Hard For My Boss

Then the peeing stops.

Thank God.

And then it resumes.

I gape at Trevor and mouth the words, “Oh my God,” to him. Trevor fights a smile, straightens his face, then looks away with his face burning red.

By the way, his hand is totally still cupping my junk.

Well, there’s really no reason to stop the party, is there? I bring a finger to the bottom of his chin and give it a strong push, directing his attention right back to me. I nod down at my cock. “Get to work,” I mouth at him.

He parts his lips, shuts them, then parts them again. “Now??” he mouths back at me.

I grab his hand and proceed to guide him in massaging my swollen cock. Trevor’s mouth hangs open as he starts to follow my lead, kneading my tool muscularly with his whole hand. I bite my lip and grin, suppressing the moan in my throat.

Meanwhile, the peeing miniseries is still going on.

Trevor’s eyes snap to mine. “The hell did this dude drink?” he mouths at me, half-whispering now.

I shrug. “I should really revise my strict break schedule for my loyal employees, the poor things,” I return in a whisper. “You stopped.”

“Sorry,” he mouths, then continues to knead my crotch.

It feels so good that my eyes rock back. His hand starts to pick up pace as he massages me. Soon, he begins a stroking motion, his smooth palm running up and down the length of my cock, still encased in the thin, tight fabric. This underwear is so thin, I might as well not be wearing any at all; I feel every glide, twitch, and squeeze of his fingers as though he were stroking my cock itself. If only he was brave enough to pull it out …

I bite my lip and lean my head against his shoulder, a deep growl issuing from my throat when his innocent stroking grows in strength and speed. His breath crashes against my ear. His free hand strokes my side, groping its way across my muscle toward my backside, encouraging me.

Suddenly, I want to tear open his clothes and retaliate by making him as crazy as he’s making me right now. Why should I be the only one to suffer?

The peeing stops almost abruptly, which causes us both to freeze. The whole restroom is suddenly twice as silent as it ought to be without even a bit of evidence that the other guy is still there. The tiles make this room echoey. Did he hear us? Can he see our feet? The stalls are separated by actual walls with only the door giving half a foot of visibility at the ground and coming up seven feet to nearly touch the ceiling with no way to peek over the door unless you happen to be in the NBA.

Trevor is clinging to me tightly now as we stand perfectly still so as not to alert our friendly bathroom mate of our existence. His grip on my cock through the thin, slippery material of my boxer-briefs has gotten so tight, I feel my own pulse throbbing into his palm. I lift my head from his shoulder, licking my lips slowly as I stare down at Trevor, suddenly finding myself more turned on than freaked out by this situation we’re caught in.

Then, mercifully, the sound of a flushing urinal fills the room, I hear footsteps, and then the sink turns on.

Trevor’s eyes show relief as his nervous vice-tight grip on my cock relaxes. By reflex, I reach around and grab one of his butt cheeks, filling my hand. Trevor lifts his eyebrows in surprise as I give it a hearty squeeze, smiling devilishly down on him.

When the sink cuts off and the crinkle of a paper towel is heard, the man at last speaks. “Dude, is that you?”

We freeze again. Trevor stares into my eyes. I stare into his.

“Trevor. Seriously. I recognize your shoes. I helped you pick them out. Oh. And … someone else’s shoes.”

Trevor’s mouth parts. Terror strikes his eyes.

“I get it. Sorry.” The man chuckles. “Already moving on after that random rich prick from Friday night, huh?”

I smirk at Trevor. He shrinks, his face burning red and his lips scrunching up with frustration. “Rich prick?” I mouth at him, to which he just rolls his eyes and looks away.

“No problem,” the man goes on. “I’ll let you boys have your fun. But y’know, if the boss man catches you two in there messing around, he’s gonna have your asses.”

A paper ball slaps into the trash bin. Footsteps. Door opens, door closes. Then, silence.

I smirk at Trevor. “You heard him,” I tease. “Boss man’s gonna have your ass.”

Trevor’s face darkens, an unexpected flicker of anger chasing across his eyes. At once, he pulls his hand away from my crotch and starts smoothing out his tie, which I’d pulled loose when I yanked him into me before.