Friday

FRIDAY
By Jerry Blask
(Cummin’Up.Vol2.No1.1990)

It wasn't a bad job as jobs go. Trouble is, sometimes it went too far. As the boss's assistant I got a pretty good salary, but I also got blamed for anything that went wrong, even if it wasn't my fault. Okay, so the boss needed a scapegoat, and he was willing to pay for one. I could understand the pressure the guy was under having to constantly tiptoe his way through the mine fields of big business. By the time Friday came around, he was about ready to explode.

Meanwhile, he let off what steam he could by using me as his whipping boy, figuratively if not literally. It was "Jerry, can't you do anything right. Get me a coffee — if you can handle such a dangerous and complicated assignment." And "Jerry, you're a horse's ass, you know that? I don't know why I keep you on the payroll!"

We both knew very well why he kept me on the payroll. He was a middle aged guy, balding, going to paunch, with a touch of diabetes and a fat, ugly, nagging, spendthrift wife he didn't want to touch sexually — and he had an empire to run. He needed me. I was his safety valve.

Thank God it was Friday. With all the other employees gone for the weekend I locked the front door and went back into the boss's private office. He was sitting at his desk with his head cradled in his hands, his elbows on a mass of paperwork long overdue. He hardly glanced up at me as I walked across the room to the big filing cabinet, inserted a key to open it, and from the top drawer pulled out leather boots, leather pants, a leather harness-like vest, and a leather whip. I placed them on the big couch set against the wall and undressed, vaguely aware that the boss was watching me with his usual interest.

Within seconds I was completely naked, stretching, flexing my muscles. I look better naked than in a business suit that hides my well exercised body. I could almost feel the boss's eyes raking my flesh from top to bottom, but lingering more often than not on that big cock that dangled in front of me like a thick whip handle.

The leather trousers were an intentionally tight fit, even with the drop away codpiece that enclosed my massive genitals. I managed to snug them up over my hips and fasten them securely. They were so tight they outlined my cock and balls in bold relief, and the sensation on my genitals of the leather's smooth grip made my cock get even harder which in turn made the black garment tighter.

The boss had seen me like this many times before, but each time his mouth hung open with renewed excitement. I put on the leather boots, followed by the harness vest that fit across my chest and over my muscular shoulders. I took the whip in one hand and smacked the handle forcefully against the palm of my other hand.

The boss shivered — and with good reason. I walked with an insolent swagger toward him, smacking my palm rhythmically. When I was beside him, I halted and stared down at his frightened face.

I said, ''All right, you nauseating piece of shit — now's the time to show me what kind of a man you are!"

"Y-yes," he managed to croak. 

I slammed the whip handle onto his desk with explosive force. "Yes — what?" 

"Yes, master," he agreed meekly.

I smiled. "That's more like it. Would you like to smell my leather bound crotch, you disgusting excuse for a human being?"

Eagerly, he leaned forward, but another blow to his desk made him shrink back in alarm. "Don't hurt me," he begged. "I'll do anything you want."

"Of course you will," I assured him. "Because now I'm the boss here! Isn't that correct?"

"Yes, master," he agreed meekly. 

"Now you may worship my crotch," I said benevolently.

The boss pressed his face to my leather bulge and began kissing me all over the area. My cock was already up half hard and thick just from the tightness of the leather garment, but his eager mouth working over it made my flesh harder and hotter. He was obviously enjoying what he was doing. During these subservient moments he loved the feel of the leather and the smell of it as he inhaled deeply.

I backed away, and he looked up at me pleadingly and whimpered. "Take off your clothes, you snivelling wimp." I ordered. "And hurry!"

He hurried, fumbling with his expensive coat, tie and trousers and all the rest of it, but within a few minutes he was completely naked, his white, paunchy slug's body trembling with fear and flinching with apprehension as I moved toward him.

"What have we here?" I asked, placing the butt of the whip handle under his small cock and lifting it. "It looks like a tiny white worm that's just crawled out from under a damp rock. What a sorry excuse you are for a man. Would you like to see a real man's cock?"

His face brightened. "Oh yes, master. I would — please."

I watched him hold his breath and stare at my codpiece as I inserted finger and thumb along the top of it and prepared to tear it loose. I hesitated, smiling at his anxiety and eagerness, then tore it loose from its snaps. Instantly, my hard cock jutted out like a whip handle in its own right, bringing a gasp of appreciation from my former boss.

"Now suck it," I ordered him. "Put your unworthy mouth on my precious man's cock and suck it—and if you do a good job maybe I'll even fuck you up your ass."

He went at it with gusto, kissing and licking and sucking like a starving man. He tried to get his lips and mouth and tongue all over my inflamed genitals at once. I admitted to myself something I would never tell him — that he was very good at it; my stiff cock would testify to that.

But I said, disgustedly, "You can't even suck cock, you miserable pile of bird dung. Are you any better at licking assholes?"

I turned my back to him, pulled the leather pants down over my ass, and bending, stuck my butt in his face. Instantly, his hands separated my cheeks, and his tongue stabbed at my asshole and licked the perimeter, and tried to force its way inside. He made all sorts of slurp-ing, sucking, kissing and murmuring sounds and the feel of his tongue on my most intimate pleasure zone made me more sexually excited than ever.

I was almost ready to shoot off when I said, "Enough! Now I want you to get out the Vaseline and grease your asshole and my cock. You are going to get the fucking of your life!"

Squealing with eagerness, the boss got a jar of jelly from a desk drawer, scooped up two fingers full, which he applied liberally to my hard, throbbing pole. Then he bent over the desk, forcing the jelly into his asshole, after which he spread his cheeks and waited.

I caught my breath at the sight of that white ass and in the epicenter that greasy puckered asshole that was about to swallow up every inch of my mighty cock. But I said, "I'd rather fuck a knothole than that."

"Please, master," he begged in a whiney voice. "Fuck my ass!"

Impulsively, I smacked his ass cheeks with the flats of my palms. He shuddered, but he kept his cheeks pulled apart to reveal the target for me. I eased up behind him, pressed the thick, hard knob of my cock right onto the wrinkled opening of his tight fuck tunnel. As he held his breath I forced the head past the entrance. Once I got that inside it began to squeeze my invading cock in a fist grip, but I kept driving it relentlessly forward, going in deeper, striving to hit bottom.

I made it all the way in and then held it there while the boss held his breath and drew in ragged mouthfuls of air as he tried to adjust himself to my long, fat cock that was now fully imbedded all the way inside his hot, tight asshole. Frankly, I had to pause for a moment to keep from immediately shooting off my wad inside him before I was ready to.

"Fuck my unworthy ass, master," the boss begged me. "Use me for your pleasure. Do with me what you will."

Which is just what I intended to do, of course. I held onto his hips and brutally slammed my hard cock deep into the hole in the center of his white ass, going in all the way with such force it drew gasps from his parched lips and made my heavy balls slap against his flabby flesh.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't all feel good. I loved the feel and the smell of leather on my body. I loved having my hard cock sucked by a pompous businessman and then using that same big cock to fuck his ass. I loved humiliating the son of a bitch as much as I could — as much as he enjoyed my humiliating and degrading him.

By this time, the rest of the building was completely empty and the clean-up crew didn't come in until Sunday night anyway. So we had all the time in the world. But I couldn't last forever — I was enjoying pounding it in and out of his ass, but I didn't want to give him any more pleasure than was necessary.

When I was finally ready to come, I said, ''Okay, turn around, you fucking cocksucker. I want you to catch every drop of my come in your mouth and don't you dare spill a single drop."

I pulled my swollen cock from his asshole with a slurping sound. He whirled around quickly, sat in his big chair and opened his mouth to receive my throbbing and ready to explode flesh. I shoved it hard down his throat, held onto his head to keep him steady, and started pumping out a big load into his face. After that big lead up to this, my orgasm felt marvellous — but as usual, the boss couldn't take my big load in his tiny throat. He choked and gasped and twisted his head until he'd pulled away, letting the rest of my hot squirting come splatter all over his face.

"I — I'm sorry," he croaked when he recovered his breath.

"You didn't say ‘master,’" I snarled. His already white face grew paler still. 

"Master," he whispered, and cowered in his chair.

"You're nothing but a stinking glob of slime," I grated. "I don't know why I waste my time with you. Don't move."

He watched fearfully as I climbed up onto his desk and stood above him with my cock in my hand. I felt the warm piss rumble inside my bladder and rush up my cock tube to the piss hole then saw it cascade out in a thin yellow stream that struck the boss fully in the face, splattering down over his flabby body in a series of tiny cataracts. I kept pissing, moving my cock back and forth, up and down, to inundate him completely, but concentrating mostly on his blinking eyes and sputtering mouth.

I'd enjoyed the sucking and the fucking and the orgasm, but in some ways I enjoyed this pissing on the boss most of all. When I was through, I walked over to the file cabinet by the couch, removed my leather outfit, which I folded and placed in the top drawer, which I then locked. In the adjoining executive restroom I drew a washcloth over my cock and balls to refresh them, and then calmly returned to the office to put my business clothes back on.

The boss was still huddled in his chair, breathing heavily, my come still dribbled from his lips, my piss decorated his hair and face and body. He didn't say anything as I walked across the room. I paused at the door and said, "I'll see you Monday."

"You damn well better," he said in a hostile voice.

I grinned at him. "You're the boss." I assured him.

"And don't you forget it," he snarled.

I wouldn't forget it. On Monday things would be back to normal. But Friday would be here again before either of us knew it. I could hardly wait.