Thong, Chest Feel, Executive, Van Ryn, Martini
DAVID 339
Now before we get on with our story, I should let you know that David 340 is already posted too. But it's in the Premier Animation Gallery. It'll make your hands feel all tingly. Enjoy!
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Brian Van Ryn made a face. He swallowed hard and then shrugged. "Ehhh," he muttered as if to convey a sense of surprised, yet underwhelming satisfaction. And then, as the aftertaste mellowed, he said, "Yuck,". Imported Spanish olives stuffed with blue cheese. What a fad. Ten years from now, people will laugh, he thought. He took the frosty pitcher and poured himself a sample of its contents. He placed one large green olive, impaled on a toothpick, and swirled it in the martini and then took a sip. "Yuck," he said. Too much vermouth. He upended the bottle of Bombay Sapphire Gin and poured the contents into the pitcher, which was by now just over half full. He poured another sample. Too much gin. He tilted the bottle of vermouth over the pitcher and let a few splashes flow, and put the bottle down. Another sample followed, which was followed by another "Yuck". He stepped over to the huge, glittering bar that occupied an entire alcove of his office, and brought back another bottle of gin.
Splash, splash, splash....................and one for good measure.........splash. And one to make sure: splash. And one just in case: splash.
Another quick torrent of vermouth followed, and then a taste, This time there was no "Yuck" but instead, a face. He smacked his lips; not quite there yet, but It was close though. Half the bottle of gin went into the pitcher, followed by a splash more of vermouth...then a sip, and then a satisfied "Ahhhhhh." He took another sip and looked around his sumptuous office. Eight golden Persian rugs, imported from Iran, lined the floor with just enough space between them to showcase the walnut floor. The walls were softly glowing curtains of rich, burnished mahogany. In the carpetless lounge area, cream colored marble swept across the floor space and the ivory colored furnishings were adorned with burled walnut from France and Italian gold. Artwork was everywhere, mostly from Asia; among them six gilded four foot high statues of Thai dancers, a nine foot long ivory dragon from China that he'd had his daddy smuggle into the States, and his favorite...an eight foot high temple guardian from Japan, with a visciously demonic face.
Yes, daddy treated him well. And in turn, Brian treated daddy well by not telling the world that Vincent Van Ryn, the world's beloved multi-millionaire famous for his ultra-conservative views, had more mistresses than he could remember. For his silence, Brian got the penthouse office, a vice-presidency within the company, and anything his little heart desired. Cars, clothes, boys, parties...anything. All he had to do was whine.
But there was one thing that Daddy couldn't buy...wouldn't dare try to buy. Something utterly one of a kind...spectacular, breath-taking, stupefyingly beautiful...something in which every element of physical beauty not only came together like a cosmic confluence of stars, but was taken to the most elegant of extremes.
Someone........whose aquamarine eyes outshined Brian's diamond and sapphire cufflinks; who wore a god-like frame that made custom made Italian silk suits look silly; whose surprising disdain for the spotlight brought him attention that all the money in the world could not buy; Time and time again, Brian had called David to his office. Being a new junior executive, it was difficult to say no to the son of the president of the company. But from the start, Brian's crises were mocking and vindictive. He asked David to open a jar. Then next time he asked David to move a couch. Last time, it had been to change a light bulb.
"Because you're so tall!" Brian had said.
"Well, even I can't reach that one!" David said.
"You can stand on the desk," Brian suggested.
David sighed. "Mr. Van Ryn--"
"Oh posh!" said Brian. "Mr. Van Ryn's my dad. Call me Brian. We're friends aren't we?"
"Uh...sure. Uh...Mr. Van Ryn, now I know you're expressing a good deal of interest in having me come up here like this, but--"
"Take off your shirt," Brian said.
"Huh?"
"Take off your shirt. You don't want it to get all dirty."
"But I'm just gonna change a light bulb."
"Still, I want you to be comfortable. Kick your shoes off too if you like." Brian eased his way towards David. "That shirt is an engineering marvel." He stood close to David and bent close to examine David's shoulder, which was at Brian's eye level. "That's a very interesting weave. Is that cotton?"
"Yes,"
Brian ran his hand up and down the front of David's shirt. "It's kind of silky. What kind of cotton?"
David stood still, feeling clumsy and awkward as Brian's hand swept slowly back and forth across his chest. "It's uh...c-cotton. A special cotton. It's light--"
"I've noticed.."
"And it's...it's stretchy. I mean, it stretches Because I--"
Brian was at David's back now, smoothing out the fabric across the immense width of David's shoulders. "Must be hard finding clothes that fit, huh?"
"Yeah. Mr. Van Ryn?"
"Even your pants..." Brian slid his fingers down the back of David's pants and tugged on the waistband. "The waist is probably no problem, but this butt! He slapped David's butt lightly and then slid his hand down to caress the underside of the big man's rump.
"Hey!" David turned to face Brian.
Brian feigned surprise. "Just a minute!" Brian said, holding his hands up.
"Look!"
"Just a minute big guy! Hold on!"
"I don't care who you are! And I don't know why you'd think that I'd put up--"
Brian chuckled. "Wait! Wait! Hold on! You got it all wrong!"
"--with behavior like that! You want something from me, you ask! And be prepared for me to say no!"
Brian covered his eyes momentarily, all the while chuckling. "Whoa! Whoa big fella! It was just a friendly man to man pat! And then I noticed how beautiful your shoes are and my arm just kind of relaxed. I swear. Word of honor. Believe me."
David just glared at him.
"Now," Brian continued, "if I was gonna cop a feel, believe you me, you would have known! I just admire a man who dresses well, as you've probably noticed by looking at me. So I'm just saying that it's really....great!....that someone of your size takes the extra effort to, you know, look sharp."
David held up a finger in warning. "If--"
"Who's your tailor?"
"I gotta say--"
"Who's your tailor?"
"Lemme just say--"
"'Cause he is a miracle worker. You look incredible. Gee, I'm sorry if I offended you. I can see how I might have come across."
"Let me make one thing clear, Mr. Van Ryn!"
"Brian."
"What?"
"Brian. Call me Brian."
David sighed. "I don't want to call you Brian."
"Aw you're blowing this thing all out of proportion. I was hoping we could hit a store or two together. You know, just us swells...who appreciate craftsmanship and style. Who's your tailor, huh? I'd like to meet him. I'd kill for a couple of shirts made of this fabric. It's like white silk." Brian moved his fingertips up and down David's sleeve. "It fits you like a glove!"
"I'm glad you like it," David said brusquely.
"And your pants. Now hold on...I'm about to do something, but I don't want you to take it the wrong way, okay? I just want to put it out there in the open, which brings me to my next subject. I can't help but notice that...you know...that you're a big guy...everywhere. Did they make...some kind of, you know....special...."pouch" down here?" He bent slightly to study the front of David's pants. Slowly, his hand slipped between David's crotch. "This is not copping a feel, just so you know. I'm just trying to see if I might want--"
David took a step backwards. "WHERE is the light bulb?!"
"Okay, wait!"
"This is the LAST time I'm coming up here!"
"Wait, wait! No, no...don't get upset! You've got this totally--"
"Next time you want me, it better be business related!"
"--messed up. Here...sit down. Let me fix you a drink."
"I don't want a drink! Where's your damn light bulb?"
Brian's smile vanished in an instant. "Aww. Now was that necessary?"
"Was what nec--"
"I mean, after all, it's just a light bulb. There's no cause for profanity."
David said nothing. His mouth opened, but he was baffled. No words came out.
Brian sighed. "Fine." He threw up his hands. "Fine. It's...you know...my fault. Okay. All I did was tug on the waist band of your pants...from the back, not the front...and admire the fit of your shirt, and now I'm Lester the Molester. Fine."
"It's not that. It's just that--"
"I guess I forgot that you must get that all the time. People putting their hands on you like you were public property. I forgot. What was I thinking? Boy, am I a jerk or what? OH! And then to be the boss's son too!" Brian laughed out loud.
David scowled. "I hope you don't think I'm buying any of this."
Brian's laughter faded to a smile, and then to nothing and then to forlorn resignation. Quietly, he said: "Hey man...I was just trying to be friendly. You know?" He turned, and shuffled over to the cocktail table near his desk, all the while hanging his head and pouting. "At least I tried," he murmured to himself.
A pang of guilt sliced quick and clean through David's heart. "Well, now.....wait a minute there Mr. Van Ryn. Well, naturally when you go around feeling guys'--"
"It's hard for me to make friends."
"What?"
"It always has been. I guess...I guess I just go about it too strong. I don't know how to be....I don't know how to...."
"Well now...there's, there's nothing wrong with--"
"It's just that, you know. I saw you, and like everybody else I just went "wow". And I thought wouldn't it be great if he was my friend? I mean, I know I'm nothing special to look at, but--"
"Aww, now don't say that."
"--I've had a chance to do a lot of traveling, and so have you. And I just thought we could at least be friends. But then you probably have more friends than you know what to do with."
David struggled to find words.
"I know I could have called maintenance to fix all those things." He turned away from David to top off his martini. "I just couldn't think of any other way to break the ice. I mean, when would we have ever come in contact with each other?"
David's voice was low and gentle. "You could have just asked me. I don't bite." He took a careful step toward Brian....
...who was smiling the most wicked smile above the rim of his martini. Time for the icing on the cake, he thought. He turned to David. "Would you please have a seat and have a drink while I move the desk?"
"Oh." David cracked a smile. "I'll move the desk. Don't you worry about that."
Brian smiled weakly. "Oh...just so you know," he looked up at the light fixture, "It really did go out. I just thought it was a good opportunity to ask you up."
David leaned low against the desk and pushed. The huge desk slid across the Persian rug. What would have taken four men to do was done in a matter of seconds. And from Brian's vantage point, no four men in the world would have been as spectacular as this one as he strained and flexed. Those pants gripped that rump and left nothing to the imagination. That thin film of cotton that was his shirt adhered itself to every curve...his chest, his biceps, his shoulders. It was absolutely mesmerizing to catch a silhouette of flesh, or to discern the faintest of details...the way his nipples stood out, the darkness of his chest hair, the rippling abdominal muscles. And when he stood on the desk, the specially shaped front of his pants were right at eye level.
"Oh!" said Bryan. "I'll get the light bulb." He went to a closet and came back with a new bulb. He stood with his face two feet away from that bulging zipper and those titanic thighs that strained the fabric of the pants, and he handed the bulb up to David.
"Now, I don't mean to sound abrupt or anything, " David began.
All right, Howdy Doody, thought Brian.
"But I meant what I said about this being the last time I'm coming up here."
Until next time.
"I mean it Mr. Van Ryn. Next time you call me, I'm sending maintenance. Now I don't mean any disrespect..."
Neither do I. But I own you. You just don't know it yet. The martini's had begun their warm glow. That always reminded Brian that moderation was for the little people. He could have anything he wanted. For instance, he could grab that huge, protruding mass of man flesh and bite down on the back of David's thigh at the same time....like this.
• • • • •
"MR. VAN RYN!!!!!"
Brian was jolted out of his reverie.
"MR. VAN RYN!!!"
A huge fist pounded at the door. Brian sauntered across the Persian rugs and punched in the code to release the steel bolts. There was a loud, heavy click, and then Brian swung the door open. "Howdy!"
David was seething. His shirt was damp. His hair was slightly disheveled.
Brian smiled. "Do come in."
"Where is it!" he growled.
"You said if it had to do with business...."
"Where is it ya wimpy, spoiled little bastard?!"
"Is that any way to talk to--"
"I don't give a flying freak who you are! I have had it!"
"It's business!"
"You give me that code or I'll make it my business to whup your butt right up to your ears!"
"Okay!" Brian pouted. "Geez!" He walked over to the computer on the credenza beside his desk.
"Of all the stupid---"
"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Brian snapped. "Let's get one thing clear. This is business related. If you want those funds to go where they're supposed to go, you're going to have to pay."
"What?" David stood almost toe to toe with Brian.
Brian trembled. It was like having a ferocious tiger right on top of you. He stood his ground, but his voice wavered. "The payee is Capitol Bank of Nassau, but it's really a bank in Jamaica, which immediately deposits funds into Swiss bank accounts. Once that money goes, we'll never see it again."
"But that money is for charity! I worked hard for that! There's medical supplies and scholarships for overseas--"
"Yeah," Brian muttered. "Tough break for those kids." He looked at his fingernails. For a moment, just within the field of vision of his downward gaze, Brian saw the huge man in front of him lean forward, as if the tiger was about to kill. "But the good news is," he interjected, "it won't go through unless I enter the validation code. At midnight, without that validation code, the transaction is canceled. You know that."
"Give me the code!"
"Nope."
Give me the code, Brian!"
Brian took a sip of his Martini. "All right! All right! But it's gonna cost you, and it'll be interesting to see what you'd pay. Mr. High and Mighty. Mr. Holier Than Thou. Money can't buy you, huh?"
"I am not putting up with this," David muttered and marched to the door.
"That's not going to do you any good. The door's locked. You need a code for that too if you want to get out. Hell, I'll sell you that too. But it's one or the other. You can have the code to unlock the door and leave, or you can have the code to stop the transaction. Of course, if you choose the door, all those poor little kids in...................Botswana or.........wherever, won't get their pencils and erasers and rulers, or whatever you arranged."
"And if I stay?" David asked.
Brian walked casually over to David. He set his Martini down on a side table and stood, staring up at David. He grabbed the front of David's shirt with both hands and ripped it open all the way to the waist. There was a rhythmic pop pop pop of buttons breaking free and then tiny clatterings as they scattered across the floor..
For one second, there was an expression of shock on David's face. And then the tiger returned. A fist was raised. The torso twisted back to deliver a blow.
"THE FIRST...!" Brian yelled.
David held his fist in check. Barely.
"The first thing you're going to have to do," Brian began as he undid David's tie, "is to take off this shirt like I told you to do a long time ago." Brian tossed the tie to the floor, and then he unbuckled David's belt. He held the buckle firmly in his fist. He took a wide stance, and with one forceful pull, the belt was whisked free, leaving Brian standing like a taskmaster with a whip in his hand. The similarity was not lost on either of them. Brian stood there, wound like a spring, ready to use his whip. David's fist relaxed, and his arm dropped to his side. With a haughty smile, Brian tossed the belt to the floor and stood chest to chest with David. Without looking down, he found the button and zipper of the pants. He undid the button, but he tore the zipper open just as he'd done with the shirt, and then he reached in to hold the hot meat and bull balls in his hand. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, and then one hand pulled the pants down while the other lifted the mighty cock and balls to hang free, covered only by thin, stretch briefs. He tugged at the front of David's shirt, untucking it, and then he casually undid the remaining buttons. "And then you've got it pretty easy.," he said. "Let's see. What time is it?" He flashed his gold Rolex. "Five minutes to seven. Good. That gives you three hours." He let the front of the unbuttoned shirt fall, and then, as though dramatically parting curtains , he spread the shirt open in one swift movement. "Holy Mother of God!" he yelled, and then he laughed excitedly. "And to think it's all mine!" He stood staring at the huge, hairy chest and the cobblestone abs. "Oh MAN this is gonna be good!" He picked up his Martini and surveyed the giant standing before him. Bryan's eyes wandered. "Oh GOD I love how your chest goes up and down when you're mad!" And then he reached up and slid his hand along the side of David's chest. "It's simple," he began. "All you have to do is do everything I say." He chuckled. "I get to touch you everywhere. I get to see any pose I want. I get to find your sensitive spots. I get to watch you play with yourself, and then I get to play with you, and I won't be satisfied until you beg me to stop and/or beg me to let you cum. Oh we're going to have loads of fun. But first, I'm gonna pour myself another drink, and then I'm gonna sit back and watch you take off your clothes," he said as he lifted his drink and, taking great care not to spill the martini, he pointed carefully with his index finger, and his voice took on the tone of a warning. "If you don't do everything exactly the way I want it, I'll give you another chance. But if you screw it up a second time, the deal's off, and I put the transaction through on the spot. So you'd better do things with...great...enthusiasm..." Brian leered. "For the children of course." And then he laughed.
David glared at him.
"Now," Brian said as he stroked the side of David's chest. "Be a good boy and take off all your clothes...slowly." And before he returned to his chair, he gave David's chest two strong pats.
2007