How to succeed in business without really trying? A little blackmail, a lot of drugs and loads of sex.
Jared West doesn’t have a lot of skills but he’s still managed to make a niche for himself with international telecommunications giant, Clifford Industries, through any devious means at his disposal. He’s a hair’s breadth away from a position as Personal Assistant to the CEO, Jensen Galsworthy, until mega-handsome Cory Warren joins the firm, wiggling his luscious butt in Galsworthy’s direction. If his prospects are to survive, West must destroy his competition, and if it involves a little blackmail, a lot of drugs and loads of sex, so much the better.
Series: Fruits in Suits
Ebook ID: 5112_1020
lyd Category: His and His Kisses
Length: 40 pdf Pages / 5791 words
Formats Available: pdf, prc, lit, zipped html,
lrf, epub, RB,
Ebook Cover Price: $2.00
I fucked, sucked, scammed and blackmailed my way through a number of prestigious companies until my legit credentials landed me at Clifford Industries under the watchful eye of none other than The Man himself: Jensen Galsworthy. I think he employed me more for my boner than my bona fides. He was a man’s man of the old school. Thought one of the reasons for the Global Financial Crisis was “too many fags on Wall Street.” I’d managed to hide my preference for men so that he believed I was just another schmuck in the Brotherhood of Pussy Worshippers.
My promotion was meteoric after a bonding session among Galsworthy and the heads of departments, ‘a buddy evening’ he called it, which culminated in an after-hours session at a high-class bordello in which we were supposed to sit and admire his cocksman skills as he plugged one of the working girls on a bed that would have done Marie Antoinette proud. Perhaps plugged is too strong a word for what actually occurred. No amount of manipulation on the poor girl’s part could inflate Galsworthy’s penis to anything approaching his ego. Some of the men watching cringed in embarrassment, offering to leave him to his privacy. He would not hear of it, having charged her services to the company.
“That’s so fuckin’ hot, seeing your cock tame the bitch, boss,” I said in the dirtiest voice I could contrive. “Fuck, dude, you put us younger men to shame. Fuck the bitch’s throat. Choke her on your cock, boss. Show her who’s master.”
That did it. Galsworthy’s cock slowly but inexorably reached its full potential as I kept up my barrage of filth. Some of the other men, quick to pick up on the change joined in until the chant of ‘Fuck her! Fuck her!’ echoed around the room. Presumptuously, I stripped off my clothes, tugging my cock to its impressive thickness and joined Galsworthy on the bed sinking my weapon into the girl’s well-used twat. She siphoned his watery sperm from the spigot, allowing him to shoot it over her face, while I got stuck into her pussy. We high-fived as he blew his load and I followed soon after.
“I used to be able to fuck them like you do when I was young,” he confided over a post-prandial cocktail after he’d tipped the poor girl a small fortune for her trouble. And it had been trouble. It had taken her an eternity to get him hard, his seventy-year-old cock flopping about in her mouth like so much seaweed, until I started talking dirty. She’d performed her duties for the cash; I did it for the prospects of promotion.
Most of the others had also ‘done their duty’ by the boss then guiltily rushed home to their wives. The remaining few, whom I had already singled out as my personal buddy brigade, were whooping it up in the special rooms.
By good fortune, good throat control, and certain skills that made irritating problems just disappear I found myself with a hard core, if you’ll excuse the expression, of loyal followers. They admired the dexterity with which I inveigled their own promotions above their more suitably qualified co-workers, and the manner in which I disposed of their competition. Mostly, they admired my complete lack of morals, something I was cultivating in them.
Barry Lowe’s dreams of winning the Nobel Prize for Literature faded about thirty years ago when he realised what he wrote best was about the wild, whacky, wonderful world of sex and that his vocabulary would never rival Patrick White’s or even Evelyn Waugh’s. Since then he’s been happily churning out the odd gay sex comedy for stage as well as a mountain of newspaper columns and an avalanche of erotica for print and eBooks. He is also the author of Atomic Blonde, a biography of 1950s sex goddess, Mamie Van Doren. He lives in Sydney, Australia, with his long-term partner, Wally.
Check out his website at www.barrylowe.net.