I was working on deadline when it happened -- my laptop crashed and it wouldn't restart. Damn, I thought, I need to get this proposal out the door tomorrow morning to a client and here it is, 2 pm.
Fighting a growing panic as I kept trying to reboot it, I remembered the computer repair shop a couple of blocks away and rushed over.
"Hi," I said to the young guy at the counter. "I'm in a bit of a rush. My laptop crashed and it won't restart. Would you be able to have a look this afternoon and get it fixed? I'll pay extra."
"Depends on what's wrong with it," he said. "We'll have a look and give you a shout. There'll be a rush fee, though. Just sign this form giving us permission to work on it. Include all your contact info."
"No problem," I said, breathing a sigh of relief. I headed home feeling hopeful.
As the afternoon wore on and no word came, though, my anxiety started to increase. Then, just before 5 pm, my phone rang. It was the computer shop. My laptop was working, and they were going to do some more tests, but it would be ready by closing time at 6 pm.
Relief swept over me.
About 45 minutes later, I headed back to the shop. There was a different guy behind the counter, though. Older, maybe in his late 40s, a little overweight and balding. Not your typical techie, I thought. Maybe he owns the place.
"Mr. Wilcox?" he said, as I approached the counter.
"Yes," I replied. "Here to pick up my laptop."
"It's working just fine now," he said with a smile. "Let me just lock up and then we can settle the bill. Don't want other customers coming in just at closing."
"Great," I said. "Thanks for getting it done so quickly. I'd ask what was wrong with it, but I probably wouldn't understand the answer."
"Ha, we get that a lot," he said, as he returned to the counter.
We settled the bill, including the extra $50 rush fee. I put the laptop in my case and was about to leave when he stopped me.
"Hang on a sec," he said. "When I was doing some tests to make sure everything worked, I was pretty thorough."
"Okay," I said. "Great, I'm just glad it works."
"Well, I had a look at some of your folders and files, including your, um, photos," he said.
I felt my face flush.
"Yep, I saw the ones of you naked on a bed, including a couple with dildos either shoved up your ass or in your mouth," he said. "What the fuck is with that?"
"That's an invasion of my privacy!" I cried.
"Settle the fuck down," he said. "You signed a form allowing us to do our job. I had to, uh, 'test' it."
My heart sank.
"And those bookmarked videos. Whoa, lots of videos of guys sucking and fucking by the looks of it."
"Look, can I just go?"
"Oh, and here's a pro tip for ya," he said. "Don't have a folder that says 'passwords.' That's truly idiotic, though more common than you'd think. I had a look there, too. Nice of you to include the websites and user names. It seems you're a member of a couple of gay dating sites. Quite the profiles you had, I must say. Guy like you get hit on a lot? Can't imagine so."
"Look, whatever," I said. "Thanks for the advice. I need to get home and finish a project."
"Well, now, here's the thing, Mr. Wilcox, or can I just call you Pete?" he said, with a sneer on his face. "I put some of the photos and your contacts list on this USB stick and you're going to do me a big favour or some of the photos get circulated. Follow me."
"Please, man," I cried. "I need to get home."
He held up the USB stick, winked and walked through a door. I dropped my head and slowly followed him. We entered what appeared to be a break room, with a sink and counter, a small fridge, two chairs and a table, and a couple of easy chairs.
He sat in one of the chairs.
"I've never had a blowjob from a guy, but today's your lucky day," he said. "Think of it as extra payment for the rush job on your computer."
"Oh, please, I can't," I cried. "Look, I've never really ever sucked a guy off."
"What?" he said, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "What about those sites you belong to?"
"I, uh, I just look at the profiles and sometimes exchange messages, but have never actually done anything," I said quietly.
"You fuckin' cock tease," he said. "I am really going to enjoy this. Now, fuckin' strip your clothes off and crawl the fuck over here."
I sighed, and slowly peeled off my clothes, placing them on the counter. I felt humiliated, standing naked in front of this guy. I slowly got down on all fours and crawled towards him.
"That's it, Petey, bring that virgin little mouth to me," he said, rising from the chair.
I got to him and looked up. He looked me straight in the eyes as he slowly undid his belt and pants, and then pushed them and his underwear down to his ankles. He sat down again, and spread his knees.
"Get to it," he ordered.
I moved closer. He smelled kind of funky, although not in an unpleasant way weirdly. I put my left hand on one thigh and took his flaccid cock in my right and leaned in. Slowly, I took his cock in my mouth. The texture was different, almost silky. Like nothing I'd experienced. Not at all like the dildos I sucked on to get my rocks off.
"Swirl your tongue around," he said. "And don't forget to suck. And play with my balls...gently."
For the next couple of minutes, I continued swirling my tongue around, licking his piss slit and gently massaging his balls. In no time, he was hard as a rock. Thankfully, it wasn't a huge cock and I could get all of it in my mouth. Like a pro.
"Looks like practicing on those dildos are paying dividends...for me," he said with a chuckle. "Now lick the shaft and then work that tongue over my balls."
I did as I was told. I could feel my own cock starting to stir and get hard. I was enjoying servicing this guy in this scummy little room at a computer repair shop. I felt like a slut. Suddenly, he grabbed my head and started thrusting in and out of my mouth with abandon. I grabbed his legs to hang on as he continued pounding, with spit and drool flying out of my mouth. And then I felt it: the first spray of cum hit my throat, and then another and another and another until he was empty. Instinctively, I swallowed it. It tastes good, I thought to myself. A little salty, but good.
"There, now you're a real faggot cocksucker," he said, pulling out. "Well, by the look of things you enjoyed it."
My cock was still hard. I felt my face redden again.
"Why don't you go home and jerk off, Petey," he said, with a chuckle. "Maybe shove something up your ass, too."
I got dressed and grabbed my laptop. We walked to the front door and he unlocked it. I headed home as quickly as I could.