Jeremy

Jeremy was still under the table, his soft crimson lips wrapped around my cock. It had been 20 minutes; the meeting was scheduled to last for a half an hour. He was good at this - the timing.

He had started slow, gently rubbing my stiffening rod with his hand through my suit pants and boxers. His touch was firm, but responsive, a mere fondling at first, roaming from my balls up the shaft, finding the head and toying with it. As I got hard, he moved his hand down the shaft, and back up again deliberately, slowly. He knew what I liked.

He knew the attention had to last a half an hour, and he wasn't in a rush. He backed off the shaft for a while and played with my balls, still through two layers of fabric. He repeated this a few times - just before he knew I would get impatient, and then he slowly, quietly, unzipped my pants. Making sure I didn't slip through the opening in my boxers, he wrapped his hand firmly around my cock, and pumped: up...down... then slower... up...and down, again. He made it hard to concentrate on the man in front of me.

Specialized insurance was his business. A Mr. Jackson from the Midwest. Very pleasant, very dull. He presented the types of requests he had gotten in the past: rage rooms, underwater homes, "shipments" of all sorts of contraband, but my request was new to him: experience insurance, for the global elite. Specifically sexual experiences. He had no idea Jeremy was under the table.

By the time Mr. Jackson finished his presentation and asked me what type of insurance I was looking for - somewhere between 10 and 15 minutes in - Jeremy had released me from my boxers and was flicking his tongue around the tip. He didn't keep this up for long because he knew it would be too much. He licked up... and down... just like he had before with his hand.

I explained my proposition to Mr. Jackson and he was hesitant. It was risky.

"But all insurance is about risk," I countered.

It would be expensive.

"My clients could pay."

He didn't want to risk the reputation of his company.

That was rich! From a guy who had insured the heroine trade no less. But he would need some persuading. We discussed different options.

Jeremy by now was practically swallowing my cock. More impressively he wasn't making a sound. The pleasure radiating from my groin was growing intense, but still Mr. Jackson had no idea. Soon I would find it hard to control my expressions.

25 minutes in. Mr. Jackson seemed to be coming around, and I was coming close to cumming myself. Jeremy had finally gotten carried away. I reached a hand down, and placed it in his dirty-blond mop, stroked his head, and he took the hint and slowed. Mr. Jackson caught the gesture, and looked curious, but I could tell he hadn't yet figured it out.

Fortunately the time in the conversation was right for an added incentive. I continued reaching down to my briefcase next to me, and pulled out a picture of an escort - one my associates had assured me Mr. Jackson would like. I placed it on the table and slid it across to him. He was amused... and looked at the picture approvingly.

Jeremy was teasing me...edging me. Speeding up, and slowing down. I wouldn't last long.

"I need to be sure of your...discretion," Mr. Jackson finally said.

Jeremy took this as a cue, and sped up again. I could tell this time he wouldn't slow down, but we weren't quite to the end of the negotiation yet.

Discretion, of course, I assured him. The elite would pay enormous sums to keep their sexual escapades secret, and my escorts were paid handsomely for their silence.

I was so close...

"But what I mean," Mr. Jackson continued, "Is that I need your escorts to be discreet in the act itself," in case any of your clients want their services provided...in public, if you will."

This caught me by surprise, but it didn't matter.

Jeremy had reached a glorious crescendo, sucking faster and faster, and just when Mr' Jackson said "public", had stopped sucking and furiously teased my slit with the tip of his tongue. It put me over the edge. I shot jet after jet of hot cum into his mouth, and I'm sure all over his face too.

I shuddered, subtly... but visibly. Mr. Jackson finally got it. He just stared knowingly.

I slumped back in my chair, "Come up here Jeremy."

Jeremy crawled out from under the table next to me, and stood up, cum running from his hair down to his chin, and licking his lips.

"How is that for discrete, Mr. Jackson?"

He continued to stare for a moment, and then closed his eyes and smiled. He let out a soft sigh.

Eyes still closed, he said, "We have a deal. Your escorts... have proved their discretion, but you need to work on yours... that shudder."

"Escorts?" I asked, "plural?"

He looked down and gave a single nod. The escort who's picture I had given him, crawled out, also dripping in cum, and winked at me. Jeremy smirked.

"I always do my research before meeting a potential client," Mr. Jackson said. "We'll have to work on security, but your escorts provide a valuable service, and are certainly discrete."

We reached across the table and shook hands.

"If you'll stay for a bit, Mr. Jackson," I said, "Our escorts have a lot more in them. These two can demonstrate the performance service we're working on."

Mr. Jackson smiled and nodded.

"Why don't you two clean up here, and then we'll move into the theater.

Jeremy and the other escort climbed onto the table, and began to make out, licking up every last drop of my and Mr. Jackson's loads.

"Mr. Jackson, just wait til you see the main attraction..."