Elevator Encounter

My mind was preoccupied with worries about the fiasco with the presentation yesterday. I'd let the new kid handle it and he'd botched it up royally. I'm the boss, so it's my fault, and how was he going to learn if I didn't throw him to the wolves one in a while. Shit, today was going to be rough, stroking his ego, calming my boss, fending off the wolves.

I pulled my badge and pinned it on as I entered the atrium. Giving a nod to Albert, the oldest living member of any building security force in the world, I joined the crowd milling around in the lobby for the elevators to the top half of the building.

Two sets of doors flew open almost simultaneously and we all surged forward. Why the etiquette of elevator riding says you must face forward I do not know. The capacity load poured on, everyone walking forward, toward the back of the elevator. Now, instead of just staying in place, when the damn thing dings again, we all shuffle and squirm to turn around, robbing bodies. It's a fairly intimate dance.

During the slow accent from the lobby to the thirty ninth, our first stop, things got a little more intimate. I was shoved back hard against the follow behind me, that, when we loaded, had been in front of me. As I recalled, his hair was a tad too long, and I was positive I knew the aftershave I smelled. The impression was of a young, broad shouldered free spirit. He we probably one of those creative souls from the ad agency a floor above our offices.

Regardless, my ass was rubbing his crotch and this man was armed and dangerous. His hand was on my hip. It got wedged there between me and the elephantine female smelling of chocolate who shifted her weight. That stopped whatever ideas there may have been in his mind, I assumed.

It didn't deter my aggressive companion. He spoke softly, right into my ear, "Don't you just love going up and down on elevators." He was able to flex his knees and humped my buns while making that little speech. Since I hadn't jerked away the first time I backed into his obvious erection, and had even pressed back harder, he knew I wasn't going to object unless he got real blatant.

I checked the numbers clicking away. We had only ten floors to the first stop. Letting my right arm hang, I was able to reach back and squeeze his thigh.

"Don't get off," he whispered, squeezing back with the hand on my hip.

Slowly I nodded.

The crowd pressure eased with the first departures at thirty nine. We let our hands hang free. The space equalized around everyone, except between the two of us. It wasn't enough of a difference to draw any attention, but, it soon would be. Aware that a change was eminent, he snaked a hand between my legs as the door closed. He jerked my balls, quickly withdrew, and softly repeated, "Don't get off."

Floor by floor the elevator emptied. At the sixty seventh, the two secretaries left with us, gave us both provocative glances. They figured we were headed for the executive suites on seventy, so why not make a good impression. A girl's got to get by with what she's got. Talent isn't everything in the business world.

He was standing beside me, in the middle of his half of the elevator, by the control panel. I saw his arm reach out and we stopped moving, hanging between sixty seven and sixty eight. Like an Abbot and Costello routine, slowly we turned. He wasn't a beauty, but rugged and rough, shaggy hair and eyebrows on a face that would have been ugly, except for the eyes. They lit up that face, softening his features. And then, he smiled. His whole face changed, laugh lines broke the starkness. The shirt was casual, open to his breastbone, stretched taut down across his impressive chest and tucked in a slim waisted pair of dress pants. The pass clipped on the waistband identified him as a visitor, no name, just a number.

Knowing we had been part of the late crowd and that Albert always took a coffee break when the rush was over, I said, "So, we're trapped in an elevator, high over the city. It may be hours before some one checks it out. At best, we've got fifteen minutes." As I spoke I turned and tossed my coat up, letting it fall draped over the security surveillance camera. That would be the first check anyone made.

"Well, Robert," he said, reading my badge. "Ever got fucked in an elevator?" Crude, but to the point. The voice matched his face, it was rough, raspy and deep, sending cold chills up my spine. If he hadn't been smiling I think I would have fought to push the alarm button. This was not a man you wanted to get angry.

He proceeded to unbuckle his belt, watching me intently. Now he wasn't smiling, he was grinning. Reaching into his hip pocket he pulled out his billfold. From it he tossed me a condom packet, keeping one for himself. "Best we not mess the place up. I assume you still have work to do and cum stains are not accepted office wear accessories," he said with a low evil chuckle. Still keeping to our own sides of that small floating room, we casually dropped our pants in a mini-striptease.

That was no prick you wanted to get angry, either. It fell from his shorts and hung full and veined halfway to his knees. It looked humongous, thick as my wrist. If it kept getting bigger as it got harder, he was going to leave me split wide and bloody on the floor. He read my face and and moved toward me. "Don't let junior scare you, Robert. He's a pro. Knows how to make your ass cry for more. Never killed a partner yet."

He stopped right in front of me, his cock poking my balls. It had got stiffer, not larger. Reaching out he stripped back my foreskin watching the shinny head pop out. A fresh bead of pre-cum bubbled up. He opened the foil, extracted his rubber and rolled it down over my twitching rod. Looking me in the eye, he said, "So get junior dressed. He wants to go in and play."

I followed his instructions.

"Turn around and grab your ankles, Paul boy. Junior and I have work to do." His gruff voice was commanding, insistent.

On his knees behind me he pulled my pants back up to my knees, letting me get a wider stance. Then his hands spread my butt and he started eating my ass. He was washing my hole with his tongue, nibbling on me, sucking and slobbering. Wet and wanting I found myself shoving my ass back. I was trying to gather in that flickering tongue. That's when he moved his hand. With my next shove a finger slid right in. He stroked my hot spot. Wild willies were running and kicking around inside me, making my cock jump.

After just a few more hits in there, I found myself telling him to do it, shove that prick in me. He followed his own plan, working in a second finger, spreading them, stretching my ass lips wider and wider. Now he had three, maybe four, in there. His hand was making small circles, hitting my prostrate with each pass. He could have driven a train into that tunnel. I was wide open, waiting, wanting.

He was on his feet. I could feel that hot sausage of his on my butt cheek. When he pulled his hand out it was waiting, pressing for entry. I knew it was there. I wanted to feel it riding back and forth inside me. I wanted it bad. Together we worked it in. It hurt. It hurt damn good. Then, he was in. I knew it was just his dick head, but it was fine, stretching me tight, filling me. From then it was a slow process of poking and twisting. I was holding on to the hand rail on the wall pushing back. He had a firm grip on my hips and was shoving in. I sunk an inch farther, then another, then another.

"Easy, Paul boy. Easy." he grunted. Rocking in and out, just a few inches, he loosened me up. As I relaxed and my juices flowed, he drove deeper, stroking longer, sliding that giant pole's full length into my grasping, humping hole. His hands were inside my undershirt scraping on my back, fingernails digging in as he groaned with each thrusting drive. It was in, all of it, enormous, swelling my gut. It was impossible to take a deep breath. He was still pushing. I was letting out moans each time we came together.

He changed to slow glides, pumping way in, pulling back, pistoning inside. Rubbing his hand gently over me he soothed the scrapes he had made on my back. "Sorry."

There was no way I could take another inch or any part of an inch. There was no way I wanted anything less. I thrust my ass back. I had it all.

I was flushed, burning with a passionate need now to feel him do it. Jerking and twitching my hips I urged him on. Verbally I was gasping, calling him names between breaths. His tempo quickened and we became a chorus calling out a low wailing sex song. "Fuck me . . . uh hu . . . Fuck me . . . uh hu . . . " Back and forth our voices played, filling the elevator, rocking the entire building.

He was tensing his legs as he shoved in. I could tell the difference as his heavy flesh rod rode in. It rubbed the base of mine from his new elevation. The sensual pleasure point from which my own cock rose throbbing was sparking, tingling, current racing. The action made me twitch and buck wildly. He knew what was happening and pushed down on my hips. I bent my knees, shoving my butt back farther, begging for more. Grunting, he started pounding his pelvis against my buttocks, faster and faster. I was moaning, quivering, my hand savagely whipping on my dick, racing for release.

"Wait for me, Paul boy. Wait for me," he hissed, clasping me tightly, jerking us together. He was pistoning in and out with a quickness that tore my hand from the rail. I would have fallen, but he kept driving, shoving me forward.

Now I was leaning with one arm and my forehead on the wall, yelling for him to do it. "Now fucker, do it now. Get it in me, dick head. Cram it and fill me, pecker breath."

His response was still that one repetitive growl, "Uh hu . . . uh hu . . . uh hu" Then it changed to a mounting guttural cry. I felt his meat swell even more. He was shivering, and with the next plunge I felt the rush of release. My cock leaped and spewed, filling that rubber. My sphincter clinched tight. It was all the extra sensation his giant flesh pole needed. It exploded, pulsing and pouring his milky cum, hot bullets that ricocheted in me, ripping, tearing.

That was the hottest, fastest, most fantastic twelve minutes I had experienced in a long, long time. We slowly straightened up, panting. He smacked my hot butt as he pulled out. "You're a good fuck, Paul. That was an awesome ride." His gruff voice was soft and low.

"Likewise," I replied, holding the rubber, squeezing my prick and pulling it out. The last drops fell inside. He got his off and held it out with a grin.

"You got a way to get rid of these, Paul boy?"

I tied them off together, tucking the tops in a sock. They were safe until I made it to the public toilet on the sixty second. A place I was beginning to have a desperate need to visit.

Redressing we somehow moved back into possession of our own halves of the empty elevator. Two strangers, exchanging small polite smiles.

"Could you give me a hand?" I asked, pointing at my coat. He stepped over, laced his fingers and gave me a boost. "Thanks," I said, back on the floor with the coat in my hand. "Sixty two, please." He nodded and pressed the button.

When the doors slid open, I glanced at him. He was busy studying the elevator ceiling. I flipped him the bird and took off for the men's. Just before the doors clicked shut I heard that gruff growly voice, "See ya around, Paul boy."

I never even found out what floor he was visiting. He didn't press any button before I got off. Dumb me, I also didn't remember that visitor pass number. I checked, there were eighty seven visitors logged in before eight for the entire building.

I walked bowlegged the rest of the day. But I was smiling and nice, even to the kid. I know he expected to get his ass chewed. But , I wasn't in the mood. Already had had enough ass chewing. The old man even made a crack about me floating around with a sappy smile like I'd just got laid. I didn't say anything, gave him a sly wink.

You can spot me in an elevator. I'm the guy that always moves clear to the back, checking out the visitors.