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I entered the code to unlock the door to the storage warehouse with trembling fingers and not a little trepidation. After all, strange as it may seem, the last time I was here, a week ago, I was taken roughly from behind. My anal cherry had been popped by a man whose face I had never seen. I came twice from this man's violations, or perhaps I should say, his advances. I did absolutely nothing to resist him, and while he was confident and forceful, his action was not rape. The moment his fingers closed around my stiffening cock, I gave consent in all but word.
The warehouse door opened and I carried in a single box intended for my storage unit. I knew full well that the box was just for appearances. I was ravished the last time I was here and I had admitted to myself that I was here for more.
I wound through dimly-lit corridors toward my storage space, breathing harder than I should carrying so light a burden. I was in a heightened state of excitement. Would I meet the man who had taken my gay virginity again? He had whispered sweet, dirty nothings in my ear as he ploughed my ass; he told me what he would do to me next time. My underwear was saturated with pre-cum from anticipation of the possibilities. I had been pushing a leaky woody around all morning; it was all I could do to hide my boner from my wife.
I turned the last corner and stood before my unit. I set the box down and fitted the key to the padlock before swinging the door wide open, letting light from the corridor flood the shadowy space. I picked up the box and carried it inside the unit.
There, to one side of the door was the old furniture and some toolboxes; the other side was packed almost to the height of the unit with storage totes. Between these piles stood two storage totes. I vividly remembered last Saturday when my unknown lover bent me over those bins and fucked my brains out. I sighed as I recalled, feeling a little surge in my dick as more pre-cum coated the front of my underwear. Everything in the storage unit was the same as when I'd left the place a week ago... but for one small item.
On top of the two totes was a small white rectangle: a business card. The logo for the storage warehouse itself stood off the card in bold black and red. The manager's name was centred on the card in black bold caps. The name was Tyrone. I held the card in my left hand and tapped the name with my right index finger as my mind raced. Had the manager visited my unit sometime this week and left his card, or was this a calling card left here last week by the man who had taken me?
I turned this over and over again in my mind as I reshuffled and sorted the items in my storage space. I hoped that if I was here at the same day of the week and same time of the day that my lover would find me again. I had everything squared away after about fifteen minutes or so. I wondered if I should wait here a while in case he showed up.
When I had been bent in half and taking my first cock up my ass, the man leaned over me and whispered breathily in my ear, promising that he would take me again, use me like his bitch or any common whore and that I would love it. Even remembering his gravelly whisper sent a shiver down my spine and a spasm through my dick. He had said there would be a next time and I believed him.
I thought long and hard about what to do next. I could wait, passively hoping he would show up here or I could follow up on my one clue: the business card. I was full of jangling nerves. It was one thing to wait quietly in my storage unit, and another to dare myself to set out in search of the man who'd taken my ass as his own personal property.
My sensible mind was not in charge of my deliberations; I was thinking with my dick. I pocketed the card and stepped out of my storage unit. I locked it and started walking with shaky legs toward the front office of the storage company. The place was huge and it took me a few minutes to find my way to the office; it was my first time there, as my wife had been the one to come here and fill out the rental agreement. I paled as I thought of my wife and the way I was trying to betray my marriage vows, but my legs kept churning ever closer to the office. The first time had just happened but this time I was actively seeking out an act of infidelity.
When I arrived, I faced a door with a frosted pane of glass lettered "Office". There was a post-it note with a handwritten message stuck to the glass, saying to knock before entering. I did and was rewarded with a shout from within telling me to enter.
The office was shabby. A service counter separated the public from the office space. The walls were sheathed in seventies-style wood paneling. The commercial carpet could have been any colour to begin with, but it was a faded grey now, trampled with dust. There was one window, partially obscured by a tatty set of blinds. Bulletin boards were covered with memos. A swimsuit calendar was turned to a page three months ago; I wondered if the manager liked that particular woman over this month's model. Overhead, a fan spun around lazily. On the desk, there was a computer with a nineties-style monitor and an open laptop beside it. In one corner of the room, by the ceiling, a camera stared down on the room with its shiny black eye.
A tall, heavy-set man with a grey, receding hairline stepped up to the service counter. He had a large belly but his short sleeves showed strong arms. He had a little stubble and smelled of coffee.
"I'm Tyrone, the manager. Can I help you, Mister?"
I had tried to come up with a plausible reason to come and visit the office as I walked through the corridors, but whatever I came up with deserted me.
"Um," I said.
"Sir?" Tyrone said.
"I, um, wanted to review my contract."
Tyrone's eyes narrowed. "Do you? Is there a problem?"
"Oh, ah, no problem, just... um, my wife signed the contract and I just wanted to..." My words hung in the air.
Tyrone smiled. It was a smarmy, arrogant expression.
"You know what I think? I think you want to review your services with us."
"I do."
"How did you like the servicing you received last Saturday?"
My ears were suddenly hot and I could feel the colour rising in my face. I chickened out. "I... I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, no? Maybe you don't want that kind of service anymore."
The conflict must have been written all over my face. I had no words.
