6

“Stop,” he said.

And I stopped as I was, with my hips upfront. The way he fondled my crotch pulled gasps from my parted lips, and my eyes fluttered closed. I hated him and I hated myself, but I couldn’t help it. I was hard as a ram. If he kept going, he’d make me come in my khakis within a couple of minutes, and there was nothing I could do to help it. Maybe because being a guy himself, he knew damn well what worked best to push me to the edge.

And then he stopped, moving his hand away from me.

I didn’t dare to open my eyes, frozen like the statue to the boner of the year, fists clenched against my sides, sweat drops trickling down my temples, my chest pumping.

“Look at me.”

I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway. I faced his burning dark eyes and his smirk, trying in vain not to pant softly.

His hands came up to the waist of my khakis and I felt him unbutton it and pull the zip down. A heartbeat later, his fingers sneaked inside the slacks to grab my junk over the underwear.

“That’s better,” he said.

My hips moved slightly back, helping him guide my throbbing cock up. The son of a thousand bitches placed it pointing up, the head showing out over the boxer trunks waist, that pressed on it to keep it like that.

“Don’t touch it.”

His words stopped my hand on its track, halfway to my cock. I forced it back down and pressed it to my side.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

He smirked wider and didn’t answer. Instead, his hand sank inside my slacks, covering my shaft on its way down to my nuts, where it paused to fondle them. The shaky sigh that escaped my mouth made him look up at my face. He seemed to like what he saw.

“Don’t even think about coming until I tell you so.”

I nodded slightly, more agitated by the minute. But I frowned in shock when he brought his other hand to my face and his fingertips reached out to my lips.

“Be a good boy to your big boy,” he said.

A chill of rejection ran down my back as he dipped two of his fingers in my mouth, brushing the tip of my tongue. And another chill made shiver from head to toes a heartbeat later, feeling those wet fingertips brush the head of my cock.

“Oh, fuck,” I heard myself mumble, closing my eyes while his fingers ran over the tense skin, his other hand still petting my nuts, my cock nodding and wagging in protest against the waist of the trunks choking it and my guts ablaze like a wild fire.

His hand left my groin, but the fingers kept teasing my tip, and that alone made me jerk inside. I could only think of pushing him away, grab my cock in my own hand and give it what it wanted.

Then his whole hand sneaked into my underwear, grasping my shaft in a fist that moved up and down a couple of times. Maybe my quivering gave me away, because he stopped and stepped away again. I opened my eyes to find him walking backwards toward the table.

“Please,” I murmured. “Let me go.”

“Let you go?” he repeated, grabbing the soft bag, and shot a mocking glance at me. “Or let you come?”

“Whatever?”

He unzipped the soft bag and produced a little flask of something that looked like Purell, using the small pump on the lid to pour some gel on his other hand. My knees trembled when he approached me again, rubbing his fingers together. He stood at my left, his tie brushing my arm, and looked down at my crotch.

“Keep your shirt bottoms out of the way.”

I did, holding them against my belly above my navel.

“Let’s give your skin a little something.”

I shut my eyes tight when his fingertips brushed the tip of my cock. He closed his fist around it, covering the whole head. Shit! It felt good. Then he moved his fist up and down, but never past the waist band of my trunks.

“Oh, fuck,” I mumbled once more as he stroke the head, spreading the gel over it. No, it wasn’t gel. It was more like oil. Whatever. It made it feel even better.

And as he stroked, my skin covered in oil felt funny under his touch. Warm, but not only that. Like waves of that warmth rippled down my shaft. Nothing could have stopped my hips from humping.

“Please stop,” I begged in a thread of voice.

“What, you don’t like it?”

His hand sank inside my underwear, spreading the oil all over my shaft, stroking up and down with little pulls to the side, like my cock was the lid of a jar he wanted to unscrew. If it was, it was about to come out.

The touch of his warm skin mixed with the oil, setting my whole crotch on fire with his slow and firm jerking. Until, all of a sudden, he stopped and removed his hand. My head basked forward and I opened my eyes, never minding my panting, to face him like asking why the fuck he was stopping.

“Breathe, boy. You still haven’t earned permission to come.”

The twisted son of a bitch! My glare made him chuckle.

“Pull the trunks waist down,” he commanded, pouring more oil on his hand.

He guided my spare hand to hook my thumb in the waist band and brought out my nuts. My cock wagged against my pelvis like a frigging wiper, hard and tense. And the hideous junk even nodded when he reached out to it.

“Something here knows what it wants, huh?” he mocked me. The sick sucker was having a great time.

I was about to loathe him some more, but his dry hand guided my cock down to rest his oiled fist against my tip. It slid on my cock but an inch, just enough to keep it in place.

“Ready for more?”

His fist stroke my shaft slowly down to its base and came back up. A muffled groan came out of my lips. He did it again, and again. It was killing me.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, please,” I whined, letting my hips match his fist.

“I like to hear you,” he whispered, so close to my ear it startled me. As to prove it, his fist stroked me a few more times, faster now.

I’d never felt anything like that over a handjob. That wicked rippling of warmth that seemed to reach my guts and spread inside of me. It was like fucking Steph in kinky lingerie and eating the best chocolate at the same time. The urge for relief and a rush of dopamine colliding right behind my navel and shaking me inside.

“Let me know if you’re about to come.”

“I’m about to come,” I managed to mumble, gasping and trying to muffle the moans that struggled to escape my lips.

So he stopped, of course, and left me shaky and panting.

“Please!” I begged.

He raised his eyebrows. My heart sunk yet again when I felt his other hand on my buttocks. Oh, the twisted fucker wanted to fuck me. That was what this was all about. Foreplay to subdue me and then have my ass for his silence. I had to get out of there, away from him. I had to get home, grab Steph and leave town that very night to never come back.

His fingers fishing in my back pocket gave me a start. Only then I realized my phone was buzzing in there. Oh, shit! That was Steph! What was I to tell her? Pack and come pick me up? He took my phone and showed it to me, still holding my painfully hard cock in his other hand.

“Steph?” he asked, reading the screen.

“My girlfriend,” I replied, looking at him in desperation. “I should be home by now.”

“You better tell her you’re going to be late.”

He took the call and held the phone against my ear. I closed my eyes. There I was, standing in the middle of the conference room, holding my shirt up and my underwear down, my nuts hanging out, sore and full, my cock hard as to drill a hole in a brick wall. With Big Ellie, the unicorn, the all-mighty gazillionaire, the CEO, holding my cock. And the phone so I could lie to my girl.

“Hey, babe, sorry,” I said before she could ask anything. “Something came up and I’m still in the campus.”

I felt my throat squeeze when his oiled hand stroked me slowly.

“Oh, okay. I was scared something had happened to you,” said Steph, the thought of me lying to her never even crossing her mind.

“Go ahead and have dinner. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay. But you’re gonna pay for this. Dearly.”

I fought back a shaky gasp as the stroking sent more rippling waves all over my lower body.

“Gladly,” I was able to reply.

“Love you.”

He didn’t let me say me too. He pulled the phone away and disconnected, letting go of me only enough to throw it on the table.

“Where were we?” he asked, always with that smug mocking smirk.

“Please, I’m begging you.”

“I know, and I like it.”