The Butcher

The term, business consultant, was one that I would come to loathe. After starting my first job and working happily at the company for a year, the owner of the business’ son decided to modernize the perfectly successful company.  We were all told that the ‘business consultant’ was only there to streamline operations. After the streamlining took place, however, heads rolled, and I was one of the unfortunate casualties of the ‘reconstruction.’ In a soft job market, I now found myself unemployed.

A few weeks later, while I was accompanying my father to our local butcher one Saturday morning, Garret, our butcher, told my dad that one of his employees would be leaving at the end of the month. My dad lost no time in suggesting that Garret should give me a try-out.

I cannot say that I was stoked about the job possibility. Firstly, I never liked the smell of a butcher shop, and the thought of working with meat didn’t appeal to me. But, as beggars can’t be choosers, I had few other options. 

Although I wasn’t frightened of Garret, I found him rather intimidating. He was a large bearish man, with a stern face that looked like it didn’t take any shit from his employees.

After agreeing to give me a test run, Garret quickly added, that he would know within a week if I was suitable for the job. As an aside, I am pleased to report that after my weeklong probation period, I, fortunately, made the grade.  

“Make sure your fingernails are clipped very short and are always clean, and when you report on Monday, make sure your hair is cut very short. The last thing our customers need is to find hairs on their meat when they unwrap it,” he sternly concluded after the brief interview.

There was a hive of activity after I reported for duty on Monday. Part of the bustle was being taken to the store where I got fitted out with the appropriate uniforms I was required to wear. The outfits consisted of white dungarees, white t-shirts, white gumboots, transparent hairnets, and blue and white aprons. We also wore elasticized forearm guards. Garret did not approve of the conventional butchers’ gloves, because in his opinion, it was important to feel the texture of the meat when you worked with it.  

On my first two days, I learned to pack and tidy shelves and deal with customers. Thankfully, the smell of the meat that had concerned me the most quickly became second nature to me. On my third day, Garret finally allowed me to observe him at work, cutting and trimming meat. What intrigued me was looking at his large masculine hands, adeptly going about their work. The more I watched, the more the vision I was observing sexually excited me.

The second and even more enthralling aspect of the tutoring was the steady escalation of the eye contact that began developing between Garret and me. It began to feel like he was reading my mind and could sense my arousal.

This ‘torture’ reached a fever pitch a couple of days later when Garret began massaging two large beef fillets that he would soon slice into individual fillet steaks. 

As his fleshy hands cupped the fillet like he was caressing a meaty penis before he commenced leisurely sliding his palms and fingers to and fro, I could feel precum oozing out of my cock from the excitement. With a look of unmistakable lust in his eyes, Garret soon invited me to take over from him. With the two of us alone at the back of the store at this point, I soon starting mimicking his actions as my hands traversed the thick slab of meat.

When I got underway, Garret moved up behind me. The sliding door to the back section was pulled closed, as always, and the door made quite a noise when it got opened. As I rubbed to meat and listened to his lustful whispers of what I should be feeling, I soon felt a tongue sculpting the inside of my ear.

In a low horny growl, Garret asked, “How would you like to play with a stiff slab of meat like this?”

“Mmm,” I groaned in submission.

“Great, we’d better cool it for now. But tonight as we’re about to lock up, make sure you spill this dish of blood on the floor,” Garret collusively uttered, as he pointed to the pan of blood.

At closing time, when the other three staff members were getting ready to depart, I put on my Oscar-winning messy performance.

“Oh, shit, it looks like butterfingers needs to clean up his mess,” Garret said with faux annoyance, before addressing the other workers, “You guys can go home and make sure the front door is closed and the shop lights are switched off on your way out.”  

“Let’s just give it a minute or two, in case someone has forgotten something,” Garret conspiratorially mentioned, once we heard the front door closing.

After I finished the minor clean-up, Garret handed me a beer.

“Well, it looks like the coast is clear,” he finally stated, before he commenced undressing. As he did so, he looked at me with a ‘what are you waiting for,’ gaze.

Once were had both stripped down to our underpants, Garret moved toward me.

With a snigger, Garret then said, “I always thought you were gay.”

“Well, with you being married and all, I assumed you were straight,” I countered.

Garret now looked at me pensively, before replying, “I love my wife, and particularly my two kids. But, sex at home isn’t the highlight of my existence. Even though I’m bisexual, I have always preferred men. You are heaven-sent, Danny.” After another sip of beer, Garret persevered, “I cannot go to gay places, because everyone in the area knows me. Hopefully, now I’ll get to savour the forbidden fruit, that I’ve been missing out on for so long.”

As Garret then closed the distance between us, all I could think about were his fleshy mitts tantalizing my body.

“Do you want me?” Garret asked with lascivious eyes.

“Yeah, fuck, yeah,” I gushed with horniness as his hands traversed my torso.

“Are you ready for your next meat lesson?” Garret murmured.

“Stiff fillet has always been my favourite cut,” I gushed as my hands enclosed on his huge cotton packaged meat.

“Oh, Jesus, baby, I’m going to stuff my entire Beef Wellington in your backside,” Garret cooed, as his magnificent hands cupped my arse and he began kissing me.  

From Garrets snorting and panting, I knew it would not be too long before my arse was going to get fucked.

My premonition got realized when I got spun around before a sublime searing soreness vigorously assailed my backside. My loud yells were not uttered from discomfort but from the enchantment of divine agony.

“Fuck me, fuuck me, just fuckin’ fuuuck me,” I intoned like a bitch in heat.

Garret was equal to the task and hammered my arse manically. He was rather rough, but this was understandable due to his pent-up frustration.   

“Jesus, Jesuss, Jesusss,” he yelled triumphantly as he shuddered while gushing his seed into me.

I fell asleep that night with a sore arse, wondering what other enjoyments my new job would hold for me.

Garret and I soon got into a sexual routine afterward. It didn’t happen daily, because we didn’t want to arouse suspicions, but every couple of days a contrived misdemeanour on my part would lead to my having to remain after work. Ironically, the other staff members even began to speculate that I was getting picked on. I simply dismissed this notion, by telling them that as the new boy, Garret was simply keeping me in check.

After our initial quickie, I also got a more comprehensive look at Garret. Although he sadly had no facial hair, for obvious reasons, the rest of his body was extremely hairy.

A more impressive aspect of our exchanges was that I got to ‘interact’ with his imposing uncut cock more comprehensively. I now fully understood why my arse had been so sore after our first tryst.

The midsection of his dick was so thick, that oral sex was extremely taxing. Given his rough penchant, however, this did not stop him from trying to force more of the “Wellington’ as far down my throat as possible, and I practically became addicted to lozenges. Garret would simply cock-slap my face in frustration most of the time, before fucking the hell out of my arse.

As time wore on, a kinky side of Garret also began to emerge.

After work one day, I observed a large deboned leg of a lamb lying on a slab next to him. With this cut of meat being a popular offering in the butchery, I didn’t give it a second thought, before I observed the impish look on Garret’s face.

“I’ll be taking this home with me for dinner,” he said, before adding, “Now let’s get it properly spiced before it goes on the barbeque.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked in bewilderment.

“Well, first I’m gonna fuck you, and then we’re gonna shoot our loads in the deboned leg,” he mischievously answered.

“Are you serious?” I countered.

“Dead, serious,” he unequivocally answered. “The bitch I am married to had never allowed me to cum in her mouth, so now she’ll be eating spunk tonight.”

My usual skull-fucking ‘torture’ then followed before I got another solid arse fucking. As Garret was about to unload, he shoved his dick in the deboned lamb and shot his load. I was then commanded to also unload in the lamb.

“Don’t you think she’ll taste something strange?” I asked.

“No,” he said, before sprinkling one of his famous spice mixes into the aperture of the deboned lamb.

The following day I asked, “Did your wife enjoy the lamb?”

“She loved it,” Garret replied with a chuckle.