Date: Thu, 5 Jul 2012 12:00:40 +0000
From: Bill Drake <billdrake@hotmail.com>
Subject: White Collar Tales 18: Myrtle Beach Afternoon

White Collar Tales
Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)


WARNING: The following is for adults only. It contains depiction of sexual
acts between men. If this offends you or is inappropriate for you to read,
go no further.


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White Collar Tales #18
Myrtle Beach Afternoon

Pumped from a full day on the links and drunk from the sun and the alcohol,
the men poured into the hotel suite in twos and threes. Some immediately
stripped down to nothing - bareassed businessjock satyrs looking to let off
steam. Others kept their golf attire, polo shirts, and visors on as their
bodies clashed and their hands clenched mounds of muscled stud fleshed,
clothed or unclothed.

Mark Conklin, 33, financial analyst, was pinned back against the wall as
two younger traders went to work on his tool. The men hadn't even been
introduced, but Mark had seen them around all week and wanted them bad. The
young studs weren't related but of were similar height and build and they
even had the same goofy Adam Sandler smile on their dimpled faces, so that
even their coworkers often thought they were brothers. Easygoing,
stoner-jock types, Deadhead frat boys gone respectable, except on trips
like this when their party animal ways came back. Right now they were going
to town on eight solid inches of analyst cock, erect and pulsing like it
hadn't shot a was in weeks, instead of the eight hours since its morning
load.

The sight of the two servile cocksuckers got to be too much for Conklin,
who put a hand on both men's heads to hold them firm against his crotch as
he looked up. Thing was, the rest of the action in the room was equally
cum-churning. His best bud Ken Logan was writhing and grunting in the bed
in front of him, Ken's nude body- nothing to block the vision of his
brown-furred muscular build except for a thick silver watch and a pair of
dress socks - was tossed back as a pug-faced, bull-necked twentysomething
jackhammered away between the man's spread legs. Each inward thrust made
Logan's baritone voice groan in sexual excitement. Mark rarely saw Ken
bottom and wondered why he was going apeshit over a guy who wasn't all
that, til he saw a massive beercan dick hammering away at Ken's stretched
sphincter. That piece was flattening the man's buttnut something
fierce. Ken was getting every ounce of tension and resistance fucked out of
him.

Behind Ken, Mark's boss Jack lay back fully clothed, only some newbie
trader was kneeling at his open crotch, inhaling every bit of cock he
could. His golf partner stood by and looked on, like a lonely puppy til Ken
tipped back his visor and licked his lips. "Come on buddy, get on up here."
The other man flashed a shit-eating grin and unzipped his khakis, letting
them fall mid thigh as he stepped up on the bed, suede buck shoes and all,
and crouched his butt down onto Jack Olinger, First Vice President and
master asseater. His head looked up skyward, and his hands gripped the
round hard pectorals beneath him Ð Jack had a nice, compact chest that
showed even through the knit shirt. While his seat settled in on his
partner's face for some deep-tissue analingus, he encouraged his rimmer
with fucktalk, "Lick it, buddy, yeah.. just like that. Eat my horny
hole. Oh, that's incredible, guy."

In the far corner, men were pulling a fuck train on a certain cocky trader
from New Jersey.

Funny, Mark thought, this used to be just me and my college buddies. The
ones from that not-too-selective New England business school. The ones with
more connections and more looks than brains. It was a way of keeping in
touch as the guys had all moved away, gotten their jobs, gotten married.

Somehow the week had grown into an unofficial men's-only alumni trip. Guys
Mark had never known. Guys he'd never even gone to school with. It was all
good, though, the men just rented out the entire wing of the complex, and
the resort left them alone to party and let off steam.



Aaron Barber, tall dark and handsome account manager at IBM, almost
collided into Gary Evans' sturdy frame as he rounded the motel
corridor. "Hey, Big Stuff," he teased, "watch where you're going." His eyes
couldn't resist sweeping down Gary's mountainous torso to fix on the
massive genitals bunched up in the man's chinos. He'd acquainted himself
with the financial news reporter's extra-large appendage the first day of
vacation and had given Evans his nickname then. The two had hooked up a
couple times since.

"Hiya, stud," Gary beamed. Tauntingly, his large fingers reached up and
flicked Aaron's nipple through the knit material. The nip went erect,
surrounded by a swirl of aureole and goosebumps that poked up the thin
cotton.

"Man, Gary! Are you trying to make those puppies hard? Cause it's working."

Yeah, Aaron thought, big fucking hairy chest. He latched his perfect smile
onto Gary's meaty paps and tongued them til the flesh filled out further in
his mouth.

"Fuck, I love your titties," he growled, as he sucked and gnawed at the
man's chest. "Take off your shirt," he ordered. The manager smiled and in a
flash stripped himself of his shirt. He loved having his nipples worked,
something his wife didn't get off on. "I don't like getting chest hair in
my mouth," she would complain.

Gary wasn't complaining, he was licking and munching with gusto. He got off
on how frickin' sensitive this smooth-voiced man's tits were.

That smooth voice sighed, "We gonna fuck around out here next to the
parking lot?"

Evans spit out the erect teat from his mouth. "Why the fuck not? No one
around to watch." And he dived back on and started sucking away.




Jeff McPherson arrived late. He'd dropped his stuff off at his room and
showered up, before slipping back into his striped Izod and golf slacks. He
felt the blonde stubble clinging to his handsome, weathered middle aged
face and wondered if he should leave it for another day. Nah, he thought,
and decided to shave. When he arrived at the master suite, his mouth
salivated and his heart pounded. The men were already in action, and the
sight was a glorious one to behold. Sheer, unadulterated masculinity,
mating flesh to flesh, releasing pent up frustration and desire.

At 45, Jeff was noticeably the oldest man on this trip, and felt
self-conscious looking at all the younger men, their bodies still firm and
toned, their stamina still prime. Despondently, he patted the belly that
swelled out beneath his meaty pecs. If his frame hadn't been so beefy, the
mass would have been unseemly. As it was the stomach protruded as a swell
of mass in front of his midsection. "You're losing it, Jeff ole boy," he
said to himself. "These guys can still party, and they don't spend their
whole vacation pouting about their shitty marriages." Things hadn't been
good between him and Ellen for some time. They'd put up with the constant
fighting and the loveless marriage for the kids. This vacation was his
chance to get away from it all, but looking around at the hot men ten,
fifteen, twenty years younger than him, he wondered if he'd made a mistake
in coming.

As he was deep in reflection, two brawny arms slipped around his waist. The
man behind him was taller and studbuilt as well. The forearms were big,
sinewed with muscle that must deliver a mean line drive, their skin mostly
hairless and freckled from the sun. The guy didn't waste time: one hand
slipped under the rim of his polo shirt, rubbing Jeff's furry stomach, the
other knotted knuckles squeezing and crunching Jeff's full crotch.

"Having fun?" a deep, slightly drunk voice cooed in his ear. The owner's
thick fingers slipping along the curve of Jeff's stomach and up to tweak
the man's nipples beneath his shirt.

Jeff's body shuddered at the take charge attitude and was stunned when he
turned around and saw a very attractive young man, definitely mid-twenties,
about an inch taller than him.

"I am now," Jeff laughed, put a little at ease by this guy's attention and
by his drunkenness. He looked at the man's sea-green eyes and watched
enraptured as the guy's face approached his, head tilting slight, mouth
opening.

Fuck! That was the kiss of the century. Or at least the decade. Yup, it had
been over ten years since Jeff felt a kiss like that. That sent goosebumps
to his toes and jolted his cock to full drooling erection.

"You're hot," the guy slurred. His hands now massaging Jeff's chest. "You
remind me of my boss."

Jeff's own hands were now tentatively exploring a body that could be in
Men's Health magazine. "Yeah?" Jeff asked, tentatively. Hopefully.

"I want to fuck my boss," the young man added. "I want to fuck that cocky
son of a bitch so bad." Despite his words, an amiable smile stayed on his
face. His eyes stared deep into Jeff's.

"Shit," McPherson replied, dumbstruck by it all.

"You gonna let me fuck you, big guy?"

Already, his hands were at the slacks' opening, unbuttoning them and
pulling out the flaps, then pushing them down.

Jeff's meaty cock jutted up, dewy wet, and the young man's hands latched
hungrily onto the fur-coated beefy mancheeks.

"Gonna be my boss today?"

Jeff nodded, speechless he was so nervous and horny. He leaned his head up
and the two men kissed again. Jeff moaned into the man's mouth as he felt
an insistent finger at his manhole. His cock leaked like crazy onto the
guy's T-shirt.

They made out like that for a while, as Jeff's tight pucker got prodded
with one finger, then two. Somehow, someone had squirted some slick fluid
on that spot, which made the man's fingers go deeper and fully enter that
ass. Another set of hands were on Jeff now, pulling up his polo shirt and
rubbing his bulky back muscle.

"Can I do him after you, Matt?" Another voice.

Jeff's admirer broke the kiss. "Yeah, Dan. Sure."

Dan turned out to be another hunk of perfection, only dark haired and brown
eyed. Probably nearing 30, he was tall and built like an ex-lacrosse
player. His mouth latched onto Jeff's and the two swapped tongues briefly.

Dan pulled back and stared at Jeff's face. "Fuck, he looks just like
Portis."

"Doesn't he?" Matt agreed. "Damn!" he muttered as he pulled the slacks all
the way off Jeff's legs. He ran his hands up toward the married man's
crotch, admiring the bulk. "Turn around and bend over," he ordered.

"What the fuck am I doing?," Jeff asked himself as he found his face flush
flat against the cheap formica hotel table, his ass now exposed and hiked
upward. "Married, two kids, and about to get majorly fucked."

Then, soft wet lapping sensations felt heavenly against his now exposed
pucker. Jeff's cock was already hard and now he felt it would explode as
Matt gave him a loving rimjob.

"How's that boss?" the young man teased between licks.

"Aw man, incredible," Jeff moaned. "Lick my hole. God, I want you to fuck
me." He couldn't believe he was talking like this, but it all felt
incredible. He wanted more.

"Ha ha, that can be arranged," Matt laughed but continued his asseating
session.

"Here," Dan said, stepping in front of Jeff and unzipping his khaki
shorts. "Think you can work on this?" he asked as a nice full dick emerged
from the folds of his pale blue boxers.

The man's cock was beautiful, Jeff decided. Long but not gigantic, it had
just the right amount of cylindricality and upward curve. It looked
powerful and felt powerful as Jeff latched his spit-filled open mouth onto
the tip. Fuck, this is what this trip is all about, he decided.

Til another pleasure distracted him from the cocksucking. Matt's prick
boring its way into his guts. His body first clenched at the invasion, but
soon melted its resistance. He was getting fucked. And loving it. He was a
pawn in these young bucks' personal fantasy, but he could care less. He had
two of the hottest men giving him what he wanted. Getting his day-to-day
worries pounded away and his buttnut overstimulated. Right now that
internal gland was making his own dick quiver and dance against the table
top. Seconds away from blowing.

"Fuck you, Portis," Matt growled, his body in a huff and his hips in a blur
as his dick pistoned in and out. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he cried and suddenly
Jeff had an assload of fresh accountant jism.



By the time Aaron and Gary joined the group, a little sweaty and sticky
with cum, the afternoon round of action was over and the men were sitting
around in various states of dress, pounding back cold cans of beer and
watching ESPN. The room smelled of sperm.

"Hiya fellas," Gary joked. "What did we miss?"

Ken Logan looked up at the large man. "Turns out Olinger loves to eat ass."

"Which one of you guys is Olinger?" Aaron asked.

Jack sat up in the bed. He was now stripped nude to the waist, his compact
build highlighted by nearly spherical bulging chest muscles just dusted
with blond hair. "That'd be me," he said, raising his beer in
acknowledgement.

"Are me and my buddy too late to get a sample?" Gary asked.

Olinger paused to think but shook his head and licked his lips. "Nah. Step
on up, guys."