Company Cocksucker Pt. 01-04

Women might not like it when we guys are always horny. They may profess to be more interested in cuddling and caressing. They are, as we all know, nobler creatures than we mere men. But boy do they want you hard when they want you hard. It's like an affront to their beauty and desirability if you pecker peters out. They'll hide it and say it doesn't matter (in that tone that means that it matters a lot).

The fact that I could tell how much Steph wanted us to fuck made it all that much harder. (Well, I guess it made it all that much softer.) Knowing that Steph wouldn't be forgiving of my encounter with Murphy, of course, kept that whole incident in my mind while I was trying to make love with Steph. It's not exactly good arousal material for fucking your girlfriend.

I told Steph that I wasn't feeling well, made my apologies and went home--disappointed and dejected. I hit the shower as soon as I got home. I thought the hot shower would relax me and help me sleep. It didn't. As I soaped up, my cock--which had been as good as dead for the last several hours--suddenly began to perk up. I ignored it but when I dried off, I got hard again. Of course, this all made me think about my inability to get hard with Steph, which made me think about the incident with Old Man Murphy, which seemed to get me harder than ever.

Shit. What the Hell was happening? I couldn't get hard to fuck my beautiful girlfriend and, when I was with her, the more I thought about sucking Murphy's cock, the limper I got. But, here by myself, when I thought about sucking Murphy's cock, I got hard as a rock. Soon, I was pounding my pud and spurting my cum in the sink. It was a great orgasm. I really needed the relief.

Sunday was a wasted day and then the week began. I couldn't look at Murphy. I went to great lengths to avoid crossing his path. In fact, I tried to avoid conversation, and even eye-contact, with everyone in my office.

Part 4: Return to the Office

It was a shitty week. I worked my butt off but every time I got close to closing a deal something fucked it up. Then, when I was pinning my hopes on my biggest client coming through, I got an e-mail from the Old Man telling me that he was moving that account to another guy in the office and moving three very much smaller accounts to me in exchange. Together they didn't add up to even a third of the big account I was losing. Murphy wrapped it all up in flattering prose: I had the talent to bring these guys along, he said. My sales for the week, and probably for the foreseeable future, were going to tank. I didn't see any chance of avoiding a repeat of last Friday's awful events.

Sure enough, the call came on Friday afternoon around 4:00. Murphy had just seen the week's numbers and he wanted me in his office to respond to his concerns.

It was no easier this time than last. My ears burned and my throat was dry. By the time I closed the door to his office, my heart was pounding so loudly he could probably hear it.

Murphy didn't wait for me to sit down. He got up out of his chair and holding the sales records in his hand and walked around his desk.

"What the hell is this?" he roared. "What the hell is going on with you? Your sales have been in the shithole the last two weeks."

"Well, Mr. Murphy," I began tentatively. "How can I get decent orders when you took away the Electronic Warehouse?" I had an uneasy feeling that this wasn't the right strategy. This uneasy feeling was immediately confirmed as correct.

"I don't want excuses, Wilcox! I thought you were smarter than that. I thought you were more of a man than to whine about your accounts." He threw down the reports on his desk and leaned back against it. "I want results! I want performance!" He crossed his arms and looked at me for an uncomfortable minute. I waited, the blank stare on my face revealing completely what was going on in my mind.

"Well, Wilcox? What are you going to do to make me happy?"

I'm actually really smart about most things, but it was only now that I realized that Murphy intentionally took Electronic Warehouse away from me. He was ensuring that I would wind up in last place in sales for the week and, so, that I would be the one on my knees giving him a blowjob today. I wondered why. Was I "better" than the other guys? I certainly didn't have any experience. Last Friday was the first time I had ever touched another man's cock.

All that really didn't matter now. Murphy was mad and I knew what I had to do to get out of his target sights. As I stood up to walk over to him, I could feel my cock pressing my trousers out. I hoped to God that Murphy couldn't see that. I decided I should get over to him and on my knees as quickly as possible to minimize the chance that he would see my still growing erection. The only thing I could think of that was worse than having to suck Old Man Murphy off was for him to think that I liked doing it.

"Let's get this over with," I thought to myself as I knelt down and unzipped his pants in a single motion. When I reached into his pants, he was already beginning to swell and I had a little difficulty getting his cock out. When I had him all the way out, somehow he seemed bigger than last week. I guess it was because he was standing up not instead of sitting and his cock was thrust out more.

I started right away. I didn't like this and I didn't want it to take any more time than it had to. So I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and my hand around the base and began pumping and sucking hard. And hard was how he was in an instant. I could tell that he was moving very quickly. It would be a while before he came, I knew, but this wasn't going to be any kind of long, leisurely suck. I did everything I knew how to do to speed it up, too. I squeezed the base of his cock hard as I pumped and then I lifted up my other hand and cupped his hairy balls in my hand.

It's a weird feeling having a man's balls in your hand. I guess it's a weird feeling having his cock in your mouth, too. All of this was pretty new to me. But knowing that I could cause him excruciating pain by a simple squeeze of my hand sort of made me feel powerful. Of course, immediately following such an exercise of power, I would be cleaning out my desk and not feeling very powerful at all. Still, it was odd to have his testicles resting in my hand.

I massaged them gently but insistently, hoping to coax him into erupting sooner rather than later. He was getting close. Suddenly his hands were on my head again and he was trying to thrust deeper into my mouth. I gagged and, again, worried that I would throw up. When he felt me gag, he relented a little and I pulled off of him enough to control my gagging.

When Steph gave me a blow job, I always loved it when she moaned. I didn't want Murphy to think I was getting turned on or anything (though I could feel my cock, rigid and rubbing against my underpants and I wasn't sure what that meant), but I thought the vibrations might help send Murphy over the top and get me out of this office and on my way home.

So, when he was back deep in my mouth, I sort of moaned a little and it seemed to be doing the job. But Murphy couldn't just enjoy shooting off in my mouth. When he started to cum, he had to force his damn cock down my throat again like he did last time.

He came, I gagged, and I came. Jesus did I cum! I could feel the wetness coat the inside of my boxers. I could feel it getting smeared all over my cock as I thrust against my underpants.

Oh, God! Again, all I wanted to do was to get out of there as fast as I could and walk out to my car, holding my coat over my crotch so no one could see my shame.

I started to get up and Murphy stopped me.

"Take it back in your mouth, Wilcox," he said, still gasping for a breath. "And suck it gently before putting it away."

"Shit," I thought, "I just sucked him off and he can't even put his fucking cock away." But I did what he wanted before I started to make my escape.

As I was opening the door, he bellowed out, "You'd better do better next week, Wilcox."

I muttered that I would and it was only after leaving his office that I realized that his comment could be taken two ways. I resolved to do better in sales so I wouldn't have to face the other interpretation of his comment.

I didn't make eye contact with the other guys. They did some of the typical teasing and I just sort of shrugged and made a bee-line for my desk, keeping my hand over my pants where the wetness was obviously beginning to seep through. I grabbed my coat and briefcase and beat it out of there as quickly as I could. As I was driving home, I was almost relieved to think that Steph was away visiting her family for the weekend. Sure, it would be nice to find some comfort in her beautiful body, but I remembered all too well last weekend's disaster. With Steph away, there would be no pressure and nothing to do all weekend except to forget the last half hour--though that would prove impossible, as I was to find out.

Continued in Part 5 ...