Green Tea free porn video

Mitch keeps glancing at me. I wonder if he knows. I don't see how he could but he certainly seems like he's suspicious. At the head of the table, Bob drones on. These meetings are interminable. Bob's ideas are stale, his organizational skills - zilch. I estimate the company loses a hundred grand every time we meet. Bob's neck has to be on the chopping block. If not, it's time for me to look for another job. I don't want to work for a company stupid enough to keep Bob on as a division manager.

I take a sip from my mug. I feel Mitch's eyes on me and suppress a smile. He's a smart fucker but there is no way he knows.

Bob drones on. He outlines his latest idea to streamline inventory. I can see from the way they shift in their seats, at least two other people besides myself and Mitch spot the glaring flaws in his plan. I take another sip, stifling a grimace by reminding myself that I deserve it. I rationalize my actions as being for the good of the company. They are. They are also good for me. I won't be taking Bob's place. I'm too junior, but whenever someone above you gets the ax, we all move up. I had carefully, very carefully, fed this idea to Bob. I was confident he could fill in the blanks and even more confident he wouldn't be able to spot the fatal flaws. He babbles on, not bothering to give me any credit for the idea, something else I had counted on. I didn't want to be associated with the coming disaster. The more Bob talks, the less guilty I feel. He didn't have to steal my idea and run with it. True, the idea he stole was wrapped around a poison pill but he was still a dick, a dumb one to boot.

I'm too junior to move into Bob's role but I'm ready with a means for correcting the havoc his plan will cause. That will get me noticed. And getting noticed, will move me to within striking distance of Bob's job. From there, VP, probably operations but finance would be fine, and then it's only a matter of time. It scares me how good I am at this shit. Maybe when I leave the corporate world behind I'll consider politics. I bet being a senator or governor would be a blast.

Bob thanks us for wasting an hour of our lives we'll never get back and the room fills with the soft clicks of closing laptops and the sc**** of chairs. Mitch comes around the table. I take a sip.

"You got a few minutes boss?" Mitch inquires. He sounds nervous.

"Only if you quit calling me boss," I snap. I regret it when his face falls. "Look k**, I know you're busting your hump but you aren't getting paid. You are an unpaid intern for christ sake, no one can claim to be your boss. You don't fucking work here. Well, you work here but you aren't employed here. I'm your supervisor or business big brother or some shit, but I'm not your boss. Call me Stan, damn it."

His head starts nodding. "Sure, uh, Stan. Do you have a minute?"

I jerk my head toward the door and he follows me down the hall toward my office. It's not a corner office but it has a door and a roof, no more cubicles for me. I motion him in and closed the door after me. He takes a chair and I consider the settee but decide to sit behind the desk. I lean back in my chair, let my hands rest in my lap, and ask him what I can do for him.

"Well, uh, Mr. Spaulding's, um his plan, I'm not sure, well I don't think it will work," he finally spits out.

"Why not?"

His eyes widen perceptibly, "You know why. We talked about it. That's my idea, the one we talked about last week. You heard me out and then helped me see why it would never work."

"Yes."

He looks more confused.

"How do you suppose Bob stumble on that idea?" I ask, while studying Mitch's face. He's twenty-two, almost twenty-three, but he has a baby face. He'll get carded for booze until he's fifty. He's a good looking little shit, too. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, open earnest face and lips that make me want to jerk my dick out and beat off under the table.

He thinks for a moment, then leans forward. "You told him about it. Jesus, why?"

"I didn't tell him about it," I reply with a soft shrug of my shoulders. I take a sip from my mug. I can't hide the grimace this time. It's cold. "I hinted around the broad outlines of it. He filled in the rest."

"But why?"

I gaze at him, take another sip, wait.

"You want him to get fired," Mitch blurts out, eyes wider than ever. I salute him with my mug.

"But boss, Stan, that's so cold, dude. I mean, wow."

"Bob's done, regardless," I say as I lean forward. "He's out of his league. You can see it and you're only a fucking intern, a bright intern but still an intern. He needs to go, the sooner the better, before he drags us all down with him."

Mitch eyes me for a moment. It's clear he's not sure whether or not he should say what he's thinking. I nod. "Go on."

"It might be good for the company but it's sure to be good for you."

I salute him with the mug once more as I come around the desk. I take a sip as he rises.

"I didn't know you were a tea drinker?"

"I'm not."

Mitch frowns. "Looks like green tea. It isn't coffee. If it isn't tea what is it? Mountain Dew?"

"No," I say with a shake of my head. "It's not Mountain Dew. It's piss, my piss."

He stares at me. I set the mug on the end of the desk. Mitch is not capable of moving as I unzip my pants. I fish my cock out, hold the mug under the head and piss. I have to cut it off before the mug overflows. My cock still hanging out of my pants I bring the cup to my lips and take a long drink.

"Piss," I whisper as I set the mug down and zip up.

Mitch is still staring.

"Beat it k**. Be at my condo at 7 sharp." He stands. "Go on, beat it but be at my place at 7, don't be late." He starts to leave. "Go to the gym first, full work out, cardio, lift, the works before you come over. And, this is important, don't shower after."

He opens his mouth, closes it without speaking, and leaves.

---

My condo is fairly simple. A loft with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen is nice but I don't have much time to cook. As I expect, the buzzer goes off a minute before seven. I buzz Mitch in. A moment later he knocks and I yell for him to come in.

He stands inside the door, staring again.

"Lock it please, Mitch." He does but remains in place. "Come on in."

He's shaking his head. "Stan, dude, I'm not like gay or anything."

I smile. "I suppose greeting you naked, with a hard on and a cock ring gave me away huh?" I shrug. "It doesn't matter whether or not your gay Mitch. It'll work out okay. Trust me."

"Boss, I think I really ought to just leave," he stammers, turning toward the door.

"I don't think that would be a good idea Mitch," I say in a soft voice and he pauses. "Too much trouble k**. You could report me to Bob, or even higher, report me to your university but I'll muddy the waters. No one will know what to believe. I'll be hurt but so will you and, not to be a total dick, but I can afford to take a hit more than you can." I give him a sympathetic smile. "Besides, you might even have a little fun." He starts to say something but I halt him with an upraised hand. "I'm not going to ask you to do anything you couldn't do with a girl. I'm not interested in fucking you. I'm not going to ask you to suck my cock, not that I would object if you decided to volunteer. No k**, the way this will work, you should have most of the fun."

I gesture toward the sofa and tell him to have a seat. He does. I go to the refrigerator and get him a bottle of beer, one I've seen him drink before. I grab a bottle of Fuji water off the counter.

"Here, drink these," I instructed, setting the bottles in front of him. My laptop is linked to the flat screen TV. I open a folder full of various porn, each in its own folder, gay, straight, bi, fetish, soft BDSM, some heavier. His eyes scan the folders and he drains the beer in one long draught. He's only a few months out of college. Of course, he can chug a beer. I don't ask, I simply get him another one.

I hand him the remote. "You pick," I tell him and sip my own beer. He takes a long drink and opens the straight porn folder. He picks a facial compilation and hits play.

"You like that?" I ask. "You like cumming on someone's face?"

He nods.

"Good," I nod. "We can work with that." The movie plays on. It's not my favorite. The humiliation aspect is interesting but I can't help but mourn all that delicious jizz going to waste. Now if the dude had cum on the chick's face then licked it off, that would have been hot. I let him finish the second beer.

I bring him a third. "Take your clothes off Mitch," I tell him as he reaches for the beer. He looks resigned.

"Stan, it doesn't matter to me what you're into and shit but I'd rather..."

"k**, sorry but clothes, off, now," I insist in a voice that makes it clear arguing is pointless.

He strips. His cock isn't hard but the head is wet and so is the front of his underwear. I've never seen him naked before. His body is as hot as his face. He's not chiseled. I like that. I prefer to avoid obvious narcissists. He's not chiseled but he's trim and is well defined. His pecs are firm, no man boobs on this k**. The hair in his pits is thick and darker than the hair on his head. His pubes are dark and thick. God I hope he has a hairy ass. His chest sports only a few hairs around the nipples. His belly has a few around his navel and then a nice passion trail down to his pubes. My cock throbs.

His cock is fucking luscious looking. He's a k**. He can't help getting hard being stared at. His eyes aren't on me, they're on the porn. If that helps, it's okay by me. He's uncut, a big plus in my book. HIs balls hang heavy and are furred. Even half limp, his cock is impressive enough. It's nice and thick and roped with veins. The head is hidden but I'm betting, hoping, it sports a flared crown and a nice big piss slit.

He's still standing. "You can sit if you want Mitch," I whisper. He does but doesn't speak.

"Finish your beer."

"I'm going to need to take a leak soon." It's the first words he's spoken in a while.

I smile. "Oh, I sincerely hope so k**. I really do."

His eyes jerk toward me. I smile. He shakes his head. His eyes drop to my cock. It's a deep red. I'd be lying if I said it was really painful. I use a cock ring that is almost too loose. I ache but it's mostly my balls and mostly desire.

"Doesn't that hurt?" I hear a touch of curiosity. Good, anything to get his mind off his unease.

"A little," I reply. "I deserve it don't you think?" His eyes are fixed to mine as I continue. "Look at what a dick I can be. Look what I'm doing to Bob. Look what I'm doing to you for that matter. Shouldn't I hurt a little, Mitch?"

He nods, a single quick jerk of his head.

"You think I deserve more pain?" I ask. His eyes widen a little, then narrow. He nods.

"Open the drawer of the coffee table." He does as I ask. "Know what those are?"

He nods. "Sure, they're clamps."

"What do you want to do with them?"

He eyes me. He starts to speak then closes his mouth. He leans over, pulls my nipple up between his fingers and lets the clamp snap closed. I hiss at the bite. He didn't ease the clamp closed: he simply let it go. Good boy. He does the same to my other nipple. Soon the sting of pain settles into a low chorus of throbbing aches.

I see him turn back to the drawer. He has three more clamps in his hands. He reaches for my cock.

"Not on my cock Mitch," I tell him, using my at-work voice. "You can put them on my ball sack, along the edge of my armpits, pretty much anywhere else but not on my cock. I'm not going to mess around with safe words. If I ask you to stop, or to not do something, I'll mean it and expect you to listen. Is that okay with you?"

He nods. His eyes are hot. His dick is hard. He stares at me.

"Tell me what to do," I pause. "Boss."

His eyes glow ever more intensely.

"On your knees," he demands. "Lean over the back of the couch."

I do, arching my back, pushing my ass up. He reaches between my legs, grabs a bit of the skin on my ball sack and pulls it back. One, two, three, in quick succession he puts the clamps on the line that divides my nut sack into two. I roll my head and hiss again, as the pain races up my spine.

"You like that?" His voice is harsh demanding. He smacks my ass with one hand. "I'm fucking talking to you, pussy. I said," another smack. "Do you like that?"

"Yes," I gasp. "Yes, I do."

"Get me another beer."

I do as he instructs.

"Back on your knees pussy," he snaps. I hear him pick up the remote. The sound coming from the TV changes. He's selected a different folder. I hear the unmistakable sound of leather on skin. He leaves it there.

"You like that, too?"

"Yes, sir."

"You have that kind of shit around here too?"

"Yes, sir."

He hits my ass again, harder. "Well, fucking show me. Christ, don't just sit there like a fucking lump."

He drains his beer. His fourth. I drop the submissive voice.

"Mitch, grab a bottle of water, another beer too if your up for it," I tell him, once more sounding as if I'm giving him a task at work. He looks confused for a moment, nods, and detours to the kitchen before following me into the guest bedroom. I've spent the afternoon getting it ready.

Mitch gasps as he enters the room. There is a suspended swing, hanging leather cuffs, a spreader bar, assorted paddles, dildos, leather crops, and a ball gag. I point at the ball gag.

"Do me a favor Mitch will you?" I ask. "Toss that into the top drawer in the dresser. We're not ready for that little baby. We don't read each other well enough for me not to be able to speak to you. Not yet anyway," I add with a leer. He does as I ask. When he turns, it's the submissive me that awaits him.

He looks around, still a little lost. I'm not worried. The k** is sharp. He points towards the dangling cuffs.

"Over there."

I obey. He raises one arm, then the other, over my head and cuffs my wrists. I make sure they are loose enough I can pull out of them if I need to. I have them set high enough that I have to stand on my toes.

Mitch crosses to the bed. He picks up a couple of the paddles and looks at them. I watch him in the mirror. He picks a broad leather one with raised studs. The studs are rounded and barely raised. I'm not a total freak. I keep my head down, watching in the mirror. When he turns, I see his cock is still hard. Whether he chooses to admit it or not, part of him is enjoying this.

"How hard?" His voice sounds almost normal.

"Start fairly soft, make it harder until I say enough, or you get tired."

He doesn't answer but lays one across my left ass cheek. It's not hard at all, more of a tap than a swat. The next one is a little harder, and the next and the next. The fifth one is close. On the sixth one I say, "Enough."

"That all you can take. You fucking pussy," Mitch answers, laying the next one on the right cheek of my ass. It's harder than the sixth but I expected that. He moves from cheek to cheek. Every blow sways my body, sways my ball sack and makes the clamps sting. I purposely exaggerate the sway of my chest. The nipple clamps are not heavy and it takes a lot to make them sway and tug. My ass is on fire. My cock throbs and long strands of precum begin to stretch from the head before falling to the floor. A small puddle is forming. No doubt, it will grow larger before we are finished.

The interval between Mitch's blows begins to lengthen. He doesn't realize it but that heightens the pain, giving my numb ass cheeks a chance to recover before the next blow lands.

"Is that enough?"

"Sir, that is for you to decide," I answer with my head hanging forward on my chest. In the mirror, I can see a line of sweat running down his face. He's silent.

"What does sir desire?" I ask after a moment.

"To go home," he responds immediately.

I raise my head so that he can tell I'm looking at him in the mirror.

"Then undo my wrists, if you are sure that's what you want."

He unbuckles my wrists. I turn to face him. "If sir would like, I would be happy to suck his cock."

Mitch shakes his head and is quiet for a moment. "I've never done that," he whispers.

"You've never gotten a blow job?"

"Huh? No, I've never let a guy give me a blow job."

"You think your cock will know the difference. I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm asking you to allow me to do something, something I think both of us will enjoy."

He shakes his head again. "I don't think so," he sighs. "Can I go now?"

"Of course, Mitch. At the moment you are still in charge, within certain limits. If you wish to leave, you may do so."

"Okay." He nods and begins to turn. "Can I use your bathroom before I go?"

"Of course," I answer. He stops when I add, "With one caveat."

His face remains passive as I point toward the bathroom. I follow him. He stands, waiting, though surely he must know what I want. I step into the large shower and kneel.

"Piss on me," I command. "On my cock, on my chest, in my mouth." I dispense with the faux submissiveness. He won't do this unless it is a command.

"Do it," I snap as I tilt my head back and open my mouth.

He only half dribbles at first, then his alcohol and water fed bladder lets go. He hits me in the face. His piss is so dilute it barely stings my eyes. He corrects his aim and the hot man piss of my young intern fills my mouth. I swallow and swallow again but most of his piss flows out of my mouth, over my chin, and down my chest where it puddles around my knees. He pisses hard and long, as only young men are capable of. I nearly choke from the force of it. Finally, he is depleted.

"May I go now?"

"Of course, Mitch. Thank you."

As he turns, I stop him with a question.

"May I shower tonight or should I sleep with your piss dried on my body."

"No shower," he snaps. His anger is real. A product of his confusion more than anything else.

"Yes sir. I'll see you at the office."

He leaves without saying a word. I remove the cock ring but don't masturbate. I let his piss dry on my body. I take off the clamps one by one, savoring the sudden sharp discomfort and delicious ache that blossoms as each is released. I save the nipple clamps for last. I sleep well.

---

My ass throbs as I take my seat for yet another meeting featuring a discourse by Bob. He's moving ahead full steam. I know there are at least two, if not three people, in the room who know what he proposes is absurd. They are as silent as I am. I do not think their silence arises from a fear of disagreeing with him, rather, like myself, I know their silence arises from a desire to see him out of the picture. We break up and I return to my office. I go over my plan for correcting the disaster Bob is about to unleash on our supply chain. I need to ensure I take it to the right person. The person most likely to replace Bob and I need to both bring it to his attention before anyone else but not so quickly as to suggest that I've been anticipating the disaster. But is that the right move? Patton began to reposition his forces as soon as he learned of the German attack in what would become the battle of the Bulge. Could I not explain I had doubts about Bob's plans and went to work on an alternative? But might I not then be asked to explain why I had not voice my concerns earlier? When possible, honesty, or as much of it as one can afford, is best. Why not simply admit to Bob's successor that I thought it best to let Bob fall, for the good of the company of course?

My ruminations are interrupted by a knock on my door. I had closed it, something I rarely do, closed doors arouse suspicion, but today I needed some quiet time to think over my next steps. I'm surprised to see Mitch. I had assumed he'd keep his distance, pretend nothing happened.

"Stan, got a minute?"

"Sure, come in. Have a seat."

This time I move from behind the desk and take a seat on the settee. Mitch pauses, asks if he should close the door. I tell him it's his choice. He closes the door. He hesitates and then sits in one of the chairs opposite the small glass table in front of the settee.

"What's on your mind Mitch?"

"About last night," he offers.

I simply stare at him for a moment before replying, "What about it, Mitch?"

"I didn't mean to piss you off."

"Did I seem angry?"

"No, but I know you wanted , uh you know, more."

"I do know but I'm a fan of the Stones. Are you a fan of the Stones Mitch?"

He shakes his head.

"Too bad k**. I understand that I can't always get what I want."

"So we're okay then? I mean work-wise. I think I've been doing a good job. I don't want this to jeopardize my recommendation."

"Thinking you've only been doing a 'good' job is a bigger threat to that than anything else. 'Good' is rarely sufficient. You've been doing an outstanding job. Don't be bashful about acknowledging it." I regard him carefully as I ask my next question. "Do you think I'm the sort of person who would hold something personal against you in the context of your work?"

"Well, you've shown you can be ruthless. I'm thinking of Bob now. I think if you could use this to your advantage you would. However, I don't see any obvious advantage to you."

I nod, pleased. "Excellent. You're right I would and you're also right there is no advantage to me. Why do you think I didn't pushed you, at least not too much, last night?"

He shrugs and I frown, disappointed.

"I value your work here. I need you focused. If I pushed too hard you'd either leave or be too distracted to do your best work. That disadvantages me. My personal desires are, for the most part, secondary. Understand?"

He nods and rises. He pauses beside the chair. "Did you really not take a shower?"

"I did this morning, not last night. I sleep well, reeking of your piss."

He's starts at the blunt nature of my reply and shakes his head. I push a little further.

"Not even the pain in my ass kept me from sleeping like a lamb. Want to see your handiwork?"

Before he can answer, I turn and drop my trousers. It's a risk. My door doesn't lock. I hear Mitch gasp. I'm not surprised. This morning I took pleasure at the sight of the punctate bruises the studs left on my ass. When I turn back, my cock is hard. Mitch's face looks concerned but I see a bulge in his trousers.

"I did that?"

"Who else? Don't be distressed. You did as I wished." Despite my early claim that I do not let the personal threaten the professional, such is not always the case.

"Unzip your trousers, Mitch," I state as I refasten my own. He stares at me blankly. "Go on. I think part of you wants to. Satisfy that part. You'll need to at some point. Either you'll like what I do to you or you won't, but at least you'll know. It won't keep you awake any longer. Unlike me, you slept poorly did you not?"

He nods.

"Unzip your pants Mitch. Take out your cock for me. Right here. Do it." He hesitates. "Would you rather I do it? Would that be easier?"

He shakes his head and reaches for his zipper. He unzips his trousers, unbuttons his boxers, and fishes inside with two fingers. His cock is half-hard when he frees it. I drop to my knees and before he can react, I take his cock into my mouth.

He isn't hard yet and I can easily take the entire length into my mouth. I savor that slightly salty taste of cock. It may be my favorite taste in the world.. Despite what Penthouse Forum would have you believe cum does not taste salty. It is not his precum I taste but the taste of sweat. His crotch doesn't smell. It isn't even noon yet but like anyone wearing underwear and trousers, he has perspired. I gently free his balls from the snare of his zipper while I moll his cock in my mouth. I tug at it gently, lapping the undershaft with my tongue as he grows hard.

I much prefer to feel a cock grow hard in my mouth as opposed to sucking one already standing at attention. As it lengthens, I allow it to slip deeper into my throat. When his cock is finally velvet covered iron, I pull my mouth away and do what I've longed to do since catching a glimpse of his cock at the urinal weeks ago. I run my tongue under his foreskin. Heaven. His precum has gathered there and I wick it away with my tongue into my hungry mouth. I feel him tense but he remains quiet. He as cognizant as I that only a thin wall and door separate us from our co-workers. It's a foolish risk but oh my how it sharpens the senses.

Mitch is not a k** but he's not all that experienced, either. It is just as well. This is not the place for a long drawn out sucking of a cock. I can feel he is on a hair-trigger. I deep throat him and begin to caress him with my throat muscles, a soundless ululation of lust. I massage his heavy balls. When his hips begin to jerk, I pull my mouth back. I want to taste his cum not have it ejaculated straight into my gullet. My mouth fills immediately with his seed. I swallow, knowing I'll have time to savor the taste that lingers on my tongue and teeth. My mouth fills a second and then a third time before his eruption fades. The entire time, his hips have been bucking against my face.

I sit back on my heels. I let his cock slip from my mouth. I wait until his eyes are on me before grasping the head of his cock and squeezing. Several drops of his semen land on my tie. I stand.

"Better hurry up, Mitch. We'll be late." I point to the clock on the wall above the settee. It reads 10:58. We have a section meeting in two minutes. My trousers bulge. He looks panicked as he stuffs his cock and balls back into his underwear and into his pants. He's zipping up as I grab my notebook and pen off my desk.

He points to my tie. I shrug and open the door.

We're the last two to enter the conference room. Section meetings, not departmental meetings are where the work really gets done. As I pull up a seat, Bill points at my tie.

"Stan, you got something on your tie buddy," he announces.

I look down, pretending to be surprised.

"Damn. Yogurt," I tell Bill as I swipe the offending drops off and lick my finger. I can feel Mitch's eyes on the side of my face.

Bill asks what we think of Bob's plan. We sit, silent. After what I deem a reasonable amount of time, I offer that I have concerns. Bill asks what specifically. I tell him. He asks why I didn't say anything at the meeting yesterday or earlier. "I needed more time to work through the problem, didn't want to cause undue alarm," I tell him. I let him ponder that before telling him I think I know a solution. The meeting breaks up. I ask Mitch to meet me in my office in ten. Bill asks me to stay a moment. When we are alone, he asks me for the real reason I didn't speak up. I tell him I think Bob needs to go and he needs to take his place and I think this is likely to result in that, though I want to make sure the company is as protected as possible. He asks who I think should take his position.

"Me, of course," is my reply. I leave him looking thoughtful.

I leave my door open. Mitch taps on the frame and sticks his head in.

"I'd like to work the plan I presented to Bill. Do you have time to come to my place tonight?"

"Sure, boss," he replies. I don't correct him.

---

He does not appear to be surprised when I open the door without any clothes.

I step aside, close the door and look at the ground but do not speak, waiting to see if he understands.

"Suck my cock again," he orders. I hope my downturned head hides my smile.

I unzip his pants and carefully pull his cock out. I'm inordinately happy to see it is only just starting to get hard. I take it in my mouth. I push my nose into the thick mat of hair framed in the brass teeth of his zipper and inhale the rich musk of a cock and hair that has been coated in cum and spit and left to stew most of the day. He gets hard in my mouth, more quickly this time.

"Lick under my hood," he commands and I obey, happily.

I suck him awhile longer.

"You want me to fuck you in the ass, don't you?"

I pull my mouth off his cock.

"Yes, sir."

"Bend over the couch."

"You'll need some lube sir," I tell him. I doubt he'd be willing to lube me with his own spit.

"Get it," he orders. I scramble to my feet and hurry to the bedroom, hurry back, and offer him the bottle, eyes downturned as if he were a god I was offering a sacrifice to.

I obey.

"Spread your ass."

I obey.

"This is what you want isn't it, pussy? You want a man's cock up your ass, don't you?"

"Ye..."

"Shut up. I don't care what you want. I'm going to fuck you. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

I feel cold liquid run down the crack of my ass. He drops the bottle and presses the head of his cock against my asshole. He is not gentle. He pushes. My ass opens and he shoves his cock in deep enough that the metal of his zipper scratches my skin. He fucks me hard and fast. My condo reverberates to the sound of flesh on flesh. The couch begins to skitter across the floor as he slams into my body.

Suddenly, his cock leaves me. One hand grabs my shoulder.

"Turn around," he snaps.

I do. He thrusts his cock toward my mouth. I had hoped for this and was prepared. My ass was as clean as humanly possible. Still, I was about to let this k** shove the cock he'd just had in my ass into my mouth. He doesn't, though. He holds the head in front of my trembling lips and unloads on my face and in my mouth. I manage a few quick sucks on the head before he pulls away.

He stares at me.

"You still want to suck my cock? After that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Jesus," he shakes his head. His face sets. His fingers twist in my hair as he jerks my head forward.

"Suck it then, you cock sucking pussy fag. Suck it."

I do so, happily. There is a slightly bitter undertone to the taste of his cock but no worse than an Indian Pale Ale.

He is half hard by the time he pulls away.

"In the bathroom," he orders. I obey.

"Does sir need to piss?" I ask.

"Yes, sir needs to piss. Open your mouth."

"I'm happy to do as ordered but would sir care to piss in my ass?"

He looks confused.

"Sir's cock is hard enough. Put the head in my ass and piss. If sir wishes, of course."

"Put your fucking hands on the wall then, you fucking whacked out pussy."

I do as instructed. I feel his cock push pass my sphincter. It takes a moment then I feel my bowels fill with his hot piss. I swallow a moan of pleasure. As was the case last night, he pisses forever. I clench my sphincter around his cock, still some of his piss leaks and splatters to the floor.

"Goddamn it," Mitch hollers. "You got it on my shoes." He jerks out and the last of his piss pours over the backs of my legs.

I quickly turn, drop to my hands and knees and begin to lick the toes of his shoes. For the record, I would never lick the bottom of anyone's shoes. Gross!

When I finish, being in the neighborhood and all, I took his cock back in my mouth. Even for a twenty-something, it's a little soon to expect a full recovery. I mouth his soft cock, tugging at the foreskin with my lips, while all the while my guts were cramping under the strain of holding in what feels like a gallon of hot piss. I'm pleased to note he doesn't pull away. He stands, letting me suck and lick his cock.

A particularly intense cramp wracks my gut. I have to pause for a moment. I feel sweat pop out on my forehead.

"You okay?" Mitch's voice is normal, concern. The tone of command is gone.

"Yeah, but I can't hold it much longer," I use the same conversational tone.

"Hold it?" His confusion and naiveté is charming.

"You gave me an enema k**. It was a piss enema but an enema nonetheless," I explain, watching his face for evidence of disgust. I see none.

"You meant you need to take a shit?"

"No. I did that long before you arrived. All I need to do is get rid of the piss you filled my guts with."

He looks at me, his head cocked with the same look I would expect to see if he was examining a new spec sheet.

"So, go already," he says starting to turn away. I guess to give me privacy. I don't need it.

I relax my sphincter. He jumps at the sound of water splashing. There is no stink, just the smell of piss. And there is nothing but water.

"Jesus, Stan, I didn't think you'd do it right here in the fucking shower."

"Is sir displeased?"

"No more sir shit tonight okay? I'm all fucking sir'ed out. Christ."

I climb to my feet. "Sure. Why don't you undress and hop in? I give a helluva shower massage."

He looks so fucking young when he's unsure. It's hard to believe I'm only ten years old than him. I feel closer to forty-two than thirty-two sometimes. Ten years in corporate America can age you, if you survive anyway.

"Stan, I told you dude. I'm not gay."

"Did I say you were? You only get massages from women? I'm offering you a shower and a massage."

"I've never had a massage, from anyone, not a real massage anyway."

"I'll add it to the list. Get undressed. I'll rinse out the shower."

I turn the shower head toward the wall and turn on the water. I hate getting sprayed with cold water. I'll have to add that to my list of possible punishments. As the water warms, I pull the shower head free and rinse off the floor. I try not to stare but it is hard not to as Mitch undresses, carefully folds his clothes, and stacks them on one end of the lavatory counter. I appreciate anew how gorgeous he is. I tell myself to be careful here.

He steps in and I step aside.

"Adjust the water how you like it." When he's satisfied with the water temperature, I ask him to wet his body. As he does, I squirt a dollop of face scrub into one palm.

"Step out of the water and close your eyes Mitch."

He does and, using the fingertips of one hand, begin to wash his face with the scrub. I feel his body relax under my touch. "Keep your eyes closed," I warn and tip his head back so that the warm water flows over his face. I rinse the scrub off my hands, tilt his head from under the water, and wipe his closed eyes gently with my thumbs.

I shampoo his hair, rinse it, and massage conditioner into his hair. I massage his scalp, the back of his neck, and the top of his shoulders as I do. His breathing slows. I rinse the conditioner out and ask him to make sure there is none in his eyes.

As he puts his face under the shower, I get a loofah soapy with shower gel. The scent of sandalwood fills the shower. I turn him and start with his back. I make slow soft circles on his back and work down to his ass, resisting the urge to bury my face in his ass. I do manage to get a brief whiff of his man scent before it's overwhelmed with aroma of sandalwood. I wash his legs and then turn him to face me.

I resist the urge to smell his ass but his pits are too much. I raise his right arm and nuzzle the hair with my nose but all I smell is deodorant. I wash him, spending long minutes on his chest. I set the loofah aside and wash his cock and balls with my sudsy hands, careful not to get soap in his meatus. I use the loofah on his legs and feet. I final rinse and I'm done. His cock had gotten hard beneath my soapy hands. It is still hard.

"I'll dry you in a sec. Let me shower quick okay?" He nods.

I step under the shower and soap up. My cock juts toward the ceiling. When I turn to rinse, Mitch asks, "Is your ass still sore?"

"Yeah, but that was the point. Don't worry about it."

"I really bruised you," I can hardly hear his soft voice over the sound of the shower. "I think you even have a couple of blisters."

I jump a little when his hand touches my ass.

Mitch jumps even more and starts apologizing. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Dude, relax you didn't. I wasn't expecting you to touch me that's all."

I see the question in his eyes and nod. I turn off the shower and put my hands against the wall, ass out. His hands begin to rub across my ass.

"Does that hurt?"

I shake my head. "Not at all, it feels fantastic, actually." I assure him.

"It felt better than I expected, earlier, fucking you in the ass. I didn't expect it to feel that good."

"Why not?"

"I've never done that before, even with a girl."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." I pause. "Do you want to do it again?" I ask, looking at him over my shoulder. His eyes meet mine.

"Yes," he whispers.

"Come on then."

--

We dry off quickly and I lead him to my room.

"Do you mind if I'm on my back this time? I'd like to watch your face while you fuck me."

"Can we do it that way?" He has that confused little boy look on his face again. Damn it.

"Sure, come on I'll show you."

I lie on my back in the bed and stretch to get a small tube of lube out of the bedside table. I thumb open the cap.

"You want me to do it Mitch?"

He stares at me for a moment then holds out his hand. I hand him the tube. He squirts some on his fingers. I pull my knees up to my sides and his fingers begin to rub the lube over my pucker. When he presses, I press back and a finger slips past my sphincter. He rotates his finger in and out a few times before squirting some more of the lube on his cock. He walks on his knees toward me, steadies his cock with his right hand, pushes, and is inside me.

He doesn't ram into me this time. He slides in slowly, stopping to appreciate the sensation. Once he's buried in my ass, he leans his shoulders into my upraised legs.

"See," I tell him. "Just like with a chick."

He shakes his head. "Not really. Your ass feels totally different than any pussy."

I smile at my youthful demi-god. "Fuck me, Mitch. It's okay."

He moves slowly at first but picks up speed. He's already cum twice today. It takes much longer, which is fine with me. I tighten my ass muscles around his cock. His weight gradually pushes my legs toward my chest. His face is very close to mine. I let him decide. This is not something I can push but when he kisses me, I let him. He's too spent for me to feel his cum in my ass but I do feel his cock swell and twitch. He holds his breath, lips still pressed against mine. I ease my legs down. His body lies atop mine. I rub the backs of his shoulders as his cock softens and slips from my ass. I feel a small trickle follow.

At some point, he slides off me and lies along my side and we sleep.

========