Dirty little confessions.

Alex banged the door of his office behind him, and the reverberation was heard on the glass walls of the executive suite. One more fourteen-hour day covered with spreadsheets, investor calls, and team crisis. His shoulders pained because of cowering over his desk but the actual strain was knotting down, in his gut and groin. He had not jerked off in days, and had not been able to f**k anyone. A year single, and his body cried for s****l release. Being the CEO of a thriving technology company, he was in charge in the boardrooms, but in bed, he desired the opposite , somebody to take charge, pin him down and beat him up to relieve the stress. He picked up his keys and went to the underground garage where the cool air struck his face as he slipped into his smooth black car. It was a twenty-minute drive to the outskirts of the city, and the traffic grew lighter as he entered the industrial area. The strip club, Midnight Pulse, was in an alley between warehouses, with its neon sign waving in the darkness. Secret, cash-only, and had a reputation of serving men who were fond of men. Alex gave the cover at the door, flashed a hundred to get to the head of the line, and went in, masked. The atmosphere was full of sweat, cheap perfume, and spilt beer. Alex said he had a stool at the bar, and ordered a whiskey neat, and looked around. His c**k jerked at the view of oiled bodies flexing but nothing caught his eye until the next dancer came on stage. The man was disguised, with black cloth over half of his face, and only the keen jawline and the penetrating eyes showing. A tank of a man--wide-shouldered, ripped up, squat-thighed. He walked quietly confidently, scuffling at the pole, his leather trousers stretched to a perceptible swell. Alex's pulse quickened. This one. He waved down the bartender and gave him another hundred. 'Private dance with him. Make it the full room.' The man nodded and within a few moments the stripper, whose real name was Jax, as announced by the announcer, was staring at Alex across the audience. Jax completed his set, with sweat streaming down his chest, and strolled off stage. A bouncer took Alex to a back hall and through velvet curtains to a small room with a battered leather couch, red bulbs, and a mini-fridge that was humming in one corner. Alex sat, with his legs apart, and moved his slacks to conceal his hard-on which was swelling. The door swiveled open and Jax stepped in, still masked, with only those tight pants and boots. 'You requested me?' The voice of Jax was low, gravelly, and with an element of amusement. He closed the door and came to it, his hips swinging. Alex nodded, throat dry. 'Yeah. Full service. Whatever it takes.' He drew out his wallet, and showed a heavy pile of bills. 'Name your price.' Jax looked at the cash, and then at Alex. 'Twenty grand for the works. No questions.' He took the money Alex held out without counting, and went up to him, his knees bumping against those of Alex. Alex's heart hammered. He touched, sliding his hands up the thighs of Jax, and touching the hard muscle. “f**k,” said Alex, with his hands on the hips of Jax and pulling him nearer. Jax dropped his trousers, and a huge, untouched c**k, half-hard, swung between his thighs. Alex's mouth watered. He dropped on his knees on the clingy carpet, without minding. 'I need this.' His fingers were around the bottom, rubbing the c**k, which got swollen in his hand, veins throbbing. Jax moaned, fingers in the hair of Alex. 'Yeah, take it. Suck that dick.' He pushed in shallowly, feeding more into the mouth of Alex. Alex sunk in his cheeks, rolling his tongue round the shaft. “Good boy,” Jax grated, hips jerking. 'Deep throat like a pro.' Alex’s c**k was sore and it did not even need to be touched, as it was leaking into his boxers. He sucked more, more, more, and he was desperate to feel more, to sense that dominance which he had been lacking. Jax jerked away, c**k flying out with a wet smack. 'Enough. Strip.' He lifted Alex up by the collar, opening the buttons of his shirt. They threw off clothes in a frenzy, Alex throws off his tie, kicks off his pants, yanks down his briefs. Alex was naked now, his pale office body contrasting with the tanned muscled body of Jax. Jax pushed him on the couch, face down , ass up. 'Spread 'em.' Alex complied, and his knees were sinking in the cushions, and his cheeks parted to reveal his asshole. The hands of Jax clenched his butt, the thumbs stretched the globes apart. A spit-streaked finger went round the rim, then sank in knuckle-deep. Alex gasped, pushing back. 'More. Finger-f**k me.' Jax chuckled. 'Tight ass. You been saving this for me?' He bent his fingers, striking that place exactly, and Alex bucked, moaning loudly. 'f**k, yes—do that.' Satisfied Jax stepped away, c**k-lining. The head peered at the entrance of Alex. He pushed in slow, inch by inch. Alex clenched the armrest, and he hitch-breath as Jax bottomed out, his balls hitting his. 'Oh s**t— so full.' Alex panted, getting used to the invasion. Jax did not have to wait long; he drew back and banged in, establishing a rhythm. With every thrust Alex was hurled forward, c**k dragging his insides. Their bodies rubbed together on the couch, which was creaking. Jax pounded harder with his hands on the hips of Alex. “Like being like a slut got f****d? Your hole's sucking me in.' 'Yes—harder, f**k me raw.' Alex swung back, and met every stroke, his c**k swinging unattended. “Close--gonna c*m,” Jax growled, and his fingers tore bruises into the skin of Alex. The slap-slap-slap echoed, and he quickened on. A last, great thrust, and Jax pulled out, fisting his wet c**k. c*m on hot ropes sprayed Alex on the back, dripping down his ass crack. Alex crumpled, breathing hard. Jax was seated on the couch, drawing breath. When Alex moved, his eyes caught the stripper by the arm in the dim light, a tiny tattoo on his inner wrist, black lines. His stomach dropped. That exact same tattoo. On his bodyguard, Jordan.