So I'm going to confess. I'm gay. As far as I know I have always been gay. I kept my personal life private. I was in my late thirties when I worked for a man who was top drawer, the smartest man I had ever met, and a great manager and leader. One day I was walking down the hall with him back to my office and it came out, "I love you". He looked at me, acknowledged me. He was gay too.
It happened at a get together I invited him to, with a group of friend from my private life, all male, all gay. He came over, brought some wine and I introduced him around. I didn't call him my boss, I introduced him by his first name. I got kissed by him, I mean seriously kissed and he grabbed my package. This man wasn't playing around, all Alpha and I was his target for the evening. I couldn't get over the kiss, it came back to me over and over, when he talked to another man, who I well knew was gay I got jealous. Don't be nice to him, but everyone was nice to him, he was the Alpha in the room and all the queers knew it.
I showed him the upstairs, where I had my room and small second room office. I got kissed again, this time a long hot kiss with a long hard grab of the package. I knew then that he was spending the night and I wasn't going to be just the guy in purchasing. I checked around and found a condom and some lube and made sure they were in the nightstand. I knew without asking that he wasn't going to be satisfied with just kissing.
As the party died down and the queers left to keep on partying, a couple of them asked me where I had met him. You aren't getting off easy tonight they reminded me. That man means business. We talked a lot, finished the wine, before he started to caress and kiss me. He took my shirt off and stood half dressed in front of me. When he lowered his pants and his cock jumped out, I instinctively, without thinking took his cock and sucked him. Make him happy is all I thought about, make him happy and remember this man was going to fuck me.
Fucking was face down with my arms around the pillow. His dick deep in me, he drove it hard to the point that all I wanted was for him to finish. But he would finish when he wanted to. I woke up alone the next morning and showered and he had been gone since early a.m. I tooled around, did nothing, tried TV that didn't work, went for a run, that didn't work. All I could think of was that fucking. The man owned me in the worst possible way.
Of course it is impossible for a man to have a lover boy working for him. I was moved over to another company. I'm the lover boy, no mistake about it. He likes good cooking and he isn't too crazy with all my queer friends, but puts up with them. They know he's the Alpha and not to mess with him, no matter how much they want to. He's not into queers as such, he wants spirit. A lover boy with spirit, but not so much spirit, one that knows his place with him. It's not hard for me to voice that I love him, it comes out easy. He is the type that shows and doesn't talk, when he is in the right mood and he wants to be inside of me, I can feel with each thrust, with each mount, that I'm his lover boy.
