Yellow Tea

My ruminations are interrupted by a knock on my door. I had closed it, something I rarely do, closed doors arouse suspicion, but today I needed some quiet time to think over my next steps. I'm surprised to see Mitch. I had assumed he'd keep his distance, pretend nothing happened.

"Stan, got a minute?"

"Sure, come in. Have a seat."

This time I move from behind the desk and take a seat on the settee. Mitch pauses, asks if he should close the door. I tell him it's his choice. He closes the door. He hesitates and then sits in one of the chairs opposite the small glass table in front of the settee.

"What's on your mind Mitch?"

"About last night," he offers.

I simply stare at him for a moment before replying, "What about it, Mitch?"

"I didn't mean to piss you off."

"Did I seem angry?"

"No, but I know you wanted , uh you know, more."

"I do know but I'm a fan of the Stones. Are you a fan of the Stones Mitch?"

He shakes his head.

"Too bad kid. I understand that I can't always get what I want."

"So we're okay then? I mean work-wise. I think I've been doing a good job. I don't want this to jeopardize my recommendation."

"Thinking you've only been doing a 'good' job is a bigger threat to that than anything else. 'Good' is rarely sufficient. You've been doing an outstanding job. Don't be bashful about acknowledging it." I regard him carefully as I ask my next question. "Do you think I'm the sort of person who would hold something personal against you in the context of your work?"

"Well, you've shown you can be ruthless. I'm thinking of Bob now. I think if you could use this to your advantage you would. However, I don't see any obvious advantage to you."

I nod, pleased. "Excellent. You're right I would and you're also right there is no advantage to me. Why do you think I didn't pushed you, at least not too much, last night?"

He shrugs and I frown, disappointed.

"I value your work here. I need you focused. If I pushed too hard you'd either leave or be too distracted to do your best work. That disadvantages me. My personal desires are, for the most part, secondary. Understand?"

He nods and rises. He pauses beside the chair. "Did you really not take a shower?"

"I did this morning, not last night. I sleep well, reeking of your piss."

He's starts at the blunt nature of my reply and shakes his head. I push a little further.

"Not even the pain in my ass kept me from sleeping like a lamb. Want to see your handiwork?"

Before he can answer, I turn and drop my trousers. It's a risk. My door doesn't lock. I hear Mitch gasp. I'm not surprised. This morning I took pleasure at the sight of the punctate bruises the studs left on my ass. When I turn back, my cock is hard. Mitch's face looks concerned but I see a bulge in his trousers.

"I did that?"

"Who else? Don't be distressed. You did as I wished." Despite my early claim that I do not let the personal threaten the professional, such is not always the case.

"Unzip your trousers, Mitch," I state as I refasten my own. He stares at me blankly. "Go on. I think part of you wants to. Satisfy that part. You'll need to at some point. Either you'll like what I do to you or you won't, but at least you'll know. It won't keep you awake any longer. Unlike me, you slept poorly did you not?"

He nods.

"Unzip your pants Mitch. Take out your cock for me. Right here. Do it." He hesitates. "Would you rather I do it? Would that be easier?"

He shakes his head and reaches for his zipper. He unzips his trousers, unbuttons his boxers, and fishes inside with two fingers. His cock is half-hard when he frees it. I drop to my knees and before he can react, I take his cock into my mouth.

He isn't hard yet and I can easily take the entire length into my mouth. I savor that slightly salty taste of cock. It may be my favorite taste in the world.. Despite what Penthouse Forum would have you believe cum does not taste salty. It is not his precum I taste but the taste of sweat. His crotch doesn't smell. It isn't even noon yet but like anyone wearing underwear and trousers, he has perspired. I gently free his balls from the snare of his zipper while I moll his cock in my mouth. I tug at it gently, lapping the undershaft with my tongue as he grows hard.

I much prefer to feel a cock grow hard in my mouth as opposed to sucking one already standing at attention. As it lengthens, I allow it to slip deeper into my throat. When his cock is finally velvet covered iron, I pull my mouth away and do what I've longed to do since catching a glimpse of his cock at the urinal weeks ago. I run my tongue under his foreskin. Heaven. His precum has gathered there and I wick it away with my tongue into my hungry mouth. I feel him tense but he remains quiet. He as cognizant as I that only a thin wall and door separate us from our co-workers. It's a foolish risk but oh my how it sharpens the senses.

Mitch is not a kid but he's not all that experienced, either. It is just as well. This is not the place for a long drawn out sucking of a cock. I can feel he is on a hair-trigger. I deep throat him and begin to caress him with my throat muscles, a soundless ululation of lust. I massage his heavy balls. When his hips begin to jerk, I pull my mouth back. I want to taste his cum not have it ejaculated straight into my gullet. My mouth fills immediately with his seed. I swallow, knowing I'll have time to savor the taste that lingers on my tongue and teeth. My mouth fills a second and then a third time before his eruption fades. The entire time, his hips have been bucking against my face.

I sit back on my heels. I let his cock slip from my mouth. I wait until his eyes are on me before grasping the head of his cock and squeezing. Several drops of his semen land on my tie. I stand.

"Better hurry up, Mitch. We'll be late." I point to the clock on the wall above the settee. It reads 10:58. We have a section meeting in two minutes. My trousers bulge. He looks panicked as he stuffs his cock and balls back into his underwear and into his pants. He's zipping up as I grab my notebook and pen off my desk.

He points to my tie. I shrug and open the door.

We're the last two to enter the conference room. Section meetings, not departmental meetings are where the work really gets done. As I pull up a seat, Bill points at my tie.

"Stan, you got something on your tie buddy," he announces.

I look down, pretending to be surprised.

"Damn. Yogurt," I tell Bill as I swipe the offending drops off and lick my finger. I can feel Mitch's eyes on the side of my face.

Bill asks what we think of Bob's plan. We sit, silent. After what I deem a reasonable amount of time, I offer that I have concerns. Bill asks what specifically. I tell him. He asks why I didn't say anything at the meeting yesterday or earlier. "I needed more time to work through the problem, didn't want to cause undue alarm," I tell him. I let him ponder that before telling him I think I know a solution. The meeting breaks up. I ask Mitch to meet me in my office in ten. Bill asks me to stay a moment. When we are alone, he asks me for the real reason I didn't speak up. I tell him I think Bob needs to go and he needs to take his place and I think this is likely to result in that, though I want to make sure the company is as protected as possible. He asks who I think should take his position.

"Me, of course," is my reply. I leave him looking thoughtful.

I leave my door open. Mitch taps on the frame and sticks his head in.

"I'd like to work the plan I presented to Bill. Do you have time to come to my place tonight?"

"Sure, boss," he replies. I don't correct him.

---

He does not appear to be surprised when I open the door without any clothes.

I step aside, close the door and look at the ground but do not speak, waiting to see if he understands.

"Suck my cock again," he orders. I hope my downturned head hides my smile.

I unzip his pants and carefully pull his cock out. I'm inordinately happy to see it is only just starting to get hard. I take it in my mouth. I push my nose into the thick mat of hair framed in the brass teeth of his zipper and inhale the rich musk of a cock and hair that has been coated in cum and spit and left to stew most of the day. He gets hard in my mouth, more quickly this time.

"Lick under my hood," he commands and I obey, happily.

I suck him awhile longer.

"You want me to fuck you in the ass, don't you?"

I pull my mouth off his cock.

"Yes, sir."

"Bend over the couch."

"You'll need some lube sir," I tell him. I doubt he'd be willing to lube me with his own spit.

"Get it," he orders. I scramble to my feet and hurry to the bedroom, hurry back, and offer him the bottle, eyes downturned as if he were a god I was offering a sacrifice to.

I obey.

"Spread your ass."

I obey.

"This is what you want isn't it, pussy? You want a man's cock up your ass, don't you?"

"Ye..."

"Shut up. I don't care what you want. I'm going to fuck you. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

I feel cold liquid run down the crack of my ass. He drops the bottle and presses the head of his cock against my asshole. He is not gentle. He pushes. My ass opens and he shoves his cock in deep enough that the metal of his zipper scratches my skin. He fucks me hard and fast. My condo reverberates to the sound of flesh on flesh. The couch begins to skitter across the floor as he slams into my body.

Suddenly, his cock leaves me. One hand grabs my shoulder.

"Turn around," he snaps.

I do. He thrusts his cock toward my mouth. I had hoped for this and was prepared. My ass was as clean as humanly possible. Still, I was about to let this kid shove the cock he'd just had in my ass into my mouth. He doesn't, though. He holds the head in front of my trembling lips and unloads on my face and in my mouth. I manage a few quick sucks on the head before he pulls away.

He stares at me.

"You still want to suck my cock? After that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Jesus," he shakes his head. His face sets. His fingers twist in my hair as he jerks my head forward.

"Suck it then, you cock sucking pussy fag. Suck it."

I do so, happily. There is a slightly bitter undertone to the taste of his cock but no worse than an Indian Pale Ale.

He is half hard by the time he pulls away.

"In the bathroom," he orders. I obey.

"Does sir need to piss?" I ask.

"Yes, sir needs to piss. Open your mouth."

"I'm happy to do as ordered but would sir care to piss in my ass?"

He looks confused.

"Sir's cock is hard enough. Put the head in my ass and piss. If sir wishes, of course."

"Put your fucking hands on the wall then, you fucking whacked out pussy."

I do as instructed. I feel his cock push pass my sphincter. It takes a moment then I feel my bowels fill with his hot piss. I swallow a moan of pleasure. As was the case last night, he pisses forever. I clench my sphincter around his cock, still some of his piss leaks and splatters to the floor.

"Goddamn it," Mitch hollers. "You got it on my shoes." He jerks out and the last of his piss pours over the backs of my legs.

I quickly turn, drop to my hands and knees and begin to lick the toes of his shoes. For the record, I would never lick the bottom of anyone's shoes. Gross!

When I finish, being in the neighborhood and all, I took his cock back in my mouth. Even for a twenty-something, it's a little soon to expect a full recovery. I mouth his soft cock, tugging at the foreskin with my lips, while all the while my guts were cramping under the strain of holding in what feels like a gallon of hot piss. I'm pleased to note he doesn't pull away. He stands, letting me suck and lick his cock.

A particularly intense cramp wracks my gut. I have to pause for a moment. I feel sweat pop out on my forehead.

"You okay?" Mitch's voice is normal, concern. The tone of command is gone.

"Yeah, but I can't hold it much longer," I use the same conversational tone.

"Hold it?" His confusion and naiveté is charming.

"You gave me an enema kid. It was a piss enema but an enema nonetheless," I explain, watching his face for evidence of disgust. I see none.

"You meant you need to take a shit?"

"No. I did that long before you arrived. All I need to do is get rid of the piss you filled my guts with."

He looks at me, his head cocked with the same look I would expect to see if he was examining a new spec sheet.

"So, go already," he says starting to turn away. I guess to give me privacy. I don't need it.

I relax my sphincter. He jumps at the sound of water splashing. There is no stink, just the smell of piss. And there is nothing but water.

"Jesus, Stan, I didn't think you'd do it right here in the fucking shower."

"Is sir displeased?"

"No more sir shit tonight okay? I'm all fucking sir'ed out. Christ."

I climb to my feet. "Sure. Why don't you undress and hop in? I give a helluva shower massage."

He looks so fucking young when he's unsure. It's hard to believe I'm only ten years old than him. I feel closer to forty-two than thirty-two sometimes. Ten years in corporate America can age you, if you survive anyway.

"Stan, I told you dude. I'm not gay."

"Did I say you were? You only get massages from women? I'm offering you a shower and a massage."

"I've never had a massage, from anyone, not a real massage anyway."

"I'll add it to the list. Get undressed. I'll rinse out the shower."

I turn the shower head toward the wall and turn on the water. I hate getting sprayed with cold water. I'll have to add that to my list of possible punishments. As the water warms, I pull the shower head free and rinse off the floor. I try not to stare but it is hard not to as Mitch undresses, carefully folds his clothes, and stacks them on one end of the lavatory counter. I appreciate anew how gorgeous he is. I tell myself to be careful here.

He steps in and I step aside.

"Adjust the water how you like it." When he's satisfied with the water temperature, I ask him to wet his body. As he does, I squirt a dollop of face scrub into one palm.

"Step out of the water and close your eyes Mitch."

He does and, using the fingertips of one hand, begin to wash his face with the scrub. I feel his body relax under my touch. "Keep your eyes closed," I warn and tip his head back so that the warm water flows over his face. I rinse the scrub off my hands, tilt his head from under the water, and wipe his closed eyes gently with my thumbs.

I shampoo his hair, rinse it, and massage conditioner into his hair. I massage his scalp, the back of his neck, and the top of his shoulders as I do. His breathing slows. I rinse the conditioner out and ask him to make sure there is none in his eyes.

As he puts his face under the shower, I get a loofah soapy with shower gel. The scent of sandalwood fills the shower. I turn him and start with his back. I make slow soft circles on his back and work down to his ass, resisting the urge to bury my face in his ass. I do manage to get a brief whiff of his man scent before it's overwhelmed with aroma of sandalwood. I wash his legs and then turn him to face me.

I resist the urge to smell his ass but his pits are too much. I raise his right arm and nuzzle the hair with my nose but all I smell is deodorant. I wash him, spending long minutes on his chest. I set the loofah aside and wash his cock and balls with my sudsy hands, careful not to get soap in his meatus. I use the loofah on his legs and feet. I final rinse and I'm done. His cock had gotten hard beneath my soapy hands. It is still hard.

"I'll dry you in a sec. Let me shower quick okay?" He nods.

I step under the shower and soap up. My cock juts toward the ceiling. When I turn to rinse, Mitch asks, "Is your ass still sore?"

"Yeah, but that was the point. Don't worry about it."

"I really bruised you," I can hardly hear his soft voice over the sound of the shower. "I think you even have a couple of blisters."

I jump a little when his hand touches my ass.

Mitch jumps even more and starts apologizing. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Dude, relax you didn't. I wasn't expecting you to touch me that's all."

I see the question in his eyes and nod. I turn off the shower and put my hands against the wall, ass out. His hands begin to rub across my ass.

"Does that hurt?"

I shake my head. "Not at all, it feels fantastic, actually." I assure him.

"It felt better than I expected, earlier, fucking you in the ass. I didn't expect it to feel that good."

"Why not?"

"I've never done that before, even with a girl."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." I pause. "Do you want to do it again?" I ask, looking at him over my shoulder. His eyes meet mine.

"Yes," he whispers.

"Come on then."

--

We dry off quickly and I lead him to my room.

"Do you mind if I'm on my back this time? I'd like to watch your face while you fuck me."

"Can we do it that way?" He has that confused little boy look on his face again. Damn it.

"Sure, come on I'll show you."

I lie on my back in the bed and stretch to get a small tube of lube out of the bedside table. I thumb open the cap.

"You want me to do it Mitch?"

He stares at me for a moment then holds out his hand. I hand him the tube. He squirts some on his fingers. I pull my knees up to my sides and his fingers begin to rub the lube over my pucker. When he presses, I press back and a finger slips past my sphincter. He rotates his finger in and out a few times before squirting some more of the lube on his cock. He walks on his knees toward me, steadies his cock with his right hand, pushes, and is inside me.

He doesn't ram into me this time. He slides in slowly, stopping to appreciate the sensation. Once he's buried in my ass, he leans his shoulders into my upraised legs.

"See," I tell him. "Just like with a chick."

He shakes his head. "Not really. Your ass feels totally different than any pussy."

I smile at my youthful demi-god. "Fuck me, Mitch. It's okay."

He moves slowly at first but picks up speed. He's already cum twice today. It takes much longer, which is fine with me. I tighten my ass muscles around his cock. His weight gradually pushes my legs toward my chest. His face is very close to mine. I let him decide. This is not something I can push but when he kisses me, I let him. He's too spent for me to feel his cum in my ass but I do feel his cock swell and twitch. He holds his breath, lips still pressed against mine. I ease my legs down. His body lies atop mine. I rub the backs of his shoulders as his cock softens and slips from my ass. I feel a small trickle follow.

At some point, he slides off me and lies along my side and we sleep.

========

LarryInSeattle and I disagreed slightly over the use of the word ululation. I felt it helped to establish that Stan was a bit of a putz underneath it all. Plus, I decided I liked the alliteration of the l's with 'lust', though I worried it was a bit much.

I rarely reject Larry's advice so I'm curious if, as usual, I was mistaken to decline his suggestion.

Comments welcome.

Peace out.