Manhandled (35 page)

Barry Alexander

W
hy in the hell did I ever take this fucking job?
I wondered as I stopped to wipe the sweat off my face before continuing my patrol. Three months of walking up and down the
deserted corridors of this mall after hours were about to drive me nuts. I’d thought listing “security guard” on my resume
would look good when I finished my police science courses, and give me a little experience besides. Hell, all it ever gave
me was calluses.

Nothing ever happened. Nothing ever changed. “What do you want,” Hank had asked, “break-ins and bomb threats?” Well, yeah,
I did. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt or anything, but catching a burglar or putting out a fire would break up the monotony
and give a little oomph to my resume. The daytime guards at least got to chase shoplifters once in a while.

Tonight was really the pits. The air-conditioning broke down about five o’clock. I’ll bet it took the mall manager all of
two seconds to rule out overtime repairs before he drove home to his air-conditioned house in his air-conditioned Lincoln.
When the mall doors locked, all the heat from a blazing summer day quickly built to sauna level.

I wondered how Hank was making out. When I’d passed him on the last round, it didn’t look like the bastard was even breaking
a sweat. Hank Jackson was a big bull of a man who looked like a cross between a Marine drill sergeant and the Incredible Hulk.
Broad shoulders and a massive chest filled his uniform shirt to khaki perfection, then tapered to football-player thighs and
a ridiculously tiny ass. The first day I met him, I went home and jerked off. But the severe buzz cut of his chestnut hair
and the scowl on his handsome face told me I’d better keep those fantasies to myself.

I still didn’t know much about him. Hank didn’t talk much. He just didn’t seem like the kind of guy you could get chummy with.
He’d never yelled at me, but I got the impression that he was just watching for that first mistake.

My footsteps echoed as I walked down the darkened corridor. The carnival smell of greasy donuts, popcorn, and pizza still
lingered in the motionless air as I passed the food court.

I watched my reflection pacing me in the store windows. I’d never felt small until I stood next to Hank. Four years of hard
work at my dad’s lumberyard had packed a lot of solid muscle onto my 6-foot frame. I didn’t turn heads, but no one turned
away either. I liked my body, except for the freckles spattered across my smooth chest. I used to bleach them, until I discovered
that some men actually liked freckles. Go figure. To me, nothing is sexier than a man with a thick pelt of chest hair.

At the end of the mall, I unlocked the access panel and punched my code into the alarm system. Hank was probably doing the
same thing at the opposite end of the mall. We each had a fifty-minute window to reach the other alarm and punch in—long enough
to check every window or stop in the john, but not long enough to nap, read, or have a really hot jerk-off. If we were more
than ten minutes late, the alarm would sound, the cops would come, and we’d be out on our tails if we didn’t have a damn good
excuse.

I stopped in front of the western store to peer through the steel portcullis at the new display. A young cowstud was standing
next to the twin of the Marlboro Man, one boot planted on a hay bale and a lariat in his hand. The older one looked great:
tight jeans molded over his hips, flannel shirt, Stetson pushed back over his thick dark hair, even beard stubble on his chin.

I liked to make up stories about the mannequins; it helped to pass the time. This one was clearly showing the younger one
the ropes. I gave my cock a couple of halfhearted strokes, but it was just too damned hot.

I walked past the exercise equipment display in the middle of the hall and the Tower of Power sports drink display. Some idiot
had actually spent hours building the huge tower of Orange Octane and Indy Grape sports drink cans. Give me a break. Like
drinking that crap and spending a few minutes on the Slope Master could give you a great body like Hank’s.

I snagged an abandoned shopping cart for a quick ride. The wheels rumbled as it careened down the hallway, creating the first
breeze I’d felt all night. I thought I saw something move as I whizzed past a window. It had to be my reflection, but as I
turned to look, the cart turned, too. I hopped off just in time to keep from smashing into the pink marble pillars flanking
the new Diamond Exchange Outlet. I put the cart away.

Under a big skylight near the center of the mall was a small indoor park. Miniature trees, shrubs, and drifts of white flowers
surrounded a two-level pond. Baskets of ivy hung overhead, dripping green tendrils over their sides. I looked longingly at
the water flowing from the upper pond over the wide spillway of deep blue ceramic tiles.

I checked my watch. I had a good twenty minutes to hit the other alarm. I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my sweaty socks,
and plunged my burning feet into the cool water. Heaven! The goldfish fled to the far corner of the pond, giving me fishy
stares as they French-kissed the water.

Sweat trickled down my spine and into the crevice between my buttocks. That tumbling water sure would feel great washing over
my naked body. Why not? The hell with Hank Jackson and the hell with this job. I unbuckled my gun belt and set it aside carefully
so it wouldn’t get wet, then ripped my uniform off and tossed it over the bushes.

Since the water was only waist-deep, I did a shallow surface dive. In two strokes, I reached the other side of the pond. Goldfish
flashed out of my way as I twisted around and returned. But the pool was too small for swimming, so I leaned back against
the tiles and just let the rippled waterfall spill over me.

Through the skylight above me, stars as bright as diamonds glinted against the night sky. I closed my eyes and sighed. I stretched
my arms out to make a water angel. Cool water bubbled over my bare shoulders, coursed down my arms, and filled my open hands.
Just a few minutes,
I told myself, but I could have stayed there forever.

I don’t know how long I’d been there when I heard the click of shoes on tile. Damn! I’d waited too long. I thought about grabbing
my clothes and ducking under the bushes, but there wasn’t time. Besides, it would be more embarrassing (and bare-assing!)
to have Hank spot my white butt poking up out of the bushes. And part of me was dying to see the expression on old poker face’s
puss.

The footsteps stopped. I heard the sharp intake of his breath. I kept my eyes shut and waited for him to swear or yell or
clear his throat or something. The total silence was unnerving. What was he doing? Taking pictures? I had to open my eyes.

I couldn’t believe the look on his face. I’d been prepared for shock, or anger, or outraged morality, but not this. It was
pure envy, and a kind of shy hunger. One hand rested beside his crotch. He jerked it away and flushed as he stepped behind
the bushes. It was too late; there was no mistaking what I’d seen. Hank had a hard-on. And from the way that bulge snaked
down his pants leg, I knew it must be a big mother.

I was going to say something smart and give him a hard time about springing a rod, but I stopped when I saw the naked longing
in his eyes. And something more—a nervous uncertainty. He wanted me, and he was afraid to do anything about it. He started
to back away, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, with no words coming out. Hell, from the way he was acting, you’d
think he’d never seen a naked man before.

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Why don’t you come in and join me?”

He stood frozen under my gaze like a deer trapped in the headlights. He shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered.

“Yes you can.” I stood up and waded through the thigh-deep water, scattering fish and light reflections. I could imagine how
I looked: cool water dripping off my golden skin, beading on my naked flesh, and trickling between my pecs and over the ridges
of my stomach. My cock arched full and heavy, a cascade of flesh over my low-hanging balls. He couldn’t take his eyes off
me. Mesmerized, he watched as I climbed out of the pool and stood close to him, dripping water over his perfectly polished
shoes.

“No,” he whispered. He started to back away.

I stopped him with a touch. His heart hammered beneath my palm. He could have broken me in two, but he just stood there, frozen
by the light touch. I cupped my hand around the thick column of his neck and stood on my toes to kiss him, pressing my naked
flesh against the stiff fabric of his uniform. I brushed my lips over his. Heat radiated from the stonelike rigidity of his
body.

I unbuttoned his shirt and slipped my hand inside, where I found a dense mat of moist fur.
Oh, yeah.
I slid my fingers through the thick shag, combing the silky curls with my fingertips. He trembled as I rimmed his mouth with
my tongue and slid it along the tightly closed crevice.

Suddenly, all the stiffness went out of him. Well, not
all
the stiffness. One part of him was
very
stiff. He moaned and crushed me against him, savaging my mouth like a man starved for the taste and touch of another man.
The hard ridge of his cock pressed against mine. We ground our pelvises against each other frantically. I yanked his shirt
free and slid my hands up his sculptured back as he sucked hungrily on my tongue.

We broke apart for air and stood panting at each other. He looked like he was in shock. “I’ve never done anything like that
before,” he said with his eyes down, too embarrassed to look at me.

“Then it’s about time you did. Come here, Hank. I want you.”

For a moment, I thought he was going to bolt and run, but his desire was stronger than his rigid upbringing. His hands shook
as he fumbled with the rest of his buttons. I brushed his fingers aside and peeled the shirt off his massive shoulders. Dense
coils of moist russet fur covered his chest and belly, disappearing below his belt. He looked like a huge cinnamon bear. I
couldn’t resist. Running both hands through the luxuriant pelt, I leaned in to nuzzle him, drinking in his warm, musky scent.
Almost hidden by the dense growth, his big copper nipples begged for attention. Hank moaned as I sucked one into a hard point,
then lapped the silky strands into a gilded sunburst around the deep red peak.

Hank stroked my back and shoulders cautiously, as if he were afraid to explore my body. “It’s OK,” I said. “You can touch
me anywhere you want.” I put his hand on my belly.

His big warm palm covered my whole pubic area. His fingers trembled as they started to inch down. When his thumb brushed the
base of my cock, he pulled back.

“Anywhere,” I repeated as I worked on his belt.

His hand wrapped around me, dwarfing my six-inch rod. He watched with fascination as my cock, cradled in his palm, filled
and stiffened with little jerks. I tried to slip my hand down the front of his slacks, but his cock was so large there was
no room. When I unfastened his slacks, the huge urgent mass forced the zipper down. I peeled his slacks and briefs off his
sweat-damp thighs. His cock sprang up like a battering ram. It was magnificent: eight inches of proud man-meat, straight,
thick-veined, and crowned with a fat, dusky red glans. Two plump balls weighted the furry sac swaying between his muscular
thighs. My mouth watered just looking at it.

I tugged on his cock playfully, then did a cannonball into the pool, splashing water all over him. “Come and get me.”

He tried to kick out of his pants without taking off his shoes first and almost fell on his butt. I looked up at him and laughed
as he hopped around on one foot, trying to untie his tangled laces. Finally, he freed himself. With a roar, he launched himself
into the pool and tried to grab me. We played in the cool water, cavorting like dolphins.

“Now I have you,” he said, smiling triumphantly as he trapped me in the corner.

I dove between his widespread legs to escape and grabbed his ankle, pulling him down. He toppled into the water with a huge
splash, but even as he fell, his arm snaked out to grab me. He pulled me to him for a long underwater kiss. Even when I started
to run out of air, I didn’t want to break the hungry passion of that kiss. We struggled to our feet and stared at each other.
“Wow!” I said.

He looked at me uncertainly. “Now what?”

I had a few ideas. I guided him over to the waterfall and pushed him back against the spillway. Water rippled over him while
I explored his beautiful body, finding all the sensitive spots—the places that made him sigh with pleasure, the ones that
made him groan, and those that made him quiver with delight.

There was so much of him I wanted to explore: the furry hollows under his arms, the dimple of his belly button, the deep crevice
between the full moons that concealed the unplumbed crater. But I couldn’t wait. I had to have his cock now.

As my warm breath washed over it, his cock jumped. I planted my tongue at the base and slowly licked all the way up. His back
arched as my lips engulfed his warm prick. It was so thick I couldn’t take all of it, but his non-stop litany of gasps and
sighs told me he was more than happy with the blow job. His balls had ridden so far up the cords that they were clamped around
his cock like bookends. It was hot watching him get so aroused, but my cock was aching to nestle into a warm hollow.

“Turn around.”

He looked scared. “I’ve never done that,” he protested. “Won’t it hurt? You’re awfully big.”

I grinned up at him. “Not as big as you, buddy. Don’t worry—I’m not planning on fucking you.”
Not tonight,anyway,
I thought. If we didn’t finish in time to punch in, we were both going to be in enough trouble without breaking into the
drugstore for a pack of condoms. “Trust me. This’ll be just as hot, but safe.”

When he rolled over, I stepped up behind him and pressed my body against his. The water flowing over us did nothing to cool
the fiery heat of my cock as it rested against his tightly clenched buttocks. I moved down, kissing and tonguing the hard
marbles of his spine. Gradually, he relaxed as I gently stroked his sides and hips.