Big Ben(d) Ch 04

Big Ben(d) Ch 04

Sam takes some personal steps in New York

All characters described in this story are over 18. The scenarios are fictional, but are quite representational of corporate finance--at least before COVID. © 2025, Brunosden, All rights reserved.

Sam Crocket has been assigned to stand-in for the EVP of Elon Oil at preliminary, but important, finance negotiations in New York. After bunking together at a corporate retreat, he and Brock (Adamson), another junior employee in another department, have had almost two weeks of non-stop sex. Brock is beginning feel a little proprietary. Sam feels something too, but he realizes that Brock was his first male sex partner, and he is very anxious to make good on his first real professional job. Actually, Sam really has no choice. His boss has spoken. He is on his way to New York. And Sam is pretty sure that Roger has set him up--but he assumes that he is being set up as a sex partner, maybe a sub of Roger, his boss. He's left Brock in El Paso after yet another night of hot, young sex. The fact that the hard airline seat was a constant and pleasant reminder of the last evening didn't help either. Brock had really pounded, and Sam had really taken it.

In Sam's voice...

I arrived in New York, checked in and headed for the Goldman conference room--where the first round of document review was beginning. I introduced myself to our lawyers--a partner and two associates, who were matched with a similar number from Goldman's lawyers on the other side of the table and another group representing Morgan who were theoretically just observers at this stage. I knew that we would ultimately be paying for all of them, but even at extraordinary rates, aggregating thousands of dollars per hour, it would be a small part of the total acquisition package. Banks would take a cut; Goldman would take a bigger cut. Besides me, Goldman had two young analyst-bankers, and Bob Brandt (a Goldman Managing Partner) popped in from time to time. Morgan had three lawyers from yet another firm, one senior, two junior and Morgan bankers. More than a dozen people working on boilerplate--what a waste!

I think the RobertsAllen partner (our guy) was a little put out that Elon had sent such a junior guy (me) to the meeting. He had been expecting Roger Bannister. But, there wasn't much he could do. I was the client.

This was not a contentious meeting. All the attorneys knew each other and had been through this all before. The documents were mostly boiler-plate, developed by lenders and borrowers over dozens of years. Matt and Roger had provided me with outlines in El Paso. There were no surprises. Later we would get to the negotiable pressure points--where Goldman's hunger for the fees on this deal and Morgan's desire to lead a large lending syndicate would be matched against our corresponding hunger to acquire Murray Oil. We spent hours, well into the dinner hour, with sandwiches brought in, reviewing the general structure, the reps and warranties, the financial terms etc. By nine, we had a skeleton of a deal, an agreed "second" draft, with maybe a dozen open issues--including all of the most important--the interest rate, the success fees and the pay-back requirements.

I returned to the hotel and called Roger (it was seven in El Paso). He picked up immediately. I outlined the day. "Pretty much as I expected. Tomorrow will be more of the same. But, during the day make a list of the open points--and if Goldman tips its hand, keep note of that too. Morgan is really predictable--and probably almost immovable. Their participation is based on past deals and Fed rates. Focus on Goldman. We'll talk tomorrow. Good work, Sam. By the way, how about Brandt?"

"He came by several times--and invited me to dinner tonight, but I begged off since we were finishing so late. He's insisted that he won't take a 'no' tomorrow."

"Again, as I expected. Well, keep him happy. I need him."

Then I had a Facetime chat (and actually quite a bit more) with Brock. We both came quickly as we jerked together to a rock piece he had on in the background and the oral encouragement of a partner. Each of us had a front row seat to the other's fountain of release from towering phalluses. Ah, the wonders of modern cellular technology! Toward the end of the call, he asked whether I had opened the package. I propped the phone and went to get it, and opened it as he looked on. At first, I didn't recognize it. Obviously a sex toy from the penis shape, but too small to be really useful. Then it hit me. It was a fucking cage--with a silicon-covered metal ring to which a cage could be snapped on--which would lock it automatically. I looked up at his face on the little screen. He was smiling and dangling a key--apparently the only key to the device.

"You've got to be kidding. Not a chance, bro. Not a chance."

Brock went silent and blushed deeply. He realized, I think, that he'd gone too far. "I don't mean that you have to put it on now. But, I wanted to give you an out if you get cornered by Roger--or the Goldman guy. I know how passive you are in these situations and how much you want to please that guy."

"Passive, huh? Have you forgotten already what I've done to your ass, over and over? Once you awakened the beast, he's been giving as much as he's been taking. Oh, I do think you expected me to install this thing while you watched. As I said, not a chance. And it won't work anyway. If they want me to blow them or to fuck me--the mostly likely demands, the fact that I'm caged would make no fucking difference. They'll just do it. In fact, the cage might even turn them on. In addition to fucking me, they'd be punishing my dick and cuckholding someone--you. I guess you really don't understand the alpha personality after all. Fucking somebody's else's property is a goal unto itself, especially if the somebody else thinks he's protected his claim."

"I meant it as a joke."

"I hope you're laughing. I'm not." Then I made a big deal out of examining it, exclaiming that he was insulting my size, and pitching it into the metal waste bucket across the room--for a three pointer. It clanged loudly when it hit the metal can.

"Sorry. Just forget it."

"I already have. We are not there yet, Brock. We haven't even talked about it. I like you and what we do together. But, we are not yet a thing. I'm going to forget this even happened, and remember the last few minutes we've enjoyed. Now, I'm tired. Talk to you tomorrow. Luv-ya-babe." Then I hung up.

It took me quite a while to sleep that night. Where exactly was I with Brock--and more importantly, where did I want to be? He was my first and only. He was a hunk. I loved his ass. And his massive dick. A terrific lover. He's fun and insatiable. He's a little bit of a dom, but I'm not sure that isn't what I really need. And a good guy. But, then I thought it again--he's my first. Shouldn't I have a little more adventure and experience before I settle down? Particularly if the experience comes with advancement in the corporate finance world? Finally, I lubed my dick and jerked off again and fell asleep.

Because it was almost all new to me, the next two days weren't all bad. I was soaking up the routines, the arguments and counter-proposals like a sponge. It was like a graduate "internship" in finance. And by Thursday afternoon, we had an agreement with about a half dozen open points. I had explained all to Roger, who said he was flying in late Thursday. He wanted me to meet at the suite on Friday morning.

Meanwhile I was dodging Brandt's invitations. At one point he even suggested not too subtly that it would definitely be in my interest to have a friend at Goldman--"in case Elon becomes too small for your ego, your talents and your career." Fuck, I thought, he's trying to bribe me! But, when we finished early on Thursday, I really had no choice. "No lawyers. Just principals. Jerry and Pete will join us. If Roger were here..." We were all going out for drinks--and Brandt had made it clear that he wanted to see me afterwards about a private matter. I could guess just whose privates he was talking about. He wasn't bad looking. Just old--maybe even 45! Well-dressed, expensively-groomed, well-spoken and well-connected. Definitely an alpha and an in-shape Daddy-dom with a touch of grey. Wealthy--and wearing a wide gold wedding ring. Probably had two or three kids and a trophy wife back in Connecticut. And an insatiable libido.

We had the drinks, several each--four of us at an exclusive private club way downtown, a few blocks from the Goldman offices. And, as though pre-arranged, after an hour of semi-business chitchat and several rounds of hetero jokes about sex, his two guys left. Almost immediately, after ordering one more round, I felt his knee, under the table, rubbing my inner thigh. I didn't pull away. He asked a lot of personal questions--mostly about my love life--and blew off my non-answers and reciprocal questions. His hand landed on my forearm--and stayed there, massaging my wrist while he knee pressed into my crotch. It was not going to be a fair fight. He made sure of that.

Finally, after twenty more minutes of sparring, he paused and stared into my eyes. "You're gay, aren't you? Roger's guys always are--or can be, if the payoff is big enough. And they are all cut out of the same mold--medium tall, sandy-haired, boyishly handsome. I bet you work-out regularly, that you ride horses, and that you're vers or a sub. With a body like yours, I'm guessing you've had a few friends. Am I right? Well, it doesn't matter. Roger said you are a good boy, that you are clean, and do what you are told. I've got a room upstairs. Let's go. I don't have all night."

There it was. I was trapped. Roger--and Elon--needed Goldman. Goldman would do what Brandt wanted. Roger had either deliberately or casually set me up. I had no choice. I smiled back. This was part of my job. I guess we're all whores. It's been said before--it's only a matter of price and timing. "I thought you'd never ask, Bobby."

I rose from the table and he followed closely. The elevator was empty. He pulled me in for a kiss. Grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled me into him. Then he spun me around and felt my semi while he ground into my ass. "Ah! Roger never fails. You're a big one, aren't you?"

Once into the room, he threw his coat on a chair and started to remove his tie. He turned. All of his polite manners disappeared. He was now in charge. Totally in charge. "Naked, boy. Now. I want to see what I've bought. Without the packaging." He also stripped quickly, leaving on his boxers, and grabbed a terry robe from the door hook. Then he sat in the big leather chair and watched as I stripped. I decided to draw it out and give him the show I thought he wanted. Finally, I pulled off the boxer-briefs and grandiosely and slowly did a 360, puffing up my guns and then fluffing up Sammy. I spread my legs, crossed my arms under my pecs and bis, and faced him. "Fuck. You are beautiful, boy. You could be on the stage--or at least at Chip's. It's probably going to cost Goldman 50 basis points--but you're worth it. Damn, Roger knows how to pick them. Come here and give me a lap dance."

I moved toward him and straddled. I could feel his erection through the boxers. He was huge. But Sammy was no slouch in the size department. My chest touched Bobby's hairy man-boobs. They were hard. He must use a gym. And I began to squirm my ass around on his cotton covered dick. Sammie bounced off his abs, which had a thin layer of fat over the cuts. Then I bent forward and took each of his man-tits in, sucked and nibbled. They swelled and hardened. He moaned and colored. He was going to be easy--even if I only had experience with one other guy and only for a few weeks. He was getting off just eyeing my young flesh and erect cock.

Then he pushed me off his lap onto my knees and pulled his boxers off. He spread and moved to the edge of the chair. His cock was not bad--maybe eight and thick, the bulb was cut, dark and swollen like a ripe plum. He was shaved, but a day's musk rose from the heated shaft. I knew what was expected. I licked the glans and tipped my tongue into the slit. My hand went to the base of his shaft and I inhaled the bulb, slithering my tongue around the surface. I circled and sucked. I bobbed for a few minutes, running my tongue up and down the underside. He moaned quietly and stiffened a bit. Then he slid forward in the chair and spread his legs even more. He wanted ass play! Why not? My hand which was cupping his balls released them. I spit some saliva on the fingers and began to rub his taint and circle his rim. Then, I penetrated--not just to the first knuckle, deep enough to find the nut. Bobby groaned in appreciation. "Good boy. Very good boy. You've done this before. Roger's boys never disappoint. Tell me I'm your Daddy. And keep doing what you're doing." Needless to say, with five inches of dick in my mouth, I wasn't "telling" him anything. So I looked up and locked my eyes in his. And kept doing what I was doing.

His hands moved to hold me in place as he began to fuck my mouth. I knew how to end this quickly. I started to poke the nut, repeatedly, followed by a stroke and a massage. His face darkened, and a minute later, he croaked, "I'm cummin' boy. Take it all, like a good little bitch." His ass, not exactly muscled, but not that fat, actually levitated off the chair cushion. So I pushed a second finger in as far as I could and scraped the nut. And he started to shoot. First in my throat. A second on my tongue. And the third on my cheeks as he withdrew. For an old guy, he was still packing quite a load. He fell back onto the chair, eyes closed, holding my mouth close to his shrinking cock.

"Lick it clean, boy. I bet you love the taste."

A few minutes later, he got up, completely naked this time and moved to the portable bar where he poured us each another drink. He was still reasonably hard and glistening with his cum and my saliva. I just sipped mine, but he gulped his. Then, he amazed me. For his age, he was in pretty good shape--and his refractory time was very short. He was hard again. He whispered, "Time for Act II, boy. I want you to fuck me." He moved to the bed and assumed the position, belly down, propped on two large pillows. Fuckin' surprise! He was a bottom-dom!

I approached, batted his legs apart and bent in to eat his hole. He was moaning and squirming like a little babe whose mommy was rubbing his tummy. Minutes later, I wrapped, lubed and entered. He was ready and took me easily. He was obviously not a virgin. So I started to pump. Long, hard and hot. He wanted it rough. And that is exactly what I had in mind. I slapped his ass a few times. Reached under and pinched his tits, hard. He hissed, but pushed his ass up into me.

It didn't take long. I felt he was ready. So I reached under and grabbed his balls with one hand and his shaft with the other. And squeezed. He shuddered. His whole body vibrated with tension. "Fuck, boy, you sure know how to do this." But, he was too far along to edge. He shot onto the sheets. I milked a few strokes--to make sure he was really empty this time. As I strained for depth and finished into the condom. Then I pushed him to the bed and used my legs and arms to immobilize him--so he was floating in his own cum. I held him for a few minutes. His head turned, looking for a kiss, I assumed. But, I backed off. I wasn't touching his lips with mine. But, I did bend down and leave him a nice big hickey at the center of the nape of his neck. Let him explain that to the Mrs. And almost as soon as it was over, he pushed me off, and rolled over. "Now, clean me up boy. I don't have time to shower." And so my tongue got a second dose of his cum.

Finally he seemed satisfied and pushed me away. He went into the bath to wash and dress. A few minutes later he emerged. He looked exactly as he had when we had entered the room--maybe a little more flush and healthy looking, but sharply dressed and in control. He went to the door. "Stay as long as you want. Just close the door when you leave. It locks itself. Staff will clean up. See you tomorrow, Sam. I guess Roger will be with us, and we can finish this up by tomorrow night. Maybe we can arrange a threesome. You're not bad, boy. I think I'll keep you for awhile. I'm pretty sure we'll need a few more meetings before the Murray Oil deal closes. And, if Elon doesn't work out for you, give me a call." The door slammed.

I was alone. I walked over to the dresser, expecting to find some bills. But no, he had stiffed me. (Actually, I had stiffed him, so to speak.) I guess Roger or Elon would collect the fee. So I quickly dressed and walked the four blocks to the Marriott, sure that everyone I passed knew what I had just done. I was now officially an Elon Oil Whore. I don't think that was going to be added to my job description. I didn't call Brock that night, but txted him that I was still in conference. Then, I soaped and showered--for at least a half hour.

I rose early the next morning, worked out, packed and took a taxi to the Mandarin, arriving at nine. The desk gave me the key to the adjoining bedroom in the suite and I went up. I entered the room--and the door to the parlor was already open. Roger was having breakfast. It was a total shock and study in contrast. The rolling table at which he sat was covered in a white linen cloth with white china and silver, all very formal, but he was bare-chested and in his tight shorts. Other than at the gym, this was the first time that he wasn't totally and impeccably dressed in my presence. He either knew or guessed what Bobby and I had done. I was definitely a whore, his whore to use or pimp out as he wished.

He put down the Journal and looked up at me. "I assume you've had breakfast. We're due downtown at eleven. I just spoke to Brandt. He thinks we can finish up by one and celebrate with lunch while the lawyers finish up. I've set up a conference call with the Elon ExComm for four our time. They'll approve. Then, we'll sign. The bear hug letter will issue Sunday morning--when the business press will be caught flat-footed. We are going to party. I'm going to show you my New York this weekend Sam. You've done a great job and deserve a reward."

I wasn't really that dumb. He had talked with Brandt. And he knew. I wondered if Brandt was joining us.

He stood, walked over to me and pulled me hard into a hug. He had a semi. And his hands reached down and massaged my ass. I looked into his eyes. He was definitely the ice predator--hard, ferocious, confident. His eyes weren't asking. They were demanding. His lips touched mine and his tongue invaded, filling me. The other shoe had dropped, so to speak--even though he was barefoot. Automatically, my arms went around him, stroking the muscles in his naked back. Yeah. I wanted this. Roger was definitely a man among men. He was my future.

Roger took me to his room and slowly removed my clothes. He stood back and swept his eyes up and down my body. I had just worked out--and I was still pumped. He stood there motionless as I took in his mature stature. Slim, lightly muscled, tan lines suggesting tennis, dirty blonde hair with a touch of grey over his ears, piercing blue eyes. The real Sean Connery look. Commanding, take charge presence. Then he slipped out of the tight boxers. He was hard. Long and hard. The hood had already retracted, exposing a dark moist bulb. I started to kneel before him, but he stopped me. "Not this time, boy. He wants your ass, not your mouth." He motioned me to the bed. I assumed the position, but he pushed me over. "The first time I take a new boy, I want to see his eyes. I can tell whether you're into me or doing it as part of the job. Let's see how good of an actor you are."

He rolled on a condom and threw the tube of lube on the bed where he could easily reach it. I pulled up my legs into a high vee and rolled my ass. He was on me in a second, forcing me into a tight jack-knife. Fingers started to open me. And he murmured the trite, "Still nice and tight. I like that."