Sucking Dick At My First Job 03: Risky Friskiness (Patreon)

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Chapter 3: Risky Friskiness

He shut the water off and didn't dry his hands.

"Walk-in," he said, tilting his head toward the back hallway once.

My dick hardened fast enough to hurt, and I was already halfway through the yes in my head before my mouth did anything.

"He's right there," I said. "The door's unlocked. He's gonna come back in like five minutes."

Dominic shrugged and put the pan on the drying rack.

"So we've got five minutes then," he said.

I dropped my rag on the prep table.

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I got in first and he came in behind me and pulled the door closed. It didn't latch. It never latched unless you put your shoulder into it, and there was a gap at the frame you could have slid a spatula through.

He backed up against the shelving between the dough trays and the sauce cases, facing the door, and undid his belt while I was still getting down. His pants and briefs came to his thighs in one shove. I went to my knees on the tile in front of him with my apron still tied on and my back to the door, and I put my hand up into his hair on the first pull, because I'd figured out by then that he liked that, and because I wanted my hand there.

He was already mostly hard. I took him in wet and got sloppy with it right away, both hands on his hips, feeling the meat of his ass against my fingers, my lips sucking hard as I swallowed his shaft, my forehead almost against his stomach. He put his palm flat on the back of my skull and held it there loosely, letting me set the pace this time, which only lasted for a few seconds before he pushed me down hard, like usual.

I had my eyes shut with my nose in him when Tyler's voice came down the back hallway.

"Yo, where's the extra mozz?" he said loudly, knowing we must be nearby. "The one under the makeline's like empty."

I stopped dead with my mouth full of cock and my jaw locked open around it, Dom's hand holding me in place. Tyler wasn't far, and his shoes were coming closer down the hallway. 

On top of that, out past the hallway, a truck engine rattled in the back lot and took a second to shut off, and then the metal door by the office, the one with the bad closer that bangs.

The owner. 

After close-out hours, which he never did. And now he had both feet inside the building.

Dominic didn't pull out. He didn't push me off and yank his pants up, and he didn't let me come up either. His hand went from holding my head to gripping the back of it tightly, his fingers closed in my hair, and he held me down on him with several inches in my throat and my nose pressed into the hair at his base. I gagged once, quietly, my back tensing up, and his grip tightened through it.

My eyes streamed. I was attempting to breathe through my nose in short pulls against his stomach and what little air I was getting was all him.

And I was harder than I had ever been. 

My jeans had my dick bent sideways and pinned and it throbbed hard enough that it hurt. I held myself, squeezing desperately, trying to relieve the pressure. There was the new kid eight feet away with a rag, and the boss man twenty feet away, and my mouth was full of my shift "cool guy" skater man shift leader. My heart slammed and my dick throbbed.

Dominic's thigh muscles were solid under my hands. He wasn't shaking.

Tyler's shoes stopped right outside.

"Dom? You in the cooler?"

Dominic reached sideways along the shelf. He didn't move his hips and he didn't move his hand off my head. His arm went up and over behind me and came back down with a case of mozzarella against his side, and then he got two fingers on the edge of the door and pulled it open about six inches, wide enough for a cheese case and not wide enough for anybody in that hallway to see the floor.

"Here," he said, and pushed the case out through the gap.

I heard Tyler take it. The weight of it came off the door frame and the door swung back a couple inches and stopped.

"There's two more behind the sauce if you go through that," Dominic said, in a flat voice. "But don't use them until this one is empty. Check the expiration dates."

It was crazy how on top of his shit he was, even in the most insane moments. My throat clamped around him while he said it and his hips still hadn't shifted a quarter inch.

"Cool. You want me to date it?"

"Date it and rotate the old one up front."

And then the other voice, behind Tyler's, close enough to make me tense up even more.

"Dominic. You got the labor sheet from this week?"

"It's in the binder on the desk," Dominic said. "Under the delivery slips."

"I looked in the binder."

"It's under the slips. There's a yellow one."

"All right."

While he was talking about work stuff with the boss, his fingers closed harder in my hair instead of easing off, and he pushed me down another half inch, letting me pull back for a second, then starting an up and down rhythm on my head. He was ready to continue and move toward his orgasm now. My eyes rolled and I made no sound at all because there was no air in me to make one with.

Both sets of shoes went back up the hallway. The office door clicked.

Dominic put two fingers on the inside edge of the walk-in door and pulled it shut.

Then my body caught up with me all at once. I shook from the knees up, my thighs jumping against the tile, my hands trembling where they held onto his hips, and the shaking had nothing to do with the cold in there. I couldn't have stood up. There was a high sound ringing in my ears. I stayed on him and hung my whole weight off my jaw and I was so hard it was genuinely painful, and at some point in the last minute the fear and the hard-on had become one and the same.

He didn't say anything. He put his other hand on my head and took it over.

He went fast. Faster than he ever had, no build to it, straight into ramming with both hands locked over my ears and his hips punching forward off the shelf. 

He stopped with my nose buried against his stomach and held me down there, all the way in.

"Pull your pants down," he said.

I couldn't say anything with my throat full, so I squeezed his thighs, and he lifted one hand off my ear like he knew I hadn't caught it.

"Your pants. Down. I wanna see your ass from above."

I got my hands off him and fumbled my button open, still kneeling, still on him, and shoved my jeans and my underwear down to my knees in two pulls. The cold in there hit my bare ass instantly. My dick sprang free under the apron, and just not being pinned sideways anymore nearly finished me by itself.

He bent forward over the top of me and looked down along my back. I could feel exactly what he was seeing, me folded over on my knees on the tile, jeans bunched at my knees, my ass bare and round and pointed straight at that door that didn't latch. Anyone who pulled it open would get that view first.

"Yeah," he said above me. "That's my ass. You're my good boy."

His hands came back down over my ears and he started ramming again, harder now, his chin dropped, watching my ass bounce with every push he gave my throat.

The dough trays rattled behind him. My throat gave up on resisting anything and I let it happen with spit running down my chin and my eyes soaking my face, and I could hear the wet sound of it in that little metal room like it was being broadcast.

He lasted maybe a minute. His thighs locked under my palms and he pulled me all the way in and held me flush and then he squirted, pumping into my throat in hard pulses while he pressed my nose into his stomach. He made one sound the whole time, a short grunt through his teeth. Then nothing.

He held me there a few seconds after. I felt him twitch twice more against my tongue.

When he opened his hands I came off and sat back on my heels, coughing into my wrist, my shirt soaked through down the front. It wasn't the first time that had happened, but it was the first time that there were other people around. I felt so vulnerable. He got his briefs and his pants up and got the belt buckled.

He rolled his shoulders as he looked down at me on the tile.

"Fifteen minutes on the ovens," he said. "Go check that back one, it's running hot."

I stayed on my knees in there for another minute after the door shut behind him, getting my legs back under me. Then I pulled my pants up, wiped down the tile where I'd been, and did my fifteen minutes on the ovens, my dick never going down. 

He was right about the back one. It was running hot, and I turned it down and stood in front of it for a while, letting the heat dry my face out.

I scrubbed my hands and splashed cold water on my eyes at the mop sink, and it didn't help. They were pink all around the edges and glassy, and my eyelids were puffed up like I'd been crying, or maybe smoking a ton of weed. But there was nothing to do about it.

I was coming up the hallway when the office door opened and the owner stepped out with his keys and his sunglasses, and his belly nearly bumped me in that narrow spot. He stopped and looked at my face.

"You sleeping okay, kid?" he said. "Your eyes are all red."

"Flour got in them," I said, surprised that I made up a believable excuse on the spot like that. "I rubbed them too hard."

He kept looking at me for a second, his mustache shifting like he was chewing on something. "Drink more water. You're young, you think you don't need sleep. You need sleep."

Dominic came past us with the labor binder under his arm and didn't stop walking. "He's the best worker in this building," he said, and clapped me on the shoulder blade on his way by. "Don't scare him off." Then he was up front, saying something to Tyler about the soda cooler.

"That's what I like to hear," the owner said. He pointed at me with his keys, said "Good," and then left out the bad door by the office, and his engine started up in the back lot and faded off.

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Dominic untied his apron a few minutes later and hung it on the hook by the office. He grabbed his hoodie off the chair and came out front with his keys already in his hand.

"I'm out," he said. "You're closing."

"Me?"

"You know where everything is." He pushed the front door open with his back, looking at Tyler, then back at me. "I think you can handle it."

And then it was Tyler and me and an empty lobby for the last stretch of the night. Nothing in the oven, no tickets, nobody parking outside. Tyler had decided to restock the topping containers on the makeline, which were not empty, so mostly he was pouring cups of olives on top of fuller cups of olives while he ranted about the candy shop nearby and a guy in there who had apparently disrespected him over a coupon. I wiped the counter and gave him the occasional "uh huh." My jaw still ached, in the way that I liked. 

But I hated Tyler, and I missed Dom.

He shook a container of jalapeños level and clicked a lid on it. Then, with no shift in his voice at all, he said, "Hey, what were you and Dom doing in the walk-in earlier?"

I froze with my rag flat on the counter.

"It took kind of a while," he said. "I came back for the cheese and you guys were still in there." 

He wasn't even looking at me. He was peeling the lid off another container.

"Stocking," I said.

"Ah," he said, and turned back to the olives.

Then, while he topped off a full cup, in the most innocent voice possible, he added, "Sounded more like a blowjob."