John Paul Batista, Executive Director of Photography. Has a nice ring to it doesn't it? I thought so too when Adam offered me the position. After 40 years of service for the publishing company, our beloved Larry Marshall decided to call it quits and spend the rest of his life on a tropical island in the middle of the Pacific where there were no magazines. It was at that point that Adam decided to realign the company's structure and created two new positions: Director of Photography and Director of Writing. These directors would report directly to him and would oversee the written and photographic concept of all the magazines. He offered the jobs to me and Jake, respectively, and we both eagerly accepted.
I have to admit, I was a little worried about working so closely with Adam. I still had feelings for him. With a level or two of management between us, it was easy for me to deny and ignore those feelings but, now that I'd be seeing him and talking to him almost every day. I was afraid those feelings would start to resurface. It was a risk I was willing to take; especially since the job came with a hefty salary increase and a huge corner office overlooking Georgetown and the Potomac.
Jake's office was directly across from mine and I fully expected that we'd spend the first few days throwing wads of paper across the hall at each other. Instead, we were bombarded with piles of letters, memos, faxes, scheduling issues, initiatives and directives - and it was only our first day on the job. I looked up to see Jake slumped over his desk, poring over his stack of documents. I thought he would have quit long ago, but I was happy to see that he was taking his new job very seriously. Motivated by his tenacity, I grabbed another file and started reading.
A few minutes later, there was a thud on my desk accompanied by the usual melancholy announcement, "Mail." I glanced up to see the mail boy drop off yet another stack of files from Adam. I sighed and thanked him; he rolled his eyes and walked away. I wasn't sure what that attitude was all about but, frankly, I didn't have time to care.
I returned to my reading when suddenly, from nowhere, I hear the mail boy ask, "Is it true what they say about you?"
I looked up from my reading and said, "Excuse me?"
"You know... about you being gay or something."
"Well, yes, if you must know, I am gay. What about it?"
"I don't know. I guess it's just kinda weird."
"Yeah, well, try not to think about it."
"How can I not think about it? Every time I'm around you I'm going to think you're looking at my ass or my crotch or something. That's just so. gross!"
I stared at him in disbelief. My initial reaction was to dismiss him and go about my business but, for some inane reason, I decided to indulge in this childish conversation.
"Don't worry," I said, giving him a quick look over. "There's nothing about your outward appearance that would make me want to look any further."
The boy turned bright red and started to stammer something unintelligible, but he was irritated beyond speech. All he could do was grab his mail cart and storm out of my office. As he walked away, I checked out his ass - just for the hell of it. It was plump, but firm, and just screamed to be fucked. I got a slight erection just watching it shift inside his lightweight, black dress pants. "Too bad he's not gay," I thought.
I looked away to see Jake shaking his head and grinning. He'd obviously seen me checking the kid out. I winked at him and returned to my reading.
The next morning, I saw the mail boy making his rounds outside of my office. With the large floor-to-ceiling windows, I could watch him pushing his cart by every desk on the floor. Now, I call him a mail boy because, compared to me, that's exactly what he was - a boy. I doubted he was even old enough to drink. legally, that is. But he was a good looking boy though, the kind that would make you consider robbing the cradle a few times a night. Besides that fine ass, he had a body sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Even through his loose fitting white cotton oxford, I could see the definition in his chest and arms. And he had that all-American, boy-next-door look with just a hint of mischief in his crooked grin. It was frightening how much he reminded me of Adam. I snapped out of my longing gaze just in time; he was making his way to our offices. He dropped off Jake's mail first then crossed the hall to my desk.
"Looks like the boss is taking it easy on you two today," he commented. His attempt at a conversation seemed stiff and artificial, but it was a hell of a lot better than his usual announcement.
"Thank you, Reese," I said, taking the stack of mail from his hand.
"How'd you know my name?" he blurted out.
"I asked around. I figured since we'd be seeing each other every day, I should at least know your name. I didn't think you'd mind," I said, with a sly grin on my face.
"Well, I-I, no, I don't mind," he stuttered.
"Good," I said and started sorting through my mail. I could see in my peripheral view that Reese was still standing at my desk, but I pretended not to notice.
"When you made that comment about my outward appearance yesterday, what exactly did you mean?"
I looked at him and waved my hand dismissively. "Oh nothing," I replied.
"No, really... I want to know," he urged. "You know, so I can look good for the chicks. I figure, you being gay and all, you'd know what chicks liked."
"Yes, of course," I said as sincerely as possible. "I really shouldn't say this because it's just my opinion, but. no, never mind, forget it."
"No! C'mon! Tell me!"
I sighed. "Okay, but promise you won't take this the wrong way."
"I promise."
"It's just that you look like a yo-boy trying to play dress-up, what with the oversized dress shirt and the droopy dress slacks hanging low on your hips. You're sending out mixed signals. Either you want to look professional or you don't - decide and stick to it. Then the chicks will like you."
"Really? You think so?"
"Absolutely," I said.
"Thanks Mr. Batista!"
"Please, call me John Paul," I said to him as he walked out the door then took another look at his ass for good measure. I adjusted my tingling cock and went back to sorting through my mail.
The next day, at 8:00 on the dot, Reese made his way across the floor with the first mail delivery of the day. He was rushing up and down the walkway between the desks, and almost ran over one of our gophers. I busied myself as he approached my office, acting as if I hadn't been watching him the whole time and didn't know he was coming. He placed the mail on my desk then stood there silently for a couple of minutes.
"So, whatcha think?" he asked.
He was standing in front of my desk with his arms outstretched for my inspection. The poor sap didn't know I had already inspected him. He looked fine before - I'm rather fond of the yo-boy look actually - but he looked absolutely perfect that day. His pants fit a little better, were pulled up where they should have been, and did an even better job accentuating his fuckable ass. His shirt was a little tighter - but not too tight - and really showed off his powerful physique. And he even put on a tie! It was a tasteful solid-colored tie in a stunning shade of ice blue that was almost as pale as his eyes. Not bad for a straight boy. I leaned back and crossed my legs as if taking a moment to ponder the situation. In truth, I was trying to conceal my over eager dick that was jumping at the chance to take a stab the sharply dressed youth standing before me.
"Mmm, yeah, now that's what I'm talking about," I stated with just a hint of lust in my eyes and voice.
Reese turned beet red and looked highly disturbed by my comment. "What's wrong? Isn't that the effect you wanted?" I asked.
"Yeah, but not from you!!"
"Why not? If I think you look hot, won't the girls think so too?"
"I guess so... but it's just gross coming from another guy."
"A compliment is a compliment, and you should feel especially honored because I don't give out compliments like that to just anyone."
He still seemed repulsed by the idea of me finding him desirable, but he thanked me anyway. He went on his merry way and I didn't see him again until his afternoon run. That was the routine for the next couple of days. Reese would rush into my office to let me inspect his new outfit. I'd tell him how tasty he looked. He'd cringe slightly, thank me, and go about the rest of his day. By the end of the week, however, he started striking up small conversations after my inspection; nothing too deep, just your basic small talk. He'd also stop by on his afternoon run to chat for a bit. He turned out to be a really nice kid, even if he was painfully homophobic. I learned he played football in high school (a wide receiver. imagine that) which explained his exceptional physique, and also found out that he wanted to be a graphic designer (an artist too. how interesting).
A few weeks later, the inspections were a thing of history. I told him he had the dressing thing down pat and my approval was no longer necessary. He still stopped by twice a day to talk. Our conversations grew a longer, deeper and more personal every day and, soon, we were chatting like old buddies.
The new style was obviously working. He was getting girls left and right and he was all the buzz among the gay guys in the office - I decided not to tell him that, though; the idea that so many guys were checking him out might have given him an aneurism.
One day, he sat down and started talking about a date he had with a particularly prime brunette then started explaining his wild sexual experience in great detail. Not to be outdone by a 19-year-old (I told you he wasn't old enough to drink) I decided to tell him one of my own. I hadn't even gotten to the good part when he interrupted me.
"Hey, wait... I don't want to hear that shit!" he wailed.
"Why not? I listened to your vagina story."
"That's different; it's not gross."
"It is to me."
He stopped to think about what I said. With a pained look on his face, he said, "I guess you're right. What's fair is fair."
"Forget it. If it's going to make you uncomfortable."
"No, it's alright. I guess if we're going to be friends I should get used to the fact that you do stuff like that."
That was as much tolerance as I could expect from him. I asked him again if he was sure. He said he was, so I continued telling him about a night of wild sex on the beach with a surfer named Kip and his buddy, Buddy. Halfway through it, Reese was fully engrossed in my very explicit tale of steamy sex between three young, horny men. He sat there, mouth gaping and eyes gawking as I explained the sensation of double fucking someone. When I was done, all he could say was, "Holy shit!"
"Yeah. pretty much," I responded. I looked at my watch. "Shit! Sorry kiddo, I have to kick you out so I can call into this meeting."
"Yeah. sure. no problem," he said and stood up. I couldn't help but notice the nice lump in the front of his pants before he turned to walk away.
I followed him to the door and watched him try to secretly adjust his package. "I'll talk to you later," he said as he pushed his cart out of my office.
I closed the door behind him and mumbled, "You certainly will."
We didn't talk much that afternoon, but the next morning Reese had a brand new story about the kinky brunette. I listened in disgust as he retold his latest episode of vaginal conquest. It didn't get interesting until he brought up the subject of anal sex. Now that was something I could get into.
"Can you believe it? She likes to take it up the ass!" he said in a raised whisper.
"Big deal; so do I," I countered, which made Reese wince in disgust. "Sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you like that."
"It's okay," he said. We sat silently for a minute. I wasn't sure what was on his mind, but I was thinking of a way to change the subject to something other than sex. Then it became obvious that his mind was still firmly set on the subject.
"So, you like to be the receiver?" he asked.
I was shocked; not by the question but by his sincerity. He seemed to genuinely want to know. Before then, he only listened to me talk about gay stuff out of obligation. "Sure... sometimes I like to give though. It all depends on the guy."
"What's it feel like? I mean... you know... getting fucked."
"It's hard to explain, really. It can hurt a little sometimes, but most of the time it feels fucking incredible. especially if the guy knows how to hit your spot."
"Your spot?"
"Yeah... your G-spot... your prostate gland." He still looked confused. "Haven't you ever had someone finger you while giving you a blow job?"
"No." I gave him my standard stare of disbelief. "Okay, once, but I wouldn't let her put it all way in."
"Right. and Clinton didn't inhale. Anyway, do you remember that tingling sensation?"
"Yeah," he said then blushed, realizing he'd unwittingly confessed to having his ass played with.
"Well that's your spot. If you had let her actually put her finger in, she would have really hit it and it would have felt a hundred times better."
He frowned and shook his head. I rolled my eyes. "Listen, Reese, I have to finish this budget plan by tomorrow. As it is, I'll probably be here all night, so I'd better get cracking on it."
"Okay. You want me to hold your mail this afternoon?"
"No. I may not be able to talk to you like I usually do, but that doesn't mean you can't stop by and say hello."
He smiled. "Cool. I'll see you this afternoon." He waved and left with the same bulge in his pants as he had the day before.
Budget work was the unglamorous part of my job that Adam forgot to mention when he offered me the position. I didn't even like balancing my own checkbook; planning a budget certainly was something I could live without, but it had to be done. I was so focused on getting it done I didn't even take lunch. I worked all day and all afternoon, stopping occasionally to watch Jake struggle over his own budget headache, and then not again until Reese arrived with the afternoon mail.
"Jesus! It's only 3:00? I feel like I've been working on this all day!" I complained to the young mail clerk.
"Actually, it's 7:30. You HAVE been working all day."
I looked at my watch then outside at the setting sun. The office was empty. Even Jake had given up and gone home; I must have missed him saying good night. or maybe he was too tired and didn't say it at all.
"Wow! I had no idea it was this late," I confessed. "What are you doing here so late?"
"I came to drop off your mail."
"At 7:30 in the evening?"
"You looked really intense earlier so I decided to bring it you a little later. Then I thought you might be hungry, so I went out and got you some dinner," he said, setting a bag on my conference table. "You like Thai don't you?"
"Yeah, it's one of my favorites. this is really nice of you. How much do I owe you?"
"It's on me. Now hurry up and get over here. I'm starving!"
"You're going to join me?" I asked.
"If you don't mind," he answered.
"Not at all," I said, gesturing for him to take a seat.
We sat down and ate. Actually, I gorged while he ate. If he was starving, I must have been suffering from malnutrition. There was little conversation, mostly him talking about saving up money to go to school so he wouldn't have to be a mail clerk who lived with his mother for the rest of his life. Eventually, even that gave way to the need to get our eat on. And we did, until we were both too full to move. We sat back in our chairs, staring at each other with a grin of contentment etched across our faces.
"That was excellent!" I said. "Thanks again."
"No problem. it's the least I could do. You've been really nice to me even if I have been somewhat of a jerk."
"I wouldn't say you've been a jerk. an asshole maybe, but not a jerk."
We laughed for a minute then fell into another post-slopping silence.
"I have a confession to make," he said. I was all ears as he continued, "I used to date this girl who liked to finger my ass, but it didn't feel that good. The only reason I let her do it is because she was a good lay and I didn't want her to stop putting out."
"How romantic," I said. "I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it though. she must have been doing it wrong."
He shrugged. "Nah, I just don't think I'm into that kinda shit."
"What kind of shit is that?"
"You know. gay shit."
"Having your ass played with is not gay. I know tons of straight men who like to have a finger or two up their ass."
"Yeah, well I ain't one of them!"
"Okay, okay. I'm just saying if she had fingered you properly, you'd have a whole different view on the subject."
He stared at me. His look was a cross between indignation and disgust. I hadn't meant to piss him off; I didn't think the subject was that important, but obviously he did.
"You think you can do better?" he asked, his intense stare still aimed at me.
"I know I can." I met his stare with one of my own - one that told him I didn't think he had the guts to go through with what he was proposing.
"Then prove it." He licked his lips and blinked; his courage was already faltering. "I'll let you finger my ass and I bet I don't even get a little stiff."
"I don't know," I said, trying to make him feel like it was I who didn't have the courage to go through with it and that he was in control. I didn't want to strip him of all his manhood.
"No, come on. You brought it up, so let's see what you've got." So young, so gullible.
"This is stupid," I argued.
"You're just afraid I won't like it and you'll look stupid."
"That's not it at all."
"Then do it."
I pretended to think about it for a while although I'd made my decision the first time he asked me. "Fine. Let's do this."
I could see the surprise in his eyes. He didn't think I'd really agree to it, but I'd been lusting after that ass for weeks; I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to play with it, no matter how ridiculous the premise was. And now he was trapped. He couldn't back out of it without looking like a punk, which was a fate worse than being gay in the eyes of a pigheaded straight boy like himself.
"Fine," he said then stood up and reached for his buckle.
I watched in mock disinterest while he loosened his buckle and unfastened his pants. As they fell off his waist and around his ankles, I was treated to my first glimpse at his beefy package. It was partially obscured by his shirttail, but I could see enough. I could see his thick, nicely tanned and well-defined legs. And I could see how crowded his equipment was in the tiny pouch of his underwear.
"How do you want to do this?" he asked. I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, but I was about to make all of his worries go away.
"Doesn't matter... you'll probably feel better if you turned around and leaned forward a little."
He nodded and spun around so that his bubble butt was turned towards me. He leaned over the conference table and waited for further instructions. All that stood between me and that young man's beautiful round ass was his shirt, his underwear and about of foot of open air. I licked my lips and slowly lifted away the first obstacle only to find that it was the only one. This young buck was wearing a jock strap! With his shirt out of the way, his lovely, bronzed ass was finally revealed to me; and it was everything I expected and more! He had the biggest, roundest, firmest ass I'd ever seen on a man. I mean, I'm talking near J. Lo size. It was completely hairless and tan like the rest of his exposed skin. I immediately grabbed a hold of his rock hard ass and gave it a good squeeze.
"Hey! None of that... let's just get this over with," he barked.
I pouted to myself. At long last, I had the perfect ass at my disposal and he wouldn't even let me fully appreciate it. I'd teach him! I parted his gorgeous fleshy mounds and dove into his ass tongue-first.
"Wait a minute! What the fuck are you doing?!" Reese protested.
"I'm lubing you up. You don't want me to stick my finger in dry, do you? Now shut up and turn around."
"Alright," he said with a frown and turned back around to let me finish. "But don't get carried away."
"Okay, okay!" I consented although I had no intention of heeding his warning.
I spread his cheeks apart again and lapped at his cherry hole with my wet, flat tongue. I felt his body tense from the obviously strange sensation. I bathed his hole with my tongue until it was sopping wet then curled my tongue into a point and lightly circled his tight, pink pucker. His ass clenched even tighter but I was relentless in my stimulation of his bunghole. I tickled the tiny hairs around his sphincter until I felt it loosen up; just slightly at first, but more and more with each pass of my hungry tongue. I had all night and could have spent the rest of it just eating his musky ass.
"I've never had anyone lick my ass before," he commented as his sphincter slowly granted me access to his inner depths.
"Mm hmm," I hummed.
Taking advantage of the golden opportunity, I shoved the tip of my tongue into his tight hole. Reese's legs shook and I heard him vaguely mumble, "Oh shit!" Running with that positive response, I started to fuck him with my tongue to lube and loosen him up some more. By the sounds of his hissing and moaning, he didn't have any more objections to this part of the procedure. That, of course, gave me license to move on to the next level.
Now that'd I'd gotten him accustomed to something working into his no-man's land, it was time to introduce him to his G-spot. With my tongue still buried in his bung, I casually slipped my finger in. To a virgin ass, however, there's no such thing as a casual entrance. Reese was completely aware of my finger jabbing into him and his ass immediately locked up, clamping down on my finger and tongue. I wiggled my digit around, trying to dig through his incredible tightness, but he resisted me ever fraction of an inch of the way.
"That's it; I don't want to play anymore," he whined.
I already had my hand in the good jar - literally - he must have been crazy if he thought I was going to give up his sweet ass without a fight. I had one chance to get this right.
I carefully angled and aimed my finger and pushed it as hard as I could into his defiant ass. My finger drove all the way in, up to the knuckle, and found its target. I'd found his spot. Reese gasped and quivered and the floodgates to his rectum opened up to me.
"Still want me to stop?" I asked, poking and tickling his sensitive prostate with the tip of my finger.
He wouldn't answer. His pride was on the line and he wasn't ready to admit that I'd proven him wrong so easily, but I already knew the truth. I felt the way his body trembled every time I nudged his cum gland; I heard his breathing grow heavier each time my finger slid out then back into his chute; I saw his hardening cock filling up the cup of his jock strap. Oh yeah, I knew.
I slipped another finger into his now greedy hole. He had no objections to this latest intrusion. In fact, his ass opened up very obediently to accept the second digit. By the time I got into a good rhythm sliding my fingers in and out of his tight hole, I was boned up and horny as hell. I reached down and unzipped my pants to release my angry beast from its prison. It was begging to be buried into Reese's murky depths, but it would have to settle for the tight grip of my fist instead. I stroked my pole, fantasizing that I was using it to open up Reese instead of my fingers.
Reese looked down to see what I was doing. "Good idea," he said, yanked his cock and balls out of the stretched jock pouch and started stroking it.
"Nice equipment," I commented, eyeing his hefty 7-inch cock and his huge, hairy nuts.
"Thanks," he said. "Not as nice as yours though."
I was surprised he would comment on the size of my dick - it turned me on just to hear him say it. I slid my fingers in extra deep to show my appreciation. In response, Reese grabbed his porker and started jacking it. His fat balls bounced back and forth in the wake of his pumping fist. I couldn't resist leaning forward to lick and suck them every time they dangled my way. First I'd get his hairy nuts wet with spit, and then I'd suck them dry. Reese pumped his dick faster and faster until his sac was slapping against my lips.
"Slow down, Tiger" I said, pulling my fingers out of his ass. "What's the rush?"
"It just feels so damn good," he said, still pulling on his sizable pud.
If I wanted this to last, I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. "Turn around," I commanded.
He turned around and almost put my eye out with his hard poker. I chuckled to let him know it was cool, helped him out of his jock strap, and then swallowed his substantial dick down my throat.
"Jesus!" he exclaimed when he felt his pole glide past my tonsils.
His body shuddered and his hips thrust forward to feed me more of his meat, which I gladly accepted. I tossed his tie over his shoulder and out of my way, and then started bobbing up and down on his dick. I concentrated on slurping up his cock for a while, letting him get the full effect of my expert deep-throating. I think, by his savage groans, that he really appreciated my skills. Once I was sure that he was pleased with his blowjob, I reintroduced my fingers to his neglected ass. The double-sided assault was enough to force a mighty roar out of the young mail clerk. He wasn't sure whether to keep thrusting his dick down my throat or to push his asshole back against my invading fingers. I steadied his hips with my free hand and doubled up my efforts to assure him that both ends would be properly taken care of.
After a few minutes of sucking and fingering, I felt Reese's hand wander down towards my probing fingers. Then, rather unexpectedly, I felt one of his fingers join mine in the tight confines of his virgin ass. Our fingers poked about inside his squishy innards in unison and stretched his hole to new limits - but it still wasn't enough. He crammed yet another one of his fingers into his greedy ass and started to toy with his hole feverishly.
I popped his dick out of my mouth and looked up at the randy, young pup. His eyes were closed and he was really getting into it. I don't even think he noticed or cared that I wasn't sucking his cock anymore - not as long as his ass was filled.
"So, you like how it feels, huh?" I asked.
"Fuck yeah!" he replied. He kept his eyes closed and his fingers never stopped poking his hole.
"You want something bigger?"
Reese moaned for a bit, still concentrating on fingering his horny hole. Suddenly, his eyes shot open when he realized what I was proposing. He looked down at my cock - which I was now slowly pumping again - and a look of panic spread across his face.
"Hell no! I'm not letting some dude fuck me!"
"Why not? You let a dude suck your dick and finger your ass. In fact, the dude's fingers are still up your ass and they've been joined by two of your own."
"I'm not gay!" he protested, yet he made no attempt to get away.
"No, you're not gay. but you obviously like what we've been doing so far. Why stop there?"
I dug deep into his bowels and stroked the spot that made all men weak. Reese was no exception. Without any further fuss, he pulled his fingers out of his hole, turned around, and silently offered his cherry ass to me. Normally, I'd ask him if he was sure, but there was no way in hell I was going to give him the chance to chicken out of letting me fuck him. Before he could change his mind, I spit on his slightly gaping hole and thoroughly coated his opening with my fingers. I spit on my dick a few times and got it nice and slick, then stood behind Reese and aimed my piston at his cylinder.
"This might hurt a bit," I warned before driving forward into his depths.
I hope you were paying attention before when I explained how good it feels to fuck a virgin ass (see Jake). Now take that sensation and multiply it by three and that's how good it felt sliding inside of Reese. The normal physical satisfaction of stretching open that stud's ass was amplified by the satisfaction of the conquest. Just a few short weeks ago, this boy was vehemently homophobic; just the thought of anything gay sent him into fits of hysteria. Now he had my ten-inch dick slowly sliding up his very tight, very sweet ass.
I lifted his shirt to get an unobstructed view of my pole burrowing into his hot tightness. I was so engrossed in penetrating his depths that I hadn't even thought about how he was taking it until I was completely buried within him.
"You alright?" I asked.
He nodded slowly. I could tell it hurt, but he was too macho to admit to it and he was too horny to ask me to stop. I did what any compassionate gay man would do in my situation - I fucked him. His ass was mine, it was exquisite, and I wasn't giving it up. He'd adjust soon enough, I figured. And he did. After a while, he spread his legs, arched his back and started backing up onto my thrusting cock. It was his way of asking for more without compromising his manliness - I was willing to play along and oblige his request.
I grabbed his shoulders and started fucking him harder. Reese whimpered each time my hips slapped against his bubble butt - both sounds were like music to my ears. He quickly learned how to open his ass to accept my dick as it rammed into him, and clamp down on it with his incredibly powerful muscles as it made its hasty exit. He milked my cock like a pro. All too soon, I felt the tingling in the pit of my groin announcing my pending orgasm.
I should have pulled out, but I didn't. I couldn't tear myself away. "Just a few more strokes," I said to myself but a few strokes became a few more and, before I knew it, I was exploding deep inside his bowels. It was a large load - about a month's worth of unreleased cum - shooting out with extreme force into Reese's unsuspecting ass. By the time he realized what was going, I had already dumped half a gallon of man-cream and was about to serve up the next half-gallon. He freaked out, as I suspected he would.
"Fuck! You came in my ass!" he shouted.
"Sorry, man, I couldn't help it. Your ass was just too good." He was too upset to appreciate the compliment so I offered him another form of comfort. "If it'll make you feel any better, I'll let you reciprocate."
I saw the gleam in his eye and knew that all of my transgressions had been forgiven. "Yeah?" he asked. I responded by undoing my pants and letting them fall to my feet. I waddled over to the table, yanked down my underwear and assumed the position. Reese didn't waste any time lubing up his pole and shoving it up my chute.
He fucked me with all the brashness and arrogance that one would expect from a straight jock. It wasn't the best fuck I'd ever had, but I knew how to make the best of it. And talk about stamina! Oh, to be young again. When he was done, he withdrew and we both collapsed on the floor in exhaustion. He immediately started feeling the guilt and anxiety associated with having just had his first man-to-man sexual encounter. I told him it was natural for some straight guys to want to experiment and that he was still the same young, pussy-chasing, hetero stud I'd met a few weeks ago. He seemed happy with my explanation. We got dressed and said our goodbyes. He even let me give him a little kiss on the lips.
The next morning, things were back to normal... for the most part. Reese came by to drop off the morning mail and engage in some stimulating conversation. He was a bit friendlier than normal, but otherwise acted like the same old boy jock that I knew and loved. Jake came in at the tail end of our conversation and must have noticed the subtle difference because, as soon as Reese left, he turned to me with an exasperated look on his face.
"You tagged him, didn't you?" he asked.
"Yep! Pay up, sucker," I answered, holding out my hand.
Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. "I don't know how you do it," he commented then reluctantly handed over the money.
"Sure you do," I said and gave him a knowing wink before he stormed out of my office.
Reese and I never fooled around again, but it didn't matter. I'd managed to win my bet with Jake and turn a homophobe into a friend. Now if only I could finish that budget.