My Curious Encounter with Scott

This is a true story, let me know if it arouses you!

I was working late in the office, but I wasn't the last one to switch off my PC and go home. Scott, the new boy, tall dark and skinny, was still sat at his computer. I was puzzled what he was still doing there: having only started last week, he couldn’t have had a backlog of work yet.

Scott had given me lingering looks before, as if he was checking me out. I stood next to him at the urinals on his second day, and I was sure I caught him looking down at my dick. That seemed a little unfair, so as he looked up again, I caught a glimpse of his. He certainly wasn’t modestly hiding it. He had undone all his trouser buttons, pulled down his underpants, and sat his ball-sack on top of the elastic. Below a cloud of dark brown pubic fur was slung his circumcised dick – long and slim and smooth like the rest of him.

Now, don’t get me wrong, normally I’m as straight as the next man: my cock has been up its fair share of pussies, and the idea of fucking a man’s arse was not something that seems at all attractive. But at the urinals that day, after that fleeting glance at this strangers semi-flaccid dick, I could feel mine swelling a little.

Tonight as I tapped away the last few figures into a spreadsheet, I could feel Scott’s eyes lingering at me over his monitor again.

It was raining outside, and I had to cycle home. As cycling to work was my only exercise, I was determined to do it in all weathers, even tonight. I shut down my computer at about 8pm, when darkness had fully fallen. I moved over to where the coathooks were holding my change of clothes on the wall.

“You off?” Scott raised his voice.

“Yep, just gonna change into my waterproof gear – hope you don’t mind – it’s pissing it down out there.”

“Want a lift?”

“No thanks, I’ve got my bike.”

I removed my shoes, my necktie, my suit jacket, and my trousers and folded them into a pile. I took waterproof trousers, jacket and sports shoes from my back pack, and replaced them with my suit. I don’t know why, perhaps to tease Scott, but I decided to remove my white shirt at well. Normally I’d wear it under my anorak, but for some reason I decided to bear my chest. I stood there in just my white jockey shorts for a while, the tight material clearly showing the contours of my genitals. After parading about for a minute, I pulled on my waterproof trousers and jacket, ties my shoes, and shouted “Bye” across the office.

At traffic lights I held up my arm to signal left, and waited for them to change from red. A wide puddle lined the corner kerb. As the lights went green, I turned, slowly peddling through the puddle. From the right came an estate car, apparently inconsiderate, fast through the puddle, spraying me with gallons of water, and making me loose my balance. I landed on my side, half off my bike, my two hands holding me up on the kerb.

“Fucking dick!” I shouted at the car.

Its brake lights came on, and it indicated it was parking at the kerb. The driver’s door opened, and out stepped Scott. He ran over, apologising and panicking. My front wheel was bent and buckled. I was shaking.

“Now I’ll have to offer you a lift,” he said.

Back at his flat, I left my bike in the boot of his car, and dripped my way up the two flights of stairs to his front door. He put on soft lighting and the kettle, and took me to his bathroom. He started to run a hot bath, indicating it was for me. He pulled out a large soft towel from the airing cupboard, handed it to me, and left the bathroom with a very guilty look on his face.

Looking down, I could see that my hands and fingers were grazed from their scrape on the kerb, and I realised I wasn’t even going to be able to turn the bath taps off, let alone pull down the zipper on my waterproof jacket. I called for Scott.

He put his head around the door, sheepishly. I just showed him my hands.

“Shit. They need cleaning up. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Let me help you.”

Scott unzipped my anorak to reveal my wet torso, muddy down the left side and goosepimpled with cold. As he slipped it over my shoulders, he let his hands run over my tense nipples, and flashed a look at my eyes to see my reaction. He gently took the jacket over my hands and then led me over to the basin.

I faced the mirror over the basin, and saw Scott press against my back and put his chin on my shoulder. He turned on the taps, filled the sink, and lowered my hand into the water, gently easing out the grit and cleaning off the mud and blood.

Gently, I said, “Thanks” – the first words uttered for a good couple of minutes.

He whispered, “That’s okay” softly into my ear.

I’m sure I could feel his dick swelling against my backside.

After pulling out the plug from the basin, it was obvious I was going to need more help. “Er… this is a bit embarrassing,” I said, nodding toward the bath and showing him my sore hands.

The bubbles were now reaching the brim, and Scott bent over and turned off the taps. He stepped back over to me, and pulled down my waterproof trousers. There I was standing in just my white jockey shorts again, Scott still fully suited. He pulled the trousers over my feet and looking directly at my crotch, said, “This seems a little unfair, let me even things out a bit.”

As I stood there looking direct into his eyes, he threw his jacket in the corner, pulled off his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, ripped off both socks, and stood there in just his trousers.

“Keeping your trousers on?” I asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“I’ve gone commando today,” he said.

“So?”

He undid the top two buttons and let his trousers drop to the floor. Up sprung a semi-hard circumcised dick – long and slim and smooth like the rest of him. He stepped over to me, dropped to his knees, and pulled down my jockey shorts with such thrust that when my semi –hard dick sprung up, it hit him on the chin.

He stood up fully, only an inch apart from me, and our two dicks crossed. He brushed the wet fringe from my eyes (now wet as much with sweat as with rain) and we looked at each other nervously for a second, before both launching confidently into a kiss. He had his hand on my arse, (because of my grazed palms, I had my wrist on his) and we pulled ourselves together closer. Our dicks were now as stiff as cycle pumps.

We sidestepped into the bath, still kissing, and lowered ourselves to our knees. After a minute Scott pulled away and my eyes were shut. From under the bubbles found a soapy sponge. He washed my upper body and then with one hand on my shoulder, he began to wash my dick with the sponge.

My eyes rolled back in my head, and now and then Scott would lean forward and gently bite my lip.

Short sharp bursts of breath indicated that I was gonna come quickly – I was really turned on – and so Scott increased the speed of his soap tugging. When I came, I spurted all over his dick, my mouth gaping wide and tears on my cheek with ecstasy.

As Scott leant back sitting on his heels, he pushed my head down to suck my come off his dick. With my hands behind my back, my head pumped up and down on his long shaft, occasionally guided his hand. Occasionally he gripped his own tight balls. I ran my tongue around his firm head and lick the pre-cum from the eye of his dick. Suddenly Scott would jerk like he was gonna come, and I got ready to suck down his dick juice. But I knew he was gonna come when he whimpered and moaned, resting his hands on my head and kneeling up fully. “Ohhhh!” he exclaimed, as jets of warm come hit the back of my mouth, and I gulped it down.

As I pulled away, a little drop of come rested on the corner of my mouth, and Scott kissed it off. We embraced and fell back in the bath in the same direction. In the hot water we rested a while, grinning inanely and waiting for out dicks to come back to life. To tell the truth, I was wondering how I was going to towel myself off with my sore hands.

Perhaps I’ll end the story one day...