Ups and Downs

Meeting the Boss

With the tour of the interior of the house concluded, Rafael led me through the sliding glass doors in the family room to the extensive patio, where we encountered many young men, including the six students who had just left the library. Most were naked, and the rest were very skimpily dressed in sexy swimsuits or underwear. One guy sat on the edge of the pool as another guy standing in the pool gave him a blow job, a couple made out in a canopied lounge bed, three guys took turns boning another guy on the putting green, and others romped in the pool or spa.

“None of these guys is a full-time staffer,” commented Rafael, “but most of them have worked for us on an as-needed basis. Mr. Block does lots of entertaining, so we often need extra guys to serve as parking valets, waiters, bus boys, and whatever, and the boss lets them enjoy the place when he doesn’t have anything else going on.” The thought that I might be seeing a lot of these sexy young men definitely increased my determination to make a good impression on Mr. Block in my interview later in the afternoon.

In addition to the main house, the property included two guest houses, a pool house, a boat house, a barn, and an RV garage. “The previous owner raised horses,” explained Rafael, “something fairly common in Rancho Santa Fe. When Mr. Block bought the property, he decided not to have horses, but he kept the barn, and sometimes guys use it as a kind of escape haven, and sometimes we even set up cots in here when we have a horde of overnight guests.”

Like everything else, the RV garage was huge, and it needed to be to house the 40-foot class A RV parked there. “Mr. Block doesn’t have a lot of time for camping,” said Rafael, “but he does enjoy going to gay outings from time to time. When he’s not using it, staff members are allowed to take it out for a weekend or a vacation. We also use it, like the barn, for extra company.”

When Rafael led me through a door on the opposite side of the RV bay, I was surprised to find a second bay. It wasn’t used for RV parking, though. It had been converted into a fully equipped gym with the most up-to-date LifeFitness equipment as well as free weights and benches. “The gym is available to employees to use any time we wish,” noted Rafael, “and Mr. Block not only encourages us to use it; he expects us to use it. He wants us to keep in shape.”

Another door led to a locker room and a shower stall large enough for six people at once. The shower room was not empty when we arrived, though. A hulk of a man was bent over a little guy half his size, screwing him to the wall. The big guy had to have been a bodybuilder because he had muscles on top of muscles, which flexed with every lunge of his pelvis.

I don’t know if the two guys didn’t see us or just didn’t care that we were watching them, but they never paused for even a second. “Unh, unh, unh,” grunted the colossus with the big stick. “Oh, fuck, man! Fuck my ass! Ah, ah, ah!” begged the little guy.

“That’s Hank,” Rafael whispered to me. “He comes in three days a week to work with us on physical training, and he gives massages too,” he grinned, “the regular kind and the ‘special’ kind,” Raphael emphasized with air quotes.

“Does he—”

“Yeah, he’s versatile,” Rafael anticipated my question. “He’ll play the pitcher or the catcher.”

“Oh fuck!” yelled the little guy. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Unh, unh, unh,” grunted the giant, obviously too overcome with his own orgasm to verbalize his pleasure.

“Oh shit!” gasped the little man as he collapsed onto the wet floor, water spraying all over him and washing his ejected seed down the drain. But as he fell, he turned so as to face us and shocked us when he yelled, “Mile High!” And before I knew it, he was back on his feet and soaking me with the water on his naked body as he embraced me enthusiastically.

“I take it you have met Freddie,” grinned Rafael.

I didn’t know his name when he rode my cock in the lavatory of the airplane that bought me to San Diego, but I did recognize the name from the card he had handed me as we deplaned. “I should have known you were headed here,” he said, “since you were sitting next to Mr. Woody on the plane.”

“Wh…what are you doing here, Freddie? I mean…I saw what you were doing, but…”

“Oh, you are so funny,” Freddie giggled, obviously tickled by my awkwardness. “Handsome, hung, and funny,” he added. “Excellent combination.”

“Any of us who has flown in or out of San Diego,” explained Rafael, “has had the pleasure of Freddie’s company, so Woody lets him come over whenever he’s in town.”

“And this is Hank,” Rafael hastily added as the hulk strode toward us, his dick still hard as a rock and dripping cum.

The mammoth specimen held out his hand, and his grip was definitely firm, but he spared me the strength that it obviously carried. At the same time, he latched onto my shoulder with his other hand and pulled me into a bear hug…a very wet bear hug. And I could feel his stiff rod poking me in my navel. (Yes, he was that much taller than I am.) It was enough to get my own member stirring.

“He’s got a big one too,” gloated Freddie, squeezing my growing cock through my shorts, and before I knew it, he had pulled my shorts down to expose my embarrassment.

“Not bad, fella,” glowed Hank, grabbing my dick and stroking it to its full dimensions. And before I knew it, he knelt down and swallowed it whole while Freddie slid between my legs to lick my balls. Not to be left out, Rafael repositioned himself to suck on Freddie’s dick while working his own cock vigorously.

After several minutes of this foreplay, Hank announced, “I think you’re ready to fuck me, stud.”

“Got any lube?” I asked. Hank shook his head no, but Rafael mumbled as best he could with Freddie’s dick in his mouth, “I can fix that,” and no sooner had the words fumbled out of his mouth when Freddie filled the oral receptacle with his batter. Rather than swallowing the pudding, though, Rafael swung around, bent over, and let the goop dribble down onto Hank’s receptive ass.

Then, as Freddie rose to shovel his own sperm-lube into Hank’s thirsty hole, Rafael shot his own wad, adding to the creamy white concoction streaming down Hank’s crack. “He’s all yours, dude,” Rafael proclaimed.

My dick, now stiff as a board, wasted no time attacking the freshly lubed tunnel, but no matter how hard or fast I pounded, Hank kept begging me for more. “Fuck me, stud. Fuck me balls deep.” And I was happy to oblige.

Rafael and Freddie looking on joined the egging. “Fuck him, Joe. Fuck the goddam shit out of him. Yeah, man. Pound that big ass. Drown his guts in your hot juices.”

I held out as long as I could because I knew that Hank’s prostate was glowing with the attention of my hard pole, but I could hold out just so long before my nuts forced their juices out my canon and deep into Hank’s innards.

Hank orgasmed at the same time. Even though he had just emptied his balls into Freddie’s ass a few minutes before, he shot blast after blast onto the floor, where Freddie lapped it up. Meanwhile, when I pulled out of Hank’s ass, Rafael licked the residue off my triumphant dick and then slurped up the stream flowing out of Hank’s hole.

Freddie and Rafael swapped the combined spunk back and forth before Hank and I joined them in a four-way cum feast.

Rafael suggested that we shower before heading back to the big house, but, of course, showering led to lathering each other’s backs and then our asses and then…. Well, you get the picture.

Was I worried about expending all of my “resources” before my big audition with Mr. Block? Not really. I figured that the boss would probably want my ass more than my dick, and if he did want me to top him, well, it wouldn’t be the first time I had gone multiple rounds in a single day.

Back in my room, freshly showered, I changed into a nice pair of slacks, a dress shirt, and a navy blue blazer that I found hanging in my closet. Interestingly, they all fit perfectly—just my size—but I still worried about the things I had left behind in my car in Atlanta. Would I ever see them again?

Just as I finished getting dressed, Ron poked his head through the doorway and announced, “You’re up, buddy. The boss will see you now.” Ron escorted me down the stairs and back to Mr. Block’s office. As we reached the hand-carved double-doors, Ron instructed, “Wait here. Woody will come and get you when they’re ready.”

I was nervous as hell, but I tried not to show it. I had to restrain myself from pacing a rut into the hardwood floor. Suddenly, the doors burst open, and a stranger rushed out, heading for the exit asserting, “I’ll take care of it, Art.” He darted so quickly that I didn’t get a good look at him, but if I had to describe him, I’d say he looked a bit like George Clooney.

“Come in,” said Woody, directing me into the stately office.

“Welcome, Joe. It’s nice to meet you,” said the distinguished-looking gentleman in the Armani  suit as he held out his hand to shake mine. His Chinese mulberry silk tie probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. “Have a seat,” he said, directing me to one of the high-back leather chairs beside his ornate desk.

He was hardly a hunk, though he looked pretty damn good for a man in his mid fifties, or so I estimated. Traces of silver at his temples accentuated his brown hair and lively brown eyes. Right away, I knew that I would have no reservations about hopping into bed with this man, and when Woody excused himself from the room, I knew that this opportunity was coming.

After the customary “how was your trip?” and “is your room comfortable?” and similar small talk, he asked me a few questions about my background even though I knew that Woody had already told him all about me. Much to my surprise, he didn’t discuss the job at all. “I’d like to have you sit next to me at dinner tonight so that I can get to know you a little better,” he said. “That OK with you, Joe?” I get it. You’re just sizing me up to see if you want to take me to your bed after dinner. Maybe I should have worn a tight-fitting shirt without the sports coat so you could see how buff I am.

“Of course,” I played along with a smile. “I’d be honored.”

And without warning, Woody suddenly re-appeared to escort me out of the office. “Dinner is at six.” It was more of a command than an invitation. “Don’t be late.”

Kim had prepared a magnificent feast: won ton soup, baked tilapia marinated in Vietnamese nước chấm sauce on a bed of saffron rice, baby bok choy seasoned with garlic and lemon grass, and, for dessert, lime sorbet with a variety of crepes filled with fruit and cream cheese. Obviously, Kim was more than a mere cook. He was a gourmet chef.

Rather than sitting at the head of the table, Mr. Block sat in the center on one side with Woody on his left and me on his right. He was an active conversationalist, engaging everyone at the table. He asked if everyone had met me, and, of course, they had—very intimately—but no one offered the details. They didn’t have to; I’m quite sure Mr. Block knew how well we had become acquainted.

Woody had me share my experiences with football, working at the hardware store, and my plans to study business in college. “But your real love is art, isn’t it? I mean, you were going to major in business because that’s what your parents wanted, right? But if you had a choice, you would major in art.”

That line of conversation caught me off guard. In my heart, I had always felt that way, but I had never admitted it to anyone. Not knowing quite how to reply, I just shrugged it off.

“Hmm.” Mr. Block didn’t actually verbalize it, but his face and demeanor said it for him.

When dessert was served, Mr. Block excused himself and said to me, “Enjoy the rest of your meal, Joe, and come see me when you’re ready.”

“Take your time,” said Woody. “I’ll meet you in the library whenever you’re ready.”

The guys and I finished our desserts and shot the breeze for about 15 minutes. When Kim got up to clear the table, I offered to help. It was the least I could do since he had prepared such a delicious meal. Part of me was eager to get back to Mr. Block, and part of me was actually a little bit nervous, so I guess I was subconsciously procrastinating.

“Thanks for the help, Joe,” said Kim, as he gave me a little kiss, “but shouldn’t you be getting a move on?”

Conceding that Kim was right, I dragged myself back to the library, expecting to see Woody, but he was nowhere in sight. Since the door to Mr. Block’s office was open, I slinked in, but he, too, was nowhere to be seen. Then, as I wandered into the alcove, I saw that the door to his suite was open, and Mr. Block was standing in his silk robe peering through the glass door toward the pool outside, enjoying the sight of all the naked boys frolicking, no doubt. Though his back was to me, I got the sense that he was massaging an itch in his crotch.

“Oh, Joe, please come in,” he said when he heard me tapping on the door. “Woody had a sudden emergency—nothing really serious—and couldn’t be here to show you in. I’m glad you found your way. I like a man who shows initiative.” Ah, so you want me to be alpha tonight. I’m down with that.

Instead of directing me to his bed, though, he ushered me to a plush chair in the sitting area of his suite, where he continued the line of conversation we had engaged in earlier that afternoon and further at dinner.

“What’s wrong, Joe?” Ron asked as I crawled lethargically into my own bed.

“I’ve really enjoyed this day,” I confided, “but I guess I’ll be going home tomorrow.”

To be continued