Date: Sun, 18 Jan 2009 17:07:00 +0000 From: Bill Drake Subject: White Collar Tales 10: Boss's Cabin White Collar Tales Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com) WARNING: The following is for adults only. It contains depiction of sexual acts between men. If this offends you or is inappropriate for you to read, go no further. Comments to billdrake@hotmail.com. For more of my stories, check out the Authors page of Nifty, or join my Yahoo group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/drakestories/ White Collar Tales #10 Boss's Cabin "Thanks for giving me a ride, Jim," I said, leaning my 6'2" bulky jock frame back in the comfortable leather seat of my boss's luxury car. It felt pretty great after the day I'd had. Fridays are a bitch for a newby analyst like me, as all the traders and brokers come to me in order to get their numbers end for their weekly quota, and it didn't help that I had the hangover to beat all for most of the day. The night before was sure a blast, though. Had met up with Pete Jensen, a rugby-playing college bud of mine working at Brown, Harriman, and we packed our beefy jock businessman bods into the confines of the latest financial district meat market. We were both dealing with the stress of a new career on the Street and I guess before we knew it had drunk a good deal. "I'm TDFP, big guy," Pete grumbled. It was our code for "too drunk for pussy." Not too drunk to fuck, mind you, just when you're a little too buzzed to be able to talk up any chick, then take her back to your place on the Upper East Side. When the odds are just against you. I clinked my beer against his pint glass then spread my thighs. My hardon poked up high and proud in my suit trousers, and I brushed my tie to the side so that Pete could see it. "Jesus, stud, I forget how big you are, Mike" he grinned before climbing down off the bar stool. I was no more than three paces behind him as he made his way to the men's room. Pete has one of the best backsides I know - full, meaty rump and strong, sinewed lats that bulged underneath his white dress shirt. He walked down to the handicapped stall at the farthest end of the bathroom. Doing a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, I entered after him. What followed was pure, primal ball-draining sex: first me knelt on the cold tile floor so I could pull down those tailored suit trousers and feast on that powerful butt, then a quick four minute fuck as I stood up and powerdrove my cock deep into my buddy while he leaned forward against the cinderblock wall. I left him good and wet when I stepped back and wiped off my dick before stuffing it back into my trousers. He smiled as he leaned up and surveyed the shower of cum he'd shot into the toilet. Just then we heard a knock at the stall. "Let me in guys," a deep whisper came from the other side. "I'm fucking horny as a goat listening to you two." I opened the stall door. A well-dressed corporate lawyer in his early 30s, with a wedding band and rakish grin, pushed his way in. Already a seven-incher was poking out of his open crotch. He slapped the cock in his hand a couple of times as he walked behind Pete. My bud's pants and underwear were still pulled down mid-thigh and our new visitor wasted no time in plugging his hole and starting a heavy, hard fuck. "Feels great, guy. Hope you don't mind it rough. Gotta let off some steam. Boss has been riding me all week." I knew Pete was gonna get juiced up good, so I stayed to watch. "Comfortable?" It was Fordham breaking me out of my reverie. We were already in Poughkeepsie. He nodded down at my crotch, which was full with my erect jock tool. "Shit, sir, I'm sorry." "No need for the sir out of the office, Mike," he said as if he were mulling something over. Even in the light of dusk, I couldn't help but admire his attractive features. "Unless you want, to. I like a man who shows respect, Kelley. Know what I mean?" If I didn't, he was gonna show me. Eagerly, his hand left the gear shift and fumbled at his crotch. He pulled down the suit zipper and I watched as a thick, powerful prick emerged. Big, round, commanding. Nice and with a slight tapered shape bulging wide in the middle, the shaft was smooth from the dark hairs at the base to the corona of his glans, the circumcision mark barely visible. Probably only a hair longer than my own seven incher now pulsing in my crotch, but fuller... fatter. And wet. He must have been horny, too. Not only was my boss rigid, his heavy nuts were drawn up tightly to the stalk. "We got thirty minutes before we get to the cabin, Kelley. Think you can coax a couple loads from these boys before we get there?" he asked, cupping his testicles in his paw. I loosened my tie and bent down to get to work. I don't know if it was the idea of sucking off my boss. Or maybe it was just the perfect shape and formidable size of his cock standing straight up from his crotch. Or maybe it was the silent, masculine way he just spread his thighs and just expected me to suck him. But I was on fire inside as I licked his prick, then opened up to take him inside. I fellated him. I worshipped him. I gasped down two gloppy loads of his slop. And I didn't lift my head til we pulled into the driveway of his lake cabin. "Wipe up," he ordered, handing me a handkerchief before zipping back up. The other men from the office were already there. Ed Barrett, blonde, burly, friendly bond trader; Mike Levinson, tall, dark and handsome private equity broker; Dave, the forty-five-and-fit junior partner with twinkling green eyes; and Jeff Williams, a hotshot stock picker. Dave handed me and the boss a beer as soon as we walked in. "Hey Kelley," Mike beamed, clearly well on his way to working a good buzz, "Glad you could make it. Hope the boss didn't work you over too hard on the way up." The men chuckled while I blushed deep crimson. Mr. Fordham slapped my back paternally and admonished his employees. "Come, now, fellas, you're making the boy embarrassed. That's not very sporting is it, guys?" The men all laughed and the conversation returned to normal, a litany of sports, shop talk and cursing. The beer was going to my head on an empty stomach, but I felt good, my day's hangover finally gone. I felt tired, too. I really needed a quick nap before I could be myself again. "The beds aren't made yet, Mike," Ed said. "Except for the first room there. Callahan's already staked out in that one. Just push him to the side if he's hogging up the bed." I felt my nuts tingle. Barrett's pearly white smile and gravelly-smooth, deep voice made any thing he said sound sexy. He could read the phone book and I'd get stiff. "Sure, Ed." I muttered and trudged to join Brian. Brian Callahan, a bond trader with the company for a few years now, was the rising star of the company. Competent, knew his shit, and wasn't afraid to elbow competitors out of the way. He was constantly taking me under his wing, giving me advice, trying to coax me from my analyst job to take up trading. "You got the shit, Kelley," he'd say. Right now, Brian's medium-tall, thirty-year-old frame was passed out and sprawled on the double bed. He was still in his navy pinstripe suit, only his tie was loosened and one of his shirt tails untucked. He moaned as I collapsed on the mattress next to him. I smiled as his hand raked my chest, but I barely registered our proximity before sleep overcame me. When I awoke his hand was still lying heavy on my chest. I looked at the thick stainless steel watch and saw I'd only been out for forty minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Brian was turned toward me and I could feel his breath tickle my exposed neck with every rush of air. The beer had loosened me up, blowing Fordham had made me ready for another round of man sex. I looked down my stretched out body and could see my cock growing erect in my trousers, its firmness stretching the wool fabric like a snake slithering under a blanket. Suddenly a hand curled around my excited mound. Callahan's grip felt fantastic squeezing it, kneading me to full-on hardness. "Wanna fool around, Kelley? The guys out there are probably still yabbering away," he chuckled. He didn't wait for an answer, but instead unzipped his pinstripe trousers and reached in, fishing around. How difficult is it to pull your dick, I thought to myself, only to gasp as a major trouser snake popped in view. I'd heard jokes from the guys about Long John Callahan, but I thought they were joking. They weren't. What Fordham had in girth, Brian showed in length. Eleven honest inches of stiff, nasty trader cock stretched upward toward my gaze. I must have been gawking because when my eyes swept back up to meet Brian's he smirked and whispered deep, "Like what you see, Kelley?" "Hell yeah," I grunted. I couldn't help it. I had to have it. Boldly, I took the exposed prick in my hand and kneaded it to full erection. Callahan fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out a familiar packet of lubricant. Seems lately I had been carrying a few around with me for emergencies, and I guess Brian was no exception. "That's it, jerk me man," he cooed as he squeezed the cool gel over my hand. Quickly, his dick was slicked up. "I gotta bust that butt of yours, bud. Gonna let me?" I unbuckled my belt and was rewarded with an appreciative groan as Brian watched me lower my pants. Kicked off my shoes and my pants and strattled his midsection. I didn't waste time, I just started sitting my ass down on Callahan's hard spike. "That's my buddy. Ah... hot, sweet ass I'm tapping. That's it, sit on it Kelley. " I moaned in pleasure as his knob passed straight over my internal mangland. My torso shuttered beneath my dress shirt. "We gonna be butt buddies from now on, Kelley? Sure as shit hope so." When the slow descent was done, I sat back victorious, feeling like I had a railroad spike staked up my rectum, but damn, it felt good, two businessjocks connecting after a long brutal week at the office. Callahan was feeling hella good, too, cause he had a big-ass smile on that sexy Irish face of his. "Hold still, buddy," he instructed as his long fingers curled around the meat of my thighs and his hips pulled back then powered forward. He knocked the wind out of me, but whatever treatment he dished out just made my own joint harder and wetter with fuck juice. Already Callahan's designer tie was spotted with huge gobs of my clear natural lubricant. I seized up from fucklust and grabbed his arms and shoulders through his fitted suit and held on for a fast and furious ride. Swack! Swack! Slick slapping sounds of our fucking grew louder and more rapid. "You got the shit, all right. Was worth the wait, Mike." My cock stuck up proud and ready to blow. Still, I maintained control and kept my hands off while Brian reamed me. Involuntarily I responded to each cock thrust by flexing my quads to lift myself up, only to feel Brian's harsh grip pull me back down. "Gonna let me juice you up, Kelley?" he breathed. "Yah," I croaked. "Go for it, man." "Shit, yes," he cried as he let loose. Deep within my guts, I felt his load pump... hard, powerful waves of semen spraying against my asswalls. My own dick throbbed and bobbed, the pissslit dilating in anger. Callahan must have known I was about to blow, cause he took his necktie and slipped it over my shaft like an old sock. The touch of the silk and the firmness of his grip was enough to send my seed firing away. "Ooh, yeah," Brian cooed as my ejaculate soaked his tie from the inside out. After I got up from his crotch, we pulled ourselves together. Brian slipped off his sperm-wet tie and tossed it in the corner, laughing at the load I'd shot. I took one last look at his extended schlong before he tucked it back into this suitpants. My ass was on fire from that missile, but I felt content and sated as I pulled on my trousers and got dressed. ... An hour later, we were eating burgers as soon as Ed flipped them off the grill. Full and buzzed on lager, some of the guys began firing up the extra large whirlpool. I was sipping my beer and listening to one of Fordham's raunchy stories when Dave leaned over and muttered in my ear. "So, Kelley... how was it?" I looked at the junior partner's beaming green eyes and shrugged. "Whaddya mean?" "The Callahan cock. I know you rode that trader meatstick, it's all over your face." "Yeah?" He looked away, licked his lips, then leaned back in. "I know my employees, Mike. Can read you fuckers like a book. So... how was it?" I laughed. "Fan-fucking-tasting, Dave." I smiled as I was still feeling Callahan's seed soaking my briefs through. "I want a taste." "You reading my thoughts, Dave?" Now it was his turn to laugh. His hand latched onto my belt buckle. In the second time in two hours, my pants were being shucked down. The guys around the grill were staring at us now. "Fan-fucking-tasting indeed," Dave echoed as his hand thrust under my briefs and felt the slick man slime filling my ass crease. I felt his bulk descend behind me. Two thumbs hooked the waistband and soon I was denuded to his gaze, his breath, and then his tongue. As the salt-and-pepper-haired manager ate away at my slop, I noticed that the men were stripping off their pants and suitcoats and stepping in the bubbling tub, shirts and ties intact. Lazily, they nursed their beers, told their jokes, and made out in the heated water. Jeff Williams and Brian dueled tongues and frigged each other's cocks. I was enjoying the sight of Levinson sucking on Barrett's fat one when Fordham leaned back and unbuttoned his shirt. His hard boss cock was up and at 'em again. "Kelley, get your ass over here!" Dave unhitched his mouth from my pulsing jock anus and gave a gentle push on the small of my back. I stepped forward to the hot and heating up scene in the tub. "Kick off those wingtips, dimwit. Don't want any tub scratches to explain to the wife." "Yes, sir," I replied. The boys from my office all stared and smirked as I wedged my tired, drunk jock bod into the tub and sat squarely down into Jim Fordham's lap. I met my boss in a deep, sloppy kiss and felt him push his dick inward, filling me full. Damn, I love my job.