The worst and best day of my life

[willypeter]

My sexuality had become about as laid back as it could get, laid back to the point of non existence. My marriage was on the rocks, and we were deeply in debt. I thought things couldn't get much worse, then they did. I was the HR officer in a large corporation and making good money, though not more than my wife could spend. She was a stay at home wife, even though we had no kids and were both in our 40s, and she seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time preening in front of her bathroom mirror and shopping with our numerous credit cards, mostly for clothes and lingerie she never wore for me.
On D Day (for disaster), a Monday, I showed up at work early as I usually did and checked my email. I had an urgent message from the Sr. VP to check in with him first thing Monday morning, so I strolled down to his office. His secretary wouldn't look me in the eye, and I got that sinking feeling. He was professional and polite but firm. The corporation was downsizing and all HR functions were being moved to our corporate HQ in NY. I was being let go, today, now. I would get a severance package, some career counseling, and six weeks of salary while I shopped for a new job, but I had to clear my office immediately.
When I went back to pack things (he even had some packing crates for me), I started to call Linda to tell her and thought better of it. I tried to log on to email some friends goodbye, but I no longer had access to the corporate network. Damn! I threw my personal effects in a box and walked out under the painful gaze of my coworkers for the last 18 years.
I stopped for breakfast and coffee at my favorite downtown eatery and said goodbye to everyone there, then drove the 45 minutes home to the suburbs slowly, slowly, wondering what the hell I was going to tell my wife and what we were going to do with all that debt. I arrived home in a daze only to see a pickup truck parked in my driveway. I wondered what the hell that was all about, then it dawned on me. I drove past the house and stopped a couple of blocks away and got out my cell phone. I dialed the house and quickly punched the code to retrieve messages on the answering machine in our bedroom so the phone wouldn't ring at home. My wife had never figured out how to work the answering machine.....or anything else....so she had no idea that it had a security function that allowed me to activate the speaker on the phone on our nightstand and listen for intruders in our house. I won't bore you with what I heard because you already know. Whoever he was, he was doing a good job, and she was squealing like a banshee and keeping up an amazingly pornographic monologue: "Fuck me, daddy. Oh yeah. Like that. Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum. Ahhh, ahhh, ahhhhhhhhh, Goddamn, daddy, I love that big dick. Oh fuck!"
It was the worst moment of the worst day of my life, and I didn't even bother to go home. I drove straight to my lawyer's office and told him to start divorce proceedings, then took a cheap motel room in a seedy part of town with a pack of Camels (I had quit smoking 20 years before) and a fifth of Jameson's. When I checked in, an obviously gay young desk clerk asked me if I need the room by the hour of by the day. I replied that I wanted to pay for two weeks, and he raised an eyebrow. "Sugar, nobody stays in this dump for two weeks!"
Before I knew it, I was spilling the beans to him about why I was and what had happened that day. He was very effeminate, and he reacted like my wife might have: "Oh, darlin', " he said. "I can't believe they'd let you go just like that. And what is that bitch of a wife thinking? You're a handsome man, sugar. I know about these things."
Strangely, that cheered me up terrifically. I laughed nervously and wandered off to my room. At noon the phone rang, and it was him.
"I just finished a 12 hour shift, sugar, but I couldn't quit thinking about the day you've had. Would you like a little help with that whiskey and someone to talk to?"
You know where that was going, and I did, too, but I'd had enough Jameson's by then to not give a shit. I don't think I'd ever truly even thought about having sex with another man, and I didn't then, but there was something feminine and warm and compassionate about this skinny kid in his early 20s. God knows I needed some company. I invited him to my room.
That kid took me on the best trip around the world I'd had in 30 years. It took awhile to get started, but he was a wonderfully compassionate companion, and his gestures and conversation were so feminine that it felt fine. And I had no idea I was that horny and stuffed up, either. I came six times before midnight, when he had to be back on the front desk. Everything we did was a first for me, but it felt fine. That's not the shocker, though. The shocker came around 8 that night. I dropped load number four in his ass, another first, and he was by any standard a great little piece of ass, tight, responsive, clean, and very very enthusiastic. Afterward he cuddled up in my armpit while I smoked a Camel and lay there quietly for a long time. Finally he spit it out.
"Can I say something without pissing you off, sugar?"
"Sure."
"I'm not trying to be mean, honey, but you're gay. You're queer as a three dollar bill. You're the best damned man fuck I've ever had, but you are totally gay. Can you handle that?"
I was in a sort of dreamy, drunken state, and his words, like his actions, didn't offend me in any way.
"What makes you think that?"
"This makes me think that, sugar!"
He took my hand and moved it down to his erection. Well, shit, I don't know how I missed it, but this girl had a huge boner, and it felt hot and throbby in my hand. I realized that I hadn't once thought of his pleasure in the previous eight hours of fucking and sucking. I had held on to his skinny, tight, muscular ass (a welcome change from my
wife's large flabby ass which she only shared easily with others, apparently) when I fucked him and grabbed his ears and ****** his head all the way down my joint, but it had never occurred to me to touch his equipment. Now I was holding it in my hand, and it felt good and ......needy. I slid down his belly and began to suck him. Again, it not only felt natural, it felt good. It felt like the best sex I'd ever had. I was probably pretty gross in my tipsy state, because I really wanted to deep throat him like he'd done me, and I couldn't. It didn't stop me from trying, though, and I was choking and gagging and slurping my way to heaven on that hard meat. When he got close, he slowed me down and asked me to finish him slow and easy so I'd remember it all. I did, and he did, and it was great, terrific, like a logjam breaking up and floating down the river.
I woke up at 9 am with a hangover and a terrible conscience. Oh Jesus, what had I done?
Shame and guilt flooded over me, and I slipped out to my car and left, leaving my two week rent for fear of having to confront my gay lover of the previous night. I drove to my lawyer's office and told him to cancel the divorce, and I drove home and pulled into an empty driveway.

 

[willypeter]

Part 2

Linda was waiting.
"Where the fuck have you been? I've been worried sick about you! "
"Shut up, bitch!" I said. "Don't even talk to me. I did come home, but you were too busy fucking pickup boy to notice. Now leave me the fuck alone while I clean up and get some sleep."
A couple of days later we had the Talk. She was tearful and apologetic, and I was resolute and unforgiving.
"Look, Linda, I'm just going to say this. I'm only back here because of convenience. I don't give a shit about you anymore or who you fuck or what you do. You haven't given a shit about me for years. I thought you were post menopausal and dried up or something, but obviously I was wrong. Meanwhile, while you were fucking pickup boy, I was in a seedy motel fucking a young gay guy, and you know what, he thinks I'm gay, too! I don't know if that's true or not....yet.....but I intend to find out. So let's just leave it at that. You have your lover or lovers and I'll have mine. We'll stay here because the house is paid for and neither of us has anyplace else to go, but don't you dare fuck with me about a single goddamned thing. You got that?"
Her reaction was strange, almost like it was turning her on to see me so forceful, and I have to admit that I was enjoying abusing her. Partly, it was revenge, but partly it was just breaking the mold of the professional HR person that I had twisted myself into all these years. Always politically correct, polite, and professional. Now I was just another unemployed middle age guy.
I knew all about the services my former employer gave those they laid off to avoid lawsuits since I was the guy who set them up, so a couple of weeks later I went to the
suite of offices where the outplacement service helped guys like me. I took a temporary office, knocked out a new C.V. and resume, went to some career counseling and began hitting the streets looking for a job. I began to feel strangely better about myself in a lot of ways. I hadn't realized how stifling my marriage and job had become, and I couldn't get that little gay guy off my mind. Shamefully, it was not him as a person I remembered so much as I remembered the hot, hot excitement of uninhibited man sex. And as ashamed as I had felt the next morning, the thing I remembered most was him telling me I was gay and putting my hand on his hard cock and sliding down his belly to suck it. It was by far the best moment of the worst day of my life.
But all of that is not the story I started off to write, though it's all true enough. The story I wanted to write was of my third interview for a job after getting let go. I was following hot leads for good jobs, jobs that would pay enough to cover my bills and allow me to stay in Dallas, and I was a savvy HR guy who knew how the game was played. Unfortunately, my best two prospects landed me interviews with two female HR people and though I'm excellent at interviews, neither had gone well. My mind kept wandering during the interviews, and I found myself thinking unkind thoughts about both women. The first was a young professional hottie maybe five years out of college, and she was a very subtle flirt. I kept thinking that if I threw her down and fucked her on her desk, I'd have the job as soon as we zipped up. The second was a fat matronly woman who I thought was a bitch, and I wanted to say that to her. "You're a fat ugly bitch and you can't interview worth a shit! Why would I want to work for your company?" I didn't, of course, but I knew I'd not hear from either, and I didn't.
The third interview was a few days later, and I went there kind of off balance and not expecting much. For one thing, I was interviewing for an HR position in a company with only ten employees, and there was no existing HR office. For another, the company was an oilfield supply startup that had only been in business two years. It was a field about which I knew nothing and a small company, not a large corporation. The other surprise was when I got there; there was no receptionist or secretary. In fact, for a moment I thought the small tidy brick HQ was empty. When I couldn't find anyone, I offered a soft, "Hello." No answer.
Just then I heard a door open down a hallway to my right, and a tall gray haired man came out zipping up his pants. I heard the toilet flushing behind him. He grinned hugely and stuck out his hand.
"You must be William. Glad to meet you. I'm T.J. ******, Jr. but everyone just calls me Junior. Come on in my office. I run this outfit."
Junior looked like anything but a Junior to me. In fact, his personality was as big as Texas. The man exuded confidence, cheerfulness, and a barely subdued raw power. He was like nothing I'd ever seen in the corporate world, rangy, rawboned, and earthy. We exchanged some pleasantries, and then he cut to the chase.
"Look William, I'm a pretty blunt guy, and I hope you'll forgive me. I don't really need an HR guy, but I've checked you out, and you're plenty good enough for what I need. I do all my own hiring because I've got a knack for it. I can read people like no one you've ever met, and I'm almost never wrong, so I don't need to interview you or have you interview for me. I already know all I need to know about you. I just need you to set up an HR office to keep me out of jail with my employees. We only have ten right now, but I've just landed a big ass contract in Saudi Arabia, and I'm going to be hiring about thirty people in the next two months. I need you to make sure I cross all the t's and dot all the i's. I already know who I'm going to hire, just like I already know I'm going to hire you. I just want it all legal and done right, okay?"
I nodded. This was one strange damned interview, but the guy was mesmerizing me with the force of his personality. His hands were huge and freckled and each was adorned with large diamond rings that had his initials on them. He was leaning his ass on the front of his desk and his hands were resting on his rangy thighs. I kept staring at those diamond rings.
"Did you hear what I asked you?" he suddenly said. "What are you looking at, Billy?"
I hate that name. I've gone by William since college, but I was always Billy as a child.
"I was looking at your rings, Mr. ******, and I'd prefer that you call me William instead of Billy."
"Well, Billy," he said. "I guess we better get a couple of things straight if you're going to be working for me. First, I'm gonna call you Billy because that's the kind of goddamned outfit I run. This is an oilfield outfit, and there ain't no Williams here. Second, I don't like being called Mr. ******. I'm Junior like I told you. Third, I don't pay nearly as well as them outfits you've worked for before, and I expect a lot more of my employees. You probably noticed that there ain't many people in my office building here. In fact, I'm it. I farm out my bookkeeping and do my own secretarial work, but you're going to take over some of the secretarial stuff for me. In fact, Billy, you're going to be the goddamned chief cook and bottle washer in this outfit and do a little bit of everything I need done. You and me are the headquarters of this outfit from now on. You okay with that?"
I was trying to be professional, but I felt weak around this guy. This was not my world, and he was overpowering me and expecting me to just go along with it. I felt obligated to get things back on a more professional footing.
"Well, Mr. ******......."
"Junior, goddamnit! How many times I have to tell you that, Billy? You ain't slow or something are you?"
"Okay, Junior. No I'm not slow at all. I'm also not a goddamned secretary or chief cook or anything else. I'm a professional Human Resources person with a master's degree, and
this is one of the least professional, strangest interviews I've ever sat through. Frankly, Junior, I don't think I want to work here."
I felt good saying that, just as I felt good telling Linda to shut the fuck up. Something was happening to me that I couldn't exactly articulate, but I liked it. Junior just sat there on the edge of his desk smiling at me.
y life.

 

[willypeter]

Part 3

"Well, now, ain't you the Bull Moose, Billy. I ain't professional enough for you, huh? Well, that's too bad, because this ain't my first company, Billy. I've sold two before this for a total of 45 million dollars because they got too goddamned big to have any fun with. Do you know how to have fun at work, Billy? Have you ever really enjoyed a goddamn job or enjoyed working at something you love?"
His blue eyes were burning with a fever I'd never seen in a man, and I didn't know what to say. It occurred to me that I'd hated every day I'd ever worked in the corporate world, and this guy was offering me something different.
"I didn't think so," he said. "You ever play poker, Billy?"
"I'm not a gambler, Junior," I said.
"Well don't try poker, Billy. I can read you like a book. Now let's cut the bullshit. I'm offering you a job. It don't have no job description. It don't have regular hours. It don't pay much yet, but, by God, Billy it's a chance to have some fun working for a man who knows how to have fun and grow a company. You sign on and I'll make you happy and rich in ten years. What do you say?"
"I'm not sure, Mr. ....Junior. You haven't really told me what I'll be doing. It's a little unstructured for my taste."
Junior broke out laughing.
"Unstructured, huh? How much structure you need?"
His smile was beginning to really annoy me. It was that cocksure smile of someone who knows something you don't know and isn't in any hurry to tell you. I felt myself flushing with anger, and I was just about to say something when Junior beat me to it.
"Don't get your panties in a knot, Billy. I'm just fucking with you. I already know you're going to take the job, and we're going to be a great team. You're just what I'm looking for."
"You haven't asked me a single question, Junior. Why do you think you know me so well?"
"It's a gift I have. Want me to prove it?"
"By all means!"
"Okay, you asked for it, Billy. I'm going to be blunt. Remember a minute ago when I asked you if you heard me and when I got your attention I asked you what you were looking at?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, my diamond rings may have caught your attention, Billy, but that ain't what you were looking at or thinking about. The reason you didn't hear my question is because you were looking at the crotch of my trousers and trying to figure out how big my dick is, and you were daydreaming about sucking it and hoping it would be large. You like 'em large, don't you, Billy?"
His right hand dropped to his crotch and began to massage through the expensive slacks. I stood to leave, a righteous anger welling in my throat but not finding its way to voice. He stepped forward quickly and shoved me backward onto the leather couch again.
"Sit down, bitch! It's time for you to meet T.J., Senior!"
With that he smoothly unzipped and fished out the most beautiful cock I had ever seen. It was fat and limp and uncut, and it hung almost eight inches out of his trousers.
"This is the clincher, Billy. You get to suck old Senior anytime I feel horny. It's just me and you in the office, and you're going to be my little receptionist, secretary, HR cocksucker, and general office bitch for a bunch of rough tough oilfield trash. Now stick Senior down your throat and show Junior what you can do."
My emotions were boiling but I took him into my mouth and sucked for all I was worth. Junior was in his early 60s I imagine, but he was a hell of a man. His dick didn't get as hard as the first one I sucked earlier, but it made up for it in sheer elegance and power. I sucked him like there was no tomorrow, and he smiled and humped my throat and clamped my head in those huge hands of his. When he came, he made a very sexy grunting sound and held my head until I swallowed it all. He pulled out slowly and let his limp dick drip on my trousers, still holding onto my head and smiling at me. Finally, he let go and backed off.
"I want you to start tomorrow morning at 7, Billy. We're going to be a great team, and you're going to love working here. Now you get on home and try to explain those cum stains on your britches to Linda."
I was stunned to hear him say my wife's name.
"How do you know my wife's name?"
"Well, it's on your resume for one thing, dumbass, and I already told you I had you checked out. I hear from the report that Linda's a real looker and pretty free with her favors, too. Did you know that, Billy?"
I just looked down. I almost felt like crying for some reason. Junior stepped forward and put his arm around my shoulders.
"I know all about it, Billy. I want to help you learn to have some fun again and make some real money being who you are. And while we're at it, let's let Linda be who she is, too, okay? We can't keep all the fun to ourselves, now can we? In a few weeks you'll be bringing her around here once in a while and watching ol' Junior feed her this big dick, and if you're good about it, we'll let you clean her pussy up afterward."
He walked me out to my car with his arm around my shoulders and patted me on the back as I got in.
"How old is this Honda, Billy?"
"It's a 98," I said.
"And what's Linda driving?"
"She's got a 2005 Beemer" I said.
"Tell you what, Billy, if you're going to be my right hand man, you're going to need to look a little more prosperous. Why don't you have Linda drive you to work tomorrow in her Beemer and you make that your car? I'll take Linda out and buy her something nice to drive. Does she like Cadillacs? Is she Cadillac pussy? I bet she is. You go on home now and tell Linda about Junior and Senior and what good friends we're all going to be, and I'll see y'all back here at 7, okay?"
My dick was so hard it was like tool steel. I nodded weakly and drove away fast. I couldn't wait to get home and tell Linda about this day, the best day of m

 

[duke9555]

gracias little willy

 

[brisbanecuck]

looking forward to more of this story....