his right hand went to the tip of my dick and he lightly ran them around the rim of my glans. He then put a finger over my piss slit and applied a gentle pressure. He was nibbling on my ear, and I pulled my right arm away from the wall and wrapped it around his head so that I could run my fingers into his hair. I turned my head and found his mouth in a searching kiss. He began to stroke my cock, and I felt my knees go weak again.

His left hand left its exploration of my chest, and I heard the sound of a belt being undone and a zipper being lowered. I then felt my pants and briefs being pulled off my butt, and my pants hit the floor. We were still kissing and he was still stroking my cock, and now his other hand was wandering all over my butt cheeks. He gave a sound of animal pleasure, and broke away from the kiss long enough to whisper, “What a great, round butt. I love good, round butts.”

I could feel his engorging penis pressing at my butt, working its way into my crack, and I began to spread my legs to receive him, when he pulled back a little and stopped stroking my cock.

“My limo will be down on the street in fifteen minutes to take me to my country home for the night. May I assume you would be willing to be my guest there for tonight?”

That was a good assumption.

A few minutes later, I was down on the street in front of our office building, where I found a stretch limousine and a big, black, bald body-builder driver holding the back door open. He gave me a smile and motioned toward the door with his head. I only had time enough to register that the back of limousine was roomy and plush, burgundy velour with wood paneling, and some pretty hefty throw pillows around, when Pete Peterson entered the limo and plopped down beside me. The door closed with a good solid sound, and Peterson informed me, with a proud grin, that we could see out of the smoked windows, but no one could see in—including the window to the driver’s compartment—and that the car was quite soundproof.

As the limo moved into traffic, Peterson moved to the jump seat facing me and said, “It’s a long drive; more than an hour. So, we might as well go ahead and get comfortable.”

He flipped a CD into a machine next to him, which introduced a sensuous sound, with a good beat to it into the compartment. Then he proceeded to do a private strip tease for me. First his coat and his tie, which he folded and placed on the other jump seat, then his shirt and his shoes and socks. He was probably in his late thirties, but he was in superb condition. He had sandy-colored hair, tending toward the red and hazel-green eyes that held a smile really well. His chest was well developed and the hair on his chest was a fine, blond-red color, descending straight down from his neck, flaring out over his chest muscles and then back down to a thin line stopping above his navel. He pulled his pants and briefs off and folded them and placed them on top of his coat and tie, and there he was in all his glory. His pubic hair was