slowly unbuttoned and peeled off my shirt and held it out to inspect it. I was fully aware that my biceps were rippling in the effort and that I was fully exposed down to a slight curl of pubic hair above my trousers.

I made a few clucking sounds and acted like I must just be wrong, that I couldn’t find any coffee stains on my shirt. But, rather than put it back on, I draped it on top of my coat on the stall door and slowly walked toward Binggum. I approached the bank of urinals and, leaving two urinals between us, I moved in toward one—but not too close. I again turned a bit so that Binggum would get a full view of the action. I unzipped my tight pants and peeled them down onto my hips. My underwear of choice that day was a black net sock jock, which I proceeded to pull off of my long, thick dick and tuck up under my balls. As an added little ornament, I was wearing a black leather cock ring with silver studs at the base of my cock and balls. I thought Binggum was going to wet all over himself when he saw that. And then I sent a nice long piss arcing across considerable distance into the urinal, arching my hips toward the urinal and my finely muscled chest back, with my hands on my butt cheeks. I smiled, closed my eyes, and gave a satisfied little sigh. When I was done and had flicked my dick several times to prevent seepage, I slowly walked back over to the stall, faced Binggum, and redressed. I was completely brazen about the whole maneuver. Binggum couldn’t help but have gotten the engraved invitation.

The subsequent private session between CJ, Binggum, and me could not have been shorter, and Binggum could not have been more accommodating and congenial. When the last verbal agreement had been settled, Binggum said his secretary could type up the deal we’d struck, and we could sign it over dinner, if CJ and I would be willing to have dinner with Binggum in his ocean-side house that evening. CJ and I, of course, thought this would be a splendid idea.

Binggum went on ahead in a big, white stretch limousine, while CJ waited for the contracts to be typed and copied. I slipped off to the men’s room and exchanged my white shirt, tie, and suit jacket for a billowy cotton pullover peasant’s shirt with a deep slit down the front held together by a lacing and topped by a black leather vest. The shirt was opaque enough to show off my tanned chest and the tufts of hair that wound down from my neck, out and around my nipples, and then back together and down to my crotch. I then laced a pair of soft, black-leather chaps over my pants, brushed my teeth and my hair, and headed for the door.

While we were being driven over to Binggum’s house in a black limousine with smoked windows, CJ couldn’t resist doing a little bit of exploring of my body of his own with his hands and his lips, but he broke off before anything serious happened, as we both agreed that I had to be “up” exclusively for Binggum - at least until the contracts had been signed.

Binggum met us at the door himself in a loosely fitting cotton lounge suit, and I was pleased to see his crotch tent out as soon as