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On the Board 2
By Emile, 2010
Usual caveats apply.
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Now Cam was getting scared. Not just of being ruptured by Logan's pile driving dong, but of the accelerating degradation at Will's hands. That first night, when he'd been casually having drinks, he remembered hinting that he and Mindy were thinking of taking it to the next level, and how Will had shot out of his armchair, grabbing Cam in a squirrel grip that made him cry out and drop his whisky in pain. "You want a piece of me eh, first the job, then my daughter's pussy, now you want in to the family, too? Cam, unsure what to say, let out a meek "Yes". Will relaxed his grip, but kept hold of Cam's junk through his chinos, his face turning from rage into a sneering grin. "So" he said, now sliding his hand around, roughly massaging his junk through the material "exactly how bad do you want to be a Miner?"
After that night, he avoided Will, pretending it was a one-off, still getting about like a big shot in expensive suits at endless social events. But two weeks later, and coming home late one night, he pulled his Bentley into the drive to see their new gardener, Julio, standing there in just his shorts, waiting for him. Cam hadn't understood why they needed the muscular worker and his even more musclebound teen son, the garden took barely an hour a day, so they spent most of the time just lounging around working on their bodies and tans, leering at his wife. But it had been one of Will's engagement presents, so he put up with the humiliation of having the two leering leeches almost under his roof. Julio was glistening in the headlights, his whole body pumped, and Cam could see a bunch of workout equipment behind him in the garage, blocking the carspace. He got out of the car to tell him off quietly, before Mindy heard, but Julio just crossed his arms and began talking. "I got a message for you from your papi" he growled "he said get rid of the car, you get a driver into work from now." Cam took two steps up the drive, engine still running, and saw Julio's son Clint heaving away at the bench press, also soaked. "Yah he let us move our stuff here since you won't be needing no garage, and he said you needed to get in shape aswell. In fact, gringo, he insisted, so get rid of the suit, we got some trainin to do." Cam hesitated, he was pretty solid himself, but not against two muscle jocks. "Uh, okay, let me go inside and get some gear" he said nervously, figuring he would find an excuse once Mindy knew he was home." "Fuck no" Julio answered "just strip to your boxers man, you better get used to it, Will said we gotta train you every day, whatever time you get back." Cam was pretty embarrassed and incensed that he came home to be told what to do by them. Midway through the gruelling workout, Julio was sitting on his thighs, his on package straining to touch Cam's own as Cam did crunches, each rep almost bringing his nose into the cleft of Julio's chest, while Clint stood over, his junk dangling down for Cam to see every time he returned to the floor, as he counted each rep. Then they dropped a bomb. "Eh Mr C" Clint began "you wife, she's pretty fine." He broke stroke, struggling to get at the cheeky kid, but he was still pinned by Julio on his thighs. Julio dug in, pushing him down with one easy hand to his chest. "Oh yeah, she is fine, whooee. Say, you out on business pretty often Mr C, you wouldn't mind if we brought her dinner one night, would you?"
Of course it wasn't all fucking and suck jobs at the office, they still had work to be done, so when the party was over, the executives left Cam's office a mess of cumslop, and went to their daily activities. Cam wasn't allowed to clean himself up, or even soak up the dick juice, so he slowly pulled the tailored shirt over his broad back, letting the slugs of scum soak into the cotton, before gingerly bending over and sliding the silk lined suit back over his legs, hefting his stuffed jockstrap into the crotch and fitted arse to squelch against his battered leaking hole. Will insisted on a full suit for executives, even the fucktrash like Cam, so he laced his shoes and slipped his thin tie around his broad neck, pulling the knot back to the clavicle tight and letting the tie nestle into the cleft of his chest, even though it forced the light shirt to stick to his chest plates like a tissue in gravy. He eased himself back into his seat, trying to ignore the pain and stickiness, and the lingering smell of sweat and cockcheese that clung to his rugged body. Slowly, he began ungluing the letters, smoothing them out as best as he could, ready to rewrite them. "We are very grateful for your feedback" one read, "Miner Industries is a family company, that values old-fashioned values...". It had been part of the exchange for Mindy's hand in marriage and his share of the future profits - becoming communications director, the ultimate company man in public - their mouthpiece. Worst of all, cum what may, the letters kept rolling in, so his workload was always twice that of the junior loud dick-swinging executives, and his task alone.
Around midday, the buzz grew louder in the hall, as all the executives and secretaries got together for their lunch break. Slowly the sound ebbed away, and Cam relaxed in the two or three hours silence when he could pretend this was an ordinary job while they ate. Cam was used to the hunger by now - even though Will had a fat cat's paunch, he thought Cam should have a controlled diet - and his lunches and work dinners were limited to the illegible Swedish cartons that Will stocked in Cam's executive fridge. That was all he had, in fact - ten brown cardboard cubes a week of this foul gritty tasting viscous milk. He'd given up trying to guess what was in them, finding nothing on the Internet except worrying blogs about sportsmen who'd sworn off the 'performance enhancers' because of the side effects, or teens conspiring to switch out the cheer squad's milk with it to 'see how they enjoy it'. And despite the itch that tingled under his ultra-sensitive skin, and the aching 'shrink wraped' feeling his muscles got, he wolfed down the precious liquid as soon as they were gone, eager for the sustenance. He finished the carton, balling it up and tossing it in the trash with a 'score', indifferent to the splash, just as the janitor's son, who helped his dad clean sometimes, pushed the door open, mop and bucket in hand.
Cam had always looked out for the poor father and son team when he first started working there, and felt uncomfortable seeing the tall lanky kid, so well spoken and thoughtful, in such a demeaning job, treated like trash by all the others. "Oh Fred, I'm sorry" he mumbled as the young janitor walked in. "I didn't realise you were cleaning at lunch now, do you want me to clear out of my office for a while?" he asked, convincing himself that Fred couldn't possibly know what the slugs of goop were, or the unmistakable smell. "No, sir" Fred said, uncomfortably. "Mister Miner said he'd like you to clean now, told me to bring these up for you special." Cam looked down at the mop and bucket, rolling up his sleeves with a grin, and shrugging like it was just some kind of hi jinx game. "Well I guess a man's got to clean his own office sometimes." he commented lightly, reaching out his bare forearms to grasp the handle. Fred held back the mop and bucket. "No sir. Not like that. He said you ... uh ... you gotta wear the appropriate clothes first."
Cam looked at Fred dumbfounded. What did he mean, he thought, but his questions were soon answered when Fred closed the door and leant the mop against the wall, looking away as he pulled down the shoulder strap of his dungarees. Cam's mouth went dry. "Fuck, seriously?" Fred nodded, still looking away, now dropping his other shoulder strap to reveal a filthy white tee stretched over his dark skin. "You better get undressed too Mister Cross" Fred said "he said we gotta swap clothes." "Everything?" Cam asked. Fred shook his head a little, "Uh, no, sir. Mister Miner said ... well, since I'm not wearing boxers or anything ... uh, you can keep your underwear sir...". Cam stripped, watching the lithe young man strip too. His body ripped like a jaguar, tense and muscular. When he dropped the dungarees, Cam got a shock - Fred was hung, his fat dork pulsing against his thigh, the head wet. "Sorry sir" Fred said "I um, leak..." Cam didn't know what to say, silently handing over his own cumsoaked clothes. Fred stared at the clothes, and his packed mesh jock, dungarees extended in his other hand. Taking Cam's cumsoaked rags, he quickly put them down on the desk. "Uh, I might um just stay like this til you're done, sir, if that's okay. Cam nodded, humiliated, slipping the tee and dungarees on, still barefoot, and taking the mop and bucket from Fred. "I'll be done in a minute" Cam said, plunging the mop in the steaming water. Fred folded his hands over his tackle, vainly trying to cover the elongated prong. "Um, no sir" he responded quietly "Mister Miner said you must start in the bathrooms. He said for you to clean the whole floor."
It was backbreaking work, and he was covered in splashes and sweat when he got to the far end where his office was. It had taken him over an hour, and one or two of the staff had come back, giving him sly looks. Most of the secretaries had guessed he was being punked by now, but still, the guys had kept his demeaning fall to themselves, just on the executive floor. Once the larger company knew, he would be truly fucked. But for now his problems were local. His dick kept scraping against the rough fabric, Fred's dickslime mixing with his own inside the crotch. It was as if he was rubbing against Fred - his pecs against Fred's salty skin, his cock against Fred's cock. But when he got close to his office, the muffled groans told him maybe that wasn't the only thing slapping against Fred's cock for now. He pushed open the door, shocked at what he saw. Fred was crouched on his chair, one bare foot on each armrest, squatting with his muscular arse facing the door. His arsepucker was slick with sweat, presumably from his thick finger furiously fucking the arsering up to the second knuckle, while his panting and jerking hips meant his other hand was fucking his fist in time. There was a clear string of precum streaming down between his squatted legs, dousing his leather seat in Fred's ball funk. He stood agape until Logan, standing just out of sight near the door said "Come in", almost making Fred fall of the chair in mid thrust. "Fred here was just entertaining me while I waited for you to get back. Okay Fred, that's enough, you can get dressed in your real clothes now. " Leaving his office uncleaned, Cam got the message, shucking out of the dungarees and tee, so Fred could slide the filthy rags over his sweaty mid-fuck body, his thobbing cock jutting out the denim. The two couldn't look at each other, and he hastily took the mop and bucket and ran.
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