Written by: Mack Marek
Illustrated by: Eduardo

(55 illustrations)

1. You don't get to where I am without working long hours. I've been a workaholic since middle school. To some people, a job is a job, but my company is my life.
I'm just 24 years old. Three years ago, I started a software business which now has five employees. As the founder, I have a lot of responsibility in driving the company forward, but I still insist on programming with the team, because after all, I made it this far by loving to code. I might be rolling in dough, but it's the work that makes me happy, and I don't think I could ever give it up.

2. It doesn't sound super exciting, I know. I sit in front of a mostly black computer screen for 12, 13, 16 hours a day sometimes. But what can I say, when you find something you're passionate about, you get lost in it – even if it's not always glamorous. Sometimes I forget to eat. Sometimes I'll collapse into bed exhausted but my mind is still reeling when the sun comes up.

3. I'm pretty tall (6 foot 4 inches) and fairly lean, although I'm far from athletic and a few years of neglect have softened my figure a little. My hair's cropped short and it seems I'm always fighting a losing battle against stubble. I've never paid much attention to how I look.

4. I'm not romantic; in fact, I'm a virgin. I almost never masturbate. Maybe I'm asexual even. My obsession with work has come at a personal cost. I have acquaintances but not so much friends. Those that I do have get bored of me because all I ever want to talk about is bleeding-edge tech and software architecture and the latest framework the Facebook team churned out. I even had a falling out with my parents when they criticized me for refusing to take over the family business. I'm not emotionless, but I don't find my interpersonal relationships to be rewarding or meaningful; I just want to create.

5. And then last year I damn near had a stroke. Doctors said it had something to do with exhaustion. It's fine to be in love with work, but it can literally kill you. Since then I've had a half dozen sessions with a psychiatrist. I need to learn to relax, detach from work once in a while, and most of all I need to develop human relationships. At first I thought it was just a bunch of hippie bullshit, but it turns out that giving myself some time to recharge a few days a week has dramatically improved my health and reduced my constant dependence on caffeine and ibuprofen. But shutting work out of my mind left a void. I began to feel lonely. I began to want to be social. And I had all but forgotten how.

6. It was half past nine at night and I was lost in the work again, scrambling after an elusive bug. I snapped out of it when the pangs of hunger finally returned me to reality, but I knew if I went home without figuring it out, it'd plague me all night anyways. I ordered a pizza and brewed a pot of coffee. As I waited for dinner, I realized how long it'd been since I last ate and my brain felt fuzzy, as if I'd had one beer too many. I scrolled aimlessly up and down on the screen, unable to focus any longer. 

7. After an eternity, the pizza arrived and I wolfed down three slices before feeling satiated. The rest of the greasy goodness joined the ever-growing disarray of my desk. I'm a neat freak, but my desk is proof of entropy – each morning I meticulously clean it, and every night it's devolved into chaos.

8. I jolted when the vacuum cleaner started. The janitor was here. While I work late often, I'm almost never at the office, since the only reason to be here is when the whole team's here.
He worked his way into my office and I nervously smiled then averted my eyes, a natural introvert.

9. Then I remembered the advice from my therapist and I knew I had to make an effort to be more sociable, especially with someone who I can't just rant about work to.
My voice cracked briefly as I hadn't spoken in hours. I cleared my throat and asked him if he'd care for some pizza, gesturing to the chair across from my desk.
He seemed confused (it probably is awkward), but he sat down, peeling off his rubber gloves.

10. I took a good look at him. He was a short, chubby Hispanic man, maybe 40 years old. His hair was buzzed like mine, and he had a big, full beard. His eyes were soft and intelligent, and his neutral expression seemed smiling, which contrasted my resting face, which always looked robotic.
A thick, dark fur ran up the length of his arms. He wore a buttoned short-sleeved white shirt, which seemed a little tight for such a thick man, and some chest hair was poking out of the collar. He shyly muttered a "thanks" and gingerly reached for a slice. We sat in silence for a few seconds.

11. "I'm Mack."
"I'm Harold... I like your office." He was so quiet.
He adjusted his glasses and looked at the floor. I wasn't good at this.
"You a Salt Lake City native?" I asked, trying awkwardly to maintain the small talk.
"No, I grew up in Ecuador. Moved here last year."
"Oh wow! I haven't even been to another country before. What brought you here?"
"Opportunity, I guess. It's safer, more jobs... and I like the mountains and the weather here."
Something I could relate to. "Same, I moved here from Massachusetts. A little less dramatic than a new country and language, but this place is beautiful."
We both nibbled on the lukewarm pizza. "Do you have family here?"
"No, you?"

12. Well. Guess I'm not the only one here who's alone. The guy's quiet, but he seems nice. I wonder about his childhood, what drove him to come here, what he wanted to do. I couldn't figure out how to ask in a way that didn't feel like an interrogation. I mean, he's literally sitting across from me at my desk. It felt like an interview.
His accent was exotic and I liked listening to it. I didn't know what to say though. I was beating myself up inside, angry that I was so socially inept, that I didn't know how to make a conversation feel natural.
Instead, he broke the silence this time. "I'm trying to learn how to code. I heard Salt Lake is a good tech spot."

13. "Cool! That's awesome, what are you learning?" Suddenly we had something real in common.
"It's nothing -- just some basic website stuff. HTML. I don't really know what I'm doing yet."
No, this was something to latch onto, I wasn't letting him go now. Finally the conversation had started to flow.
I practically pulled him around to my side of the desk excitedly, and he showed me some of the sites he'd worked on on my computer.

14. It was impressive work! We started pulling apart his source code and he lit up and really got talking. I showed him what we were working on and he was genuinely excited. He had an attitude that most of my team was lacking, a real enthusiasm for the trade, like I had.
He was humble and knew more than he initially let on. I coaxed him out of his shell and suddenly it was like I couldn't get him to stop talking. This man was a talented coder, not a janitor!
I cut him off mid-sentence as he was voicing his thoughts on directory structure. "Do you want a job here?"

15. He froze and his expression muddled a bit. He thought I was toying with him. "As a web developer at first," I interjected. "But room to grow with your skill set."
His brow furrowed. I couldn't help but find it cute, which was an alien feeling to me. I'd never really felt attraction to anyone before, male or female, and here I was mildly crushing on a chubby, hairy little man. It was his mind, his beautiful mind. He seemed both naive and seasoned, innocent and brilliant. I felt like he didn't fully realize just how much potential he had.

16. "I don't think I have the experience you're looking for..." He trailed off.
"I'm not looking for experience. I have experienced developers. I'm looking for someone who's motivated, someone who cares about the trade like you do."
He seemed to blush. "Yes," he blurted.
"What's your price?" Wow, this turned into an interview after all.
He named a number. I smiled and opened the offer letter template on my computer. As I filled it out, I doubled what he asked for. I printed it out and handed it to him and he stuttered when he saw it. "It's still a steal," I grinned.
In between a few disbelieving thank-you's, he signed it and handed it back.

17. This stupid bug would be there in the morning. I snapped the lid of my machine shut and stood up. "Wanna grab a drink?"
I beckoned and he shuffled after me, abandoning his janitor cart in my office. I locked up and we braced ourselves against the icy breeze as we stepped outside into the crisp night. He shuddered and I almost put an arm around him. I had no idea what was going through my head.

18. We walked briskly to the bar across the street and ordered some beers. I couldn't believe that two hours ago I was frustratingly debugging some trivial issue and now I was drinking with someone who'd gone from stranger to practically best friend. I was glad I hadn't gone home.

19. Exhaustion made me a lightweight and by the second beer, I was already heavily buzzed. If anything, he seemed to start slurring even faster than I was. I had no idea what we were doing -- we came to socialize, not get drunk. But the drinks were there and I needed to decompress and I'm used to drinking alone. As I began to unwind, the conversation went more personal.
"Are you single?" I blurted out unexpectedly.
After a moment he said, "Yes." It was quiet and terse, as if it was a subject he didn't want to talk about.
I pressed on anyways, the alcohol making me more dangerous. "How's such a smart, handsome man like you not getting lucky every night?" I asked slyly.

20. His face turned dark red and his eyes turned away. He chugged a full beer, clearly uncomfortable.
I felt guilty, but couldn't understand why the subject would make him feel so uncomfortable, so I upgraded us from beer to whiskey.
After a few minutes of aimless small talk, I knew the effect had hit him full force. It had hit me hard as well though, and without thinking, I asked,
"Do you like guys or girls?"
His eyes seemed to widen and he looked at me incredulously.

21. Without warning, he leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I was frozen, shocked. I felt his whiskers brush against my face. It was half a second but felt like an eternity. My hands dropped to my sides. I looked into his pleading brown eyes. I had never felt so confused; I knew that I'd thought he seemed cute but I'd never felt any semblance of romance or arousal. It was like going through puberty all over again. I just stared stupidly.

22. He jolted back to reality. His expression went from innocent to horrified,  hand he reeled back, realizing what he had done. Before I could even find my tongue to speak, he was running, the stool still slowly spinning as he stumbled out the door. I just sat there stupefied for a few seconds, the bartender glaring disapprovingly.
I slapped a few twenties on the counter, chasing after him. My world was spinning, the buzz being amplified by the nervous, excited electricity that was flowing through me.

23. He had crossed the street and was fumbling with his keys, trying to get back into the office, to escape me and get back to work. I sprinted after him, and just as the door was closing behind him, I threw it open and crashed into him.
24. We tumbled onto the floor of the lobby. I rolled on top of him and I looked down at his mortified expression. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and collecting in that thick, dark beard. "I di -- I didn't --" he started to stammer.

25. I pressed my lips against his, almost violently. The door still stood open, the freezing wind cutting into my back. I barely felt it. I thrust my tongue into his mouth and he gave. I felt his arms go limp underneath me, then they circled around my torso and he started to kiss me back.
I was hopelessly in love with a man I'd met hours ago, whose last name I didn't even know. I pushed deeper into his mouth, as if I could somehow force us together until we were inside one another, until we were melded into a single person. I wanted to join us together, to caress every cell of his body. I wanted to give him the kind of pleasure I had never known.

26. After what seemed like an eternity, I yanked myself away to look into his eyes. He was still crying, but with an irresistible smile pasted across his face.
I was choking tears back myself. This was the meaning in life that people were talking about. This is what love is. I felt like I was melting.
I simultaneously felt more in control than ever before, while also as if every move was automatic and I was just here to experience the sensations.
He stared longingly into my eyes, searching for my thoughts. He seemed un-confident, as if something were amiss. I was surprised as I felt so in sync with him that I couldn't understand why he wouldn't feel the same way.

27. "Something wrong?" I asked.
He hesitated, then said, "I'm ugly."
My jaw dropped. It hadn't really occurred to me that he wasn't stereotypically beautiful. I felt nothing but love for him, and that love transcended into lust. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," I said, and I meant it. "Besides, it's your mind. Who couldn't fall in love with a mind like that?"
He choked up. He was blushing even darker than before. I didn't think he could've gotten any cuter but he did. I wiped the tears off his cheeks with my thumb and stared into his unblinking eyes.

28. Without unlocking our gaze, I started to unbutton his tight shirt. I broke the gaze to press my face up against his chest and inhaled his sweet, musky scent. I finished undoing the shirt and pulled it open. He wore a sleeveless undershirt beneath it, which was slightly stained and smelled of sweat. His skin glistened and the outline of his nipples shone through the shirt.

29. With a sudden burst of energy, I pulled violently at the hem of the tank top and tore it straight down the middle, exposing his thick, matted barrel chest and broad belly. I buried my face in his chest, showering his body with kisses. My cock was pressing hard against my jeans. I had never felt anything even vaguely like this before.
His eyes seemed to roll back into his head with pleasure. I resurfaced from the jungle of his chest fur to resume our kiss. His hands were rubbing up and down my body, exploring every contour. I focused mine on his head and face, massaging his temples and caressing his cheeks.

30. I pulled him into an upright sitting position on the floor. With our lips still locked, I rolled his shirt and undershirt off of his arms. I ran my hands up and down his smooth, soft back and squeezed our chests together.
He broke our kiss and said, "I haven't done this before."
"Me neither," I confessed.
31. I stood up and held out my hand to pull him up alongside me. I kicked the door shut, then held his hand and escorted him to the reception sofa in the middle of the lobby.

32. He shuffled behind me excitedly, pulling my polo up over my head. I chuckled and helped him take it off, then tossed it to the floor. 

33. I shoved him onto the couch and crawled on top of him, our naked chests pressing against each other. His body heat against mine felt amazing. His skin was damp with sweat, and he seemed to shift uncomfortably, clearly self-aware of his hyperactive sweat glands, but I loved it.

34. To show him, I leaned down and slowly licked across the chubby folds of his chest where the sweat had gathered, inhaling his salty aroma. He groaned softly and I felt it vibrate in his chest.
I began unfastening his belt in a frenzy. I'd never once wanted cock in my life and now it was suddenly as if I was in withdrawal, that it was something I needed more than air.

35. As I yanked his pants from his body, he sighed of relief as the pressure against his boner was released and it bounced into a tent in his loose boxers.
I switched from being frenzied to slowing down so that I could truly appreciate this moment. I tenderly pressed my hand against the fabric of his boxers, rubbing my palm against the underside of his penis. His whole body seemed to squirm with anticipation.

36. He started to sit up, reaching for my pants. I shoved him back down with a force I didn't know I had, and he seemed surprised. I was worried I had hurt him, but instead he seemed somehow even more turned on, as he unconsciously lifted his ass into the air, pushing his cock against my hand. I felt guilty that I wasn't letting him experience the same as I was, so I unbuckled my belt and slid my jeans down, exposing my own tented shorts.

37. I gently grabbed one of his hands and pulled it up to me, where he grasped my pulsating dick.

38. A dark, wet spot formed on his light boxers. I leaned down close to his crotch, pulled apart the fly of his boxers, and fished out his cock.
It was short, maybe 5 inches hard, but it was almost as thick as a soda can. It was dark, circumcised, and disappeared into a forest of thick black pubic hair.

39. I wanted to relish this moment, so instead of gobbling it all into my mouth at once, I gingerly licked the precum from his cock head. He moaned loudly as my tongue feathered its way across his throbbing cock. I knew that, like me, he must be aching, probably close to cumming even though I'd hardly done anything.

40. He was busy jerking my cock through my boxers and I was leaking myself.
With his other hand, he pulled down my shorts and I bounced up and down freely, slapping against his hands.

41. I relinquished my control, allowing him to sit up. He didn't waste time like I did and instead did his best to swallow my whole cock into his mouth all at once. Mine isn't quite as thick as his but quite a bit longer, and he struggled to fit it in. I gently pushed back on his bare shoulders, so that he wouldn't go too far and gag in his excitement. 

42. The feeling was otherworldly, and I was dizzy with sensation. His warm, wet mouth engulfed my cockhead and I was in heaven. With his lips sealed around my cock, though, I could no longer kneel down to return the favor. Instead, I wet my hand with spit and reached down to stroke him, incredibly slowly, as he seemed ready to shoot and I wanted this to go on all night. This time, a low guttural growl escaped him and vibrated against the dick I had buried into his mouth, further enhancing the way his tongue caressed the underside.

43. He backed off of my dick to make a request. Looking up into my eyes, he pleaded, "Use my ass."
I was taken aback for a moment. I knew the basics of sex but had never thought of myself as gay. I'd never been very interested in porn and had watched very little, but never gay porn. I knew of anal sex but it hadn't occurred to me that this would be something I would do with Harold. I flip-flopped from confident to nervous in an instant.

44. He seemed to tell from my expression. "You don't have to," he stammered.
"It's -- it's weird."
But I wanted to. I wanted more than anything to please him. To give him pleasure was to give me pleasure, because right now we were one and the same -- two passionate virgins wanting to explore as much of each other as possible.

45. I re-wetted my fingers with saliva and slid them down to his thighs. He instinctively spread his legs for me and lifted his ass off the sofa a few inches. His mouth returned around my cock and I was so startled with pleasure my knees nearly buckled. I regained my balance and caressed his inner thighs, admiring his beautiful, glistening figure.
The room was beginning to fill with a musky scent, and each breath stimulated me. I felt his hot exhalation from his nose onto my crotch as he made an impressive attempt to swallow it all at once, and it damn near sent me over the edge.
I returned my focus away from my own body and back to his. I tickled the hair around his asshole, then finally mustered up the courage and slowly pushed my index finger inside. It clenched tightly against my finger, almost as if pulling me inside. I reached deeper, almost hypnotized by the warm, enclosing feeling, until I brushed against something that felt ridged.

46. This made his cock twitch and suddenly I understood. I pulled out, sticking my fingers back into my mouth to get them properly soaked. Then I returned to explore deeper. This time I pressed two fingers in, as deep as I could. I again rubbed my index finger against the spot and watched his whole body tense up, muscles flexing. His cock was literally dripping precum.
I allowed myself to focus again on the blowjob. He began gently tugging on my balls, sucking loosely on the head of my engorged dick. I knew I was close, that I was approaching the point of no return. I wanted this to last forever, but I also couldn't bear to ask him to stop. Instead, I quickened the pace of my fingers, thrusting them with newfound violence against his prostate. He tried to scream but was too gagged by my cock, and instead a muffled breath escaped his lips.

47. And then he lost it, without me even touching his beautiful cock. It began erupting, throwing thick ropes of cum against his fat, furry stomach. The sight of this triggered my own, and I exploded. He had my cock buried deep in his mouth and my cum was streaming directly down his throat. He pulled back a little to flood his mouth with my load. Another projectile shot from his dick, flying so far it struck his cheek. We locked eyes, with me feeding him my seed while he sprayed his own all over his beautiful dark body.

48. After an eternity of orgasm, finally my penis began to soften, still hanging limply in his mouth. I watched him roll his tongue around it passively, swishing semen in his mouth to relish the flavor. The smell of his spunk mixed with the sweat, exuding an intoxicating aroma.
Finally the last of my energy seeped out of me and I collapsed onto the floor. He laid limply on the couch and I was flat on my back on the cold linoleum, catching my breath.
"I love you," I whispered, and I'd never meant anything more in my entire life. He reached down from the couch and weakly grasped my hand. His palm was warm and damp against mine. I closed my eyes and smiled.

49. I awoke, startled, to something wet. As everything came flooding back to me, I realized with terror that I was lying naked on the floor of the office. What if my team was here?
I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized it was still dark. I felt the warmth against my morning wood again and looked up. Harold was nestled between my legs, gently licking the underside of my cock. I shifted to let him know I was awake and he took the whole thing in his mouth.

50. I closed my eyes and was getting lost in the sensation when he abruptly sat up, pulling away. I opened my eyes. "Is everything okay?" I asked.
He said nothing. He simply squatted down above me and without a word, grabbed my cock and guided it until it rested lightly against his asshole.
The hairs around his ass tickled my head. Then he lowered himself ever so slowly, impaling himself inch after inch. I felt my cock enveloped in warmth and breathed a long sigh.
After he got about two-thirds of the length of my cock inside him, he seemed to struggle with it. His face contorted into a wince. "You don't have to," I started. With a resounding pop, he pushed me the rest of the way in, inhaling sharply and loudly, with a high-pitched voice.
51. I gasped. His balls rested gently against my pubes and his belly jiggled above me.
I reached up and toyed with his nipples playfully. He leaned down, struggling to reach, so I sat up to meet him halfway in a passionate kiss. Then he gestured for me to lay back down.
He began to piston himself up and down on my cock, first slowly but then gaining speed. This was even more arousing now that I was sober, and I knew I wouldn't last long. He grabbed my shoulders with his hands and rocked against my penis, pulling us into an embrace.
I reached between us to grab at his chubby dick and yanked on it. He yelped and rocked faster.
"Oh, FUCK!" I shouted loud enough to wake the city. I hit my limit and began emtpying my balls into his ass. He threw my hand aside and crushed our bodies together tightly. Then he let loose.
52. His cum was pouring between our two bodies, leaking between our chests and dribbling down my side. I felt the warm liquid spread, coating us both, sticking us together, dissolving us, molding us into one. As my hot jets of semen were blasting inside of him, I felt as if he was cumming inside me as well, as if my skin were absorbing his life-giving seed. Our mouths locked in passion as we fell into each other, lost in unimaginable pleasure.
After a few minutes, he pulled himself off of me. Our skin was bound together by dried cum and we slowly peeled apart. As he pulled off, I realized that my soft penis was still embedded in his ass and as it exited, I felt my own cum, still warm from being inside him, drip out onto my crotch.
53. I stood, shakily. We hugged, naked but no longer aroused, simply enjoying the feeling of each other's skin. I led him to the restroom where we wiped down each other's bodies, rinsing the dried cum from our chests.
We stepped back into the lobby and began dressing slowly, both of us exhausted and drained. The sun had begun rising and bright light creeped through the lobby windows. A clock flashed 8:00am and I scrambled to button up, suddenly aware of how soon any of my colleagues might show up.

54. As we buckled our belts, we returned to my office where he grabbed his janitorial cart and began wheeling it back to storage. I sat down, picked up my mug of old, stale coffee from last night, and, holding back disgust, downed the rest of it.
As my computer returned to life, I took one glance at the bug and knew immediately what was wrong. Turns out the "incubation" strategy really works. I jumped to my editor, rearranged a few lines of code, and, with a satisfying few clicks, published the change.

55. Then I popped open my email, drafting a quick message to the team saying that I'd be out sick.
I jogged down the hall to the maintenance closet, catching Harold as he was locking up. He seemed mechanical, almost zombified, as if waking up from a fairy tale and disappointed to be back in real life.
I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and he perked up. Without a word, I escorted him to the garage to take him home with me.
I canceled the follow-up with my shrink.

End Of The Story


Written by: Mack Marek
Illustrated by: Eduardo

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