Chapter 1
David Michealson, age twenty-four, had been the office boy for Neil Importing Co. for the past eight years. Office boy was all David was capable of. He could follow orders quite well but it was impossible for him to take the initiative in anything.
David quit school at the age of sixteen. School was too hard for him and he found it boring. He wanted to get out and do something in the world, and when he went looking for a job the best he would find was stock clerk or office boy. He chose office boy for no particular reason and was now making a career of it.
He was very friendly with everyone in the office. They all treated him kindly but not with much respect. They knew that although David was a twenty-four-year-old man, mentally he was only, perhaps, no more than a thirteen or fourteen-year-old child, and they all treated him that way.
David was quite satisfied with his job. He liked his surroundings and the people he worked for. The job was easy. Easy in the respect that it did not require him to think to any great degree. Everything was told to him.
Only occasionally did he hope that he could be as smart as some of the other people in the office and that he could give orders to people below him. But there was no one below David. He had the lowest position as well as the least paying job.
"David?" called Mrs. Walters, "Would you come here please?"
David nodded and walked towards her. Mrs. Walters, a secretary, also treated David as a child. But she also felt compassion for him. She felt that such a good looking man, such as David was, should have the right to do better for himself instead of being an office boy for eight long years and with prospects no brighter for the future.
David leaned on the desk with his hands and looked straight into Mrs. Walters' eyes. He said nothing, but waited for her command.
"Will you please get me a stack of envelopes. I've run out, and have to finish these letters before going to lunch."
The young man nodded and walked away.
"Always taking orders!" he said to himself.
In a few moments he returned with the envelopes and handed them to Mrs. Walters. She accepted them gratefully and immediately slipped one into the typewriter and began typing an address.
Poor David, she thought to herself, I wish I could help him. David, I don't think, is stupid. It's just that he's very lazy and afraid to make a decision by himself, because the decision he makes may be the wrong one which he may not be able to stand, psychologically.
For the next few minutes, as she continued typing the envelopes, she continued psychoanalyzing David.
"David?" she called again, "can you mail these letters for me?"
He came to the desk, took the letters from her, and walked away. When he was just ten feet from the desk she called him back.
"David," she asked, "would you like to go shopping with me this afternoon?"
"Sure!" said David. "I'd love to."
David and Mrs. Walters went shopping together, during their lunch hour, quite frequently. Mrs. Walters did it because she enjoyed being companionable and David did it because he enjoyed being helpful. At least to Mrs. Walters he enjoyed being helpful.
Mrs. Walters was a widow with a fourteen-year-old daughter. Her husband had been dead for more than four years. During that time she worked constantly to support herself and her daughter.
Occasionally, as she and David shopped, she would tell him about her problems, about the lack of funds, about the difficulties of raising a daughter and working at the same time, and the frustrations caused by not having a man in the house.
She often told David that she was afraid her daughter would fall into bad company. David, naturally, was unable to offer any assistance. But he somehow acted, figuratively, as her confessor. David felt sorry for the poor woman and, therefore, whenever she wanted to go shopping, David tagged along. It was the least he could do to a person with that many problems.
They had lunch and returned to the office. As soon as David walked in, one of the other secretaries approached him.
"Would you sharpen these for me, Davey?" she asked.
She knew that it wasn't necessary that he sharpen the pencils. That same secretary who gave him the job could have done it. But he resigned himself to the fact that he had to do it and went to the sharpener. As he put the pencils in, the thought occurred to him that the pencil was no longer a pencil and that the sharpener was something else also.
He saw the pencil as an erect male organ and the sharpener, now, was the companion female organ.
One day, he told himself, I'm gonna put my thing into some girl's thing and then I'll have a really good time.
David, sexually, was a failure. Even though he was twenty-four years old he had never been to bed with a girl. The best he had ever managed to get was the outside of some chick's bra.
The reason David never made it with girls was because he always treated them like animals. As soon as David got a girl into a car he would immediately begin trying to undress her and almost as quickly the girl would object, usually, vehemently. In most cases, the girls absolutely refused to ever see David again.
The only redeeming value which David had was the way he dressed. Each week David spent a good portion on clothes. David may have been the most uneducated man in the office, but he was definitely the best dressed.
His physical appearance was usually sexually attractive to most females and for that reason they would accept his invitation for a date. But once they went out with him, they quickly changed their minds about him.
David, by now, was spending most of his weekend evenings in bars and only occasionally would he have a date. He was becoming bored and frustrated by his lack of female companionship, but there was nothing he could do about it.
He sharpened the pencils and returned them to the secretary's desk. He brought the box to about a foot above the desk and then suddenly dropped it right in front of the secretary. She jumped back as the pencils bounced out onto the floor.
"What the hell are you doing?" exclaimed the secretary.
"You wanted your pencils sharpened, didn't you? Well, I've sharpened them."
"That's not how you give something to somebody," she said referring to the box of pencils. "Would you kindly pick up that pencil?"
He bent down and picked it up and then threw it into the box. At first he was tempted not to pick it up, but he knew that it might get him fired, or at least cause an argument with the girl, which, in either case, he would lose.
For the rest of the day David did all the jobs the rest of the workers were too lazy to do. He ran errands, licked stamps, folded letters, and so on.
When he arrived home that evening his mother had dinner prepared on the table.
"How was work today, Davey Boy?" his mother asked in her usual overprotective motherly fashion.
"Just the same as any other day, Mom," he sighed. He sat by the kitchen table and picked up the fork to begin eating.
"Wait for your father," his mother reprimanded.
David dropped the fork and leaned his elbows on the table to wait. His mother called into the living room and in a few moments his father appeared wearing a dirty T-shirt and carrying an evening paper.
"How was work today, Son?" his father asked as he glanced at the dinner plates filled with food.
"As usual, Pop," David muttered. Each night for the past eight years his parents always asked the same questions and David always gave the same answers. It was becoming a habit, and habits were the only things David was capable of handling.
David glanced around the table and finally noticed that there were just three plates. "How come there are only three dishes," he asked his mother. "Ain't Richie eating with us tonight?"
"He's eating at his girl friend's house," his father answered as he stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth and began chewing on it.
Richie was David's younger brother. He was just twenty years old and quite unlike David. He was not as good looking but much more intelligent than his older brother. His intelligence for his looks. If he couldn't attract a girl physically he could easily attract her mentally. He knew exactly what to say and what to do when it came to members of the opposite sex.
He was never rough like his brother. Richie knew when to be gentle and when to be aggressive whereas David knew only how to be aggressive.
By the time Richie was eighteen he already had had his fill of sexual experiences. In a three-year period, from the time he was fifteen until he was eighteen he experimented with every kind of sex and with a number of different girls. Just after he turned eighteen he decided that he had his fill of sex and decided to settle down with just one girl.
In the last two years Richie had sex with just one girl, and only rarely would he try someone else. He was satisfied with his girl friend and did not find it necessary to play the field.
"Where are you going tonight?" his father asked with a mouthful of partially chewed food.
"I donno," David mumbled. "I'll probably end up going to Sam's, as usual."
"Why don't you find yourself a nice girl?" his mother recommended.
"Yeah," David smiled, "I've been trying long enough but I just don't seem to be able to hit it off with any of the girls around here."
"Your Aunt Tina," his mother suggested, "has a cousin who has a friend whose sister-in-law knows a nice girl just right for you."
David, after four years of his parents trying to marry him off, was disgusted with the whole business. He wanted to tell his parents to just leave him alone and that he would find the girl he wanted to marry. But, he knew, he wasn't forceful enough and that he would never do it. Instead he said, "Tell Aunt Tina to bring her around and maybe I'll take her out."
"Good!" his mother said happily, "I'll tell her. She tells me she's a very nice girl. Maybe she'd be just right for you."
"Well," David said pensively, "we'll see."
"You oughta start saving your money for the day you do get married. You know that David, don't you?"
"Yes, Mom, I know."
They finished dinner and his father returned to the living room to finish reading his paper. David helped his mother clear the table. Each time David ate at home, which was nearly every day, it was his job to help his mother clear the table and help wash and dry the dishes. David accepted this as natural and never fought it. It was systematic and usual and easy for David to comprehend. It never occurred to him to ask why his brother never helped.
Richie, ever since he was young, always managed to come up with convincing reasons why he should not help clear the table. His mother always accepted the reason and then would turn to David and ask for his assistance, which he readily gave.
Each night, after dinner, David, his mother and his father would go into the living room and watch television for an hour. After the hour was through, his parents, usually, would go to bed and David would go out.
In Sam's David always sat at the table with the same small circle of friends, and they always discussed the same things. David, for the most part, remained silent during the discussions unless he was given the opportunity to repeat a phrase he was quite familiar with and that was quickly accepted by his friends. He always drank the same beer and always in the same quantity: five mugs. Five mugs of beer made him feel good but not high. He felt he was capable of doing anything after he had a few drinks unless, of course, he really had to do it.
At eleven o'clock he left the bar and returned home. He went into the bathroom and quickly stripped to take his shower.
As the warm water beat against his body his own nakedness, accompanied by fantasies of naked females, caused an erection. He leaned against the wall of the shower stall and watched as his penis grew.
His puerile organ was an instrument of extraordinary beauty, longer and more slender than the average man's at that age. As it stood out firmly from between his legs it took on a gentle upward curve. The rounded bulb, distended and with the foreskin tautly stretched, was in perfect proportion to the smooth shaft bearing it. There was no hint of a common or club-like coarseness. The color of the head was a very fine and uniform rose which melted into the paler pink of the reversed foreskin and which then melted into the light brown of the shaft itself.
Now, under the usual manipulations of his fingers the whole shaft quivered slightly. As he left-hand rubbed the tender skin of his testicles, the right hand slowly stroked the now fully erect organ.
As the sensations spread from the tip of his organ down to his legs he pressed his wide shoulders harder against the wall. He spread his feet apart a few feet and watched as the water beat against the throbbing organ. His hand moved faster as he sensed the impending orgasm. His hips thrust forward in time with the rhythmic stroke of his hand until finally his hips were moving frantically.
He felt the sperm gather at the base of his cock and prepared himself for the moment.
Suddenly, uncontrollably, his hips and legs tightened as he thrust his body fully forward, forming an arch against the wall.
With this final thrust he tightly closed his eyes and concentrated all the power of his muscles into the one area of his groin.
His hand, now that his eyes were closed, was replaced by an imaginary vagina.
He sensed the sperm rushing through the thin tubes of his testicles and finally burst through the head of his organ. The immeasurably erect cock throbbed a half dozen times as David felt the warm milky sperm pound through his penis and shoot into the air.
Even after the organ stopped discharging the muscles still quivered and throbbed, trying to force every last drop out of his body.
He leaned against the wall and sighed deeply. Droplets of salty water dripped down his brow and slid across his face. He opened his eyes and looked at the opposite wall.
A long stream of milky white fluid slowly slipped down the wall and formed a projection from the mass of fluid which stood at the same height as David's groin. Further down the wall, a few inches above the floor, was a smaller mass of liquid which led to a progressively smaller trail of white droplets. Directly beneath his now semi-erect penis was the final droplet, which he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger from the base of the organ through the head.
He washed the salty perspiration from his body and then aimed the shower head downwards against the wall so the scum would flow down the drain.
David turned off the water and stepped from the stall. The light from above glistened against his firm young body and reflected from every detail of the muscular youth.
David was about five eleven and weighed just a hundred and seventy pounds. His brown hair, cut long, was pressed against his forehead by the weight of the water. His blue eyes twinkled constantly at everything he saw. His well-developed arms reached for a towel and wrapped it around his trim waist.
With the towel still around his waist he walked to his bedroom. After he had entered he pulled the towel off to dry himself.
He climbed, naked, between the sheets and within moments was sound asleep.