Inspired Photos

 

The stories in this series depict sexual acts among consenting adult men. (You're reading this from Nifty Archives, whatta ya think?) If any of these offend you or are illegal to view in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further. Consider buying saline solution and washing your eyes?

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced without explicit consent. All rights reserved.

Songs referenced herein are copyrighted by their respective owners and performers. I make no claim toward them...

The characters and incidents portrayed in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. While public business establishments may be mentioned, names of other companies are a creation of the author: resemblances to actual companies are purely unintended.

Surfing the internet, one sees many stirring images that sometimes stirs the imagination. When lucky enough, the net surfer sometimes hears an account or fantasy first-hand from the original guy who posted the photo. In the course of the conversation, the surfer's and the poster's fantasies can meld into a shared fantasy.

I consider myself privileged to take part in this.

 

- John

 

Chapter 03 : Stuart

Auditing Irregularities

John Bato (john.bato@gmail.com)

2013

 

Uh oh. Why is the chief accountant sitting in my office? I casually (or tried to imitate casually) sipped my latte and grit my teeth under my smile.

"Lou, we're reassigning you for the next three days."

"Okay. What's the project?"

"Well you know the managing partner is going through a messy divorce. Wife's attorney hired a CPA to look at our books. The Adidas people are with us now using the main conference room, so you're meeting the auditor in the Conference B. I already set him up there with our latest annual report."

"Okay. What do I need to do?"

"He'll just review the balance sheet amounts and do some forecasts. Look, Louis. Sorry. I know you'd rather not volunteer for this. Can I ask you to take one for the team?"

"It's okay. I really don't mind. You want me to check with you later with what he wants?"

"Sure, please. Think I might know what he wants. I'll have Suzy copy them. Also, I think I can say at this time that you've been a great team player and your review is coming up. You won't stay a junior accountant for long."

"Really? Thanks, Kev."

I walked toward the conference room and regret surrendering my usual hiding place. I liked the room because it was still in the older part of the building and was spared from last year's major renovations that included glass doors. This room was cool since it still had the blond wood door with a tiny slit of glass for a window. It was the orphaned room that nobody wanted but me; I made it my hiding place. I had to share this room with a stranger now? I checked to see that I had a copy of our latest audit report issued by our own CPA firm.

Hold the phone. I opened the door and froze. The Adonis before me must've been in his late 40's with a good dash of salt in his otherwise pepper coif. "Hi. Luis Bonifacio. You can call me Lou. I'll be answering your questions."

"Stuart Morgan. Senior Partner. James, Morgan, & Stern. But call me Stu." His silver-grey eyes twinkled as he handed me a business card: raised maroon and black ink on vellum paper. Nice graphic designer.

"So how do you want to start?"

"How about this." He opened a leather padfolio and pulled a black Cross pen with gold highlights. "Tell me about the company overall."

"We're a post-production company started in 1988. We do small-scale projects from artists' demo reels, in-house training videos, and even a few not-for-profit donor pledge campaign DVDs. Well, they do, actually. I just do the client billing and general books."

"How many staff?"

I became mesmerized at his meaty hand and his little precise doodles. "Uhhh. Staff? Three partners, each having a staff of four or five editors. Two administrative staff. Kevin, who you've met, me and Suzy are in accounting. Twenty-one staff in total, six part time."

"Twenty one employees?"

"No, Seven of them are independent contractors we hire for ad-hoc projects."

"Okay. I'd like copies of the tax reports. Two years."

"Run this by Kevin. Should be okay with it, but we'll redact our staff's Tax IDs."

"Not a problem. I reviewed your CPA's report. I'd also like to see your depreciation schedules."

"All our equipment?"

"Not necessarily. Just a few major tickets. Labor and equipment are your major cash outlays, so I'm narrowing it to just that for now. How many AVID machines do you have?"

"Four in total, different sizes, the oldest being seven years now? You know our industry."

"Not my first rodeo, buddy. In fact with my first accounting internship, our firm did Lucas Film."

I stood and said, "Nice. You're not that scary an auditor. I'll get copies. Probably commandeer one of the coffee makers. You take coffee?"

Stu stood to remove his jacket. His chest bulged as he did so. "Yeah, that'd be great."

I left the room, etching that lovely image in my mind as I walked into Kevin's office. "Kev? He'd like two years' worth of IRS payroll filings."

Kevin handed me three manila folders. "Two only? Had Suzy copy three."

"Two. And depreciation schedules." My eyes dart to the utility cart by the door, the one we use to shuttle medium sized sensitive equipment. On it was the coffee maker I had my mind on taking. "I'll take my laptop and print them from the conference room?"

"Yeah, do that. And take the cart with you too."

"You've read my mind already."

"You still doubt that I know your mind's pathways?" He winked and grinned wickedly.

"Yeah, right. Sure."

"Salt & Pepper in the conference room? Mr Brawn and Brains? A name partner, too! Lou, he's ten times what I could ever be."

"But you and I didn't break up because of that."

"I know. But I do want to see you happy."

"Right. Start seeing a dude and hope to work a bi-coastal relationship." I smiled sarcastically. Bless him. Can't fault him for trying.

I placed the tax reports on the tray and headed back again. Opening the door with my hip, I turned around and took another sharp breath. Not only did Stu take his jacket off but he unfastened his French cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. I was treated now to two muscled forearms lightly covered with what seems to be a soft pelt of salt and pepper fur. Damn, this was gonna be a difficult morning.

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Cream and sugar if you have. But don't mind dark either."

Cream with his coffee. My kind of stud. "While you wait, here's the tax reports. Redacted personal info. Want a tour of our edit rooms for the AVIDs?"

His right hand stroked his left arm. "Sure. Perhaps after lunch."

Where's my genie in a bottle? I desperately wanted to be his arm right now. Or his hand. Stroking or stroked, at this point I didn't care.

 

###

 

As usual when hosting a big client, Kevin ordered an assortment of sandwiches and two trays of pasta for the office. The Adidas people and two of our creative teams ate at their conference room. The rest the staff ate at our kitchen/conference room, following our usual staggered lunch schedules.

Kevin, of course, came into the room when Stu and I were about midway thru our food. "Everything going okay so far?"

"Yeah, Lou here's been very helpful."

And wouldn't you know it; Kevin cocked an eyebrow and grinned wickedly. "That's why I hired him."

I shot him a menacing look begging him to stop. Where was the damn ibuprofen? I felt a headache coming.

 

###

 

After lunch, I showed him two of the editing rooms. As we were now in the renovated suites and glass partitions, he also could see into the rooms across the hall. While he took visual inventory of our equipment, I casually surveyed my standing Adonis and his equipment. His tight button-down gray oxford gave way to a navy blue pinstripe cotton-wool slacks. A vertical crinkle ran down one of his voluptuous ass cheeks, slightly marring my otherwise perfect dream-date image of him. Must be a boxers guy. Ehh. So we all have flaws, at least this is minor. Wait. This isn't a date anyway.

Before turning my gaze back up to his face, I noticed his black Bruno Magli shoes. I looked up and caught him looking at me questioningly. Damn. Caught.

Save yourself, buddy! At a split-second, I came up with, "Nice shoes. Bruno?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "I think I've seen what I wanted. Can we head back to the room?"

"Sure." We walked back to the conference room, me leading the way. As I pulled on the door handle, he bumped into me.

"Sorry." He had his hand in front of him, checking his iPhone for messages. At least that was before his hand bumped into my ass. "Didn't realize you slowed down."

"It's okay. My fault really. Must've locked the door when we left for lunch." Wished the other side of your hand was the one that made contact with my ass, but hey with no action in a while beggars can't be choosers. "Gimme a minute."

"Sure. Was checking in with my office anway." Damn, did his eyes twinkle.

I fumbled for my keys and let him in. Needing an excuse to calm down, I excuse myself to step back into the kitchen to get more water for some coffee. Day's almost over, buddy boy. Two more hours probably translated to two coffees. Well, one should be enough, but I wanted to give my kidneys a workout and an excuse to take a break.

When I returned he was all business, furiously scribbling on his pad. "Oh you're back. Don't think I can handle coffee this time, but I'll take the water." After a pause, he continued, "What say we tackle income projections next?"

"Sure, I'll answer what I can. Kevin does more of the forward planning stuff dealing with the partners and clients. I am familiar with the signed contracts and receivables, though."

 

###

 

Around lunch the next day, Kevin stopped by my office again and we had lunch.

Kevin's roast beef came and he smiled at me. "Smithson's lawyer just called. We're in the clear. Wife is attacking his other assets but leaving this business alone. You did well with Stuart. I should have you handle our own auditors, too."

"Thanks, but no. I've done enough paperwork when I deal indirectly with them thru you. Face to face sucks."

"Come on. Even with that face? You gotta admit that you enjoyed that yesterday."

"Couldn't. Both my brains were fighting each other wanting to talk to him."

"Well big brain must've won. The lawyers are ecstatic that they have one less thing to think about. Wait. I know that smile. You're blushing. You pitched tent under the table, didn't you?"

Yeah, my little brain did a bit of talking too, but I couldn't admit that to my supervisor. "May or may not. What if I did?"

"Ha! Whatever works. Don't you wish you had a chance to see him again?"

"Don't need to wish. We're meeting later at the gym. Found out we belong to the same gym network. Stop smirking like that."

 

###

 

Waiting on Fifth Avenue outside the gym's entrance, my stomach was doing its own workout. Took a lot of deep breaths; also stopped checking my phone every two minutes as that had the opposite effect.

At last, my phone vibrated alerting me to an incoming msg. "Two blocks away. Sorry for the delay."

Damn first date jitters. Wait, is this a date? I took a few more deep breaths to calm the butterfly zoo in my stomach and try not to look like an overeager schoolboy and text back, "No prob. Waiting outside the building."

He turned around onto Fifth Avenue and I recognized him a block and a half away. His six-foot plus stature and salt & pepper hair stood about half a head above the people around him. As he crossed 25th Street, his eyes were unmistakably gleaming. The warm June sun and his apparent jog already manifested in his ash gray cotton tee, particularly in his pits as well as the triangle between his full pectorals. His jeans were practically painted onto his thighs and calves.

I extend my hand. He takes it and draws me into a one-arm bro hug. "Thanks for waiting. Better than coming in alone for the first time. Hate getting lost inside a new gym."

Pulled into him by shock, it takes me a while to respond. "Don't thank me yet. I usually use their facility more uptown. Only been here three or four times." I took a whiff of his sweat-musk and my jock strained to contain my growing member.

"Certainly more than none." God his smile could melt me into a puddle. Where's a bed when you need it?

After checking in at the front desk, we head to the elevator. Alone in that confined space, his essence was concentrated and doing a number on my libido. Damn, not even in the locker room yet and my jockstrap was begging to be thrown onto the floor.

We get to the locker room and choose two empty lockers, one on each side of the room's corner. We turned toward our respective lockers and began to undress. Sight unseen, I knew the moment he lifted his shirt to change into his wife beaters. Doing so exposed his armpits and my nose detected its favorite cologne. His essence of power brawn radiated out, adding to the previous gym users. To me that was better than any bottle of poppers available.

At this time, I had already stripped down to my jock and was sitting on the bench. This afforded me a glimpse of him as he undid and lowered his jeans. Framed in a black jock, I stood (well okay, sat) amazed at the living masterpiece in front of me. What an ass! Lightly speckled with his trademark s&p and curvaceous as hell. Compact, but who am I to complain with my non-existent Asian ass? His was still full and round and boy did my nose itch to go crack diving between those cliffs of flesh.

I turned my attention to pulling up my own shorts, standing to tighten the drawstring. I also made sure to give him a seductive show in case he was returning the favor. I reach into my gym bag and put on my own tee.

Turning to face him, I heard, "So you have a preference for swimmers' jocks?"

Mission accomplished? Hope he liked the show? "Uhh, yeah." He stood in front of his now closed blond-wood veneered locker. The black edges framed him as though a muscle mag pinup. His nipples were mouth-wateringly tenting his somewhat tight, ribbed wife-beater. Lead me not into temptation! "I don't like wide bands on me. If I bend the wrong way it curls up and can be a bitch to adjust in polite company."

He smiled as he grabbed the gym's towel. I followed him and we get into the group area. Seemed like a cardio/dance class was just about to start. A petite blonde in a ponytail invited us to join the class. We figured, `Sure, what the hell.'

Stu set up his mat to my left. I appreciated his Lakers shorts even more now that I knew what it concealed. Even while jogging, they didn't jiggle much. Sure hope to unwrap that package later.

The class turned out to be a silver lining of sorts. Jumping, bobbing, and weaving to the beat definitely had me imagining Mr. Stud and the jingle jangle of his balls. Did his jock contain it tightly or give way to those heavy orbs? Interestingly, my own jock was not responding to my rather vivid imagination. Mini Me must be motion sick. Temporary, I hoped as I had plans for us later.

Forty-five minutes later and panting heavily, I was ready to call it quits. It must've been obvious in my face. I had my eyes closed for a moment but they popped wide open the moment I felt a hard slap on my ass.

"You gotta keep up, buddy."

Feebly, I responded, "Yes, sir."

"That's what I like to hear! Come, let's do bench presses."

"Bench presses? Seriously?"

"Nothing major with weights. More just so I won't forget the motions and my technique."

He set the weights at 75 lbs. Was he being too easy on me? He did his three reps and it came to my turn. I lay down on my draped towel.

When I looked up from my reclined position, I was greeted by a vision of a black rounded pouch peeking thru the leg holes of yellow jersey shorts. Stu was definitely plumping already. I adjusted my focus and saw him wink at me. I held the weights above me for a minute and had my tongue trace the top of my lips. For that, I was awarded a blown kiss.

"Giving up yet? Told you buddy, gotta keep up."

As motivation, he tightened his pelvic muscles and made his pouch twitch. I looked away from his eyes and timed my weight lifting to his jock's rhythmic jumps. What a way to work out!

"Okay, you've done your two sets. I could use a steam. You?"

I sat up and wiped the sweat off my face. "Definitely."

"They allow jockstraps in the steam room?"

"It's just guys, so yeah. At least they do in my regular branch uptown."

We entered the steam room just as its last occupants were leaving. We both took a seat on the second tier. As I laid my towel down, I felt a soft paw cupping my ass.

"Love to sample this later," came his husky whisper.

I turned around and tried to emulate his tone. "Love to have it worked on if I get the same privileges as well." I focused on his eyes before saying, "Especially love having meat marinated in unshowered sweat and man musk."

His eyes shone brighter and laughed. "Definitely. Deal!"

I sat down as close to him as I deemed acceptable in a straight gym. Physical contact seemed not that high a priority just now; seems that we connected enough. Plus, there was promise of bedroom physics.

"So, what's the story with you and Kevin?"

"What? You saw that?"

"Naturally."

"We used to date. We each worked for a different company. Met at a bar. Saw each other for dinner and drinks. Shortly after tho, he reconnected with his college crush. He was seeing both of us for a while and eventually made a choice."

"No hard feelings?"

"No. I knew what I was getting into. We both let him make his choice and he made it. We eventually became friends again and he even hired me for my job now."

Again lowering his voice, Stu responded, "His loss. He could've had the privilege of worshipping your ass on a nightly basis."

"My ass? Non existent as it is?"

"Sure. It may not be what ad agencies are putting on magazine ads, but your ass is great. So are your legs, buddy." At this, he ran the tips of his fingers on my thigh and stares at me. He then put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in. Eyes obscured by his neck and my nose inhaling the musk of its crook, I barely registered the door to the steam room opening. Stu kept talking in a calming voice, "It's okay buddy. Understandable. She was a bitch. What say we go for drinks after?"

To which the intruder responded, "Sorry. I'll give you guys some privacy."

"Thanks, we'll be out shortly."

The door closed again and Stu had the biggest grin on his face. "What say you? Ready to continue this at my hotel?"

I grinned back. "Lemme think about that."

"Well, why don't you think about it while you stare at my ass walking out the door. See if it beckons you enough to follow it."

As he got halfway to the door, the pleasure of watching his jock-framed compact ass was overpowered by my tongue's desire to be buried between those two cliffs of flesh.

To save time, we just dressed back into our gym clothes and left the facility. We got back to the sidewalk and he draws me back into his trademark one-armed bro hug. "Underneath your business attire, you're just a lil' ol' scent pig aren't you?"

"Figured me out, eh?" Damn, was I blushing?

"I'm an auditor, dude. Of course."

"Ha. Yeah. I like man smells, in general. Not big on dirty asses tho."

"I like man smells too, especially when fresh. You don't have to worry about that with me."

We entered his hotel lobby and headed straight for the elevator. At the elevator, his arm drops from my shoulders and forcefully grabs my ass.

"You must be a top?"

"Yeah," he responded unapologetically. "You okay with that?"

"Not a problem, but if you want access on the first date, you're gonna have to bring your A game."

"Don't think that'd be a problem either. I'm game."

He opened the door to his room and pulled me in for a long, passionate kiss. For a first kiss that had the longest of buildups, hot damn! Definitely worth it.

I had to break the kiss. "Baby, strip to your jock." I kicked off my sneakers and tossed my tee away. My thumbs hooked the waistband of my shorts while I watched as he peeled his clothes. When he was down to his jock, I stepped off my shorts and shove him to the couch.

"Stay still. Gotta worship your hot bod."

My hands grope his shapely chest, tweaking his erect nipples. Frozen on the couch, he just smiled and widened his legs as I stepped closer. I read that as an invite and buried my nose between his upper thigh and under his jock desperately inhaling any air trapped inside it. Pure heaven. My tongue joined in and licked the base of his sack. Oh the heady mix of his sweat and musk! He spread his legs wider and I got to dive into his taint. Loud moans confirmed that he appreciated my lingual ministrations.

I stripped us of our jocks and took his shaft in my mouth. His copious sap tasted great, especially after mixing with his sweat. I felt his hand on my neck urging me lower; I gladly obliged, of course and soon my nose was buried at the base of his cock.

He lay on his back and urged me to feed him my own leaky faucet. Not releasing his dick from my mouth, I turned around and fed him my cock. We spent a few delicious minutes burying our noses in each others' sacks.

He suddenly grabbed the back of my thighs and moved causing me to loose my balance momentarily. Unaware of what was going on, I suddenly braced myself on the couch cushions. The next thing I knew, I was in a handstand position, his leaking cock still buried in my throat and mine in his.

Before his tongue buried itself in my hole, he said, "Sorry, babe. I'll warn you next time."

With his talented mouth in action, how could I stay mad? I continued milking his dick sap.

As I was about to feel the unnatural effects of prolonged gravity, never was good with handstands, he gently laid me on the couch and stared at me as I regained my breath. I smiled and stroked his jaw.

"I'm gonna pick you up now."

"Okay. All yours, babe." I interlock my fingers behind his neck as he slipped his arm under my thigh. He lifted me gently and took a few steps. I broke eye contact and stared at his full pectorals.

He suddenly stopped and flexed his pecs. His nipples jumped like a doctor's EKG machine. "Whatta ya think? Does my dick stand a chance of burying itself in your ass?"

With a vertical 69, that was definitely A-game enough. I look back at him. "Anything, baby."

He shifted his left arm onto my lower back. "I got you then. Let go of my neck and and lock your knees on my shoulders. Don't worry. Won't let you fall."

"I know babe." I maneuvered myself and locked my right knee on his shoulder. He followed my movements and turned to face a wall, leaning my back against it. In moving my left leg onto his shoulder, his right arm and hand caressed my outer thigh while providing firm support, eventually grasping my lower back as well.

He now turned toward the bed again. "See. Couldn't let you fall now, could I?"

His infectious smile! Well in the privacy of a hotel room and a bed nearby, at least now I had the freedom to let myself go. I grab his neck again and pull him in for a kiss. At the same time, I felt his helmet approach my ass chute. He grinned and whispered, "Can't wait, babe."

Impatient, I trusted his grip on my waist and let go of his neck. I thank my lucky stars he leaked like crazy. Encountering minimal pain, my ass swallowed his dick and I smiled. "Neither can I." Loved how his bush tickled my ass cheeks.

"FUCK! You okay?"

"I'm more than okay. In the arms of a silver-haired daddy with a great grip on my back? I'm fuckin' great! P.S. If you're up for it, I don't think we need the bed."

He pulled back and thrust tentatively. "Maybe not, you crazy pup."

We alternated efforts: sometimes he'd thrust while I hung on and other times, I'd piston myself onto his stationary hips. For variety, I sometimes flexed my legs into a dancer's pointe. Guess this made a difference as he usually would roll his eyes backward when I did.

He opened his eyes and met my downward fall with an urgent thrust. Our eyes communicated it all. On my next rise, he grabbed his cock and prevented me from landing on it. I looked down and next thing I know, I saw his spunk jump between us. He quickly let go of his cock to grab mine.

The feel of his seed as lube was luxurious on my now sensitive cock and too much to process. Shortly, I added my own making his torso a rather erotic Jackson Pollock piece.

He turned toward the wall and leaned my back against it. "Wow, babe."

"Yeah." I caught my breath for a minute and asked to be put in bed. We fell in and took comfort in each others' arms.

 

Author's Note

I know. For the five people following the series, I certainly hope that the "bedroom physics" in this chapter makes up for the lack of it in the previous.

A big thank you, "Stuart"! Can't wait to visit LA now.

As seen in my previous chapters, this scene is different. While the photos that inspired the previous two chapters were compelling, they conjured questions of "I bet that guy has stories to tell" and imagined their past/background that led to that moment..

Stuart's pictures, on the other hand, had me wanting to jump right into the photo and join his handsome sexy self. Interesting, as I rarely get drawn to "camera acknowledgement" photos. But oh, those damn grey eyes.

If you have any comments, please feel free to shoot an email. Best efforts to read all incoming email, good or bad. If bad, I don't mind reading it but please be civil. The story might not have been what you were looking for, okay, understandable. I will try to answer all correspondence, though, give me time. Aspiring author trying to "make it" in the world of "paid" writing gigs and writing these Nifty Archive editions on the side as a fun distraction.

That being said, please consider making a donation to Nifty to keep their work going. Many of us have been enjoying the site for a while. I'm sure there are many instances out there where we've turned here to console us after a breakup, etc. and went back to our "favorites" that brought back the hope in humanity (and romance). Or am I just projecting?

- John B

john.bato@gmail.com

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