The day at the office dragged on as usual, monotonous, with overly bright overhead lights, the clatter of keyboards, and the smell of coffee that had long since lost its kick. I sat at my desk, staring at the screen, pretending to be busy, though in reality I was counting down the seconds until the end of my shift. I felt like my body was falling asleep faster than my mind. Routine had a way of killing even my libido… and in my case, that was quite an achievement.
My phone vibrated. One short buzz, the kind I usually ignore. But this time I saw a name that made me look up immediately: Will. The most handsome guy in the entire office. The kind you pass in the kitchen and pretend not to look at his biceps, even though that’s exactly what you’re doing. Always talking about girls, like most of the guys here. And when he smiles, you suddenly feel like someone rewrote your entire day.
I opened the message.
"I'm bored."
It washed over me like a gentle current. Not erotic yet. But promising. Before I could reply, a second message appeared.
This time, a photo.
Not just any photo.
On the screen, I saw a cock. Huge. Thick. Heavy. The kind that looked like it belonged in a professional porn video, not something that actually exists in an office bathroom. He was holding it in his hand, standing in the bathroom, relaxed, confident. It was only half hard, but even like that it looked like a weapon of mass destruction
My heart clenched beneath my ribs, then raced so fast I had to pretend to adjust my chair so no one would notice I was losing control of my breathing.
For a moment, I thought it was a joke. Photoshop. Or one of those internet photos guys send "for laughs" to test a reaction. But Will? Will never played at cheap provocation. He even joked in a way that made people feel like they were being watched. As if there was more to him than he wanted to show.
And yet, this photo looked… too good. Too perfect.
My fingers started to shake before I even typed anything. And maybe that's why I replied:
"Is this fake?"
But before the screen had a chance to dim, I saw a third message.
Short. Sharp.
"No."
Another vibration. A sound that felt like the start of trouble or a very good day.
Then I wrote:
"Show me live."
I don't know which of us was more surprised by my directness.
But the reply came immediately.
"Bathroom. Now."
And then everything, absolutely everything, in the boring office ceased to exist except for one goal.
When I got up from my desk, I felt that familiar, electric tension, the kind that grabs you right below the breastbone and pushes you to do something you normally wouldn't do. I pretended to be calm, though every step felt like a pulse. I looked around. No one even looked up. Perfect. The office was going about its boring business, and I was slipping right out of it, as if an impulse were passing through me that they couldn't see.
The phone in my hand still glowed with the last message from Will:
"Bathroom. Now."
As I walked through the open office space, one thought kept repeating in my head: if this is a joke, it's the best joke anyone's ever played on me. And if not… if he's really standing there with that massive cock I saw in the photo… I'll be alone with him in a moment. In silence. In a place where the echo has its own breath.
The door to the men's restroom was slightly ajar. I pushed it open slowly. And then I saw him.
Will was leaning against the sink, one leg slightly bent, as if he were posing just for me. His shirt was unbuttoned two buttons further than usual, the sleeves rolled up so they revealed his forearms, taut, veins clearly visible, as if he'd deliberately wanted to show them off. He looked… different than he did in the office. Too confident. Too aware of his body. Too ready.
When the door closed behind me, he looked at me like someone who had been waiting for confirmation.
"You came," he said quietly, with that half-smile that could be both a challenge and a promise.
"I wanted proof," I replied in a tone as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, though my heart was pounding like crazy.
Will slowly stepped away from the sink. He wasn't in a hurry. Every movement was controlled, precise, confident. As if he knew I was supposed to watch. As if he were doing it just for me.
"Proof?" he repeated. "All right."
He took a step toward me. I could smell his cologne, warm, heavy, expensive, completely out of place in an ordinary office. He stopped half a meter in front of me. So close I could hear his breathing.
He raised an eyebrow slightly. Gently, provocatively.
Then he reached for his belt.
The metal buckle clicked louder than it should have in the silence of the bathroom. He lowered his gaze to my lips, then back to my eyes, asking without words if I still wanted to see this.
"So you think it's fake," he muttered, "I'll prove you wrong."
Slowly, as if it were a ceremony, he unbuckled his belt, then undid the button.
"Are you ready?" he asked in a low voice.
It sounded more like a statement than a question.
He came so close to me that I could feel the warmth of his body. His hands fell onto the belt he'd loosened earlier. Slowly, as if he wanted to force me to watch without blinking, he unzipped his pants. The sound was almost obscene, sharp, distinct, louder than it should have been in a bathroom where everything echoes.
And then he slid his hand under the fabric.
He looked me in the eyes. He didn't take his eyes off me for a moment. It was a signal I couldn't ignore; he knew I was supposed to watch. He knew that's what I wanted.
He pulled it out slowly.
First, the heavy base. Then the thick shaft, a vein running its entire length like a boundary I hadn't yet touched. The head full, perfectly tight. He was only half hard, but it looked as if a single movement, a single glance, would be enough to make it stand fully erect.
And then… he did something I didn't expect from him.
He took it in his hand and moved it slightly. Not to satisfy himself, he did it to show me the weight. The muscles in his arm tensed ever so slightly, as if the cock really weighed more than it should.
"You wanted proof," he said calmly. "This is proof."
I took a step toward him. He didn't ask me to. He didn't have to.
I wanted to see it up close.
It was so big that for a split second I really didn't know if anyone could mistake it for a fake. But it was real; I could feel it in the way it pulsed with every movement Will made. In the way his breathing quickened so subtly that only someone really paying attention could notice it.
"Touch it," he said. "So you have no doubts."
It didn't sound like a request.
It was an offer that made no sense to refuse.
I reached out and took him at the base. He was hot. Really hot. As if his body was reacting faster than his mind. At my touch, he immediately hardened further, as if he'd been waiting for just that.
Will hissed softly, surprised, uncontrollably.
"Well, I'll be..." he muttered. "That kind of touch right away?"
I smiled slightly.
Yes, I knew what I was doing.
I ran my thumb along the underside, just below the head. His hips twitched, so gently he probably didn't even notice it himself. That was the moment I felt I was starting to take control of the situation. And that he was letting me.
He lifted his chin, staring at the ceiling for a second, as if that would help him maintain control.
But control was already mine.
"Matt..." he said quietly. "I think you know what you're doing."
And I just tightened my fingers tighter, feeling his cock harden in an instant into a full, heavy erection.
And then I knew one thing:
in a moment, I'd be on my knees.
And he wants this more than he can admit.
His cock throbbed in my hand, getting harder and heavier, as if the very fact that I was touching him was something he couldn't stop. And I... I just watched it grow. How the vein on the shaft tightened. How the head became fuller, darker, more swollen. He was reacting to me faster than I expected. And that's what sent a shiver of satisfaction through me.
He sucked in a breath when I ran my thumb along the underside, just below the crown of the head.
"Fuck, Matt..." he let slip in a low voice.
He wasn't looking at the ceiling anymore. He was looking at me. At my expression, my hands, my focus. And that look said it all: shock, excitement, provocation, a challenge. As if he'd suddenly realized he wasn't in control of the situation the way he thought he was.
And he wasn't going to take control.
He wanted to see what I would do next.
His hips twitched as I ran my hand along its entire length, slowly, wrapping my fingers as tightly as I like to start. It was truly massive, so thick that my hand barely closed around the shaft. I felt every bulge, every tension beneath my fingertips. Will's body told me everything he didn't say out loud.
"More..." he said involuntarily, as if his throat had made the decision for him.
I looked up at him. He stood with his lips slightly parted, his abdominal muscles tense, his breathing shallower.
This was the moment when I usually take the initiative, when the other guy starts reacting harder, faster, than he planned.
And that's exactly why I did what came naturally.
I slid my hand off his cock and slowly… very slowly… dropped to my knees.
Will froze. Literally. As if his body wasn't prepared for the sight of me, kneeling before him in the office bathroom, my mouth so close to his cock that if I leaned in just a centimeter, he'd feel my breath on his head.
I looked up at him.
That angle always worked on guys, the sight of my face right next to their hard cock, the knowledge that in a second they could feel my lips. Will was no exception. His stomach rose as he took a deeper breath. He rested his hand lightly on the sink, as if he needed stability.
"Matt..." he croaked. "I didn't know it... would look like this."
I smiled ever so slightly.
"What was it supposed to look like?" I asked, not taking my eyes off his hard, throbbing cock.
He didn't answer. But his body answered for him; his cock twitched slightly, so hard that the skin stretched taut along its entire length. I touched it with my fingertips. Gently. Lightly enough for him to feel the absence, not the fulfillment.
I slid my hand onto his hip, pulling him a little closer. I was already positioned so that he only had to move an inch, and his head would touch my lips.
Will swallowed.
And then, at that exact second, just as I was about to open my mouth, to feel him, to let him in…
Someone turned the doorknob.
The door began to open.
They swung open wider than anyone would normally open an office bathroom door. I was still on my knees. Will stood over me, hard, tense, his breath caught right where my lips were about to touch him. It all lasted maybe half a second, but that half-second cut through the air like a knife.
And then I saw him.
Cody.
Tall, shoulders like he'd been to the gym, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, as if he'd just come back from some argument or meeting that pissed him off. At first, he looked surprised. But that expression vanished faster than I could interpret it.
Instead, something else appeared.
Something sharper.
Something that sounded like, "I can't believe this is happening to me."
He stopped in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his eyes sweeping over me, kneeling there. Over the hand I still had on Will's hip. Over Will's cock, hard, heavy, throbbing literally inches from my mouth. And then they returned to my face.
The silence was so thick I could feel its weight on the back of my neck.
Will flinched. His body, just a moment ago confident and taut with desire, suddenly went rigid, as if he didn't know whether he should shield himself from me, from Cody, or maybe… let this go even further.
But I didn't move an inch.
I was still kneeling.
I was still holding his hip.
I still knew I was at the center of something that was about to change the dynamic between the three of us.
Cody took a step inside, slowly, as if he didn't want to but had to. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and it was that sound that made Will swallow hard, his cock throbbing even harder in its exposed vulnerability.
"What the fuck... are you guys doing?" Cody finally asked.
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