Higballing

If the CEO of my company hadn't seen me recently in that gay bar over on 12th and Madison, I don't know how long it would have taken me to get invited to the executive floor. But Pete Peterson had seen me, and there I was, in his conference room, sitting in a second-row position in the weekly executive meeting.

I'd been surprised, but pleasantly so, to see Peterson in the bar. He was one of those young, charging CEOs who took real good care of himself and whose movie-star looks popped out of the eminently eligible bachelor stories in the Sunday paper. I'd seen him working out in the office gym over the past several months and had found him to be quite a tasty package. I'd observed him looking me over there, too, but until our across-the-room mutual sighting at Rockies, I'd assumed he had been assessing my management potential—or just wondering who the hell I was and where I fit into his business empire. Now, I thought maybe something else had been going through his mind.

It was a long meeting, I had to take a piss pretty badly when it finally broke up. I asked the man next to me where the men's room was on this floor, and, having overheard me, Peterson chimed in that I was welcome to use the executive rest room just down the hall from the conference room.

This was quite a snazzy room, all brown marble and expensive fixtures, and mirrors everywhere, including over the two urinals. There was even a convenient place for me to hang my suit coat. I did that and then quickly moved over to the urinal, unzipped my tight-fitting pants, pushed my ultra briefs down to under my balls, and sighed a great sigh, as I let loose with a strong and steady stream into the urinal.

I heard the door open and then the click of a lock, which I thought was a little strange, and, although I expected to have one of the executives belly up to the urinal beside me, I was surprised to feel someone right behind me. Before I could turn around, which would have been a little awkward because I was still pissing out a steady stream, in the mirror I saw Pete Peterson's well-chiseled face appear over my shoulder and heard him speak in a low, husky voice. "Here, let me help you with that."

He came up right against me in back and reached around with his right hand and took my dong in his hand. I could feel his intake of breath when he got the measure of me. His left hand came around and rested on my tightening stomach. I felt myself go a little weak in the knees and reached out with both hands to steady myself against the wall. I looked into the mirror and let my eyes be captured by his. He gave me a movie-star smile of assurance.

I had finished my business, and he shook the last drops into the urinal, but he kept his hand wrapped around my penis, which was steadily growing. "Nice," he whispered in my ear, "Very nice. Bigger than I had thought. That's very nice." He reached down with his left hand and cuddled my balls for a brief moment, and then he moved his hand up my stomach, under my shirt, and found my right nipple and played with that and in my chest hair.

I gasped as the fingers of his right hand went to the tip of my dick and he lightly ran them around the rim of my glans and then put a finger over my piss slit and applied a gentle pressure. He was nibbling on my ear, and I pulled my right arm away from the wall and wrapped it around his head so that I could run my fingers into his hair. I turned my head and found his mouth in a searching kiss. He began to stroke my cock, and I felt my knees go weak again.

His left hand left its exploration of my chest, and I heard the sound of a belt being undone and a zipper being lowered. I then felt my pants and briefs being pulled off my butt, and my pants hit the floor. We were still kissing and he was still stroking my cock, and now his other hand was wandering all over my butt cheeks. He gave a sound of animal pleasure, and broke away from the kiss long enough to whisper, "What a great, round butt. I love good, round butts."

I could feel his engorging penis pressing at my butt, working its way into my crack, and I began to spread my legs to receive him, when he pulled back a little and stopped stroking my cock.

"My limo will be down on the street in fifteen minutes to take me to my country home for the night. May I assume you would be willing to be my guest there for tonight?"

That was a good assumption.

A few minutes later, I was down on the street in front of our office building, where I found a stretch limousine and a big, black, bald body-builder driver holding the back door open. He gave me a smile and motioned toward the door with his head. I only had time enough to register that the back of limousine was roomy and plush, burgundy velour with wood paneling, and some pretty hefty throw pillows around, when Pete Peterson entered the limo and plopped down beside me. The door closed with a good solid sound, and Peterson informed me, with a proud grin, that we could see out of the smoked windows, but no one could see in—including the window to the driver's compartment—and that the car was quite soundproof.

As the limo moved into traffic, Peterson moved to the jump seat facing me and said, "It's a long drive; more than an hour. So, we might as well go ahead and get comfortable."

He flipped a CD into a machine next to him, which introduced a sensuous sound, with a good beat to it into the compartment. Then he proceeded to do a private strip tease for me. First his coat and his tie, which he folded and placed on the other jump seat, then his shirt and his shoes and socks. He was probably in his late thirties, but he was in superb condition. He had sandy-colored hair, tending toward the red and hazel-green eyes that held a smile real well. His chest was well developed and the hair on his chest was a fine, blond-red color, descending straight down from his neck, flaring out over his chest muscles and then back down to a thin line stopping above his navel. He pulled his pants and briefs off and folded them and placed them on top of his coat and tie, and there he was in all his glory. His pubic hair was even redder than his head hair, and his seven-inch, very thick cock stood at attention as if he had not forgotten in the least our recent encounter in the executive men's room. He pointed to a bar between the jump seats and offered me a drink, to which I could only croak a, "Thanks, maybe later."

That caused him to smile broadly, and he went down onto his knees and moved to where I was stretched out in a sitting position at one side of the plush bench seat.

"Okay, then we might as well get right to the second round," he said. He tugged at my suit coat, and I slipped it off and gave it to him. He folded it neatly and placed it on top his folded clothes. He loosened my tie, but didn't take it off. Instead, he slowly unbuttoned my shirt and took it off me, adding it to the clothes pile.

"My, my, we're pretty everywhere, aren't we?" he said, and I was happy that he seemed to appreciate someone with darker and more body hair than he had. He leaned in to me and gave me a kiss. My hands went to his waist and then one wandered down and cupped his balls and his dick. He sighed and slowly ran a hand up my thigh and to my crotch, where he found my engorging cock and rubbed it up and down through my pants. He kissed me on the neck and then ran his tongue down through my chest hair to one of my nipples. The nipple puckered right up for him as he tongued and nipped at it. I threw my head back into the seat and moaned quietly, pushing my dick into his hand through the fabric of my pants. I wanted to feel skin on skin there.

"Ah, such nice tits," he whispered, as he slid his tongue over to the other nipple, "and such a sweet, big cock too." He then undid my belt and unzipped my pants and pulled my pants, briefs, shoes, and socks off in one smooth move. He reached over and grabbed a couple of pillows, threw them up to me with a "Here, put these behind your back," and he turned me so I was laying the length of the seat. He took my right leg and placed it along the back of the seat, trapped there by his own body. My left leg jutted out onto the floor of the limo, and there I was, fully open to him. I put the pillows behind me, with my head in the back corner of the limo. I could turn my head and watch the world go by, beyond the smoke glass, while Peterson did me.

And he did do me. Immediately after we had both gotten comfortable, Peterson took my dick in his mouth and started playing with my glans with his tongue. My dick steadily engorged to its full eight inches under his attention. His right hand was running all over my upper body, up and down arms, up to my throat, playing with the hair in my pits, spending extra time on my chest hair and nipples, and trailing down across my washboard abs and into my pubic hair. With the other hand, he massaged my right leg and foot and then my butt cheeks. He pulled away from his sucking long enough to say, "Man, I love your butt. I can't wait to get more of these cheeks." Then we went back to my now-fully stiffened cock and began a rhythm of ever-deeper swallows. I moaned and moved to join his rhythm. My hands went to his head, playing in his hair, and down to massaging his shoulders and reaching down to playing with his nipples.

I was bucking wildly with him now, meeting every deep-throating with a plunge of my own. He had both hands encircling my butt cheeks, and I gasped as his hands pulled the cheeks apart and his thumbs reached for my asshole. He flicked my asshole with both of his thumbs, and I twitched in response, digging my hands in his hair. He was deep-throating me down to the root now.

"Oh, Gawd, I think I'm going to cum," I croaked in warning. But he didn't stop pumping me and took the three separate jerking spurts down his throat with ease. I rolled my head back toward the window, and that's when I noticed that the window between the compartments in the limo was now down, and that the burly limo driver was eyeing the action through the rear-view mirror. All I could think of was that maybe I'd get a piece of that hunk sometime during this adventure as well.

I felt my hips elevating, as Peterson took up another pillow and placed it under my lower back. His hands went back to covering and squeezing my butt cheeks, and his thumbs to gently resting on the rim of my asshole and spreading that entrance. His mouth went to my balls, which he licked and sucked and then gently pulled away from my body and down. I moaned in mixed pleasure and pain. And then his mouth was buried between my butt cheeks, his tongue exploring and moistening my asshole, until I found the hole loosening and opening to him. He came up onto the seat on his knees between my legs, and I felt the head of his cock against the door of my hole. I gulped and gasped, as he entered me a couple of inches.

He held himself there, into me up to the rim of his glans, giving my canal time to adjust to him. He then took his cock in one hand and rotated it back and forth in my hole, driving me to distraction, and causing me to open even more. I had done this often enough already, that I had no trouble opening further to him, and his big, thick cock then just slid right in until a good seven inches of it was buried in my hole. Once again, he then took his cock in his hand and rotated it within my canal, stretching and adding to the sensation of being properly and fully stuffed. He started a rhythmic pumping action, squeezing my butt cheeks with his hands in syncopation, and it wasn't long until he came with a jerk and collapsed full length on top of me. He found my mouth with his, and we consummated our union with a deep-tongued kiss.

I didn't have to wonder what came next. While he still held me in a lip lock, Peterson slowly withdrew from my anus, and brought his knees up on each side of my waist and lifted his chest off of mine. I could feel him wrapping a hand around my still-engorged cock, as he maneuvered over me. I felt the head of my cock sliding across skin and being positioned at Peterson's asshole. He took his mouth from mine and let out a little whimper of pain as he took the head of my cock into his ass. Then he arched his chest back, taking several inches of my cock into him, and grabbed his ankles. I took his waist in my two hands, as he slowly raised and lowered his buttocks, taking more of me in with each downward slide. He pumped away for what seemed like ages, and after I had cum for the second time, he gave a little sigh and lowered himself unto my chest. Without pulling himself away from my buried cock, he laid his head on my chest and slowly tongued my nipples and chest hair.

I must have gone to sleep soon thereafter, because the first thing I knew was that the car had stopped, the door had opened, and Peterson had gathered his clothes and was exiting the vehicle. I sat up and started gathering my clothes as well, but as I started to exit, I found the door was blocked by the hulky driver.

"Not so fast, Sweet Cheeks," the Hulk said to me with a grin, as he pushed me back onto the floor of the limo with a big mitt. "Someone has to pay the taxi fare," he said. "And Mr. Peterson said that someone might as well be you."

I laid there awestruck, as he pulled his shirt out of his pants, quickly unbuttoned it and drew it off his gigantic, barrel chest. He was magnificent, and I sucked in my breath at his hairless, burly beauty. Just as quickly, off came his pants and shoes, and I sucked even harder for air. His rod was a veritable telephone pole. It wasn't hard to imagine that it must reach almost to his knees when it wasn't hard, but just now it certainly was hard.

I made another dash for freedom past him, but he was too quick for me. Grabbing me around the upper arm, he threw me back into the limo, and, with the momentum of that, came through the door himself. I tried to fight him off, but he must have been a professional wrestler, because in no time he had me flipped across one of the jump seats, and, with my leather belt and his own, he had my wrists tied together and laced up to the anchor of one of the front seats with one of the belts and my left ankle attached to one of the anchors of the driver's seat. Wasting no time at all, he pulled my butt cheeks apart and had his tongue buried in my ass. I tried to raise myself, but he just pushed my back down with one of his big mitts and kept on tonguing me with satisfied gurgling and slurping sounds.

His tongue seemed bigger than some of the dicks I had entertained, and it wasn't long before I was lathered up real good again. I felt his tongue pull out of my ass, but he gave me no time to wonder what came next. The huge knob of his cock was at my asshole, and there was no coyness to his approach at all. He just drilled that telephone pole right on in, spreading my butt cheeks as much as possible. I screamed, and rose up involuntarily, but he only stopped long enough to push me down by the back of the neck.

After he was in a good seven or eight inches, he reached around me with both of his big mitts and started deeply massaging my chest, back, and shoulder muscles while vigorously pumping away, ever deeper and wider up my ass channel. there was pain, to be sure, but the thought of this big, beautiful monster, with what was now ten or more inches of thick black cock stuffed inside me, going wild with lust in my body—and that I was able to take him and give him such a buzz—gave me exquisite pleasure. It wasn't long before I felt him release with a violent jerk, coating my insides with his cum.

Then the lion turned into a lamb. He kissed me on the back of the neck and then returned to slowly and deeply massaging my aching body. One of his huge hands wrapped itself around my cock, and he gave me a slow hand job. After I had cum, he continued to massage my body until a slept. When I awoke, I was free of my bonds and lying across the backseat of the limo. The driver had dressed again and was waiting to show me into Peterson's country home. I pulled my briefs, pants, and loafers back on, stuffed my socks in my pockets and put my arms through my shirt. I didn't have time to dress further, though, before the Hulk had taken up my suit coat and tie, picked up my duffel bag, and was heading for the front door of an ostentatious beach house. Not knowing what else to do, I followed along behind him.

We entered a large foyer with two banks of stairs raising two stories. The Hulk started trudging up the stairs to the second floor, with me trailing behind him, gawking at the undoubtedly expensive erotic art on the stairwell walls. We went down a long corridor and entered a large bedroom, decorated for a gentleman in soft leathers and greens and browns and gold's. I heard the water running in a side room, and before I could explore there, a Greek god appeared at the door. He was young, couldn't have been twenty yet, and lithe, with a slim waist and hips, although with well-defined musculature; black curly hair, flopping down into his face and gorgeous light-blue eyes. His welcoming smile showed luminous pearly whites. He was wearing form-fitting white T-shirt, and tight gray slacks that showed a respectable basket at the crouch. Fine, curly black hair laced down his forearms and blossomed from the V neck of his T.

"Hello, there, my name is Salvas. You both look exhausted," he said with a grin. "To the showers with both of you."

Both I and the Hulk stripped down again and padded into the bathroom, which boasted a particularly large shower stall. The water was on from two jets, and the Hulk and I entered. I turned and watched the Greek god pull the T over his head and strip off his trousers. He was wearing a silky thong that left little to the imagination, and he was beautiful—slim, lithe, well-muscled through the chest and arms, and covered with curly hair. He winked at me as he stepped out his thong, showing a good seven inches of fairly thick, uncircumcised dick, picked up a cake of soap and a wash cloth, and entered the shower.

I was the guest, so Salvas soaked me up first, running his soap and wash cloth around my body in a way that made my cock stand at attention again. During this process, the Hulk leaned back in a corner, watched us, and languidly pulled at his dick.

Having soaped me up, Salvas turned to the Hulk, and quickly soaped him up as well. Fascinated by Salvas's pert little butt cheeks, I couldn't help but reach over and run my hands over them and then to continue on around his hips with one hand to explore his cock and through his legs with the other to nuzzle his balls. Salvas stopped his soaping of the Hulk long enough to turn his face to me and part my lips with his. I gasped, as he ran his tongue into my mouth and explored. I ran my fingers down to the tip of his dick and received a little thrill at the feel of the loose skin there as I pulled it back and got my fingers between it and his glans. Salvas shuddered with pleasure, and, leaving the Hulk to wash himself off, put one of his hands over mine, and brought my hand up to encase his engorged cock lightly. I kept my thumb on his piss slit. He wrapped his own hand over mine, and provided the slow pumping action on his dick. With each downward stroke, I could feel foreskin coming back up onto his glans and touching my thumb. This was a new, very interesting sensation for me. Shortly, with a shudder, Salvas came in my hand, and his cum was washed down into the drain. I looked around and the hulk was gone. It was just me and Salvas now.

I got out of the shower and Salvas dried me off with the towel, Making quite sure that all of my private parts were dry and well rubbed. After he finished, he moved around the room, straightening up, but never quite getting around to putting his clothes back on. I sat on the end of the bed and watched him.