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Hung guy steadily teaches small cock guy his place.

Don't go admitting to something you don't have to admit to, Mark."

As coolly and naturally as I can manage in my current state, I simply laugh ambiguously and grab the corkscrew, choosing not to acknowledge the fact that maybe you know about my feelings for you. In my head, however, I am frantically trying to recount every interaction I've ever had with you. Trying to remember how many times I made an ass of myself. Trying to remember if there was any incident that would have spilled my little secret.

As soon as the bottle is open I pour you a glass of wine. "No such thing as having enough!" I say, handing you the glass. "In fact, I need a drink as well!" I grab a nearby bottle of scotch and pour myself a glass. But the silence in the room is deafening. I can feel your eyes burning into me and I can see that little devilish smile on your face out of the corner of my eye, almost like you're sizing me up, trying to figure me out. I am just about to say something uninteresting about work just to break the silence when you speak up.

"Hey, have you ever had a tour of Jenny's house? Were you here for the office Christmas party last year?"

I take a long swig of scotch and reply in the negative, both terrified and excited about where this is heading.

"Come on then! I'll show you around! She might be a bitch, but she has a great house!" You take me by the free hand and drag me quickly through the crowd. I try to act calm and politely say "hello" to people as I see them, but my mind is elsewhere. All I can think about is where we are going. Where this is going. And how it might have been a bad idea to wear such fitted slacks. I am beginning to feel them getting tighter by the second and the fact that you keep stopping abruptly and pulling my hand into the small of your back, resting it just above your ass cheeks, is not helping the situation either.

When we reach the base of the stairs you release my hand and pause on the first step to turn toward me. "Follow me upstairs," you command and then turn to walk up the steps, I swear swaying your hips more than usual. The tone in your voice though, the fact that you released my hand, that familiar look on your all made this seem more like an invitation than anything else. But an invitation to what, I am almost afraid to imagine. By this point I am already achingly hard. My bulge strains against my slacks, threatening to rip them at the seams.

"Keep it together, Mark. Keep it together," I plead with myself as I watch you walk up the stairs. "She's your coworker and you're at your boss's house. Don't do anything dumb." I take a deep breath and push my bulge to the side, following you upstairs. With each step I take, I reassure myself that nothing will happen. Nothing will happen. Nothing will happen.

I see you turn into the room on the right and follow you in. Obviously this is the master bedroom. A large king-sized bed sits on the opposite wall, coats and jackets piled high at its foot. To the left is the master bathroom and to the right are double doors to what I would assume is a massive walk-in closet. You pull the doors open and step inside as casually as if you own the place. "Wow, Mark, look at this!"

I follow you into the closet and see you standing there, your mouth hanging open in an adorable shocked expression. "Isn't this closet enormous, Mark?! Look at these shoes!" You motion toward a wall covered in what seems like every possible style and color of women's shoes. "And these dresses! I never knew Jenny had so many clothes! She's pretty Plane Jane at the office, wouldn't you say?"

"Uh, yeah, I suppose." But in reality I never even stop to think about what Jenny is like at the office. All I can think about is keeping my hands over my crotch and trying not to stare too hard at you.

And perhaps it's the shortness of my response or the lack of conviction, but for whatever reason you look toward me.

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