Going to try to keep this going -- let me know what you think! Inspired by parts of my life, based on some real people, but obviously blown way out into fantasy world, as much as I wished for a lot of this to have happened.
PART 1: FIRST DAY
Fresh out of college, after months of living at his parents’ house, Wayne was ecstatic to be starting his first day at work. He had started to think that – thanks to graduating into a looming recession with an English degree – he’d never land a real job. And to get a communications job at one of the hottest startups in the world, one that paid to relocate him to New York City from rural Illinois, felt too good to be true.
Showing up early in his suit and tie, Wayne wanted to make a great first impression. However, as the elevator opened onto the 7th floor open-floor office space, he realized he might have been a little too eager. The office looked completely empty. It was 8:30am – when did people start working in this city? Unsure where to sit, Wayne deposited his bag in one of the reception area chairs and walked down the adjacent hallway in search of the bathroom.
Thankfully he found it fairly easily, and ducked into the surprisingly small men’s room to fix his appearance. It was a hot day in the city, and Wayne was surprised by how humid and sticky the city could get. He checked himself out in the mirror – his sandy blonde hair was darkening with sweat, and beads collected in his stubble. His flushed face accentuated his blue eyes, making him look every bit the Midwestern farm boy his family assumed he would grow up to be, just like every other man in his family. He lifted an arm to check his pit and noticed the first few drops of sweat. “Shit,” he said, and, quickly, he removed his suit jacket, untied his tie, and unbuttoned his button-down. Without even considering the fact that he was suddenly stripping to his bare chest on his first day, he grabbed a handful of paper towels and started drying the sweat from his body. In the mirror, he watched himself dab at his toned chest and abs that showed the results of years spent in division 1 tennis tournaments. He dabbed the paper towel along the treasure trail of light brown hair that drifted below his pants. He unbuckled his belt and opened the front of his pants to attempt to dry down there a bit, too.
Suddenly, and as he should have predicted, the bathroom door swung open like a gunshot, making Wayne jump. A huge figure stepped through the doorway, immediately recognizable to Wayne. In his customary uniform of gray pants and a tight black T-shirt, Evan Legano – billionaire, frequent Forbes coverboy, and owner and CEO of this very company – appeared every bit the powerhouse as he did on TV and Twitter. He was bigger than the photos and videos suggested, over 6 feet, the kind of rugby player/movie star body you can only get through blessed genetics and one of the planet’s most expensive personal trainers. His salt-and-pepper, perfectly-coiffed hair and stubble showed, now that Wayne was up-close, no signs of the rumored hair transplant he got when he turned 40. His chest and arms bulged from under the tight black shirt as he strode into the bathroom. Wayne was suddenly very aware of how small the bathroom was – just two urinals and a single stall. He froze, one hand holding his pants open, the other buried in his own crotch.
“Well, now I know why they keep saying I should hire an HR person,” Evan said, while sauntering over to one of the urinals. Wayne gulped as he heard the slow slide of a zipper, followed by the heavy stream of piss into the urinal. He knew he’d be working for this man, but he really didn’t think Evan spent any actual time at the office. Didn’t he pay people to work while he flew around the world with various models? And now here he was – a legitimate billionaire, one of the most famous men in the world, with his penis out in the same room as Wayne.
“I’m sorry, sir. The heat, I wasn’t expecting to get so sweaty” Wayne offered, half-heartedly. He quickly threw on his button-down and tucked it back into his pants.
The sound of splashing stopped and, over his shoulder in the mirror’s reflection, Wayne saw Evan’s arm and back moving as the billionaire shook himself dry over the urinal. Turning around and approaching the sinks, he looked directly at Wayne in the mirror as he zipped himself up. Wayne quickly averted his eyes from the man’s crotch, but not before noticing a tuft of dark hair inside the open fly.
“That’s why none of us dress like that,” Evan said, and without warning he reached across and grabbed the hem of Wayne’s unbuttoned dress shirt. He rubbed the material between his thumb and index finger, appreciating it. Evan, already hot, felt the heat of Wayne’s hand against his chest, the motion of his thumb rubbing against his exposed chest hairs. He felt his cock begin to stir in his pants and he began to panic. “It is a nice shirt, though. You new?”
“Yes, sir. Wayne, communications,” Wayne stammered. His cock continued to swell, straining against his boxer briefs. He knew his 6.5” dick wasn’t big enough to be obvious in regular pants, but in these thin dress pants he couldn’t be sure he didn’t have a thick bulge running down the side of his thigh at this point. He was too afraid to look down and check.
“Wayne, huh?” Evan said, letting go of the shirt and stepping back. He looked Wayne up and down – did he hesitate over the crotch area or was that Wayne’s imagination? – and smirked. “Redneck name but a nice suit. ” And with that rude comment, the billionaire walked out of the bathroom, leaving Wayne to stare at himself in the mirror and breathe until his cock went back down so he could start his first day.
PART 1: FIRST DAY
Fresh out of college, after months of living at his parents’ house, Wayne was ecstatic to be starting his first day at work. He had started to think that – thanks to graduating into a looming recession with an English degree – he’d never land a real job. And to get a communications job at one of the hottest startups in the world, one that paid to relocate him to New York City from rural Illinois, felt too good to be true.
Showing up early in his suit and tie, Wayne wanted to make a great first impression. However, as the elevator opened onto the 7th floor open-floor office space, he realized he might have been a little too eager. The office looked completely empty. It was 8:30am – when did people start working in this city? Unsure where to sit, Wayne deposited his bag in one of the reception area chairs and walked down the adjacent hallway in search of the bathroom.
Thankfully he found it fairly easily, and ducked into the surprisingly small men’s room to fix his appearance. It was a hot day in the city, and Wayne was surprised by how humid and sticky the city could get. He checked himself out in the mirror – his sandy blonde hair was darkening with sweat, and beads collected in his stubble. His flushed face accentuated his blue eyes, making him look every bit the Midwestern farm boy his family assumed he would grow up to be, just like every other man in his family. He lifted an arm to check his pit and noticed the first few drops of sweat. “Shit,” he said, and, quickly, he removed his suit jacket, untied his tie, and unbuttoned his button-down. Without even considering the fact that he was suddenly stripping to his bare chest on his first day, he grabbed a handful of paper towels and started drying the sweat from his body. In the mirror, he watched himself dab at his toned chest and abs that showed the results of years spent in division 1 tennis tournaments. He dabbed the paper towel along the treasure trail of light brown hair that drifted below his pants. He unbuckled his belt and opened the front of his pants to attempt to dry down there a bit, too.
Suddenly, and as he should have predicted, the bathroom door swung open like a gunshot, making Wayne jump. A huge figure stepped through the doorway, immediately recognizable to Wayne. In his customary uniform of gray pants and a tight black T-shirt, Evan Legano – billionaire, frequent Forbes coverboy, and owner and CEO of this very company – appeared every bit the powerhouse as he did on TV and Twitter. He was bigger than the photos and videos suggested, over 6 feet, the kind of rugby player/movie star body you can only get through blessed genetics and one of the planet’s most expensive personal trainers. His salt-and-pepper, perfectly-coiffed hair and stubble showed, now that Wayne was up-close, no signs of the rumored hair transplant he got when he turned 40. His chest and arms bulged from under the tight black shirt as he strode into the bathroom. Wayne was suddenly very aware of how small the bathroom was – just two urinals and a single stall. He froze, one hand holding his pants open, the other buried in his own crotch.
“Well, now I know why they keep saying I should hire an HR person,” Evan said, while sauntering over to one of the urinals. Wayne gulped as he heard the slow slide of a zipper, followed by the heavy stream of piss into the urinal. He knew he’d be working for this man, but he really didn’t think Evan spent any actual time at the office. Didn’t he pay people to work while he flew around the world with various models? And now here he was – a legitimate billionaire, one of the most famous men in the world, with his penis out in the same room as Wayne.
“I’m sorry, sir. The heat, I wasn’t expecting to get so sweaty” Wayne offered, half-heartedly. He quickly threw on his button-down and tucked it back into his pants.
The sound of splashing stopped and, over his shoulder in the mirror’s reflection, Wayne saw Evan’s arm and back moving as the billionaire shook himself dry over the urinal. Turning around and approaching the sinks, he looked directly at Wayne in the mirror as he zipped himself up. Wayne quickly averted his eyes from the man’s crotch, but not before noticing a tuft of dark hair inside the open fly.
“That’s why none of us dress like that,” Evan said, and without warning he reached across and grabbed the hem of Wayne’s unbuttoned dress shirt. He rubbed the material between his thumb and index finger, appreciating it. Evan, already hot, felt the heat of Wayne’s hand against his chest, the motion of his thumb rubbing against his exposed chest hairs. He felt his cock begin to stir in his pants and he began to panic. “It is a nice shirt, though. You new?”
“Yes, sir. Wayne, communications,” Wayne stammered. His cock continued to swell, straining against his boxer briefs. He knew his 6.5” dick wasn’t big enough to be obvious in regular pants, but in these thin dress pants he couldn’t be sure he didn’t have a thick bulge running down the side of his thigh at this point. He was too afraid to look down and check.
“Wayne, huh?” Evan said, letting go of the shirt and stepping back. He looked Wayne up and down – did he hesitate over the crotch area or was that Wayne’s imagination? – and smirked. “Redneck name but a nice suit. ” And with that rude comment, the billionaire walked out of the bathroom, leaving Wayne to stare at himself in the mirror and breathe until his cock went back down so he could start his first day.
