Boss's Older Boy Toy

I had just returned to the office from my workout I usually did on my Friday lunch hour, when I was called and told to report to Mr. Kohn's office up on the Penthouse floor.

My heart hammered in my chest, and I had a cold knot in my stomach. This couldn't be good news. It was Friday, the company had been laying off staff, and I was older. I hadn't even seen Mr. Kohn in over a year, had never had any business contact with him, and now his executive secretary Phyllis was on the phone telling me he wanted to see me ASAP. She also told me that my direct supervisor Joe had not been told Mr. Kohn wanted to see me, and she had pointedly suggested that I not say anything to him either.

I grabbed my suit jacket and headed to the men's room to make sure I looked as presentable as possible.

Looking in the mirror, I sighed, feeling the fear of having to look for another job already. Although I though I was in pretty good shape for being over 50, my hair was thinning, I was over weight despite my best efforts at the gym 4 days a week, and my summer tan had faded over the winter. I didn't rate my chances of finding another job very high. I ran a wet comb through my hair, buttoned my collar, straighten my tie, made sure my jacked collar was down, and that I didn't have any lint on my jacket.

As I waited for the elevator I tried to recall what I knew of Mr. Kohn. I had only seen him on a half a dozen occasions, and when I had seen him, it was always at a distance. The last time I'd seen him was at a garden party held last summer in the pool area of his estate, and then I'd though was that he was a good 10 years younger and in better shape than I was.

All the younger and thinner company employees had been playing in the pool, but I'd abstained from entering the water, opting instead for sitting in the shade, keeping my shirt on and chatting with the other older employees sitting under the pool side umbrellas while enjoying the erotic view of the various bikinis and Speedos. Mr. Kohn of course, being young, in shape and tanned, had joined in the fun in the pool.

A few weeks after the party I learned, Jack, one of the local production managers I knew pretty well, who had also been at the party, had been transferred to quality control and then sent to the plant in Mississippi. I'd heard rumors that he had been invited to stay the night after the party, but had refused. I had been curious, and had done a little snooping, starting with a few phone calls and I'd found out the rumor was true. I was surprised Jack had been invited because Jack was a couple years older and even heavier than I was, and had always struck me as straight. What I didn't know, or find out in all my snooping, was whether Jack was bisexual.

What Jack told me directly was that he thought Mr. Kohn was gay, but didn't have any proof to substantiate his opinion, because Mr. Kohn himself had not made the invitation or said even a word to Jack at the party. The invitation to "hang around and have a drink" had come from Mr. Kohn's butler, and because Jack had had a few drinks, he had not recognized the invitation it for what it was. Later after he'd been reassigned to Mississippi, he guessed his refusal was the reason, but he told me that even if he had know what it really was he would not have accepted.

When I walked into the Penthouse Executive Office, Phyllis was just putting the phone down, and she watched me walk all the way across the large office to her desk. I knew her fairly well. We had gone to the same high school, and started at the company together many years before. Even then she had had the good sense to attach her self to Mr. Kohn's office staff, and had eventually become his private secretary. Now she supervised his office staff and knew every thing that there was to know of any importance.

She gave me a friendly smile, "Hi Tom, go on in, he's waiting for you."

"Wanna give me a hint of what this is about?" I asked, hoping she would give me a hint of want to expect.

"If I knew I would," she said with a straight face, "But he didn't bother to tell me."

Despite her words, her expression said she knew what was up, but it wasn't trouble and she didn't need to warn me. I hoped my interpretation of her expression was correct. I needed this job. Without it I'd have to decide whether to pay my mortgage or car payment.

I approached his closed office door and knocked. I heard the click as the electronic lock released, pushed the door open and went in.

He was standing by a small round conference table set in the corner where the floor to ceiling windows met, without his jacket with his shirt sleeves rolled up. He was a little heavier than I remembered him, but judging from the muscular size of his arms he was still in good shape, and he still had the dark tan I'd envied the last time I'd seen him.

"Hello Tom. It's been awhile since I've seen you," he said moving toward me extending his hand.

I shook his hand and was surprised that he didn't try to crush my hand like so many of the other company brass did before meetings to impress me with how macho they were. His was just a light squeeze of my hand and a brief shake.

"I think the last time was at your pool party a couple of years ago." I said, and waited for him to direct the conversation.

"Well I didn't forget you," he said. "Have a seat," as he gestured to the chair nearest to the one he sat in.

I sat down, and noticed that he sat with his legs crossed at his knees, allowing his crossed foot to hang down almost to his other foot. It was evidence of his slender thighs, and I was jealous. I had never been able to do that since my thighs were so thick. I sat without crossing my legs, my feet flat on the floor, and my hands in my lap fidgeting with a fountain pen I always took to meetings to use as a substitute for worry beads and keep my hands occupied.

He got straight to the business, "I wanted to talk to you about a tough decision I have to make. First, I have some information about some of your activities that I think may compromise company security. Second, I have to cut some people out of your department and Joe has suggested that one of them be you. So I thought I'd talk to you and see if you could convince me you're not a security risk and that I should keep you."

When he mentioned "activities and possible security risk," a cold chill ran down my spine. I had several skeletons that I thought were well hidden in the closet, the least of which was that I was a very active bisexual. That Joe wanted to get rid of me was no surprise since he was a rabid homophobe and had always suspected I was a little different. I wondered if Joe had finally discovered my secret.

The chair I sat in directly faced the window and the setting sun, and left his face in shadow, so he had the advantage of me not being able to see his face, but he was able to see my every expression very clearly.

I had expected the lay off issue. I had not expected the "security risk" issue. I guessed the security issue was related to my sexual antics with my boy toy Marc. If he did know, how much did he know? But, the way he said "convince me I should keep you" really got my attention. It was no secret that the company was in a financial down turn and there had already been lay offs. Why had he had called me up to his office to talk about "why he should keep me" a subject that he should have been discussing with Joe, my direct supervisor, or the division VP.

My face must have registered something he interpreted to be confusion, because he said, "Take your time. I just want you to tell me what the company, or I in particular, would be missing if I were to let you go."

What would he be missing? I silently repeated to myself. I wondered again if he knew I was bisexual. To say I was in the closet was an understatement, but I had to assume he knew, since his statement sounded a lot like he did. But if so why didn't he just say so and get this over with? At the time, I'd thought Jack's opinion that Mr. Kohn was gay was a bit far fetched because Jack was so much was older and over weight than he was that it didn't seem logical that Mr. Kohn would be hitting on Jack. Well that, and the fact that I knew for certain Jack was straight.

But not long after Jack had made the suggestion, I'd been looking at photos of various company functions, including the pool party, and I had noticed how many of the people that Mr. Kohn as photographed with were men that were a little greyer and a shade heavier than I was, and that all of them looked a lot like Jack. I had wondered if the explanation was that Mr. Kohn was a chub chaser. But then I wasn't a chub, so why was I here?

He noticed my hesitation and said, "Would you join me for a drink? I think this situation is a little stressful for both of us." He uncrossed his legs to stand, and in the process his foot brushed the side of my leg nearest to him, he said "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to kick you," he said as he patted my shoulder as he moved over to the bar that was 20 feet away.

"That's ok, I'm not fragile." I said as I started to get up and follow him.

"Don't get up," he said, "We'll need the table for some things I want to show you."

I stayed seated but swiveled in the chair so I could see him without twisting my neck. His tone was neutral, but I wondered if what he wanted to show me was what I feared it was and definitely could cause concern about me being a "security risk."

"I'm having Irish whiskey. What can I get you?" He asked as he poured just a splash of the whisky into a tumbler.

"Irish is good for me too, but I'm somewhat of a lightweight when it comes to the hard stuff." I answered.

He ignored my "light weight" comment and poured two fingers into another tumbler, came back to the table and handed it to me. "To the enjoyment of life!" he said as he raised his glass to me. I raised mine to clink his, and then took a swig, thinking to myself it was odd to offer me a drink, and odd to make suck a toast while deciding if he was going to fire me. And I noticed he merely sipped his drink.

He set his glass on the table, opened a drawer and took out a large inch thick manila envelope and put it on the table between us. Then I knew he knew he was going to show me photos of just how much of a security risk he thought I was to the company.

He opened the envelope, removed an inch thick stack of 8 x 10 photos, and spread the first few on the table for me to see. "I thought I had better ask you about these," he said softly in a surprisingly gentle tone. "We had a security breach a few weeks ago, and our corporate security service took these during our investigation to determine where the leak was coming from. We solved the leak, but I still have to deal with these, because the Board got wind that one of our employees was having sex with other men at a local bath house, and they want a full report on how it might affect our security."

I looked at the photos. They were very good quality color photos of me – and an unidentified dark skinned male engaged in various sexual acts, but mostly they were of me on all fours getting my bottom fucked by a very black cock. The photographer had obviously enjoyed taking them, but he seemed to particularly like close ups of my plumb white bottom spread wide showing my large slot ready to accept a large very hard, very black cock, or of my just fucked slot still slightly open leaking cum all over my balls.

I drained my glass, and with slightly unsteady hands, quickly looked through all the photos on the table. All clearly identified me presenting my bottom to Marc for anal sex; They either depicted me just before his hard cock actually penetrated my slot, actually showed his hard cock screwing me, Marc shooting his white cum all over my bottom, or me leaking Marc's cum.

It was clearly me. The only saving grace was that none of the photos showed Marc's face. Only I knew who it was that screwing me in the photos. I was just as sure Mr. Kohn knew who it was, but had instructed the investigator not to capture my partner's face in the photos.

At some point while I was looking though the photos, without my noticing, Mr. Kohn had gotten up, taken my glass and refilled it. I noticed it when he sat down and put the tumbler with three fingers of Irish whisky in front of me.

I was too shocked to think. There was nothing I could say anyway, so I didn't say anything. I just grabbed the drink swallowed a good belt and looked at him, waiting for the axe to fall on my job - and life - as I had known it.

But he smiled and said, "I was hoping you could give me a reason to keep you, or tell me what would you be willing to do" - he hesitated a moment – "That would give me a reason to keep you. If you can, I'm sure I can dream up something to tell the board that will convince them you're not a security risk."

The thought suddenly occurred to me that he was telling me indirectly he wanted to fuck me, but couldn't say it directly, or even hint at it, for the obvious fear of a sexual harassment law suit. So he was playing word games till he was sure I knew what he meant and he was sure I'd give him what he wanted, without anything explicit being said.

Then I remembered the photos I'd seen of him with older men, and decided I was right. He did like slightly over weight older men with big butts, and he was interested in fucking me.

I decided to go for it all, "I'd be willing to do just about anything for you that could name Mr. Kohn," I said looking him directly in the eyes, then down at the photos on the table. "I'm willing to work late for you, work week ends for you, and do almost any kind of special or private project you might want." I said, again looking him directly in the eyes as I emphasized each repeated "for you" phrase and then down at the photos again.

"Well," he said, returning my direct look, then pointedly glancing down at my lap, where my hands fiddled with my pen, and my cock twitched with anticipation, "Your statement that you'd do almost anything, leaves me very curious. Is there anything in particular that you won't do?

I had guessed right! He was hitting on me and if I played his game right I'd hang on to my job, my condo and my retirement. If I didn't, I'd at least have a shot at a lawsuit for sexual harassment. Well, maybe not, because the sexual advances had to be unwanted to be the basis for a lawsuit, and I liked playing this game with Mr. Kohn very much.

"I won't do anything that involves pain or injury to anyone," I responded with a negative pregnant, hoping he would realize I understood his interest and that he should press the issue till he got an explicit answer to the question he wanted me to answer, but didn't want to ask directly.

He responded indirectly but in a way that told me he appreciated that I understood the word game we were playing. He picked up his drink and asked, "What shall we drink to now that the tough part is over?"

"To whatever I can do to make you happy," I said, enjoying the thrill of having essentially just told him I'd be his slut and that I'd like him to fuck me, meaning it, and feeling my cock twitch with excitement.

"Oh, I like that!" he said, "To happiness," he added and reached over and clinked glasses with me, and took an actual swallow, as he watched me take a hefty gulp, then flush as the whiskey burned its way down my throat. "But you don't know what makes me happy, do you?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sure I'm gonna find out," I said looking him directly in the eye, and then letting my gaze travel down to his crotch where his pants were now showing a distinct bulge. I'd been right, but he still didn't respond directly.

He just continued our game without any seeming hurry, "Did you have any plans for tonight?"

"No." I answered honestly. Marc was out of town, Charlotte, my long time girl friend who knew all about me and my predilections, had gone to visit her parents, and I didn't like going to the bath house alone. I wondered if he knew about Charlotte and what our favorite game was.

"Well, I bet we can arrange something to do ..." He said letting the sentence trail off and hang a minute, and when I didn't immediately respond added, "Starting with another drink, then we'll see what you want to do later."

"Another drink like this one and I'll be face down on the floor." I said honestly as I drained the last of the drink he had given me. I hadn't meant it to sound suggestive, but I guess the booze had affected me more than I thought, because it sounded obscenely suggestive given the photos of me on the table - that he kept looking at - and he chose to take it that way.

He nodded. "Mmmm, I would like seeing you face down ... in person ..." he said as he drained his own drink then moved over to me and reached for my now empty tumbler. I didn't answer and he continued on past me over to the bar and poured us both new drinks and I followed him.

Thankfully, this time both drinks were just a single shot of the whisky. He handed me mine, and asked, "Have you ever seen the view from up here"?

"Not from up here, but I've seen it from Joe's office." I answered, and instantly regretted saying it. I hadn't meant to suggest I'd had anything going with Joe, and I hoped he didn't take it that way, because Joe was the most hostile nasty person I knew and I most certainly was not involved with him in any way.

He didn't. "Then let me show you the view," he said and moved toward me because now the windows were now directly behind me. When he reached me he put his hand on my arm and gently turned me toward the windows, and said, "I've seen the view from Joe's office many times, and it just doesn't compare with the view from up here."

As I walked toward the windows, his hand moved from my arm to the middle of my back, then down to the middle of my bottom as he guided me toward the windows with the view to the South, and an away from the setting sun.

On the way toward the window, he picked up a remote control from a table top, pushed a button that caused one of the window panels to open, and we went out onto a wide balcony that seemed to encircle the penthouse. It was slightly breezy, on the balcony, but not windy.

He stopped at the railing opposite the door, and I looked down – and it was a long way down – to the street. The cars looked like toys and the adults like very small children. Then I looked up at the horizon that must have been several dozen miles away, and marveled at how clear the air was and how many trees there were despite being in the middle of a city. I followed the river all the way down to where I though my condo complex was located, but couldn't it because of several other buildings blocked the view.

He let me look at the view for a couple of minutes then moved over close beside me and leaned his back on the railing.

I didn't move, I didn't say anything. I just looked at the view and waited till he decided what he wanted to do next.

"So what do you think? He asked, with a nod toward the distant horizon, turning toward me.

When he spoke, I turned toward him, to let him know I was interested in whatever he said, and as an invitation for his touch.

I answered without thinking. "It's a view to enjoy in a hot tub with a friend."

He smiled. "I was hoping you'd say something like that," he said, as his hand moved over and rested on the slight curve of my belly. "I just happen to have a hot tub, and if you're willing to have another drink with me we can get to know each other a little better in the tub."

"That sounds good to me." I said, while thinking to my self that if I had any more to drink I'd probably pass out and drown in the tub. But I'd take the drink and then see if what he had in mind matched my fantasy of me on all fours presenting him with my bottom spread wide for him to fuck my large slot doggie style with that rod that was tenting the front of his pants.