White Collar Tales Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)
NOTE: The following contains graphic depictions of men having sex with men. If such material offends you or is inappropriate for your age, do not read further.
I've been feeling there aren't enough good stories (hell, not enough stories period) out there about white collar men. So I decided to start a new series of stories featuring hunks in suits and ties getting their rocks off. Should be a range or story types, with some shorter pieces as well as longer ones. Comments or story suggestions to billdrake@hotmail.com.
For more of my stories, check out the Authors page here at Nifty, or join my Yahoo Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/drakestories/
White Collar Tales #2 Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)
The Nineteenth Hole
Al Salvetti may be Executive Vice President of Marketing at one of the city's largest investment banks, but his golf game was lousy. I should know. As one of his top clients, the ad agency I worked for sent me every year to play with Al at their annual corporate golf tournament. Golfing with Salvetti was truthfully a bore - the hardest challenge was not playing TOO much better than the guy - but I didn't mind. Not only was Al the kind of guy most everyone liked, friendly in a nonstop joking, back-slapping kind of way, but the man was one hot example of gorgeous Italian beef. He'd shown up on the green wearing an official tournament dark-gray polo shirt, with the bank's logo and the tournament year as insignia on the left chest, tucked into his khakis. The knit shirt gripped bulging, straited lats and delts and in the front clung to two massive, round pectoral muscles that jutted forth from his torso and created a deep valley in between. Then there was the man's firm belly. His genes definitely didn't allow for a rippled, cut set of abs, but neither was the married daddy out of shape.
"Nice shot, Bill." Al was smiling at me with an expression showing that he was clearly impressed... but something else too. The man, mid-30s, was starting to thin at the hairline, and he kept the dark brown hair closely cropped all around. He'd been freshly shaved at the start of the day, but now was showing signs of a deep, dark stubble. Add to the picture clear green eyes and a pearl-white smile, and my dick was dripping in my trousers.
I looked him over with my trademark cool reserve. "Thanks, man. It looks like I may beat you again this year."
"Yeah," he laughed, showing off his bright, white smile. "You're too good, Drake." Yeah, Salvetti was a man hard not to like. We stood there right at the fucking tee-off, two full-grown men staring at each other. My legs spread so a thick club of cock could find room down my khakis. Al giving me that sexy smile of his. Finally, he spoke. "Only two more holes left. Wanna grab a drink after, Bill?"
I took a second to put my club back in the carrying bag, then turned back again to my golfing partner. I lifted my arm over and around his neck, placing it squarely on his powerful shoulder. I could feel the heat and strength through his knit shirt.
"Sure, guy," I replied. "A drink would be great." Then, dropping my voice, I added. "But I know what would be better."
Salvetti gave me a knowing smirk. "Like what?"
So the bastard wanted to be coy. I played along. "I was just thinking... you know, it might be fun to do like we did last time. I know I had a great time... Think you did too. Fuck, Al, I swore I saw you smiling for three months after."
Al looked up at me with his dark Italian good looks. Up close I could see the micro-stubble that spread across his chin and lower cheeks. And that perfect, masculine, fuckable mouth. "Still smiling, Drake."
I laughed. "You sure as hell are." I leaned down and placed my mouth at his ear. "Say, Al, when was the last time you got those big nuts of yours drained? "
His mouth curled up into a half-cocked grin, then he ran his tongue quickly across those fine lips of his. Looking around to make sure no one was in earshot, he then proudly answered. "Fucked the wife this morning. Nice, hard fuck... But I'm ready to go again, Bill. Been thinking about it all morning, man."
Fuck, we both were standing there, right on the goddamned green, our legs spread and our dicks growing and doing a good deal of our thinking for us. Men can be such shallow fucks sometimes. Guess that's why I like them.
Yeah, I could tell we wanted to rip off each other's clothing right then and there, but we knew better of course. Only two more holes left, anyway.
"Bet you have, stud," I laughed. "I bet you have." I dug my grip into his shoulder, feeling the firmness beneath the loose-fitting shirt. "Now get your mind on the fucking game," I teased. "Before I embarrass your sorry ass."
Al was too horny to be embarrassed about his golf game. This year we didn't waste much time with the post-game pleasantries. The man keeps a small efficiency apartment in the seaport area near the financial district, for those long evenings when it makes sense to stay in the city instead of commuting back to his suburban home. So we took a limo there from the country club. We were both relatively restrained the whole ride there, just sitting there, making occasional small talk with the driver, but mostly staring ahead or out the window.
Only halfway there, Salvetti let his left hand crawl along the seat separating our bodies. When it touched me, I spread my legs wider - fuck, I'd wanted this stud's hands on me for the last hour, I didn't know how much longer I could wait. Slowly, his hand felt along my thigh, taking time to caress and squeeze the muscle. I'd been hitting the legs pretty hard in my workouts lately and even without a word being spoken, I could sense Salvetti's appreciation of my hard, sculpted quad muscle.
But Al wanted to appreciate something more. I almost let out a gasp as his palm cupped my packed crotch. I swore I heard a moan escape his lips as he began to grip and knead my trapped cock and balls, all the while looking out the window like nothing was going on.
I had to look down. There was Salvetti's big paw, silver wedding band and all, feeling me up, making me hornier by the minute. I've never believed the rule that you can tell how a guy's hung by the size of his hand or length of his fingers. I've seen too many big cocks on men with short fingers and too many short, stubbly pricks on guys with big hands. But with Salvetti, it was pretty much a prefect indication. Those fingers were not only long, longer than average, but thick. And the coating of hair on the back of his hand reminded me that I had one fur-chested stud on my hands.
We got into his apartment and I watched his magnificent backside as he fumbles through his liquor cabinet. Even through his chinos, that fine ass stuck up high and proud. I imagined what it would be like to be Salvetti's wife and be able to grip those magnificent buttcheeks each night, feel them pumping away. My dick shot a mini-spray of horned-up business stud pre-cum in my own casual pants as my gaze traveled up the man's muscled back and to the freshly cut head of black hair. Stealthily, I sauntered up to my prey.
"What do you want to drink, Bill?" Al called out, unaware that I was inches behind him.
"The drink can wait," I muttered. My arms quickly circled his barrel chest and my hands cupped his beefy pecs, zeroing in on my desired targets. Al Salvetti had the biggest, most elastic, juiciest man-nipples I'd ever encountered. With a rough grip, I teased and prodded and pulled at the fuckers, til their big fat erect nips poked out, pushing his shirt up in obscene bumps that stick out even over the bumpy ridges of gym-toned muscle. I could see, cause my head was right next to his, looking over his shoulder. The man was groaning now and relaxed in my arms.
I turned my head slightly, not taking my eyes off his fine meaty torso, but putting my mouth closer to his ear. "What do you say, bud," I growled, "did I guess the magic word?" I tweaked his right nip once again, eliciting another moan.
His eyes were closed in pleasure, but a big shit-eating grin crossed his face as he replied. "Mmmh, Drake. You got it." I watched as his big, hairy hands zeroed in on his belt buckle and fumbled with the simple mechanism. Soon it was undone and Salvetti was attacking the button and zipper of his pants. Gently I licked at his neck while another pinch of his mantits sent his back arching and pushing into my chest.
I looked back down right as those khaki pants were falling to the floor. My buddy didn't bother with underpants. At least he hadn't that day. His nice, fat hardon stuck straight up from the hairiest crotch I'd seen. And beneath were two magnificent orbs of masculine power. Giant, low-hanging, hairy fuckers swaying in his ballsac. I'd have to inspect the man's family jewels later. Right now, I had one incredible ass offered up to me. Reluctantly, I withdrew my hands from his chest and reached under his shirt tail. I could feel the heat from his body and the silky-scratchy feel of his body hair running through my hands. For a married guy, Salvetti sure kept his body in fine, firm condition. There was a hint of padding around his waist, but otherwise the man was all muscle. And he loved every inch of my manual exploration.
I felt the striated contours of his back muscle, squeezing and caressing all the way down his lats til I reached his hard, round asscheeks. I gripped that sexy, macho butt, luxuriating in Salvetti's strength as he clenched his glutes in my hand. This guy really wanted it.
I leaned into him again. "Fuck, Salvetti," I said. "I've been looking at this all goddamn morning." Even his butt had a coating of dark hair, but that couldn't detract from the pale smoothness of his muscle cheeks.
"Yeah, man? You like it?"
"Goddamn perfect ass, Al." I shoved my hand right into the crevice of his crack. The heat was exquisite, and so was feeling Salvetti's bod shiver from head to toe. "You gonna let your buddy Bill take care of it today?" I ran roughshod over his exposed pucked with my thick, callused finger. Normally I might like to take things slow, get a guy nice and horned up before playing with his manhole. But Salvetti was on fire. I could feel the heat rising from his meaty frame and smell the testosterone emanating from his rough, hairy skin.
"Shit, yeah," the stud groaned. "That's why I brought you back here."
Eagerly, my index finger circled its way around the warm, moist hole. Each time I'd pass over the center, I'd give a little pressure, not enough to actually penetrate, but enough to send his raging hormones through the roof and make his hardon slap his firm belly.
"Yeah, that's why you brought me back here," I asserted cockily. Something about this hunky junior executive made me really love breaking him in. Using him. Maybe it was the fratboy smirk he never grew out of. Maybe it was seeing a man so hopelessly being led around by his balls. Maybe it was just that ass.
"Come with me," I ordered. Al lifted one leg at a time and stepped out of his khakis, which were bunched down around his ankles. He turned around, his overly stiff manshaft poking up good and proud, bobbing up and down in a testament to an uncontrollable lust welling deep inside him. Inside both of us.
This stud was now nude except for that grey knit shirt, his wedding band, and a silver Rolex on his left wrist. I reached up and pinched those huge nipples. Al lunged forward locking his lips on mine. I opened up but not without a fight, using my tongue to battle his. This guy was in overdrive, clawing and grabbing at the back of my shirt while his thrust his dick against my own excited crotch and ground his mouth against mine.
Slowly, I walked him back into the living area. I could smell his cologne mixed in the sweat from the golf course and the hot spring day. I took one last chance to grab Al's hairy ass before pushing him down onto the couch.
The man fell into a deep reclining position. He peeled off his shirt, revealing his marvelous barrel chest, powerful with muscle and dark with its thick hair. And I was able to see those red-brown nipples bared and poking up out of the matted fur. I looked up at Salvetti's face and was rewarded with that sexy fratboy grin. That, and the burning hunger in his green eyes.
His cock was almost red by now, it was strained to its maximum size and girth and stood up straight toward the ceiling under its own excitement. As I sized up Salvetti's hot bod, I took a moment to strip off my shirt, then my pants and boxers.
"Fuck, Drake," he whistled, staring at my hard, neglected cock. "Forgot how big you were. God, I just..."
His voice trailed off in mid-sentence. Or maybe I just couldn't hear the rest he said with his thighs locked on either side of my head as I bathed his low-hangers with my eager tongue. His grip was like a fucking nutcracker, and I had to use all my strength to pull apart his legs, exposing the furry trail leading down from his large testicles to his asscleft. I pushed up and wider apart until one prime, marketing exec butthole came into my view.
It was obscene and delicious at the same time - a puckered hairy hole spasming and pinching tight under my breath and careful inspection. I leaned forward and licked. The man's cunt entrance twitched in response as I eased back and enjoyed the show. I alternated the sensations, first breathing on his sensitive anal entrance, then teasing the perimeter before attacking with my tongue. Then back to a gentle lapping. Each time I rimmed Salvetti, his thighs came crushing down on me, urging me on. And his hole gave way, letting more of my tongue push forward. Hooking my hands under his legs and onto his quads, I pulled forward using all the leverage to drive more tongue up Salvetti's married butthole and drive the man wild.
"Damnit, Bill, don't fuckin' stop. Gonna shoot, buddy!"
Yeah, I remembered it all now. Salvetti was a good lay - no, a fucking great lay - but he never could give much warning. I pulled back and saw this Italian stud's torso covered in thick ropes of juicy white sperm. I grabbed his still-throbbing cock and squeezed it, coaxing more jism out over the head and down my fingers.
Good stuff. And if I knew Salvetti, he had more in him.
"Big load, man," I said.
He looked up at me, his forehead covered in sweat, his smiling beaming through the post-orgasmic haze. "Yeah." He swallowed and stretched his arms back in relaxation, giving me a view of his hairy armpits. "Thanks, Bill."
"Sure, bud. You got some lube?"
That smile widened. I stood back and watched this stud stand up, cum still fresh and dripping off him, and turn to go to the bedroom. Goddamn, that man had an ass on him.
"Follow me, Drake," he said, and I did.
We never did have that drink.