There’s a certain kind of man that makes everyone in the room shut up without saying a word. That’s Grant Whitaker.
Senior VP in our firm. Early 40s. Always clean-shaven, always composed, the kind of guy who could wear the same navy suit five days in a row and still look like a god. Tall, broad-chested, tie always cinched tight like it was part of his body. He never raised his voice in meetings, never cracked a joke in group chat, but everyone still listened when he spoke. That’s power. Real, quiet, grown-man power. The kind that makes junior analysts straighten their backs and check their spelling before hitting send.
He’s not friendly, not cold either. He just… exists above the fray. No banter, no locker-room talk. Nothing even remotely homoerotic. He’s the type that makes you stand straighter when you’re around him. That said, I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t looked. Not just because he’s hot, which he is. Not just because of the way his tailored pants hug his glutes like they were poured on. But because there’s something about restraint. When a man looks like that and doesn’t give anything away, it makes you want to be the one to break him.
And yeah, he’s married. Thick silver band on his left hand. I don’t know shit about his home life, and I never cared to. But I’d be lying again if I told you I hadn’t thought about it. What it’d be like to unzip that belt. To see if he’s the same calm, composed man with a cock in his mouth. Or bent over a desk.
I never planned to find out. Not really.
That changed the weekend after Bryce.
It was Monday, around 7 PM. Most of the office had cleared out. I stayed late because I was behind on a few deliverables for our hedge fund book and yeah, maybe because part of me didn’t want to go home just yet. The floor was quiet. Just the hum of monitors and the occasional email ping. I stretched out at my desk, cracked my neck, and figured I’d take a piss before powering through the rest.
Men’s room on our floor is always freezing. Tiles cold under dress shoes, bright-ass lighting. I walked in, unzipped, and stepped up to the second urinal. A second later, the door creaked open again. I didn’t have to look; I recognized his gait. Grant. Of course. He stepped up to the one right next to mine, despite there being three others open.
That alone made me pause. He never does that. The man follows the unspoken rules of corporate urinal etiquette like scripture.
But here he was. Right next to me.
Neither of us said anything at first. I kept my eyes forward. Heard his fly unzip. Silence.
Then ... and I swear I’m not making this up; I heard it. A moan. Not a porn-style grunt. Just a soft, involuntary noise as he started to piss. One of those low exhales that feels almost too intimate for a man like him. I thought maybe I imagined it, until I turned just slightly and caught him glancing at me.
Quick. Controlled. But it was there.
He didn’t look away. Just kept pissing.
I zipped up, stepped back, and hit the sink. When I turned toward the mirror, he was beside me again. Washing his hands like nothing happened. Water running hot.
Then he looked at me in the mirror and said, real calm, like he was talking about a trade that went bad. “I saw the footage, Dan.”
He dried his hands slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Facilities flagged the CCTV footage,” he said. “Apparently some poor guy in Ops was reviewing the weekend HVAC logs and saw movement after hours. Thought someone broke in. Pulled the camera feed, found you… working late with Bryce.”
My stomach dipped.
Of course. Friday night. Bryce and I were supposed to head out for drinks, but we ended up alone in the office, half-drunk, half-joking, and then I was on my knees, tying my shoes, and his cock was right there in my face. I dared him to whip it out. He did. And I sucked him off. Right there. On camera, apparently.
I opened my mouth; maybe to deny it, maybe to joke but he held up a hand. “You swallow cock like you’ve done it before.”
Just like that. Calm as ever.
I blinked. “Look....”
But he kept going. “Impressive, really. Not what I expected from you. But I respect a man who knows how to keep his team happy.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t. I just stood there while he folded the paper towel in half and tossed it in the bin.
He stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough to let me feel it.
“You’ve got initiative, Dan. That’s valuable here. Especially at your level.” He said it like we were talking about deal flow, not a secret office blowjob I gave a teammate. “Swing by my office before you log out. ”
And then he left. Just walked out, crisp and clean and unbothered. I stood there another full minute, staring at the mirror, trying to get the color back in my face.
My hands were shaking. My cock? Semi-hard. So yeah. That’s how it started.
Not with a look. Not with a joke. Not with a slow burn or flirtation.
It started at the urinal. With a moan. With a calm, quiet voice saying, I saw the footage, Dan.
And I didn’t know what the hell to expect next.
But I was already walking toward his office.
Grant's office door was still half-shut when I got there.
I knocked once. He didn’t even glance up. Just said, “Come in.”
Grant sat behind his desk like nothing had changed, tie still tight, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, two monitors glowing blue light across his chest. But everything had changed. The moment in the men’s room had reset the rules.
He told me to sit. I dropped into the chair across from him, trying to play it cool. My pulse was already thumping in my ears.
He leaned back slightly. Not relaxed. Just observant. Eyes on mine.
“So,” he said. “Friday night. You and Bryce.”
My throat tightened. “Sir..look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t..”
“I’m not upset,” he said, cutting me off.
Then: “I’m impressed.”
That word sat between us, hot.
“I didn’t expect a guy like you to suck dick like that.”
I blinked. “Boss, it was a dare. Bryce was...”
“So he dared you, and you just did it?” His voice didn’t change. Same tone he used in strategy reviews.
I fumbled. “I… yeah. I mean…”
He tilted his head. “So what if I dared you to do it again?”
I froze. My legs tightened. My cock twitched under the desk.
“Sir—uh…”
I tried to sound flustered. Tried to act like I hadn’t spent half my late nights in this building imagining something like this. But my eyes dropped anyway. Down to his belt. That sharp center line of his trousers. The way he sat, legs slightly spread, body sure of itself.
He caught the glance. “You wanna see it?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
“Come here.”
I stood up slowly. My throat was dry. My body already reacting.
“On your knees.”
I lowered myself to the floor, one hand bracing on the edge of his desk. His chair creaked a little as he shifted, undoing his belt in one slow, deliberate motion. I watched every move.
The sound of the buckle. The soft slide of leather. Then his zipper.
He pushed his trousers down just enough to reveal black briefs, tight across his thighs. His cock pressed against the fabric. Thick, curved, already half hard. Bigger than Bryce’s. No question.
Then he pulled his underwear down. And it dropped.
Heavy. Full. A clean curve, cut and flushed, the head already glossy. A faint vein ran along the shaft. I swallowed hard, the scent of him rising..clean sweat and skin and cologne clinging to his inner thighs.
He didn’t say anything. Just leaned back and let me stare.
I wrapped my hand around the base. Thick. Warm. Veiny.
Then I leaned in.
The first kiss to the head was light. A test. My lips parted, tongue flicking over the slit. He didn’t move, but I felt the tension ripple through his thigh.
“Go on,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth and sank down. Slowly. Felt the stretch. The heat.
He was thick. The kind of thick that fills your mouth and sits heavy on your tongue. I sucked slow, pulling back just enough to swirl my tongue around the head before sinking down again, deeper this time.
He let out a quiet grunt. Almost a breath. Barely there, but I caught it.
I started bobbing. Building a rhythm. Using one hand to stroke what I couldn’t reach, spit starting to pool and slide down my fist. It got louder fast...wet, sticky, hot.
His fingers brushed the back of my head. Then pressed, gently.
“Messy little fucker,” he muttered.
I moaned around his cock, vibrating my throat.
“Look at you,” he added. “Suits and spreadsheets by day, choking on dick by night.”
I gagged slightly, pulled off, eyes watering, a thin string of saliva still connecting us.
He smirked. “That too much?”
I grinned. Wiped my chin. “Not even close.”
Then I went back down.
This time I used both hands...one stroking the base, the other massaging his balls as I sucked. He spread his legs wider, like he was offering it all to me now.
“Fuck, Dan…”
His voice cracked slightly.
“You suck cock better than my last assistant ran numbers.”
I didn’t answer. My mouth was full.
I sank deeper, feeling him hit the back of my throat. I breathed through my nose, swallowing around him, spit bubbling at the corners of my lips. His hand tightened, holding me there for a second. Not hard. Just firm. Controlling.
When I pulled back, gasping, he was fully hard. Thick, flushed, dripping from the head. I pumped him a few times with my hand, spit making everything slick. Then I opened my mouth again, wider, and took him in fast.
That made him groan. Loud this time.
“Jesus, Dan. Don’t stop.”
I didn’t.
My head bobbed. My jaw ached. Spit was everywhere...on my lips, his thighs, my chin. I kept going. Kept sucking. Faster now. More pressure.
He tilted his head back, eyes closed. Hand on my head.
“Keep this up,” he panted, “and I might give you bigger projects to work with.”
I moaned in response, the vibration making him jolt slightly.
“Shit...”
I felt it before he said anything.
The twitch. The shift in his hips. The grip tightening on my head.
“I’m gonna..fuck—”
I didn’t pull away. I braced myself. Took a breath through my nose and sucked harder, deeper, letting his cock fill my throat just as he came.
He groaned...loud, sharp. His thighs tensed. His hips flexed once, twice, as the heat of him spilled down my throat.
I swallowed. And kept swallowing. It was a lot. Hot. Salty. Clean.
He kept his hand on my head the whole time. Not pushing anymore. Just holding. Breathing heavy. Watching. When he was done, I pulled off slowly. Let his cock slide from my lips. My mouth hung open for a second, spit and cum mixing on my tongue. I licked my lips.
He just stared.
His chest rose and fell. Tie still perfectly in place. Not a single strand of hair out of place.
“Damn,” he said softly. “You really do know how to finish what you start.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, still on my knees.
He tucked himself back into his briefs. Buckled his belt. Like nothing had happened.
I stood up.
He adjusted his shirt cuffs.
Then, without looking at me, said, “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
I opened my mouth to speak.
He glanced at me. “Dismissed.”
So I left.
And I didn’t sleep that night. Not because I was nervous. But because I couldn’t stop thinking about how composed he stayed, right up until the moment he gave in.
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