My intern caught me and didn’t leave the office

It was almost eleven at night at the consulting firm’s Valencia headquarters. The upper floors were already dark, and on my floor only the lamp in my office was still glowing. I had spent six straight hours closing out the quarterly report, my eyes tired, my back locked up, and two cold coffees sitting on the papers. For a while now, the building’s silence had weighed on me more than the work.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbed the back of my neck, and let out a sigh. At forty-five, you learn to recognize when your body is asking for something else. It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t sleep. It was that dull tension that shows up when you’ve been sitting too long and your head needs to switch off however it can.

I opened an incognito tab almost without thinking. My fingers ran across the keyboard and let the browser take me to my usual site. I picked any video, one of the kind I knew worked for me: a young, athletic guy with a cocky stare, fucking some older guy hard, a broad, heavily tattooed guy, without asking permission. I turned the volume down to the minimum. It was pure caution; no one should have been on that floor at that hour.

I loosened my tie, settled my shoulders back, and slid my hand over my trousers. The fabric started to bulge almost immediately. I squeezed slowly, following the rhythm of the video, feeling the blood pool lower and my breathing grow heavier. Every time the guy on the screen shoved his cock all the way into the older man’s ass and drew out a rough groan, my fingers tightened a little more around my own cock, already rock hard, pressing its full shape against the suit trousers. A drop escaped, darkening the gray of my underwear. On the screen, the kid grabbed the older man by the hair, pulled his cock out glistening with saliva, and shoved it back in with a hard thrust. “Swallow it all, old man,” he said. And I, in my leather chair, clenched my teeth.

And then I heard the door.

“Damián, sorry, I know it’s ridiculously late, but…”

I jerked my head up. In the doorway was Iván, my intern. Twenty-four years old, ash-blond, eyes blue as two cold slabs of ice, almost six foot three, with gym-built broad shoulders. His shirt was untucked, and he had a couple of folders in his hand.

Time stopped. He saw me. He saw the bulge under my hand. He saw the screen, where the kid in the video was still burying himself up to the balls in the older man without noticing a thing. And he saw how, in less than a second, my face went from pleasure to total panic.

“Sorry,” he murmured, not moving from the doorway.

He didn’t look away. That was the first thing I noticed. Any normal person would have taken two steps back and shut the door in a hurry. Not Iván. Iván stayed rooted in the doorway, those blue eyes slowly roaming from my crotch to the screen and from the screen back to my face.

I tried to close the video with the mouse. I failed twice. The audio moans, even muffled, sounded in the office as if someone had amplified them: the wet slapping of a cock going in and out, the older man’s cracked voice saying, “Like that, you bastard, harder.” With my other hand I tried to cover the bulge, but it was already too late and we both knew it.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said softly. “I just brought you the reports you asked for tomorrow.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat had tightened up, my face was burning, and my heart was hammering against my sternum so hard I was sure he could hear it too. And, to my shame, I was still hard under the fabric, throbbing, not understanding that the situation had changed.

Iván closed the door behind him. Slowly. He turned the key. The click of the lock sounded almost obscene in that silence.

“Well,” he said, with a slow smile I had never seen him wear during office hours, “I didn’t know the boss liked this kind of video at this hour.”

He took a step toward the desk. Then another. He rested his hip on the edge of the desk, right beside me, as if he had every right in the world.

“Relax,” he added. “I’m not going to tell anyone I caught the director jerking off while watching some kid fuck an older guy. Though I have to say, you’ve got excellent taste. He’s splitting that ass in two, isn’t he?”

He was smiling. No nerves, no guilt. Like someone who has accidentally found exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Iván, please…” I started, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Please what, Damián?” He lowered his voice. “For me to go? I can go. Or I can stay. Your call.”

I still had my hand over the bulge. I hadn’t moved it. I hadn’t dared, as if moving it would be admitting out loud what was happening.

Iván looked down, looked up, and bit his lower lip for a second. He was enjoying himself. I could see it clearly in his eyes: that intern, who took notes silently in meetings and always addressed me formally, was enjoying the situation like a kid.

“You know what I think?” he said. “I think you were about to come when I walked in. That your cock was rock hard and you were two strokes away from filling your hand with cum. And hey, I’m not the one who’s going to make you stop.”

I swallowed. Excitement and shame mixed inside me like two opposing currents. One told me to get up, pull my trousers up, and order him out of my office. The other, the one that had been keeping quiet for years, pushed me in the opposite direction.

“Take it out,” Iván whispered, leaning a little closer to me. “We know each other. No one can see us here. Take it out and finish what you were doing in front of me.”

I looked at him. Really looked at him. For the first time in the six months he had worked for me, I looked at him the way you look at a man, not an intern. The half-open shirt showed the hollow of his throat and the start of his chest. Veined forearms. That mouth of a pretty boy who knows exactly how pretty he is. And in the crotch of his trousers, a very obvious bulge he was no longer bothering to hide.

I unbuckled my belt without taking my eyes off him. Unzipped. Slipped my hand inside my underwear and pulled out my cock, hard as a rod, the tip shining with pre-cum. I left it out, resting against my stomach, and let out a long breath, almost relief, when the cool office air touched it for the first time.

Iván whistled very softly.

“Fuck, boss,” he said, amused. “What a cock you’ve got. Who’d have seen you and who sees you now.”

I spat into my palm without thinking and started stroking slowly, up and down, squeezing the head every time I came back up. The shame hadn’t disappeared, but it didn’t matter anymore. I had that guy in front of me, watching me jerk off with a face that mixed mockery and desire in equal parts, and my body had made the decision for me.

Iván put the folders on the desk, unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time, and took it off without hurrying. Underneath, his torso was exactly what the shirt promised: defined, broad, with a thin line of blond hair running down the center of his stomach and disappearing into his trousers. He undid his belt, pulled down his trousers and boxers in one motion, and stood naked from the waist down, barely a yard from my face.

My breath caught. The kid’s cock was thrusting hard from its nest of blond hair, thick, long, veins standing out along the shaft, the skin taut and the head stripped back a dark pink, shining with its own slick. His balls hung heavy, shaved, lifting and dropping with every breath. That cock wasn’t an intern’s cock. It was the cock of a young man who knows what he’s got between his legs and knows how to use it.

“Jesus,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

“Yeah,” he replied, with the smile of someone who’s heard that more times than he’d ever admit.

He wrapped his hand around it and started stroking slowly, the skin sliding over the fat head, never once taking his eyes off mine.

“Keep going,” he said. “Don’t stop on my account.”

I moved my hand again. So did he. For a couple of minutes, the only things in the office were the low sound of the video, our breathing, and the wet friction of two hands over two hard cocks. It was absurd. And at the same time, the most exciting thing that had happened to me in years. I watched the kid jerk himself off, watched him tighten his hand at the end of each downward stroke, watched a thick, clear drop leak out and run over his fingers, and I worked my own cock faster.

Iván took another step, then another, until he was pressed against my chair. I had him at face level. I smelled him. He smelled of expensive cologne, fresh sweat, and a young guy with nothing to hide. The smell of his cock up close was thick, masculine, with a sweet undernote of semen that hadn’t come out yet.

“Want to touch it?” he asked. “We know each other.”

I brought my hand up. Wrapped it around him. I could barely close my fingers all the way. He was hot, hard as stone, and pulsing against my palm as if he had a life of his own. He let out a deep, contained groan, like he’d been waiting for it for a while. I started stroking him slowly, feeling the weight, the heat, the taut skin sliding over the hardness inside. I ran my thumb over the head and spread his pre-cum over the whole tip, using it like lubricant. Iván put his hand over mine and set the rhythm.

“Like that,” he whispered. “Firmer. Close your fist properly and take it all the way down. You’ve been wanking alone for too long, Damián. It shows. It shows on your face.”

I didn’t know what to answer. It wasn’t necessary. I squeezed his cock in my closed hand and stroked him all the way to the root, until my knuckles bumped his balls. He gasped and pushed his hips forward.

He leaned in a little. He brushed my lips with the hot, wet tip, leaving a sticky trail over my mouth. He didn’t ask directly, but the question was there, suspended in the air between us.

I opened my mouth. Stuck out my tongue. I tasted him slowly, first the fat head, licking the salty juice leaking from the slit, then the whole crown, then a little more of the shaft, taking him in until the tip touched my palate. Iván tilted his head back for a second and let out a deep sigh.

“Fuck, boss,” he said, with a new tone, part mockery, part admiration. “Have you really been holding this back through so many meetings? So many mornings looking at my bulge when I come up to your desk and then locking yourself in the bathroom to jerk off thinking about me?”

He laid a hand on the back of my neck, not pulling, not forcing, just guiding me. I let myself go. I took him deeper. I felt the head bump against my throat and had to breathe through my nose not to choke. Saliva began to leak from the corners of my mouth, dripping in strings over my open trousers. Iván started moving his hips slowly, fucking my mouth carefully at first, testing how far he could go.

“Good boy,” he said, slowly, voice cracked. “Very good boy. Look at you taking it. Like you’ve wanted this for years.”

And hearing him say that to me, to his twenty-four-year-old intern, to that kid who until nine at night still addressed me formally, was what almost made me lose my mind. I grabbed his balls with my free hand, squeezed them gently, weighed them while I sucked him, and felt them tighten, rise against his body.

“Look at me while you suck me,” he demanded.

I lifted my eyes without stopping my head. His blue eyes had something lit up deep inside them, something I couldn’t afford to see again tomorrow in the office without shaking. He had one hand on the back of my neck and the other pushing his hair off his forehead, biting his lip, looking at me like someone looking at something that belongs to him.

“Take it out for a second,” he ordered.

I did as he said. His cock came out of my mouth with a wet sound and a thick strand of saliva still connecting it to my lips. Iván grabbed it and slapped my cheek with it, first one side and then the other, leaving my face wet with my own saliva and his pre-cum.

“The balls,” he said. “Suck my balls too, boss. Let me see you do it properly.”

I lifted his cock against his stomach and took one of his balls into my mouth, then the other, one at a time, sucking them slowly, licking underneath, running my tongue along the seam and sliding back up the shaft to the head. Iván started panting louder. He rocked his cock against my face while I worked his balls and begged in a low voice, mouth full, for me not to stop.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. I do know that at some point he took his cock out of my mouth, made me stand up from the chair, and gently pushed me forward until I had my chest resting on the desk, over the quarterly reports and beside the computer keyboard, where the video kept playing unnoticed. I know he pulled my trousers and underwear down to my ankles without saying a word. I know he spread my ass cheeks with both hands and stood there looking for a long moment, silent, before spitting on me.

The spit landed right on my hole and slowly ran down, warm, while he spread it in circles with his thumb. My whole body tightened.

“Easy, boss,” he murmured. “I’m going to prep you. I’ve been thinking for months about how I was going to prep you.”

I felt his tongue. Hot, broad, flat, sliding up and down between my ass cheeks, stopping in the center and pressing there until it worked its way in a little. I bit the back of my hand not to cry out. Years, many years, had passed since anyone touched me there. Iván ate ass like he’d been doing it all his life: patiently, hungrily, pressing his face against me, moving his tongue in circles, sliding it in and out, soaking me until I felt the wetness dripping down the insides of my thighs.

“I’ve been watching you for months, Damián,” he whispered from below, his voice thick, his mouth still glued to my ass. “Every time you walked past my desk in those tight trousers, I thought about this. About having you like this, on top of your own desk, with your tie half on, your face against the papers, and your ass open for me.”

I closed my eyes. Then there were fingers. One first, entering slowly, curling inside, searching for the spot. Then two, opening me, turning, until I started pushing back without realizing it, fucking his hand on my own. There was patience. There was a command that I hadn’t expected from a kid his age and that, nonetheless, fit everything I had sensed about him without wanting to look. Iván wasn’t the timid intern I had chosen to see. Iván had been choosing who and how for a long time.

“Ask me,” he said, while he slid his fingers in and out of me with a rhythm that grew firmer and firmer. “Ask me to put it in.”

I held out for a couple of seconds out of pride. Then I couldn’t anymore.

“Put it in,” I whispered against the papers. “Please. Put it in.”

He straightened behind me. I heard him spit into his palm, heard him spread it over his cock several times, heard him come closer. He pressed the head to my entrance, rubbed it slowly up and down between my ass cheeks, then pushed. Little by little. The fat head drove in with a hard thrust and tore a rough gasp out of me that I muffled against my arm. Iván stayed still for a second, letting me breathe, then kept pushing, centimeter by centimeter, until I felt his hips against my ass and his balls hanging against mine.

“All the way in, boss,” he said, voice thick. “I’ve got it all inside you.”

He started moving. At first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then driving back in to the hilt with a clean thrust. Then faster. The desk started creaking. The papers crumpled under my chest. My own cock, hard, hung between the desk and my legs, leaking pre-cum onto the carpet. Every time Iván buried himself deep inside me, a groan escaped me that I didn’t even recognize as my own.

“Like that,” he panted. “Look at the boss squeezing me. Look at him begging for more without saying it.”

He grabbed my hips with both hands and started fucking me for real. Everything could be heard: the hard slap of his thighs against my ass, the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out, his short gasps, mine muffled against the quarterly papers. I pushed my ass back every time he drove forward, meeting him halfway, colliding at the bottom, fitting together as if we’d been practicing for months.

“Stroke yourself while I fuck you,” he ordered. “I want to feel you come while my cock is inside you.”

I slipped my hand between my stomach and the desk, grabbed my wet cock, and started stroking in time with his thrusts. Every time he drove in deep, my hand went up. Every time he pulled out, my hand came down. I didn’t last long. The combination of his cock inside me, his voice in my ear, the smell of sex in the office, and the good humiliation of being bent over my own desk with my trousers around my ankles took me to the edge in a couple of minutes.

“I’m coming,” I gasped. “Iván, fuck, I’m coming.”

“Come,” he growled, fucking me harder. “Come all over the reports, boss. Mess them all up for me.”

And I came. With a long groan I couldn’t swallow, thick jets of hot semen spurting from my cock and landing on my hand and on the quarterly folders. My ass clenched in spasms around Iván’s cock, squeezing it with every pulse. He dug his nails into my hips and sped up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated, driving into me without rhythm, burying it to the root over and over. “You’re milking me dry, Damián. Here. All for you.”

He sank all the way in one last time, held there, and I felt his cock swell inside me before he unloaded. The hot cum filled me inside in several bursts, one after another, while he let out a low roar against my neck and bit my shoulder through the shirt. He stayed still for a long while, panting, pressed against my back, with his cock still inside me, throbbing slowly.

“Tomorrow,” he said when he finally caught his breath, and I could hear he was smiling without seeing it, “tomorrow you’ll be my boss again. You’ll ask me for the reports out loud in front of everyone. And we’ll both know what happened tonight.”

He slid out of me slowly. I felt a thick, warm thread running down the inside of my thigh. The video ended on its own. The screen returned to the browser background. In the office, only the air conditioner and his breathing remained, right behind me, setting the rhythm for everything that was about to come.

But that part, tonight, I’m not telling yet.