White Collar Tales Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)
WARNING: The following is for adults only. It contains depiction of sexual acts between men. If this offends you or is inappropriate for you to read, go no further. This is fiction. In reality, protect yourself.
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White Collar Tales #21 Executive Bait
A lot of the times I don't know anything about the guys I sleep with: only a first name, and sometimes not even that. But Anthony Walker I knew right away. Not in person, but by his reputation. He was Chief Financial Officer of a Fortune 500 insurance company that happened to be one of the bigger firms in my city. He was part of my Fuck Book in fact.
The Fuck Book isn't a catalog of the men I've bedded. It's a collection of pictures I've pulled from the newspapers, magazines and business press. See, I've got a thing for men in upper management. Guys with an easygoing authority. Guys with perfectly tailored suits and always-polished shoes. Guys who have fought their way to the top and are now used to getting their way.
It's a little fucked up but ever since my B-school days I've been collecting PR pictures of my dream guys. Middle-aged and older, from full of hair to balding guys, they all turn me on. The power, the position, the suits. Anthony Walker, CFO, was my latest dream-cum-true.
By now I had his bio memorized. Cornell educated, MBA from Sloan, worked his way up the management ranks at a manufacturing company before moving into finance and then insurance as a maverick thinker. I had his stats memorized too: 46, roughly 6 foot 3, I'd guess 195 pounds of lean muscle, dark brown hair with flecks of silver, strong jaw line. The only thing that worked against the picture perfect profile of a top executive were his dimples, a hint of jokey suburban dad in an otherwise serious face.
I'm the perfect fuck buddy for executives and upper management types. For starters, I'm one of them. Not an exec, but a CFA working in the ranks of finance. I have my Wharton degree and speak their language. These guys live in fear of gold diggers and money grabbers, and when they know that I'm just after cock, it puts them at ease. More than one of these men has let their guard down with me.
It helps that I have a terrific body. Reason Number Two I'm successful. My life is work, work, and gym, in that order of priority. No happy hour drinks with my buddies, no time on the dating scene. It can make for a lonely life, but I want my body to be a temple. And every adultering exec I've ever met has been appreciative of it.
Like now. Walker is circling his arms around as he hovers close on my back. I'm fumbling with my condo keys, now feeling distracted by his presence next to me: his warmth, his cologne, the fabric of his suit against my wrist as he pulls my hands up and pins my arms to the wall. I have a lot of body strength, but so does he, a man a good 15 years older than me. Besides, I don't put up a struggle. This is what I crave: the content feeling of possession.
The executive is kissing my neck and nibbling at my ear as he humps his suited erection into my butt. "How long you got for lunch, Jeff?"
"An hour," I murmur, suddenly wishing I had longer.
"I wanna fuck you today. Think you'd be up for that?" It was only our third tryst, and in our previous times I'd only sucked Walker off.
"Yeah. I want you in me, man."
He backed off, smiling a victorious smile. He was liking this cat and mouse game we'd been playing the last month, ever since we were introduced at a fundraiser.
Not wanting the moment to disappear I quickly unlocked the door and ushered the financial officer inside.
This was Reason Number Three I was able to snag so much executive cock. I had a nice loft condo right in the financial district. Well enough furnished that men would know I had means enough to take care of myself but otherwise a spartan, masculine bachelor living space. Big screen TV, sports memorabilia, leather furniture.
Walker didn't take time to admire the decor or the view, however. We went straight to the bedroom, where we kissed and hungrily stripped off each other's suits. This was my favorite part of the sex admittedly, and as hurried as we were, I savored every touch of his suit fabric in my fingers.
We don't talk much. That was Reason Number Four. A lot of gay guys I've talked to think that these businessmen just want to treat the bedroom like the boardroom and boss guys around in the sack. That couldn't be further from the case. These man are "on" all day and the last thing they want to do is have to talk more. They just want to unload their balls and maybe get some man on man contact. Sometimes my fuckbuddies say thank you or compliment me after we're done, but half of the time they just clean up, get dressed and are out the door without so much as a word. And I'm fine with that. I've got what I wanted.
So I've become expert at nonverbal communication. I'm on my back in my bed as Anthony Walker stretches his nude body on time of me, his leaky hardon rubbing my abs. We hump and make out for a while till we know we're ready. The man pulls back and looks down on me hungrily, silently telling me he's got to get inside me and soon.
"You got a rubber?" he asks.
I reach over in the bedside table and pull out some lube. Walker won't need one of the Magnums but that's OK, his dick is plenty big enough. I toss him a regular-sized condom.
"That's if you want," I say. "I'm clean and I know you are. You can go bare if you prefer. Up to you."
I can see him battling his inner desires. "I believe you," he says finally. "Better be safe, though." He snaps on the rubber and slicks up.
He doesn't rush the penetration but doesn't go slow either. He's worked up and luckily so am I. Pretty soon, I'm officially fucked by one of the city's highest paid executives. One of the guys in my Fuck Book. I have to let go of my cock to stem my orgasm.
He laughs a little at how primed I am, but soon he's absorbed in his own satisfaction, in fucking me. I don't know how often this middle aged stud fucks men, but I get the sense it's not as often as he'd like. He's clearly loving every minute of this, every centimeter of my rectum, as he pounds in and out.
He kisses me deeply then pulls back. Gripping my ankles, he holds my legs wide and fucks in harder and heavier. Then pulls back. His cock clearing the gates of my hole and quivering in place at the entrance. Pausing a second, he makes me wonder what's going on. Then he reaches down and peels off the condom.
"You sure it's OK?"
"100%" I answer.
Walker is back in me in an instant, and the new sensations make him groan. "Fuck!" This man deserves a primo fuck, and I'm glad I'm the one who can give to him. He's not quick to get his trigger, and I'm glad I'm able to really enjoy this.
"You holding back little buddy?" Walker asks. I get it now. He's waiting for me to blow too. I'm used to men focused on letting off steam, I'm taken off guard by this one's interest in my orgasm. That and turned on.
I nod. Acknowledge what he was asking me. Letting him know I'm gonna get off too. He smiles a devlish smile. And fucks me, his cock driving in harder this time. He's gonna go for his nut, and I am too.
We climb that mountain together, in sync. Till he's assaulting my ass and telling me he's not gonna pull out. Cause he knows it isn't even a question.
I shoot. High and hard, I shoot. All over my all over the bed sheets, just as Walker seeds my hole with his executive sperm. Our cums simultaneous. A first for me.
Finally Walker's dick softens and plops out of my ass. He gives me a light, appreciative pat on my stomach. "Oh man, that was hot, little buddy." From anyone else his nickname for me would sound corny but at the moment nothing seems to fit me better. "You got a shower?"
"Yeah," I answer, showing him the bathroom and towels.
It's the last words we speak to each other that day, but later on I get a text from him. "Thanks again. Maybe we can meet again next week."