Deli boys

Fucking hell, those boys were eager. Here I was a balding hairy banker pushing 40, spit roasted - was that the term? – by those hot lads in the deli. Who knew regular purchasing of falafels and salami and baguettes was going to get me so much great customer service, fucked so hard, and by them both at the same time?

When I moved out of the marital home, left the wife to her own devices, and rented the flat on the other side of town, I found I was working long hours, up and out early, back late. On the way to the station Monday to Friday I passed the deli on the High Street and popped in for a coffee, sometimes a croissant, sometimes a sandwich if I had skipped dinner the night before, and on the way back, a full 12 hours later, it would still be open and in I would go for gnocchi or hummus or a couscous salad or the last lonely baguette of the day.

So, depending on their shifts I saw Harry and Roland regularly. Their badges told me their names.

Harry was tall, skinny, and willowy, with a sullen expression and reddish fair longish hair, the colour of a good loaf. He rarely seemed to smile, while Roland, who was equally tall was smiley first thing and last thing. He was the more muscular of the two, as his tight tee showed me, and he had a head of black rasta hair. His accent suggested he was from Leeds or somewhere North. Harry was definitely from the South, perhaps posher than he was pretending to be to the customers in the deli.

I am not saying we became friends, but we saw each other most days and there did start being a little more chat than just ordering a sandwich or a quick no fuss dinner option. I did spend some time eyeing their arses at the coffee machine as their front bulges were mostly disguised by the aprons they wore for the job. Mind you Roland did seem to stick out a bit out front.

You like it big and black don’t you said Harry turning his back on me as he prepared my morning coffee.

Or am I getting it wrong?

I blushed.

I noted his cute arse.

Roland’s away seeing his parents, continued Harry without prompting, if we are talking of big and black.

I blushed through my stubble.

He smirked at me and looked me up and down – I was in my usual office attire, the neat navy suit, the white shirt, the tasteful but trendy silk tie, the suede boots, the two days of greyish prickly growth on my cheeks and chin. I looked I know like everybody else who worked in a management role in any office.

You a banker, asked Harry, though in such a way that he may as well have asked if I was a wanker.

I was in fact very much a wanker these days. Had not had any sex for a very long time, had given up dating, settled for my good right hand and porn.

Yup, I said. Is it so obvious?

Nice tie tho, said Harry and more or less smiled.

Here’s your short and black, he said, handing over my coffee. One of these days you need to try out our tall and white though.

Was this posh bastard flirting with me then for fuck’s sake?

Suddenly I had a hard-on in my tight navy trousers. I could feel my fresh on this morning white Calvins being stretched.

I groaned a short -fuck - without meaning to.

Pardon, said Harry, no doubt noticing the new red in my cheeks, maybe he could see the rod sticking up in my crotch too.

He looked me up and down and now I knew he had noticed.

He half-smiled.

Morning woody. You eager to get off to the office, he asked, or are you just eager? You need your loyalty card stamped.

He yawned.

I have been partying all night and was on shift at 6.45, I am pretty fucked. But horny.

Maybe you need a big white one, I ventured, to wake you up.

He looked at his watch.

Carlos, he cried. I am having a fag break, back in 5.

Carlos came through from the back, wiping flour or something off his hands, he was pleasant enough looking but not up to the standard of Harry or Roland.

Come on Harry said to me, taking a slurp off my coffee. How far is your place?

5 minutes I mumbled. The new flats by the canal.

Fancy address. There must be a lift?

Yup.

Good. Let’s jog. Then I’ll suck you off. Then I’ll get back to work. And so will you.

There was no chat on the way. I pressed the lift button for the fourth floor.

No time like the present said Harry, dropping to his knees in front of me.

Give me that big Daddy cock, Daddy, he said.

He unzipped me, pulled out my cock, seven very respectable, very hard inches, and kneeling in front gave me a damn good sucking, with a lot of noise and spit.

The mirrored walls of the lift captured the blow job in duplicate.

I saw myself, a tall decent office type, not bad looking, unshaven in a smart suit. With my cock out.

I saw a tall handsome young sandy haired guy on his knees, his cheeks full of my knob. Out of his lush lips dripped strings of spit and definitely by now my precum.

Yeah Daddy yeah, he breathed in his posh accent. Give it to me.

I gave it to him, no hesitation.

Jesus fuck Harry I moaned, take it, take it. Oh Harry, oh fuckin Harry.

I was beside myself, thrusting into his mouth, groaning, moaning and exclaiming. I did not give a fuck if the lift stopped on any of the floors. I almost wanted to be discovered by the neighbours, maybe that cute Italian on the floor above. I just wanted him to suck me and mebbe fuck me, I just wanted to cum.

I got my wish.

I did cum. I shouted out as a warning, just before my balls burst into flame.

I am gonna!

Harry took his lips off me and jerked me back and forward with those long elegant fingers.

Suddenly he seemed to go cockney.

Give me it, fuckin give me your fuckin load.

I did as I was asked.

Oh Jesus Mary and Joseph I shouted out. I was raised a Catholic.

I came all over the floor of the lift, missing Harry entirely. Maybe four big shots. Jesus my balls were full of it this morning.

Jesus fuck.

The mirror got spattered too and showed me the whole fuckin fountain of spunk and I wished I had had the presence of mind to film it for future late night viewing. But I still had a paper cup of coffee shaking in my free hand, and was anxious not to spill it, there was enough mess in that lift, and the other one was clutching at Harry’s head.

We had reached the top floor. Harry got off his knees, wiped his lips, shook his fist free of drips, and pressed the button for the ground floor.

I need to get back to work, he said, sorry Daddy, no time for a fuck chez toi.

He got his fags out as we left the front door and took another slurp from my coffee.

Fuck, that was good, he said, I mean the coffee obviously. I like something hot in my mouth in the morning, even it is a skinny latte.

That was more like ten, cried out Carlos, who was standing at the door of the deli waiting with his arms crossed. He gave me a weird look.

Definitely ten, said Harry, don’t you agree, he said to me, erm …?

Mike, I supplied. Definitely ten.

He smiled at me.

Thanks for that Mike, enjoy your day in the office.

I was hard again in my trousers and the train’s regular throbbing motion helped me maintain my erection. Fuck, was I happy as I tripped up the stairs from the station, and headed for the office.

Heather my PR noticed my smile.

Hey, somebody’s happy today Mike. What did you put in your coffee this morning?

I shrugged – I just collected a reward on my loyalty card, that’s all.

My presentation to the Board was fabulous.

JoJo was on duty that night in the deli, on the late shift. She kinda looked at me.

You Mike sir? She asked.

I nodded and she handed over a note. From Harry, a phone number.

I ordered the pumpkin lasagne.

I ate it on the sofa in my underwear and felt my cock get very hard indeed as I texted Harry.

His reply was short and to the point.

Text me your flat number and leave the door open at 6.30 am.

Of course I tossed and turned all night and was awake long before 6.30 - as hard as fuck. He came late at 6.40. I came approximately five minutes later and then five minutes after that. He swallowed both hot morning loads with barely a murmur.

We lay naked in my untidy sheets with the morning sun all over us. Me a bit dark and far too hairy with a spent leaking cock against my furry stomach and Harry all smooth and skinny and wanking himself off – I had offered but he said he could do it. If I was a skinny latte then he was a flat white, short and very squat and as it turned out, full of froth.

Harry climbed on top and shot all over my face. Whatever his diet was it made his spunk sweet as well as plentiful, if a bit runny, like an egg white.

Then we had a shower together with Harry rubbing gel into my hairy chest but slapping away my eager hands and telling me he had a job to get to.

He dressed and left while I was still slipping my fresh white briefs up over my still grateful and by now almost limp cock

I felt ready for work now with a spring in my step. When I bought my coffee fifteen minutes later he barely acknowledged me apart perhaps from a distant twinkle under his sandy lashes.

Baguettes fresh this morning, sir, he said, need one?

And so it went on, all that week. Early morning fucks setting me up for the day. My work colleagues noted the improvement in my demeanour. Is there something you want to share they asked with smirks.

Then Harry went away on holiday, he had had the chance of a villa in the sun he said. I was still impossibly erect in the early mornings but had to have a quick and efficient wank in the shower before I dressed.

Then Roland was back on the evening shift. He grinned at me in a way that suggested to me that Harry had shared some information with him. Roland’s black looks made Harry seem very pale and boy-like. For a start he was so muscular and broad and his teeth were so white and he grinned and his hair was a mass of dark rasta ringlets. He was a lot more chatty than Harry.

I bought some courgette lasagne.

Don’t you fancy something a bit spicier, he said, with almost a wink.

What do you suggest, I replied.

That chorizo needs swallowing, he said, indicating, the big dark reddish length in the cool cabinet. Or maybe you fancy something like a thick black pudding? Fresh from the North. Where all the best things come from.

This was too much of a joke and I laughed nervously.

Well, now you mention it, I’ve heard that - I could manage a bit of black pudding.

How much do you want, said Roland with a straight face.

All of it I said and swallowed. Leave it hole, I mean whole.

Coming right up then, said Roland. You must be due a free one anyway, with all those stamps on your card.

Do you deliver, I asked in a small voice, so Jojo who was also on the late shift could not hear. She was busy packing up the cheese.

I always deliver. What’s the address again?

xxx

When I got back to the flat I stripped off my suit and shirt and shoes and socks and whatever and straightened the bed.

I answered the door in my underwear. In fact I had changed my underwear too, so that my white scoop necked vest was just a little bit neater on my hairy upper body and my white jock of course was barely there.

Luckily it was Roland at the door and not somebody wanting to borrow a cup of sugar.

There was no hiding the hard-on which nodded welcome to Roland at the door. I was nearly popping out over the waistband.

He held up the brown paper bag with its distinctive shape outlined – hey I’ve brought one too, he said.

I was expecting another quip about his own Yorkshire black pudding but Roland just took a slurp of the wine I handed him.

Mm, good, he said, Daddy, down on all fours on rug.

I did so, facing him as I watched him taking off his clothes.

Fuck, he was one magnificent specimen, all chocolate and shiny and furred with little curls, and his cock, oh Jesus his cock, looked like he must work in porn on the side. My ample Daddy cock tight in its white jock was a poor comparison with his big hard ebony equipment, like a well baked rye baguette.

Let’s get the dinner on the table then, he said.

And he stuck his tongue up my hairy arse. Then a finger, then another.

I had the lube ready within reach on the coffee table and some poppers in case he was in the mood - I was and had a notion I might need my anal canal really relaxed.

OK Daddy, he said, relax. Your main course is coming.

Then, well, he gave me it. Hard. Fuck, I thought he was going to split me in two. Fuck it was a stomach filler.

Very considerately I thought he handed me the poppers and let me sniff to my heart’s content. And he added plenty dripping lube as the fucking went on. Hard. I almost expected his knob to pop out my mouth.

You enjoying this, yup?

He asked. Silly question. I hope the neighbours were out. I could hear them cough so as sure as fuck they could hear me scream.

I want to see that cute Daddy face now, said Roland with a grin, his eyes like black olives. Or sloes if you live in the country.

Then he turned me over with my back and arse on the shagpile rug - and rammed me again. My hard seven incher bounced about on my belly till with no warning whatsoever apart from a sticky mess trail at my navel I exploded. Look, no hands. Something like crème fraiche all over the hair.

Roland like that.

Daddy fuck, fuck I am coming, fuckin coming … do you want it?

Yeah, give me it, give me your load, give me it …

Shortly after this exchange Roland discharged deep in me, so hard I nearly sank into the rug like a conjuring trick. Fuck, I thought he was stuck inside me, till I felt him make a real effort to pull out and with a grunt his dark baguette slipped out and a stream of hot cream followed.

Wow, said Roland, kneeling beside me, you are one hot Daddy, just like Harry promised.

Do you want something to eat, I managed from my position on the rug.

He looked at his watch.

Better go, am on early tomorrow, bad planning.

Do you want to shower, I asked from the rug, still quivering a little.

Looks like you need it more than me, he said and grinned. I’ll wipe myself down and be off.

He got up and guessed correctly where the bathroom was, his big Christmas edition Toblerone dick swinging and bobbing as he jogged. And fuck what an ass he had on him, two choux buns.

I must have blacked out, no wonder. I came to with the click of the front door closing. I felt the cum streams dripping off me.

Fuck, I had forgotten to arrange him coming round for a breakfast session.

xxx

I practically devoured him with my eyes the next morning when I ordered my tall black with a grin. He smiled a lot and winked.

You off early today, he asked. I’m off after the lunch rush.

I decided to cancel my afternoon meetings right there and then and told him I would get home for 3.

xxx

Surprise, said a tanned Harry when I opened the door to Roland. They were both standing there grinning with a brown bag full of luncheon.

Food was the last thing on my mind. It was on their mind but perhaps not in the normal way of things.

It takes all sorts. They did work in a deli after all.

I had left my navy suit attire on thinking it was some kind of Daddy turn- on to both of them. I was right, they wanted to undress me before the spit roasting and the other things, and later my good new tie got ruined with all that Korean chili mayo squirted on it never mind the semen squirted over it too.

The boys had brought their aprons with them, so for a bit while all this was going on, the pair of them were bare-assed naked but with the aprons on too. I presume they had spares at home as by the end of the day they were in need of a proper wash to get rid of all the dairy and male protein.

The boys tied me to the bed, spreadeagled, and then stuffed my jock full of meringues, then poured artisan Madagascar vanilla custard all over my naked front, so my hairy chest and belly was one big mess of yellow fur. Then those wee buggers licked me and rubbed me and swallowed me and then as the afternoon went on there was spunk in the mix too. I managed to get a good bit of that delicacy down my throat too.

What kind of hamper of sexy goodies had I discovered?

And I should have cottoned on quicker when the salami came out of the bag. Not a packet of the sliced variety you understand, but a great big fat juicy length.

What’s the technical porn term for having a posh cock rammed down your throat, while there’s a big black Yorkshire one stuck up your arse, and an Italian pork product squeezed in at same time? Well and truly fuckin stuffed?

xxx

That deli closed shortly afterwards. I am not suggesting that had anything to do with Harry and Roland’s special loyalty card service however.

Meanwhile there’s a nice new Italian deli open just beside the train station. I have great hopes of Ettore with his big blue eyes, hairy forearms, and his big bowl of stuffed jumbo olives.