The dough was soft and stuck to my hands. I added some flour from the open container beside me, continuing to knead it. The brick ovens behind me threw heat out carelessly, bathing my back in their warmth. I wiped my brow with the back of my forearm as I tried not to drip into the dough. Some perspiration in the soon-to-be crust was inevitable, but, as they say, the best bread contains the sweat of its maker. I thickened it until it was about the right consistency, then spread it out some, readying it. I tossed it into the air, and it swirled around gracefully as I caught it in my hands, never letting it stop moving in circles. This was my favorite part. When it was done, I placed it onto a long handled pizza shovel, as I called it, and added the toppings the customer had requested.
"Another large pepperoni," the boy I had hired to work the register called back as I pushed the laden dough off into the oven. He was not the most qualified person that had applied for the job when I offered it, but then, that depended on which qualifications were considered. Of course, I had interviewed the whole five applicants, all teenagers, and two of whom were female. I had discarded their chances as soon as I saw them, not that they knew that. I started with another pile of flour. Of the other three, two were in high school, looking for summer jobs. The other was a college kid, also looking for summer work. The last, Drew, was my choice. He was pale skinned and fairly thin, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. He had looked at me that day with lust in those eyes, and I had laughed inside. Perfect.
The direct heat from the oven singed my hands as I pushed the second pizza into the oven next to the first. Business inside was slow, and no more orders had come yet, so I took a seat outside the hot kitchen at an empty table. The chatter in the shop was gentle, and not many tables carried customers. As it turned out, this was not the place for people to be at eleven at night. Customers hardly came in any more, anyway, preferring delivery.
"Oh, well," I thought. "Business is business." I glanced over at the boy as he came out from behind the counter, his shirt stuck to his body from the heat of the ovens. His bubble butt bounced seductively as he walked to another empty table. I got to stare at him all day. I could tell he tried to work out, as his whole body was well-built, but it was lean and efficient looking. Not like Bruce's or mine, whose muscles bulged out from our skin, though Bruce's much more than mine. Maybe Drew was a swimmer. His round butt was not very aerodynamic, I thought, not that it bothered me any. I remembered the taxi driver from three nights ago, trying to decide whose body I liked more. The dark, rippling burliness of the cab driver's tanned body, or this boy's thinner, lighter frame. My eyes meandered down his thin side, across his trim thighs, and along his supple calves, then back up to his streaked mop, which was combed to the side. His head turned toward me, and I pretended to stare at the picture on the wall behind him. I saw his cheeks redden out of the corner of my eye. Suppressing a smile, I turned my head to the door. His shyness only made me want him more.
I watched as the people inside left, realizing the pizzas in the oven must have been from a phone call. My delivery boy would be returning soon to take them to the customers. I rubbed my cheek with my hand, my shaven face smooth on my fingers. Too smooth. I was still covered in flour, and I had just transferred it to my face. The boy was smiling, his head forward. As I tried to wipe it away with my wrist, the bell above the door clanged quietly. Looking up, I saw that it was none other than the driver from Saturday night, his taxi parked outside. I gave my face one more quick rub and returned behind the counter to the kitchen, excitement coursing through my veins. The boy followed, continuing to the register.
I saw Bruce approach through the large hole in the partial wall that separated the kitchen from the dining area, noticing he had not shaven since our recent encounter. His dark stubble only enhanced his masculine face. He glanced at me, his dark, lustful eyes shining. He made me unbelievably horny.
"How can I help you, sir?" Drew's question pierced the air. Bruce looked at him, almost surprised. I watched him take the boy in, and he did not bother to hide what he was doing. His eyes covered every part of the boy visible over the counter, and he even tilted his head slightly to see farther down. The boy shied away from him, embarrassed.
"Hmm..." Bruce's deep, rich voice rumbled as he looked past him into the kitchen. "Nice kid you got here." He caught my eyes in his and grinned. No modesty, I thought, none whatsoever. Still, I could not help but become aroused at his display, becoming even more excited because of his approval of Drew. Just then, the bell clanged again. I hurriedly moved to the oven that had the two pizzas, grabbing a wooden shovel. I hoped my apron would cover the bulge in my pants. I could feel his eyes on me. He just waited there, knowing I could not resist him, as I put the pizzas in boxes and gave them to the delivery boy who had just come in. I handed the deliverer a slip with the addresses and almost pushed him out the door, flipping the sign to Closed as I did so.
Drew was rifling through his tip cup, and he gave me a puzzled look as I surveyed Bruce, the muscular man now leaning against the counter, facing me. He wore black again today, his shirt skin tight, and jeans pulled taught over his thick legs. His pecs bulged against his shirt, and the muscles of his arms stretched the short, black sleeves. His brown eyes glinted at me under his brow. My yearning for him burned, only fueled at the thought of Drew being there. The windows were frosted to above eye level, the door included. I hoped it would protect from wandering eyes on the street. The pressure in my groin increased.
"Umm, sir?" Drew managed to say, confused. I ignored him, my attention wrapped up in Bruce's beautiful body. His cavernous chest pulsed with a brief chuckle. He just stood there against the counter, facing me, with one leg raised slightly, his foot against the wall behind him. I could not wait much longer.
I strode toward him, pulling my shirt over my head and throwing it onto a nearby table, exposing my toned, hairless chest. Drew's breath caught, and change clattered onto the floor.
Bruce's lips met mine, and my tongue drove straight into his mouth. His eyes widened, then relaxed again, and he pressed his wet mouth muscle against mine. Our tongues danced around each other, pushing and gliding past one another, and our saliva mixed. I reached behind him and grabbed his firm butt with both hands, squeezing it through the jeans. I pressed myself against him, and him me, our abs and torsos grinding together, his body hot on mine. His hands were on my shoulder blades, pulling me closer. I could feel his dick hardening against my leg.
Drew had not moved, so I reached behind Bruce and brushed my hand on his cheek, tearing my face from the man's for a moment and looking Drew straight in the eye. He turned pale, and I thought he was going to pass out right there. Bruce licked my cheek, moving his tongue slowly up from my jawline to under my eye. I put mine back in his mouth, tasting flour. Dammit.
My hand returned to his back, then worked its way to the lining of his pants over his well defined muscles. I found the edge of his shirt and pulled. He raised his arms as I pulled it over his head and tossed it to the side. He went to lower them again, but I held the right one up with my left arm, my hand just under his elbow. His other fell to my ass. I licked my way down his neck, then across his shoulder to his armpit. He wore no deodorant, but must have showered recently, as the sweat was fresh. His smell filled my nostrils. I licked his underarm hair as he had licked my cheek, slowly and from the bottom to the top. The hairs tickled my tongue, and I tasted his delicious, salty taste.
The tops of my feet tickled. I glanced down, only to see Drew had recovered and was untying my shoe. I knew he wanted me. I worked my way over to Bruce's nipple, ringing the pad with my tongue. I let his arm drop, and his hand traced a line up my thigh to my groin, where it messaged the cock that raged against my jeans. I shrugged my shoes off with some help, then grasped at the muscles over his shoulder blades, pushing him against me with one hand, still squeezing his butt cheek with the other. I loved the feel of his ass. So firm and round...I moved to the front of his pants to undo his zipper even as he did to me. I nibbled at his nipple with my teeth, still messing with my tongue. He groaned. A moment later, he shifted as Drew pulled off his shoes, then raised his hands to play with my own erect nipples, giving up on my pants for the time being. I finally got his jeans unbuttoned and the zipper down, and I proceeded to pull his loosened pants down around his ass so I could touch his cheeks directly.
Drew was fumbling with my pants button from behind me, and got it undone, pulling them down to my ankles. He left my underwear, probably out of some last semblance of formality. Oh, well, I thought. Half my dick stuck out of the leg hole, as usual. I pulled my hands off Bruce's behind and struggled out of my boxer briefs. Drew seized the chance and moved between us, sinking to his knees. I saw that he was completely naked. I had never seen him without a shirt before, and it was better than I had imagined. The ideal little muscle twink, I thought, with pale skin and lean muscularity, he was a little on the lanky side. His medium-sized cock throbbed between his legs as he situated himself between us. I did not have long to stare, however, as he wrapped his fists and hot, wet mouth around my shaft and sent my eyes rolling back into my head.
