Gay Erotic Stories

The fact was I was just plain exhausted. Steve is a sex machine. Every day, sometimes twice, I was called into his office for a "conference". Each time, it ended with his cock up my ass. I began to think that he deliberately delayed these sessions until late afternoon, just so I couldn't recover before bedtime. Somehow, he managed to get me off at least twice in every session. Not that that was a bad thing. After all, if you had to fuck your boss, it was better if there was something in it for you. But shit! A man had to keep some juice for his wife didn't he?

Once, I tried to fake him out by initiating a wake-up fuck with Angela. But Steve, ever clairvoyant, called me in early that day. Once he had me stripped, he scowled then sniffed my crotch. He sent me to the executive gym to shower and told me that if I ever came in smelling of cunt again, I would be fired on the spot. When I returned, he fucked me perfunctorily. He got me primed, but didn't give a chance to cum. I had to go to the men's room and relieve myself, with some guy noisily depositing last night's Mexican dinner in the next stall.

I took a week to get a handle on my group. Steve had given me the company's equivalent of the Black Sheep Squadron, a group that couldn't deliver useable code on time if their lives depended on it. I had just three weeks to show I could turn it around. I looked over the project in hand. It was a mess. As I worked my way through the layered code, I found that everybody was stepping all over everybody else's work. What the hell had Dennison, the old group leader, been doing? How the hell did he get this job? Then I remembered my own situation and the comment I had heard as I left the executive gym earlier in the week. No wonder I couldn't get any respect from my peers.

I didn’t eat with the other executives anyway. I had lunch with my people and the grunt programmers from other groups. This was where I would find out how things really worked and who was really good. I called in members of my team to discuss their performance (as well as I could decipher it from the abysmal documentation available) and to ask about their dream projects, those ideas that all programmers play around with on their own time. In the end, I figured that most of them were competent, but badly led. One was hopeless, a total bullshitter who belonged at the other end of a help line in India. Another was problematic in a different way. The real difficulty was that the group didn’t have even one really talented, hungry programming superstar. Two would be better, so that they could compete. I gave this some serious thought.

On Friday of my first week, I was called into Steve's office for a "conference". Actually, the quotation marks are not accurate. I was to find out that he sometimes liked to combine business with pleasure. Had you asked me earlier, I would have told you that talking figures and lines of code while in coitus would be real turn off. I found out that it was just the opposite if you were adroitly stimulated. Trying to keep the conversation on an intellectually coherent track while your penis screams "stroke me, suck me" and your ass says "plow me" is a remarkably daunting experience. Too much of one and you forget the line of conversation. Too much of the other and you droop disastrously. Steve, however, had the magic touch. I'd bet we got as much accomplished during some of these "working" fuck sessions as we ever did in conventional business meetings. That Friday was the first of those special sessions.

I arrived with a stack of personnel evaluations, hoping to make an impression on Steve before we started. It was the end of my first week and I hadn’t done anything to change the dynamics of my group. Oh, everyone was going through a lot of exaggerated motion to show the new boss that they were doing something--anything--but there wasn't any measurable output. Like a newly hired coach of a lower division team, I had to make a choice. Kick ass and hope that, with the same personnel, everybody would rise above their potentials or make some changes. I felt that I had a handle on my group and that changes were definitely warranted. I had come to convince Steve that that was what we needed to do.

Unfortunately, Steve was way horny. When I got there, he began with all that kissing shit that put me off. I had got to the stage in our relationship where I wanted to get my clothes off as soon as possible. Figure that out! A week earlier, I'd have done anything to keep them on. But without my clothes, he had a lot of other places to put his mouth. That day, though, he decided to play games. First he decided to shave me--leather strop, straight razor, brush, soap in a mug, the whole works.

Now, I'm not all that hairy to begin with. Tiny curls on my chest, a modest treasure trail, light fuzz most everywhere else. But I had very little body hair in high school, and Steve was on a campaign remake me into the high school Adonis I once was. He made me lay face up across his desk. Like most CEO desks it was an unbroken expanse of mahogany. He started with my face. I had never been shaved with a straight razor, so it was a bit scary. He thinned out my eyebrows. Then he moved to my chest.

He slathered the soap everywhere from my belly button to my shoulders. With long strokes of the angled blade, he peeled me clean. When he got to my pecs, he pinched each nipple tightly and pulled it away from my chest. Then he placed the blade against the skin and slid it away from his pinched fingers. While he did this, he twisted the nipple. By now I knew I was a complete sucker for nipple torture. I rapidly became hard. By the time he finished with the other tit, I had a ranging hardon. He quickly proceeded down my belly with the efficiency of an old fashioned barber.

He re-lathered and began applying soap to my groin, holding my cock like a goddamn stick shift. I shuddered.

"Hold still, Jake!" he warned, "unless you want to lose some important equipment."

"How are things going in the group," he continued casually. "I haven't heard from you yet."

This was the first of our "working" encounters, so I was taken aback. I had never had a boss ask me for a performance report with my stiff dick in his hand and a straight razor a quarter of an inch away from its base. It tends to focus one's thoughts.

"I've spent the week going over their work and talking to them one-on-one," I reported. "The team's work is terribly disorg … Oh shit, Steve, be careful! … disorganized."

"So, you have a plan to fix it?" he asked. "Slide up a little. Good. Don’t flex or tense. Good." Steve leaned down and licked a drop of precum leaking from the tip of my cock. It was the first time his tongue had ever touched my cock.

"Precum tastes different from the full ejaculate," he explained. "Did you know that, Jake?"

"No, I didn't. … Oh fuck!" He was now shaving my balls.

"So the plan is …" He had pulled my legs apart and was shaving the area between my balls and my asshole. If you think licking or stroking that area is hot, try having it shaved by a guy you know is going to fuck you next.

"It's not that … Ahhhhhh … s…s…simple," I stammered. "Four of the guys are competent, but none is a star. Barron is a complete jerk. Totally worth … Steeeeeeve! … worthless. I can’t find five grand worth of code from him in the last year." He was now working on my legs and I could think better.

"So what do we do about him?" Steve asked.

"Fire him," I said. "Everyone knows he doesn’t pull his weight. They'll accept it and it'll put them on their toes."

"That's your call, Jake … Roll over so I can do your back … Tell Kate Dancer to arrange for termination papers … Did I ever tell you how much I love your ass, Jake? I guess I did … You've got to do it yourself though. Face-to-face. Then tell your group. No thief-in-the-night sandbagging, like I did to Dennison. I had my own reasons for that."

I had guessed what they were. If I were ever fired, it would probably be in the same fashion. While he did my back I described the other problems with the group, especially the absence of a key programmer or two. I mentioned one guy, Larry Daniels, that I thought would be a real asset. I had talked it over with his boss (one of the few managers that didn’t seem to resent me) and he was okay with it. Steve gave it his okay.

By that time he was shaving my ass. "I want someone else, too," I announced. "A contractor. Real hot programmer … Ohhhhhh, mannnnnnn! …" He had brushed my hole with the razor. Deliberately, I was sure. I gathered my thoughts and continued. "He's available now, but we have to move fast."

"You’re not budgeted for a contractor," Steve noted. He set the razor down and ran his hands up and down my back. Gradually his manipulations became more forceful and eventually turned into a full body massage. He climbed onto the desk and lay across my back with his hard cock in the crack of my ass. He began to fuck my crack. His weight ground my hard cock into the desk.

"Man, Steve," I protested. "It isn't easy to argue my point from this position."

"Wait until you have to present to the Executive Committee. You'll be wishing that all you had to deal with is a cock rubbing along your ass."

"Oh Geez … All right … Wait … OK." I sucked in some air and said. "You can use some of that ninety grand you saved when you hired me. More, if you use Dennison's salary."

"How do you know …" Steve stopped, guessing the answer. "All right, who is this wunderkind?" He slid off me and back down to the floor. "Slide back, so that your hips are at the edge of the desk; good. You can let your legs drop to the floor. Yeah. Like that. Now reach out with both hands and cross your wrists."

He rummaged through a desk drawer and pulled out a roll of duct tape. While he wrapped tape around my wrists, I said, "His name is Danny Yamoto. Another refugee from Selpro. Unlike me, he's doing contract work by choice. He's fast and smart. He'll work well with Daniels." And, I didn't say, he's an Amerasian beauty as well as a flaming faggot.

Steve spread my legs and taped my ankles to the legs of his desk. He pulled a length of window blind cord from a drawer and looped the through the tape around my wrist. He pulled until I was stretched taught, draped it over the other edge of the desk and tied it to a far leg. He picked up a remote from the credenza and clicked. A set of cabinet doors across the room opened to reveal a large plasma display. On it was a picture of me stretched out on the desk with Steve caressing my ass.

"You're taping this?" I exclaimed.

"Digital capture, actually," he replied. "I record them all. Richard Nixon, eat your heart out."

The scene on the display changed to an overhead shot and continued to change every 20 seconds. Eventually, I figured out that there were four different cameras. Each would record the entire encounter. They would be edited them down later into a private porn flick. He showed me one of the finished products at a later date. He had even laid in a synth track. It was a thoroughly professional job.

Smack! "Owwww!" Smack! Smack!

I hadn’t been spanked since I was about 6 years old. Steve dipped his fingers in a glass of ice water and spread the cold liquid over the area he had just slapped. The cold water on my burning ass felt great.

"So that's it?" he said. "One transfer, one contractor and the group is fixed?" Smack! Smack!

My cock jumped with each slap. Through gritted teeth, I said, "Don't forget, a new group leader, too."

"Right. There is that; for what its worth." He took an ice cube and slid it around my buttocks, eventually dipping it into the crack and resting it on my hole. It was too much. I began to cum. As I did, I clenched my ass cheeks, dislodging the cube from his hand. What was left of the cube spurt out from between them and flew across the room. Meanwhile, I continued to spurt jism from my cock. I was not disappointed, though. By now, I knew that Steve would get me to cum at least one more time. When I had settled down I said, "There is one m…" Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap! "Uhhhhhhhhh. One more thing."

Ice again. "What's that?"

"Kryzynski." SLAP!

"Forget it. He's off limits." Slap! "Untouchable."

Steve uncapped the lube and began working it into my anus. I had to admit that I did have one hot ass. I no longer needed as much prep as I did a week ago. His three fingers slid in easily. I watched on the monitor, while one cam automatically focused on his fingers. Clever programming! Steve withdrew his fingers then positioned himself behind me. He pressed the head against my hole, and paused, posing for the camera. He pushed in smoothly, taking about two seconds to bottom out. A small cramp subsided fairly quickly. He began to pump me.

"Uhhhh," I remarked. "Untouchable? Why? Because he's blind? …Slow down for a minute. OK? … I'm for affirmative action, too. But just because there are many fine handicapped programmers doesn’t mean that they all are. …Oh, shit! … Kryzynski leaves his code a mess. Others have to go in and fix it. In the end we spend twice as many man-hours as it would take to rewrite it from scratch. The other guys do it willingly. They really like him. Maybe fell a little sorry for him, too. So do I. … Oh, Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me! … But it's no wonder the group falls so far behind. Besides I don’t want to fire him."

"What then?" The conversation must have been pissing him off because he started hammering me like never before. I couldn’t reply immediately. I just gritted my teeth and hung on.

After he settled down, I said, "Promote him. Not a sham promotion, either. He's got good ideas. His design work is solid, even elegant. That's why it takes the white bread programmers so long to fix it. Too unconventional. … Godammit! You make it hard to carry on a conversation, Steve. Unhhh! … Kryzynski has been working on the side on a new strategy for handicap accessibility. It's intriguing. It might or might not make a big difference in our core product, but if it pans out, it'll be patent worthy and could g.. g…Shit! ...generate considerable license fees. I want you to give him a small group of entry level programmers, just one or … Uhhh!… two. Interns or co-ops from a university computer science department would be great. If it doesn’t pan out in a year or so, you're only out the pittance you pay the college kids. You've been eating Kryzynski's salary for three years anyway."

Steve made no verbal reply. He resumed pounding me for about two minutes, but slowly, this time. The monitor showed his lips pursed and his brows furrowed. Finally, at the extreme of an “in-thrust”, he stopped with me fully impaled. He reached across my back to the intercom at the far end of the desk. "Kate, come in here, please!"

I was stunned. His personal secretary, Kate Dancer, walked in through a side door I didn't even know was there. She took in the situation matter-of-factly, and said to me, "Good morning, Mr. Walker," then to him "Yes, Sir?"

He resumed plowing my ass in a steady rhythm, "First. Authorize a $65,000 line for a contract programmer for Walker's group. Transfer the funds from those recovered when Dennsion was fired." I tried as hard as I could not to react, but he went deeper than I expected. "Uuuuuunh!" Dancer smiled.

"Second. Temporary transfer of programmer Larry Daniels from Atkins' group to Walker's. One year. Cross transfer of programmer that Walker will designate later. No budget adjustment. … You're riding up the desk, Jake. The tape is loosening. Slide down a little closer to the edge. Good. Oh yeah. That's sweet! Real sweet!"

I turned my head away. I couldn't believe that I was doing this in front of his secretary. "Third. You'll like this one, Kate. Walker thinks he has figured out how to use Kryzynski effectively. No shit! Here's his idea. Create a group. … God, Jake. Your ass is so fine! So fine!… No wait. It can’t be a "group". Call it a 'development unit'. Keep it in Walker's budget. (This is your baby, Jake. You've got to make it fly.) Kryzynski will head it. Make up a title that means nothing and has no particular cachet. You're good at that, Kate. Hang on for a sec. He's getting dry."

Steve pulled out, took the bottle of lubricant, and squeezed it all over my back and down my ass. He took both hands and spread the fluid around, working it into my hole. He realigned himself and thrust back in without preliminaries. He leaned forward so that his chest rubbed along my over my back with every thrust of his hips. I was so very on the edge again.

"Sorry, Kate. The reason for the title change is that I don't want other programmers to think that Kryzynski has beaten them out for a position they could have had or would have wanted. Give him an immediate salary raise of five percent. I want him to be bitching about all the new responsibility without the proper pay. Then, over a period of nine months we'll raise it 25% more, quietly, with no notice."

"Fourth. …Mmmff! … Design and cost out an internship program with the local universities. Four slots within two years. The first two go to Kryzynski in about two months. Budget… Let’s talk about that one. We always have the excess funding of Walker's position. Apparently Walker here is already aware of that. Loose lips, Kate. Loose lips. Remember that."

"Yes, Sir," she replied. "I'm sorry. It was indiscrete of me."

"Fifth. One extra contractor for Walker's group." I hadn't even asked for that! "Let's see what he can do with real resources."

"Budget?"

"Take it out of my discretionary fund."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Sixth. Stay and watch if you like. I'm having a blast. You should, too."

"No, Sir. Thank you very much, but I think Mr. Walker is uncomfortable with this situation. I'll catch it on the video." Dancer exited through the same panel from which she entered.

"You let her see the videos?" I asked incredulously.

"See 'em?" he replied. "She edits them down for me! She graduated from UCLA film school. You see, she's in love with me. As near as I can tell, I'm in love with her, too. Since she knows I can’t fuck her, she gets herself off watching me fuck guys, sometimes in person, sometimes on video. Transference, I think they call it."

He reached around me to twist my nipples and resumed pumping me furiously. I began to cum again as he ejaculated into my bowels. He collapsed on top of me in utter exhaustion. God! If I were gay, this would be the best job I could imagine. But I wasn't, and I had a means now to divert his interest.

After he had recovered, Steve pulled out. He ducked into his private bath and I could hear him showering. He was dressed in sweats when he came out. He grabbed his laptop and waked out through the secretaries' office. "Night, Kate. Have a nice weekend."

"You too, Sir."

About five minutes later, Kate entered. She went into Steve's bathroom and came out carrying a couple of towels and a wet washcloth. She used the washcloth to wipe most of the lube from my back. She cupped my butt cheeks with her hand and traced her finger deep down in the crack until she came to the stream of white jism oozing out. I watched in the monitor as she brought a glop up and regarded it intently as it ran down her hand. She lifted to her nose and inhaled, then closed her eyes and licked it off ostentatiously, just as Steve had done with my own cum that first time, a short week ago.

Kate then parted my cheeks with her hands. The software automatically causes the camera with the clearest shot to zoom for a close-up. (If Steve wrote that software, he was damn good.) More cum was draining out. Kate leaned down and licked it clean. There wasn't much doubt as to why Steve had tied me down. A lot of planning had gone into this. Then Kate slid her two index fingers into the hole and spread it wide. She planted he tongue deep to scoop out as much of Steve's junk as she could. She reached down into her panties and began diddling herself. Almost immediately, she began making those mewling sounds that some women do. He tongue was long and probed me deeply. Within about 30 seconds she was squirming wildly on her finger. She shuddered about six times then withdrew her face from my ass. I was hard, of course, but after two ejaculations, it wasn't enough to get me off.

Kate wiped her face, and then finished cleaning up my ass and legs. She got a pair of scissors out of a drawer. After cutting the duct tape at my ankles and wrists, Kate led me off the desk. She wiped my cum off my belly with the wash cloth and dried it. My stiff eight inch cock pointed straight at her. Kate dropped to her knees and took it into her mouth. After a few preliminary in-and-out head motions, she brought it against the back of her throat, angled her head, and opened her throat, wide wider, and in it went. She brought it back out, and repeated the process five more times. Her eyes were directed upwards to see my reaction.

Well, I wasn't stupid; this was planned as well--an object lesson for the guy who was letting her boss down in the cocksucking department. It was embarrassing, but I nodded that I understood. I still didn’t think I could do it, but the mechanics were pretty clear. Once that was done, she pulled back slightly until the head was in her mouth. With the dexterity and dispassion of a twenty-dollar whore on the clock, she brought me off within thirty seconds. She spat it out into a towel. It was like a mediocre dessert after a fine meal. Okay, but disappointing in context. The only thing she was into was masturbating while tasting her boss's cum. My blowjob was the price she had to pay to do it.

As I put on my trousers, she busied herself with cleaning the spilled lube and cum from the desktop. On my way out, she remarked, "Nice day's work, Mr. Walker," she said. I gritted my teeth and turned the doorknob.

"Mr. Walker!" I turned to face her. She was smiling. "No kidding. I mean it. I've never seen him happier. You're good for him. I thought you were just another Dennison, but you aren't. You're a good manager, too. That Kryzinski thing is sweet. You don't know how much time has been wasted on what to do about him. Keep up the good work--on both sides of that door."

"Thanks … Kate." I winked and turned to exit.

"One more thing, Mr. Walker..."

"Yes?"

"You really do have a fine, fine ass."

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