Employee of the Month, Pride Parade part 3: 4/NOV

[Broody]

4 hours ago, FallenAway said:

In each chapter the new character is hotter than the last one.  I've forgotten all about - what's his name? - the keyboard guy.  I have no need to see him again.  Unless Hamza is going to fuck him.

Thanks bro  

Hamza definitely wants something from Banner. And what Hamza wants, Hamza gets.

[Broody]

Thursday June 11 :Interview with an Olympian

Thursday morning I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing and groaned. I wished I was groaning because Hamza had destroyed my hole the day before but quite the opposite. On our way to his caveman fuck-lair, Hamza got an emergency call from his boss, Franklin, the senior accountant and VP Finance. Whatever year-end crisis it was, it took precedence over my rear-end. But before he left, he sat my naked ass down on the glass of the photocopier and pushed the button. He grabbed the grainy picture of my rosebud and pointed at it.

“This is mine, got it? No one else gets it first.”

I just nodded, drooling as he unfastened his pants, pulled his pants halfway down his enormous hairy quads, and shoved the page down inside his packed briefs, crumpling it around in there before pulling it out and tacking it onto the bulletin board with a pushpin. I know he meant it as a pheremonal warning to the rest of the office, but I couldn’t help myself and I grabbed it as soon as he left, huffing his manscent like cocaine. I came hard as the copier spewed out a flipbook of my quivering asspucker.

Now, I clutched the ragged, sticky page as I woke, having repeatedly wet-dreamed of Hamza smothering me with his hairy muscles in the night. I rolled over and grabbed my phone.

“What?” I yelled.

“Easy there, New Meat.”

“Ugh, what do you want, Brian?”

“Are you at the office yet?”

“No, I’m in bed.”

“Too much information. Look, get there as soon as you can and meet Rich from HR.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re interviewing for a new intern.”

***

Rich rolled his eyes as I rushed into the interview room late. He was a CrossFit champion and one of the hottest guys in the office, but such a jackass. For a guy who was more ripped than Stu, had better endurance than Chiang, and was stronger than Gabe, you’d think he’d be less insecure. But it was a bit of a self-perpetuating cycle. He’d get it in his head that someone in the office was more popular than him, then he’d try to win the others over by showing that guy up in a mean and needy way, which would then make him less popular and more insecure. But nevertheless, did I get a throbbing boner when he showed off? When he made me stick my finger into his ab cuts, up to the second knuckle? When he did 100 handstand pushups wearing a 100 lb weighted vest? You’re damn right I did.

He was also mad that he had to do these interviews with me, when he blamed me for the fiasco with Tommy the previous intern.

“Dude just don’t open your mouth, let me do the talking.” His closed his big hands into fists and his meaty pecs did a little anger-dance beneath his jacket and shirt.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me, Tommy was an incompetent asshole.”

“That’s not the point, Jeffy. There’s a process. If you have a complaint about an employee, you bring it to me and I’ll deal with it, not to fucking Brian. Because I’m a man, and Brian is a stuck up little bitch.”

“You’re never at your desk, you’re always at that Crossfit gym. The one you tried to sell me on? What’s the ‘process’ for conflict of interest, huh, Rich?”

Rich suddenly clamped his big right hand onto my face and squeezed, his muscular forearm stretching his jacket sleeve to the max. “I swear to God I will pop your stupid head like a zit if you mention that one more time, you skinny fuck.” He released me and I fell back in my chair gasping. He stood up and buttoned the jacket, which emphasized his iconic shoulder to waist ratio. “Just remember: I do the talking.”

He left the room to go get the first candidate. 

I looked over his resume. Alexandre Gaspard. Canadian. Nineteen years old. Gold medalist in bobsled at the Winter Olympics. Jesus, that was two years ago. No university, no experience. Well, this’ll be a short interview. I was looking through the other resumes when Rich opened the door. As Rich stepped through, a shadow fell over him as the humongous hulk behind him blocked all the light from the hallway. He had to step sideways and duck his head just to get through the door. I started to get short of breath. This mountain of a man was just nineteen? He looked like a lumberjack who ate another lumberjack! The chair groaned submissively as he sat. He was clean shaven and youthfully handsome, with freshly trimmed auburn hair and a neck significantly wider than his head.

Rich was doing what he always did when he felt threatened. Being hostile as fuck.

“Bobsled,” he said as he sat down opposite the candidate.“That’s the one where you need three other guys to help you push your sled downhill?”

Alexandre cocked his head which even seated towered a foot over Rich’s. “What’s your sport, then, little dude?”

“I’m a fucking Crossfit champion, you punk!” he seethed. Very few men had the guts to call Rich ‘little’.

“So I won an Olympic gold medal, and you won, what? A new pair of Reeboks?”

“Uh, fellas—” I said, timidly trying to push through the testosterone. Rich interrupted.

“Dude I toss twice the weight of your fat ass on my sled and push it across a stadium…”

The candidate kept his calm, though his eyes narrowed at the word ‘fat’: “I pushed three guys plus a 210 kilogram sled to a speed of 40 km/hr in 3.2 seconds. World record start time.”

Rich ignored him and kept talking as if he hadn’t spoken. “...then I’ll flip a tractor tire back the other way.”

Alexandre grinned like this was the funniest thing ever. “Awww. That’s cute. Just the tire?”

My cock stiffened imagining him easily flipping the whole tractor end over end. Rich was totally in over his head trying to intimidate this rhinoceros of a dude.

“Look, Alexander…”

“Alex-AHN-Druh. It’s French, eh?”

“Whatever. I don’t think this is the job for you. There’s no way a Canadian has the same drive for success as an American.”

“Wanna bet?” With a heavy thud, Alexandre propped his Olympic-sized arm on the table and waggled his sausage-sized fingers.

Rich looked at him in disbelief. You want to arm wrestle? For the job?”

Alexandre gave him a dead-eyed stare like he was a grizzled six-gun wielding bandit instead of a 19 year old internship applicant. “Unless you’re scared?”

The chair squeaked as Rich stood and made a big show of taking off his jacket, revealing a plain black t-shirt beneath. He hung the jacket on the back of the chair and sat back down. “You’re the one who oughta be scared, punk,” he growled, slamming his arm down on the table with a loud bang.

He had a point. Anyone else might have shit their pants at the sight of Rich’s powerful flexed arm, a multi-layered anatomical masterpiece of bulging, veiny, muscle that was as thin-skinned as his personality. But Alexandre didn’t flinch. Rich had huge hands and wrists so the difference as he and the giant job applicant locked up wasn’t as much as you might expect given that the teen appeared to have a hundred pounds on him. In his boxy gray suit shot through with blue pinstripes, Alexandre’s conditioning was hard to judge, but there was no doubt he was enormous.

He looked over at me and gave me a sexy wink. “You say go, cutie.”

Rich warned me with a look but I ignored him and yelled “GO!” with great enthusiasm.

Rich roared with effort and his forearm, delt and triceps exploded with power as he instantly slammed Alexandre’s arm to the table… almost. Rich grunted orgasmically as he leaned in to finish off the last inch. “Suuuuck myyyyyy dickkkk you punnnnk!”

Alexandre's arm turned to stone and budged no further. “You seem like an asshole. I’d rather suck his.” He inclined his head to me with a smile and I flushed while my hard-on grew, tentpoling my dress slacks under the table. Alexandre grunted and the fabric of his suit sleeve tightened as he slowly moved their arms back to the neutral position while Rich’s eyes bulged out of his sockets in a futile effort to stop him.

Alexandre calmly spoke while Rich heaved breaths. “My Dad always says: negotiate from a position of strength.”

Rich gripped the side of the table with his opposite hand and leaned in until his nose dropped sweat onto their entwined hands. “I’m gonna rip that arm off of you and eat it like a chicken wing, fatty. Then you’ll know what strength is. GREAAAAHHHH!!!!!”

The curve of Rich’s delt ripped a seam on his shirt as his arm powered them down again, only to be stopped cold by Alexandre’s will at the exact same spot. He bellowed in frustration as their arms moved back to neutral. The kid was barely breathing hard, but a pump was definitely showing now as the sleeve of his boxy suit was tight around the big muscle moving underneath.

“Try again?” he said waggling his reddish eyebrows. “Don’t hold back, bro.”

Red-faced, humiliation turned to anger in Rich’s darkened face and his whole body exploded with rage. I gasped as his left hand snapped a chunk of enameled wood off the table edge and his black t-shirt split in three more places around his muscular back, neck and chest. “GUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Their arms stopped again, this time only half-an-inch above the table. Rich’s tremendous strength had formed a divot in the tabletop under his elbow but it wasn’t enough to finish off the Olympian hulk. It did draw a sweat from his brow finally as he, smoothly but now more slowly, drew them back to even.

Alexandre used his opposite hand to pull the pocket square out of his suit jacket and lightly mop up the sweat.

“Damn bro, you’re strong for a little dude. Not a bad workout. But you ready to talk business?” He replaced the pocket square and drummed his fingers on the table.

Rich pushed again but this time, no movement. Had Alexandre just been toying with him? You could see the thought crossing his mind too. He nodded.

“Salary expectations.” Rich said, through gritted teeth, not relaxing his flex one iota.

Alexandre named a figure and Rich countered with a much lower figure that I thought was appalling. If that was what they had paid Tommy, it was no wonder he was angry all the time.

Alexandre’s suit sleeve looked close to bursting as he started pushing Rich’s arm down.

The HR lead nearly whimpered as his gorgeous ball of veiny bicep was slowly stretched out like it was steel in a forge, being molded by a strong blacksmith into a shape he demanded. I put my hand on it as I leaned in to whisper in Rich’s ear. “Just give him what he asked for. It’s pocket change for this company.” 

After a few more moments seeing the tabletop approaching, he finally mumbled “Ok. Ok.” He capitulated, humbled by Alexandre’s Olympic brawn.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it little dude.” the teen powerhouse smirked, bringing their hands back to neutral.

Rich tried to unlock their hands, but Alexandre wouldn’t let go.

“Hold on. We’re not done here. Benefits.”

Rich laughed, almost hysterically, as sweat bathed his cruel, handsome face. “Benefits? It’s an internship position. There are no benefits.”

Alexandre’s face darkened menacingly. “Let me be more specific:” 

Alexandre squeezed Rich’s hand tight. I heard a knuckle pop. 

“Disability benefits.”

Rich stuttered as he backpedaled, grimacing in pain. “S-sixty percent of salary… “ Crackle, pop! “Eighty! Eighty percent, unlimited physical rehabilitation and mental health services.”

Alexandre nodded. He then raised his other hand and formed a fist in front of Rich’s nervously clacking teeth. “Dental.”

“Ugh. F-full coverage for extractions, repairs…” he gulped. “A-and surgical implants.”

“Nice… Life insurance.”

“This is a software company, not a construction site!”

“Still,” the huge teen countered, mashing Rich’s hand even further into his fist. “Accidents happen.”

I heard the sound of water dripping below the table and I realized Rich had pissed himself.

“Ok,” Rich whimpered again, completely defeated. “Life insurance.”

“Almost there little dude. Company car.”

I thought poor Rich’s brain would explode. I was about to cum under the table. Seriously the balls on this guy. “What? There’s no, there’s no…” he babbled, delirious.

“What do you drive, lil’ Richie?”

“D-dodge Charger.” he gasped, close to passing out from the pain.

“Classic muscle car. That’ll do.” He waggled the fingers of his outstretched palm.

Rich dropped the keys into his hand and burst into tears as Alexandre released his grip, blood finally flowing back into his crimped, anemic hand.

I leaned forward and offered a fist bump to the massive teen. “Welcome to the team! You start Monday.”

“Sweet!” Alexandre grinned, suddenly a puppy dog. Then his face fell. “Oh damn!”

“What’s wrong, Alexandre?”

“There was one more thing I was gonna ask for.”

“What’s that?”

He flexed his arms in a sudden movement and biceps the size of soccer balls exploded through the sleeves of his suit, instantly turning them into rags that he pulled off and threw at a dumbfounded Rich. I gasped and my knees buckled as my cumshot tore out of me, soaking right through my pants.

He grinned like a kid who at last performed his most impressive magic trick at a party.

“Clothing allowance!” 

As I recovered my breath, I pulled my last Butch in the Streets card out of my pocket.

“I know just the place!”

 

Cont.

 

[Longlaz]

Great as Usual  

[Broody]

2 minutes ago, Longlaz said:

Great as Usual  

Thanks, bro!

[Lukullus]

OMG, we definitely do get Alexandre shoe off and his muscles measured!

Soccerball sized biceps ripping through sleeves made me cum HUUUUUGE!

[Broody]

8 hours ago, Lukullus said:

OMG, we definitely do get Alexandre shoe off and his muscles measured!

Soccerball sized biceps ripping through sleeves made me cum HUUUUUGE!

That’s awesome, bro! Definitely have more plans for Alexandre. But first we need to catch up with some of the other players!

[Ro20316]

Hazam better turn things up cause it looks like simeone else wants to pop our guy cherry.

[Broody]

Will 

42 minutes ago, Ro20316 said:

Hazam better turn things up cause it looks like simeone else wants to pop our guy cherry.

Will Jeffy's "cherry" survive another Frat Boy Friday? Stay tuned!

[Broody]

Holy smokes! Must have done something right in that last chapter for the views to jump by 5000 in two days! Folks don’t be shy about leaving a reaction or a comment it’s great to get feedback!

[Guest]

5 hours ago, Broody said:

Holy smokes! Must have done something right in that last chapter for the views to jump by 5000 in two days! Folks don’t be shy about leaving a reaction or a comment it’s great to get feedback!

it's most likely because as the follower number increase, when they return to read, probably their views after a time is considered new, so the views just explode by old ones being renewed and new ones arrive. for this to happen people should really be in anticipation. like leaving with a cliffhanger, saying that sex scene will come at the next chapter with a certain someone... or they can just enjoy the story like me to wait for that sweet sweet juicy content. both are equally effective