The Business Man
by: Will B.
© 2008 by the Author
Encouraged by E Walk

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

This story is for Jacques of Canada

Jim was a hardworking businessman. He had acquired a reputation for always delivering the goods on time and in excellent working order.  He maintained good customer relations with his clients and most of them came back to him time and again when they needed his product.

Except the rent for an office and fees for a computer with Internet services, Jim had very little overhead. He had no office staff so he had no salaries to pay. He did have an accountant who made sure that his business records were kept up to date, and that there was never a reason for the IRS to audit his books.

At twenty-eight, he was at the top of his game. He had been in this business for seven years, ever since he was twenty-one. He had honed his marketing skills, and his presentation. There was no one to match him in the business.

His parents had died when he was eight, and he had been raised by a guardian appointed in his father’s will. The guardian tried to raise him right, but there was no love between them. As long as Jim kept his room neat, did his homework, and kept the guardian informed of his whereabouts, he was left pretty much to his own devices.

He had grown up lonely, and in time had preferred to be a loner (except for a few friends in high school.)

He was six-foot-two-inches tall, with curly brown hair and brown eyes. His shoulders were broad and he had muscular definition on his upper body and a flat stomach and lean flanks that led the eye down to his muscular legs, which were covered with dark hair. He had very little pubic hair but his organ was impressive! Where it sprang from his body it looked to be three inches in diameter, and when flaccid it hung down a good eight inches ending in a mushroom helmet that looked as if it could deliver some delightful, delicious man-honey.

I guess you want to know what his business was. Well, he was a …. How do you say it politely? Well, he was a male prostitute with a prick—a slut, a cunt boy. He sold his body for cash, and he gave his customers such delightful pleasurings that they often came back for more.

He had known since he was fourteen that he preferred boys to girls. He would lie in bed at night and have fantasies about having sex with boys his own age. While he fantasized, he would jerk off, and he soon became addicted to the taste of his own cum.

When he was fifteen, he became friends with a guy in his class. The guy was tall and slender with red hair. Everybody called him ‘Carrots.’ One day after school had ended for the year, Jim and ‘Carrots’ were at the latter’s house while ‘Carrots’’ parents were at work. They were talking about jerking off, and how often they did it, and how far they could shoot and how many spurts they would send flying.

Suddenly ‘Carrots’ got a wicked smile on his face and said, “How about we jerk off together ”

“Now?” asked Jim.

“Why not? The parents won’t be home for several hours. We can do it in the bathroom,  in my bedroom, on the floor or any place you’d like.”

Jim couldn’t believe his luck. He’d wanted to see ‘Carrots’ naked, and now he was going to get his chance. He thought maybe he could take it a step farther.

“Hey, maybe we could jerk each other off?”

‘Carrots’ grin got even wider. “Thought you’d never ask! Come on, let’s get naked!”

They quickly stripped out of their clothes, and Jim saw ‘Carrots’ standing there in all his glory. His body was smooth and below his neck almost completely hairless. His bush wasn’t very thick, but his cock was gorgeous. He fisted it so that is stood almost completely vertical. A vein ran up one side of the shaft, and his smooth balls hung below his organ.

“Like what you see, Jim?” asked ‘Carrots.’

“Uh, huh!” said Jim, “And do you like what you see?”

Jim was slender, but his shoulders were broad. His brown nipples were about the size of quarters. A thin line of hair ran down the middle of his chest to his navel, and then continued, broadening into a nice sized bush that surrounded a long cock, now ready for action.

The two boys moved closer so that their tools did a tango. They ground their crotches into each other, and Jim could feel ‘Carrots’’ hardness against his body. Both tools began to emit their pearl drops of precum.

The boys moved a little apart and ‘Carrots’ ran his thumb over Jim’s helmet. It felt so good that Jim almost felt his knees buckle. “Uuuuuuuhhhh,’ he moaned.

Jim fisted ‘Carrots’' shaft and moved his hand slowly up and down the rigid member of his partner. 

“Aaaaahhhhhh,” ‘Carrots’ sighed.

Since both guys were both only fifteen and not used to the finer techniques of ‘edging,’ it wasn’t long before both studs shot their loads into each other’s hands and onto the  other’s body.

They had been lying on the floor, and ‘Carrots’ looked at Jim and said with a smirk, “That was awesome, but I can’t let you go home covered with my cum!”

With that he leaned over Jim and began to lick the cum off of Jim’s body and off of his shaft and balls. When he was done he looked at Jim and smiled.

Jim looked at him and smiled back, and said, “I don’t see why you should have all the fun, ‘Carrots.’” Jim leaned over ‘Carrots‘, and like Jack Sprat ‘licked the platter clean,’ and licked ‘Carrots’ abs, pecs, legs, and shaft clean and dry. When he was done, he pulled ‘Carrots’ up and drew him into a very tight hug, and . . . . kissed him on the lips!

The days flew by, and gradually Jim and ‘Carrots’ were drawn closer and closer together, and it wasn’t just the sex, which was great. It was a feeling of friendship, of bonding, of companionship, and if they had been older and understood more about human emotions, they would have recognized their feelings as those of love!

When school started again, they made friends with some other guys who also liked to engage in MM (mutual masturbation). Sometimes they would gather at one of the guys’ house and have a jerk-off party.

One day one of the guys, Peter, said, “I’ve got a great idea! We’ll play strip poker, and the first one to be completely naked is the ‘goat,’ and has to lie on the floor, and the rest of us will strip and jerk off and shoot our cum onto his body. The one who shoots first then becomes the ‘goat’ and we’ll do it again.” Being young horny studs, these sessions usually went to three or even four rounds.

 When Jim was lying on the floor, his studly body would be the target of five streams of cum.  ‘Carrots’ always tried to shoot his load into Jim’s mouth, and if ‘Carrots’ were on the floor, Jim would aim for his buddy’s mouth. The other guys recognized the special bond that was between ‘Carrots” and Jim and respected their desires.

One day, Dick, another of the ‘circle of jerk-offs,’ suggested that after one guy was naked, they would all pair off and do 69. That idea was also well received, as you can imagine. Each of these guys loved shooting his wad into a willing mouth and receiving a load of man-nectar into his own.

Those days of sex and friendship ended for Jim one beautiful day in April when ‘Carrots’ came to his house, and with tears in his eyes, “Jim, my dad has been transferred and we’ll moving across the country to L. A.”

“N-o-o-o!” cried Jim.

‘Carrots’ hugged him and said, “Don’t worry, Jim. We can keep in touch by e-mail. We’re both on the Internet and we can write once, twice, three times a day.”

“Dammit. It’s not fair. I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I know, Jim, and I’m gonna miss you, too,” ‘Carrots’ said.

‘Carrots’ and his family moved and Jim was miserable. He missed his friend, he missed the feel of ‘Carrots’’ strong, firm body in his arms. Some nights he would dream about lying on the floor while his buddies sent their man-milk onto his writhing body, the smell of hot cum in his nostrils, and the sounds of moans of pleasure in his ears.

Sadly, one day Jim sent ‘Carrots’ an e-mail, and it bounced back with a message that the recipient was unknown. Jim thought his heart would break again. He had lost touch with the one person who he . .  he  . . . loved, yes, dammit! He loved that guy, and now he’d lost him.

Jim made up his mind to never, never care for another person. Caring only led to heart-break.

Whenever Jim had a chance to engage in sex with one, two, three, or even four partners, he did, but it was mindless sex with no emotional entanglements. No! That way was not for him.

At eighteen, Jim was more of a handsome, hot, horny hunk than ever, and the guys he hung out with loved it when he allowed them to stroke him, or suck him, or even when he invaded their back passages with his pole of pleasure.

One day, Dicky, a friend, asked Jim if he would be interested in joining ‘The Lancers.’

“Well, maybe,” Jim replied. “Tell me about this club, or whatever it is.”

Dicky smirked and said, “Its real name is ‘The Gay Lancers,’ and we meet once a week for man-to-man sex.”

“Hmmm,” Jim said. “Sounds interesting. Yeah, count me in.”

“I should tell you that the dues are $500.00 a year. Will that be a problem?”

“No, my parents left me fairly well off.”

“The other thing is, you have to go through an initiation ceremony, but you’ll love it,” was Dicky’s reply.

“Sounds more and more interesting. When’s the next meeting?”

“As a matter of fact, it’s tomorrow night. How about I pick you up about 8:30?” Dicky asked. “Oh, and dress casual, very casual, if you catch my drift!”

“I’ll be ready,” Jim promised.

The next night Jim was ready, dressed in sandals, tight shorts and a tee shirt that had the motto ‘I-M-UP-4-N-E-1’ emblazoned on the front. He was ‘going commando [no underwear] and he carried a small bag filled with lubes and condoms.

When Dicky pulled up in his car, he laughed when he saw the message. “Bro, you’re gonna fit right in. Where’d you get the shirt?”

“A little shop called ‘Unchained Desires ®,’” Jim answered.

When they got to the meeting place, it was an old warehouse.

Jim cocked an eyebrow at Dicky. “This is it?”

“Yeah, don’t let the outside fool ya. It’s owned by one of the guys, and he’s fixing it up to be a gym by day and a ‘play house’ by night.”

When they walked in, Jim’s eyes almost popped out of his head in shock, surprise and pleasure. The room was carpeted in deep red, and the walls were painted a light blue. Around the top of the walls was a series of lancet windows, whose outlines formed mushroom capped penises. The floor was filled with tables, platforms, risers, of varying heights and these were occupied by men enjoying their own or other men’s bodies in all manner of poses.

Jim saw nine or ten studs, all enjoying the pleasures of each other’s bodies. One hunk was sucking another guy’s cock, while he in turn was being rimmed by a third guy. Two guys were engaging in 69, and another couple was grinding their bodies into each other’s crotch. Another hunk was beating his meat while two of his buddies watched.

“Come on, Jim. Changing room is over here. Let’s get comfortable, and then I’ll introduce you, and we can get ready to initiate you.”

When they came back out into the room, Dicky introduced Jim to the others. It’s hard to tell whether Jim was checking the other guys out more or whether they were checking him out more. Quite a few pairs of lips were licked in anticipation of the fun and games that Jim would be enjoying.

Three tall dudes stood before Jim. They wore transparent lycra speedos that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Cock, balls and bush were proudly on display. Each stud wore a scarlet hood that only had openings for eyes, nose and mouth.

The hunk in the middle spoke first. “Candidate, do you seek admission into this select club?”

“I do,” replied Jim.

The one on the left spoke. “Will you be a friend to all and join in whatever variety of activities please you?”

“I will,” was Jim’s ready reply.

The one on the right spoke next. “It is our custom for each member to assume a ‘nom de plaisir,’ so that we may address each other with informality. What name would you choose?”

Without thinking, Jim replied, “Call me Boner! James Boner!”

That response got a round of applause and whistles from the whole crowd, and not a few invitations.

The hooded figure in the center held up his hand for silence.

“James Boner, your answers and their acceptance by the other members have assured you membership in the Gay Lancers. Now we have to arrange for your initiation. Tell me, do you suck?”

“Gladly.”

“Do you like the taste of cum on your lips.”

“I do.”

“And do you like the feel of hot steamy cum in your bum?”

“Why, I . . . I have to confess, I’ve never received, only given it.”

“This shall be your initiation. Choose one of these members to take your ass cherry. You might choose ‘Peter the Butt Eater.”

Peter was five-foot-eleven with straight brown hair, green eyes, and a piece of cut meat that was ‘to die for.’

“Or perhaps you would want ‘Slick Dick’ to deflower your virgin ass.”

Dick was five-foot-ten with curly blond hair, a wide smile, and an uncut organ that stood straight out from his body.

“Then we have “Wrinkled Balls.” Would you like to feel his man-milk machines bouncing against your butt cheeks?”

The leader went around the room pointing out the various hunks would be more than willing to initiate Jim into the pleasures of anal sex.

Jim finally said, “All these guys are hot. I can’t make up my mind. Surprise me. Let anyone of them take me.”

“Again you have made a wise answer,” the leader said. “So be it. Fellow members of the club let us prepare the candidate.”

Someone put a blindfold over Jim’s eyes. Hands caressed his body, and lube covered fingers began the job of preparing Jim’s rectal canal for the next step.

Four pairs of hands, two on each side, lifted Jim and carried him horizontally to a platform where his friend Dicky lay on a bench with his legs over the side, and his organ pointed straight up, ready to impale Jim’s body.

Slowly Jim was lowered onto the waiting lance. He could feel the unknown helmet head pushing at his opening. He could feel the entire head moving into his body past his sphincter.

Jim felt a moment of discomfort, and let out a soft groan.

“You OK, man?” a voice asked.

“Uhhh, yeah, just give me a moment!”

The discomfort gave way to a feeling of intense pleasure as Jim felt this mass of pulsating muscle penetrate his most inner being. He thought he could feel a drop of precum lubricating his already moist canal.

Dicky began to slowly move in and out, each time pushing a little deeper into Jim’s love canal. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. And then . . .

Jim felt as if he were in paradise as the invading spear reached his acorn. “Aaaahhhhhh.”

“Ooooohhhh.”

Pure bliss. After a few minutes Jim felt a warm stream of cum flooding his insides, and then . . . and then . . . and then! He erupted with his own flow of lust-lava a good ten inches into the air. Three powerful spurts, and he hadn’t even touched himself. He had never had such an orgasm.

As he came back to earth, he heard Dicky’s voice whisper into his ear, “Ya done good, Buddy”

Jim became aware of more cheers and clapping. Someone removed his blindfold, and he saw the entire membership surrounding him. So aroused had many of his fellow Lancers been by his performance that they too had experienced their own orgasms. Their bodies were streaked with their ejaculate, and the air was filled with the odor of testosterone.

“James Boner, Welcome to the Gay Lancers,” the leader said and removed his helmet. He put his hands on Jim’s shoulders and drew him into a hug, and kissed him on the mouth. He was followed by all the other members of the club who congratulated Jim with hugs and kisses, and maybe a grope or two-but Jim didn’t mind.

Several years passed by, and Jim, or James Boner, had a lot of hot sex in the ‘Gay Lancers,’ but he never allowed himself to become too attached to any of his buddies. He knew that only heartbreak and disillusionment lay down that path.

One day when, he was twenty-one, one of his fellow members at the club said to him, “Say, Jim, you’ve got such a hot body, I’ll bet you could make some serious dough setting up an escort service for lonely guys—you know, traveling salesmen, guys who couldn’t or wouldn’t come to the club.”

“Hmmm,” said Jim. “I don’t really need the money, but . . .  I guess I’d be performing a service. I’ll  . . . think about it.

And so it came to pass that Jim set up his escort service for lonely guys. He only took clients who were recommended by someone he knew. He set up an office and had cards printed, ‘Boner. James Boner, Have hot pistol, will travel!’

His e mail address was ‘N-E-1-4-6-9@guysex.org.’

Gradually his list of clients grew. He would make initial contact by e-mail and list his fees. When a certified cashier’s check was sent to his post office box, he would visit the client and give satisfaction.

The clients had varying desires. Some just wanted to talk because they were lonely. Some wanted Jim to pose naked while they looked at his body and pleasured themselves.

Some wanted him to use his hands and they would reciprocate. Some wanted oral sex given and/or received.

Some clients would meet him and ask that he spank them because ‘they had been bad, very bad, and they wanted ‘Daddy’ to punish them.’

One client pleaded with him, “Oh, Sir, please punish me. I’ve been so bad. I need to be punished.”

Jim slowly stripped, allowing the client to see his body. He walked around and began to berate the client. “You miserable worm . . .You have been sooooo bad!  . . I’m going to have to hurt you.”

With each comment the client quivered with delight.

“Ohhhh, yes. That’s what I want. Punish me, for I have been doing soooo many bad things!”

Jim made the client take off his clothes and lay face down across Jim's lap, so that the client’s penis was between Jim’s leg, and Jim’s cock was lying against the client’s lower abdomen. Jim raised his hand and slapped the client on the bare butt. Again and again his hand came down—hard, and each time it did, Jim told the client how bad he had been, and he was being punished for all the nasty, naughty things he had done.

The client was so aroused by the spanking that he eventually shot his spunk onto Jim’s thighs.

“Now you’ve done it” Jim roared. “Get in the shower and you WILL clean every drip of your disgusting cum off my body, and then you will suck me off so you'll know what a real man’s cum tastes like.

 At the end of the session, the client thanked Jim for a marvelous experience, and said he would contact him for another session, soon!

One client met him at the door wearing only a towel. Ushering Jim into the living room, he dropped the towel, and straddled the arms of a chair with his butt raised, and said, “OK, prince of pricks, drop your shorts and shove your pole in my hole now, as hard and as deep as you can.”

Jim always aimed to give satisfaction and he always aimed straight and true, and fed his willing client a full load of hot steamy cum. The client was writhing in ecstasy and pleaded for more. So . . . Jim gave him more. He was a good businessman.

On Jim’s twenty-eighth Birthday, he had had a call to visit a new client. The client had told him he was new in town; he had just moved from Canada; and wanted company and some of  Jim’s special services. Jim had come highly recommended.

Jim thought, ‘Oh, why the hell not? It’s my birthday. I’d like to meet someone new.’

Accordingly, at the specified time, Jim showed up at the appointed address. He was met at the door by a hunk who appeared to be about his own age and height. The man was wearing a shirt and tie, and dark slacks. The unusual thing about him was that he was completely bald. No hair above the chin, except for two eyebrows of a reddish color.

Jim said, “Well, let’s get started, shall we?” He sat on the couch and unzipped his client's fly, and pulled out the man’s member, which was already pretty well aroused. The man leaned forward and kissed Jim on the cheek.

Jim pulled down his client's slacks and undershorts and began to lick his butt cheeks. He stuck his tongue out to invade the anal opening.

Jim lay back on the couch and his client pulled Jim’s slacks and briefs down. He began to lick the tip of Jim’s throbbing member. He started to lick the side of Jim’s shaft and as he did so, Jim noticed that he client’s hair was starting to grow back—a red color.

“Uhhh, ‘Carrots,’ is that you?” Jim asked. He couldn’t believe it.

“What did you call me? Nobody has called me ‘Carrots’ since I moved away from . . .”

The client looked at the stud that was servicing him.

“JIM! IS THAT REALLY YOU?”

“Yeah, ‘Carrots,’ it’s me, and why didn’t you write or send me an e-mail?”

“It was my Dad. He found out I was gay, and he tried to send me to a place that would ‘cure' me. He told me he had found out you were dead, and while I was away, he cancelled my email. Oh, shit! All these years I thought you were dead. Oh . . . oh . . .. , “ 

‘Carrots’ began to sob, and Jim was sobbing with him.

“Oh, my dear ‘Carrots,’ I’ve never allowed myself to care for anybody since you went away. I was afraid. . . .”

“Hush, Baby, I’m here now, and I’m not gonna leave you any more! Not ever!”

What began as a business transaction between a whore man and a client, became a celebration of love between two long-parted lovers.

Clothes were shed, lips, hands, and cocks explored the bodies of the two reunited lovers.

Their happiness was complete (That may be a cliché, but it was true, nevertheless!).

After Jim and ‘Carrots’ had consummated their love, not once, not twice, but three times that evening, they were lying wrapped in each other’s arms. Jim said, “Say, ‘Carrots’ in all these years, I’ve never known your real name.”

‘Carrots’ laughed and said, “Well, my real name is Jake, but in Canada, everybody called me  . . . Jacques!  I guess you can just call me Jacques, the Canuck! Eh?”

The End.

Feedback always welcome.    

Encourager’s remarks:  I sure am glad that “Carrots’ and Jim Boner got together again.  I hope they don’t wear themselves out, trying to make up for the years that they lost. E

Posted: 12/05/08