I was a partner and a practice-group leader at one of K Street's leading law firms. I was 49, divorced, just shy of six feet tall, and still sometimes called handsome; I worked to maintain my muscular build, although I was thicker around the waist than I had been when I was a younger man.
Matt was an associate in my practice group and a recent lateral hire from one of our biggest rival firms. The firm's leadership considered it to be a coup when Matt chose our firm out of multiple offers. Matt had already distinguished himself by the quality of his work and even had clients asking for him by name. He made no secret of the fact that headhunters still called him; another high-ranking partner assured Matt that the firm would do what it took to keep him happy. Matt also had an easy-going manner that made him popular with the other associates and the staff alike.
Matt was in his late twenties, over six feet tall, with boy-next-door good looks accentuated by his round glasses and the way in which he combed his medium brown hair. He tended to wear white cotton broadcloth dress shirts with no undershirt, giving a hint of a well muscled and baby-smooth torso.
While I had had experiences with men, I considered myself to be straight but curious rather than gay or even bi. Still, Matt's beauty filled me with awe. I often masturbated while fantasizing about fucking Matt or having him suck my cock. I particularly enjoyed fantasies in which Matt was nude in my office, either bent over the desk for fucking or under the desk sucking my cock, while I participated in a conference call. I kept trying to plot ways to seduce him.
Matt knew the relevant legal principles cold and also had an intuitive grasp of the ways in which our clients' businesses worked and of their legal needs. Those abilities made Matt popular with the clients, but they often also made him insufferable in my opinion. Often, when I said something about the way in which a matter should be handled, he would give a "Well, actually..." response. Also, in document preparation, he would give "suggestions" for extensively rewriting what I had written. In addition to plotting ways to seduce him, I started plotting ways to put him in his place.
Matt and I had a business trip to a client's facility to investigate some of the client's proposed new products. That evening, I asked him to come to my hotel room to discuss our findings. He arrived, with his tie off and his shirt partially unbuttoned. After we discussed our findings for a while, I said, "By the way, I wish you'd quit mouthing off."
"What do you mean?" Matt asked.
"The way you're always giving your opinion, as though you're always right."
"Well, I'm sorry for trying to give good service to the client, but I am often right. That's why you hired me, isn't it?"
"That doesn't mean you always have to upstage everybody else."
"I don't."
"Yes, you do, and you want to know why I think you do it?"
"Go ahead."
"I think you're compensating for something."
"And what might that be?"
"I think you're compensating for having a small penis."
"Excuse me? Well, let's just see about that." Matt stood up, undid his belt and his slacks, and pulled out his penis. He had shaved off his pubic hair, as I understand to be the fashion among younger people nowadays. After a few tugs, his penis was considerably larger than I had imagined it to be. "Okay," he said, "your turn."
"My turn to do what?" I asked.
"Your turn to show me what you've got." Matt undid my belt.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Seeing whether you can cash the check your mouth just wrote." Matt undid my slacks, pulled down my underwear, and started tugging.
When we were both hard, he held his penis against mine and burst out laughing. "I've got eight inches," he said, "and it looks as though you've barely got five, and mine's at least twice as thick as yours. But yeah, I'm the one compensating for having a small penis."
