by Oliver Jennings
A couple of years ago, I had to spend a few days at Bradley Stoke, just outside Bristol, to attend an IT development conference with a couple of other guys from my company. Someone way up high at head office in London had thought it might be a good idea to have a few people go along to it, just to see if anything significant might be said in any of the talks, and my name – somehow – was chosen to be one of them.
“Chances are, it’ll be a waste of time,” I remember saying to Michael Adams, one of the other people to have been volunteered as an attendee.
He smiled and shrugged. “Maybe. But it’ll be a few days away from the same old same old… that’s gotta be good…”
I was going to whinge a little more but reminded myself that Michael was, while in a totally different department to me, quite a few rungs of the ladder my superior. I thought it best, at least for the time being, to be more guarded and so I just smiled back and nodded. Like it was no big deal.
He went on, “I must say I don’t much like losing a couple of evenings out of my week, but… you never know… the three of us guys might have a laugh together…”
“Yeah, I was meaning to ask about that – who’s the third person?” I hoped it might be someone I knew.
“Wesley Simmons from sales…”
I shook my head. “Don’t think I know him…”
Michael nodded. “He’s pretty new, actually. Just out of school…”
“How’d he end up having to go out on a residential so soon?” I asked. Normally office juniors, which I assumed he must be since he was so young, wouldn’t be expected to attend conferences.
Michael shrugged. “For some reason, he volunteered himself… he’s kind of, ah…” He searched for the right word. “Keen…”
“Oh.” Already he sounded irritating.
Michael smiled a little, perhaps covertly sharing my aversion to promising young go-getters, and went on, “You’ve probably seen him around… he’s a guy who likes to…” Again he tried to think of a favourable way to put it. “Knock on doors.”
I was a little confused. “Knock on doors?”
“Yeah…” Michael’s smile was becoming broader. “He’s a career guy – on some fast-track programme or something – trying to work his way to the top. So he knocks on doors and introduces himself to people. Tries to get his name remembered.”
He didn’t just sound irritating. He sounded repellent.
I didn’t tell Michael how I felt, although I’m sure my face expressed it for me, because, like I said, the guy was a lot closer to management than I was. He seemed okay but you don’t get to be so high up in finance without playing the game a little.
So I thought I ought to play it too.
I said, neutrally, “No… I don’t know him…”
Michael grinned mischievously. “You soon will… intimately…”
I guess I must have stared at him, looking puzzled.
He continued, “The three of us are sharing a room…” He saw my expression turn to shock and his turned to surprise. He said, “You knew that, didn’t you?”
“It’s some cost-cutting thing. An economy drive. Everyone had a memo about it last year…”
“Yeah… all same-sex groups on residentials are expected to share rooms. You don’t have to, of course, but… well… everyone’s doing it, right up to the MD…”
I shrugged. “Yeah… okay… whatever… I just hadn’t heard…” I hadn’t been reading my memos more like.
Michael smiled and said, “Like I said… it’ll be a laugh… I’ve been on a couple of courses and stuff, sharing rooms with other guys, and it’s usually okay…”
I smiled back. “Yeah… I’ve no problem with it…” And, on the surface of it, I didn’t have a problem with it. I’d shared rooms with other guys – many of whom I hadn’t known – countless times, in youth hostels up and down the country, for the sake of rugby. Both as a player and a spectator. So sharing a room wasn’t an issue.
I was just surprised at the prospect of having to do it in a work-related context. If you get back late and vomit over the floor in a youth hostel with a crowd of other rugby fans, it’s kind of okay. Well – actually – it’s pretty much expected of you! But anything embarrassing that happened among workmates I hardly knew could have long-term consequences.
I’d just have to be on my best behaviour for a couple of days. I suppose it was the prospect of that which was shocking to me.
Anyway, I didn’t see Michael again until he picked me up to give me a lift up to Bristol. Wesley was with him, refusing to budge from the front seat of the car, and I saw, pretty instantly, that the dislike of him – which I’d tried to forget about until I’d had the chance to meet the lad properly – had been well-founded. He was only eighteen or nineteen but gave off this air of self-assuredness that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to master no matter what age I reach. He fawned over Michael like the guy was some all-seeing all-knowing company guru, but virtually ignored me.
A mere menial like me, some middle-ranking nonentity from HR, couldn’t offer him promotion. But Michael could. And that seemed to make Michael a demi-god.
Wesley laughed at just about everything Michael said, regardless of any humour content to it, and went on about how wonderful Michael’s suit was, his car was, his liking of Thai food was… you get the picture.
I was sitting in the back thinking how patently transparent Wesley was being – all this hollow praise for a guy he’d hardly met but who could, as it happened, influence his career. Michael, on the other hand, seemed to lap it up. He acted like Wesley was being genuinely complimentary; that any ulterior motives were so cleverly and subtly concealed as to be unnoticeable. I figured he must either be being especially polite or else was so used to this kind of thing from ambitious young office juniors that it just washed over him.
At one point, midway through Wesley being gushingly impressed by descriptions of Michael’s Mexican furniture, Wesley’s mobile phone rang. He looked at the display and said, “Oh, it can wait. It’s Paula…”
Michael asked, “Paula?”
Wesley shrugged. “My girlfriend… she can wait…”
Michael chuckled, “Answer it… go on…”
Wesley switched the phone off. “No. I’ll get it later…”
Michael grinned over at him, momentarily taking his eyes from the motorway. “You want a bit more privacy when you chat to Paula, huh?”
Wesley smiled and said, “You’ve worked me out, Michael. Time and a place and all that…”
I grinned, staring out of the window at the fields and farms we were passing, thinking, “Oh, very convincing, Wesley mate. So, even your girlfriend comes second to your career, does she?”
That evening, after we’d signed in as members of the conference and found our lodgings, we went out for a meal. I considered ducking out and leaving Wesley to have Michael all to himself, but I was hungry and the place we were staying seemed to be in the middle of an industrial park. So I thought I better tag along.
Wesley led the conversation at all times, guiding it this way and that to cover all things relating to Michael, while I just sat there feeling like a lemon. I found myself staring at Wesley and thinking, after most of the fawning things he came out with, “For Christ’s sake…” or “You little wanker…” But occasionally he’d come out with something so ridiculously and patently sycophantic that I’d be too stunned to even respond mentally.
One example of this was when Michael asked Wesley about his plans with Paula.
Wesley smiled warmly at the thought of her and for a second looked almost human. But then he came out with, “We’re getting a place together. Maybe you and your wife could come over one evening and we’ll throw a Thai dinner party… I’m sure Paula would get on really well with your wife…”
I just peered at him, eyes wide like a goldfish.
Michael smiled and, after a few seconds stalling, moved the conversation on.
It was about ten thirty, still in the restaurant and on our fourth bottle of wine, when Michael asked Wesley, “How would you feel about a transfer to London? I heard there’s a space coming up in the regional admin section…”
Wesley looked orgasmic for a second before managing to recompose himself.
He gapsed, “What position?”
Michael shrugged. “I dunno exactly… I just know that the guy leaving is a couple of grades above you…”
Wesley looked very pensive for a few moments and then said, with a rather silly sounding giggle, “Sounds interesting…”
Michael said, “Would it be worth me putting your name forward?”
Wesley feigned a look of surprise. “You’d do that?”
Michael nodded. “You seem the right kind of guy for the position. Dynamic… astute… forthright…”
I nearly choked on my wine, assuming that Michael must be winding us both up, but then realised he was being serious. I managed to stifle my outburst to a few quiet coughs, thinking that Wesley must have had a more convincing effect on him than he’d had on me.
Wesley ignored my splutterings and kept peering at Michael. He giggled again, “Wow… thanks…”
Michael went on, a little uncomfortably, “Of course… I could always put in a formal recommendation… that would carry a lot more clout…”
Wesley stared at him, nodding slightly. “Yeah…?”
Michael nodded. “An interview would, in that case, be just a formality. The position would be virtually guaranteed…”
There was silence for a few seconds and then Wesley asked, “And would you do that?”
Michael considered the possibility. He looked like he was deep in thought. It seemed unlikely to me that he would be thinking about whether or not to recommend Wesley for the London job – after all, he’d only known the lad for a few hours. I wondered whether there was more to his ponderings than that.
After a few seconds of reverie, Michael seemed to almost shake himself back to reality and laughed, “Hey, we’re boring Ollie… we can talk about this another time… we’ve plenty of opportunities…”
Wesley threw me a look as if to say, “Why are you still here?” But it was gone almost instantly and he nodded his acceptance brightly, muttering to Michael, “Yeah… whatever… we’ve loads of time…”
Then Michael said something that struck me – still strikes me – as rather odd. He turned to me and said, “Hey, Ollie… don’t look now, he’s coming back over to our table… but do you think that waiter – the one with the red bow tie – is coming onto me?”
I turned to glance up at him as he appeared at our side, offering us yet another bottle of wine. I noticed that he seemed slightly friendlier and more chatty towards Michael, but his interest seemed well within the bounds of professional conduct.
When he’d gone, I shook my head. “He might be semi-interested, mate, but he’s not exactly throwing himself at you…”
Michael feigned a look of being bitterly disappointed. “Damn! I’m losing my touch! Thought my luck was in, there…”
I laughed, though not quite sure exactly what it was I was laughing at, but Wesley just stared at him, a look of intrigue across his face. He said, “You’re not serious…”
Michael shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’d picked up a waiter…”
Wesley looked incredulous. “But you’re married… you’re joking, right?”
Michael shrugged again, laughing slightly like this was the most normal thing in the world and Wesley was being particularly slow on the uptake. “Yeah, I’m married. But I can screw guys too…”
He threw me a look as if to say, “Where did they dig this guy up from?” Then he laughed and, I guess to piss Wesley off more than anything else, I returned the same look and laughed back.
Michael added, “It’s not like I’d be cheating on Wendy… it’s not like it would mean anything. It’d just be a bit of fun between two guys…”
Wesley looked at me and, while his eyes were averted, I saw Michael stare at him intently, scanning the lad’s face as if he was looking for some sign that Wesley might be amenable to this idea. Until that moment I hadn’t really understood where Michael was heading. I’d thought that maybe he was playing a joke on Wesley and bringing me in on it, or that he was just trying to shock the guy. But then I realised that Wesley wasn’t the only one with ulterior motives; in fact, that Wesley’s ulterior motives were still in kindergarten in comparison with Michael’s vastly more advanced collection.
Wesley looked back at him and Michael smiled innocently, taking a few swigs from his wine glass. Michael said, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin, “You must have played around with other lads sometimes… you must know that it’s just a bit of fun…”
Wesley looked cautiously towards me again, perhaps suspecting a trap; that Michael was, for whatever reason, trying to get him to admitting to playing around with other boys. Or maybe Wesley was unsure of how to respond: maybe he’d never done that kind of thing. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d venture from the straight and narrow, even in a guilt-ridden five minutes behind the school bike sheds, unless his precious career could benefit from it.
Michael turned to me again, and said, laughing, “You must have done that kind of thing, Ollie… I mean, you can’t tell me I’m the only guy who ever joined in with a circle jerk and stuff…”
I shrugged. This wasn’t my concern so I could be honest. “Yeah… I’ve played around sometimes. Girls are my thing, I must say, but I’ve had some good times with other guys from time to time…”
Michael beamed at me, his eyes warm and intense. I thought maybe I should take the opportunity to suggest myself for promotion at that moment, except that I wasn’t particularly looking for one right then.
He said, “And the waiter…? Would you go for him?”
I shook my head, grinning at Michael. “His arse is too flat… a guy’s gotta have a fuckable arse…”
Wesley looked shocked at what I’d said and Michael stared at me, wide-eyed and mouth agape. I thought for a second that I’d gone too far.
But then Michael roared with laughter and slapped my shoulder, agreeing heartily with what I’d said. “Yeah.. yeah… that’s exactly it… it’s gotta be just right….”
He turned to Wesley and explained, “I mean, if it’s a woman, there’s an emotional dimension to it, so the physical side isn’t so important. But if it’s a guy, well – like Ollie said – it’s a purely sexual thing… the physical side is crucial…”
Michael turned back to me and slapped my shoulder again, nodding and grinning at me. I wasn’t sure that I had actually said what he seemed to think I had, but I smiled back and shrugged.
He turned back to Wesley and said, “A guy’s gotta look right, Wesley…”
Wesley seemed like he was out of his depth. He clearly wasn’t sure if this was joke or if it was serious. I suspect the wider implications hadn’t yet dawned on him.
He muttered to Michael, “He has to have a… how did you put it… a fuckable arse?”
Michael grinned broadly and nodded. “Yeah… it’s got to be fuckable… eh, Ollie?”
Wesley asked, “And what makes a guy’s arse… fuckable?”
Michael stared at him. “You know when you see one, mate… it’s round and firm and… well… fuckable… there’s no better word…”
Wesley looked around the restaurant, obviously confused by this but trying to act like he was okay with it. He asked, “You mean like that other waiter’s arse, the one standing near the kitchen doors…?”
Michael shook his head. “Naah… I wouldn’t touch his with a ten foot pole, mate. I mean round and hard and… you know… something a bit more like yours, Wesley…”
Wesley turned back to him and looked even more surprised. “Mine? I’ve got a fuckable arse?”
Michael nodded and grinned. “Oh yeah. Well fuckable.”
Wesley’s look of surprise changed into a look of horror. I think at that moment he finally realised what the deal was going to be and that fawning compliments and adulation were not going to be enough.
He nodded slowly and said, almost under his breath, “Okay…”
Then the two of them fell into silence and I thought I ought to break things up, at least for the moment, by suggesting we get the bill.
As he was signing the cheque, Michael muttered distractedly, “Anyway, about that London job… I’ll keep you in mind for it Wesley… we’ll see how things go over the next couple of days but I reckon a recommendation could easily be yours…”
I looked at Wesley and he looked at me. I smiled pleasantly, like I hadn’t a clue about what was going on between the two of them, but he was too wound up in his own thoughts to return it.
Nothing much happened until we got back to our room. Chat in the taxi revolved around the sights and sounds of London with Michael repeatedly hammering home the point that it would be great to live there.
At one point, I asked, with a smile of apparent concern on my face, “What about your girlfriend, Wesley? Would she be okay about moving up to London?”
Michael went quiet at that point; he was interested in hearing the answer to this one.
Wesley shrugged. “It’s not that serious. She might want to move up with me, if I got the job, or she might want to do her own thing. It’s not a big deal to me…”
I almost asked, again pleasantly and innocently, “Not serious…? But I thought the two of you were planning dinner parties…?” But I thought that would sound too sarcastic and so just nodded and kept quiet after that.
I heard Wesley talking to Michael about the London job in the bathroom while they were brushing their teeth and taking a piss and stuff. I was in bed by then, feeling a little sorry for Wesley – even though I still thought he was an irritating arrogant prick – for the simple fact that something he dearly wanted was almost within his grasp but to reach out would mean taking a step he wasn’t comfortable with.
I was thinking, “Stick with Paula, mate… she tried to call you… she was thinking of you… stick with her and bollocks to Michael and bollocks to the London job…”
But Wesley was hooked like a fish on the end of a line.
There was no stopping him.
I heard him saying, “So do you think you might want to recommend me…?”
And Michael saying, between spitting the froth from his toothpaste out into the sink, “I dunno… we’ll see how things go… over the next couple of days…”
Then Wesley: “I’m very… ahm… versatile…”
And Michael: “That’s good to hear… I just need to see you demonstrate it a little…”
A minute or so of silence, broken only by the sounds of one of them pissing into the toilet bowl.
Wesley: “Thanks for saying I’ve a nice arse, by the way. No-one ever said that to me before…”
Michael: “Yeah, it’s a hot one. Like I said, very fuckable…”
Wesley giggling and then saying: “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it in front of Ollie… he might get freaked out…”
Michael: “Naah… you heard how cool he was about the idea of guys getting together… I think we could go a lot further, if you wanted to, Wesley, and he’d still be okay with it…”
Then silence again.
They came out of the bathroom, still quiet with one another, and I turned over in bed so that I could see what was going on between them. This was getting very interesting…
Michael was wearing only a pair of white briefs which bulged at the front in a way that, had I been a virgin to gay sex, I’d have found very intimidating. I thought, “You ain’t doing yourself any favours there, mate…” I had to admit, though, that apart from that – admittedly fairly prominent – shortcoming, Michael looked very appealing. I knew he played squash and worked out at the company gym twice a week, and it certainly showed. He wasn’t what you might call classically athletic, but his chest was firm and well-developed and his forearms and thighs were thick and muscular. For a guy in his early thirties, which I’d guess his age to be, he was extremely well-toned.
I was thinking, “Well, if Wesley passes you up on your offer, I’ll step in, mate…” I didn’t want the London job, but the rest of the deal looked very attractive.
Wesley was wearing a pair of jogging bottoms and a sports shirt. He was thin and looked as if what was underneath might be quite pleasant on the eye. The jogging bottoms flashed occasional hints of the fact there might be a not insubstantial cock swinging around inside them and the back of them revealed the round bulges of an arse which was, as Michael had already observed, eminently fuckable.
Michael broke the silence by saying, “You’re not going to sleep in those, are you?”
Wesley chuckled. “Why not? I usually do…”
Michael moved closer to him, looking him up and down as if checking out what he was wearing for the first time. He laughed, “Well, for a start it’s too warm in here to be wearing all those… and secondly you’re with the big boys now… you’re expected to get into line with us…”
Wesley laughed. “‘Big boys’? And what do ‘big boys’ wear for bed?”
I noticed he moved closer to Michael, looking at his underwear intently.
Michael smiled. “What you see, mate… maybe you should follow suit…”
Wesley laughed again. Then he said, adopting a girlish voice, “Maybe I’d be too shy…”
Michael lunged at him, almost knocking over some of the boxes of sales leaflets Wesley had brought up with him, and grabbed his jogging bottoms. He laughed, “I’ll help you then, Wesley… you can’t sleep in those…”
Wesley giggled, “Hey… get off!” And he pulled away from Michael.
Michael kept chuckling, knowing that Wesley was enjoying the attention if nothing else, and backed off a little. Then he suggested, “I tell you what, to help you overcome your shyness… I’ll undress if you will…”
Wesley tittered, “You haven’t exactly got a lot to take off…”
Michael shrugged. “Exactly… all the more reason for you to agree…”
Wesley laughed again. Now he tried a different stalling tactic: “We should be more considerate… Ollie’s trying to get to sleep…”
Michael turned to me, saying, “You don’t mind, do you mate?”
I smiled over at them. “Not at all. It’s kind of like a bedtime story. Except I think I can pretty much work out how this one’s going to end…”
Michael laughed and turned back to Wesley.
He said, “Come on, then, let’s see you overcome your shyness.” He pulled Wesley’s jogging bottoms down to the tops of his thighs, revealing a fairly small, limp cock and low-hanging balls. Evidently, the lad was not enjoying this on a sexual level.
Wesley laughed and said, “Okay, then, you too…” And he yanked down Michael’s briefs, releasing a semi-hard cock which must have been about six inches long.
Wesley looked at it with mild fascination and muttered, “Jesus, mate… if I had a dick like that, I wouldn’t ever be shy again…!”
Michael suggested: “It gets even bigger if you play with it…”
Wesley looked over at me and I smiled encouragingly. He faltered for a few seconds and then got to work on Michael’s cock, gently stroking it and then, as he developed in confidence, masturbating it more deliberately.
Michael closed his eyes and sighed, his cock slowly lengthening and thickening as the younger man manipulated it in his fist. Soon it was about eight inches long and curving upwards expectantly and insistently.
Wesley stared at it, watching as the cock in his hand gradually achieved its full, magnificent, size. His eyes, although displaying an interest in what was happening in front of them, were cold and removed and spoke only two words: “London Job.”
Michael said, perhaps trying to encourage Wesley to become aroused himself, “Relax, mate… like I said before, it’s just a bit of fun…”
But Wesley’s cock remained steadfastly insignificant between his legs; three or four inches long and dangling down over the top of his loose scrotum.
I watched Wesley wanking Michael, thinking, “Michael’s not going to settle for this… he’s going to want a lot more than this…”, when Michael said, “It gets even bigger if you suck it…”
Wesley swallowed and just kept masturbating it. After a few seconds, he said, “Do you think I should?”
I almost laughed at that. Like Michael was going to say, “Well, actually, no, come to think of it…”
Michael nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah… go for it… see if you like it…”
Wesley’s face betrayed the fact he didn’t want to do this. Or, to be more precise, how disgusted he was by the prospect of doing this.
I was thinking, “It’s a nice, big cock, Wesley mate. You couldn’t ask for a better one on your first go…”
But Wesley didn’t look at all happy about it. I almost thought he was going to put things to an end there and then and say, “Look, Michael, if this is what it takes – well – you can fuck the job in London…”
I’d have thought a lot more of him if he had.
But he didn’t. He got down on his knees in front of Michael and took that huge, engorged organ into his mouth. He sucked on it like a baby on a bottle of milk. Just slurping away at the end of it, as though he was sucking an ice-cream.
Michael pulled out, laughing a little uncomfortably, and said, “Hey, Wesley, mate… haven’t you ever had your dick sucked… you don’t do it like that, mate…”
Wesley looked up at him, obviously deeply embarrassed by his blunder. “Oh…?”
“Yeah… you move your mouth in and out… you pretend your mouth is a pussy… lick it and kiss it… play with it inside your mouth and stuff… don’t treat it like a lollipop…”
Michael laughed but Wesley just turned an even deeper shade of scarlet.
I almost laughed myself. I was thinking, “You thought you’d just pull his pud a few times and he’d cum and you’d be in London by this time next week… it ain’t so easy, mate, is it?”
Wesley said, “Okay, okay… I just never did it before…”
Michael chuckled. “Yeah… I kind of realised that…”
Wesley tried, offering a wan smile, “It’s pretty cool that you’re with a virgin, though, isn’t it? I mean a virgin as far as this kind of stuff is concerned…”
Michael smiled and said, “Yeah, I guess… but just go easy with the teeth, okay?”
Wesley flashed an apologetic grin, his cheeks going red again. “Yeah, okay. That was an accident…”
He opened his mouth widely and took the top three or four inches of Michael’s cock into his mouth. Then he started moving back and forth, pumping the cock with his lips.
Michael sighed and held the back of Wesley’s head, trying to encourage the lad to take more of his cock on each thrust. His arse cheeks started flexing and hips began bucking as he started fucking the younger man’s face.
He gasped, “That’s more like it… that’s pretty nice…”
Wesley grunted and pulled away. He said, after swallowing what I assume was a mouthful of precum from the end of Michael’s cock, “Let me know if you’re gonna cum…”
Michael chuckled. “You’re not that good, mate. You’ve a lot to learn before you can make me cum with your mouth…”
Wesley flushed again and glanced over at me. I smiled pleasantly at him which obviously added to his discomfort.
Michael added, “And anyway, I want to find out how fuckable your arse really is…”
Wesley looked up at him, unable to conceal the horror on his face.
I almost laughed. Did he really expect that he could settle for just a wank and a suck, after everything Michael had said? I hoped, for his sake, that he’d packed a few tubes of lube.
Wesley said, “We don’t have go that far, do we?”
Michael laughed. “I thought you said you were versatile…”
Wesley stammered, “Yeah, but…”
“…and that you were going to demonstrate exactly how…”
Wesley looked terrified.
Michael rubbed his hair affectionately and said, more gently, “Come on, mate, it’s not that bad… have you ever fucked your girlfriend’s arse?”
Wesley shook his head. I’d kind of expected that response.
Michael continued, soothingly, “Well if you had, you’d know that it isn’t too painful for her. And it won’t be too painful for you.”
Wesley’s expression softened only slightly.
Michael went on, more brightly, “And if it is, tell me and I’ll stop. It’s as simple as that…”
Wesley considered the prospect for a few seconds and then asked, “Look… do we have to… I mean, do that?”
Michael shrugged. “No. Of course not. But I would really like it.”
Wesley nodded slowly. There was no way out, really. If he said no at this stage all of his previous efforts would have been pretty much wasted. He’d be leaving Michael disappointed. Not a good career move.
Wesley asked, “Okay… but you’ll be gentle, won’t you?”
Michael smiled. “Actually, I like it rough with guys. I like to fuck their brains out – dunno why. I’m always a bit of a softie with women. Funny that.”
Wesley’s face did not suggest that he found it at all funny.
Michael chuckled and went on, “But I’ll start off slow and we’ll see how it goes… how’s that?”
Wesley nodded, his eyes still wide with fear.
Michael gestured at his cock which had lost none of its size but had drooped downwards during the discussion. “Now suck this back to full mast, mate, and then we’ll see what your other end can do for it…”
Wesley got back to work on Michael’s cock, making a more competent job of it this time. If I had been him I’d have been deliberately awful at it, hoping to keep it soft for as long as possible to delay what was to come, but perhaps he wanted to get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible.
While he was being roughly face-fucked by Michael’s cock, which had recovered to full stiffness in a matter of seconds, I wondered whether Wesley would ever tell anyone about this aspect of his ascent up the ranks of the company. Whether he’d ever mention to a girlfriend or wife that whereas some promotions came through hard work and dedication, others were achieved by working a few tricks on the cock of some influential superior.
And whether this would be the first of many such promotions.
Michael turned to glance over at me and as his hips thrust his cock rapidly in and out of Wesley’s slurping mouth. He grinned at the mound my cock and hand were making underneath my duvet and asked, his voice almost a gasp, “Good show?”
I smiled back. “Excellent.”
After a couple of minutes, Michael withdrew, panting, and announced he was ready to “sample that fuckable arsehole.”
Wesley stood up, wiping the precum and slaver spattered around his lips and glancing sheepishly over at me. His cock was still limp, curling over his balls and looking a mere couple of inches in length.
Pulling off his jogging bottoms, he asked Michael, “What do I do?”
Michael was pulling a packet of condoms and a tube of lube out from his luggage. He grunted, “On your bed on all fours. Arse sticking out so I can stand behind you. Legs wide so your hole’s open.”
Wesley blushed again. Evidently he didn’t find Michael’s description of the position particularly flattering.
He got on the bed and adopted the position Michael had suggested, sticking his arse outwards like a bitch in heat. He saw me looking at him, staring over at his backside as his cheeks parted and the hairy pink ring between them was revealed, and his blush deepened.
Michael unfurled a condom down his long, arching cock and strode over to Wesley. He slid a couple of fingers up and down the length of the lad’s arse cleft, brought them up to his nose and, sniffing them, suggested, “You might wanna just wipe yourself down in the bathroom a bit. I like to fuck a nice clean arse…”
Wesley’s face turned the colour of beetroot. If I’d have been him I’d have told Michael that he could stick his dick up his own arse, clean or unclean, and stormed off into the bathroom to shower.
But Wesley just apologised quietly and timidly retired into the bathroom to attend to himself.
Michael looked over at me and grinned. I shook my head and tutted, whispering quietly, “That’s going a bit too far, mate…”
Michael chuckled. “And he doesn’t deserve it…? All that Thai cookery shit?”
I smiled. “Well, maybe. But you better give him the job after this…”
Michael feigned a look of confusion. “Job… what job?”
I threw him a look of admonition, shaking my head again.
He laughed at my expression. “Hey – what do you think I am? Of course there’s a job and of course he’ll get it…”
The toilet flushed and Wesley re-emerged. His face was still a dark pink and he walked straight back to the bed without looking at either of us.
He got back on it with his arse sticking out again and the hairs inside his cleft looked damp from where he’d washed himself. Michael got behind him and roughly yanked his legs further apart making his balls hang down between his thighs. Michael groped around his arsehole and pressed a finger into him. He muttered, “Yeah… nice and tight.” His voice was distant and almost distracted, as though this was part of a veterinary procedure.
Then he squirted almost half the tube of his lube onto his fingers and worked them inside Wesley, easing his arse open and sliding his slippery fingers into him as far as he could. Wesley gasped as his most sensitive, most personal area was penetrated and peered over his shoulder at me, still panting, to see if I was watching. I was, of course, and Wesley’s face showed how uncomfortable he was with that. Not only was a part of him no-one had ever seen having another guy’s fingers slurp their way in and out of it, but it was being done with a spectator. A spectator with an obvious arousal and a hand gently attending to it.
Michael’s fingers probed deeper and Wesley’s gasps became higher, almost feminine. His eyes were still on mine and he blushed at the uncontrollable sounds he was making.
I thought, “A three-day panel interview would be less gruelling than this…”
Michael squirted another dollop of lube onto his cock and smeared it around the rubbered shaft. He took the opportunity to masturbate himself a little, perhaps enjoying the sensation of lubed rubber around his cock or perhaps to bring himself back to full size.
Then Michael positioned the tip of his cock right up against Wesley’s hole and said, “Okay, then… all ready… prepare to get butt-fucked…”
Wesley didn’t say anything: he looked as if he was too carried away by his own thoughts. I knew what he was thinking – having been in his position, though under far more favourable circumstances, just a few years earlier. He was remembering all the times he and his mates at school had joked about other lads who ‘bummed’ each other, saying how disgusting it was and how they’d never do anything like that. And now here he was on a bed in a cheap hotel room in Bristol, bending forwards to allow some guy almost double his age to do exactly that to him.
All for the sake of a job which he might easily have got through normal channels anyway.
Michael pushed forward and a couple of inches of his cock slid into Wesley’s hole. The lad farted loudly. It would have been comical in any other circumstances but none of us laughed now.
Michael pushed again and another inch or so slid into Wesley’s arse. Wesley winced in pain and grunted, “Jesus!”
I called over, “Pretend like your taking a crap…”
Wesley looked over his shoulder at me, his face red and his eyes glowering. I suspected that maybe I ought to keep my advice to myself.
Michael laughed over at me, “You’ve done this too…?”
I shrugged. “Maybe once or twice… but not like this…”
Michael eased another inch of his cock into the arse in front of him and muttered, “How d’you mean, ‘not like this’?”
I smiled. “Well… I didn’t lose my virginity for business reasons… mine was entirely for pleasure…”
Wesley threw me another scalding look from over his shoulder. He mouthed, “Fuck you,” but then realised how absurd it was to say that, being in the position he was in, and so turned to face forwards again.
Half of his cock now buried in the younger man’s arse, Michael started gently sliding himself in and out, grabbing Wesley’s hips to hold him steady.
He asked, “How’s that feel?”
Wesley gasped, “Yeah, okay.” His voice – almost a sob – made it sound like it was either not okay at all or extremely, ecstatically okay. I suspected the former.
But Michael seemed suitably reassured and started building up a rhythm, trying to push himself a little deeper on each thrust. Wesley’s balls started jumping around and his cock, still limp and insubstantial, made little slapping noises as it whacked up against his stomach.
He let out another fart, much louder than the first, and apologised, looking crimson again.
Michael dismissed it. “Don’t worry about it… it happens…”
As Michael’s rhythm increased, Wesley began to grunt in pain. At first he began making occasional, low gasping noises but these became louder and more regular as the hammering at his arse became deeper and faster.
Although Michael was obviously enjoying the sensation of giving the guy a good fucking, the lad’s obvious discomfort started putting him off. At first he suggested that he could wank him while he fucked him, but Wesley said, “I don’t think it’d help… anyway, I’m soft as hell down there…”
So then Michael asked if moving onto the bed properly would help, giving his cock a higher angle or something, and they tried that. But still Wesley’s painful noises continued: as much as he tried to stifle them, he found it impossible to silence them completely.
Michael suggested more lube but Wesley snapped, “Please… just finish it off… for God’s sake…”
Michael tried to comply, fucking the lad in long fast strokes to try and bring his orgasm nearer, while his brief lover grunted like a pig in a trap. Wesley would look over at me occasionally, his eyes red with the pain, and glare with disgust at the bulge in my duvet under which my cock was being masturbated by my hand. I knew I shouldn’t be aroused by what I was seeing, but I couldn’t help myself. In the cold light of day, if someone had described to me the scene I was party to, I’d have been horrified and found the idea of anyone finding it even remotely sexual offensive. But in that room, watching Wesley take his first cock deep and hard, hearing the wet slapping sounds as Michael thrust it in and out of his arse, smelling the pungent mixture of rubber and the lad’s anus which seemed to be smothering the room; well, I guess it kind of got to me!
Michael’s rhythm began to increase and he grabbed Wesley’s hips more firmly, his breathing quickening and his forehead starting to sweat. He slammed his cock so roughly into Wesley’s arse that his balls, large and heavy, whacked against the tops of the lad’s thighs with every thrust. He grunted, “Yeah… that’s good…”
Then the headboard of the bed started beating against the wall, softly and intermittently at first, and then building up into a loud, rhythmic hammering. Wesley looked over at me and blushed again. Not only did he have just one spectator; half of the hotel would now be aware of his predicament. Many of the other people staying here were attending the same conference as us; I suspected there’d be many more blushes to come at breakfast the next morning.
Michael ignored it and fucked on, driving his cock in and out of the lad’s arse as he headed towards his climax. I noticed his face was directed towards the ceiling and his eyes were closed. He was desperately trying to think of things to bring on his orgasm; looking at Wesley, grunting and wincing in front of him, evidently wasn’t having that effect.
I think Michael was very close when Wesley farted for the third time. This one sounded different.
Wesley cried out, flushing scarlet again, “Oh shit, sorry, mate…”
Michael muttered, “Don’t worry about it…” But then pulled his cock out of Wesley’s hole and stripped off the condom quickly. He turned it inside-out and threw it on the floor. He pulled a couple of tissues out from the box on the bedside table and threw them over to Wesley. “Wipe yourself down… I’ll finish myself off…”
Wesley made as if to get up but Michael said, “No… stay there…” Wesley nodded and remained on all fours, reaching around to his arse to wipe the lube and slime from it. This time he didn’t look over at me.
I was thinking, “Maybe not quite as versatile as you thought you were, Wesley, mate…”
After Wesley had tossed the used tissues onto the floor, Michael stood behind him again and began masturbating himself over the lad’s back. Like before, he closed his eyes tightly and faced up at the ceiling as his hand pumped away. His cock soon recovered from the shock of its premature withdrawal from Wesley’s arse and stiffened back to its full impressive size in his hand. He was obviously imagining he was fucking someone, but that someone wasn’t Wesley.
Wesley just stayed on all fours, like an obedient dog, waiting to feel the hot wet squirts from Michael’s cock on his back. He faced forwards but his expression was sullen. This hadn’t gone entirely to plan. It was supposed to end with the two of them finding dizzy new heights to their sexual pleasures; Michael crying out his name while Wesley simultaneously sprayed his own fountain ecstatically over the mattress. Instead Michael was reduced to wazzing himself off, desperately trying to think of something erotic to take him out of this unpleasant-smelling room, while Wesley just knelt there, waiting, exposing his wet gaping arsehole and his balls dangling beneath it.
Michael blew his load with a few terse, guttural grunts. His cock erupted violently, throwing strings and gobs of white semen right across Wesley’s back. The lad was soon showered in Michael’s cum.
Even before the man’s orgasm had subsided, Wesley pulled himself out from under him and staggered into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. Michael ignored him and continued milking his large cock, squeezing the last drops of cum from the red head and recovering his breath.
As he wiped himself with a couple of tissues, there were sounds from the bathroom of Wesley noisily using the toilet and then, a few seconds later, of retching.
Michael looked over at me and smiled. “Jesus. I’m not that bad, am I?”
I smiled. I was still gently playing with my cock beneath the duvet. “I was just thinking the opposite.”
Michael grinned. “Yeah?”
I chuckled. “Yeah. I was just thinking that Wesley isn’t the only one in the room with a fuckable arse…”
Michael laughed. “You should have said that about twenty minutes ago, mate…”
“I didn’t want to piss on you guys’ little party…”
Michael smiled and considered my possible motives. “Hmm… I don’t know of any promotions coming up in your department…”
I shrugged. “Yeah and if there were, I’d apply in the normal way. To be honest, I don’t go in for being interviewed bending over some hotel bed…”
He chuckled. “You don’t approve of what we just did, Ollie… is that your point?”
I adjusted my duvet a little, taking my hand away from my cock. Then I replied, “I wasn’t really making a point other than saying that I think you’ve got a sexy arse… I’m not going for a promotion or a pay rise or anything else… I just think you’ve got a nice bum, mate…”
Michael smiled at me warmly. “Okay… so maybe we should do something together tomorrow night, then?”
“Yeah. Why not.”
He gestured to the bathroom, with the sounds of Wesley showering coming from behind the door, “And we’ll send the little squirt home beforehand…”
I shook my head. “No. He should be there. He could learn something…”
“I dunno exactly. We’ll see how things go. But we can’t leave him feeling so disgusted about gay sex the way he must be right now…”
I settled myself into the mattress beneath me, and said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me… I’m gonna get some sleep…”
Michael nodded and said, “So we’re on for tomorrow night? That’s definite…?”
“Purely for fun…”
He smiled brightly again. “Nice one… see you in the morning…”
And I turned off the light over my bed and rolled over to get some sleep.
As ulterior motives go, mine wasn’t so ulterior. I didn’t much like what either of them had done but I wasn’t on some one-man mission put it all to rights. I just fancied a shot at Michael and also wanted to prove a point to Wesley. The fact that I thought I could accomplish both of those at the same time made the idea of giving it a try almost irresistible.
I wasn’t too taken by what Michael had done but, I suppose, he’d gone into it assuming Wesley would, once he’d relaxed a little, begin to enjoy his first gay experience. It hadn’t been Michael’s fault that things had gone so badly wrong and that Wesley had ended up finding the whole thing so humiliating.
At the same time, I didn’t regard Wesley as an angel. He’d known from the outset the terms of Michael’s deal and had agreed to participate at every stage. He’d just thought he could use his body as a form of occupational currency without considering that his body might not be willing to play the game.
I guess I wanted to show Wesley that sex between men can be beautiful and important, if that doesn’t sound too clichéd or immodest of me. Certainly I wanted to show him that it was too beautiful to be used as a bargaining tool and too important to be given away like it was candy.
I guess I’m just a morally-upstanding soul at heart!
In any case, even if Wesley didn’t learn anything from it, the fun I’d have with Michael while I was trying to make my point to Wesley would, on its own, make it worthwhile.
I don’t think Wesley had any idea as to what was going on between Michael and I until that second night when I walked out of the bathroom, stark naked, strolled over to Michael’s bed and gave him one of the longest, deepest kisses I’ve ever given another guy. Even then I think the lad was too stunned to understand and just gawped at us from his bed as we started caressing each other’s backs and arses, kneading each other’s cocks and balls, moaning gently and tonguing nipples and armpits.
He kept staring at us – the first time that day he’d shown any emotion other than self-absorption – and no doubt wondered what had led to this; whether there was another London job that I might be interested in.
He’d got up that morning long before Michael and I and had been sitting out at the front of the hotel, staring impassively out into the car-park, when the two of us had gone down for breakfast.
At the end of our lunch break his mobile phone had rang with a call from his head of department. Wesley was to visit London head office for an informal chat the following week. Michael had smiled at him but Wesley had remained blank. After a couple of minutes silence, he muttered, “Thanks,” and had then excused himself from our table.
Even in the restaurant as we were having a meal that evening, Wesley had said little. Michael and I had chatted amicably and I don’t think Wesley had even noticed when the conversation had occasionally veered off to that strange, inimitable dialogue of ostensibly straight men flirting with one another.
So I guess the shock of seeing us get to work on one another, apparently without warning and right in front of him, was pretty dramatic. He was, quite literally, open mouthed; seeing, probably for the first time in his life, two men genuinely and unaffectedly enjoying each other’s bodies.
Michael and I played around on the bed for a while together, giving Wesley time to digest the fact that two guys who he knew to be strongly attached to the women in their lives happened also to have no hang-ups about being naked, aroused and affectionate with one another. Michael would roll on top of me for a few moments and then I’d reverse things; our bodies would be intertwined one second and the two of us would be fighting for dominance the next; both of us chuckling and gasping as our stiff swollen cocks poked into one another and our heavy balls flopped around between us.
We lay together, chest against chest, for a few minutes while we ate at each other’s mouths and our cocks, both throbbing and insistent, ground against each other between our stomachs. It felt so good to be like that with him, smelling that uniquely masculine mixture of sweat and precum, and feeling the strength of his toned body. I guess I mustn’t have been with another guy like that for a couple of months right then – you kind of forget, when you’re just sleeping with a woman night after night, how refreshing another man’s body can be.
Wesley just kept staring. We started wrestling on the bed, playfully insulting one another and laughing like schoolboys. Michael’s balls would thump against my face and then my cock would poke him in the arse. We lunged and grabbed at each other and then, when we were both breathless from our exertions and from laughing, we wrapped our fingers around each other’s cocks and started masturbating one another.
We were kneeling on the bed at that stage, both facing Wesley with our cocks arching upwards towards him. He looked up at us and then down at the twin eyes of our cocks, blinking and unblinking as our foreskins were swept back and forth.
I smiled at him and he just stared at me. My face said, “This is how it should be,” and I think he nodded.
I surprised Michael by lunging down at his cock and licking the dark red tip of it as I masturbated him. He laughed, “Ooh – keen, aren’t ya,” and I responded by pushing him backwards onto the bed, his hands supporting himself on the pillows, and went to work properly on him.
I took as much of him in my mouth as I could, tasting his salty precum and smelling his sweaty balls. I slurped up and down his length, allowing him to guide my rhythm with his hands on either side of my head. He began bucking his hips, slowly at first and then fast enough to make the headboard bang against the wall again, and I kept feeding at his cock like it was my last meal.
With my hands I played with his balls and then went beneath that to finger around the ring of his arse. He responded by moaning and gasping his approval, ramming his large, precum-oozing cock as deep into my mouth as he could.
After a minute or so, I worked my mouth down from his cock to lick at his damp, sweaty balls and then further underneath to tongue around his moist, musky-smelling anus. He grabbed his cock and masturbated himself roughly and furiously, crying out, “Yeah, yeah!” for half the hotel to hear.
After I’d spent a couple of minutes penetrating him with my tongue, intending to return before long with something more substantial, I emerged back into fresh air. He grinned at me, still frantically masturbating himself.
He muttered, between panting for breath, “You sure you’re not after a promotion?”
I smiled, pulling myself up to kneel over him. “No. But I’m after this.”
I grabbed his head and pulled him onto my cock. Even as it slid into him, I saw his smile broadening.
He adjusted his position and began sucking at me properly, working at my cock with his lips and tongue and betraying the fact that he’d had a lot of experience at this.
I looked over at Wesley, still lying in his bed, who was still staring at us as though mesmerised. I was surprised to see a mound in his duvet which was being worked gently but rhythmically by a hand beneath it. Perhaps he was getting something out of my little demonstration after all!
He broke his fixed gaze to look up at my face. Gently panting from the expert actions of Michael’s mouth, I smiled at him again and, like before, he seemed to nod back. I wanted to say, “You don’t suck a guy without getting sucked back, mate. It’s how it works…” But I couldn’t. I think he understood anyway.
Michael left my cock, as I had with his, to work his mouth down to my balls, sucking one and then the other as I began wanking myself. He seemed to enjoy rubbing his nose around my scrotum, as if inhaling the sweaty odours down there, and then moved further downward. Easing my legs open a little, he worked his face underneath me and reached his tongue upward to lick at my most sensitive spot. As he had been, I was in ecstasy. I jerked at my cock in a blur of motion, gasping for more.
He willingly obliged, driving his tongue into me through my tight anus, and then flicking it gently in and out of me I was almost screaming in pleasure; I was shouting, “Fuck me with it… go on… fuck me with it…”
He pushed deeper so that as much of it was inside me as he could get and then started sliding it in and out of me. I had to stop masturbating because I knew I would orgasm, so I just drove my arse onto his face, working my hole against his tongue, gasping and panting in pleasure.
Wesley was wide-eyed, staring at my unattended cock – arching, throbbing and weeping precum – as I cavorted my bum against Michael’s face. No doubt he was wondering, “How can a straight guy be enjoying this so much…?” The mound inside his duvet, growing faster and faster, showed that he didn’t need an answer.
Michael pulled out from my anus and stood up in front of me. We kissed deeply again, sharing the tastes of each other’s cocks and arses inside our mouths, as our bodies pressed against one another, slick with sweat.
I gently eased him back down onto the bed, still kissing him, and then pulled a condom out from the packet on the bedside table. Before he could say anything, I tore it open and unfurled it down his large, stiff cock. He flashed me a grin of surprise.
Without using lube – his mouth had provided enough – I straddled him and lined his cock-head up with the opening of my arse. Then I pushed myself down onto him and, using the trick that Wesley had rejected on the previous evening, accommodated a good six inches of his length smoothly and easily.
I held him clamped inside me, squeezing his cock with my anal muscles, and Michael groaned in pleasure. He muttered, “Jesus, that feels good,” and I eased another inch of him into me.
I looked over at Wesley who was still fascinated by us. His fist made a regular thumping noise from inside his duvet as he watched Michael’s cock slide into me and then his eyes moved upward to my cock. It stood upwards from my thighs, still fully aroused as I was being penetrated, and I knew – since I’d had enough practice at this to be able to control it – that it would stay that way. Wesley just peered at it, as if waiting for it to soften, but it stayed at full mast.
I sighed, for the benefit of both of them, “Yeah… it feels great…”
Then I started moving up and down, squeezing Michael’s cock with my arse as I did so, riding him as he moaned and smiled up at me.
After a minute or so, he took control and began bucking his hips to drive his cock in and out of me. Like he’d said to Wesley, he liked it rough, and soon the friction of the condom slurping in and out of my arse arse mixed with the sweat from both of us and filled the room with a thick, cloying odour. I saw Wesley sniff it and inwardly acknowledge its similarities to his version on the previous evening. It seemed to cause his fist to get even faster and the beating from his duvet turn into a loud, regular thumping.
My cock was now straining, demanding release, and curved upwards insistently from my balls which slapped against Michael’s stomach.
Rather than masturbating it, I pulled upwards from Michael’s cock and, gesturing for him to flip over onto all fours, I unfurled a condom down it and pushed it into his arsehole. He gasped and then laughed, “Jesus, mate – talk about liking it both ways!”
I grabbed onto his hips and started fucking him just as roughly as he’d fucked me. He grunted his approval and started masturbating himself. He was gasping, “Ah… yeah… go for it…”
I literally pummelled the guy – our balls were banging together between his thighs and the headboard banged against the wall like someone hammering in an endless nail. Now Michael’s most private scent, base and pungent, filled the room.
I looked over at Wesley and his face was agog. His expression said, “I didn’t know you could do that… I’d have done that…” He looked up at my face and seemed indignant; almost angry.
Perhaps as a way of reaffirming his masculinity, he yanked the duvet away from himself to reveal what was going on beneath it. He had a cock that, had he chose to use it on the previous evening, would have made Michael’s eyes water. The insubstantial droop that had almost disappeared into his pubes the previous night had somehow transformed into an eight or nine inch towering erection.
He masturbated it quickly, peering over at me fucking Michael, pausing only occasionally to watch beads of precum ooze from the tip of the bulbous, purple head.
His eyes looked back up at me and seemed more confident. They said, “You might think you know how to fuck a guy, but, once I learn a few moves, this piece of kit will go a lot deeper…”
A little of the old self-assured Wesley was back and I was pleased.
Michael fucked me standing up between our beds and then I fucked him with him lying on his back like a woman. All the time Wesley watched us and wanked that huge cock of his.
Michael and I climaxed pretty much together while we were in an embrace – kissing and holding one another, masturbating our cocks between our sweat-streaming stomachs – and Wesley’s own larger fist-battered erection erupted its white fountain just seconds later.
We were all pretty quiet with each other until breakfast the next morning.
Wesley broke the silence as we tucked into our fry-up by saying, “I don’t know if I’ll go for that chat with that guy in London…”
Michael looked surprised. “Oh?”
Wesley nodded. “Yeah. If the job comes up properly – you know, through normal channels – I might go for it… but I don’t want to get it through your recommendation… it doesn’t seem fair…”
Michael stared at him and then back at his breakfast. “Okay…”
After a couple of minutes – I think, over the toast – Michael asked, “Do you think what I did wasn’t fair?”
Wesley shook his head. “No… you were playing a game and I agreed to join in… that was fair… it’s just, well… if I took the job after getting it that way, I wouldn’t feel right about it…”
Michael nodded. “Okay…”
Wesley looked at us both and smiled. “But you guys were pretty cool last night…”
I smiled back. “Yeah…?”
“Yeah… I’d go for that again,” Wesley said, testingly. “As long as it was just for a laugh, like you guys did…”
Michael looked even more surprised. “Are you serious?”
Wesley chuckled. “Yeah… any more conferences and stuff… count me in…”
Michael smiled. “Okay… I guess we could say you need more practice at going to corporate meetings, or whatever…”
Wesley grinned coyly. “After the other night, I think we all know I need more practice, mate…”
Michael laughed. “Well, I’d be happy to give you some training…”
Wesley looked at me and I nodded, saying, “It was pretty clear last night that you’ve a lot of potential…”
And it was just a couple of months before the three of us returned to Bradley Stoke.
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