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  • Indecently prepositioned

    • On the worst day of his life, the distinguished businessman Bryce is approached by a much younger man named Randy. At first, the meeting seems promising. The younger man, in the prime of his career and appearance, looked like a sweet conquest to Bryce. Even though he wasn't particularly in the mood, Bryce figured that bedding another status-struck newbie wouldn't be so bad. As they talked, Bryce was already planning on how he was going to seduce Randy; thinking that the standard wine and dine strategy had never failed him before. But then, the conversation took a surprising turn, and Bryce found himself unpleasantly propositioned by an arrogant Randy. "Look, Bill, Bob, whatever the hell your name is. My offer is simple. $500 for you to lay face down, spread those cute ass cheeks, and let me poke you for an hour or so. I don't have to tell you what a good deal that is." Randy leaned back confidently. He unconsciously extended his hand, passing an imaginary check across the table towards Bryce. Randy's dick stiffened in his trousers, playing the vision he projected to Bryce in his head. Randy awaited the smoky rebuttal from Bryce. There was a slight pause before the heated delivery.

    "I don't get bought. My ass is not for sale. Especially not to a punk like you, who was being breastfed while I was already on my second career. Why don't you hit those shitty gay discos, and find a faggot boy to suck your dick. Better yet, why don't you hit the S&M bars and find a big daddy to fuck you in half."

    Bryce resented Randy's cockiness. He spoke in his most authoritative voice, hoping to bring the young man a couple of notches down. It was an intimidating tactic he had perfected in the boardroom. He saw Randy's body stiffen, as his eyes narrowed to a mean glare. Bryce knew that he had affected Randy's composure, and relished every moment of it. He figured Randy would run outside of the bar crying. Instead, Randy leaned forward, looking eye to eye with Bryce. "All right, save that self-righteous shit for somebody that gives a fuck. You're a business man, right? Well, you of all people should know that everybody's ass is for sale. You, Brad, are of no exception. If I wanted a cock suck, I would go to those suggested places. But I want some ass tonight, and I want it to be yours." This unexpected directness intimated Bryce. The man who had scared the shit out of investors, and had made lawyers piss themselves for twenty-five years, felt three inches tall to a twenty-six year old. Bryce wanted to hide his face in shame.

    "Lookwhy don't you just leave me alone? I haven't had the greatest day."

    "I know. I heard it through the grapevine that they're forcing you into early retirement, Bob. No, no, don't walk away. See, I'm actually on your side. You worked your ass off for those motherfucker bastards for twenty fucking years, and they repay you with nothing but a handshake from your replacement, a wooden plague with your fucking name engraved on it, and a silver watch that tells international time. I feel for you, man. They let a good thing slip out of their hands." Bryce studied his scotch glass. He hated how Randy summed up his lifelong career in forty seconds. The guy sure knew how to tango, thought Bryce. Randy knew that he hit a nerve. He took a gamble by mentioning the work situation, but he figured it would soften Bryce.

    "The watch is bronze, and it doesn't work worth shit. They did lose the best fucking director that they've ever had." Bryce was surprised at his sudden sharing of information. He listened to everybody else's vulnerabilities, never having shared his own. He never admired weakness.

    "Exactly! That's why I want you so much. I may be thirty years younger than you, but I know quality when I see it," Randy says, while placing his hand tenderly on Bryce's, "I'm not trying to bullshit you here. I really want to fuck you tonight, but if you're not into it, I'm sure as hell not going to force you."

    But Bryce felt erotically charged by possible vulnerability. How many times did he enjoy dominating others? Vulnerable looks--in the eyes of his employees, random people, and tricks as he fucked them missionary style. He envisioned himself lying face down as Randy described. His hard dick pressing against the white, crisp, hotel sheets as Randy pushes his rod inside. The sweet, prickly pain felt in his asshole, as it expands to pleasure another man.

    "You're right. You got taste by choosing me, and you're not going to force me into anything because you're not man enough to do it."

    Bryce knew that saying that would piss off Randy. If Randy enjoyed "topping" older men, he would take the statement personal. Bryce was correct.

    "Well, I guess I better find somebody else then. Good talking to you Bill. See you around."

    Bryce caught Randy's arm in midair.

    "It's Bryce, you fucking jerkoff. If were going to fuck tonight, you better at least get my name right."

    "So, you're accepting my offer?"

    "The way I see it, I've been fucked over by my own company. I stop for scotch, and I'm propositioned by a handsome guy more than half my age, offering $500 to fuck me over. Hey, at least when you're done screwing me, you won't act like my best fucking friend. Besides, I haven't been fucked in the ass since I was twenty. It wasn't a good experience, but then again, the guy didn't have your looks or your money."

    "Poor old Bill. Trust me, I'll show you a really good time. If you're real good, I might take you on as a full-time employee"

    "Very funny. Where's your room located, you sarcastic little asshole."


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