Unique Combo

Garbage man and Business Analyst

God, I love LA. Walking from my new apartment, a smile on my face starts to show and pop songs in my noise-cancelling ear buds blast. I’m walking to my new-ish job as a business analyst for one of the many corporate overseers, a Fortune 500 company. Making my way through a construction zone, I walk the narrow, uneven surface. I lick a shattered blue beer bottle out of the way and it slides into the construction zone. To my horror, my eyes dash left and I see said beer bottle cut through the air and hit one of the guy’s shins. I curse a little and yell a quick apology, moving to return my earbuds to my ear when I hear, “Asshole!”. I turn around, looking to the guy. I turn around to a huge, bearded wall of a man. Incredibly light brown eyes shine in the sun. Ok, so a little intimidating, but I’ll be fine. Right? “Watch it. You’re the one who failed to clean up his own construction zone.” I spat. Suddenly, a slightly sheepish look overcame his hard expression, but it was gone in an instant. “I’m actually a sanitation worker.” He said, maybe a little nervously “Shove it up your ass. Move along.” I darted a death stare and walked away. I got to my office building, a brutalist combination of white concrete and thin, crystal-clear glass. I swiped my ID and headed into work, opening a presentation for my client. As an hour or two passes, the guy comes back to my mind. The garbage guy, was it? What even gives him the right to speak to me that way? What I will say is that he looked warm. It was a chilly morning—no wind, luckily—but he came prepared with a thick, hybrid sweatshirt/flannel. My thin dress shirt did nothing against the icy air, but at least it was a little hotter then. I went to go close my laptop to take a lunch break, but I remembered the only way in and out of the office was that construction passageway. He probably won’t notice me, and I was starving, so here goes nothing. I tipped my head down, only peeping a glance towards the workers. I recognized him right away, he was hard to miss. He was a thick, tall dude, no one would’ve missed him. He had taken off the comfy-looking hoodie, and was wearing what could only be described as a wife-beater tank top. It was white, but looked fairly clean apart from a few stains. I looked away, not risking further ruining my day. I mercifully got to the food cart across the street without being harassed by the garbage man. I gratefully grabbed my gyro wrap and dug into it, taking a large bite as I walked. As I hummed along while devouring the wrap, suddenly a large hand yanked at my food, grabbing it in the air. “Hey what the fu-“ I looked up to see the nameless garbage man. His shirt was stained now, not only with sweat but with other indistinguishable fluids. Yikes. “Give me my food, garbage man. Some of us actually have work.” At that, his eyebrows twisted angrily. Before I knew it, an anaconda of an arm snakes around me, pulling my ID from its clip on my belt. He held it with the gyro, high above my head. “You give that back right now you psycho!!” I screamed, and he only laughed a little. “Since you’re the hard worker here, how about you lug that bag to the bin?” I quaked with rage. How does this idiot think he has the right to give me orders. I rolled my eyes angrily and opened my phone to see an urgent notification. My meeting’s in ten minutes. Fuck. I jumped to grab the gyro and ID, but he lifted his hand above his head and I couldn’t reach it. “Fine. Fucking psycho.” I yelled as I took the huge bag in my hands. “It isn’t that hard. I don’t know why I have to do your job for you.” I pulled at the bag, but it barely budged. I pulled again, hard, and got it to lift off the ground. I yanked it the ten feet to the garbage bin, and as I swung it to throw in the trash, the bag exploded. Food waste and dust flew everywhere, and I yelled out and dropped the bag. Disgusted, mortified, and justifiably enraged, I stomped over to the man, and held out my hand. He stopped laughing to shove the ID in my hand and the gyro to my other hand, wiping away a piece of cobbled concrete on my shoulder. He looked pleased, and teased: “Good boy!” He waited to laugh, but my cheeks instantly turned red. My dick started a little—it didn’t go hard but it made a small bulge. His eyes flicked down for a split second, and after a stood frozen for a few long seconds, I spat out quietly, “Get lost, Garbage Man.” He yelled back. “It’s actually Christopher.” I narrowed my eyes but didn’t turn back, speed-walking to my office. I was a little confused and a lot infatuated, cruising my meetings with my head in the garbage—Christopher, that is. I knew I was attracted to men, but I never really had a big crush or kind on anyone. I was getting kind of obsessed, but it was time to clock out. Well not literally, I just packed my laptop and turned to the elevator. As I waited in the elevator—yes, it was a slow one—I searched up the term ‘good boy.’ It came in a few submissive blogs, and I quickly scrolled through them. I jumped as the elevator dinged, and I harshly crossed the lobby to leave the building. I walked in the chilly evening, again, dress shirt was too cold, when I saw a large figure waiting. I was a little scared, but I knew I was a fairly large man and had nothing to be afraid of. I kept walking, when suddenly he cut in front of me. I looked up at a jet-black beard and bushy eyebrows, recognizing the garbage man—Christopher. “Uh. Hi-move?” I mumbled. He looked a little nervous, his upper lip’s hairs twitching a little. I tried not to show a hint of a smile as the large, burly man looking nervous talking to me was a little strange. “Would you, would you like to go on a date? Get dinner?” I was a little thrown, and I wasn’t really an adventurous person, but the way his shirt tightened around bulges in his biceps and the way that the streetlights were captured inside his large, brown eyes had me say “Uh-yep-yeah sure.” He warmed up a little—kind of like a huge puppy—but only for a second. He squeezed my hand with very calloused fingers, and I sighed a breath I’d been holding for a few minutes.

I walked to my car, but he tugged me along to a beat-up blue pickup truck. He dropped his keys, and mumbled “pick that up for me?” I nodded and took the heavy ring of keys in my hand, bending back up to pick it to him. He nodded, ruffling my hair a little. His hand dwarfed mine, and I wasn’t a small man. I was around 160 points of cut muscle, and around 5’10.5”—yes, the half is important. But Christopher dwarfed me, my head reaching around to the top of his armpit. He opened the door for me, boosting me up and skipped to his seat, jumping in. He set some loud old country songs, and started the car. After a few minutes of pretty pleasant conversation, I reached over to change the radio from the repetitive country songs, but he clicked his tongue and used one hand to place my hand back on my lap. His thumb tickled the inside of my thigh while my hand was trapped under a warm hand getting sweaty. He took me to a comfort-food Italian restaurant that was surprisingly nice that did not skimp on a single noodle. Within a few minutes, we were both devouring. I actually had a surprisingly good time, all things considered. I realized I’d been talking a lot myself, and he just nodded with interest, wide brown eyes staring deep into my soul. After I put my plate down—it was way too much food, I had barely finished half of it—Christopher hungrily pawed at my plate, and I moved it to his side of the table and cleared his empty plate. I watched him eat for a minute. In all seriousness, he was a very large guy and most likely needed to eat a ton. He shoveled the vodka sauce pasta to his mouth, spilling a little. “Get that for me?” He asked with warm eyes, and I quickly brought a napkin to his chest, rubbing it and getting the stain out. I also took the opportunity to rub his beard with a napkin, cleaning it. He nodded and smiled at me, which genuinely warmed my heart. No, really. He continued eating until he finished, and I sipped the rest of my wine. We exited the building, and since we came in one car, I hopped into his truck. “Come home with me?” He said with a small, flirtatious half-grin. I nodded, “Yes, sir!” I said, sighing comfortably as I settled into the seats. For a beaten-up car, it was very comfortable. Soft, cushioned seats and lots of leg room. Very unlike my unforgiving sporty seats, which I feared to wear jeans as to not stain the leather. He pulled over to surprisingly nice house. It wasn’t huge, but larger than my apartment for sure and was fairly recently renovated. He punched in his code, large fingers dwarfing the keypad. I tried to peak, I’m not really sure why. As we stepped into his house, it was pretty well-kept. He sat me down on an extremely-comfortable sofa in the living room as he went to get some popcorn. He chose a movie—I was kind of glad I didn’t have to. I just need to shut off my brain a bit. “Massage.” He said, as he lifted his feet up onto my lap. He gave me a look that was both weirdly assertive but with those big-bear puppy eyes. I quickly complied, my hands kneading huge feet. Now, I know you probably think I’m exaggerating, but no. These feet were pretty massive. They smelled bad, like dirty feet and sweat. I was getting a little hazy from the smell, and maybe the wine. I continued on kneading, as he relaxed and shoved them high on my lap. Now, the strong smell of dirty feet clouded my nose, but I didn’t say anything, just massaged his arches as we watched the movie. This was nice. Too nice. I hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long while. Besides the strong smell of dank socks and sweat, I was enjoying myself. I stopped to eat popcorn, and he clicked his mouth. I almost automatically dropped it in my lap and continued massaging. I picked up a kernel a minute later from the top of his foot. It was warm and delicious, with an aftertaste of feet. At first, I almost kind of vomited at it, but as we kept watching the movie I kept eating the kernels that fell in between his feet. I licked my fingers and continued massaging, my fingers a little damp from his sweat and my spit. I felt a little sleepy. His feet pulled away, and I opened my eyes, a little disappointed. “Wait no, I’m awake, I’m awake.”
“No little bird, don’t lie. It’s ok.” I wasn’t very little, but he said it in a very soothing voice. I went limp, and he climbed over me, resting on top of me. Just go to sleep, I’ll take care of the rest. Before I told him I usually sleep with clothes on, he carefully but swiftly removed my uncomfortable pants. He unbuttoned my dress shirt as my eyes started to close. He laid back on top of me, fully clothed. I pulled at his clothes a little, but he shushed me to sleep. His body kind of crushed mine, but in a pretty good way. My head was lodged between chest and a very muscular arm, the area right outside of the armpit. A strong smell of body odor and thick sweat covered my nostrils. I was way too sleepy to complain, and I was so comfortable, that I just drifted to sleep.

It was Saturday morning. I woke up completely constricted, panicking for just a split second before realizing where I was. We hadn’t…done anything, just slept? That’s what I remembered. I tried to remove my hands from underneath his body, but only managed to dislodge my left arm. I used my chin to move my head away from his armpit, and looked up at his sleeping face. He was very handsome like this, peaceful. I watched him for a while. His hot breath landed on my mouth every few seconds. I gave him the smallest of kisses, before I moved to get him off me. I struggled a little, but didn’t manage to pull free. “Christopher. Christopher!” I said, shaking him a little. Suddenly, tired eyes opened, and giant brown orbs looked down on me, a little confused. Suddenly, I was regretting waking him up. What if he needed this sleep? His arms curled around me, lifting me and placing me by his side, shoving my head between his pecs. His legs curled around mine, and a deep sigh escaped his lungs. “Hi there,” a very ragged, deep morning voice crackled. My dick started to harden a little from the intimacy, as his eyes searched my face. I was reminded I was only in my underwear as his soft clothes rubbed against me. He groaned, lifting us up. “Make some coffee,” he grumbled softly, and I complied, relieved and saddened to get out from under Christopher’s deep stares. As I scrambled around to find the coffee pot, pods, and machine, Christopher awakened in the living room. When I came up with two cups of coffee, he had changed clothes, but still smelled the same. I gave him the larger cup, for obvious size reasons, and we drank quietly for a minute. “I have to tell you something.” He said suddenly. That was a little concerning, considering this was our first sleepover, if you will. “I am a very dominant person, if you haven’t been able to tell. But I’ve been covering it a little. Im actually very dominant, and I like to be dominant in relationships.” I nodded. That’s fine, I guess. “So if we continue whatever this is, which I hope we do, know that I’m a dominant. Very much so.” I paused for a second, then asked, “so do I have to be anything? Because-“
“No. I would teach you. If you didn’t know how to be a dominant’s sub, I’d teach you.” This sounded alright. He was very hot, and there were a few moments where he was pretty commanding. It turned me on, but it also made me feel a little less tired of doing everything all the time. I nodded. “Ok.”
“This is your only warning. And once you’re in it, it’s not as easy to get out.” I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, I get it Chris.” His hand squeezed my chin hard. “Well then, here we go. First of all, it’s Christopher,” he said, landing a slight slap to my face, which stung a tiny bit, “and second, don’t roll your eyes at me.” He said, his voice deep and domineering. Another light swat landed on my cheek, and he released my face. “I-I’m sorry.” I said. I felt a little down. “He smiled warmly. It’s okay, you’re learning. I’m just teaching you, and that’s how I teach.” He said, and I nodded, cuddling into his warmth. It was a weekend, so I wasn’t too worried about making to any plans, I didn’t really have any. “Well, first things first,” he said, taking my coffee and downing it, “no more coffee—for you, that is.” I started to protest, but his hand squeezed my face again, and I nodded. “Okay.” He had a point. He spoke up again. “Now, I ate all that food yesterday, so now my abs are turned to mush.” I saw hard-defined abs through his tank top yesterday. He took my hand down his hard body, and a soft bit of flesh emerged on the bottom of his stomach. “Massage my belly a little.” He said. I sighed, rubbing the belly a little. He pulled up his shirt, and I kept rubbing over the hairy stomach. It doesn’t seem he ever shaved his body, as it was all hairy. I liked it. Maybe more than what I was willing to say. “Some things that really get me going are body worship. Rubbing, licking, massaging. I need that from you.” I nodded. “I also decide when you come, okay? That means you don’t come when I’m not around or I didn’t say so, got it?” I nodded against his belly. “Yes, Christopher.” He pet my head warmly. “You will also be constrained. Mentally, bodily, the works. Next time you disobey, it’s my feet that will deliver the slaps. Trust me, it’s worse. I nodded again. “Yes Christopher.” I said. I started licking at his belly a little, and he moaned in agreement. I stuck my tongue in his flat bellybutton. He eventually had me go get the food he had ordered from the door. Fresh waffles and fruit, along with some orange juice. “Get me a bowl and one utensil set.” He said. I put both boxes of food on his lap, and sat next to him, a little hungry. “Well, I eat first, and you will eat whatever’s left.” I understood—he was a big man, and needed to get his calories in. As he ate, I idly massaged his feet a little. When he was done eating, he had eaten one entire meal and around half to three quarters of the second. I licked my lips, a little hungry. “Another thing we have to do is get you trained to worship my smells and tastes. That one’s tougher, but you can do it, right?” I nodded quickly, “Yes, sir.” He opened the orange juice. He reached down to remove his sock from yesterday and last night off his foot, and put it in the bowl. A few dirt pieces from his foot and sock dropped into the bowl. Then, he poured orange juice over it, and into the bowl. He stopped, removing his foot and raising the bowl to my lips. “This will help you, won’t it little bird?” He whispered as he tipped the bowl, and I quickly swallowed. It tasted strongly of dirty feet and sweat, but I was getting used to the smell and taste. It was familiar and very manly. We did this until I finished the bottle and I had swallowed a few dirt pieces from his foot. I went to the kitchen to get a towel to dry off his foot, and we sat down. He took off his shirt abruptly. “I-uh” I mumbled, my dick skyrocketing in my skimpy underwear. His body was tan, and highly toned. Thick, meaty muscles in his large chest and huge arms bulged. Thick, slightly curly black hair danced like the shadows and details of an oil painting. Some of the thick fur shined and curled more from sweat, especially near his armpits. He sat me down next to him. With a large hand I could not resist if I wanted to, he shoved my nose straight into the opening of his armpit. Thick, cloudy smells of old sweat and man entered my lungs. I coughed a little and choked, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t dislodge myself from his arm holding me to his armpit. I relented, breathing in a desperate large breath. Eventually, I got more used to it. It was an awful smell for sure, the most rancid and stinky of a man’s body. But eventually its warmth became constant. I was under there for more than an hour, maybe two. After that, he pulled me out. His wet sweat stuck my hair to my forehead. The air seemed cold, and thin. I moved forward, breathing in the armpit again. It was a little bit of relief. I stayed in the close vicinity of his armpit for a while. It seemed safe. Even though the smell was awful, I do not remember a time where I could just lay somewhere warm and be pet gently. Every time I smelled his armpit, his aggressive touch, the same hand that beat me, would become soft and he would pet my head.

After a few hours of watching tv, Christopher continued training me. If I smelled his body odor in any way, his mean hands would turn kind. He spent the night torturing my nipples, balls, and face. He grabbed at my nose and mouth, rubbed my spit and his all over my face. He picked at my nipples, pinching and pulling them from my body. He also pulled my balls far from my body, placing uncomfortable pressure on my orbs. But if I reached to smell a body part of his, his touch turned soft. Suddenly, the hard hands on my balls massaged them. I loaned loudly as the punishing thumb started massaging my balls. After a few moments, the pungent smell got to me and I pulled away. He ripped a pubic hair from around the base of my cock. I yelled out, and he continued his rounds of torment. Eventually, everything became simple. The smell of sweat was turning sweet and warm, the feeling of comfort. When I wasn’t smelling Christopher’s body odor, I was on edge a little. Unpredictability and pain always ensued. Eventually, Christopher tapped my head. I had fallen asleep in the back of his knee.
“Go shower. Clean everything out. Brush your teeth, then get me some clean boxers and wait outside my door.” I nodded. “Yes, Christopher.” I went to shower feeling fairly confused. As I turned on the water and started lathering myself, the door opened. Christopher came in silently. He opened the shower door, and pulled down his pants. “Hi there. It’s ok, just be still.” He took his cock in his hand, and pointed it up. A hot stream of piss flew out from his slit, roughly hitting my thigh. He continued spraying over my body, aiming some up to hit my chest hair. He zipped his pants off and turned off my water. I smelt a little of pee, but most of it had gotten off from the shower water. He tossed me a towel and started undressing. I looked away, but couldn’t help looking in the mirror. Thick muscles decorated an uncut body. It was sort-of a muscular dad bod in a way, with a small belly and thick, tree-trunk thighs. Thick hair covered his entire body, curling in length on his chest, stomach, and thighs. He jumped into a loose boxers pair and took the back of my neck in his hand. He led me to his bedroom, and shoved me on his bed. I cupped my dick, not only from the intense stimulation all the moving fabric gave me, but also feeling vulnerable. I was naked in his bed and he had a long boxers pair covering a fairly large cock. He frowned. A hard slap landed on my cheek, and my head snapped to the side. “Don’t hide this little cock from me, ever.” He said, smiling evilly. He pinched at my head and skin around my cock cruelly as I yelped from pain. After a few minutes, he shut the light and abruptly laid down, closing his eyes. He kept a hand covering my dick and balls. I tossed and turned a little, but couldn’t sleep. I bent down to smell his hand. It had a slight smell of him, and I got a little sleepy. That didn’t help that much though, and I felt a little cold without clothes. I scooched to him, and his eyes fluttered open. “What are you doing?” He asked.
“I-I couldn’t sleep, and I thought maybe-“ I whimpered a little. He smile a tiny smile. “Do you think it’s fair you use me to get some sleep, without me getting anything in return? I don’t think so.” He paused. “How about… here,” he put five clothespins in my hand. “Attach five of these to the head of your dick. If you succeed, you can come sleep between my legs.” I felt a little dizzy from being so tired, so I quickly took them. Boy, was that a mistake. Attaching the first one to the tender skin of my cock was a nightmare. I yelled from pain, and Christopher watched. I attached two near my slit, and three around the edge of my head. The pressure and friction was insanely painful, and I bit down hard. “Good boy. What a good boy, I’m actually a little surprised.” His thick, tanned hand came down quickly and slapped away all the clothespins. I screamed.
I rushed over to the warmth between his legs. I can’t believe that smell of sweat, dirt, and body odor was something I didn’t like. I inhaled deeply, feeling sleepy and just a little more safe. I snuggled in to the skin under his balls, where his underwear rode high. Finally able to sleep, I untensed my body.