Once he’d led me inside the cubicle, he slammed me against the wall and tore roughly at my jeans and boxers. The heavy, cold metal of the belt buckle thumped against my dick, and I moaned in pleasure and pain as he pulled the whole lot down around my knees. With his boot he flicked the insides of my ankles, first one, then the other, till my legs were spread.
He needn’t have bothered, of course; I’d have parted them willingly for him, and bent over too, without his large hand on the base of my spine, pushing insistently. I’d been hungry for his cock ever since I first saw it in profile, semi-hard and so thick, threatening to split the fabric of his suit trousers right there in the middle of a meeting. Now I was desperate for it; desperate and slutty, holding my arse open and begging him to fill me. He was in no rush though: as I braced myself against the wall, and curled my other hand around my throbbing dick, he stepped back and I heard him take something out of his pocket.
“I know you’ve been looking at me. I know how much you want it. I took this from your desk earlier. It’s so pathetic how you line your stationery up like that, just so, but on this occasion it came in handy. Do you remember how long your wooden ruler is? Yeah, that one”
“It’s…it’s eight inches”
“That’s right. Eight inches of solid wood. One for every inch of my cock. Now I’m going to slide it down between your cheeks…ah, that’s it, don’t flinch…and I want you to grip it for me. Show me how much your tight arse wants my cock”
So I showed him.