Deal Closer

We got into L.A. that night and CJ and I went straight to the hotel. I was exhausted after my in-flight service training. CJ had booked a suite with two separate bedrooms, so I went to my room after dinner, showered, and went straight to bed. I was laying there on the wide bed, on my back, staring at the ceiling and just about asleep, when CJ crept into the room, came up on the bed and sat on my thighs, his strong legs encasing mine.

"There was some terminology I didn't cover earlier that I thought you might want to become familiar with," he said, as he looked down into my eyes in the semidarkness.

"Oh, like what, Boss?" I asked, quite aware that he was already hard and I was quickly becoming so again.

"Well, for instance, this is what is called the 'double M,'" he said in a husky voice, as he took both of our cocks in a beefy hand and squeezed them together alongside each other. He then began a gentle stroking that slowly gathered rhythm. I sighed and ran my hands over his smooth chest and belly and played with his nipples. After several minutes, I sat up against him, took his head in my hands, and we engaged in some passionate, deep-tongue kissing, while he continued to double-stroke our cocks.

He didn't take us to climax, though. After a bit, he pushed me back down on the bed and came down with me, so that we were both on our side, with his butt cuddled into my belly.

"I could stay here all night, here with you," CJ whispered.

"You certainly can if you want to, CJ," I responded. "I wouldn't be displeased in the least."

CJ gave a contented sigh and pushed his butt further into the curve of my stomach. I was quite aware that my cock was running down the generous-sized crack between his butt cheeks."

"Craig," CJ said in a low voice after a few minutes. "Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. I want your cock in me. Just scoot your body down a bit. Yes, like that. I'll raise my leg up like this to give you entrance and you put your leg up like that. You're big and long enough. There, guide it to my ass and curl back up like . . . Ah, yes, that's it. Deeper. Deeper still. Oh, yes. God that's good. Now relax. Just do what's natural. Oh, Oh. Yes, yes. Oh, yes, good, you can reach my rod and balls. Ah, that feels so nice. You are a natural. You are so good. This, in case you wondered, is what we call side splitting. Come, give us a kiss."

After a gentle fuck ending in a shared release, we stayed that way, me inside CJ, until near dawn. I don't know for how long, really, because, when I awoke in the morning, CJ was gone and I briefly wondered if I'd imagined the whole previous day and night.

I had no idea I could be as brazen as I was the next day while we were reeling this Binggum guy in. But CJ had told me that we didn't have much time to turn the trick, and Binggum seemed pretty grouchy at first during our initial meeting with his full board. I guess, though, that was because he didn't really zero in on me until I had gotten up to give my short briefing late in the morning. CJ had been curious how I could dress to be noticed, and I told him that there wasn't really any problem in that department. I had brought what I called my party suit, which I had had tailored for cruising the bars when I'd wanted to pick up women. I saw no reason why it couldn't work as well on a man who was so inclined, and I was proved to be correct.

The suit was tailored of a fine, silky material that, nevertheless, followed just about every curve I had. The seat was basted in a bit to show the roundness and firmness of my butt, the legs fit closely to my well-muscled legs, and a close inspection of the crotch area would leave little doubt which side I "dressed" on. The pants rode quite low for dress slacks—and, in fact, would show a nice curl of pubic hair if I wasn't wearing a shirt. The shirt was of a fine, close-fitting satiny material as well, which did not completely hide the shadow of my dark chest hair and made no attempt to hide my nipples if they were erect. The coat was also cut to flatter how my full chest flared down to a small waist.

Binggum got his first whiff of the chase when I rose up behind CJ's chair when it was time for me to brief and I stood at the foot of the table near the slide show only long enough for Binggum to get me completely in his sights. I then walked back to stand beside him at the head of the table for much of my briefing. I could tell that he was hooked because of the thorough once-over he gave me while I was near the slide screen and by the way his eyes were glued to my crotch as I came over beside him. The definitely male musk cologne I was wearing couldn't have hurt. For most of my briefing, his eyes remained plastered to me rather than to the slides that were flipping at the front of the room.

Suddenly, Binggum became much more interested in CJ's proposal and he asked fewer questions. By mid afternoon, he seemed irritated if anyone else in the room dared to ask a penetrating or complex question, and he finally just waved all of his people away and said he wanted to discuss the final details with CJ "and his staff" alone. When the room had cleared, I gave a meaningful look at CJ and then turned to Binggum and asked if I could use the nearby men's room before we restarted the discussions. Binggum said that was a fine idea and that he'd also take a men's room break. CJ said he was just fine, thank you very much, and would set up the next part of the briefing while we were gone.

Binggum ushered me to a very plush executive washroom right next to the conference room. I went up to the bank of wash basins, while Binggum saddled up to a urinal. I was delighted to see that there were no barriers between the urinals.

"Oh, crap," I muttered. "Is that a coffee stain I see on my shirt?" I looked into the mirror and made like I saw some sort of blotch. Without another word, I took my coat off and hung it on a stall door. And then, turning three-quarters toward where Binggum was standing up to a urinal, his eyes glued to me, I slowly unbuttoned and peeled off my shirt and held it out to inspect it. I was fully aware that my biceps were rippling in the effort and that I was fully exposed down to a slight curl of pubic hair above my trousers.

I made a few clucking sounds and acted like I must just be wrong, that I couldn't find any coffee stains on my shirt. But, rather than put it back on, I draped it on top of my coat on the stall door and slowly walked toward Binggum. I approached the bank of urinals and, leaving two urinals between us, I moved in toward one—but not too close. I again turned a bit so that Binggum would get a full view of the action. I unzipped my tight pants and peeled them down onto my hips. My underwear of choice that day was a black net sock jock, which I proceeded to pull off of my long, thick dick and tuck up under my balls. As an added little ornament, I was wearing a black leather cock ring with silver studs at the base of my cock and balls. I thought Binggum was going to wet all over himself when he saw that. And then I sent a nice long piss arcing across considerable distance into the urinal, arching my hips toward the urinal and my finely muscled chest back, with my hands on my butt cheeks. I smiled, closed my eyes, and gave a satisfied little sigh. When I was done and had flicked my dick several times to prevent seepage, I put my tool away and slowly walked back over to the stall, faced Binggum, and redressed. I was completely brazen about the whole maneuver. Binggum couldn't help but have gotten the engraved invitation.

The subsequent private session between CJ, Binggum, and me could not have been shorter, and Binggum could not have been more accommodating and congenial. When the last verbal agreement had been settled, Binggum said his secretary could type up the deal we'd struck, and we could sign it over dinner, if CJ and I would be willing to have dinner with Binggum in his ocean-side house that evening. CJ and I, of course, thought this would be a splendid idea.

Binggum went on ahead in a big, white stretch limousine, while CJ and I waited for the contracts to be typed and copied. Before we left, I slipped off to the men's room and exchanged my white shirt, tie, and suit jacket for a billowy cotton pullover peasant's shirt with a deep slit down the front held together by a lacing and topped by a black leather vest. The shirt was opaque enough to show off my tanned chest and the tufts of hair that wound down from my neck, out and around my nipples, and then back together and down to my crotch. I then laced a pair of soft, black-leather chaps over my pants, brushed my teeth and my hair, and headed for the door.

While we were being driven over to Binggum's house in a black limousine with smoked windows, CJ couldn't resist doing a little bit of exploring of my body of his own with his hands and his lips, but he broke off before anything serious happened, as we both agreed that I had to be "up" exclusively for Binggum—at least until the contracts had been signed.

Binggum met us at the door himself in a loosely fitting cotton lounge suit, and I was pleased to see his crotch tent out as soon as he saw me come through the door. We went into a large lounge area overlooking a nicely landscaped patio and pool, as well as the ocean. I sank into a mile-long sectional sofa facing the view. Immediately after we had been served the drink of our choice, CJ asked if there was somewhere he could change into something more casual, and Binggum fell all over himself helping CJ out of the room. That accomplished, Binggum scurried back, planted himself nearly on top of me, wrapped one arm around my shoulder, turned my head toward his with that hand, and looked pleadingly into my eyes.

"I've been waiting to get you alone like this all day," he chirped.

"I've been looking forward to it myself," I said and gave him a million-dollar smile.

He moved his lips into mine, and ran his fingers into my hair, holding my head in place. My lips met his in a sweet kiss that became increasingly deep and crushing. I opened my lips to him and let his tongue in. I could feel his free hand on my chest, over a nipple, and then it slid through the lacings of my shirt front, snaked through my chest hair, and found my other nipple. I felt his body shudder at the ecstasy of finally making skin-on-skin contact—as if before that moment I hadn't been real. I took the initiative and forced his tongue out of my mouth with mine, and I invaded his inner space, probing. He shuddered again, and his free hand exited my shirt front and moved down to my crotch. He couldn't get all that much satisfaction there other than to get my measure, because the leather pants held my dick tightly in place. But he'd already seen the goods, so there weren't many surprises for him to have there short of finding out how far into a couple of his orifices it could go.

I moved up on my hip toward him, crossed with the arm he didn't have locked in his embrace, and went directly for that tent he'd shown at the door in those loose cotton pants. I encased his engorging dick through his pants in my hand with a firm, authoritative grip and was pleased to find that he was fairly long and thick. He broke away from my lips with a little cry and looked deeply into my eyes with an expression of ecstasy and longing. He started fiddling with my belt buckle, but I took my hand away from his penis and gently pulled his hand away from what he was trying to do.

"No, not that. Not yet. That's the main course, and that comes after dinner is eaten and the contracts are signed, not before."

He gave me a disappointed look and started to speak, but I put my finger to his lips, and said, "That doesn't mean there isn't an appetizer, though. Just relax and give me full control."

Then turning more toward him, I gently pushed him down on his back along the sectional, scooted up on the edge of the couch, and lifted his right leg up and over my head until it rested between my left side and the back of the sectional. His other leg was trailing down on the floor in front of my knees and his crotch was open to me. I gently pulled the tail of his shirt out of his pants, and, while I lowered my mouth onto the top of his dick as it pushed at the fabric of his pants, I ran my hands under his shirt tail and up the sides of his well-toned torso, placing one hand over each of his nipples. I gently flicked at these with my fingers.

Binggum was giving little sighing sounds and moans and was moving his arms around over his face and down along my arms on top of his shirt as if he very much wanted to do something but couldn't quite figure out what that was. I slowly gave him head through the cotton pants. He tried to move both of his legs, but I had one leg pinned against the back of the sofa and lifted my right leg over his other leg and then pinned that between both of mine. I could feel him starting to want to raise his torso, but I applied more pressure with my hands on his nipples, moved my hands up to his armpits, with my thumbs pressing below his shoulder blades, and, taking my mouth from his crotch, whispered. "I said relax. Just let me control. I'm just showing you the advantages of working with our firm." Binggum lay back then, with a sigh, fully prepared to work with me now.