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Business Trip Straight Deal June 2024 It was 6:45am when Mark arrived at the office. Though already awake for over an hour, his mind was still in a foggy slumber. Mark had a habit of spending most of his late nights jerking off. He’d stop-and-go for hours until finally, the pressure so intense, he’d catapult a creamy load over his head, and if lucky enough, right on his face. Last night was no exception, so this morning, dick drained, and sleep-deprived, he struggled with the mere thought of the day ahead. Sipping coffee desperately, he leaned against the building awaiting the arrival of his traveling companion -- the only positive element of the long day ahead. Damon, a six-foot-two, muscular stud, relocated from New York City to North Carolina, was the star of most of Mark’s late-night sessions. His thick, dark-brown, wavy hair always looked best unkempt, a result of a rough night at the bars, and most likely a romp with a lady or two. His eyes were dark and deep, and usually glistened with confidence and charm. While in his late-thirties, Damon managed to preserve his boyish charm and smooth features. His God-like towering body, Mark concluded, resembled an Italian version of Ken Ryker. Many-a-nights were spent imagining the stud shared other significant traits with the legendary porn-star. Still awaiting Damon’s arrival, Mark’s waking tool stirred in his pants. Mark and Damon worked together in the Sales and Marketing profession. One fringe benefits of the job was a membership at the company fitness center. Whenever Mark caught Damon working out clad in a tank top, running shorts and New Balance sneakers (an estimated size 11), he would rush to the bathroom, jump into the first empty stall to pleasure himself frantically, fanaticizing of his buff associate joining him. Returning back to the gym with the taste of his own man spunk lingering on his tongue (imagining it was Damon’s, of course), he would often notice a goofy smirk swiped across his fantasy’s face, as if he knew exactly what went on in the bathroom just moments ago. Hard-on raging, and no sign of the stallion’s arrival, Mark entertained himself outside his office, flexing his cock in the tight confines of his briefs. Before shooting off a load and creating a whole other mess to deal with, he reached for his cell phone and Damon’s number. Their nine o’clock appointment was two hours away and at this rate they were going to be at least fifteen minutes late. Just as he started dialing, Damon sped into the parking lot, and screeched to a halt, only feet away from Mark, and even closer to the bulge in his pants. Thick with a New York accent, Damon called to Mark, “C’mon buddy, let’s get outta here!” Mark tossed his brief case in the backseat, and took position as co-pilot next to the half-dressed man. A full day’s growth spouted across his handsome face, and his shirt was completely unbuttoned, displaying a snug, ribbed tank top and incredible pumped-up pecks. His pants were on, but the zipper remained wide-open. It took every bit of self-control for Mark not to stare. Even if Damon did catch him checking out the goods, he wouldn’t care because this time, the stud brought it on himself. * * * “Out” at work, Mark never felt obligated to keep his sexuality a secret, and most everybody was totally accepting, as far as he knew or cared. The only person that ever gave him a hard time was Damon. The big guy didn’t have a problem with it, but he sure did enjoy cracking jokes. Whenever the opportunity arose, Damon’s wit would kick in with a goofy one-liner about homos. Mark always took it in good spirit, partly because it didn’t bother him, but mostly in the hopes that the wisecracks represented a hint of gay tendencies floating around somewhere in the deepest depths of the strapping straight-boy. * * * As they entered the freeway, Damon started tucking and zipping as he drove. He greeted Mark with a warm, gentle pat on the back of his head. “Had a little accident there, eh buddy?” Grinning, he motioned toward a wet stain in Mark’s lap. Anxious from the contact, the passenger swallowed hard; his mouth was dry and his entire body was tense as a cockring. “Spilled coffee. Where the hell have you been, anyway? “You waitin’ long, big guy?” He actually sounded concerned. Giving in too easily, Mark answered, “No, not too long. I just want to make it to this damn meeting and get it over with.” As Mark bitched, Damon began to fix himself up in business attire. Mark couldn’t help be distracted by the driver’s large hands as they tucked the shirttails deep into his pants. At one point Damon asked Mark to reach behind his seat for his electric razor. Searching through his duffle bag, Mark discovered the shorts and tank top he saw Damon wearing at the gym the day before – and they were still damp with sweat. As if it couldn’t get any better, tangled inside the stud’s shorts was a moist jockstrap. This was one responsibility Mark was glad to take on. Oh, what he would do for the opportunity to sniff and taste the musky flavor of Damon’s shorts! Finally, taking control of himself, he handed Damon the razor, while suggesting, “Why bother? You wear the scruffy look well. This guy’s a done deal, anyway.” Damon smiled that big shit-eating grin he was so famous for and replied, “You like the rough look, eh? You like it as much as you like my sweaty shorts, ya little horn-dog?” Caught, again! Mark turned bright red and a guilty, yet playful smile lit his face. Without ever flicking it to the “ON” position, Damon tossed the electric razor over his shoulder, where it bounced off the backseat onto the floor. Mark smiled with satisfaction. * * * Even compared to a hot guy like Damon, Mark definitely held his own. Mediterranean genetics blessed him with dark hair and eyes along with a natural olive complexion. With a slight receding hairline, he keeps it short, while sporting a patch of hair on his chin and sideburns stretching toward his thick neck. His wide, and often, flirtatious smile sparks a fire in his eyes laced with an eroticism that would set any North Carolina conservative aflame. Standing at 5’9” and 160 pounds, his medium build is not quite the rugged statue Damon has achieved, but his six-pack abs make-up for lack in size. Actually, in perspective, his 7 ½-incher appeared even larger considering his modest build. Mark’s finest feature, though, according to so many men (and women, too), is his incredibly fine ass. * * * As Damon and Mark ventured down the road toward their important sales meeting, the little bit of conversation that began the ride eventually subsided into blaring guitar-licks from Damon’s CD player. Every now and then, Mark would glance over at his colleague, uncontrollably, just to catch an inspiring eye-full. One time during the journey, he caught Damon adjusting his bulging package. Quickly turning away, Mark battled with temptation, but failed to control the swelling in his pants. They were only ten minutes late for the meeting, and had to wait on the client for an extra twenty. After a long drive, both Mark and Damon felt a dire urge to take a leak. Mark stood at the urinal all the way to the end of the public restroom; Damon unzipped two down from him. No words exchanged, only the hypnotic stream of Damon’s hot juice flowing from his cock into the pool of water. Mark was extremely pee-shy, especially around men like Damon, so his urinal remained silent. Both men stared directly into the wall, only until Mark discovered the shiny bathroom tile. Attempting discretion, his eyes traveled the tile along the wall toward Damon. To his extreme satisfaction, for the first time since working together, Mark finally caught a glimpse of the stud’s dick in the reflection; though a quick flash, it was the most beautiful, long, thick cock he had ever seen. Never really getting enough, but afraid of being caught, he struggled to look away. With a few shakes and the scrub of his hands, Damon exited the bathroom. The second the door slammed shut, a gushing stream echoed from Mark’s urinal as he held his raging cock, and breathed a sigh of relief. The meeting couldn’t end soon enough. Throughout the entire conference, Mark could not, for the life of him, take his mind off what he just spotted in the bathroom. During the hour and a half Mark’s paranoia got the best of him. He was certain that Damon kept staring at him with that devilish grin. Beads of sweat rolled down the condemned man’s back as he awkwardly smiled in return. Finally, meeting adjourned, the two sales executives shook the client’s hand, and fled from the building toward the car. Damon dashed out of the parking lot so fast, referring to the client just departed as, “that son-of-a-bitch.” Mark just nodded and stared out the window, his mind frozen in admiration. “What’s your problem?” Damon asked, in response to Mark’s silence. “Nothing.” Damon looked at him suspiciously and Mark continued to defend himself, “What? Nothin’s wrong. Changing the topic, Damon asked, “You hungry?” You bet I am you stud, but instead Mark replied, “Yeah, I guess.” Within ten minutes, Damon and Mark sat side-by-side in a dim and shady bar. It wasn’t even noon, but with work done for the day, both men sipped on ice-cold draughts. Lifting his beer into the air, Damon commanded, “Don’t go trying to take advantage of me just ‘cause I’ve had a few, got it, twinkle-toes?” At least someone found humor in the joke, because upon the words flowing from his lips, he burst into laughter. The only response Mark could muster was, “Yeah, right.” Then, confirming Mark’s suspicion, Damon went in for the kill, “I saw you checking me out in the bathroom earlier.” Convicted once again, Mark sheepishly replied, “Whatever.” Grabbing the bulge in his pants, the proud stud declared, “Yeah, well, that’s for the ladies, you fruitcake, got it?” Assured that he was just joking, Mark snickered, “my eleven-year-old sister wouldn’t be satisfied with that little ol’ thing.” Damon, still in the game, replied, “Yeah, well, I bet your mother would.” A weak attempt at a comeback, but Mark laughed anyway. Damon bought lunch. Grateful, more so for the opportunity to strike back than for the free meal, Mark jeered, “Don’t expect to get in my pants just ‘cause you bought me lunch, ya ol’ closet-case.” Damon chuckled, “You wish, buddy.” They both laughed as they headed home. About an hour into the ride, Damon announced that he needed to take another piss. Still playing the comedian, Mark picked up an empty soda container from the floor of the car and offered it up. “Piss in this.” To his surprise, Damon replied, “Alright. You hold it.” Mark laughed, nervously blowing off the joke, but to his total and complete bewilderment, Damon began unzipping his pants. Mark, now totally awkward and incredible excited by the blood rushing from his head to his dick, continued giggling at the thought, “Yeah, right.” Continuing to whip out his dick, Damon confirmed, “Serious. Hold the bottle, and I’ll let it flow.” Not believing for a second that Damon would follow through, Mark immediately thought of the perfect proposition. “Alright. I’ll hold it for you, if I can suck you off afterward.” Intrigued, Damon, once again, shocked the shit out of Mark and answered, “You got it.” Still doubtful of his sincerity, Mark added the fine print to the deal, “and you gotta shoot off and let me swallow your load.” With a wink, Damon agreed, “No problem. I’d have it no other way, my friend.” The deal sealed, with one hand on the wheel, Damon used his free hand to unleash his stiffening cock from the trap of his zipper. Mark, nervous and completely aroused, held the bottle to the hole, and within a split-second, Damon filled it to the top, with more to come. Fortunately, Damon had another bottle on hand, so with one rapid motion, Mark switched them out, only spilling a single drop on the seat between Damon’s legs. Final drops squeezed out, Mark placed the bottles in the cup holder, then, expecting his companion to back out of the deal, looked into Damon’s eyes, only to discover a look of anticipation and passionate desperation. Damon had already unbuttoned his shirt revealing his pumped muscles bursting through the white ribbed tank. Still driving, he wiggled out of the garment and tossed it in the backseat. As his eyes examined his fantasy’s impressive build, Mark was thrilled to discover the monster cock he saw just a couple hours ago had grown rock hard, and in even more mammoth proportions. Mark’s curiosity of Damon and Ken’s similarities was now a proven fact. Within seconds, the throbbing tool was jamming the back of Mark’s eager throat. For a straight guy, Damon sure did love Mark’s lips and tongue working him over. His low, rough groans began to drown out the tunes still blaring from the speakers. As Damon took the driver’s massive rod as deep as he thought possible, he felt it stretch even deeper, choking him to tears. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the challenge of such a huge cock in his throat or if he was overcome with pure ecstasy and a sense of satisfaction for achieving a dream-come-true. Mark’s choking subsided and Damon grasped the back of his boy’s head, encouraging him along. As miles past, Mark stroked his own bulging cock through his pre-cum soaked briefs. Not wanting to offend his straight boy, he kept his hard-on hidden. Granted, he was sucking him off, he still respected Damon’s “status,” and didn’t want to ruin the moment. Anyway, he liked how it felt when his own cock stretched against the moist, creamy, restricting material. In mid stroke, and to Mark’s astonishment, Damon reached down between his colleague’s legs and took control of the cocksucker’s dick. Mark was shocked and his sucking grew more aggressive, as did Damon’s moaning. Then, as if it couldn’t get anymore intense, Damon started uttering words between moans. “Yeah, man, suck that big cock… You like that, don’tchya buddy?” Mark lost all control. As he was being stroked off through his shorts, he shot the thickest load of his life. Cum soaked through the cotton material onto Damon’s strong hands. When the driver presented his cum-soaked fingers to Mark’s mouth, the cocksucker licked them clean almost as passionately as he swallowed the monstrous piece of man-meat. The thought of his hot spit mixing with his own sweet jizz, lubing up the gorgeous cock of his horny co-worker prolonged his hard-on to rage in the confines of his slick underwear. Damon’s moaning grew and his coaching intensified. As the car seemed to speed up, Mark heard Damon’s warning strain from his lips, “I’m gonna shoot, man. Yeah, you want to taste my load, buddy? C’mon Mark, make me cum down your throat.” Shot after shot exploded from his rock-hard cock. Mark sucked it ferociously, jamming it as far down his throat as he could, causing more frantic moaning and more gushing cum. Each and every blast of jizz filled Mark’s mouth without spilling a drop. “Yeah, man… swallow that load.” As he licked up the last few drops from Damon’s shaft, Mark’s pulsating man-meat erupted again, into his already drenched cotton briefs. Lifting his head from Damon’s lap, his buddy gasped, short of breath, “You gay guys sure can suck a good dick. That was one incredible blowjob. We’ll have to do that again, sometime. “Definitely,” Mark agreed. With a wink, Damon exclaimed, “Maybe next time you’ll let me have a piece of that fine ass of yours.” Mark served up a teasing, but agreeable smile in response to the special request, and inquired, “don’t we have an overnighter coming up?” Damon grinned. “You bet, buddy.” Damon’s drained cock still dangling from his pants, and Mark’s briefs soaked with cum, the two Marketing Executives continued down the road toward home, completely satisfied after closing two major deals. |
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