He stared balefully down at his crotch. What the hell could he do?
Well, he couldn't work. There was no sense sitting there contemplating his erection.
He decided to go out for a drink. His dick refused to be subtle but he managed to hide it. He laid it straight up along his belly with the knob stuck under his belt buckle so that, although he looked as though he had gained a couple of inches on his waistline, it was not obvious that he had a hard-on.
He left the office, giving a feeble excuse to his sixty-year-old secretary.
"Certainly, Mister Morgan," she said. And she thought he wasn't that fat yesterday. I'll bet the dirty devil has his cock-head buried under his belt!
It thrilled her.
She might have been sixty and unsightly but, unknown to Morgan, she was a raving nymphomaniac whenever she was fortunate enough to lure a gentleman into her bed.
As soon as Morgan had gone, she went into his private office.
He had left his little sketches on his desk and she looked at them with glee. His tiny stick figures were fucking and sucking and buggerg and sixty-nining all over the paper.
Sixty and unsightly, Morgan's secretary dropped her drawers and gave herself a hand job in his swivel chair.
Morgan wasn't looking for a woman. He merely intended to have a drink or two hoping to submerge his passion in alcohol.
People seemed to be staring at his belt buckle. Self-conscious, he headed for the nearest bar, a low-class place called the Moonglow into which Morgan had never ventured before. But now he thought it might be wise to stop there. It was the sort of place where a hard-on, although it might be noticed would not be taken as a stigma or a symbol of depravity.
When he came to the place, he paused and looked around furtively, then he ducked quickly through the portals.
The Moonglow was worse than he had supposed it would be.
It was dark and grimy and there was sawdust on the floor. The bar ran along one wall and there were a few tables scattered along the other. An ancient jukebox burbled at the end of the long thin room.
A few men leaned on the bar and a few more slumped drunkenly at the tables.
There was a girl at the bar.
Morgan's alert dick gave a mighty lurch as if, like a periscope, it had sighted the girl and was about to launch a torpedo into her cargo hold.
Morgan bellied up to the bar, pressing his erection into the wooden front of the bar to secret it.
The bartender came down the bar and squinted suspiciously at Morgan. It was not often he had a customer who wore a three-piece suit.
Morgan ordered a drink and sipped it.
The girl came down the bar.
"Stranger here?" she asked.
"Why… yes," said Morgan. She was pretty, in a painted fashion, and he grinned at her.
"Errr… could I buy you a drink?" he asked.
"Jack! This guy wants to buy me a drink," the girl called to the bartender. "I didn't ask for it. He offered."
Jack looked suspicious but gave her a drink. "Okay, Ruby, here's your drink, but don't let me catch you bothering this gent, bumming drinks."
"Fuck off," said Ruby. She gulped down her drink and looked at her empty glass.
Morgan bought her another. "You got class," she said. "Thank you."
"Shame you got a hard-on, though."
Morgan blushed furiously. "You noticed that, did you?"
"Well, sure I noticed it. Why do you think I came down to talk to you?"
"Oh, I see."
"Yeah, ruins the cut of your pants."
Morgan finished his drink and pushed it across to be refilled. He was horny and embarrassed and bemused. But he was intrigued by Ruby. She had big, wide eyes and tousled hair and bright-red lipstick. She wore a short black skirt and a scoop-necked top and her tits thrust out like shelves.
"Looks like a nice big prick, too," she said, her eyes dropping to his crotch. "Too bad I'm faithful to my old man. I love big pricks and you sure need some pussy."
Morgan looked distraught. His pecker, sensing the near proximity of pussy, hid started to pump like a jackhammer. The fat knob was pulling his belt out and banging the buckle on the edge of the bar.
He gestured to the bartender to refill Ruby's glass, which was empty again. "That's a shame, about your old man, I mean. I rather fancy you."
Ruby, who was not accustomed to being complimented, actually blushed with pleasure. It was the first time she had blushed in ten years.
"I got an idea," she said. "I can see you got to do something about that lump in your pants, that's for sure."
"Er… yes. What do you suggest?"
"I'll suck you off," said Ruby. Morgan almost fainted. He felt as if every drop of blood in his body had rushed to his dork.
"That way, you can get your balls emptied and I won't have to cheat on my old man, I mean, sucking a guy off ain't like fucking him is it?"
"Certainly not," said Morgan. His dick was humming like a tuning fork. He thought he could hear it vibrate.
"Can we use the storeroom, Jack?" said Ruby.
Jack, who had been listening, pondered that. He stroked his big jaw.
"Well, I don't know," he said. "I don't want spunk all over the empty beer crates."
"Naw, don't worry about that," Ruby said. "He can come in my mouth and I'll swallow it. Honest. I'll swallow every drop. I won't spill any."
"Well, in that case."
"Jack," said Morgan. "Let me buy you a drink…"
Ruby took Morgan by the hand and led him down the long, narrow barroom. His cock was throbbing in front of him. Winos looked up and grinned. She took him through a door at the back and they were in the storeroom. Beer crates were stacked up along the walls and a naked light bulb hung from the ceiling on a frayed cord. Ruby turned the light on.
"I like to see what I'm eating," she said.
Morgan stood there, frozen with lust.
Ruby pulled a couple of beer crates out and sat down on them, hiking her skirt up and displaying an expanse of shapely thigh and a glimpse of red panties at the vee.
"Stand here," she said.
Morgan stood in front of her, his hands fluttering, not sure if he should touch her.
Ruby fingered the top of his zipper. She drew it down a few inches, paused, drew it down another inch. Her head was tilted as if she were peering into his opening fly, looking for the meaty delight lurking within.
His vibrant pecker would have come springing out, but the head was still lodged behind the belt buckle.
She pulled the zipper all the way down and his fly gaped open. The contours of his shaft were outlined in his white cotton under-shorts, pressing out in a fat tube.
Ruby unbuckled his belt. His fly gaped open, the edges folding back in a vee. His cock was still encased in his shorts but the knob was sticking out above them, held fast to his belly by the elastic band. His balls filled the crotch of his shorts, packing the cotton pouch full, and the iron-hard rod writhed in its white sheath.
"Nice hunk," she said.
She pursed her lips and blew a gentle stream of hot breath onto his naked cock-head.
That big wedge flared formidably.
"Gee, I'm glad I got this idea," she said. She seemed to be addressing his cock, as if it were a microphone. "I'm really gonna enjoy this."
She cupped his balls through his shorts.
"Ummm… you're loaded for bear," she said.
Her nimble tongue came out and she ran it up his cotton-clad stalk. The heat of his loins hit her like a blast furnace. Her painted face seemed to glow in the incandescence of his crotch and he wondered if that fiery heat would melt her mascara.
She drew the elastic of his shorts out.
His cock levered out at an unhindered angle.
She pulled his shorts down his thighs.
She was staring at his naked pecker and her face was taut with concentration. She licked her red lips.