Loaded Summer - Part 8 (Patreon)

Everyone in this story is 18+

I am still standing in the kitchen of the Dewitt villa when Brandon’s voice crackles through the earpiece.

“Will. I need the key to the utility closet. Now.”

I look over at Marco, who is still wiping the same counter in slow circles with the wrong cloth.

“Finish up in here, then go start on the next villa. It’s empty. I’ll come check on you after I help Brandon with something.”

Marco nods without looking up. “Okay.”

I leave the cart and head down the path toward the staff utility closet near the back of the main building. When I get there Brandon is already waiting, key in hand. He unlocks the door himself and pulls it open.

“Bro, I thought you needed the key?”

“Get in here. I have something important.”

He grabs my arm and drags me inside, then shuts the door hard behind us. The small space smells like bleach and old cardboard. Brandon turns to face me and points straight down at the front of his khaki shorts. The thick outline of his obvious hard-on is pressed hard against the fabric, the head clearly marked where it strains near the zipper.

“Bro, you gotta help me. I saw Nova doing yoga and fucking squats by the pool. My little Bran won’t go down.”

I stare at the bulge for a second. “You called me here to empty your nuts? Can’t you go jerk off somewhere?”

“It’s much better with your mouth. Come on.”

“We’re at work.”

Brandon’s eyes drop to the front of my own shorts. “You’re hard too.”

I glance down. He’s right. The khaki is tented and tight across the head of my dick. I hadn’t even noticed how bad it had gotten after everything with Brock.

“Come on,” Brandon says, already pushing his shorts down. “I will do you after, I swear. Just help me.”

I let out a short breath. “For fuck’s sake. Fine. But be quick. We’re at work. If Felix catches us he’d fire us.”

Brandon kicks his shorts and boxers the rest of the way off. His hardness springs up and already leaking. “Or fuck us. I bet he’s gay.”

I drop to my knees on the concrete floor. “You think so?”

“The way he looks at us, like he wants to boss us around and then fuck us. Yeah, I’m sure he’s gay as fuck.”

I open my mouth. Brandon steps forward and shoves the thick head past my lips in one smooth push.

The head is already wet and I can taste the sharp salt of his precum as it slides over my tongue. He does not give me time to adjust. His hand lands on the back of my head and he starts thrusting, short and urgent, hips snapping forward like he is racing a clock.

His heavy sack swing with every movement and slap against my chin, damp with sweat. The smell of him is strong this close, warm skin and the leftover heat from standing in the sun. I keep my mouth open and let him use it. Spit starts running down my chin and dripping onto the concrete. The wet sounds are loud in the small closet.

Brandon’s breathing gets shorter. His grip tightens in my hair.

“Fuck, I’m close. Suck it harder.”

He shoves in deep and holds there. His cock swells against my tongue and then he starts pumping. Thick flows of jizz flood my mouth. There is a lot of it. Some of it spills past my lips and runs down my chin before I can swallow. He keeps twitching and feeding me more nut until the last weak pulses fade.

He pulls out with a wet sound and immediately reaches for his shorts. He tugs them up, tucks his still-shiny cock away, and zips up like the whole thing is already over.

I am still on my knees, mouth full of the taste of him, my own dick throbbing hard inside my khakis.

“What about me?”

Brandon glances down at me like he almost forgot. “Oh yeah. Okay, whip it out then. Be quick, we don’t have all day.”

I stand up and shove my shorts and boxers down just far enough. My cock comes free with a wet slap, already leaking. Brandon spits into his palm and wraps his hand around me. The stroke is fast and mechanical, no real rhythm or care, just up and down like he is clocking out of a task. His eyes keep flicking toward the door.

The pressure builds fast anyway. My hips start to push into his fist.

“I’m gonna nut soon. Take it in your mouth?” I ask, voice rough.

Brandon does not even look at me. He reaches over, grabs the small trash can from the corner, and sets it on the floor between us.

“Just aim into it.”

I close my eyes and let go. The orgasm hits hard and messy. Thick strings of cum shoot into the trash can while Brandon keeps milking me through it with that same detached pace. When the last drops fall he lets go, wipes his hand on the front of my polo without comment, and steps past me toward the door.

The latch clicks shut behind him. I am left standing there with my shorts around my thighs, the taste of his cum still in my mouth, and the trash can sitting on the floor between my feet.

I peel the stained polo off and drop it on the floor of the closet. The front is damp where Brandon wiped his hand across it. I figure I can make it to the laundry room for a fresh uniform without running into anyone. Brandon is already gone.

I step out into the hallway shirtless and almost walk straight into Felix.

He stops and looks me up and down. “Will, why are you shirtless…?”