Mdlftr Posted March 30, 2020 Share Posted March 30, 2020 Some fantasy! Exhausting! The writing is amazing! This passive agressive, totally a-hole-ish abuse of managerial power: ============================================== “I’m not giving you the time off.” “You already approved it,” he repeated. “You can’t do that.” “I can totally do that. This is me doing that right now. I’m your boss. Your boss who is doing that.” “This is a hollow power play,” Garrett steamed. “Like deserves like,” I replied. Fucking with Garrett was a heady trip. I felt a power deep in my balls. I couldn’t help but spread my shoulders and bring my arms down to flex them. I’d missed sparring with him. “Between the kids and work, my wife can’t pick her parents up from the airport. It’s not like I’m dying to spend time with them, but I promised. What can I do to get that afternoon off?” “Produce one or both in-laws on Wednesday morning in person, and I’ll be glad to give you the afternoon off.” “I need the afternoon off to pick them up from the airport. They’re not getting in until the afternoon. You’ve got to be joking.” “Not at all.” “That’s impossible.” “As an employee, you should do whatever it takes to make your manager happy.” I ran my hand up and down my abs. “That’s your angle,” Garrett said. “Angle? What angle? I’m just doing my due diligence before approving employee time off.” Garrett sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll figure it out.” “I’ll believe it when I see it.” “Is there anything else?” “Nope. Smooches.” With that, I ended the call. “Bravo,” Mo said. ================================================== Hello HR!! I want to report a (VERY) HOSTILE work environment!! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dredlifter Posted March 31, 2020 Share Posted March 31, 2020 10 hours ago, TQuintA said: “I would’ve said anything to get Alexander to spill. Hell, I told him I’m terrified of flightless birds.” I tilted my head inquisitively. That was Mo’s most embarrassing fear. “They’re dinosaurs, Eenie. I’m allowed to be scared of dinosaurs,” Mo said. This was the funniest thing I've read in a story on this site in a LONG time. You're work is exquisite. Funny, engaging, sappy, romantic...SEXY. Full of twists and turns. And so creative. Amazing stuff. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted April 1, 2020 Share Posted April 1, 2020 Oh man. Did he picked upon another people fantasies too like the waiter or that man on the elevator casue so far when he sees a fantasy he only does it with the person he si touching and this time there were too may people involved to think it was just Vernom's... I have a feeling here give how randomly Garret's family has pop up on the story that it's Garret's wife who put the cursed on him. She wants Garret to cheat on what eh most desires and what if it is our guy?? 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted April 3, 2020 Author Share Posted April 3, 2020 Chapter 20 I was breathing heavily, on the verge of ejaculation. Vernon’s fantasy had me on the edge of orgasm for an hour without release, and my cock didn’t know the difference between fantasy and reality. Jumping up from the table, my hands doing their best to obscure my obvious bulge, I beat a hasty retreat from the table. I still wasn’t used to the new dimensions of my bigger, buffer body, so I bumped into a few tables and one server (who smiled at the contact) as I careened to the bathroom. The whole time, my cock ached for release, both from my pants and from the pent-up orgasm. When I got there, I didn’t care that there was a small number of people using the facility for its intended purpose. I practically crashed into the accessible stall, locking it behind me. I landed on the toilet, and set to fishing out my cock. It was so hard, thick, and long that it got stuck coming out, so I had to stand and lower both my pants and boxer briefs down past my knees. My cock practically shot out of my underwear, pointing forward so strongly that it was practically pointing up. The erection was so strong that it felt like it was leading my body forward, stretching towards the horizon. The weight and pull of my cock stretched my groin muscles. I was so hard and stiff I felt like a steel bat was growing out of me, but it was satiny and hot to the touch. I sat back down on the toilet and took in the sight of my cock. In the thrall of Vernon’s fantasy, I’d half-convinced myself that my cock burgeoning further and myself growing a little taller had been part of the vision. But it wasn’t. I had grown beforehand, and in front of me was the living proof. My cock was beyond pornographic. The largest cock I had ever seen in person, not in a video that could use trick photography and photo-manipulation, was on a stripper that Oz hired for our joint bachelor party. I remember thinking that the stripper’s cock was thick enough to choke a poor man and long enough to give him intestinal distress. The stripper had bragged about being nine uncut inches. The cock I supported was now bigger than that, obviously and proudly. That stripper had a cock that I thought was massive beyond imagining, and here I out-cocked it. I didn’t have a ruler handy, but judging by the fact that I could fit both hands on it, it was likely 10 inches. Double digits. I hated the cliché, but it really did feel as thick as a beer can. Then I noticed my balls. Proud and swollen, each one was easily the size of a plum. I swore I could feel them churning, releasing a cacophony of hormones into my body, telling me to cum, cum, cum. I could tell my imminent explosion was going to be voluminous and perhaps messy, so I shucked my shirt and tossed it to the side to keep it clean. Scooting back on the seat until my ass was pressed against the wall, I slowly stood up until I had just enough space to aim my cock into the bowl of the toilet. I briefly thought back to the garbage can maneuver I’d pulled on Monday, only two days ago. That time, I felt like a fighter pilot steering a plane. This time, I felt like I was pointing a nuclear weapon about to demolish an urban metropolis. From this vantage point, I could see my meaty pecs and my mighty shaft. With that view and Vernon’s vision fresh in my mind, it only took the slightest stimulation to finally climax. My whole body vibrated with the force of it, and my skin darkened to a ruddy hue. The first two geysers of cum thundered out of me, already a copious amount. Those two eruptions probably held more semen than I had ever ejaculated in a day before the spell. And then, they were followed my three more voluminous streams. Then two more normal shots. The last three were practically dribbles; I had to coax them out of my shaft and into the bowl. Without leaving my perch, I flushed the evidence down the toilet. I sat, panting, trying to regain my breath. At first, my cock was so rigid and erect that I feared it would never go back down. However, with a cock this big, it just takes a little longer for it to diminish. Sure enough, by the time I’d regained my breath, my cock began deflating, and my balls were now temporarily emptied. I was able to get my equipment back into my pants, but my briefs were overfull. Standing there in my briefs, my prominent bulge was up front and unmistakable. My pants still fully encapsulated my mighty appendage, but zipping the pants up, I could feel the parabolic shape I pressed into my pants, and the bulge my cock and balls created would be obvious from a distance. I put my turtleneck back on (relieved it still met the top of my pants), and left the stall. An older man was standing at the sink. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Fine.” “You were screaming something fierce,” he informed me. I had been so deep into my orgasm that I hadn’t even given a thought to the sounds I was making. “Good screams,” I told him. I washed my hands, and exited the bathroom. The older man stared at me silently as I left. When I got back to the table, Vernon was still waiting, and there was an envelope on the table between our two seats. I sat down, and Vernon spoke. “Clearly, I have crossed some Rubicon. I have never in my life had a gentleman run away from me with such celerity. I apologize for my transgression.” “What’s with your accent?” I asked. “Is it some sort of rich person affectation?” “What in the heavens do you mean?” “You were born in Massachusetts. In the 1980s. But you talk like you’re from a Margaret Mitchell novel.” “Miss Mitchell only ever published the one.” “Not my point.” “I have found that conversing with a certain delicateness and magniloquence allows me to quickly determine who is worthy of my precious attention.” I could tell from his tone of voice that his feelings were hurt. I’d hurt his feelings? His ego, sure. But his feelings? I tried to piece together what this looked like from Vernon’s point of view. He’d put his cards on the table and offered me his hand. I took the hand, and then five seconds later, I ran away. I may have just lost the Bailey investment money. “If I offended you…” I said to Vernon. He interrupted my halfhearted attempt at an apology with a wholehearted laugh. “I offend you? Good sir, I am the one who o’ertipped our perilous balance.” His voice rang hollow with false bravado. “Let’s say I had agreed to sleep with you. What’s your goal here?” “Well, my wife has her own cicisbeo.” I had never heard that word in my life, but I gathered from context that his wife had a boyfriend. “He’s an amiable fellow. We get along splendidly, but I must confess an abiding pang of jealousy when I see the deep passion they share.” “You wanted me to be your sidepiece?” “Nothing so callous. I wanted a genuine lover—a coequal.” Vernon was sounding more like himself. Whatever hurt I caused him was short-lived. “But you’d stay married to your wife.” “Just until Grandfather Kelly passed. The rest of my family gives not a whit which way my affections tend.” “And once your grandfather died, you’d what? Marry me?” “Naturally.” “You don’t see my husband as an obstacle to this in any way?” “I must confess I find your loyalty to that brute troublesome. You and I are of closer age, and I am vain enough to acknowledge that I am his physical superior.” “Are you saying you think you’re hotter than Oz? ‘Cause you’d be wrong there. And while I admit the age gap gets to me sometimes, it’s mostly because,” I raised my voice a few decibels, “everyone keeps reminding me that there’s an age gap.” I returned to my normal volume. “When it’s just the two of us home on a Saturday afternoon, all I feel is love.” “If you ever change your mind,” Vernon said, getting to his feet, “you know how to find me. Until that inevitability, I pray we can keep our harmless flirting as long as I keep a studied distance.” I wasn’t happy with that arrangement at all, but at least I hadn’t lost his investment. “If that’s all you can offer, I’ll take it.” Before he left, Vernon added, “I took the liberty of including my budget code among the paperwork. That way, you could complete the unfinished portions of these documents without my presence. It seemed the most expeditious way of smoothing this meeting. No need to drag it out further.” “How considerate.” “Until our next skirmish, Ian dearest.” He bowed slightly and left the restaurant. I waved the waiter over. “Did Mr. Bailey pay the check or charge it to his room?” The waiter shook his head. I took out my employee credit card. “I’ll need a receipt.” I was pretty sure Mr. Carr would approve the expense of two drinks no questions asked, so that was a weight off my shoulder. I was miffed that Vernon hadn’t paid the bill, though. He made this big deal about apologizing and giving me his budget code… Budget code. He gave me his confidential budget code. 19 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted April 3, 2020 Author Share Posted April 3, 2020 Chapter 21 Getting back to the office was surprisingly challenging. With the recent boost to my cock and balls, my sex drive had ramped up even further. And it had already been at an 11. Everyone looked so eminently fuckable. The valet had a cute smile and his vest was tight around his chest. When I had to move my seat back just a little more to adjust for my added height, he winked at me. I wanted to shove my cock down his throat. At a red light, I pulled up alongside a cop. He was practically bursting out of his uniform. I still easily outweighed him by a good 20 or 30 pounds, but I wanted to wrestle him to find out who was stronger. And then ram my cock up his muscular ass. When I got to the financial district, there were two men in business suits fresh out of college. They looked absolutely delicious, as though they had stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. I thought there were just coworkers until they surreptitiously kissed before parting ways. I wanted to grab them both, bring them back to my apartment, and tag-team them back until they didn’t know which way was up. I pulled into C&G practically panting. I made it to the elevators without incident. I was almost to the safety of my office. The elevator doors opened on the eighth floor and revealed him: Jayce Wilco. Cursing internally, I tried to close the elevator again, jamming the button with my finger repeatedly. I did not trust myself to even say hello to a porn star. Let alone one who was likely hired for the sole purpose of fucking me. I thought I was in the clear, when a strong, sinewy arm burst through the doors. The doors opened, and he stepped into the elevator with his mail cart. He had deep blue eyes, like the Pacific Ocean. His hair was naturally a summery blond, and his bangs were just long enough to frame his face. His lips were full and pouted into a supple Cupid’s bow. His mouth was just a little too big, but that made it the perfect mouth for cock sucking. I could tell he shaved everything as the crest of his pecs peeked through the top of his unbuttoned polo shirt. He was a little shorter than me—most men were nowadays—but he was just a hair shorter than me. We were likely the same height before my recent growth. His shoulders were broad, his chest was proud and firm. His pants were scandalously tight. His ass perked out the back, and his legendary cock was clearly visible. “Going down?” he asked. I had seen this movie. I knew how it ended. “This is my floor,” I stammered. He stepped a little closer to me. Thankfully, the cart acted as a barrier, or I would know exactly what was about to happen. “Oh,” he breathed. “You just wanted to spend some time alone with me.” I tried to get out of the elevator, but he pushed the mail cart in my way. The doors closed, and the elevator began to descend. “I’m so glad I’m not the hottest guy in the office,” he said. “Why is that?” I managed to ask. I was still carrying the manila envelope Vernon had given me at the end of our lunch. I held it in front of my crotch to mask my growing erection. When I reached full mast, it would hide nothing, but it would at least delay the inevitable. “’Cause now there’s someone for me to think about when I jack off in the employee breakroom.” He moved the cart so there was nothing between the two of us. “Normally,” he stretched open the collar of his polo to show me more of his muscular chest, “I have to think about myself. I can get off just looking at this body.” His right hand traveled down to caress the outline of his cock. “And there’s a lot of me to get off. I tell guys I’m 9 inches, but that’s a lie.” He took a step closer. “I’m 9 and a half. Telling them about that last half of an inch would just be boasting.” He squeezed his cock through his pants. “But a guy like you—a guy like you I gotta boast to.” The elevator slowed to a stop, dinged, and the doors slid open on the first floor. Steering his cart, he sauntered off, swaying his ass as he stepped. Before the doors closed, he turned around and said, “The name’s Jayce Wilco. Call me when you want to get off.” Mercifully, the doors closed. I was hard as a rock. My cock threatened to destroy the zipper of my pants. At its new dimensions, it liked to stick straight out in front of me when it was fully erect. I rode the elevator back up alone and shuffled to my office, my erection making it impossible to walk normally. When I got to my office, Mo was there waiting for me. “Damn!” he said when he saw me. “You weren’t kidding. You have to be an inch taller. And that thing,” he added, pointing to my crotch, “is enormous. Does it even get soft?” “Not often,” I said. Mo put his finger in his ear and shook it. “There’s something about your voice.” His eyes darkened as he tried to make sense of what he’d heard. “It’s a little deeper, yes, but it’s more than that. A resonance. A timbre. You sound as good as you look. Can a voice be an aphrodisiac?” I thought about Vernon Bailey and how unfairly hot his voice was. “It most definitely can.” “What’s the reason for this particular hardon?” Mo asked. “Jayce Wilco cornered me in the elevator.” “Did you get to see his fantasy too?” “No. He didn’t touch me. He did everything but touch me.” I sighed audibly. “And good thing too. I’m pretty sure I would have fucked him right then and there in the elevator.” “No guy’s that hot.” “Oh, he’s definitely hot. But he’s more sexy. And he talks like a bad porn movie.” “Let me guess. He works in the mailroom. He said he had a big package for you.” “He asked if I was going down and wanted to get off.” “Also good choices,” Mo said. I moved in to punch my brother on the shoulder, when he held up his arm to stop me. “You might want to back up a step or two,” he said. “I don’t think you can tell this yourself, but your pheromones have stepped up yet another level. You smell…” Mo looked for the right word… “manlier than you used to. More alluring.” Heeding his advice, I backed up a few steps. “No wonder Jayce cornered me. He was in an elevator with my musk.” Mo put his briefcase on the desk. “Shall we get to business?” Then it clicked. “You stopped me from touching you. You’re worried you’ll…” “I’m only human, Eenie,” he admitted. “You smell intoxicating, you’ve got sex in your voice, you’re smoking hot, you’re even taller than me, you’re more jacked than me, and you’ve got that giant cock stretching out your pantleg.” He looked down, a little ashamed. “I don’t really want to know what will happen if I touch you.” “Fair enough,” I said. I took my seat and put the envelope on my desk. “Vernon’s budget code is in there.” Mo sat in the guest chair and opened the envelope. He rifled through a few pages before he found a Post-It Note with the code. He made a face that I couldn’t interpret. “What is it?” “This isn’t the same code used to hire Izzy and Jayce.” That explained the face; he was frustrated. “Is there any possibility Vernon has two budget codes? Or lied about his budget code?” I picked up my phone and called Vernon. His secretary picked up immediately. “Hey, it’s Ian Myers at C&G. I need to speak to Mr. Bailey to verify his budget code.” “No need to do that,” she peeped. “I can look that up for you.” I heard the sound of a clicking keyboard, and then she repeated the number exactly as it appeared on the Post-It. “And is this his only code?” “Yes,” she confirmed. “And if this code doesn’t work?” “It’ll work,” she said. The poor woman always sounded like she was about to cry. “Thank you. Have a nice day.” I hung up the phone and looked at Mo. “Either that’s his only budget code, or his secretary is in on it.” “Dammit,” Mo said. “So, we have to go back to my first plan.” “Which was?” “Finding someone who can hack into the company’s accounting database.” “Hmm,” I said. “Oddly, I have a meeting on Friday with an IT guy who hates this company. And, he’s good enough with computers to do it if we make it worth his while.” “Quincy,” Mo realized. “Of course. How much do you think he’ll want?” “How desperate he is for money? He’d do it for a sandwich.” “So, we’ll what, give him $100?” “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “Come to think of it, he’d probably do it just to touch my naked, hairy chest.” “Then you’d have to see his fantasy again.” “Which is why we’re giving him $100. The little guy gets off on how much bigger than him I am. And, right now, that’s enough to get me off too.” I turned to my computer and wrote him a quick email. Mo hovered a safe distance behind me to read it. When he approved, we sent it. Immediately, he sent a response saying he’d get right on it. “He’s keen,” Mo remarked. “I think he’s happy just to be included.” “Talking about happy,” Mo pointed to my cock, “you’re still at full mast.” He went back around the desk to his briefcase and pulled out a fabric ruler. “I have to know. I don’t want to know. I have to know.” “You want me to whip out my cock and measure it right in front of you?” “This isn’t a matter of want to. If I don’t know the actual number, I’ll just inflate it in my head. It’s safer to know. I’ll wait outside if you want me to.” “There’s a spy camera in this room,” I reminded him. “And you’re getting that footage on Friday, so no one else will see it.” I gestured for him to leave the office. He put the ruler on my desk and scurried out. I followed him to close the door and draw the blind, and I marked on the doorjamb with my thumbnail how far away from the top I was. Then, I pulled out my cock. It fought me against my boxer briefs, and I had to unbutton my pants to fit it through the zipper opening, but I got it. Measuring was easy, almost as if my cock wanted me to know its precise quantifications. The task done, I put it away and called Mo back in. “Well?” he asked, expectantly. “Height, 6’6”. Not much of a change there.” “I don’t really care how tall you are.” “Length, just a hair under 10. I could round up to 10, and no one would question me.” “Damn,” was all Mo could say. “Dare I learn girth?” “8 and a quarter. And this time I’m rounding down.” “You sure Oz can take that thing?” he asked. “Well, not to go into the details of my marriage bed in too much detail, but Oz has a collection of dildos, and I’ve seen him take bigger.” “I found the box of dildos the first day I was in your apartment,” Mo said, rolling his eyes. “I misspoke. You sure Oz’s heart can take that thing?” “I thought you were going to cut it with the age jokes.” “Old habits,” he said, apologizing. Suddenly, my stomach rumbled. “Didn’t you just have lunch?” Mo asked. “Vernon touched my hand before our drinks even arrived. The meal ended before it started.” “You could have had lunch afterwards.” “His fantasy, while I was in it, felt like it took over an hour. I lost track of time.” “Vernon’s got some stamina.” I looked at my clock. It was just about 2 PM. “I know you already had lunch with Alexander, but do you want to join me in the executive lunchroom? I can grab a bite to eat. The executive lunchroom sells a mean Caesar salad. Plus, I expect Mr. Carr will be having lunch.” “Why does that matter?” I pulled a receipt out of my pocket. “I need to get him to sign off on this, and I figured you could ask him about who hired Izzy and Jayce.” “Salad and subterfuge. Sounds like a hoot.” 20 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted April 3, 2020 Author Share Posted April 3, 2020 Chapter 22 I sat down at the lunch table with my Caesar salad. Luckily, the woman behind the register was not even slightly my type. My libido was at the point where I was sure that a manly woman could make me look twice. The prime time for lunch had already passed, so Mo and I were the only people there. “You really think Mr. Carr is going to come while the place is this empty?” I swallowed a mouthful of salad and explained. “It stays open until 3 when they clean it. According to Alexander, Mr. Carr waits until the lunch rush is over before he comes downstairs to eat.” As if I had summoned him, Mr. Carr came into the room. I’d forgotten just how wide the man was. Again, he wasn’t wearing a suit jacket. Mr. Tyler always wore a suit jacket, so this struck me as weird. Mr. Carr’s red hair was slicked back, like he just did it in the bathroom before coming here. As he walked across the room, I got a good look at him, better than I had before. He had a stalwart gait, and his ass was massive and dense, almost like a power-lifter’s. The man was imposing, but as I looked down at myself, I realized I was even more imposing. Between his impressive breadth and my own muscular body, I was starting to get revved up, so I just looked down at my salad. Mr. Carr sat down at a table on the other side of the room. One of the staff came over to him—no going to the counter for the big boss. Mr. Carr ordered his meal and pulled out his cell phone to scroll through it. His body language was clear: do not disturb. My brother, of course, didn’t care about such trivialities, so he waved his hand and brightly chirped, “Afternoon, Mr. Carr.” “Mr. Todd. Mr. Myers,” he returned without looking up from his phone. Afraid of looking at him too closely, my mouth too full to answer, I simply waved. “All of this Mr. Todd, Mr. Myers, Mr. Carr nonsense,” Mo began. “Isn’t it overly formal? I mean, he and I are brothers. I’m only working here for two weeks or so. He’s one of your managers, not some peasant serf. Shouldn’t we be on a first name basis?” Mr. Carr ruffled his shoulders but still didn’t look up. “You want me to call you Cayden? Fine.” He said the word as though it were two syllables. “I’ll call you Cayden.” I swallowed hard. “I’m happy with Mr. Myers, sir.” Practically under his breath, Mr. Carr added, “Hugo had you pegged.” “Meaning what?” Mo asked. Realizing he’d been roped into the conversation, he looked up from his phone. “A people pleaser, just shy of a brown noser.” I got up and slapped the receipt down in front of Mr. Carr. “I didn’t come here to glad-hand you. I came here to get you to sign off on drinks I had with a client.” “Isn’t that part of your job?” Mr. Carr asked. “At the Bristol,” I clarified. Mr. Carr put his phone down, took a pen out of his shirt pocket, and signed the receipt. Then, he made direct eye contact with me, saying, “It’s real shitty that Hugo makes you handle Kelly Bailey’s grandson. We all know the little peckerwood has the hots for you, and you’re too much of a people pleaser to stop him.” I returned the receipt to my pocket. “At first, Mr. Tyler had me deal with Vernon because we’re both gay. Is that better or worse?” Mr. Carr’s brow furrowed. I continued. “Back when I was still just a client liaison, before I become a manager, Mr. Tyler told me I’d have ‘special insight’ into what would keep Vernon happy. Those were his exact words. You’re looking at the only gay manager in this entire branch. Mr. Tyler hates me, he’s obviously homophobic, and I still got the promotion by being the best goddamn candidate for the job. How’s that for people pleasing?” Mr. Carr shook his head, a smile threatening to break his stony facade. “You boys want to join me?” Mo was at the table before Mr. Carr had finished the question. “Does this mean we can call you Calvin?” “No, it does not.” I picked up my salad and brought it over to the table. Mo kept trying. “Cal, then. I’m more than happy to call you Cal.” “No one calls me Cal.” “So, I’m stuck calling you Mr. Carr? I could give you a nickname.” The smile finally cracked across his face. “You’re an ingratiating bugger,” Mr. Carr said, the word “ingratiating” almost slurred into one sound. “Does this run in the family or something?” “Many things run in our family,” Mo said. “We’re both charming, attractive, gay…” “And overly talkative,” I added, interrupting him. “I was only telling him I’m gay to lead into my question about the two hot guys who work in the mailroom.” “The HR department would frown on you chasing after mailroom boys,” Mr. Carr said. “Yes, but I’m only working here for another week and a half. Then, they’re fair game.” “I suppose so. But I don’t know what you could learn from me that you couldn’t from those files I gave you access to.” Mr. Carr leaned back in his chair as his lunch arrived. Before the server left the table, he said to Mo, “If you’re asking my advice, just sack up and ask them out. For all I care, you three boys could form a gay sex ring, as long as it’s off company property.” Then he turned to the server and told her, “Thank you.” The server went back to the kitchen, and I just sat there stunned. This conversation was surreal. “You’re oddly comfortable talking about gay men.” “I may have been born in the ‘60s,” he said, “but I went to college in New York City. In the ‘80s. You think you’re the first two gay guys I’ve met?” “Touché,” I said. “I had a buddy once dragged me to a gay club and tried to kiss me on the dance floor. I was flattered, but I nixed that right away. We’re still friends to this very day. Gay’s just another way of being.” “Then, back to the mailroom mystery men. I don’t want to ask them out,” Mo clarified. “I want to know who hired them.” “What sort of a question is that?” “One’s a bodybuilder going pro, the other is an adult film star. They’re not exactly corporate material.” “Suppose not,” Mr. Carr said. “And they don’t really fit in with the pattern of hiring desperate people straight out of college. That’s Mr. Tyler’s go-to move. Hire them when they’re broke, and they won’t ask for benefits. Hell, he can hire them as part-time temps, and they’ll worship at his feet.” “Is he really doing that? How bad does that look? And is that actually criminal?” “Is he really doing it? Yes. Are the optics bad? Entirely. Is it legally actionable? Not even a little. Is it immoral? Gray area. I’ve almost worked up a solution,” Mo pivoted, “but aside from these two being gorgeous, they don’t make sense.” “You make it sound sinister,” Mr. Carr said. “Then explain the budget codes,” Mo responded. Mr. Carr slowly chewed a mouthful of food, took a sip of his drink, and then said, “As CEO of this company, no one consults me about mailroom temps. You’ll have to be more specific.” Mo returned to our former table, grabbed his briefcase, and brought it back. He pulled out three files. He showed Mr. Carr the first one. While he explained it, he pointed to each relevant piece of information with his finger. “This is a normal hire.” He tapped on the included employee ID photo. “He graduated college in May. According to his cover letter, he has been struggling to find work for almost a year and has tens of thousands of dollars in student loan debt. It’s why he accepted such a low wage.” As he said this, his finger danced across the page, tapping each pertinent detail. “This,” Mo tapped the relevant number with extra force, “is the budget code for payroll.” Mr. Carr nodded. Mo pulled out Izzy and Jayce’s files. As he spoke, he gestured to Izzy’s file with his left hand and Jayce’s with his right. “I’ve already told you their work histories, which is odd, but it gets odder. These two hold no relevant college degrees.” He pointed at each file with its respective hand. “Mr. Bernal dropped out of college in his sophomore year, and there’s no record of Mr. Wilco finishing high school.” Unimpressed, Mr. Carr said, “You don’t need much to work in the mailroom. My oldest granddaughter could do it, and she’s in the third grade.” “You wouldn’t pay her this much,” Mo said, tapping each of Izzy’s and Jayce’s wages. He then brought the three files close together until the pages were overlapping and lined up the budget codes. “Payroll,” he said, tapping on the first file. “Not payroll,” he concluded, pointing at the budget codes from the other two files. That surprised Mr. Carr. “I’ve never seen this code before,” he asked. “It’s a discretionary fund that, according to Mr. Tyler, comes from outside the company. Someone who invests frequently enough to have their own budget code.” “You spoke to Hugo about all of this?” “It’s why you hired me,” Mo answered. “You knew about all of this?” Mr. Carr asked me. “I helped,” I admitted. “Do you know whose budget code it is?” “We’ve ruled out Vernon Bailey,” I said. “Someone outside the company hired two temps in our mailroom?” “It’s not so straightforward,” Mo said. “They’re being paid by someone from outside the company,” I interjected. “We don’t know who hired them,” Mo finished. “You think they’re corporate spies?” Mr. Carr asked. “If someone wanted to plant spies in the mailroom, you think they’d do a better job of hiding it,” I proffered. “They didn’t think I’d be looking,” Mo said. “They didn’t think anyone would be looking." “These might be entirely falsified files,” Mr. Carr suggested. “Wilco’s is real,” I said. “Right. He’s a gay porn star. Makes sense you’d know that.” Mo nodded emphatically, adding, “And Mr. Bernal’s background is supported by a quick Google search.” “It’s very unlikely they’re spies,” Mo said. “You don’t hire a bodybuilder and a porn star to do corporate espionage.” “Then why pay them? And why so much?” Mr. Carr was turning slightly pink. “We were hoping you’d have some insight on that,” I explained. “Me? Why me?” “It’s your company,” Mo said flatly. “Why would someone pay these two men to work in your mailroom?” Mr. Carr shook his head. “I have no idea. But I expect you to find out.” He put his phone in his pocket and picked up what was left of his lunch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make.” He patted me on the shoulder, and abruptly left the lunchroom. “You scared him,” I said to Mo. “He’ll be fine. Besides, I got what I wanted.” “Which was what?” “Among other things, confirmation that whoever paid to have these two beauties work here is gunning for you and not the company.” “We already knew that.” “That explanation always made the most sense, yes. But Calvin’s utter confusion clinched it.” “Don’t call him that.” “Did Calvin give you a vision when he touched you?” “Nope. He doesn’t want to fuck me.” “Good,” Mo said. “Then you’ll be soft enough to walk back to your office without drawing even more attention to your crotch.” 19 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted April 3, 2020 Author Popular Post Share Posted April 3, 2020 Chapter 23 At the end of the work day, Mo took a Lyft home, afraid to be in an enclosed car with me, especially one where he was bound to bump into me. Being alone in the car gave my shoulders a little more space, but I was really wishing I had a bigger car every time I got in it. When I got home, there was a note from Mo waiting for me on the apartment door. “Eenie—Out with Alexander. Enjoy your evening of porn and self-love. P.S. No Jayce Wilco films, just to be safe.” Once inside, I locked the door behind me. I was naked within seconds. Yes, I’d masturbated at the restaurant, and yes, I’d measured the beast in my office, but I hadn’t yet had a really good look at it, nor had I taken it for a real test drive. The first thing I noticed when I looked down was that my chest hair. I had been practically hairless for so long that the carpet of swirling hair covering me was a luxurious novelty. I could even see a little bit of hair poking out from my armpits, even with my arms down at my sides. Well, as down at my sides as my lats would let them go. I peeked over my pecs, and saw the same dark swirls coating my devastating six-pack. Even my leg hair and arm hair were thicker. I reached up to my face, and sure enough, my stubble was thicker than I’d ever felt it. Needing to see if the pattern continued, I looked down at my pubic hair. It was official. I had a massive bush. However, it did nothing to hide the piece of flesh between my legs. It looked heavy. I could feel it hanging off my body, but it even looked like it weighed a ton. I grabbed my phone and decided to really enjoy myself in my bedroom. As I walked to the bedroom, I could feel it bob and bounce with the weight. I hadn’t spent much time completely naked since I’d grown, and there is a deeply erotic hypnotism to my own cock swaying back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. By the time I’d reached my bed, I was already at full mast, leaking a copious stream of pre. The sheer majesty of that glistening leviathan jutting from my body was intoxicating. My entire being centered into that one meaty appendage, and I never felt more masculine or virile than I did in that moment. I threw aside the blankets and got into bed. I looked through the web for something scintillating and began to stroke my length. Honestly, I just wanted Oz, in our bed, whispering naughty sentiments. But my husband was completely opposed to sexting. In my scrolling, I stumbled across the infamous dick pic. Somewhere around New Years, I’d sent Oz a dick pic. He’d been gone for a month and a half by then, and we were missing each other terribly because of the holidays. I’d almost flown to Germany to be with him, but he assured me he would be at a work-mandated meeting until 10PM, and that, even though New Years was a public holiday in Germany, as it was a Wednesday, we’d barely get to see each other at all. He didn’t reciprocate the pic. He barely acknowledged it. He wouldn’t break his rule. Not even for his husband. Not even on New Year’s. I mentally brushed away the memory. It was too depressing, completely killing the mood. But I did look intensely at the photo. It was just my legs and dick—no torso or face (that wasn’t the point of the picture). But I realized that the legs and cock I now had were a far cry from the ones in the photo. I resumed stroking, this time faster. I’d been masturbating since I was 13, and I was quite familiar with my own penis. This cock, though, was like an entirely new person. It took me twice as long to reach the end, my hand couldn’t completely encircle it, and it was impossibly heavy. It almost gave my enlarged biceps a workout. The angle was the most surprising thing. I was used to resting my arm on my stomach while I pistoned my hand up and down my shaft. But with my chest bulging out, my arm fighting it for space, and my cock rocketing up so much further away, I had to move my whole arm up and down just to hit the same hotspots. My balls added to the challenge. I had to hold my legs farther apart, and I could feel my balls’ weight as they drew closer to my body, almost like someone was tugging on my cock from the underneath as I tugged it from the top. The entire event felt like I was jacking off a stranger’s cock with a stranger’s body. My eyes flitted to the picture of the cock in the New Year’s photo. It was a nice, larger-than-average cock in that photo. This monster between my legs made it look laughably small. With that thought rolling around my brain, I felt my balls draw all the way up to my body, my ass clench reflexively, my back arch, my feet constrict, my chest flush, my hips thrust forward, and my eyes roll back into my head. I exploded intensely. It went everywhere. Volleys hit my chest, my face my feet, the bed, the floor. Everywhere. I knew this wasn’t going to be my only go tonight. Far from it. I had to figure out a way to contain my volume. “I finally have a use for Oz’s bathtub,” I said as I set about cleaning up and changing the sheets. Almost as soon as that task was done, I got a phone call. Oz. “Hey, Oz,” I said, answering the phone. “It’s got to be almost 1 AM there.” “Yes. I couldn’t sleep. I miss you too much. I had to call you. Hear your voice.” “That is so sweet.” “Did I interrupt you and Cayden?” “Nah. He’s out with Alexander.” “Oh, is he now?” “Yeah. They kind of hit it off.” “And by hit it off, you mean…” “Yes, they’re fucking.” Oz snickered. “Your brother and your best friend left you all alone. That just won’t do.” There was an impish undertone to Oz’s voice. “You want to chat until you fall asleep?” I asked. “I want to do… something…” There was a sinister melody in Oz’s voice. Almost as if… Did he? Was he about to break his own rules? “I know why you couldn’t sleep,” I said, matching his tone. “Where are you in the apartment?” I grabbed our favorite dildo Oz’s chest of wonders, took the phone into the bathroom, and got into the tub. “I’m in your bathtub,” I said. “Oh?” “You’re not the only one who can miss his husband.” “Imagine I’m in the tub with you.” “Are you in front or am I?” “You’re in front. Your back is pressed against my furry chest and belly. I rest my bearded chin on your shoulder, and stretch my arm around you to grab hold of your cock.” “That sounds wonderful.” I put Oz on speaker and set the phone on the floor outside the tub so I’d have both hands free. “I reach behind me and I grab hold of your cock too.” With my left hand, I positioned the dildo behind my back. It was bigger than Oz’s 5.5 inch dick, but just as thick. Oz’s cock was as thick as everything else on him. “I gently steer your cock until it is completely inside of me.” I slowly pushed the dildo inside of me. Oz grunted. “I love the feeling of your tight ass around my cock.” “I love the feeling of your thick cock inside my ass.” “I slowly stroke you up and down, matching the rhythm with my own thrusts.” I began to stroke myself with my right hand while my left hand fucked me with the dildo. “I turn my face to yours so we can kiss.” “I kiss you deep and hard, knocking the wind out of you, never stopping the rhythm of my fucking or my stroking.” “I love the feel of your beard. I squeeze my ass cheeks to stir you on.” I did to the dildo what I wanted to do to my husband. “I feel it,” Oz said. “Do you? You feel me squeezing your cock with my ass?” “I return the favor, squeezing your cock.” Oz’s breathing was getting erratic. “I’m close Ian, are you close?” Between the fucking my ass was getting from my left hand and my cock was getting from my right hand, I was right there with him. “So close, Oz. So, so close.” When Oz came, he dropped his phone, but I could hear him moaning and grunting. I let loose with a mighty roar, pointing my cock down into the tub so I wouldn’t have as big of a second mess to clean up. Even though I’d come not even an hour ago, I produced cum practically by the bucketful. The whole time I climaxed, I was letting loose a torrent of yells. We both subsided, and both picked up our phones. “Was it good for you, Mr. Myers?” I asked. “Just what I needed. Was it good for you, Mr. Myers?” “I miss you so fucking much, Oz.” “Are you really in the bathroom?” he asked. “Yeah. Why?” “Maybe that’s why your voice sounded funny.” “My voice sounded funny?” “Don’t worry. Funny good. But funny. I didn’t want to say anything before.” “I also had you on speaker phone.” “That must be it,” Oz said. “And were you putting on a show for me, or did you really cum that hard?” “I really came that hard.” I could hear Oz’s smirk. I know smirks aren’t audible, but I could hear him smirk over the phone. “You know, Ian, you can masturbate without me. You don’t have to save it all up for me. Phone sex was a one-time thing.” “Believe me, I know.” After a brief pause, I said, “You ready for round two? I’ve still got the dildo in my ass.” “Tempting,” Oz said. “But now that I’ve come, I can barely keep my eyes open. I love you.” “Love you too, Oz.” 29 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Vinx84 Posted April 3, 2020 Share Posted April 3, 2020 Really thanks for this masterpiece Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ozymandias Posted April 3, 2020 Share Posted April 3, 2020 Perhaps the spell has affected Oz as well? He’s been slowly pushing his rule and now he’s broken it... 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rorange Posted April 4, 2020 Share Posted April 4, 2020 On 4/4/2020 at 1:59 AM, Ozymandias said: Perhaps the spell has affected Oz as well? He’s been slowly pushing his rule and now he’s broken it... Good point! someone want them divorce maybe Oz got the spell too! and grew! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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