"The Taxman Cummeth" You’re sitting behind your desk in you..

"The Taxman Cummeth"

You’re sitting behind your desk in your tiny office. Stacks of tax forms tower over you as you type away on your computer, wrapping up the returns for your last client. Tax season is a stressful time of year for you, but this is your bread and butter. You shift in your office chair and sigh as you finish up, looking at the clock. Almost time for lunch.
There’s a knock at your door. You roll your eyes and look towards the silhouette behind the frosted glass. “Come in,” you say.
A tall fat man with a big beard enters. He’s dressed in a plaid long sleave shirt and blue jeans. A tattered baseball cap covers his hair. His big meaty hands clutch a folder full of receipts. He scowls at you.
“You the accountant who’s been leaving me all those messages?” he says, gritting his teeth.
“Are you the line manager?” you look him over curiously, raising your eyebrow as you swallow your spit. “Ah, yeah, just need to get your personal expenses…”
He drops the folder on your desk unceremoniously. “Here you go, Mac.”
You force a smile and open the folder, looking at the wrinkled, coffee-stained receipts.
“Are we good?” he asks impatiently, shifting his weight back and forth on his heels.
You flick through the papers. “Um, looks like I’m missing your 493-K. Do you have one of those?”
“My four-nine-three what?” He takes a step over to your desk, looking straight down at you.
“No big deal,” you say, looking up at him. Beginning at his crotch your eyes move up his belly. Like gazing up at a mountain you take him all in. You see his chest hairs curling below his open shirt collar. “I can get you one, if you want…” your voice trails off as your eyes make contact. Silence falls as you feel faint, in awe of his masculinity. You feel your dick throb.
“I’ll tell you what I want you to do,” he begins, reaching down to his belt and undoing the clasp. “and it ain’t doing my taxes…”
You gulp and lean forward. “Anything you want…”
He smiles and cups your chin. You feel the rough skin of his hand as he cocks your head up and makes you look him in the eye. “I think I need to make a deposit, get on your knees.”
As he commands you stand up off your chair and slowly sink to your knees. He comes around your desk as he pulls his zipper down, revealing a huge bulge beneath a set of cotton shorts. His hand pulls the back of your head into his groin. You inhale the scent of his musk and open your mouth, drooling on his underwear as you reach up with both hands to pull them down.
His thick hairy cock flops out and onto your face. He smacks you with it then pushes it into your hungry mouth. You feel the soft flesh swell and inflate quickly as you apply pressure, slurping his sausage and giving him your patented tongue massage. Your own cock hardens and strains against your pants, leaking heavy amounts of precum and creating a large stain.
“Mmm fuck, that’s it. Good cocksucker. This must be what they pay you for--”
“Mhm,” you reply as you bob your head up and down your shaft.
“Fucking sissy accountants, ain’t done a hard job in your life.”
His cock hardens and begins to hit the back of your throat, you gag as his dickhead cuts off your air supply. You feel your throat close up around his shaft, squeezing it hard and pulling him deeper inside. His cock throbs and stiffens further, filling your mouth and throat completely. You try to pull back but his hand holds you down on the base of his shaft.
“No, you’re gonna work for this. I got a big job for you,” he pulls your head back and pushes it down again, mercilessly throat fucking you with both hands as he groans with delight.
“Worthless number cruncher,” he says as he goes balls deep again and holds you down, savoring your throat spasms as he locks you into his pubes. The intense smell of his testosterone melts your brain and makes you feel limp and weak. He continues degrading you as he pulls out, pushing your shoulders back against the desk. A stack of tax papers fall to the floor as he straddles your head with his thighs on either side of your face. His hard cock points directly at your mouth. You catch your breath as he sticks his fingers in your mouth and probes you deep, depressing your tongue and opening your jaw wide as he smashes his cock in. He penetrates your face-hole with his cock and fingers, humping furiously as he tries to dig deeper into your throat. You gag and close your eyes as he assails your mouth, pulling the fingers out after another minute only to slam you into his dick—your face buried in his body. He clenches his jaws and groans loudly, unloading a massive load deep in the back of your throat. You instinctively gasp for air only to feel yourself being filled with jets of hot blue-collar seed. Down in your pants you feel your own load being expelled simultaneously. You whimper as you feel your cock empty out as his empties into your stomach. The sensation of helplessness as your body responds to his willpower.
After what seems like an eternity he slowly withdraws his softening cock from your face, leaving you covered in spit and semen.
He gives you a light smack, “good work number cruncher, I’ll have lots of jobs for you from now on…”
He puts his dick away quickly, wiping some of the juices off on a spare 1040. You sit back in your chair and try to hide your embarrassment as he turns his back on you and walks out of your office, closing the door securely behind him.

Note: Just wanted to have a little fun, so I put something shorter and less serious out. Nobody likes doing taxes, certainly not me. This way I get to vent a little and make something creative for you, hope you enjoyed!