“Imported”

By Erin O’Riordan


Phil took a break from the night’s receipts to rub his temples and look up at the clock.  It was ten minutes past
closing time, and Phil was alone in the store.  It had been a long, busy day.  He sighed as he remembered that
it was still two weeks until Christmas Eve.  He worked at the Pier 1 in one of the busiest shopping centers on
Main Street, the busiest shopping street in town.  His days were only going to get more hectic.  

All he wanted before he had to step out into the winter chill was a hot cup of coffee.  All he wanted before the
next chaotic shopping day was a good, long rest.

Then, as if in answer to his prayers, there was a knock on the locked shop door.  Through the glass, Phil
could see that it was Anand.  Anand owned and worked at the Marathon gas station
at Main Street’s busiest intersection, a mile south of Pier 1.  

It had been a little over a month since the night Phil met Anand.  He’d made a late-night run to the gas station
for something to eat after a particularly long shift.  At first glance, the hot, forty-ish gas station owner seemed
to be stocking the magazine rack.  But when Phil went back for a second glance, he realized that Anand was
actually sneaking looks at a copy of *Playgirl*.

After a few words of introduction, Phil had simply walked over to Anand, unzipped his khakis, and let his cock
out.  “It’s beautiful,” Anand had said.  He’d hesitated only a moment before reaching out to touch Phil.  That
first, slight touch from Anand’s fingers sent sparks of carnal electricity through Phil’s body.  Instinctively Phil’s
hips began pumping as Anand closed his mouth around the meaty head of Phil’s pulsing cock.  Anand sucked
eagerly, letting his hot spit slide between his own fingers as he jacked Phil off at the same time.  

Staring off into the darkened corners of the shop, Phil closed his eyes and remembered how he’d shot all over
the magazine rack that night, dribbling the smiling face of Senator Hillary Clinton on the cover of a *Newsweek*
with his come.  

Anand had looked at Phil’s spent load and frowned.  “Oh man,” he’d said.  His English was clear and
confident, though clearly not his first language.  He had a hint of a British accent that Phil found charming.  
“That was inventory.”

Phil had laughed.  “I’ll pay for it,” he’d told Anand.  “I’ll take the *Playgirl*, too.”

They’d been lucky that the Marathon station hadn’t had any other patrons that hour.

Shaking his head and bringing his thoughts back to the present, Phil opened the door.  He let Anand in and
locked the door behind him.  “Good evening,” Anand said, his words proper as usual.   “I’ve brought you some
coffee.”

“Thanks,” Phil said, taking one of the tall foam cups from Anand’s hands.  He sipped the hot coffee gratefully.  
“I haven’t had anything to drink all day.”  The coffee, he thought, was steaming hot, brown and sweet.  Just like
Anand’s lips.  Phil’s cock, already swollen from the memories of that night at the gas station, began to strain
against the confines of his tight khakis.

Just as these erotic thoughts were beginning to take over Phil’s mind, Anand leaned in for a kiss.  Anand
forced his tongue into Phil’s mouth, almost violently.  Phil kissed back eagerly, pressing himself up against
Anand’s body.  Anand reached under Phil’s green work apron and down the front of Phil’s neatly ironed
pants.  He felt the ready hardness of Phil’s erection.    

“Let’s go in the back,” Phil said, looking anxiously out the store’s glass front and grabbing Anand’s hand.  He’d
turned off most of the lights inside, and didn’t think anyone could see them, but he wanted to be careful.  They
set their empty coffee cups down on the counter and went into the store room.  

The store room was stocked with full-length mirrors with teak frames, antique-style bird cages, and fat green-
and-purple armchairs.  There were also two elegant carved wooden love seats, their cushions upholstered
with a gorgeous golden fabric.

For a moment Anand stared at these imported love seats, wondering where they’d been imported from.  
Perhaps they were from India.  The thought of India reminded Anand of his mother and father back home, and
his wife here in America.  Anand loved them all dearly, but they would never understand this.  

He wondered himself sometimes why a man whose parents had arranged such a good marriage for him would
be here with Phil.  Why did he not go home to his wife after his long hours at the gas station?  Why did it mean
so much to him to be here, sneaking around the import shop at night, lusting after this twenty-something white
boy, letting the boy shove his cock up Anand’s ass?

Anand looked at Phil.  Phil was naked now, his once-perfect clothes and green apron in a pile on the floor.  
Phil was sitting on one of the green armchairs and stroking his impatiently-waiting cock, which twitched and
jerked with the friction of Phil’s fingers.  Phil had a beautiful cock, the first circumcised one Anand had ever
seen.  Anand remembered being twenty-some years old like Phil, his cock always so ready and willing.

“Come on,” Phil said.  “You want this, don’t you?  Wait, you don’t have to say anything.  I can see it in your
eyes.”  Phil’s sandy blond hair hung in his half-closed eyes.  His voice was casual and urgent at the same
time.  

Anand got undressed slowly, watching Phil all the while.  He laid his shirt, his pants, and his shorts on the arm
of one of those lovely golden love seats.  He walked slowly over to Phil, leaning in to meet his lips, kissing him
as Phil ran his fingers down the naked brown skin of Anand’s chest.

Then Anand lay on his side on the love seat.  

Desire burning in his bright green eyes, Phil got up from the armchair.  He knelt on the hard concrete floor
beside the love seat.  For just a moment, he looked into Anand’s eyes.  Few words had been exchanged, but
few were needed.  There were mutual needs to be met, and each knew his role in the drama by now.

Anand reached out first, to touch Phil’s pale cheek and draw him in closer.  Phil, hungry with need, parted his
lips slightly as he bent to kiss Anand.  He let Anand make the next move, sliding his tongue inside Phil’s
mouth.  

“Suck my cock,” Phil demanded, taking hold of Anand’s hand and placing it on his waiting member.  “Suck it
like you did that night at the gas station.”

Anand’s gaze never left Phil’s face as he did what he was told, taking the length of Phil’s cock deep into his
mouth.  Phil’s fingers played with the soft black mass of Anand’s hair, but Phil wasn’t aware of what his fingers
were doing.  His mind and body were too consumed with the ecstasy of Anand’s hot mouth licking and sucking
him, the pressure of Anand’s tongue against the big vein at the head of his dick.  

Phil watched Anand’s head bobbing, hypnotized by the movement.  Anand sucked dick so eagerly; Phil
wondered if he was Anand’s first.  The thought crossed his mind briefly, soon eclipsed by the amazing tension
Anand’s mouth was creating in Phil’s body.  Phil was aware of the muscles of his asshole clenching.  The
tightness was unbearable but brief.  Phil’s cock jerked violently, spewing bursts of semen onto Anand’s
tongue.  

When Phil’s eyes opened, he looked down to watch Anand wiping a few drops of come away from his mouth
with the back of his hand.

“That was . . .” Phil started to speak, but he couldn’t think of the right word.  All he knew was that Anand gave
the best head Phil had ever had in his life.

Anand shifted the weight of his body back to the love seat.  His fingers stayed around Phil’s wet cock, stroking
it, willing it back to hardness.

Phil didn’t disappoint him.

Though there was not much room for both of them on the love seat, Phil lowered his body onto Anand’s.  
Anand felt Phil spread his buttocks and find his asshole with his fingers.  Anand reached underneath his own
body and rubbed his aching cock as Phil’s fingers explored the tight, willing orifice.

Phil was ready with a tube of lube, and applied it liberally.  He wiped off his lubed-up fingers on his own cock.  

“Is that what you wanted?” Phil asked teasingly.

Anand stroked his cock earnestly now, attempting to give himself what Phil was denying him.  “Yes,” he said.

“Say it,” Phil insisted.  “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Anand said, reaching back to touch Phil’s cock.

“Fuck you how?” Phil demanded in Anand’s ear.  “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Stick it up my ass,” Anand begged.  He was jacking himself off furiously now; Phil could feel Anand’s body
vibrating underneath him.

Phil parted Anand’s buttocks again, coyly letting the slippery head of his cock rest against Anand’s asshole.

“Now,” Anand said desperately.  

Phil’s laughter rang in Anand’s ears.  Phil’s cock slid easily into Anand’s ass.  Phil thrust slowly and gently at
first.  Then his eagerness got the better of him.  Phil drove his cock harder and deeper into Anand.  Anand
grunted with the strain of Phil’s fat cock moving deep inside of him.

As Phil hammered away at him, Anand managed to stroke his own cock.  The strokes of his fingers matched
Phil’s rhythm.  When Phil’s cock pulsed and jerked with Phil’s orgasm, Anand came along with him.  

Phil wrapped his arms around Anand and kissed the back of his neck, his strong brown shoulders.  “Is that
what you wanted, Anand?” Phil said.

“Yes,” Anand said breathlessly.  

Phil withdrew his cock from Anand’s ass and dismounted.  It suddenly occurred to Phil that it was cold in the
back room.  He dashed for his clothes, wishing he could take a hot shower.  As he dressed, he watched Anand
lying on the love seat, exhausted from the intense pounding Phil had given him.

After a moment, Anand got up.  He went for his neatly folded clothes and began to get dressed.

“Shit,” Phil said as Anand left the love seat.

“What?”

Phil pointed to the gold fabric of the love seat.  Where Anand had been, there was now a slick semen stain
glistening against the bright fabric.  Anand frowned.

“Sorry, Phil,” he said.  “This isn’t like the *Newsweek* you jizzed on at my Marathon Station.  I’d offer to buy it
from you, but . . .”  He looked at the price tag.  “I don’t happen to have $700 on me.  And I doubt my wife would
understand if I brought home a love seat.  Especially one that doesn’t match with anything in my house.”  He
laughed nervously, then finished putting his pants back on.  

“Shit,” Phil repeated.  “I can’t very well leave it like that for my boss to find tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t know,” Anand said.  “I’ve seen some of the girls you work with.  Some of them look slutty.  Tell your
boss you did it with one of them, and he’ll probably understand.”

Phil laughed at the suggestion.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I probably could.”  He knelt down to find the care
instructions tag, hidden under the love seat’s cushion.  “Luckily it’s synthetic and not really satin.  I’m pretty
sure semen comes out of synthetics.”

As Phil stood over the sink in the employee restroom, soaking a handful of paper towels that he could use to
blot out the stain, Anand kissed the back of Phil’s neck.  “I have to go,” he said.

Phil turned the water off, drop the towels, and spun around.  He caught Anand in a tight embrace, making sure
that the front of his body rubbed up against the front of Anand’s.  They kissed goodbye.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Phil said.

“Any time,” Anand replied.  “Thanks for . . . you know.”

“ . . .Riding your hot little asshole?”

“Yeah,” Anand said, looking down, suddenly ashamed.  

Phil followed Anand to the front door, unlocked it, and let Anand out.  As his lover disappeared under the
bright overhead lights of the parking lot, Phil called out, “I’m working late tomorrow night, too!”

“I’ll see you then,” Anand called back.