My 3 Rockstar Bosses

We’d all heard reports of that ass. None of us had touched it yet but the giant pumpkin was beckoning in our imaginations, jouncing this way and that, dripping with cum.

Because yeah, the female’s lost her pussy cherry already. The twins took that. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t another cherry still intact, luscious and sweet.

Or in this case, dirty and deep.

Because we’ll own her every which way until she screams, creamy curves heaving hard.

But fuck. Where the hell was Tom? Dude’s a pilot. Shouldn’t that make him get here sooner rather than later?

Because Tucson isn’t my place. I’m a New Yorker, Manhattan is my milieu. So to be stuck in this dry, arid desert, with red mountains the only thing for miles sucked shit. Give me a skyscraper or two, that’s more my style.

But at that moment, Damien strolled in.

“Yo relax,” he grunted, seeing my scowl. “They’ll be here any second.”

“They better,” was my surly retort. “Because shit, this place sucks.”

Charlie followed not two steps behind.

“It’s not so bad,” he drawled. “Relax bro. Enjoy the amenities. We’ve done well with headquarters.”

Because currently, Damien, Charlie, Aaron, Andrew and I were at Elite Air’s corporate offices waiting for Tom to show with our sweet female. The building is a sleek, gleaming affair, designed by a starchitect from my hometown. No way was I going to work in some pueblo-style adobe hut.

And the interior melded with the modern design of the building itself. Low-slung white couches were scattered about, a couple flat screens going simultaneously, broadcasting CNN and MSNBC. Hey, the markets always run, even when they’re allegedly closed. It’s important to stay on top of this shit.

Because I run a trading firm back in New York. The details aren’t important except to know that billions of cash pass through our hands each day. It’s not about individual guys on the exchange floor, shouting and gesturing with obscure hand signals. It’s all about electronics now, transactions that happen in a blink of an eye based on market movements and inside info.

Yeah, I said it. Inside info. This ain’t the cleanest business in town, but hey, that’s just how it works. So long as I get my fair share, then I’m good to go.

But hell, we were all rich as shit, it wasn’t even about the money anymore. Damien ran a couple ranches. Charlie had his cosmetics company. The twins do that weird holding company thing, with a finger in every pie. And Tom, damn him, is actually the CEO of a tech start-up, a billion dollar unicorn that has investors salivating. It was crazy. How does that guy even have time to fly planes?

But the six of us were meeting at HQ to get things under control. Because reports on Joanie have been insane. Wet. Willing. A constantly leaking cunt. So innocent and yet so horny all the time. Doing guy after guy after guy, spreading her legs, always with a sweet smile. I was the only one who hadn’t gotten my hands on her yet, and believe me, my cock was ready. It was positively pulsing, achy and hard from anticipation.

Suddenly, the buzzer sounded. A glance at a security screen revealed Tom’s looming form outside.

“Tell them to head upstairs,” I ordered the secretary over the intercom.

And expectantly, the five of us waited, cool air from the A/C brushing over my shoulders. At least there was no desert heat here in the building.

Finally, a loud rap sounded on the door and my buddy appeared. Damn, asshole looked good, dark hair swept back, blue eyes gleaming, that shit-eating grin on display. And you know why? Because fucker just got laid, spurting his release dozens of times into a sweet, hot female.

But where was the girl?

“Yo,” I grunted. “Missing something?”

And then Joanie stepped out from behind Tom, that curvy form shy yet voluptuous.

Oh shit, oh shit.

She was even better than the reports.

Luscious in every way, hills and valleys heavy and full even under that cotton stewardess dress.

“Hi,” she breathed unsteadily, eyes sweeping over us. “Hi, I think I’ve met you all already.”

“Not me,” was my growled reply. I got up, taking that small hand in one of my massive paws.

“I’m Nick North,” was my deep rasp. “These are my buddies, we own Elite Air. I think you’ve met Damien, Charlie, Andrew, Aaron, and this fucker Tom,” I said, clapping the big man on the back.