by Daryl Banner
And enters me.
“Ben, Ben, Ben …” I let out involuntarily, my eyes shaking, wet, crazed. I thought I’d felt it all; I was horribly wrong. “Oh my God, Ben.”
His lips wet, his mouth all in my ass, he barely pulls away an inch to murmur, “Told you you’d have trouble keeping quiet,” against my ass before darting out his tongue once again, slow and sensual, as it slips right back into my hole, tunneling in.
Everything is so wet down there—his lips, his twirling tongue, his nose. His whole face slides right into my crack with such ease, invading me. My whole ass is slippery from all his relentless and muscular activity down there, working my crack and my hole over with his frustratingly, agonizingly, devilishly skilled tongue. And even if I wanted to squirm, I can’t, because he still grips my legs so powerfully that I can’t move.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I might be able to come like this. I’ve never been so stimulated before that I’m just a second away from being thrown into a full-on rage.
And his tongue keeps probing without end. Ben has started to push his face so deeply into my ass that I’m rocking back and forth, much like I imagine I’d rock if he were actually fucking me.
Well, I guess he sort of is.
With his tongue.
When Ben lets go of my thighs, I think he’s about to rise and do something else to me. But his face never leaves my ass, which is both the best news and the worst torment.
Until his slippery fingers wrap around my swollen hard cock, and I learn the meaning of a whole new torment.
“Ben, I could come, I could come …” I warn him, pushing out the words in tiny tufts of breath, urgently. “C-Careful … I could come …”
Again, he pulls his face away just a fraction of an inch to say, “You aren’t coming until I say, intern.”
Then his hand moves.
A lightning bolt of sensations courses down my whole body, filling me with such instant pleasure that I’m forced to bring a fist to my mouth and bite down to stifle my moan of ecstasy.
“You ever been milked before?” he murmurs against my ass, all his words drifting over the coolness and the wetness of my completely exposed hole and ass cheeks.
“No!” I answer in half a hiss, half a scream muffled by my fist.
“You’re in for a very, very cruel punishment, intern.”
Then his tongue gets right back to work probing my ass.
And his hand slowly strokes my slippery cock. It’s made all the more slippery by my pre-come, which his hand slowly gathers as he strokes the whole length of my throbbing cock from base to tip, base to tip, base to tip—slowly, tortuously, tightly.
The swelling of pleasure between my cock, my sensitive balls, and my exposed asshole that Benjamin is still sensuously plunging his tongue into is quickly becoming too much to take. Something has to come out of me to relieve the insane pressure—Benjamin’s tongue, Benjamin’s hand on my cock, or the cum inside me that threatens to pop the grenades that have become of my balls.
I mean, I’m so fucking ready to come that my balls are pulled up as high as a fraternity pledge’s tighty whities on hazing day.
And isn’t that what this is? My belated hazing to the office by the big bad boss who wants to teach me a lesson? A lesson in getting your cock slowly milked while his tongue is plunged up your pucker like a spelunker on the hunt for the fountain of youth?
The hand that currently fists my cock starts to gain speed and, to my utter delight and horror, starts only jerking the head of my cock, twisting and twirling and massaging.
Now I’m truly going insane.
The inevitable point of no return rushes toward me quickly, regardless of the agonizingly slow pace in which he’s jerking me. The frustration has built up far too strong. I’m grinding my teeth so hard I can taste my brain.
“I’m gonna come,” I warn him in a groan.
His answer comes in the form of pressing his face even deeper into my ass, his tongue reaching an all new depth in my hole, completely penetrating me.
My legs tighten up, threatening to buckle.
My balls squeeze.
My knuckles bleed white as I cling like a rock climber to the desk, part my quivering lips, and cry out my release.
I come hard. And it is endless.
And Ben is merciless, squeezing and twisting his fist at the end—only the end—of my cock as I erupt wave after wave of the come I’ve built up inside.
It doesn’t seem to stop, coming and coming and coming.
And coming.
My body is milked all the worse by Benjamin’s insistence to not pull out of my ass, tonguing me and lapping at my crack while I empty all over the floor, or down the front of the desk, or on Benjamin’s clothes—I have no idea where I spewed all my spunk.
“I’m going to get every last drop out of you,” he promises from between my ass cheeks. “Every. Last. Drop.”
When the waves of orgasm finally recede, I feel like I just came enough to fill the whole damned floor.
And still Benjamin twists and works the head of my cock like a doorknob. It starts to grow too sensitive—way too sensitive.
“B-Ben …” I say, trying to rise off of the desk.
His free hand slaps onto my lower back, shoving me right back down onto the desk. “You will be done,” he murmurs into my ass, “when I say you’re done.”
After just a few seconds of his fist working my hypersensitive cock, I start to squirm—really squirm. But fight as I might, Ben holds me in place with his face buried in my ass, his hand on my back, and his other twisting and jerking my cock.
He won’t let me get free from this post-orgasm torment.
And somehow, I love it. It’s like the orgasm that never ends, even though I’ve stopped coming and the sensation is too much. I squirm against him because whatever he’s doing in my ass still feels so good, despite my growingly desperate need for him to stop stroking my sensitive cockhead.
Then, finally, I feel the sweet reprieve of his face pulling out of my ass and his hand letting go. I only experience a short moment of missing his touch before his hands grip my hips and flip me around to face him. My naked, half-wet, wholly-spent body faces his fully clothed one. He smirks down at me, smug, triumphant, proud of the mess he’s made of me.
As he stares at me, he lifts his hand up to his mouth. My cum hangs from his fingers. I watch as he closes his eyes, slowly brings a finger to his lips, and tastes me. He seems to savor the taste, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile as he slowly licks his hand clean of me, his tongue working in much the same way I imagine it worked on my ass.
“So unsafe,” I mutter.
His eyes flip open. “Oh? You’re calling this unsafe, virgin?”
My face is still flushed from everything we just did, and I am still catching my breath. “Eating the cum off your fingers from a guy you’ve only known for two weeks?”
“Two and a half weeks.”
“And even though I’m a virgin, I still might’ve messed around with guys before,” I point out. “And also—”
He takes a step toward me, his clothed body pressing against my sweaty naked one. “Am I really getting a lecture on safe sex after having my face buried in your tight, wet ass?”
I bite my lip, feeling oddly self-conscious. “I … was just …”
Then, unexpectedly, he pulls me in for a hug. Apparently he’s not afraid of my sweatiness, or my wetness, or any cum that might still be on my cock. He presses me against him, holding me tightly against the cage of his muscular body.
In my ear, he says, “Break time’s over. Get your clothes back on. You have work to do.”
I grin despite myself. He lets me go, and I crouch down to gather my clothes off the floor. When I pull up my underwear, it feels cool to the touch of my body. Having the wetness of all our activity still on me as I dress is strangely erotic to me, like I’m wearing our depravity.
Just as I’m slipping on my tie, he co
mes up to my front and, grabbing the tie out of my grip, starts to put it on for me. I let him, my cheeks warming as I gaze up into his eyes while he slowly, caringly, gently does my tie. When he pulls it through the hoop and draws it up to my neck, his eyes flit to mine and scorch me all over again.
That’s where it all began: in those gorgeous eyes of his.
“Now get back to work,” he tells me, his tone soft and sweet, “and don’t let me see you turning in bad work ever again, intern.”
I bite my lip to suppress a grin. “Yes, sir.”
When I leave his office, I’m surprised to find no curious or suspicious eyes on me. It’s like no one even remembers that I was called to his office. The table is empty when I return to it, so I assume the previous task got completed by Elijah and Ashlee while I was occupied.
You know, occupied being rimmed and milked by my boss.
After all that sensitive milking of my cock, I face a sudden and urgent need to take a leak. Scurrying to the bathroom, I stand at one of the urinals and let loose. There’s nothing quite like a good, strong peeing after such a hard and bodily come. It’s almost better than the relief of orgasm.
Liar, I tease myself, then smile at the wall.
My smile dies a quick death when the bathroom door opens, there’s footsteps, and then Brady appears at the urinal right next to mine.
Thankfully, I’m finished and don’t need to endure any smug or condescending glance from the pompous punk. I flush and go to the sink, washing my hands thoroughly. Brady finishes just as fast and then occupies the sink next to mine.
“Enjoy your lecture in Mr. Gage’s office?” asks Brady.
I turn my face away, roll my eyes, then twist off the sink and go for the paper towels. “Always learning,” I answer smugly. And quite a “lecture” it was, if he only knew. The thought makes me grin.
He joins me at the paper towels, drying his hands. “Nice tie.”
“Thanks.”
“Wasn’t it a loose Kelvin knot this morning?”
I freeze, my grin crumbling, and then I face him. “What?”
Brady studies me skeptically for a second, an air of feigned calmness and innocence in his eyes, then he shrugs. “Perhaps I got it wrong and your tie was always knotted in such a clean, crisp Full Windsor.” Then he tosses his crumpled up paper at the trash and eyes me again, coolly. “Good day, Trevor.”
The door swishes softly on his way out. I turn to myself in the mirror, a hand going up to my tie. Is it sad that I don’t know what either knot looks like?
Should I be worried? I tighten my jaw. Fuck no. Brady’s got nothing on you. Screw that self-satisfied sack of perfect hair.
With a jolt of confidence I likely don’t deserve, I push out of the bathroom and hunt for a free computer, figuring I can jump in on some of the daily work we’re always assigned. I find a computer right next to Elijah, who looks up at me with a sheepish, worried expression.
He gives my shoulder a rub. “You alright, buddy?”
I sit down and give the mouse a shake, waking the computer up. “I’m fine, Elijah. Thanks for asking.”
“I’m gonna get you so wasted this coming weekend for your birthday. I mean, twenty-one? It’s nothing to take lightly.”
I shrug, not having given my upcoming birthday even a speck of thought. “It’s just a birthday. I don’t like drinking, anyway. It’s really not a big deal.”
He studies me for a second, then lowers his voice. “It’s the boss, isn’t it?”
I turn to him, alarm in my eyes. “Who? What?”
Elijah puts a consoling hand on my shoulder and gives it a hearty squeeze. “The boss was mad at you for that botched report, huh? Got on your ass for your mistake?”
On my ass. In my ass. I experience an inner jolt of excitement, my asshole puckering as if reliving what just happened to me minutes ago in that office. “H-He did.”
“He gave you a really bad scolding, huh?”
I bite my lip and blush. “The worst.”
31
Benjamin prepares a surprise.
By Thursday, all the plans are in place. I step out of my office and lean against the door, surveying my employees as they go about finishing up their work.
My eye fishes Trevor right out of the crowd. He’s near the break room speaking with his roommate Elijah. I watch him for some time, feeling a sense of pride swelling within me.
I pull out my phone and tap a message to him, then hit send. I look back up and watch him some more.
Trevor’s hand goes to his pocket, but he doesn’t remove his phone; he simply continues talking to Elijah, smiling emptily, but I see that his eyes are glossed over, distracted by the text he surely knows is from me.
I don’t know why that amuses me so much, but it does. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I tell him my plans.
Finally, he gives his friend a nod, then slips into the break room. All I see is his backside when he finally pulls out his phone and takes a look. He just stands there for the longest time, which makes me so impatient that I start shifting my weight from leg to leg like a dog waiting to be let out.
After waiting precisely five seconds too long, he only pockets his phone with a short sigh, then disappears into the break room.
I narrow my eyes.
That boy isn’t going to ignore me.
Deciding for some bullshit reason that I totally need to go and check the employee fridge for a yogurt I know isn’t there, I stroll through the office and right into the break room. He’s alone at the counter stirring a cup of coffee with a tiny straw.
He looks up from his cup, and his eyes flash.
“Trevor,” I mutter for a greeting that any boss would give any of his or her employees, then go for the fridge, turning my back on him. I poke through its contents in search for nothing at all.
“Mr. Gage,” he returns to my back.
I draw a long, even breath. “Thought you didn’t like coffee?”
“You can say I’ve acquired a taste.”
I slap shut the fridge, then come up right next to him at the counter—my elbow brushing along his—and reach into one of the cabinets for a mug I totally don’t need. “You’re defying me again.”
“Defying you?”
“That shirt is much too tight,” I warn him, “as are those pants, which are showcasing your cute ass far too perfectly.”
“Oh, we’re doing this again?” he sasses.
For that, I ought to give him a swift smack on that cute butt of his, but I refrain. After all, I’m not just some big horny wildebeest. I’m a gentleman.
And a big horny wildebeest. “With as much cream as you’re putting in that cup there, you’ll be drinking milk before you taste any damned coffee.”
He stiffens up. Then, in a voice that’s hardly there, he replies, “Better than the taste you’ve recently acquired: that of my milk.”
I choke on a laugh as I bring a mug to the counter, then pour my own helping of coffee. “Touché. You get my message?”
“Sure did.”
“And?”
“And no, I’m not free for the weekend,” he whispers so quietly, I have to lean in to catch all his words, “as my totally needy roommate wants to take me out for my first legal drink.”
I fetch one packet of sweetener and flick it twice. “You mean to tell me you’re going to say no to your boss?”
“Yes.” He shakes his head suddenly. “I mean no. I mean, yes, I’m saying no.”
“Do I really fluster you that much?”
He smirks at me. “Discretion,” he hisses at me. “Discretion.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I lean my back against the counter and bring the mug to my lips to give it a little blow. “That’s precisely the reason I want you all to myself this weekend. Discretion.”
“M-Mr. Gage …”
His insistence on formalities in the workplace is so fucking hot to me. “You’re going to cancel your plans with Elijah. Come up with a clever little ali
bi, I know you can do it. Then get on my jet.”
Trevor’s eyes go wide. “Your jet? Again? What exactly is this ‘plan’ of yours?”
“Do you have a passport?”
The question knocks him in the chest. He can’t even answer me, his mouth parted and his cup of coffee hanging so loose in his grip, he might drop it.
“Yes or no?” I prompt him.
“Yes,” he finally manages to say. “Elijah and I … our families were going to take a trip to Europe last year together. Elijah and I got passports, then the trip was canceled due to funds. As always.”
“Hmm. That’s a pity about Europe. Be at my place after work tomorrow. Bring your passport. It’s all you need.”
Trevor swallows hard. He still hasn’t taken a single sip of his cup of cream-we’ll-call-coffee. To be fair, I haven’t taken a sip of mine, either. “But … B-But I’d need to pack a bag …”
“Nope. I’ve got you covered. I’ll take care of everything. Your clothes, toiletries, and whatever else you may need.” I give him a nudge with my elbow and a swat on the ass so swiftly, he jumps a foot in the air in surprise. “You’re all mine this weekend, Trevor. I’m going to give my favorite intern the birthday getaway that he deserves. Got it?”
Trevor’s little eyes are hollowed out with a perfect cocktail of excitement and fear dancing in them. That’s precisely the reaction I was going for. I love making his adorably bright eyes shrink.
And other things grow.
I wink at him, then push myself away from the counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work,” I throw over my shoulder as I strut out of the break room, mug in my hand, and way too proud of myself for my own good.
32
Trevor pencils in a little vacay.
“But I was gonna get you wasted!” Elijah protests as he puts on his tie. “I even planned out a beverage and bar-hop itinerary!”
“Sorry,” I tell him with a sigh, “but you know how my mom is. She’s got this whole family weekend thing she wants to do for me. Dad’s in on it, too, with me turning twenty-one and all.”
“And I can’t come?”
“No. Sorry, buddy. It’s a family-only thing.”