Marty pulled his gray vest in tighter, trying to keep out the chill October wind. He had just finished up an eight hour shift at work in the local convenience store and was looking to get home to relieve a little 'pressure.' Working with attractive but unattainable women all day was starting to grate on his calm. What's more, he had to take the brunt of frustration from a few hundred people looking to get their chocolate fix each day.
The instant he got home he planned to march straight up to his room, find some internet porn, and tease out a good load.
Even as he tried to distract himself, though, his thoughts couldn't help but wander to the skimpy paycheck he had tucked in his pocket; it would barely cover his back rent. He'd be eating ramen for another month, but at least he'd still have his apartment. He pulled it out and tore it open. Damn, it was even less than last month. Well, it would still cover rent. Just no fancy ramen. Just good, old-fashioned bread.
"Ouch. That hurts."
Marty turned around to see a tall, muscular man in a nice suit who had been reading his paycheck over his shoulder. "Pardon me?"
The man grinned, but didn't look contrite. "Sorry. It's just that I'm a financial planner, so seeing a paycheck like that hurts me on a personal and professional level."
Marty was about to retort with a biting remark, but the man cut him off. "Actually, I think I can help. My firm is actually holding a little event, asking people from all walks of life some pretty boring questions about money and lifestyle. The pay is pretty good -- 500 bucks for one night of free food and drinks, with a little bit of talking."
That stopped Marty dead. 500 bucks that easy? Any money that wasn't going straight to rent was a miracle! He didn't think twice before he agreed -- something he would regret a good deal later.
"My beamer's this way," said the mystery man with the ready smile. "The name's Roger, by the way."
-------------------------
An hour later and Roger was still driving them both through the country. Outside the BMW's very nice windows, an increasingly dark forest whizzed by.
Marty coughed politely. "I don't mean to look a gift horse in it's very nice mouth, but is it going to be much further? I wasn't really expecting it to take so long to get there."
"Actually, this is sort of a corporate retreat too -- they usually hold stuff like this a pretty decent distance from the city. Y'know, for a relaxed atmosphere."
That made sense. Marty'd heard of stuff like that, if not actually taken part in anything of the sort.
--------------------------
Half an hour later, Roger pulled the car up a a gravel driveway to a large dark house that seemed to be miles from anything.
"Huh. Everyone else must be out to dinner. Bad timing on our part, I guess," said Roger.
Marty nodded. At least he could get out of this car and stretch his legs. The huge house loomed ominously in front of him. With an odd premonition and a single gulp, Marty followed Roger into the house.
--------------------------
"Care for a drink?" asked Roger as he flipped on the lights, revealing a massive living room with hardwood floors and dark wood furniture that probably cost twice Marty's paycheck for each piece.
"Uh...sure. Whatever you got. I'm gonna use the restroom, if I can."
"Sure thing -- down that hallway, first door on your left."
When Marty came back, Roger was seated in a large, high-backed leather chair with a glass of bourbon in his hand. He gestured for Marty to sit on the large couch facing him, where another glass of bourbon rested on the endtable.
Silence dominated as the two sat there, Roger dimly backlit. Though Roger seemed absolutely calm, Marty couldn't help but shift and fidget. For some reason, as the warmth of the bourbon spread through his body, he couldn't help but think of what he would be doing if Roger hadn't approached him. Namely, jerking off his own hard cock. Watching the exquisite agony on Jenna Haze's face as she took a monster dick up her ass.
Roger broke the silence, and Marty's growing distraction. "Bet you could really use that 500 bucks, huh?"
Marty grunted. "Uh, yeah."
"Well, I actually have another way to make even more money, if you're interested."
Marty nodded quickly. "Oh yeah, absolutely."
"Great. Why don't you stand up and come over here real quick, then?"
Huh. There was something weird going on, but Marty couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe that drink was hitting him harder than he'd thought. He stood up and started towards Roger.
"Whoa there. Looks like someone else is poking their head in." Roger looked pointedly at Marty's crotch.
Marty flushed deep red as he saw his pants tented in front of him. He hadn't even noticed that all the thoughts about porn had achieved their normally intended results. He started to stammer an apology, but Roger waved him off.
"No shame, man. You were probably headed back to see your girlfriend and I interrupted it. I understand, I've been there."
An absurd gratitude flooded Marty, prompting him to blurt out that he didn't have a girlfriend. Roger raised an eyebrow and gestured him to continue over to him.
"Well, in that case, perhaps you would be interested in that thousand bucks afterall." Roger grabbed Marty's frayed tie, the only one he owned, and pulled the young man to his knees in front of him. Looking Marty directly in the eyes, a forceful gaze Marty couldn't tear his eyes from, he commanded him. "Take out my cock."
Marty froze. What the hell was going on? In a thousand years, he would never have expected to ever find himself in a situation like this. Never. "B-but...I'm not...y'know, I'm not..."
"Gay? Oh, I know. That's why this will be so much fun." Roger studied the twenty year-old's face for a moment, then decided something. "Here, how about this? I'll pay you in installments. Each time I ask you to do something, I'll pay you 100...no, 200 dollars, cash. You can stop whenever you like, keep the money, and I'll give you a ride back to your place. How's that sound?"
Actually, it didn't sound too terrible. Marty was rather secure in his sexuality. He could do...a little...and know it was just for the money. Which he really did need.
Roger pulled out two crisp 100 dollar bills. "Pull out my cock."
Marty gulped. His hands trembling a little, he reached up and undid Roger's trousers. The older man's eyes never left Marty's face; he seemed to be drinking in every little inner struggle and expression that crossed the youth's features. Marty closed his eyes and reached his hands through the slot in Roger's boxers, then gasped as he felt the semi-erect dick trapped there. It was hot, and even in that state felt huge.
Another gasp died in Marty's throat when he pulled the member free. He watched, enthralled, as the dick slowly straightened in front of him. Marty had a good-sized prick and he knew it -- he was an inch longer than average if Cosmo was to be believed -- but this...thing...was almost twice as long. And much thicker.
When it was finally erect, Marty looked back up to Roger. Roger made a show of putting the bills in Marty's free hand, then pulled two more out of a wallet that looked to be bulging. Were those all hundreds?
"Now," Roger slowly waived the money in front of Marty's nose. "Jerk me off."
Marty hesitated, then complied, slowly jacking the massive rod in front of him. Roger groaned and tilted his head back, but then shook his head clear and refocused his eyes on the face of the young man he was turning into a whore. He loved to watch their expressions, searching for the exact moment he broke them.
Marty seemed to have found a rhythm and gotten comfortable with masturbating another man. He looked away from Roger's intense glare, but the older man grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to make eye contact. "Don't you dare look away. You look me straight in my eyes, slut."
Marty whimpered and Roger released his hold. Another 200 were in his hand. "Now, slut, suck my. Big. Fat. Cock."
Something in Marty snapped as he took that money. Whatever reason, whatever designs on hetero-sexuality he had left fell away, and he lowered his wet mouth on giant cock in front of him. His first cock. Roger groaned and buried a hand in Marty's hair. The boy may not be experienced, but he was making up for it in enthusiasm.
"Ugh...I can't believe how-ug easy it was to turn you into a cocksucking whore."
Marty's eyes flashed. Roger smirked. "What, hard to argue being called a cocksucking whore with my 600 bucks in your pocket and my cock in your mouth?"
Marty tried to pull his mouth off the cock, but the hand on his head pushed him back down even deeper. "Oh no, bitch. You took my money, you stop when I'm ready." Which wasn't to be for a while. The minutes slipped by until over a half-hour had passed, but Roger seemed no closer to cumming. And now Marty was constantly worried that the rest of the retreat would walk in and find him with a mouthful of cock.
Finally, as Marty continued to bob away, Roger reached into his pocket and pulled out another couple of bills. Then he pulled Marty away from his cock with his other hand, revealing his massive, slobber-covered cock to be streaming copious amounts of pre-cum. Grinning as an idea occurred to him, he forced Marty's head back down and smeared the slick liquid all over his face, taking care to cover as much as possible. Pulling his head back up, he winked into Marty's shocked, shiny face and slapped the money onto his sticky forehead. "Now strip, whore."
Stiffly, Marty climbed to his feet. He pulled off his tie, then his shirt and undershirt. He looked away from Roger in shame as he started to unbutton his pants, until Roger piped up. "I told you never to take your eyes off me. For that, I want you to dance for me as you strip."
Marty was shocked, but at this point couldn't really even think to protest. Awkwardly, he began to dance, undulating his hips obscenely as he dropped his pants, then his boxers, revealing his own straining hardon. The grin was back on Roger's face. "Jerk off for me, boy."
