An adult stories – Volunteer Work by maslowsrazor,maslowsrazor After a few months at my office job, I had already grown restless and bored. The work was easy enough, but I felt bogged down by my coworkers, stodgy men in their midlife crisis years. A 16-month spell of unemployment after graduation was enough to make me never want to look for jobs again, so I cast about randomly for something off the clock to pass the evenings, besides languishing on the couch with my boyfriend, something that would make me feel that “fulfilled” feeling that some people (like my boyfriend) claimed to get from their work. Spanish lessons? Guitar? The gym?
My childhood friend was a grad student at the time, and suggested a program that matched recent graduates with college seniors. Help with resumes and all that. It sounded like a nice way to talk with people closer to my age, and there was a chapter in my city at University of A.
Truth be told, it was a more prestigious one than my alma mater, which was just my state college, but the job market was rough and any help was probably better than nothing. I remembered the out-of-touch career counselors at my school suggesting Microsoft Office certifications to boost my chances. Yeah right. After a few emails back and forth with the local organizer, I got my first match.
I was surprised to actually recognize him a bit: Rory B. He was a promising student athlete in men’s gymnastics who had won medals here and there; I had seen him mentioned in the local news as an Olympic hopeful. I searched his name and found the article photos. He smiled with the air of someone with infinite possibilities ahead, awkward standing in front of the camera but perfectly at home on the parallel bars and what have you.
On the phone, he seemed a little shy, nervously chatty. I suggested a diner on campus as our meeting point, and we agreed on tomorrow at 5:30.
I hopped on the train the next day after work, but it not being my usual route, I didn’t realize there was construction at the stop I needed to get off at. I was forced to take a bus transfer, and arrived over half an hour late. Of course, I warned Rory over text, but I still felt guilty. When I sat down, he had already eaten something and was working on some assignment.
Rory’s resume wasn’t awful, but being a student athlete he didn’t have much time for career-related extracurriculars. I helped him reformat the document and write up some jobs he’d had to make them sound a bit more beefy, and we were in the middle of last summer’s internship when a cafe employee began pointedly sweeping the floor around us.
I felt bad. We usually got one session with each student, and there was more work to do. It was my fault we got cut short.
“Listen, I can stay a little longer if you’re free.”
“Oh, yeah, okay! Um, we could go to my place if that’s cool with you. It’s closer than the library.”
His place was a small studio, sparsely furnished with a couch, a foldout presumably, TV, and desk. Clothes were folded in collapsing towers next to the TV and a plastic garbage can over-full of Chipotle containers and energy drink cans moldered in the kitchen area, which looked mostly unused. He hung his medals off a drawer knob on the desk. He brought a foldout chair in from the courtyard for me to sit on and rummaged through the fridge for a drink to offer me. He seemed a bit flustered from exposing his room to a woman he’d just met, and occupied himself by fussing.
“You want a beer? Sorry, I have beer, Monster, or tap water.”
“I could use a beer. Thanks.”
As he popped open bottles for the two of us, I creaked into my lawn chair. Really there wasn’t much else to do, and I wrote down some suggestions with the laptop on my lap while he cleared the desk of papers and drink cans. We wrapped up the resume by the time he finished his beer, so not long. I was still about halfway through my first, but thanks to my medication, I felt a bit tipsy despite the small amount.
“So, what’s your job like? Like, not to be like, are you hiring right now but you work at Company C right?” Rory spoke over his shoulder as he grabbed another beer out of the fridge. Company C was the most prominent employer of our field in the city.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s a cool place. Chill job, good pay, like, I know I’m lucky.” Shutting the laptop, I got up from the folding chair and sat on the marginally more comfortable couch, which was really more like a loveseat. “I’ll be real with you, it’s boring, but I like the work. Like it’s cool to use what you learn in school or whatever.”
“You sound enthusiastic,” he said, smiling wryly.
“I wouldn’t say I’m burnt out, but it’s not exactly something I love. I dunno, like I do this cuz I just wanna talk to someone my age once in a while.” Well, aside from my boyfriend. For some reason I didn’t want to mention him.
We chatted about the abysmal state of the job market for a while, although in the back of my mind I wondered how he could think about something like that when the Olympics were coming up that year. Suddenly, I sensed how much time had passed and glanced at my phone – 11. Shit. The bus transfer I needed had stopped running. And it was Friday night on a college campus, so a rideshare was obscenely expensive.
I texted my boyfriend asking for a ride, but he didn’t respond, probably out drinking with his friends like he usually did on Fridays I was busy.
“Oh, fuck.” Rory had seen the time too. “Uh, sorry I kept you so late.”
Through the haze of a whopping two and a half beers, I realized my leg was touching him. I shifted away, and with the movement I saw him realize my leg had been touching him.
I mean, I had a grown up job. I could spare the forty dollars for a rideshare. I could go home.
“Could I stay over?”
He stared at me. Clearly, he did not have a spare bed. He barely even had a spare chair. The silence would have been deafening if not for the frat party starting down the block. As it was, the noise made the moment that passed seem that much longer.
“Sure.”
I jumped up and he began the process of pulling out the couch, throwing a ratty blanket and two worn (but thankfully unstained) pillows on the floor. We avoided eye contact as I walked to the bathroom. I hurriedly washed my face and relieved myself. I also removed my bra.
When I came back he was sitting on the bed. If he was flustered before he was on fire now. I dropped the bra on the floor. Maybe that was a bit much.
“Um, sorry about all this,” he muttered, glancing at me. Okay, the bra had really made a difference. He hurriedly turned away from me and walked the long way around the room to the bathroom. I sat on the bed waiting for I don’t know what while listening to him pee in sporadic bursts. He washed up for bed while I checked my phone, not really paying attention to anything on it. I began to unbutton my blouse to the beige tank top I wore underneath.
Rory looked a little more composed when he finished up in the bathroom, clearly having come to terms with the situation while he tamed his penis enough to finish urinating. He stood in the doorway and looked at me, smiling shyly. “You’re cute.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve never been with an older girl.”
“Me neither.”
He laughed and took his shirt and pants off, throwing them next to my discarded bra and blouse. He was ridiculously shredded. I’d never been with someone who was fit like that. It was my turn to be nervous.
I laid down facing the back of the futon and he spooned behind me. I could feel his cock brush against my ass.
“I’m going to take my pants off,” I said, shimmying them off my legs and toeing them off the side of the couch. I rolled over and he brought me in for a kiss that tasted like beer and spearmint.
As we kissed his hands enclosed my waist. I rolled my tank top down, guiding his hands over my tits. He closed his eyes to get a better feel.
“I fucking love these.”
“Yeah? You fucking love them?”
“Yes, fuck, they’re so big.”
“Suck on them.”
He moved his mouth to my left breast, mouthing my hard nipple, enjoying as they sprung back at his sucking lips. His hand groped the other one, forcing the soft fat flesh between his thickly calloused fingers.
While he worked my breasts, I reached my hands around his back, feeling the hard ropes of muscle down his back and pebbled spine. His lower back was blessed with a trough deep enough to drink out of, and as he moved to kiss me again I traced it down to his peach-fuzz ass. He moaned when I took his ass in my hands, grinding my thigh against his drooling cock. I maneuvered on top of him, pressing his shoulder against the flattened pillows, and threw the blanket back so I could get a better look at him.
He was magnificent, of course, tiny hard nipples capping a chest Michelangelo would have begged to sculpt. A fine trail of hair drew the eye down his abs to a lightly cropped halo surrounding his cock… “Holy shit!”
The tip of his penis was pulsating, pumping out precome that flowed off his hip in streams that deltaed into a pool the mattress below.
“Sorry, fuck. Um, it’s a lot, I know, sorry.” He reached down to wipe the liquid off his leg.
“No! Oh my god. No, I love it. It’s amazing.” I lapped at a sluice of pre on his thigh. It tasted heavenly, of salt and musk and sweat. “I love pre.”
“Oh.” He smiled. Clearly this was good for him. “You gonna clean it up?”
I licked him clean, slowly approaching the base of his cock. He inhaled sharply when I brushed against his tip, precipitating a thick drop of pre that I caught with my tongue. We made eye contact as I swallowed. I nearly came just from that. At that point, I was done teasing and necked his cock as hard as I could. He spasmed and whined, entwining his hands in my hair as he pushed himself even further down my throat, so far I could only feel and not taste the flood of pre that fell directly into my waiting esophagus.
After a few minutes of cocksucking, more kissing, groping, and moaning, he was clearly about ready to burst. I was too. He threw me face first against the lumpy frame of a mattress and lined my dripping pussy against his dripping cock.
The anticipation was too much and I moaned, really nearly screamed, into the futon. “Please, fuck, oh my god. Fuck me!” He proceeded to torture me, rubbing my oversensitized clit with one hand while gliding his cockhead back and forth over my sloppy-wet thighs and pussylips.
“Aaagghhh…” I could feel pressure building. I was so close to cumming, leaning into the rhythm as he alternated between rubbing on my clit and pussy, when without warning Rory’s cock roved past the boundary of my taint – accidentally? – and the lip of his cockhead caught my asshole.
“Fuck!” I came, my entire body collapsing onto the bed shuddering.
“Oh!” he said softly. He wasn’t expecting that I guess. “You want this?”
I did. I had been toying with anal for a while now, and masturbated with a finger – or two – in my asshole often. But I’d never brought it up with my boyfriend. I was scared it was a lot for him – he was a germaphobe, impatient, and didn’t like extended foreplay, so I doubted he would be interested in sex that involved preparation. Of course, it would be ridiculous to start now, with no prep whatsoever, someone I had just met, in a stranger’s futon –
“Yes, oh my god, yes.”
He exhaled. I looked back and he wore a stunned smile. I was stunned myself, and my thoughts raced as he reached for a bottle of lotion tucked in the corner behind the futon.
My asshole was slippery to start with, lubricated with our combined excitement, and I ventured a finger in as he generously lotioned his cock.
“Not gonna lie, this isn’t how I thought all this would go,” he said, smirking a bit.
“Me either,” I breathed.
“You need some help with that?”
“Sure.”
His thicker finger took a bit of extra lube to enter my asshole. I rubbed my clit with my left hand, feeling around my asshole with my other hand as he slowly pumped his finger in and out, my breathing muffled and labored as I braced my shoulder against the back of the couch.
“You’re so fucking tight.”
“I’m gonna cum.”
“Again?”
“Ughhhhh.”
“You’re dripping.”
As he said it, I felt the rivulet of cum drip down my leg – just like his had before and was probably still doing now.
“Another one.”
“Sure?”
“Please.”
The second finger was an ordeal. Each rough juncture of his knuckles took the breath out of me, as I was already lightly suffocated against the back of the futon. I rolled over and we took a break as he tongued my clit, working the finger already inside me against the wall of my asshole. It was surreal feeling him inside me, something I’d never felt from another person, moving independently of me, with his own heat and his own rhythm. Looking down, I could see a foreshortened version of the muscular back I’d fondled earlier, working in concert with his tongue against me, his finger inside.
“I’m ready.”
“Okay.”
Rory lingered on my pussy, tasting the steady flow of cum before moving south to my asshole. That was new. The feeling was like somewhere between a soft tickle and an itch I’d never known to scratch before, and with the pleasant surprise of it all his finger slipped in.
“Aaaagh.”
He held still as I took it in, his two fingers the most I’d ever taken. My hand returned to my clit, rubbing the base of my thumb deliciously against the entire drenched length of my clit and pussy.
“Put your fingers in. I want you to feel me.”
Jesus. “Oh my god.” The pressure against my inner wall was another new sensation, a sense of being filled beyond full.
“Please fuck me.”
“Oh?”
“I need cock.”
“Yeah?”
“Please. Please?”
I whined when he slid his fingers out of my asshole, and groaned when his cock refilled me. How could his cock fit inside my asshole so perfectly? What were the odds?
All thought stopped as he moved in and out, and the sensation overtook everything. I woke from a haze in a sopping pile of blanket which Rory had attempted to use to mop up our collected stains. He was coming back from the bathroom with a damp hand towel.
“Sorry, this is all I have. Other towel’s in the wash.”
“We shouldn’t have done that.”
His face fell in horror. Oops. Not what I meant.
“I still have to sleep here. I ruined your mattress.”
He collapsed on the bed in relief. “It’s fine. There’s a cover under it.”
I grinned.