Work Conference (Patreon)

Hey everyone! Hope you’re all doing well and having an amazing weekend. Today I have a one-off for you all. Have you ever had the hots for a work colleague? Then this story is for you.

More corncob cumming up next week for you as well :)

Enjoy!

Everyone in this story is 18+

They were three beers deep in the cramped hotel room when the talk turned filthy. Jack sat on the edge of his bed in a white undershirt stretched tight across his thick chest and gray sweatpants, bottle dangling between his knees. Broad shoulders, heavy arms, the kind of build that came from years of serious lifting and zero patience for cardio. Magnus lounged across from him in the chair, long legs stretched out, still in his work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Tall, leaner, pale blond hair a little messy from the day, that calm Swedish way of watching everything without rushing to fill the silence.

“Missionary is fine,” Jack said, voice already loose and loud. “But I like when she’s on top, grinding down hard. You feel everything. Ass bouncing, tits in your face.” He took a long pull and grinned, all teeth. “You?”

Magnus smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Doggy. Deep. Holding her hips so she can’t pull away. That angle hits different.”

Jack laughed, the sound rough. “Yeah? Show me.”

It started as a joke. Magnus stood, set his bottle down, and turned around, planting his hands on the desk. Jack rose behind him, big hands settling on Magnus’s hips through the fabric of his trousers, pulling him back so their bodies lined up. Jack’s crotch pressed against the curve of Magnus’s ass. Both of them were still soft. Still joking.

“Like this,” Magnus said, pushing back experimentally, voice steady. “You drive in, she arches.”

Jack’s grip tightened. He rolled his hips once, slow, demonstrating the thrust. The friction of cloth on cloth was nothing, but the heat of Jack’s body against him made Magnus’s stomach tighten. He pushed back again, harder this time, and felt Jack’s cock start to thicken against the cleft of his ass.

Jack’s breath caught. Something shifted in his chest. “Fuck. You’re getting hard too.”

Magnus glanced down. The front of his trousers was tenting. He didn’t move away. Instead he ground back a second time, feeling Jack’s shaft swell and press more firmly. Jack’s hands slid from hips to the front of Magnus’s belt, fingers working the buckle open without asking. The zipper followed. Magnus’s cock sprang free, already flushed and heavy, the head wet.

Jack stared for a second. His own pulse was hammering in his throat. This was supposed to be a joke. Two straight guys messing around after beers. He shoved his sweatpants down anyway. His dick was thicker, darker, the vein along the top standing out as it filled. He stepped in close again, pressing the length of it against Magnus’s bare ass, sliding it up and down the cleft while his hand wrapped around Magnus’s shaft and stroked once, slow and firm.

Magnus hissed. “Jesus, Jack.”

“Shut up.” Jack’s voice had gone lower, almost angry at himself. He kept stroking, thumb smearing the wetness over the head, while his own prick rubbed between Magnus’s cheeks. The dual sensation made Magnus’s thighs shake. He reached back and grabbed Jack’s hip, pulling him tighter.

That was the moment it cracked. Jack spun him around, one big hand fisting in Magnus’s shirt, and crushed their mouths together. The kiss was messy, open, all tongue and teeth. Jack’s cock dragged against Magnus’s, the two shafts sliding together, slick with precum. Jack moaned into the kiss like the sound had been ripped out of him. His hips started rocking, fucking their cocks against each other in short, urgent thrusts. His head was spinning. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He liked women. He talked about women. But the heat and the slide and the way Magnus’s hand was now gripping the back of his neck felt better than anything he had felt in months.

When they broke for air Jack’s eyes were glassy. “Fuck, I need it,” he muttered, already dropping to his knees like his body had decided for him. He buried his face in Magnus’s crotch, nose pressed to the base, inhaling hard, then opened his mouth and took the head in. The wet heat of Jack’s mouth closed around him, tongue working the underside while his hand stroked what he couldn’t swallow yet. Jack’s own cock hung heavy between his thighs, untouched, leaking onto the carpet.

Magnus stared down at the big, loud American who had been bragging about women’s asses ten minutes ago, now on his knees with his lips stretched around another man’s dick, eyes half-lidded, throat working. Jack looked up, mouth full, and the expression on his face was pure need mixed with something close to panic. He pulled off just long enough to rasp, “Use me. Fuck my face. I want it. Don’t know why but I fucking want it.”

Magnus’s hand settled on the back of Jack’s head. He pushed forward, slow at first, watching the thick shaft disappear between Jack’s lips. Jack took it, gagging once, then relaxing his throat and letting Magnus sink deeper. Spit ran down Jack’s chin. His hands gripped Magnus’s thighs hard enough to leave marks. Every time Magnus pulled back Jack chased the cock with his mouth, greedy, making wet, desperate sounds like he was trying to prove something to himself.

Jack pulled off again, panting, lips shiny. “Bed. Now. I need you to fuck me.”

He scrambled up, shoved his sweatpants the rest of the way off, and climbed onto the mattress on all fours, presenting his ass without shame even as his face burned. The heavy muscles of his back flexed as he dropped his chest lower, spreading his knees. Magnus climbed up behind him, still hard, still dripping. He spit into his palm, smeared it over Jack’s hole, and pressed two fingers in. Jack’s body clenched, then opened for him with a broken moan that sounded half like protest and half like relief.

“More,” Jack begged, pushing back onto the fingers, voice rough. “I can take it. Give me your cock. Just do it before I think about it too hard.”

Magnus circled the hole and then pushed. The head stretched Jack’s rim, thick and insistent. Jack’s breath left him in a long, shaky groan as the shaft sank in, inch by inch, until Magnus’s hips were flush against Jack’s ass. The heat and tightness pulled a curse out of Magnus. He started thrusting, deep and steady, watching the way Jack’s hole gripped him on every withdrawal.

Jack’s voice cracked. “Harder. Fuck me like you mean it. Use my hole. Fuck, why does this feel so good?”

Magnus did. He gripped Jack’s hips and drove in harder, the wet slap of skin filling the room. Jack’s cock swung beneath him, untouched and leaking steadily onto the sheets. Every thrust punched a broken sound out of Jack’s throat. He was fully gone now, submissive, open, begging for more cock, the earlier talk about women completely forgotten under the sheer physical overload.

Magnus reached under and wrapped a hand around Jack’s shaft, stroking in time with his thrusts. Jack’s whole body shuddered. “I’m gonna cum,” he choked. “Don’t stop. Fill me. Please. Fuck, please.”

Magnus fucked him through it, pounding deep while Jack’s dick pulsed and spilled across the mattress in thick ropes. The clench of Jack’s ass dragged Magnus over the edge a few thrusts later. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard, flooding Jack’s hole, hips jerking as he emptied everything he had.

They stayed locked together for a long moment, both breathing hard, Jack’s body still trembling under him. When Magnus finally pulled out, Jack’s hole fluttered and a slow trickle of come slipped free. Jack collapsed onto his stomach, spent, and looked back over his shoulder with a dazed, almost embarrassed grin.

“Same time tomorrow night?” he asked, voice wrecked.

Magnus laughed, still catching his breath, and dropped down beside him.