It was funny, but I’d wondered how I was gonna manage sleepin’ in a bed with someone else, but now that I was back to a single bed, already I missed holding Rob or being held in his arms. It had taken us two hours to move everything of Henry’s into Rob’s room and everything of mine, such as it was, into Sammy’s room. No sooner were we done, than Fran appeared as if by magic with all of my new clothes, freshly washed and dried. I made quick work of putting everything away. It turned out that getting ready for a major snowstorm meant making sure we had ample supplies in the house, but more importantly, it meant being ready in the event we needed to evacuate. The most significant risk from a storm wasn’t the snow itself but flooding. We all packed bugout bags so we’d have enough clothes and toiletries to last us a week if we had to take shelter in the high school. By the time we finished, it was quite late in the evening. I had to get up early to go with Rob to work for an interview, and Sammy had to get up even earlier to go to school. Getting ready for bed was a bit of an acrobatic dance as we took turns at the sink and toilet, washing up and brushing our teeth.
When I finished up in the bathroom, I headed back to the bedroom and found Sammy already in his bed, a sheet and blanket draped over his lower body with his torso exposed. He was propped up on one elbow and looking down at his phone but wasn’t tapping on it and appeared to be reading something. He had long sideburns that merged into a thin line of hair that went halfway down his jaw, stopping short of his chin. I wasn’t sure if you’d call them long sideburns or a partial beard. He had a pencil-thin mustache with just enough hair to let you know it was there. His skin was a light-bronze color, typical of Latino men.
Partially exposed as he was and propped up on one elbow, he was incredibly sexy, and I couldn’t help but stare at him for a minute when I entered our bedroom. Since I didn’t want to be obvious, I walked fully into the room and closed the door behind me. I was still dressed in shorts, so I removed them and put them away, hanging my belt in the closet. I wasn’t sure if Sammy was wearing anything under the covers, but I figured that since I had a bed of my own, there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t sleep in the nude, so I dropped my boxers to the floor, stepped out of them, bent over to pick them up and threw them in the laundry hamper. I couldn’t help but notice that Sammy was surreptitiously watching me the whole time.
I pulled back the covers and sat down on the edge of the bed when Sammy looked up at me and said, “Hey, J.J. I usually read a bit before going to sleep if you don’t mind, and you’re welcome to do the same, of course. But if you’re interested, I’m always up for a little fooling around, you know, so if you wanna, just let me know.” God, he was blushing furiously, which only made him look sexier – and cuter.
Crossing the room to his bed, I sat down with my dick practically in his face and said, “I’m always up for it. Almost always, anyway,” I added as I slid the back of my hand down the side of his face and rested my hand on his shoulder. “Always horny, too. If you’d like, we can mess around just about every night. Too much is never enough.” I slid my hand across his chest, rubbing one of his nipples and causing him to gasp, and then slid my hand under the sheet and gently pushed the sheet and blanket to the side, exposing his groin and his rigid, uncut pole. Gently brushing his pubes, I grabbed hold of his pole, causing him to gasp a bit more forcefully.
Moving the shaft up and down far too slowly to risk an orgasm, I asked, “What sorts of things do you like to do? I’m game for just about anything. We can trade hand jobs or give each other blowjobs. If you’re interested, I’m a total bottom but an aggressive one and will ride you raw. I like rimming, too, whether I’m giving or receiving, but I don’t top. Most straight boys don’t like to bottom anyway, I don’t think. I have fetishes for underarms and feet and will do just about anything involving those. I’m not into water sports or scat.
“Does any of that interest you, Sammy?” I asked in a husky voice as I continued to rub him up and down.
“Shit, I don’t know what half of that stuff is,” Sammy answered. “But I’m pretty much game for anything. I’m not sure about topping and bottoming, though I can guess what you meant. I’m not sure I want to try that stuff, but I’m open to any experimentation, otherwise. I’m very naïve and would prefer you lead the way. Whatever you want to do short of fuckin’ me is fine.”
“How about kissing?” I asked. “Do you like to kiss?”
“No offense, J.J. I like kissing my girlfriend but not you.”
“Fair enough,” I responded, and then I brought my mouth down and started nibbling on the base of his neck and then his collarbone. I breathed deeply of the slightly musky scent under his arm, and then I lifted his arm over his head and slowly swirled the tip of my tongue around his armpit. I wasn’t sure why armpits were sexy to me, but he sure seemed to enjoy what I was doing. I moved back to his nipple and then his other nipple, then licked my way down to his navel, an innie, which I explored with the tip of my tongue.
“Please!” he practically called out. “You’re torturing me!” Apparently, he’d had enough of foreplay. I still had my hand around his shaft and was pumping it slowly. I inhaled his scent deeply and took his uncut member into my mouth, moving my left hand to rub his chest while my right hand played with his balls. I went down on his shaft quickly to the hilt and then withdrew ever so slowly as I drew the tip of my tongue up the underside of his sensitive shaft. I knew the moan that escaped his lips was loud enough to be heard in the next bedroom and hoped it wasn’t loud enough to be heard upstairs. I repeated the motion, speeding up ever so slightly each time.
Sammy couldn’t help himself as he started to thrust each time I went down on him, fucking my face as I slowly, sensuously pleasured him, but he was becoming impatient as his thrusts came faster than my oral ministrations. He was getting desperate, and before long, he erupted forcefully in my mouth, practically drowning me. I swallowed as fast as I could, but when I finally came up for air, I had his jizz dripping out my left nostril. I didn’t even know that was possible.
As Sammy recovered, breathlessly, he said, “I really enjoyed messing around with Henry, but I’ve never, ever felt anything like that. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not attracted to guys, and I really love my girlfriend, but what you did was almost good enough to turn a straight boy gay.
“Now, it’s your turn,” he added.
“Sammy, you don’t have to blow me,” I responded. “No way I’d ever make you do it. It’s okay if you just jerk me off.”
“I did occasionally blow Henry,” Sammy related. “It wasn’t my favorite thing, but it seemed only fair.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I suggested, “Why don’t I fuck your thighs. I’ve read about it and always wanted to try it. I’ll stick my dick between your thighs, just below your sack, and thrust as if I was fucking you in the ass. It’s supposed to feel good for both of us. Would that be okay?”
“Long as your dick doesn’t wind up poking me in the ass, it sounds fine,” he replied.
I got behind Sammy, lifted his leg and stuck my dick between his thighs, setting his leg back down on top of it. I snuggled up with him and draped my arm over his torso, rubbing his chest as I slowly began to thrust. I was surprised at how good it felt, sliding in and out of the space between his legs. I sped up my thrusts and rubbed my hand across his chest and abdomen, eventually laying it in his bush. Grabbing his dick, I began to jerk him as I continued my thrusts. Sammy actually started moaning again. I sped up further, but then I felt his back arch and his dick started to spasm as he experienced another orgasm. The feeling of his ejaculating penis in my hand was enough to send me over the edge, too.
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that,” Sammy exclaimed as we both came down from our mutual highs. “We made quite a mess of the bed, though. Looks like I need to change the sheets.”
“If we do this every night, we’re gonna need to do the laundry more often,” I commented, causing Sammy to laugh hysterically. I helped him change the sheets, then got into my bed. I slept soundly until the alarm on Sammy’s phone went off. Mine went off forty minutes later.
<> <> <>
Straightening my bed, I headed to the bathroom, but on the way noticed that Henry, Sammy and the girls were all eating breakfast at the great-room table. I was on full display, and I was sure Hillary got an eyeful, if not Lindsey, too. Oh well, from what Henry had said, this wouldn’t be the last time they’d see me naked, and chances were I’d see them, too.
Rob was already at one of the sinks, shaving, so I jumped in the shower and quickly washed myself. Turning the water off, I grabbed my towel and dried myself off, then got out of the shower and occupied the other sink. Rob grabbed his shower while I applied my deodorant and brushed my teeth. I then headed back to Sammy’s and my room to grab a pair of boxers. I’d dress after eating breakfast. If I dressed first, I might get a stain on my new suit and wouldn’t have time to clean it.
Heading upstairs in my boxers, only Fran was left in the kitchen, so I asked, “What’s the plan for breakfast?”
“Morning, J.J.,” she greeted me, so I greeted her as well. “Today it’s toast and cereal. You can have any of the cereals in the cupboard here, and in the fridge we have nonfat and 2% milk as well as organic Greek yogurt in a variety of flavors. For the toast, we have whole wheat and multigrain. Butter, jam and peanut butter are on the table, as is the coffee. We have fresh bananas, which you can have whole or sliced up in your cereal.”
“Okay,” I replied, “that was quite a spiel. You have a career as a waitress if your current job ever falls through.” Looking in the cupboard, there were about a dozen different cereals, mostly adult varieties like bran flakes, granola and the like. None of them were sugary-sweet kids’ cereals. Except for frosted flakes, those types of cereals didn’t appeal to me. I decided on oat flakes with strawberry-banana yogurt along with multigrain toast.
Taking my toast and cereal to the table, I sliced up a banana on top of the cereal and spread peanut butter between the slices of toast, making a toasted peanut butter sandwich. Of course, I poured myself a steaming mug of coffee and drank it black. Realizing I had no idea what kind of work Fran did, I asked her.
“I’m a paralegal for a law firm on the other side of the highway,” she explained. “Paralegals don’t make the big bucks the lawyers make; we’re paid about half as much, but we get benefits, too, which makes for a decent living.
“What does a paralegal do?” I asked as Rob joined us.
“Paralegals do a lot of the scutwork for the attorneys,” she explained. “We look up relevant case law, track down witnesses, court documents and credit-card receipts, and prepare the legal briefs the attorneys file with the court. A lot of people think we’re glorified secretaries, but you need training to do paralegal work. Most of us have a college degree as well as special courses and certification.”
“That sounds interesting,” I responded.
“Unfortunately, it’s not,” Fran explained. “A lot of the work is routine, such as drawing up wills and the like. Actually, paralegals, not the attorneys, handle most of the routine stuff like that. The client thinks the attorney does all the work because it’s the attorney that they meet with and go over all the details, and then the attorney hands us a bunch of scribbled notes that are about as legible as doctors’ handwriting, and we plug the information into boilerplate software that generates the actual will.”
I finished up my breakfast, then cleaned up after myself, placing my dishes in the dishwasher. Heading back downstairs, I got dressed in my white dress shirt, wool socks, suit pants, dress shoes and belt. I had no idea how to tie a tie, so I waited for Rob to finish his breakfast and had him show me. After three attempts, I still couldn’t get it right, so I had him tie it for me. Donning my suitcoat, I looked in the mirror. I looked pretty good, I thought. The only problem was that my shoes were stiff. Dress shoes are stiff to begin with, and these were new.
It was a cloudy, blustery day, and damn it was cold, even for early March, and it felt like it might snow. There wasn’t room in the garage for Rob’s car, so it was parked on the street. He had an older-model Civic that seemed to be in decent condition. It was a pretty straight shot to Applazon, but there were a lot of traffic lights, and the trip took close to forty minutes.
“It sounded like you and Sammy had some fun last night,” Rob chided me as we got underway.
“I was afraid you could hear it,” I replied. “I just hope no one upstairs did.”
“Nah, Sammy’s loud, but he isn’t that loud,” Rob thought aloud. “I always knew when he did stuff with Henry, too. Henry and Darren were much more discreet, so I’ve never heard them, although I know they were almost certainly doin’ it.”
“This is so embarrassing,” I responded.
“Hey, that’s what honorary big brothers are for,” Rob replied. Fortunately, the conversation the rest of the way to work was much less embarrassing, and before I knew it, we’d arrived. Rob led me to HR, where I introduced myself to the administrative assistant to the chief. Rob headed off to work.
“Good morning, I’m J.J. Jeffries,” I announced. “I have an appointment with Mr. Winters.”
“Yes, your brother made the appointment,” she replied. “We’re expecting you. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here?” Apparently, Rob had indicated I was his brother, which made me smile. There was a small waiting area with some seats and a coffee table covered with magazines. I was taken aback when I spotted a Scientific American. I’d read many issues online, cover to cover, never realizing it was available in print.
“Good morning, Mr. ,” a youngish man said as he approached. By youngish, I meant that he was in his mid-thirties, if I had to guess. He was balding and a little grey around the temples, but his face was that of a younger man. “Could I interest you in some coffee?”
I wondered if it would be rude to refuse but then decided it would be rude not to be honest, and so I answered, “I think I’ll pass on that, but thanks for the offer. I’m nervous as is without adding any more caffeine to the mix than what I’ve already had.”
Laughing, he said, “That’s understandable,” as he shook my hand. “Shall we go to my office?”
“Lead the way,” I responded. His office actually consisted of a cubicle. It was larger than the rest and was the only one with partitions tall enough to keep me from seeing over them.
Gesturing for me to sit down, he said, “Sorry, but Applazon believes that an open culture fosters collaboration among employees. No one in the organization has an enclosed office. Well, I suppose Jeff Barlow does; CEOs don’t have to suffer the way we mere mortals do, but the director of HR certainly should be open and available to all employees all the time.”
“You know, I just read something in the lay press,” I replied. “There was a study – more than one, I think – looking at productivity in different office environments. An open office with cubicles was actually the worst in terms of productivity. It was even worse than an open office without partitions between desks. What they found is that people in cubicles spend the most time of all on non-work activities, even more than people in private offices. The evidence was that the constant distractions of an open office led to frequent interruptions, and the cubicle partitions gave them enough privacy to tend to non-work activities, sight unseen.
“Interestingly, the highest productivity levels were in employees who telecommuted from home, but only when there was a partner at home or available child care to prevent distractions,” I concluded.
Sighing, Mr. Winters stated, “I don’t think we’ll ever see telecommuting at Applazon. If you find the reference to that article, however, I’d love to see it.”
“I think it was in Yahoo News, or something like that, but picked up from the New York Times. I’m sure you could search for it, but if you’d like, I’ll look it up for you,” I offered.
“I might take you up on that if I can’t find it,” he replied. “I see that you’re only sixteen —”
“And I look more like I’m thirteen,” I acknowledged.
“Except that you’re certainly tall enough to be sixteen,” Mr. Winters countered. “Your only previous work experience is with painting houses and handiwork, and you’ve provided a reference from Arturo Rodriguez in Kansas City. You state you also worked for your father but neglected to provide a reference from him.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” I replied. “He threw me out of the house when he discovered I’m gay, and I’ve since learned that he’s passed away.”
“I take it your father is not the same as your brother’s father?” Mr. Winters asked.
“The Gonzalez family has adopted me, figuratively if not legally,” I explained. “Rob’s uncle is a close friend of my last employer, Arturo Rodriguez.”
“I did notice that you checked off the box that you’re gay,” Mr. Winters noted. “Of course, checking ‘prefer not to answer’ or leaving it blank tells us much the same thing, but it’s good to see that you’re open about it. Frankly, I don’t think we should be asking questions like that, even if they’re optional. You didn’t provide information on a driver’s license. Does that mean you can’t drive?” he asked.
“It means I couldn’t obtain a learner’s permit before now, let alone a license. Kansas requires a birth certificate, a valid government-issued photo ID and the signature of a parent or guardian. I was able to obtain a duplicate birth certificate, but I left home without taking my student ID card with me; besides which, everything I had was stolen along the way – twice. Furthermore, I don’t have a guardian, and now that I’m sixteen, I don’t really need one. Nebraska’s much more reasonable, requiring only my birth certificate and two forms of evidence of residence. Evidence of employment plus an account at the credit union should suffice,” I added with a smile. “I’ll be going to the DMV after I finish here, and then I’ll sign up for a Driver’s Ed course at the local high school.”
“It sounds like you’ve got your bases covered,” Mr. Winters commented. “I see you have your GED, and you’re only sixteen, which means you’re exceptionally bright. Is there a reason you aren’t going on to college?”
“Well, going to college wasn’t practical when I was living on the street,” I answered, “and to answer your unasked questions, no, I wasn’t a prostitute, and I didn’t do drugs. Now that I’m sixteen and have my GED, I couldn’t afford to go to college unless I got a full-ride scholarship, and even then, I’d hafta go to class naked, ’cause I wouldn’t even have the money to buy clothes.”
“I’m sure some of the boys there would be appreciative, but it might violate some of the rules if not the law,” Mr. Winters quipped. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Applazon has an excellent tuition benefit for all employees. We’ll cover 95% of full-tuition costs at any public or private university, regardless of the field of study. I’m sure Rob must have mentioned that he’s doing that —”
“He did,” I confirmed.
“It’s a great way to get a start on your degree when you otherwise couldn’t afford it,” he continued. “We’re also generous offering time off to attend college. We’d rather have you finish your degree and come back to work at Applazon than to leave us altogether.
“I’m self-taught,” I replied. “I used online resources to study all of them for fun while I was in high school. I didn’t have the money or my father’s permission to take the actual courses or enroll in a degree program nor to obtain any of the certifications. In fact, I’d like to take the opportunity to get my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in computer science while I’m here, as well as my certifications.”
“Why not your Ph.D.?” Mr. Winters asked.
“If Applazon will give me the time and money to pursue it, I’m game,” I replied. “How long will it take you to make a decision on hiring me?” I asked.
“Oh, you’ve got the job if you want it,” he replied, much to my surprise. “The only question is which job. Obviously, I can’t have you making deliveries like your brother does, not until you have your driver’s license, and then you’d have to apply for a commercial license, and you can’t do that until you’re eighteen.
“When your brother came to me, I assumed we’d hire you as a stock boy,” he continued. “We can still do that if you’d like. The turnover in the stock room is pretty high, because it’s hard work and we often require a lot of overtime. We’re limited in how much we can require of you because you’re still a minor, but that also limits the flexibility of your work hours. I imagine you expect to travel to and from work with your brother, which pretty much dictates when you can work.
“We’re not a fulfillment center here like the ones you see in our TV commercials,” he continued. “Our warehouse isn’t nearly as large, and we stock only limited merchandise. As a delivery center, we serve customers throughout the greater Omaha region, including Lincoln and Council Bluffs. Most of the items come from the fulfillment center in Kansas City, but we also deliver items from fulfillment centers all over the U.S., and we deliver local items, especially food, from Applazon Organic Market, which we own.
“Applazon is in the process of building our own delivery system in most metro areas of a million or more people. We’ve learned we can’t rely on the likes of UPS and the postal service to make deliveries in a timely fashion. And we’re going green. All our delivery vehicles are 100% electric, and we’re building wind farms to power them and to power our data centers. We’re often criticized for wasting energy to deliver items over vast distances to single buyers. Barlow has mandated that Applazon will be a green company, using 50% renewable energy by 2030 and 100% by 2050.”
This was all very interesting, laudable, in fact, but what did it have to do with offering me a fucking job? “You seemed to think you might hire me as something other than a stock boy?” I asked.
“I can’t show you what I have in mind until you sign a nondisclosure agreement,” he replied. “If you will agree to working as a stock boy, I can complete the paperwork to hire you and have you sign the nondisclosure agreement. Then I can show you what I think might be a better fit for your abilities. However, first I should show you the warehouse and let you see what working there would be like.”
Mr. Winters led me off into the bowels of the building, the bulk of which was a single, large, open structure filled with row after row of shelving units reaching up into the sky. Robotic arms were in constant motion, plucking items off shelves and from baskets and loading them onto conveyor belts. At the end of each conveyor belt, employees grabbed the items, checked them off on computer screens, sending some of them down other conveyor belts and boxing up the rest and applying labels. All of the boxes were ultimately sorted and loaded by people onto delivery trucks. A loading dock ran the entire length of the building. It looked like tedious work, but easily within my abilities, and so I said, “I think I’ve seen enough to accept your offer. I understand the pay’s fifteen dollars an hour?”
“Yes, including for overtime,” he replied over the din of the machinery. “I can only hire you for forty hours a week, however, because of your age. You’ll work five days a week, including two Saturdays and two Sundays a month. Our facilities run 24-7. You’ll have two days off a week, usually not contiguous. We provide six hours of paid time off per two-week pay period, which accrues to about 20 days per year, but that includes sick time as well as vacation. You also get a generous health plan, and there’s a 401k retirement plan that’s among the most generous in the industry. Other perks include free use of the full suite of Microsoft and Adobe software, both at work and at home, access to a number of online educational opportunities at no charge, and the full-tuition benefit if you choose to go to college while working here.
“Anyway, let’s go back to my office and we’ll fill out the paperwork so we can get started, and then I’ll show you what else I have in mind for you.” It turned out that filling out paperwork was all done on a tablet, and then copies of everything were sent to my new Applazon corporate email address. I then opened an account with the credit union, directly transferred all my funds from my accounts at Chase. My salary would be directly deposited into the credit-union account and all my banking would be done online. A debit card would be sent to my home address in Bellevue. I didn’t order checks as I could transfer funds to anyone at no charge from an app on my phone.
I was scheduled for a required company physical exam at a private medical facility the following week – on Wednesday – which was the soonest appointment available. That meant I couldn’t start working at Applazon until the week after that, but I had a feeling there would be plenty for me to do in the interim. Little did I know at the time how prophetic that observation turned out to be. Mr. Winters printed out documentation that could be used to verify my home address and my employment by Applazon.
Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional and any resemblance of characters to real individuals is unintentional. Although it takes place in actual locations, in no way are any official policies, opinions or events inferred. Some characters may be underage and at times engage in homosexual acts. Anyone uncomfortable with this should not be reading the story, and the reader assumes responsibility for the legality of reading this type of material where they live. The author retains full copyright and permission must be obtained prior to duplication in any form.