My Boss's Coc

My boss is not a big man, but he is powerful. He's the Head of Finance of one of the largest social landlords in London. The company has thousands of employees; it designs and builds entire neighbourhoods. And my boss is on top of the money, keeping his keen eye on the movement of hundreds of millions of pounds daily.

It is an immense responsibility, but he is up to the task. I have seen him take on behemoths and win. I have seen lesser people try to bribe him, and seen him dismiss them like flies. He is a powerful man. He is a firm man. But he is also a good man.

How do I know this? Because for the past few months, I have been temping as his personal assistant. Christ, I would have taken any job, and this just fell in my lap. His last PA quit, and HR organised a temp from an agency: me.

He didn't care that I was male. He was fucking busy. I walked into his office and he said, "Hello, I'm Kevin. Are you ready?"

I put down my bag, took out my writing folio, clicked my pen ready, and said, "Yes."

I almost said Sir.

And then he started talking, giving instructions, telling me what I needed to do, things I needed to tell to so and so. I wrote furiously. My heart was racing. This man expected efficiency. More than expected, he required it if he was to even function.

"Do you have all that?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. Sir, in my head.

"Okay then. I have a meeting now with Ops and Services, it should end by 9:00. If it doesn't, you need to come rescue me, I have other things to do. While I'm in there, if you could run down that list I would appreciate it. When I get here I would like a cup of rooibos tea, black, no sugar. Thank you Jacob."

And he walked off. He knew my name.

But oh my god. As I had glanced up from my writing, my eyes had accidentally flicked across his crotch. His trousers were just tailored enough that I could see the outline of his package quite clearly. It wasn't impossibly large, but I was pretty sure it was big enough. I lost my train of thought.

Then I looked at the list and realised I was fucked. I had no idea who anyone I'd written down was. I had to get this done, and I had 60 minutes to do it.

I worked my ass off that morning. Everything he asked me to do, I did, and I did it well.

At the end of the day he said, "Thanks for what you did today, I didn't think a temp would do that well. Do you need work?"

"My visa expires in three months," I said. "I do need a gig, but I likely won't stay."

"Well, you'll work here until then," he decided, matter of factly. "Go speak to Allison in HR, she'll do what's necessary. Goodnight."

Yes, sir.

Over the next few weeks, I never left Kevin's side. I shadowed him in meetings, noting what was discussed so that he didn't need to tell me to implement what was decided. I stood behind him in private appointments with contractors, as a presence of accountability because so many of them are shady. I noted his every tick, and the tides of his emotions. It was my job to anticipate his needs, and meet them.

I came to know him as brutally efficient, but also just in his dealings. Firm when required, but never unnecessarily unkind.

He was also sexy as fuck. Kevin was in his 40s but cycled to and from work, an hour each way. He would come up to the office at 6am in his cycling gear, the breathable sports fabric accentuating not only his fit muscles but the prominent bulge of his package, too. I would give him his pressed suit and he would head off to the company gym to shower.

I would walk with him, writing as he spoke.

On one occasion, we reached the shower cubicles before he had finished instructing me, and he carried on talking as he got undressed, unashamed of his nudity.

He had nothing to be ashamed of. He didn't have crazy model definition, but his body showed the results of the cycling, and he had an inviting trail of light fur that began below his neck and angled down over his lightly protruding belly, until it joined the trimmed bush above his cock.

His magnificent cock. It was cut, and he was clearly a grower, not a shower. Lord, it was thick. I was seeing it soft, but I knew that when it got hard, it would be fat. The helmet was beautiful. I could imagine how it would feel on my tongue, as I gently suckled it to firmness...

My eyes rolled up to his face and I realised that he was aware I was staring, and was simple waiting for me to make eye contact. It wasn't necessary for him to say, "eyes up here"; the words were implied. I felt my mouth go dry out of nervousness, unsure of how he'd react to being so blatantly perved by his assistant.

He turned toward me, and for a moment I almost got the impression he was deliberately giving me a better view. Then he started the water running and stepped into the stream, turning his back to me.

"Thank you," he said. "That'll be all for now, Jacob."

I may have looked at his ass for just a second too long. Then I left and got on with work, mentally forcing my hardon to go down.

That night I fantasised about Kevin fucking me, and came all the way up to my neck.

And then came the day when Barclays Bank fucked him. They ripped a 200 million pound hole in one of his projects. I had never seen such seething wrath in him. Outwardly he seemed himself, but I could tell that beneath the veneer of composure he was shaking with rage and frustration.

Now he was pacing his office, his jaw muscles clenched. I knew this wasn't over. Those fuckers at Barclays had no idea what was coming. But right now, Kevin was so outraged I was concerned he would hit something, or worse, make just the kind of emotionally-driven strategic mistake he had deliberately been trying to avoid. I closed the door behind me, locked it, and shut the blinds.

He turned towards me. "I need you to get Simon to go to Iron Mountain to pull original contract, the one with the ink signatures. Take that to Legal, let them digest it and give me a weapon by the end of play."

I wrote. Yes, sir.

He was silent. Then he sat down.

"Fuck," he shouted.

I felt such a wave of compassion for this man, who was so powerful, and who was now so vulnerable in this defeat. I also knew how close he was to making a critical mistake. Unless he cleared his head, this would only get worse.

I knew what the solution was. I craved the solution. This man needed a blowjob more than anyone I had ever seen in my life, and if I could save him, I would.

I am only on this godforsaken swamp of an island for another month, I told myself. If this goes wrong, it goes wrong.

I approached him.

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Kevin, but you are too wound up. I know the extent to which you were just fucked, in front of your colleagues, by people who think they're bulletproof."

He looked at me, bemused. I had never spoken to him like this before.

"But that is exactly why you need to calm down, right now. You are not thinking clearly and you are going to make a decision you will regret. You know this. You spoke about this exact scenario with Reilly yesterday, and you both agreed this was not the way."

"You can still win this if you just stop and calm down. It is my job to help you, Kevin. Let me help you."

I knelt between his legs and reached for his belt buckle.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I swallowed. Make or break time.

"I'm going to suck your cock now, and you're going to let me, because your head is fucked up and I can make it go away. You're going to come in my mouth, at which point you will come to your senses. Then you're going to go see Reilly, and unfuck this situation, and we will never speak about this again."

He held my gaze for a long moment. I suddenly found myself unable to read him, and had a sinking sensation that I had taken this too far.

But he simply said, "Get on with it then."

Trying not to appear too gleeful, I undid his belt and fly, and pulled down his incredibly tastefully tailored trousers along with his boxer briefs. His cock was as beautiful as I remembered it. Clearly his wife liked him trimmed; his balls were now shaven too. I leaned in and licked them, breathing in the heady smell of him, clean, but with tiny, delicious hint of sweat.

I squeezed his cock in my hand, feeling him harden. This brazen demand of mine had clearly turned him on; he was firming up quickly. It was a shade over six inches long, and as excitingly fat as I had predicted, my hand barely closing around it. As he reached his full erection, the most wonderful veins began to pulse along his shaft. I could imagine his wife enjoying the feel of this cock opening her up, his blunt head pressing slowly but insistently against her, sliding in without resistance, but making her stretch around it. And then I could imagine it opening me up too.

"Suck it, Jacob. You've thought about little else since you eyefucked me on your first day here. Here's your opportunity. Get busy."

Yes, sir. He'd been onto me since day 1.

I didn't keep him waiting any longer. Pressing my tongue against the base of him, I slid up his underside until his cockhead was against my open mouth, and then I took him in. It felt so good, having him there. I laved my tongue around his helmet, dipping into his urethra a few times, before starting to swirl around and around on the sweet spot just underneath the head, eliciting a low growl from Kevin.

He was having none of this fancy shit. He needed to be sucked, now. Placing his hand behind my head, he fucked his dick all the way into my mouth. If he had been any bigger, I would have been in real trouble. As it was, the tip of him was in my throat, and I was desperately trying not to choke or puke.

He had a handful of my hair now. He pulled me back up. He pushed me back down and pulled me back up again. He was fucking my mouth, establishing a steady, relentless rhythm. I put my hands on his thighs and basically allowed him to use my face.

"I don't have time for your bullshit avant garde faggoty cocksucking tricks that you learned on Tiktok. This is how I need you to suck my cock, do you understand? Focus and do it properly or stop wasting my fucking time."

Yes, sir.

He released my head and relaxed back, finally closing his eyes. I kept the exact same pace, nearly brutalising my mouth, my tongue pressed against him, lips covering my teeth, sliding up and down on him. I felt my mouth fill and empty, fill and empty, as the taste and smell of him infused my senses. His cock was all I could think about.

It was as though nothing else in the universe existed except this man, whose decisions affected so many, who was so worthy of this pleasure. Who deserved to have his cock sucked as well as I could suck it. Yes, I was sucking his cock because I am a horny bisexual, but I also had such a strong desire to please him, because I genuinely felt I was giving him something he needed.

And that affected how I sucked. I needed his come. I was helping him, had to help him, by getting his come. I wanted so badly to do this for him.

"Yes, that's it," he sighed. "Oh fuck. Yes, Jacob, you're doing a great job. Keep that up and I'm going to fill your mouth."

I stroked my right hand up the inside of his thigh, and put it around his balls. They seemed already to be tightening. I dragged my nails ever so gently across them, in slow strokes. Kevin moaned, and said, "Oh fuck!"

He put his hand on my head again, but this time he simply rested it there, almost as though he was caressing me. I kept the rhythm.

Spit was running down his balls now. I took a risk. Wetting my fingertips in the drool, I began to rub Kevin's asshole in gentle circles, a counterpoint to the vigorous rhythm of the sucking. Kevin made a sound in his throat unlike any I had ever heard him make.

"Oh you fucking slut," he breathed out. I felt him harden even more, his head swelling in my mouth.

He began to come then, gripping my head between his hands again. He was gasping, sounding not unlike slow crying, and I could taste his semen coating my tongue as he fucked my mouth. Finally he pulled me down onto him so that my nose was buried in his pubes, and held me there until the last pulses of his orgasm subsided. Then he relaxed, his hand dropping off my head.

I gently sucked his cock clean, and stood up.

Without opening his eyes he said, "I'm going to go see Reilly now to unfuck this situation. You're right, I wasn't thinking, but I want you to send Simon to Iron Mountain anyway. I don't want to go that way, but I want to have options ready in case this gets as childish as it might. Please go and take care of that."

I let myself out of his office, closing the door behind me.

It would not be the last time I helped him to clear his head. I think he was a more effective leader because I sucked his cock whenever it was necessary. And it was frequently necessary after that, although I never had to volunteer it again. From then on, I sucked him joyfully and efficiently, whenever he told me to.

Yes, sir.