Two Dinners and a Fuck

Honestly, I wasn’t crazy about attending a company dinner, but I was only at this branch office for a couple days, to do software upgrades, so I couldn’t very easily claim that I had other stuff going on after hours. And my department head, Dean, had told me this place had pretty good Middle Eastern food, so that was something.  And Dean wasn’t a bad guy; we’d gone out for drinks the night before and had a good time chatting.

We all filed in to the restaurant’s small back room. A lot of people had brought their partners, so there were 20 of us squeezed around a table that was really only meant to seat sixteen. I got seated on the bench next to Dean’s husband, who was seated next to him. 

“Hi,” I said, nodding to him. “I’m Victor.” I held out my hand.

“I’m Winston. Nice to meet you.” He shook my hand and looked me in the eye for a second and then suddenly lowered his gaze. He withdrew his hand awkwardly. 

As a dom, I’ve always had good instincts for spotting submissive guys, and that simple act of looking down pinged my subdar. Winston was a pretty good-looking guy. He had one of those beanpole bodies, but I could see under his sapphire polo shirt that he was quite fit. He had shoulder-length blond hair and a five o’clock shadow that was quite sexy. His face was very serious and very dreamy at the same time. He struck me as the kind of guy who played an acoustic guitar when he was feeling moody. I put him at a year or two past thirty, so probably six-seven years Dean’s junior. There was something open and vulnerable about Winston that triggered the predator in me. Submissive guys always bring that out in me. 

Carl from sales was sliding behind me. I immediately scootched over to give him a bit more room, pressing my hip against Winston’s. There’s something about invading a sub’s personal space that I just love. 

Winston’s body tensed up for a moment, but he didn’t try to make more room. He glanced at me and immediately looked away.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, feigning a lack of intention I very much had. “Do you need more room?”

Winston blushed slightly. “No, you’re good.”

As we settled in and waited for appetizers, I took the opportunity to chat with Winston a bit. He was an artist, a painter and sculptor to be precise, and he and Dean had been together for about six years, married for two. He was really involved in his community, environmental causes, and the like. It was clear that he was a sensitive soul, deeply concerned with fairness and making sure that people were happy. Everything about him was telling me he was a sub, and I think he sensed my dominance. Normally I keep it under wraps, but it’s just hard to hide my candle when I’m around guys like Winston. I want their attention. 

When the waitress brought the appetizers, she placed one tray to Winston’s left, out of my reach. So I handed him my plate. “Could you give me a couple items?” I phrased it as a question, but made it sound more like a command. He looked at me for a second and then took the plate and filled it. 

As he handed it back, I said, “Good job! You actually chose exactly what I would have chosen.” It was a lie. I would have taken another dolmades and a bit less of the hummus, but I wanted to see how he reacted to praise. 

He was clearly pleased. “Thank you, sir.” He seemed startled by that last word. 

I leaned in closer to him. “Don’t worry. I get that a lot.” When he met my eye, he quickly looked away again.

After that, I made a point of finding ways to invade his space. I reached past him to get another dolmades, pushing my chest against him. As I did so, I winked at him. As the dinner went on, I made a point of talking with Dean a lot, because it gave me a reason to lean into Winston’s space. I even put my arm around Winston’s shoulder as I did so. Was Dean noticing that I was basically hitting on his husband? If he was, he didn’t give any sign of it. 

By the end of the meal, I had gotten Winston completely flustered. He wasn’t looking at me, but wasn’t doing anything to pull away from me and stop me. As the meal broke up and we were all leaving the restaurant, I found a moment when Winston was alone by the coatrack, slipping into a denim coat. I slapped one hand on his shoulder and said, “If you ever want someone to meet that need that Dean isn’t meeting, let me know.”

He looked at me and started to protest.

“It’s ok. I see what you’re not getting.” I grabbed my leather jacket off the coatrack and slipped it on. I smiled a slightly predatory smile at him and walked out of the restaurant to my rental car. As I got in, I managed to sneak a look back without making it obvious. He was standing just outside the restaurant looking at me. 

A month later I was back in Akron. There had been a major server crash, because the company had kept putting off replacing them, and they’d ignored my advice to do so when I had done the upgrades. So I had been sent in to help recover the lost files. It was gonna take a shit-ton of work, so I was gonna be there at least this whole week. 

During one of my breaks, I bumped into Dean in the kitchen. Dean was a nice guy, but he’d clearly let himself go a little as he was moving into middle age. His belly hung over his belt a little, although he knew how to dress to pull attention away from that fact. His brown hair was thinning, so he had the smarts to keep it clippered short. Dean had a sort of quiet confidence about him, a confidence that had gotten him into the department head position, I was pretty sure. Something told me he had been in a fraternity in college. 

I updated him on my progress recovering the lost files and then we just started chatting as we waited for the new pot of coffee to brew.

“It was nice actually meeting Winston last time I was in town.”

“He’s everything I said he was, isn’t he?” Dean had a sort of proud confidence in the way he said it. He’d told me a lot about Winston when we’d had drinks a while back. 

“And then some. You were right, he’s very handsome, in thoughtful sort of way.”

“And he’s all mine. Do you want to come to dinner? When I mentioned you were coming back to him, he said we should have you over.” His smile was almost an outright dare. Something about that smile made me want to move on Dean so bad. 

I can’t ever resist a good challenge. “Absolutely!”

“Great! Be at my place at 7.” I’ll text you the address.  

Dean and Winston lived in one of those old factories that had been remodeled into condos, in a neighborhood that felt like it was just starting to become trendy. I showed up a few minutes before 7, carrying a bottle of wine. 

Winston answered the door. He smiled when he saw me, and then a blush spread across his pale cheeks. “Hi, Victor” he said, and then stepped back to allow me in.

I stepped in and handed him the bottle of wine I’d picked up. Without asking to take my jacket, Winston disappeared into the kitchen, which gave me a chance to look around. The room that I had stepped into had once been some sort of industrial space; it had exposed brick and girders, which I immediately began assessing for suspension bondage; the ceiling was a bit higher than was ideal for that. The room was furnished in a rather spare style, with a small cluster of furniture forming a living room space, another making up a dining space, and a third offering a place to watch tv.. There was a large painting of a naked man with wings plunging downward, done in long bold strokes that suggested rather than detailed the figure’s body. I liked it. 

Dean shouted from the kitchen that he was making dinner. “Take your time,” I replied. 

Winston returned from the kitchen. He was wearing a pair of white skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and thighs, and a black t-shirt that clung to his lean frame. His hair was knotted in a bun. He came over to stand near me. I could tell he was nervous. He seemed unsure of what to do with his hands. 

I nodded toward the painting. “Icarus or Lucifer?” 

“I tried not to decide. I like the ambiguity of it.”

“Either way it’s about pride being humbled.”

He looked at me and smiled a quiet smile. “I suppose it is.”

I met his eyes. “Is that what you want?”

The question startled him, which is what I wanted. I like to keep my target off-balance initially. It makes it easier to establish the power exchange. 

“What…what do you mean?” 

“I think you know what I mean.” He shook his head nervously, trying to deny what I could read in his eyes. I took a step into his personal space and he backed up. “I think you invited me here because you’re hungry for something you sense I can give you.” 

He took another step back but found himself bumping into the wall. I took another step forward and stood just a few inches away from him. 

“Look, I don’t think…”

I leaned in as if I were about to kiss him, but hovered just out of reach. “Ok,” I said quietly.”Just say ‘no’ and I’ll back off. I don’t go where I’m not wanted. But tonight is the only time I’m going to offer.” 

He was silent. 

“Yeah, I thought so. Now say ‘yes.’ “

He stayed silent. 

“Ok. If you’re not interested…” I pulled away and turned to look around the room.

“Yes.”

That was the reaction I was hoping for. I turned back and smiled. “Yes, Sir.”

“…Yessir.”

“No. ‘Yes, Sir.’ Say it right, boy.”

He swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

I patted him gently on the cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

I slid my hand around to the back of his neck and gripped it firmly. I pulled him in toward me. Winston was about two inches taller than I am, so I felt it was important to make him feel physically controlled right from the start. I kissed him full on the lips and pressed my tongue into his mouth. At first he was passive and hesitant, but he quickly warmed to my aggression, opening his mouth and giving me a pleasurable degree of tension in his lips. He squirmed a little, as if he was uncomfortable with what we were doing, but didn’t actually try to pull away.

When I finally released him, he stood staring at me, as if he wasn’t sure what had just happened. 

“…I’m married.” I scowled at him and he quickly realized his mistake. “Sir.”

“So? If that really mattered, you wouldn’t have asked Dean to invite me over for dinner.”

He opened and closed his mouth several times. “But Dean likes to get to know the people under him.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy. You and I both know that’s not the reason you wanted me to come over.” I looked into his eyes with what I hoped was a combination of strength and supportiveness. He studied my face for a long time and then turned away. “Ok. Let me know when you’re ready to be honest.” 

I turned and walked away, heading toward the kitchen. As I reached the kitchen doorway, I shot Winston a glance. He was staring at that picture of a falling angel.

Dean was cooking furiously at the stove, snapping a wok back and forth expertly. I watched the ingredients fly briefly up into the air and then fall back into the bowl. He poured a shot of sherry into the wok and quickly covered it before moving on to another pan on the stove. 

“You’ve got a pretty good technique,” I said with genuine appreciation. 

“Food is one of my passions. If you can’t tell.” He laughed and patted his belly. “It’s unfair. Winston eats whatever he wants and never gains an ounce. I just look at a potato chip and I add pounds.” He glanced at me. “That’s clearly not a problem for you.”

I’ve got a pretty solid body. Frankly, I enjoy being the computer geek who’s also a hard-core jock. “Are you kidding? Do you have how hard I have to work out after I have pizza? I try to stay below 10% body fat, so I have to take a pass on a lot of things. Takes a lot of will power. ” I glanced over at Winston, who was watching me now. “Fortunately, I have will power to spare.”

I slid my hand up under my shirt and scratched my chest, giving Winston a view of my six-pack. Winston just watched me with a hungry look on his face.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at me, but quickly returned his attention to the stove. “You’re certainly not typical of the IT people we see.”

“I did gymnastics for years in high school and college before I admitted that I wasn’t quite good enough to compete professionally. But I kept up with my workouts even after I decided to go into computers.” 

I shrugged off my jacket. “Winston, I’m not sure where I should put this.” I held it out to him and gave him a look that said I expected him to serve me. He quickly walked over and took the jacket from me. As he hung it up on a hook by the door, I noticed he took a moment to smell it. When he turned to look at me, I peeled up the t-shirt I was wearing and stuck it in my back pocket. I flexed and grinned at him. “What do you think?”

Dean replied, “Oh geez! Win will love you! He likes really buff guys.” He wants me to show off to Winston. Pride comes before the fall, Dino…

“Is that true, Winston?”

He croaked something and then cleared his throat. “Yeah…I guess.”

I swaggered over to him and popped a double-bicep. “Is this what you like?” He didn’t respond, but just stared. “It’s ok to touch.” He reached out a hand but I took a step back. “If you ask permission.”

He licked his lips. “Can I touch you?”

In a low voice I said, “What do you say, boy?”

“Please….Sir.”

“Go ahead, boy.”

Winston ran his hands over my biceps and gave them a tentative squeeze. I looked him in the eye and smiled. “Are you ready to be honest with me?” 

Before he could answer, I heard Dean walk out of the kitchen. I turned around. I almost put my shirt back on, but Dean was challenging me, and I wasn’t going to back down. So I just draped it over the back of my chair and sat down. “Apparently you were right,” I said to Dean, who was carrying two porcelain serving bowls of Chinese food. 

Dean was serious about food being a passion. He was an excellent cook: shrimp with lobster sauce and stir-fried broccoli in some sort of brown sauce that tasted delicious. As long as I went really light on the rice, it was actually fairly healthy food. We had the usual dinner chat in a situation like this—how they met (an art fair at a local museum), what they did for fun (movies and antiquing were big ones), my short-lived career as a competitive gymnast, and a few similar things. Winston kept staring at me sidewise and I let him check me out by frequently leaning back and stretching out. I’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist by nature; gymnastics gives a lot of cover to that sort of behavior, honestly. Knowing that I was teasing Winston made the evening a lot of fun. 

As the meal was winding down, we got to talking about Winston’s career as an artist and how that got started. Dean stood up and picked up the now-empty serving dishes. “Win, why don’t you show him your studio? I’ve got cleaning up to do.”

I looked Winston in the eye. “I would love to see that.” 

Winston looked a little nervous. “Sure,” he said in a way that was very unsure. As we headed to the back end of the condo, I grabbed my leather jacket. It’s always important to have the right equipment for my work.

Winston’s studio was what would have been a spacious bedroom in most apartments. It was filled with all the materials I would have expected for a painter: paints, blank canvases, photos of things for inspiration, and several easels with works in progress on them. I draped my jacket over a chair near the door and let him give me a tour. No evidence of his sculptures though; he explained that he rented a separate space for that work. 

One of the pieces he was working on was a painting of the martyrdom of St. Sebastian. Although it wasn’t finished, it was clear that Winston had modeled Sebastian on himself, bound to a tree shaped like a cross. The arrows, however, were replaced with words like ‘whore’, ‘faggot’, and ‘cocksucker’, sinking into his skin, cutting jagged wounds into him. 

As I studied it, he came and stood beside me. His body language was jittery and nervous, all fidgety hands and restless shifting of weight. When I looked over at him, he took a step back, as if he was afraid I might hit him. There’s a fine art to keeping a novice boy nervous while helping him feel safe enough to submit. Winston wanted this, but he was also afraid of it, like many boys. 

I took a step toward him. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, Winston? You want to know what it feels like to be tied up and tortured like that, don’t you?”

He took another step back. “Yeah.” He seemed ashamed to say it. 

“And Dean isn’t the man to give you that, is he?”

He sighed. “No. He’s a wonderful husband and I really love him, but…no. He doesn’t know how to do that.” He looked around, like he was trying to avoid looking at me. “I don’t want it from him.”

“You want it from me.” I popped another double-bicep and gave him a cocky grin. “You want it from a man who knows he deserves to be allowed to do that to you.”

When I did that, he looked at me, almost against his will, He stood there, just staring at me. I felt like I was a cobra, hypnotizing his prey with the way it moved. I stood there and slowly shimmied my pecs and abs for him. People have told me I ought to be a stripper, and I periodically think about doing it. All that gymnastics training gave me pretty good control over my body.

“Tell me what you want, fucker. Be honest.

He chewed his lip anxiously. “I…oh god, Sir. I want you to just…just use me. Demand whatever you want from me and I’ll do it, Sir, as long as you let me worship you and serve you.”

I advanced on him and as I came into range, I pushed him back against the exposed brick wall of the studio, steering him to one of the few spots where there wasn’t anything in the way. I stood just an inch or two away from him. 

“You want to touch me, don’t you, fucker?”

“Yes, Sir! Please! You are so physically perfect, every inch a real man.”

I flexed my bicep again. “Kiss it.”

He leaned forward and kissed it without hesitation. He began to stroke it, squeezing it and murmuring about how big and powerful it was. I’m hardly a bodybuilder, but I’ve learned that guys like Winston don’t need me to be huge; they just need me to act like I’m huge. “I work out regularly to get big. Bigger than you, runt.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m scrawny and weak compared to you.” He had begun to let his hands roam over my chest, testing my pecs to see if they were as firm as my biceps. He had an expression of wonder on his face. “You’re so perfect, Sir. You’re…”

“A god compared to you, bitch.”

He nodded. “Yes, Sir. A god. So…masculine.” His voice sounded almost like he was in a trance or a dream. 

I get hit on a lot, on the apps and at the bars. I’m used to it. But there’s something crazy sexy when a guy just flat out gets lost in worshipping me. It’s like a shot of espresso, or heroin maybe. It makes me feel like the sexiest thing on two legs. So I just stood there, letting him explore my body with his hands and his mouth. He worked his way down my chest, admiring the ridges of my belly and kissing them. 

I grabbed his arms and held them behind his back with one hand. He didn’t resist. The position pushed his body up against mine and I could feel his hard-on pressing into my thigh. The build-up to sex is always fun for me, and breaking down a guy’s reluctance this way felt especially good. Winston hadn’t truly submitted to me, but I already felt like I had near complete control over him. I moved my thigh so it would rub against his dick.

I put my face up to his and said in a low voice, “What do you want, boy?”

He chewed his lip anxiously. “I don’t know, Sir. My husband…”

“…Doesn’t do it for you.”

“He’s a good man. I love him!”

“When was the last time he thrilled you sexually?” 

Winston was silent.

“Yeah, I thought not.” I let go of his arms and backed up slightly. “Ok, boy. You’ve got a choice to make. I’m gonna walk out of here. If, by the time I leave your apartment, you haven’t asked me to fuck you, I’ll just head home and you’ll never see me again. You’ll just have to wonder how good it would have been. On the other hand, if you ask me to do it, right here and now, I will give you a better fuck than Dean has ever done.”

He watched me uncertainly as I backed up a few steps. Then I turned around and walked toward the door of the studio. I stopped by the chair I had slung my jacket over. I picked it up, slipped it on and paused for just a second. He didn’t say a word. I started to deflate inside. I’d failed. I had been so sure I had hooked him, and I’d been wrong. Dean had won the challenge.

“Please,” he said, just as I stepped into the hallway. I stood still, without turning around, waiting. “Please fuck me.”

That deflated feeling re-inflated instantly. I turned around and slowly walked toward him, swagger mode fully engaged. As I did so, I unzipped my jeans and threaded my dick through the fly of my cobalt-blue boxer briefs. My cock juts straight out in front of me. It feels very aggressive to me, and I like it that way. 

“Is this the cock you want to fuck you?”

“Y…yes, Sir.”

I stood right in front of him. “Then get down on your knees and suck it, you cheating whore.”

It was like Winston’s knees buckled under him and he hit the floor so fast I almost winced. He grabbed and pulled me into range of his mouth and immediately began to suck me voraciously. 

“Look at you, you damn cockslut. You’ve been starving for it, haven’t you? Dean’s dick can’t do it for you, can it?”

Winston grunted his agreement that Dean’s dick wasn’t enough, but he didn’t stop sucking me. His technique lacked subtlety or variation, the same way a starving man given food lacks fine manners. He just needed my shaft in his mouth. So I let him suck me, just enjoying the feeling of being nourishment for a starving man. Eventually, though, I grabbed his head and started to face-fuck him, because I wanted to make it clear to him that he was serving me and not the other way around. He gagged and coughed but didn’t try to pull away. The tie holding his hair in a bun snapped and his blond hair fell down over his face. 

But a face-fuck wasn’t my ultimate goal. So eventually I pulled him off my cock and yanked him up to standing. I pressed him against the wall, face to the bricks, and fumbled his pants and underwear down. Winston’s ass was like the rest of him, lean and sleek and a bit boney. I grabbed both his arms and pinned them against the wall, leaving the other hand free to start probing his ass. As I pushed one spit-slicked finger into his hole, he quivered. 

“I’ll bet my one finger already satisfies you as much as Dean’s entire dick ever has.” He didn’t say anything, so I just kept going, slowly teasing his hole and loosening it up. “Yeah, just feel me opening you up so you can handle what I’m gonna do to you, cheater.” He gasped and pushed his ass back, trying to push my fingers deeper into him. 

Eventually I pulled the lube from my pocket. I released his arms so I could spread the lube into his hole property, but he remained as I had positioned him, hands and face against the wall, ass out for easy access. I pushed his legs wider to lower his ass enough for me to hit it properly, and he complied. A few moments later, I positioned myself for entry. 

“A condom…” he sputtered. 

“Not today, cheater. You’re taking it raw. Cheating boys get bred.” I was on PrEP, so I knew it was safe, but I wanted to keep him off-balance and anxious because it would intensify the pleasure of the whole experience. And Winston pushed his ass back after I said it. “Yeah, I thought so. You want it, bitch.” 

Even with an effort to loosen him up, Winston’s ass was tight, so I took my time entering him, assuring him that he could take it. “Oh, yeah!” I gloated as I felt my cock start to slide through his relaxing ass-ring. Then I started fucking him. I started out gently, but rapidly got more forceful, humping away at him. He wasn’t limp, but rather compliant. Although he was slightly taller than me, I was easily strong enough to manhandle him: pushing him, pulling him, lifting him up off the floor briefly, pinning him down against the wall with my arms. Any position I put him in, he did his best to hold for me, one of the marks of a true submissive, in my experience. 

There was a stool nearby that he obviously used while he painted. I grabbed him and bent him over it to give me better access to his ass. He held onto the legs and just let his head hang down, his hair falling down over his face while I pounded him, the stool slowly sliding around the room from the force of my thrusts. He was constantly making small gasps as I slammed into him. His ass stayed tight around my girth. 

“Here it comes, boy. Cheater’s reward!” I gasped as I began to dump my load into him. The first few spurts left me barely in control, but as I regained full use of my limbs, I reached under his hips and began stroking his dick, which was dribbling everywhere. 

“I’ve claimed your, ass, haven’t I, cheater? That was better than anything Dean’s ever done with you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he gasped, as I felt the first shudders of his orgasm.

I grabbed his hair with my free hand and pulled his head up. As he started to cum, I said, “Then tell that to him.”

Dean was standing in the doorway watching. 

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