Cutting Expenses With an Incentive Compensation Plan for Cock and Ass

"I don't know.... Like you say, it's not technically dishonest, but you know Lovejoy would hit the ceiling if he ever found out,"

"Now, Marty, how the Hell would Lovejoy ever find out? Do you really think he's really coming to Hurst, Texas, to check on the lodging accommodations for two junior analysts? They sent us down here without supervision, not because they suddenly think we're competent to work on our own, but because nobody else in the firm was willing to come. They get twice as much work as they pay us for now, and the whole point of a per diem expense allowance is to keep the book- keeping smile," Ken declared, verbally twisting my arm.

He had a point. He and I had been sent to Hurst, Texas (population: 1350) to try to bring the operations of two tiny banks, one here, and one in Prior, a smaller (if you can believe it) town about 20 miles down the highway, into the twentieth century. The assignment in Prior had been easy, and all the analysis had already been finished, largely because the staff had been so cooperative. Hurst, however, was an entirely different matter. None of the bank's officer was younger than 50, and none of them had been working there less than 20 years or so. People like that never see the need for change, and these folks were certainly no exception. Ken and I were looking at working seven days a week for the next four weeks just to bring the studies in on deadline. Naturally, being salaried employees, the only extra compensation we'd get was a vague promise the company would "make it up to us" somewhere down the road. We'd both heard that before.

I guess his anger over the shoddy way we were being treated is why Ken came up with his own "incentive compensation plan." We were given $64 a day for lodging expenses, and Keith was suggesting that we share a room in the only hotel in a fifty mile radius, split the bill and pocket the difference. The way he figured it, we could make about $30 a day each on the savings. Between now and the end of the assignment, that would put about $840 in our pockets. I could certainly use it, and I knew that since Ken and his wife had divorced, he'd been hard pressed to pay for toothpaste.

"Yeah, I see your point, but my room's slightly bigger than yours. It's almost one now. You go over to the hotel, check out, then move in with me. Here's the key. Let the front desk know, so we can get another key and so they won't claim were cheating them out of anything," I agreed, pushing back the greasy plate that still held most of what the menu had called "lunch."

The afternoon was no more pleasant than the morning. Mr. Gregson, the president of the bank, was determined to throw up every obstacle he could. To him it made no difference that our client owned 77% of the bank's stock. He referred the First National Bank of Hurst as "my bank," and in 42 years of moving up the ranks from teller to bookkeeper to every other job in the place, he'd come to believe that the bank really was his. It made him no difference that the bank hadn't paid a dividend on its stock in eight years. The way he saw it, the bank was his own personal realm, and he was the Lord and Master of that domain.

I was deep in thought, trying to interpret some very cryptic general ledger entries when my thoughts were interrupted. "Are you guys about ready to go? I'll be through in about 15 minutes, and I have to lock up." Julie Bradshaw, the bright young accounting clerk who spoke those words, stood there waiting for our reply.

"Yeah, I'm not getting much done now anyway, I'm too tired to think clearly. It's after nine, do you know where we can get a bite to eat that won't kill us this time of night?"

"Well, I can't guarantee you that it won't kill you, but your only choice at this time of night is the Dairy Queen. I like the country fried steak basket," she answered before spinning on her heel and heading back to her own work. Jill was a hardworking graduate of UT in banking and finance, but so far, all the banking she'd had a chance at was handling the bank's bookkeeping, a job she did well, but which was far below her capabilities. I thought briefly about including a section in our report recommending her promotion, but I knew it would just be thrown out. No sense worrying about somebody else's problems when you have enough of your own, huh? Ken had already packed his stuff away when Jill got back, and I was busy stuffing the last of the work papers into my job case. Each of us realized how tired the others were, and I don't think we said anything to one another, merely nodding a good-bye, as Ken and I climbed into the rented Chevrolet Celebrity which was the only car parked on main street, Jill's car being tucked away in the back in the employee parking lot.

We found the Dairy Queen, ordered and ate Jill's recommendation, so tired that we hardly noticed that there was almost no taste besides that of grease.

"I think I'll hold off on enjoying the Hurst night life," Ken joked. "I need some sleep."

In silent agreement, I rose and headed to the car. The Hurst Hotel was a welcome sight when we pulled up in front of it a few minutes later. Originally built at the turn of the century, the hotel had once done a booming business because of the railroad, but in the four week's I'd been staying there, I was never aware of more than five or six other rooms being rented, mostly to traveling salesmen who'd driven all they could stand for one day.

"Remember you need to sign for another key," Ken prodded me as I walked into the lobby. I headed straight over to the desk, asked for an additional key, and after paying a $3 key deposit, handed it to Ken with the admonition, "Remember you owe me three bucks."

Once we were in the room, I threw my stuff on the floor by the bed I'd already claimed as mine, then fell across the bed. I was too tired to notice that the bed was lumpy, or that bedspreads were old and frayed.

"I was going to say I'd flip you for the first shower, but it looks like I win that one by default," he laughed. I turned my head toward him and grunted my agreement. I'd never really thought about it before, but Ken was amazingly good looking.

Around 35, he was about 6' tall, with black hair that contained just enough gray to look "distinguished." As he shed the shirt and tie, then the pants, then the T-shirt, I saw he'd taken good care of his body. His chest was broad, well muscled, and covered with a curly version of the hair on his head. His stomach wasn't completely flat, but it had just enough "pooch" to give it a sexy look. He was wearing low-rise briefs that looked like they'd been washed every day for the last five years or so they were so thin. I could see his dick clearly outlined, tucked up toward his belly button, looking at least 4" soft, and extra thick. The remainder of the tremendous bulge was attributable to the big, hairy balls I could see almost as clearly as if he'd had nothing on. Ken's cock and balls were perfect for long sucking and licking sessions, and the sight before reminded me just how long it had been since I'd had such a hot cock to work on.

When he turned his back, ambivalent about the presence of "just another guy," I saw that he had a glorious ass that, because of the loose cut of the cheap suits he wore, I'd never noticed before. There was a clear outline of an abundance of that black hair running down his crack, and the cheeks were well rounded, without being at all feminine. In short, it was the sort of ass I'd love to lick and tongue- fuck for hours, then finger while I guided that hot cock up my own hot hole.

I was glad I was lying on my back, since the show had given me quite a hardon. He moved on into the bathroom and when I heard the water running, I got up, undressed and wiggled into my robe, intending to be ready to jump in the shower as soon as Ken came out. There was just one problem: my rigid prick refused to go down, the earlier sights being the closest thing I'd had to sex with anything but my fist in almost a month. I'd never been one to jerk off in the shower, and while it would be risky to lie down and jack off now, I knew I'd hear the shower stop running a minute or so before Ken could get dried off and come out into the bedroom. I wanted to jack off, and more than that I needed to jack off, lest Ken figure out the source of my hardon. The job I had might not be much, but it paid the bills, and if word got out in the company I was gay, I'd be gone in a New York instant.

As I lay back on the bed, my robe fell open, exposing my hard manmeat. I began slowly, gently stroking my thick six-inch cock, the visions of Ken's hot body galloping through my head, embellished with my own ideas of how hot I could make it. I carefully planned how hot it would be to draw his naked body to mine, kiss him deep, then lick a trail down his chin and neck to those hot pecs. I could spend a while just running my fingers through the thick fur on his chest, and then sucking each of the deep brown nips carefully, till they stood out like BB's. I worked three fingers back and forth in my mouth, as I slowly savored the feelings coming to my dick from the ministrations of the other hand, pretending those fingers were Ken's big dick in my mouth. Even tired, my imagination is particularly vivid, and I could almost feel the pliant, fleshy head of his cock rubbing all around my cheeks and bumping against the back of my throat. I raised my legs automatically, as I moved Ken's imaginary dick from my mouth to my asshole, imagining just how good it would be to feel him slowly, gently sinking his manmeat deep into my fuckhole. I love a slow, gentle fuck, and I could almost feel Ken's big low-hung balls bouncing against my butt cheeks as he worked his dick back and forth in my hole in the slow, in and out, then round and round motions that made my ass hole sing! I began raising my ass on the outstroke of my fingers, in my imagination working to keep that hot cock buried deep inside me just as long as I could. In my mind, I could feel Ken's fuck stick quiver and swell inside me, as my own cock grew closer and closer to explosion in my fist.

"Hey, Marty, you got any..."

Shit! Ken was standing in the bathroom door, still partly wet, with one of the cheap hotel towels wrapped around his waist, his question frozen in mid sentence as he stared in disbelief at his roommate fisting his dick while he fingered his asshole. The shower was still running, rendering my planned "early warning system" ineffective. I quickly pulled the robe closed, though it did little to hide the remainder of my hard-on. My cock, so close to orgasm, seemed not care that I'd been caught, subjected to great embarrassment and the possible need to find a new job.

"Ken, I'm sorry. I'll call downstairs and have them get your room ready again. I hope we can keep this just between us."

The blank expression on his face was so cold, so steely, my mind was already racing to think how I might be able to talk my way out of this one. I was still deep in thought, when without ever changing expressions, he said "Here's all I'm going to keep between us tonight," dropping his towel to reveal a dick that was only about half hard, but well on it's way to seven inches already.

"Come here and suck it good and hard, then I'll show you what you really need up your ass."

While he didn't say it, the tone of his voice made it clear he was talking to a "cocksucker," but I was in no position to take offense. I hurriedly scrambled over where he stood, sunk to my knees and began to suck on that big dick head, working my tongue under the loose flap of skin, and all around the edges of his cock crown while my hands busied themselves with his balls.

Once his pecker was fully hard, I eased away from it just long enough to admire it. It was definitely the biggest cock I'd ever had, and I couldn't resist the temptation to ask "How big is it?"

"Last time I checked it was a little over 9", now get busy and see if you can take it all the way to the balls."

I didn't like his attitude, but I sure liked his dick, and I resumed my earlier ministrations, working my mouth up and down on his cock while I stroked the base of the shaft and fingered his balls. Only a minute or two later, I felt Ken lock his hands on each side of my head, pulling me back and forth, on and off that thick dick. At first, the wide, bulbous head of his cock bouncing against my throat made me gag, but Ken seemed not to notice or care. He just continued fucking my face with that huge tool, till a few strokes later, I felt his dick slide past the flesh guarding entrance to my throat and slide down, down, down my gullet till my lips were pressed firmly against my balls.

"Breathe through your nose," he said in a ragged voice that betrayed the eminence of his orgasm. Actually, I had little choice since the short, quick thrusts he was making pulled no more than a half inch or an inch of dick from my throat. It was breathe through my nose or don't breathe.

I calmed down just enough to keep from suffocating, and found it much easier to breathe than I thought it might be. The feel of that long, hot dick buried in my throat, swelling and twitching as it prepared to blast a huge load was hotter than I would ever have dreamed! On a lark, I began to swallow, the muscles in my throat working to deliver excruciating ecstasy to Ken.

"Oh, that's it... that's it... suck it good... here it cums!" His yelling could have been heard in any of the adjacent rooms had there been anyone to hear it.

The feel of his hot jizz spurting down my throat, directly into my gut was more than my frustrated dick could take. Without ever touching it, it began to spray it's own hot manjuice, and my balls were dancing back and forth in the joy of release.

Ken continued to fuck my mouth slowly, till the last of his essence was drained away, and his prick had shrunk to about half its former prodigious size. He pulled his cock out of his mouth, pointed at his hairy legs, now coated with splashes of my cum and said, "You made a mess... clean it up."

I'd never considered myself the "submissive" type, but I gratefully licked my own juices from his legs, my cock regaining its hardness quickly. When I'd finished the task, Ken moved away slightly, then said "Get me some shampoo so I can finish in the shower. While I'm in there, grease your asshole if you want it greased, because when I come back, I'm gonna fuck that butt like it's never been fucked before..."

I tell everyone in the office what a pain in the ass those weeks in Hurst, Texas were. I just don't tell them what caused that pain!

Become a Patreon to support Taletopia!

written by anonymous