My New Job
“I know you want to fuck me,” the hot twink taunted, posing in the doorway to his room, the sunlight dappling his eager ass. I knew I should ignore him, that I should return to my work. But I was helpless. The boy was a predator, and I was his prey.
I had been unemployed for three months when I landed the full-time gardener position at a sprawling, $8.5 million dollar estate off of Mulholland Drive. With a wife and k** to feed at home, and another on the way, I needed this job in the worst way.
“I’ll start you on a probationary period,” my boss Nathan Eisman, the owner of the estate, had informed me. Mr. Eisman was an attractive film producer in his mid-fifties. “If you prove yourself in the next month, I’ll make your employment permanent and will start paying you benefits as well.”
“Does anyone else live here with you?” I asked, eyeing the massive twelve-bedroom home on the property.
“It’s just me and—uh—my boy Charlie,” Mr. Eisman replied awkwardly. “But Charlie won’t get in your way.” That promise was soon proven to be false.
The next day, as I was trimming an overgrown row of boxwoods surrounding the pool, a twink in a skimpy, red speedo suddenly appeared from a bedroom that opened onto the patio.
“I’m Charlie,” he introduced himself, “and you must be the new, hot gardener.” Charlie eyed me up and down, assessing every inch of me.
“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” I answered hesitantly under his persistent gaze. “Your dad told me about you.”
“My dad?” Charlie laughed. “No, Nathan isn’t my dad—although sometimes he does like me to call him daddy.”
“I’m sorry,” I blushed. “I didn’t realize that you’re his boyfriend.”
“I’m also not his boyfriend,” Charlie replied sharply. “I’m his house boy.”
“So, you’re like a prostitute?” I asked naively.
“Jesus, no,” Charlie spat, insulted. “Nathan doesn’t pay me. But he does allow me to live here in exchange for helping out around the house.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re really good at helping,” I scoffed.
“I bet you’d like to find out,” the boy taunted, staring down at my crotch.
“How old are you, Charlie?” I asked the boy, trying to ignore his gaze.
“I’m nineteen,” he answered, licking his lips.
“Well, I’m twenty-nine,” I responded. “And I’ve got a wife and k** at home, and another on the way. I don’t need to fuck up this job by playing around with the boss’s little boy toy.”
“Mmm, I love a breeder,” Charlie purred. “Let me ask you something. When did you last fuck your wife?”
“That’s none of your damn business,” I barked, without sharing that it had been five long months of just me and my right hand.
“Wow. Your reaction tells me that it must be a long time since you got your dick wet,” Charlie observed astutely. “And I’ve got a tight, wet cunt.”
I made no response, for I knew that I should diffuse the situation by walking away. But, Christ, I needed to get laid in the worst way. Fucking the boy would be easy. And Mr. Eisman wasn’t even around to find out. As my mind began to explore the possibility of dumping a load in the boy, my cock had hardened and was straining against the fabric of my work pants. Charlie had noticed.
Wordlessly, Charlie turned away from me and headed back to his bedroom off the patio. On his way, he paused and threw back a seductive glance at me as he tossed off his red speedos. I caught a glimpse of a big, floppy cock between his legs, but what interested me was his tight, perky ass that was begging to be defiled.
“I know you want to fuck me,” Charlie taunted, posing in the doorway to his room, the sunlight dappling his eager ass. I knew I should ignore him, that I should return to my work. But I was helpless. The boy was a predator, and I was his prey.
Through the open door, I watched as Charlie bent himself over the bed and presented his ass to me. Even from a distance, I could make out the rimming of downy fur that surrounded his wanton hole. My cock hardened even more, desperate to mine his depths. Charlie awaited patiently, a spider luring me to his web.
I couldn’t take it anymore. With deliberate steps, I made a beeline to Charlie and his beckoning cunt. By the time I crossed the threshold into the shadowy recesses of his room, my pants were undone and I held my firm, eight-incher in hand. Spitting on it, I mounted the boy and impaled him with one, quick thrust.
“FUCK,” Charlie cried out, gripping the sheets as I split his hole in two.
“You like this big cock up your ass, boy?” I demanded, my hands on his hips as I pummeled his hole.
“Yes, sir,” Charlie moaned. “I love your big cock inside me, sir. Fuck me harder, sir. Fuck me harder.”
Giving the boy what he wanted, I began to jackhammer the living shit out of him. He was screaming his head off as I destroyed his hole, but I didn’t care. There wasn’t anyone around to hear us. I could feel my balls pulling up and tightening against my body. I wanted to fuck the boy for hours, but my full balls had other plans.
“You want my cum?” I asked urgently while struggling to hold back my nut for as long as possible.
“Yes,” Charlie exclaimed. “Dump that load in me. Breed my fuckin’ cunt.”
The boy got his wish as my cock erupted deep within his bowels. “FUCK . . . DAMN,” I growled, riding the euphoric ecstasy of seeding his hole. And that’s when I heard it—the sound of clapping coming from behind me.
“Well done,” my boss Mr. Eisman applauded, standing in the doorway. “You really fucked the shit out of the boy.”
“Mr. Eisman—I’m so sorry,” I stammered, pulling out of Charlie, my load pooling at the gaping opening of his hole. “The boy came on to me, Mr. Eisman. I didn’t mean to—”
Mr. Eisman raised his hand to silence me. “No apology necessary,” he assured me as he walked toward us, pulled out his hard cock, and mounted the boy’s wet cunt. “I rather enjoyed watching you fucking him. And I’m a sucker for a sloppy hole.”
“So you’re not gonna fire me?” I pleaded.
“Fire you?” laughed Mr. Eisman, his low-hangers slapping Charlie’s ass with each thrust. “Certainly not. In fact, I’d like it if we could fuck the boy like this on a regular basis.”
Best. Job. Ever.
I had been unemployed for three months when I landed the full-time gardener position at a sprawling, $8.5 million dollar estate off of Mulholland Drive. With a wife and k** to feed at home, and another on the way, I needed this job in the worst way.
“I’ll start you on a probationary period,” my boss Nathan Eisman, the owner of the estate, had informed me. Mr. Eisman was an attractive film producer in his mid-fifties. “If you prove yourself in the next month, I’ll make your employment permanent and will start paying you benefits as well.”
“Does anyone else live here with you?” I asked, eyeing the massive twelve-bedroom home on the property.
“It’s just me and—uh—my boy Charlie,” Mr. Eisman replied awkwardly. “But Charlie won’t get in your way.” That promise was soon proven to be false.
The next day, as I was trimming an overgrown row of boxwoods surrounding the pool, a twink in a skimpy, red speedo suddenly appeared from a bedroom that opened onto the patio.
“I’m Charlie,” he introduced himself, “and you must be the new, hot gardener.” Charlie eyed me up and down, assessing every inch of me.
“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” I answered hesitantly under his persistent gaze. “Your dad told me about you.”
“My dad?” Charlie laughed. “No, Nathan isn’t my dad—although sometimes he does like me to call him daddy.”
“I’m sorry,” I blushed. “I didn’t realize that you’re his boyfriend.”
“I’m also not his boyfriend,” Charlie replied sharply. “I’m his house boy.”
“So, you’re like a prostitute?” I asked naively.
“Jesus, no,” Charlie spat, insulted. “Nathan doesn’t pay me. But he does allow me to live here in exchange for helping out around the house.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re really good at helping,” I scoffed.
“I bet you’d like to find out,” the boy taunted, staring down at my crotch.
“How old are you, Charlie?” I asked the boy, trying to ignore his gaze.
“I’m nineteen,” he answered, licking his lips.
“Well, I’m twenty-nine,” I responded. “And I’ve got a wife and k** at home, and another on the way. I don’t need to fuck up this job by playing around with the boss’s little boy toy.”
“Mmm, I love a breeder,” Charlie purred. “Let me ask you something. When did you last fuck your wife?”
“That’s none of your damn business,” I barked, without sharing that it had been five long months of just me and my right hand.
“Wow. Your reaction tells me that it must be a long time since you got your dick wet,” Charlie observed astutely. “And I’ve got a tight, wet cunt.”
I made no response, for I knew that I should diffuse the situation by walking away. But, Christ, I needed to get laid in the worst way. Fucking the boy would be easy. And Mr. Eisman wasn’t even around to find out. As my mind began to explore the possibility of dumping a load in the boy, my cock had hardened and was straining against the fabric of my work pants. Charlie had noticed.
Wordlessly, Charlie turned away from me and headed back to his bedroom off the patio. On his way, he paused and threw back a seductive glance at me as he tossed off his red speedos. I caught a glimpse of a big, floppy cock between his legs, but what interested me was his tight, perky ass that was begging to be defiled.
“I know you want to fuck me,” Charlie taunted, posing in the doorway to his room, the sunlight dappling his eager ass. I knew I should ignore him, that I should return to my work. But I was helpless. The boy was a predator, and I was his prey.
Through the open door, I watched as Charlie bent himself over the bed and presented his ass to me. Even from a distance, I could make out the rimming of downy fur that surrounded his wanton hole. My cock hardened even more, desperate to mine his depths. Charlie awaited patiently, a spider luring me to his web.
I couldn’t take it anymore. With deliberate steps, I made a beeline to Charlie and his beckoning cunt. By the time I crossed the threshold into the shadowy recesses of his room, my pants were undone and I held my firm, eight-incher in hand. Spitting on it, I mounted the boy and impaled him with one, quick thrust.
“FUCK,” Charlie cried out, gripping the sheets as I split his hole in two.
“You like this big cock up your ass, boy?” I demanded, my hands on his hips as I pummeled his hole.
“Yes, sir,” Charlie moaned. “I love your big cock inside me, sir. Fuck me harder, sir. Fuck me harder.”
Giving the boy what he wanted, I began to jackhammer the living shit out of him. He was screaming his head off as I destroyed his hole, but I didn’t care. There wasn’t anyone around to hear us. I could feel my balls pulling up and tightening against my body. I wanted to fuck the boy for hours, but my full balls had other plans.
“You want my cum?” I asked urgently while struggling to hold back my nut for as long as possible.
“Yes,” Charlie exclaimed. “Dump that load in me. Breed my fuckin’ cunt.”
The boy got his wish as my cock erupted deep within his bowels. “FUCK . . . DAMN,” I growled, riding the euphoric ecstasy of seeding his hole. And that’s when I heard it—the sound of clapping coming from behind me.
“Well done,” my boss Mr. Eisman applauded, standing in the doorway. “You really fucked the shit out of the boy.”
“Mr. Eisman—I’m so sorry,” I stammered, pulling out of Charlie, my load pooling at the gaping opening of his hole. “The boy came on to me, Mr. Eisman. I didn’t mean to—”
Mr. Eisman raised his hand to silence me. “No apology necessary,” he assured me as he walked toward us, pulled out his hard cock, and mounted the boy’s wet cunt. “I rather enjoyed watching you fucking him. And I’m a sucker for a sloppy hole.”
“So you’re not gonna fire me?” I pleaded.
“Fire you?” laughed Mr. Eisman, his low-hangers slapping Charlie’s ass with each thrust. “Certainly not. In fact, I’d like it if we could fuck the boy like this on a regular basis.”
Best. Job. Ever.
1 year ago
