White Collar Tales Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)
WARNING: The following is for adults only. It contains depiction of sexual acts between men. If this offends you or is inappropriate for you to read, go no further.
For more of my stories, check out the authors page at Nifty. If you're enjoying this or my series of white collar stories, feel free to drop a line: billdrake@hotmail.com. Thanks to Nifty Archive for hosting these stories. Please consider a donation to keep the Archive running. The site needs donations for its continued operation.
White Collar Tales #20 Man on the Street
It wasn't Dave Klein's favorite assignment - Grand Central Station, smack in the midst of afternoon rush hour, getting man on the street interviews about the fare hikes on the commuter train. This isn't what I went to J school for, Dave said to himself, thinking about the investigative stories he'd rather be working on as the crew set up. Still, he had to admit that he was riding high, in his dream job just four years out of Medill. Morning reporter for a network affiliate in New York, with prospects good for moving to cable news if not one of the national networks.
Klein was bright and talented enough for the job, but half of what made him star material was intangible. That half-cocked grin that rode underneath the decorum of his serious on-air delivery. That Midwestern sincerity which seemed only amplified over airwaves. A soothing yet authoritative voice. His strong, lean athletic build, sculpted up from years of lacrosse then a religious gym routine. The slim-lapelled designer suits draped perfectly on the trim, muscular contours of his form. Add to that a handsomeness that men of 29 rarely possess: firm jawline, roman nose, wide smile, and a high crown of a forehead leading straight up to the full thicket of hair swept back with pomade each day by the station stylist.
Dave's looks were so stunning in fact that the reporter had been named the city's Most Eligible Bachelor by New York magazine. Whenever he went out, women would throw themselves at him. Only they didn't know that this up-and-coming television personality had a deep, secreted preference for other men. Older men. Dave himself was just discovering it.
It had started two months ago. His boss's best friend, Jeff Rowan. Office Christmas party... too much booze... some double entendres, then a cab ride straight to Rowan's Upper West Side co-op. Dave lost his cherry that night.
"Excuse me. Sir..." A tall businessman was rushing his way. 6'5" and big framed. The sort of man Dave always marveled at. The sort of man who made him consider moving to the Connecticut suburbs. The man stopped six feet away from the young reporter and the cameraman, but seemed none too happy to be impeded on his way to the platform.
"Yeah?" the man barked, shuffling his folded Financial Times underneath the same arm that carried his gun metal gray overcoat. "What do you want?"
"We're from Channel 8 News. Do you have a second to give us your thoughts on camera?"
He sighed in annoyance and looked at his watch. "Look bub, I got six minutes before my train. Think you can get through your questions in that time?"
Inwardly, Dave smiled. The type-A brusqueness was a turn on.
"Thanks, I'll make it three and a half minutes tops, sir," he said cheekily. As he talked he assessed the man's impeccable dress. Examining the small details - the shoes, the haircut, the manicure - he guessed this man well into the six figure income bracket. Well-cut, sharp-looking suit, neither too flashy nor too conservative. Probably in his late 30s, the suburban financier was his type to a T.
"First," Dave started. "Name and profession?"
"Michael Harris, hedge fund manager, Orion Fund."
"Town of residence?"
"Greenwich."
"Sir, as you may know, Metro North is proposing another fare hike this spring, and with ridership down, the mayor is criticizing the board of directors and calling for a special bond measure. Do you have any thoughts?"
"Thoughts? Yeah. The Metro North board is the most wasteful bureaucratic body in New York, and that's saying a lot. Ridership is actually trending upward despite the fares. And the mayor is a clown. You men can use the first two, the last is off the record," he chuckled. "Anything else?"
Dave was a little slackjawed. "No... I don't think so." He turned to Jim, his cameraman who shook his head. "That's it. Thanks."
He laughed and looked at his watch. "Two minutes flat. Good job. Evening, gentlemen," he said, and rushed off down the corridor toward the platforms.
Dave stared transfixed as he made out the firm shape of the man's round buttocks showing beneath the swaying flaps of his suit jacket as he rushed off.
"Man you gotta love this city," Jim quipped as he disassembled the light and sound from the camera and started packing it up. "You heading back to the station, Klein?"
"Nah, bud, it's been a long day. I'm just gonna grab a bit to eat, maybe stop for happy hour, then head home."
"All right," the blonde crewman replied, lifting the heavy equipment case. A little pause in his voice. Newly married by four months, he was already missing the happy hours that were now a rare treat. "See you tomorrow then."
Dave was still a little shell-shocked. As he looked around Grand Central, he took it all in. Scores, hundreds, of attractive men. He gulped and felt the frog in his throat as a fever of horniness set in. He wanted one of these businessmen. Wanted to take one back to his apartment and undress him slowly, savoring each article of clothing. Maybe blow him in his suit. That's what he would have done with Harris. Would have gotten down on his knees in Grand Central if the man asked him to, he thought. "What a freakin' pervert I am," he chuckled inwardly.
Then, breaking his private dazed fantasy, a strong hand clasped his suited shoulder. Harris. All smiles, gruffness temporarily gone. "Hey, bub, sorry to startle you. I missed my train, so I came back to apologize for being rude just now."
"I should be apologizing... for making you miss your train," Dave assured him, flashing a friendly smile. Little did he know it was that smile that brought Michael back. "A little rudeness is the least we can expect stopping you guys in the middle of rush hour."
"Well, that's not the only reason I came back. Tell me if I'm out of line here, but I was thinking I could book a room nearby and we can spend the next hour getting a little romantic, you know. Relieve a little stress. Whaddya say?"
Dave could barely speak, so he nodded.
The businessman smiled in amusement. "Cat got your tongue? Guess you reporters talk all day, you don't have anything left in ya. It's OK, Mr. Channel 8 Reporter, you're not gonna have to do much talking."
As the two walked out, Michael whipped out his phone. "Yeah, honey, it's me... Listen, I missed my train. The next one won't be leaving for another hour fifteen minutes. No, it's OK, I'm just gonna hang out at the station and catch up on some work. All right, see you soon. Love ya."
Dave felt guilty. He was an accessory to some deep, primal betrayal, but he couldn't stop himself. This man had a spell on him.
The two men didn't bother turning on the hotel room light. As they stepped inside, Michael pinned the younger man to the wall and kissed him square on the mouth. His hands traveled down Dave's taut build to latch on to two bubbles of gluteal muscle through the reporter's suit.
"Damn, you're hot, guy. Fucking knew I had to go back and give it a try. See if I could bed your hot ass. Fucking perfect jock ass," he said, kneading Dave's butt muscle. The two kissed harder. "Yeah, you're gonna put out for me? Tell me you get fucked, bub. Tell me you wanna bend over for it."
"Yeah," Dave answered in a trance. His hands were groping the iron spike of businessman cock through the material of Michael's crotch. That prick felt firm, meaty, and definitely hard. "Yeah, I get fucked. I love getting fucked." Arms clasped around each other's form, and their crotches ground into one another. "I wanna lift my legs, rest my calves on those beefy shoulder of yours and fucking give it up. Let you punch that prick in me."
"Oh yeah, Reporter boy, I'm gonna fuck your eyeballs back into your head. Crawl into the saddle and ride you til it's time to flip you over and go to town on the other side. I haven't had a good bout of buttbuddy sex in a long time. I'm hot to trot, boy."
Dave gripped that horny cock. The hard prick felt heavy and hot beneath the soft wool fabric. "Gonna tame that beast, if you give me time. Count out loud every single inch you push in, every load you shoot. You going to get your nut a few times, sir? I wish you were the one to break me in. The guy who did opened me up to a man's cock, then left me high and dry. Left me hungry."
"Only got an hour, bub. But treat me right, and sure as shit I'll be coming back for more."
"Man, sir, I'm gonna..."
"Yeah, feel my muscles, work the stress out of 'em."
"You got an amazing body, I just want to worship every inch."
"That feels good, boy, feeling your hands and your mouth traveling south. I think I know where you're heading."
"Let me help you." The sound of a belt buckle clinking and zipper unzipping followed.
"Wow. You're uncut. Nice."
"Never handled a natural one? Yeah, that's right. Start at the hood, tease me a little... Now dig underneath the folds a little with your tongue. Oh man, that's it. Get my juice leaking big time."
"Mann... you're dripping right into my hand. Big time."
"Yeah, I get like that."
"You're making my hand all wet."
"I'd love to have you play with it all night, buddy, but I don't have a lot of time." The businessman reached into his inside coat pocket to pull out a plastic tube. "Here we go. Hope Vaseline's OK. Was all they had at that station drug store."
Dave's cock jumped up and down in excitement. "Suits me fine." He stood up and hurriedly fumbled with his belt and zipper.
"Damn, stud, you're boned aren't ya? There, feels good huh? You like my hand stroking your rod?"
The two kissed, with a renewed passion, as Dave removed his trousers over his shiny brown dress shoes.
When they broke, Michael Harris was all smiles. "All right, Reporter Boy, on your stomach. Oooh nice... hot round buns. Goddamn perfect ass. You sure this butt's only been breached once?" The bed weight shifted as Dave felt the businessman's presence behind him, kneeling between the spread legs. Impetuously the man flipped over Dave's suit coat and shirt to expose his ass.
"Yessir. Got a feeling I'm going to be getting it more."
"Fuck! Nearly virgin. I can feel it, damn, your tight and hot."
"Your finger's big. You got a real fat finger, man."
"My cock's fatter."
"Oh, God!"
"I take that as 'more'?"
"Yes, more, sir. Ugh!"
"Easy does it. Nice, tight hole you got, buddy. I'm gonna love this."
"Aw work it in, man.
The two lay in silence for a minute as Dave slowly got used to one, then two fingers. Then he felt the telltale nudge of the businessman's cock.
His first impulse was to seize up and resist the pressure, but he made every effort to think of sexual thoughts. His boss's friend breaking him in, fucking him. Trying to remember how great it felt to have Jeff Rowan's cock riding him. Anticipating how much he wanted Mike Harris's cock in him.
Then suddenly Harris stretched his body so he was lying flat on top of Dave. The reporter could feel the weight, the muscle, the heat, but most of all the luxurious fabric of his tailored suit and lightly starched dress shirt against his lower back and butt. His pucker opened right up and the businessman's prick eased right in.
"Holy fuck!" Mike Harris growled into his ear. The normally talkative top was otherwise speechless as he felt his hard penis probe the tight, slick confines of Klein's ass. Gently, he started rocking his hips, then soon was all-out fucking.
Dave Klein was ecstatic feeling that horny hedge fund manager cock bore into him.
Harris was fucking away now, huffing and grunting as he eagerly shafted his on-air pretty boy like it was his last fuck on earth.
Dave in turn started undulating his hips, contracting his abs and hiking his butt up. He wiggled his ass hungrily against the hard thrusting cock, trying to get more in him, with deeper penetration. It was working. That bare, Vaseline-slick head poked and prodded his inner gland, sending stars of pleasure coursing through his body.
"Oh, fuck! Oh fuck! You're gonna fuck me off if you keep doing that man!"
That made the businessman fuck harder and faster and soon he was growling in his orgasm. His cock spurted an unbelievable load of juice, soaking the tight slick reporter ass. He was enjoying his own ejaculation too much to realize that Dave was cumming into the bed sheets beneath him.
The two lie there for a minute. Dave could feel Mike's heartbeat through the layers for clothing. He could feel Mike's cock, too. It was still hard and throbbing and buried up his well-fucked rectum. Only now, the dick was slick with the man's sperm. Slowly, he felt it withdraw, then Mike lifting his body up off him.
"Man, buddy, you were great. Just what the doctor ordered." Mike looked around the room for a kleenex then wiped off his jizz-and-Vaseline covered prick. Still smiling in post-coital bliss, he tucked his now softening dick back into this suit trousers. He wiped off the crotch, but thankfully nothing had dripped onto the fabric. "Fuck, we gotta do that again."
"Yeah," Dave croaked. He was content - more than content - but as he turned over onto his back, he was a little concerned about how much this man had shot in him. His own ejaculation had been intense and full and there was a huge wet spot in the sheets now.
The fund manager grinned as he looked down on Dave, clearly appraising his conquest and enjoying the sight. He pulled out his wallet and fished for a business card. He teasingly flicked onto Dave's reclining body.
"Call me, buddy." Doing a double check to make sure he had his phone, he picked up his overcoat. "Gotta catch my train now."
"Yeah," Dave nodded. "Thanks for this, man."
"My pleasure. And Dave?"
The reporter was a little surprised. He wasn't even sure the guy knew his name. "Yeah?"
"Next time - you fuck me."
He winked and walked out the hotel room door.