“Hold the elevator!”
Giancarlo Palpeggio, the only person in the elevator at 10:30 in the morning lull, pressed the “open door” button and held it.
Jordi Madden was just returning from a run to the bank. He sprinted across the lobby and into the ornate elevator cab.
“Thanks!” he said, acknowledging the older gentleman.
Jordi had seen him before, had admired his beautifully tailored suits. They matched his luxurious waxed mustache and his air of mature authority.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, eying the young man, looking past the casual attire to size up his youthful frame.
“Thirty-four, please,” Jordi asked. He couldn’t reach the panel; it was blocked by his fellow occupant.
“Visiting someone?” Gianni asked engagingly, as he pressed number thirty-four. He was glad for the time these slow elevators provided. Well, sometimes. Like now.
“I work here,” Jordi replied, snapping a little. At nineteen, it irked him that people always assumed he was younger than his age. But he relented at the signs of genuine interest he saw in Gianni’s eyes.
“Summer job. I’m a sophomore at Syracuse.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. A foolish assumption,” the older man recovered suavely. “What kind of work do you do?” He liked the sound of the boy’s voice. Almost as much as he liked the shape of his ass and his clean jawline and dimpled chin.
“Oh, just odd jobs. For my grandfather. He’s the Giordini in Giordini and Ellefson.”
“Ah, yes, I know their work.” He smiled warmly. “I’m in design myself – clothing, not interiors. But he’s very good, your grandfather.”
“Yes, it’s been a long career. He wants me to come into the business, but I’m majoring in computer engineering.”
The elevator stopped. Thirty-fourth floor, Jordi’s floor.
“It’s been nice talking to you,” Jordi said sincerely, exiting the cab.
“Likewise,” said the older man. He extended his foot onto the track to stop the door. “Listen,” he added. “Do you get any breaks?”
“I get an hour at noon, for lunch.”
“I wonder,” he spoke quickly, “could you come see me then? I have a little job for you.” Jordi looked doubtful. “Here’s my card,” he said earnestly, putting it in Jordi’s hand. “I’m two floors up, on thirty-six. Just show it to the receptionist.”
“I don’t know… I’m…” Jordi began, but the doors closed. He looked at the card. It was wrapped in a twenty-dollar bill.
“Giancarlo Palpeggio import consultant” it read above the contact info.
A twenty? Well, maybe I will, he thought.
—–
“Call me Gianni, everybody does,” he said, stepping from behind his wide modern desk and taking the young man’s hand in a warm handshake. “And you are?”
“Jordi Madden.”
“Oh, so not Giordini?”
“On my mother’s side. That’s actually my middle name. I’m named after my father, Joe, but they call me Jordi, short for Giordini, to avoid confusion.”
“So half Italian, half what, Irish?” Giancarlo gestured toward the chair in front of the desk and took his seat opposite.
“Yes, pretty much. There’s also some Dutch in there somewhere…” Jordi settled into his chair and glanced at the nearby platter.
“I took the liberty of ordering sandwiches to save time. You like prosciutto?”
“Sure.”
“Help yourself. I’ll explain why I asked you here.”
The sandwiches were small and very simple – just Italian ham sliced very thin and piled between the halves of little crusty rolls – but here was a stack of them. Jordi chose a crinkle-cut carrot from the bowl of assorted pickles and ate two of the rolls while Gianni spoke.
“As I mentioned before, I do some design myself, but I’m primarily an importer. I work with Italian design houses, Asian manufacturers, and US retailers. It’s a fascinating business. I do a lot of consulting too on several lines, especially high fashion and sportswear.”
He opened a low, flat box on his desk. “Now, this is one of my designs,” he said, holding up a small pair of blue and white swim briefs.
Jordi stopped chewing and stared at the tiny bit of cloth.
“This is a prototype. I just received it for review. I’d like you to try it on for me. I think you’re just the right size.” He smiled warmly at the young man’s surprise. “And just the right body type,” he added and raised an eyebrow.
Jordi blushed under the older man’s obviously appreciative gaze. He was suddenly very self conscious. He swallowed the rest of his sandwich and washed it down with a gulp of his San Pellegrino.
“Me? You want me to…” Jordi’s immediate impulse to decline was softened by the charm of Gianni’s sincerity. He could feel it in his smile. “Don’t you have models for that?” he countered.
“Well, yes, sure,” Gianni responded with a slight shrug, “but I don’t know if we could find one as pret… as perfect as you.” He raised that bushy eyebrow again. “Anyway, that’s why I’m paying you.”
He pushed a one hundred dollar bill across the desk.
“Oh,” said Jordi, warming to the proposition. Not because of the money, not entirely. More because he liked this man. He liked his attention, anyway. There was something fun, almost conspiratorial, in his twinkling eyes.
“Okay,” Jordi said tentatively, accepting the proffered garment.
The skimpy briefs had quarter-inch-wide curvy vertical lines in two shades of blue, like sine waves in alternate phases, on a white background, so that the white spaces were narrow and wide on the diagonal.
He stood up, briefs in hand, and looked around nervously, realizing he now had to undress.
“You can change behind the screen,” Gianni said, indicating the folding screen in the corner.
Jordi undressed in the privacy afforded by the screen. Even so, he was acutely conscious that he was going to be exposing himself to very close scrutiny. He wondered for a moment what his girlfriend would think. Would she too find this man intriguing?
He pulled the stretchy briefs up his legs and over his hips. The fabric was a little clingy, but it stretched comfortably over his ass and he had no trouble tucking in his cock and balls. He did worry, though, that his modest package would be all too obvious.
He stepped bravely from behind the screen and stood awkwardly under Gianni’s expectant gaze, unsure what to do with his hands. He let his arms hang limp at his sides in feigned nonchalance.
Gianni wheeled his chair around the corner of his desk for an unobstructed view of the slim young man across the room. He admired Jordi’s broad shoulders and tapered waist. He liked the way his nearly hairless chest, though not muscular, was nicely defined. He was, as Gianni had expected, neither bony nor soft. Lovely, he thought.
“Well!” he said. “That looks great!” He smiled broadly. “Would you turn around, please?”
Jordi, much relieved and encouraged, complied and displayed his backside. There was a moment of silence while Gianni admired the perfect curves of the thinly veiled butt-cheeks. Jordi became self-conscious again. The vulnerability he felt, unable to see Gianni’s reaction, made him anxious. He was anxious to make a good impression.
Finally, Gianni spoke. “Oh, yes! That. Is. Perfect!”
The enthusiasm in Gianni’s voice was a balm; it lifted Jordi’s spirits and washed away his fears.
“Come over here. Let’s get a closer look.” Gianni’s voice was husky.
Jordi turned and took slow, deliberate steps toward the seated man, conscious of his bearing, wanting to appear serene, like a runway model. He looked Gianni in the eye as he approached, seeking approval, and finding it. Not just approval, but something more.
It was a look of pleasure in Gianni’s eyes, a delight that lighted his whole demeanor. Jordi found it exciting. He felt himself emboldened, recognizing that he was truly pleasing this man, maybe even more than he had hoped.
His whole body tingled with each step. And each step brought him closer to the man whose approbation he craved. His body felt charged by Gianni’s evident pleasure. It felt electric; his cock erected.
It didn’t bother him that his cock had swelled to full mast. Let Gianni see it, he thought. In the moment, it seemed totally appropriate. And it felt like a pivot point in his destiny. Anything was possible.
He arrived at the side of the desk and stood before his observer. Gianni wheeled his chair up close and ran his hand up the front of the suit, sweeping his palm over Jordi’s erection.
“See how the pattern masks your bulge?” He looked up at Jordi’s face. “That’s how it was designed. We have to keep some secrets from the ladies, don’t we?” He smiled as he cupped Jordi’s balls and squeezed gently.
Jordi’s heartbeat was deafening his ears and pulsing cock. The moment was at once unimaginable and inevitable. It swept over him, stripping him of agency.
“Turn around, love,” Gianni said with his hands on Jordi’s hips, gently pushing him to pivot. “Let’s see how they fit in back.”
Jordi turned easily, compliant, mindlessly receptive to every touch, any suggestion.
“Oh, my!” Gianni said breathlessly. “Fits like a glove!” He ran a finger tantalizingly under the edge of the fabric, around the opening, from under each cheek to the front of his thighs, before palming his right cheek and giving it a squeeze. “Beautiful, Jordi!”
Without knowing why, Jordi sighed and relaxed into the hands that were now massaging both of the cheeks of his pliant boy-butt. Gianni let him sink into his lap and compress his own thick cock as he wrapped his arms around the youth’s waist.
He grasped the bulge in the front of the trunks as whispered into Jordi’s ear. “You have a boner, don’t you, Jordi?” He started to rub the shaft through the thin and stretchy fabric.
Jordi found his voice. “Yes…” He was breathing fast and shallowly; his voice was soft and breathy. “Yes, it feels good…” The pleasure was building. “Don’t stop…” He began to move his hips in sync with Gianni’s ministering hand, increasing the friction on his hard and aching cock.
The eruption came suddenly, with intensity. Jordi was mind-blown despite its imminence and inevitability, as if he had never had an orgasm before. It was that intense.
“Uuuhhhghgh.” A long, low, guttural, gut-seated moan escaped his throat, impelled by the same force that was propelling jets of surging semen into his shorts, drowning his pulsing cock in a flood of hot magma, right under Gianni’s able hand.
Gianni held on to him, as if he might otherwise collapse to the floor. He held him close until his breath steadied, while he massaged the bulge with his hand, feeling the squishy texture of the cum surrounding the cock as it relaxed.
“Mmm,” Gianni muttered when Jordi appeared to become conscious again, “we’d better get you cleaned up.” He helped the lad off his lap and to turn facing him.
Jordi, having returned to his senses, was acutely embarrassed, and now even more so as Gianni peeled the suit down to his knees.
“Wow! That’s a lot of cum!” Gianni said, admiring the spunk-filled gusset.
“I’m so sorry!” Jordi cried. “I’ve ruined them.”
“They wouldn’t be much good if they couldn’t stand up to a little cum, now would they?” Gianni chuckled reassuringly as he helped the young man step out of them. He swiped a finger through the goo and put it in his mouth.
“Look at you! You’re even more of a mess!” Gianni exclaimed as he leaned forward and and took the slimy limp cock into his mouth. Jordi was too shocked to react to Gianni’s warm mouth and the tongue eagerly bathing him.
“Mmm,” Gianni yummed happily. Finished with the cock, he smacked his lips and began licking Jordi’s pubes all around the root of his cock, holding his naked butt with both hands, and snaking his tongue around and underneath the hairy balls until he had devoured all the cum he could find.
Jordi was astounded. This was so different from anything he had ever experienced. Sure, his girlfriend had gone down on him, but Kayla had never shown this much zeal, nor had she shown the slightest interest in his cum. Quite the contrary, in fact.
He found himself quickly becoming aroused again. He wasn’t used to being the object of desire. He had always been the one to initiate. Gianni was calling all the shots and it was turning him on!
Gianni rolled to his left and turned Jordi to face the desk. “Bend forward,” he said from behind. “Put your elbows on the desk.”
Jordi complied, laying his torso down on the desk, pinning his cock beneath him, fully engorged. Meanwhile, Gianni’s hands were massaging his ass-cheeks again, making him quiver with need.
“So nice!” Gianni murmured as he spread those pale cheeks apart, exposing a pink groove with a tiny ring in the center, encircled by tiny soft hairs. His thumb brushed the little pucker before he leaned in to kiss it, inhaling its warm, musky spice.
Jordi was astonished once again. Led further into passive erotic receptivity by Gianni’s kneading and spreading – feeling his cheeks pulled apart – and the brush of mustache on his butt, he was unprepared for the intense pleasure that came from getting licked from nuts to man-hole.
And when Gianni’s tongue honed in on his virgin hole, alternately lapping and probing, he found himself raised to a new plateau of erotic desire. He was no longer merely receptive, but eager to give himself up, to be taken.
He could not believe how good it felt having a wet tongue flicking and probing his tight little anus. The taught sphincter twitched in response, coming alive. It winked in tiny spasms. It wanted to be opened and stretched.
A finger. Yes! Gianni pushed one, then two, spit-slicked digits through the clinging ring of tingling tightness that had, moments before, been the guardian of Jordi’s imagined impenetrable masculinity.
Jordi did not care. He had willingly become Gianni’s toy. His hole was blissfully throbbing as Gianni’s fingers plunged and plundered to new depths, sawing in and out through portals of pleasure.
And then it happened: Gianni’s cock. Somehow, it had been freed from its elegant confines and, steel-hard and weaponized, was ready to impose blunt force trauma on anything resistant to its will to penetrate. Gianni was on his feet, ready for plunder.
Jordi felt a blunt tip at the gates and joyfully surrendered. It pushed through the exquisite constriction, stretching it, radiating waves of red-hot bliss through his pelvis and beyond. Gianni’s exultant “FFFuckkk yeahhh!” sealed the deal for Jordi: to be the source and object of this man’s pleasure.
Gianni pushed through to the hilt. He leaned forward and whispered in Jordi’s ear, his cock still for the moment, lodged deep and throbbing inside the boy, “Am I hurting you?”
“Oh, no, it feels so good!” Jordi thrust his ass back, emphasizing the point. The fuse of orgasm was lit. Gianni began to fuck, thrusting his girthy tool in and out of the hot, slick, clinging tunnel of Jordi’s bowel.
It took only a few cycles of in-and-out before Jordi came, his second cum in less than a quarter-hour! His body quaked, his love-tunnel gripped and throbbed around the cock moving inside it, and he groaned as his cum spurted onto the desk beneath him.
Gianni stopped with his cock balls-deep, enjoying the rippling convulsions of the boy-cunt gripping it. Surprised by Jordi’s quick climax, he slowly withdrew. He helped Jordi up, exposing a puddle of cum on the desk.
“That was wonderful, Jordi,” Gianni said. “Now be a good boy and lick up the little treat you left.”
Jordi, still high on o-hormones, swabbed the woodgrain clean, scooping up his pearly wad, and swirled it around his mouth curiously before swallowing. He turned back around and, eyes wide, licked his lips and searched Gianni for approval.
“Good boy!” Gianni said, meaning it, so pleased with Jordi’s sexual responses and easy compliance. “How did you like it?”
“Oh, it tasted…” he paused. “I liked it,” he said simply. It wasn’t the taste per se, but Gianni had liked it, so it was good. Plus he had been told to do it. He was a good boy.
“Here, sit down. I’ll feed you some more!”
Jordi set his naked ass on Gianni’s warm leather seat and stared at the big thick cock in his face. Gianni let his trousers hit the floor and moved close enough for the smell of his ass-scented cock to pierce Jordi’s brain. Thick and hard and aimed right in his face.
“Taste your ass-juice,” Gianni said. The boy was already leaning in, mouth open, to receive the manhood of his mentor. Eager to learn and eager to please, he slurped at the beast that filled his mouth so easily. His tongue swirled and danced around it, exploring the veiny texture of it, swallowing and savoring the spiced saliva that helped him wash away his rectal traces.
“Good boy!” Gianni said again, feeling the rush of his own arousal like the rising of sap in the trunk of his sex, making his syrup flow.
Jordi heard the praise and he tasted the change, the slickness and delicious salt-sweetness of precum. He had to suck seriously now; he was compelled, possessed by the Spirit of Sucking, if there were such a being. He needed it. He sucked so hard! Like his life depended on it.
And he knew. He knew it was cock he was sucking, and sucking for completion. The goal was obvious. To make him come. Suck the cock! Make him come! It was so simple and so beautiful. Gianni’s cock. In his mouth. To bring it pleasure, to make him come. To achieve the reward. To drink his cum, to swallow it down like the good boy he wanted to be. For Gianni.
And so it came to pass. Rapturous release. Grateful swirls and swallows of splurging spermy spunk.
“So good!” Gianni stroked Jordi’s hair as the last tremors passed. “Such a good boy!”
He pulled up his pants and Jordi watched him tuck away his cock, sad to see it go.
“I hate to run, but I’ve got a meeting to get to. So you’ll get dressed and see yourself out,” he said, tucking in his shirt.
Jordi got up. He was happy, cum-dazed. He watched Gianni prepare to leave. How did he manage to look so perfect?
Gianni stopped in the doorway. He turned, and smiling broadly, said, “Same time tomorrow? I’ve got other clothes for you to try on.”
He closed the door behind him.
