, abused, but at the same time it turned me on. I looked up at him, cradling my cheek in my hand, the hurt and pain in my eyes clearly. Sammy could see that I wasn't that hurt though, and I could see, behind his eyes, that we were on the same page. He was driving this car, that was for sure, but I was most definitely along for the ride.

"Did I?" he said again.

"No sir."

"Don't fucking do anything unless I tell you to do it. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. My cum's a precious thing, I don't give that to just any faggot, understand?"

He had me lick his feet. His toes were hairy and his feet weren't entirely clean. He had kind of hobbit feet, thick gnarly toes but they were pretty in a way. I couldn't believe what I was doing, crouched low on the ground licking the tops of his feet until he lifted them up and I sucked on his toes, getting my tongue deep into the grooves of the spaces between them, then licking down his arch to his heel and back up again. My cock was completely hard, sticking out like a dart from my crotch, my ass bent and completely open. Occasionally he would slip his hand down my back and feel my hole.

He let me lick his balls next, which were gamey and sour but smelled and tasted like the essence of him, so I slurped them right up. I got both in my mouth and I could tell he was impressed, moaning deeply with this sexy boom of a voice. Finally I got to take his gorgeous cock in my mouth. He only let me lick it first, only tongue no lips, so I tasted all over his salty shaft. When another drop of his precum oozed out the tip I looked up at him.

"Tell me how much you want my cum, cocksucker."

"I want it so badly, sir. I'm hungry for it. If I could only eat your cum for the rest of my life I'd be happy." I think I impressed him with my subservience. Honestly I was impressing myself. It was like Sammy had seen and brought out this side of myself that I hadn't even realized existed.

"Okay, faggot. Go for it. But just get it on your tongue, don't swallow it. Keep your tongue out," he said as I licked it off. He leaned down and brought my face to his. His tongue went for mine and we shared his precum, our tongues writhing into one another. His lips locked on mine and we were making out. Fuck that turned me on.

I stood with him and we kissed some more. His hand went right to my ass. I braced myself, hands on his shoulders as he roughly felt up my ass, pressing his hand into my crack, fingers going for my hole as he kissed me deeply. He broke apart and looked at me. "Let's go into my bedroom," he said.

His bedroom was an extension of him. There were punk rock posters all over his walls, clothes on the floor. He reached under the bed and pulled out a box. I saw him rifling through it, caught site of dildos and anal beads...a whip...and then he pulled something out and held it toward me. It was leather straps and metal rings. "Put this on," he said. I had to admit that I didn't know how. "It's a harness," he said. "I used to wear it with one of my old girlfriends. But I've thought about you wearing it for a while now." He slipped it around shoulder and buckled me in. It went across my chest and back and gave me an interesting feeling, the leather straps confining in this comfortable way. When he grabbed the back of it and shoved me down onto the bed, I got it. He'd harnessed me. I was even more his, now.

Sammy positioned me on my back with my head over the edge of the bed. He shoved his thick, hard meat past my lips and down my throat, without a lot of regard to my comfort. I loved it, loved being a receptacle for his big hetero fuck stick. His hips moved fluidly as he glided his cock between my lips and down into my throat, over and over again, fucking my face into submission. I choked a few times but eventually my throat was just open and Sammy was just fucking it like a cunt, grasping the front of the harness in his hand, his nuts slapping against my forehead. He shoved it deep, to the hilt. I couldn't breathe; I was smothered in Sammy and I was loving it.