"He obviously had moved to behind me, because I felt hands pulling my butt cheeks apart—in fact I found hands everywhere on my thighs and belly and nipples, in addition to the two that were stroking my cock—and I bowed my legs outward as I felt the moist end of the cigar working its way into my ass.
"The heel of a hand came up under my chin, the fingers covering my lower jaw and the thumb pushing its way into my mouth, obviously wanting me to give suck, which I did. Meanwhile, the two hands were still stroking my cock, the fingers of both of my hands were being taken into mouths and sucked, and that cigar was being rotated in my ass, being screwed in deeper and deeper and rotated around.
"I was panting heavily at the attention, the feeling of being shrouded in elegant black satin and silks and white starched shirts, flashing studs, and heavy cigar smoke. Aroused by the contrast of my being completely naked and vulnerable and being stroked and invaded everywhere by fully and elegantly clothed men.
"The cigar twisted out of my ass, and the commanding figure came back around to close in front of me. He gave me that leering, possessive smile, and then he put the cigar back in his mouth and twisted it. His eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam and I felt a strong hand cupping my balls, coming in under the stroking hands of other tuxedos, and he squeezed hard. I threw my head up in a primeval scream of pain and surprise and release to the ceiling, jerking my mouth away from the thumb I was sucking, and shot a strong fountain of semen I know not where.
"The teeming mass of black silk and satin took my ejaculation as some sort of sign, because I was lifted and carried by a bevy of tuxedos over to the leather-topped mahogany desk. At first I was bent over that on my belly. Once again hands pulled my cheeks wide. Then fingers, slippery with lubrication, of different sizes, invaded me, pulling my well-used hole wide. The cigar again now, soggy with lubricant, entering between the fingers and twirling and screwing into me. I was panting and moaning now. The cigar twirled out, but the three fingers of different sizes remained, pulling me, stretching my hole wide. I arched my back, as a thicker, throbbing object, a cock, slid in between the fingers. The fingers pulled out as the cock plowed in, deeper, deeper, deeper. And then it started a furious rhythmic slapping back and forth into me as I counterthrusted my hips back to it until I heard a deep-throated cry and felt my insides being creamed. A second cock replaced the first and I was fucked vigorously and deeply from the rear by one cock while another tuxedoed figure on the other side of the desk pushed another cock into my mouth. At no time did I see manflesh during the whole ritual. Cocks were buried in my ass and mouth, but the tuxedos remained fully in place otherwise.
"I was fully naked, being fully possessed by six elegant tuxedos, heavy, hard, virile cocks invading me from within the folds of the rich material, but never seen.
"When the first set of tuxedos had spent their seed in either end of me, I was turned on my back and fucked repeatedly in succession, each man obviously taking more than one turn at me, with two tuxedos holding my arms out and two more spread-eagling my legs.
"As something of a finale, I was lifted off the desk and a tuxedo came in under me and settled me on his black silk lap, his cock buried in my ass, and another tuxedo came in at me from the front and penetrated me with his member as well. The most athletic of the tuxedos was hunched on top of the desk, black silk pant legs against my naked chest and me deep-throating his cock, chaffing my chin and cheeks on the zipper of the only slightly parted fly.
"I found myself draped, naked and covered with repeated semen of six men over the top of the desk, moaning my elegant defilement, trying to concentrate on the fee I had earned for the evening. When I was able, I pulled myself up to a sitting position. The six chairs once more were occupied by six sedately and richly clad gentlemen sipping their brandy and puffing their cigars and looking very satiated and pleased with themselves.
"The commanding voice then thanked me for my time and told me I was to leave. I dragged myself out into the hall, dressed with my aching muscles feeling every move, and received a generous tip from the butler before I was shown to the door."
When Zane had finished this story, the room was silent for the longest moment except for the heavy panting coming from a still-mesmerized Dave. Zane could feel the young man trembling as well without the folds of his arms.
"Yes, I think that might have been my strangest assignment," Zane said finally, marking closure to his tale.
"Wow." That seemed to be all Dave could say at the moment. And Zane didn't want to break the moment. While he had been telling Dave this story, Dave had been so mesmerized that he didn't seem to realize that Zane had gotten his pants unzipped, had the young man's very nice cock out, and was slowly stroking him.
"So, what do you think?" Zane finally said, needing to either progress or be forced to retreat.
A few more moments of silence except for Dave's soft moaning and sighing and the rustle of the cheap cotton material of his pants in its rhythmic countermovement to Zane's slow stroking motion.
"You wouldn't . . . You wouldn't happen to own a tuxedo?" Dave asked in a hoarse, struggled whisper.
"Why, yes. Yes I do. I think I can find a box of fine Cuban cigars too," Zane said just before Dave lifted his lips to Zane's and sank into a deep, passionate, moaning kiss.
