Bending My Straight Boss

Dangerous conversation.

Dario’s point of view.

I had no idea that my P.A. had such a dirty mind. He seemed … normal.

And he’s thinking of me when he strokes himself?

I must admit that I am a little flattered. He’s a good-looking man and I bet that he can have anyone he wants, so fantasizing about me increases my ego a bit.

I can see that he’s muscular. Maybe not as muscular as I am, a leaner kind of muscular, but manly nonetheless.

I mean, I don't think that there's a particular way that gay people look or act, and he's the walking, talking proof because no one would ever think that he's gay.

Back to his description. His bright azure eyes are accentuated by his light caramel complexion and his jet-black hair, which is short on the sides and long on top, almost always kept in a man bun, but I’ve seen him a couple of times with it untied, and I can say that it's quite nice.

It’s curly—not wavy or tightly curled, but somewhere in between. Loose curls. Yes, that's the accurate description. And it shines and looks soft. I even heard some of my female employees talking about it.

He could easily make commercials for hair products.

He’s tall, about my height, maybe one or two inches shorter, and he has a big d**k. Okay, I don’t think it’s okay to think about his d**k.

Anyway, the point is that I’m flattered.

The day goes by, and I catch him looking at me several times, and I can’t help but laugh.

I haven’t laughed this much in forever, at least not this kind of laughter. The easy and amused kind.

It’s almost time to go home, and as usual, he just barges in without knocking, but this time I don't even bother to scold him.

“I came to ask you if you need anything else before I go, and... well... to take a last look,” he says with a grin and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making me laugh again.

“You’re impossible.” He shrugs his shoulders as if he knows that, but there's nothing he can do about it.

“Not my fault that you’re hot,” he replies, then bites his lip as if he's trying to stop himself from saying more, making me chuckle.

Damn, he's something else.

“I don’t need anything, and I hope you’re satisfied for tonight.”

“Satisfied?” he asks and tilts his head to the side, roams my body with his blue eyes, and chuckles softly.

“I suggest you don’t start this topic,” he advises with a smirk and a threatening c**k of a brow.

“And why is that? Because of your dirty mind?” I ask curiously and cross my arms over my chest, and he sucks in a sharp breath and nods.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, you got me curious. What do you imagine when you… take your showers?” I know that curiosity killed the cat, but I can't help it.

He smirks, comes over, and sits in the chair, leaning back in it, making himself comfortable.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?” The smirk on his face tells me that I should think twice before I answer, and maybe I shouldn't dive into these waters, and the responsible part of my brain tells me to say no, but the irresponsible part, which I haven't used in ages, is bored and begs me to say yes... so…

“Yes. Nobody told me that they fantasize about me, and I’m curious,” I say truthfully and he nods and shrugs his shoulders at the same time, as if saying that it's my funeral.

“Okay. So… my biggest fantasy… curiosity if you may, is how you taste, and the process of finding out. I imagine that you're either sitting in your big chair or leaning against your big desk, and I'm sucking your, what my mind imagines is a big, thick dick.” I almost choke at that, at the honesty in his voice, but he doesn't seem to notice because his eyes are closed as if he's imagining that right now.

Christ!

After a few seconds, he sucks in a sharp, deep breath as if to calm himself, shakes his head as if to erase the dirty images that formed in his mind, and opens his eyes, which now are a significantly darker shade of blue, which is barely noticeable due to his blown pupils.

“And I take you sooooo deep and keep you in sooooo long until I gag uncontrollably and struggle to breathe, and you scream my name as you f**k my mouth painfully and finish down my throat, straight into my stomach…,” he trails off, licks his lips, and swallows what I can only guess is a big amount of saliva that gathered in his mouth while he thought about sucking me.

Well, f**k me!

“Should I carry on?” he asks in a low voice, and I stupidly answer:

“Yes.” Stupid! Straight f*****g stupid!

“My second fantasy is you f*****g me hard on every surface in this office. You take control of my body, make me lose my breath, forget my own name, f**k me so hard until my mouth desperately screams for you to stop, but my body begs you to carry on until I pass out due to the excruciating pain mixed with unbearable utter pleasure…,” he trails off as our eyes lock, and I have to force myself to keep eye contact because the desire and the need in his eyes are burning me.

If he were a woman... but he's not!

“Should I go on?” he asks, but advises me with his hungry eyes not to, and I listen to him this time and shake my head, because... well, f**k!!!

“I think it’s enough for one day.”

“See you tomorrow,” he says after he clears his throat, and I nod briefly as he stands up, and I glance at him, then gulp involuntarily as I see that his d**k is pressed against his suit pants.

I avert my gaze quickly, hoping that he didn't see me looking, but now I'm lost because I don’t know what to do, or where to look.

I decide not to make it weird and try to look at him unaffected, but I'm not sure about that either, because I feel like I'm f*****g burning, so my face must be red, and he f*****g smirks knowingly, and I need a f*****g bullet to f*****g shoot myself!!!

He finally turns and goes, and I let out the huge breath of relief I was holding for dear life.

After a few minutes of cursing myself for being stupid, I take a few deep breaths and continue working to erase the conversation I just had.

A conversation I started.

And because I’m the CEO of my own company, people would think I’m smart.

I realize it’s late when the sun has gone down, and I decide to go home. That’s enough for one day.

I order some Chinese because I’m too tired to cook, then hop into the shower, turn the hot water on, and let the water cascade over my tense body, and with each drop of water, I feel my muscles relax one by one.

I lose track of time sitting under the shower, thinking about nothing but the steamy air entering my lungs and the hot water washing the stress that has accumulated today. When I feel light, free of stress, I take my time and wash every inch of my body.

Of course, when I reach my d**k, it gets hard, and instead of turning the water cold to put it to sleep, then calling one of the many women that would come in an instant to help me with my problem, I decide to do what I haven’t done in a long time and fix the problem by myself.

I place my left hand on the wall to support myself, then let my head down while I wrap my fingers around my throbbing d**k, give it a tug and tease my head with my thumb, coating it with the hot precum that leaks with each touch, then start stroking myself slowly, releasing groans of pleasure every few seconds.

I tug on it, squeezing it, then listen to my body's request and increase the speed while I close my eyes in utter pleasure, and from f*****g nowhere, Aless pops into my mind. The picture that he described, with him on his knees, his strikingly blue eyes looking up at me as he’s sucking m-- … f**k NO!!!

I realize what the f**k I'm doing, and I open my eyes faster than I've ever opened them, then get out of the shower faster than I've ever run.

What the f**k is wrong with me?

I'm not f*****g gay!!!

Okay, Dario, calm down. There's nothing wrong.

I tell myself this as I take big breaths of air and calm my stupid self down.

It's because of the talk. I reallyyyyyyyy have to avoid this type of conversation.

I get dressed and wait for the food to arrive, and try not to think about what just happened, and erase the conversations I had with him today.

But, thinking of not thinking of something results in… thinking of that something.

But there's no need to panic. I’ll forget all about it until tomorrow morning.

I eat, watch T.V., then go to bed STILL thinking about it.

Fuck!

I'm just overthinking this.

Overreacting.

But then again... why the f**k did I think about him under the shower? I don’t like men. I never have. And I never will.

Just sleep, Dario!!!!!!!

I barely fall asleep, and as soon as I open my eyes, the first thing that comes to my mind is: DON’T THINK ABOUT IT!

I take the fastest shower in human history to avoid thinking about it, then go to work.

As usual, I get in first and start working. Thankfully, I lose myself in work and I forget all about it until a certain someone barges in.

“Morning,” he greets me with a cheery voice and a smile on his face that makes me want to erase it with a chair due to what he did to me, even though I'm more than aware that it's not his fault. But right now, my mind blames even my mother for not keeping me in a basement so I couldn't learn English, and the teachers that taught both of us so many f*****g words that led to such a vivid description.

I look up and try not to think about it.

And I think about it.

FOR f**k'S SAKE, DARIO, STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!!!!!

“Are you okay? You look pale. Are you sick?” he asks genuinely concerned, and I almost cry.

If you consider thinking about how you suck my d**k sick, then yes, I’m more than sick. I can even say I’m about to die.

But I can't say that, so...

“No. Just tired,” I reply as nonchalantly as I can, and another wave of anxiety washes over me the second my eyes travel from his bright azure eyes to his… full, heart-shaped lips, the bottom one just a tad fuller than the upper, making them even more perfect and shining because he just licked them.

NOOO! Don’t notice that!!!

Dario, come on, man!!!!

I quickly look back at my laptop, hoping and praying to whatever the f**k deity there is in my life that he’ll go out.

“If you don’t feel good, I can postpone the meetings you have today. They are not so important,” he insists in his concerned voice, but I shake my head.

“No. I’m good. I told you, just tired,” I lie in my usual stern, cold voice without looking at him because I don’t know what my eyes are capable of at this point, and I don't want to risk having them roaming and noticing stupid things.

“Okay. If you need me, I’m in my office.” I just nod, still not looking at him, pretending that I'm working.

JUST GO ALREADY!!!!!!

“And... he’s back to his old arrogant self,” he mumbles under his breath, turns, and fina-f*****g-ly goes.

“I heard that!” I exclaim before he gets to close the door, and he huffs.

“Good,” he replies loud enough for me to hear, and I bite my inner cheek hard to control my laughter. I should f*****g fire him, not control my laughter. But I can't help it, he's funny!

The sound of the door closing has never sounded so f*****g good, and without noticing, I let out a breath of relief I was holding for so long that it was about to make me faint.

Fuck!

It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m not attracted to him.

He’s been working here for 9 months, for f**k's sake, and I’ve never once looked at him.

I need to f**k. That’s the answer.

Wild s*x with countless women until I erase that damn conversation from my brain.

And his lips.

Motherfucking, damn, s**t, son of a b***h!!!

Fuck my life!