I stood in thick pile carpet before the largest oak desk I'd ever seen. Behind the desk sat a man bigger than life: Stewart Jennings Killinger--Mr. Killinger, CEO of the biggest mining equipment company in the world, Killinger Equipment. I was relatively new to the company, still in my twenties, but on a fast track to top-level management. I rose through the ranks in record time and was poised for the key promotion that would set me and my young family for life. Mr. Killinger ignored me for several minutes while carrying on a phone conversation with his chair swiveled to present the leather back fringed with brass studs. When he suddenly spun around and slammed down the phone, I jumped. Mr. Killinger eyed me like a plantation overseer might look at a new slave. I felt like a slave, anyway. Once you move into a salaried position with the company, they work you seven days a week, sometimes eighty, ninety hours. Mr. Killinger pays his slaves well. Behind his back, we respectfully call him massah Stewart. I was nervous being scrutinized by the massah. He said, "Relax...Groves, isn't it?" "Bill Groves, sir, yes sir," I said. "I've heard good things about you, Groves, damn good things. I've been keeping my eye on you, son. We have a division that might get your name on it." My eyes opened wide. "Hold on, now. Don't go getting a hardon. I said might. Nobody gets one of my divisions until I know he is a 100% company man." Mr. Killinger rose and walked around the desk, saying, "Some men give lip service to the term, company man, Groves. I'm not one of them. When I say company man, I mean COMPANY man. The company comes first." The burly, distinguished older man began pacing back and forth on my side of the desk. "When I say first, there is no second. The company is the be all and end all of his existence. His role in the company defines who he is and what kind of man he is." He stopped and cast me a sidelong stare. "Are you a company man, Bill Groves?" "Oh, yes sir. I eat, sleep, drink...I live Killinger Equipment. Killinger is my life, sir." "We'll see, Groves. We'll see. If you're telling me the truth, you'll get a division. Maybe not right away, maybe not this year, but you will one day. If I determine that you lied, I'll fire you on the spot. Now, I'm going to ask you again. Are you a company man?" I broke out in a sweat. My tie suddenly felt like a hangman's noose. When my secretary told me that Mr. Killinger wanted to see me, the idea that I might get fired on the spot never entered my mind. I said, "Sir, I AM a company man." "You're married." "Yes sir. Eight years now. To a wonderful woman." "Cynthia, right?" "Why, yes sir." "And she bore you three kids--twin boys and a baby girl." "Yes, that's right. The girl isn't exactly a baby. She's four. The boys are seven." "Are they yours? All of them?" "Of course." "Cynthia is a very attractive and sexy woman." "I think so. I'm sure most men would think so." "I hear she looks like that brunette on the TV show, Charlie's Angels. What's 'er name?" "Jackie Smith. Yes, she hears that quite a bit. I think she's a dead ringer myself. If she were three inches taller and her waistline were three inches bigger, she could be her double." "She must have a figure like an hour glass." "She does, and she likes wearing dresses that accentuate that hour glass look. You know, skin tight around the middle." "She sounds like one hot number, but you don't think Cynthia finds any man but you attractive or sexy enough to take between her legs. Is that what you're telling me?" This took the wind out of my sails. I said, "I...uh, sir, it's not that. Cynthia is a faithful and true blue woman. Maybe you should meet her." "Carl met her, and we disagree with you." "Sir, I don't understand. When did Mr. Roberts meet Cynthia, and why would you think she isn't faithful?" "Groves, I'll ask the questions. You answer them unless you want to walk out of here right now and forget we had this whole conversation." I was in no way inclined to leave at that point. I said, "No, I'll answer." "I'm going to get personal, very personal. Are you sure you want to stay?" "I have nothing to hide, and neither does Cynthia." "When was the last time you fucked her?" "What?" "Was there a word you didn't understand?" "No..I, uh..." "Then answer the question." "I think a week ago." "How many times in the last month?" "Four, maybe three. I'm not sure." "What's a monthly average in the past year?" "I don't know, maybe three." "Maybe one?" "Some months, maybe. The average has to be at least two. Mr. Killinger, why..." "I ask the questions. Now, you're married to this gorgeous woman with a body that should be painted on a B-29 bomber, and you think she's satisfied with two pokes a month. You don't think she needs more than that, or that her needs aren't being met by someone else. That's what you're telling me, right?" "Well, yes." "Again, I think you're wrong. I think what you're getting are mercy fucks. I think she tosses you scraps from the table, and someone else is sitting in your seat, eating his fill. You'd fuck her every night of the week if she'd let you, wouldn't you?" "I suppose I would, but Cynthia's never been that interested in sex. She's just not that way, Mr. Killinger. Look, if you know something I don't..." "I know a lot of things you don't, young man. Tell me something. How's her pussy? Is she still tight?" "She's had three kids." "Is she as tight as she was last year?" "I...probably not, but..." "Show me your dick, Groves." I turned bright red and stammered, "Sir, I..." "Pull your cock out, Groves. I'm not going to suck it. I just want to look at it." I unzipped my fly and fished out a pathetic member trying to hide in my pubic hair. Stewart looked at diminutive organ and shook his head. "Put that thing away, Groves." I hurriedly did so. "Now, are you going to try and tell me that your cock stretched her pussy." "I don't know." "A moment ago you were absolutely sure that your cock was the only cock Cynthia is spreading her legs for. Now, you're not sure. I've seen a picture of your wife, Groves, and I know that woman is fucking her ass off, and if she isn't, she should be. If she's getting cock like yours, twice a month, and that's all she's getting, I'll eat this fucking telephone. If I have to eat this telephone, I'm going to be very upset with you because that's just a waste of good pussy. If you can't provide your wife with a good cock, you should see she gets one." "I don't know what to say, Mr. Killinger." "I've been asking around, Groves, nobody at Killinger is getting any pussy off of Cynthia. Wipe that smug grin off your face, Groves. That just means some outsider is fucking one of our women. I can overlook the lower ranks letting their wives stray from Killinger cock stock, but for a man moving up like you appear to be doing, that won't do. No sir, that won't do at all." My head was spinning. Killinger cock stock? Our women? I'd heard rumors about Mr. Killinger. I heard he could be bizarre, pushy, demanding, and ruthless, but this was too much. He thought of my Cynthia as one of "our women." Still, the man held my future in his hands. I was speechless, but grew numb when Mr. Killinger took out his cock and told me to feel it. I stared at the most impressive cock I'd ever seen resting like a slab of meat in Mr. Killinger's hand. Through a fog, I heard him repeat, "Take it. Feel this cock Groves. This is a real cock, a Killinger cock." I reached out and picked up the penis like a lump of toxic waste, pinching the middle between my thumb and forefinger. Mr. Killinger took my hand and placed my fingers around the shaft. With his hand on mine, he began stroking. I could feel the blood rushing in to fill the organ, and could feel it swell and grow. Within seconds, I held Mr. Killinger by his erect cock, a cock at least a foot long and as thick as my daughter's forearm. I could feel Mr. Killinger's heart beating through his cock, and though I felt ridiculous holding a man's penis, slowly stroking my employer's huge cock from the root to the tip, even after Mr. Killinger let go, I was not inclined to let loose unless told to do so. Despite feeling ridiculous, I wanted to continue holding, stroking, and fondling Mr. Killinger's cock. My own cock stirred with the excitement I felt rushing through me. Without conscious awareness, I was jacking Mr. Killinger off, right there in his office. We stood facing each other with Mr. Killinger's throbbing organ bridging the one-foot separation. The head of his dick rubbed against my belt buckle and made the belt, the buckle, and part of my pants shine with his precum. He said, "This is the kind of cock your wife's pussy craves, Groves. She probably found herself two or three cocks that will do, but she won't find cocks like these on the street." I could not argue. Still, as beautiful and sexy as Cynthia is, and as much as she likes dressing in sexy and revealing clothes, she just does not have the sexual drive or desire that usually goes with a body like hers. She could take sex or leave it. Mr. Killinger was right, though, she gives me mercy fucks, but once a month was more the average. Between fucks she'd pacify me with a hand job, and even for those she wears a latex rubber glove so the "messy stuff" won't get on her skin. I fuck my wife wearing a rubber. I couldn't help but wonder how Cynthia would respond to a cock like the one I was jacking off without a glove. Mr. Killinger pushed down on my shoulders, saying, "Go get a better look at it, Groves. Get a good look at a real cock." My knees offered no resistance. I sank lower and lower watching that monster cock rise higher toward my face. When my knees hit the carpet, the head of Mr. Killinger's dick was at my lips. He said, "I'll bet you can't even get your mouth over the head, Groves. See if you can?" My mouth opened of it's own accord as Mr. Killinger took control of his own cock. He pressed forward and the soft rubbery head forced its way inside my mouth, filling my mouth. Mr. Killinger began pumping his cock the way he preferred, saying, "You've got a big mouth, Groves. Imagine how my cock would feel to Cynthia's pussy. She can take it all, clear to the balls. I guarantee it. If she does, she'll never stray from Killinger cock again. There isn't a man in my executive suites that doesn't have a wife devoted solely to Killinger cock. Cynthia would drool over Raul, cream over Eugene, and she'll cum in her knickers when she sees Rambo Sambo. I hired them because they had big cocks--bigger than mine if you can believe that. I've got one drawing six figures that isn't worth tits on a Marine, but Raul can turn any lady into a whore after one fuck." I found myself sucking on his cock and trying to get more in my mouth. I never made that conscious decision; I just did. Mr. Killinger paused in his lecture to say, "I just want you to know, I won't let just any man suck my dick. I don't let outsiders, and I don't go for queers, but if I know the man is straight, and he's willing to let me cum in his mouth, and he'll swallow my load like a true cock-sucker, I won't think less of him. We'll just keep this between us, Groves." I said, "Uhmm, ughn, omh, yemmm summm." You get the picture. He said, "If you're going to do this, do it right. Get my balls out and massage them in one hand, and pump my cock with the other like I'm doing. That's it, Groves. That's how you suck a big dick, but get more suction going. You need to keep a partial vacuum in there. If you don't, when I blow my nuts, the shit's going to go everywhere. I don't want to soil my slacks, so be prepared to get all of my wad, Groves." Mr. Killinger's balls were huge. They filled my hand, and I must say, pumping that cock while sucking sure felt good. Having never had a dick in my mouth before, I wasn't sure I'd like it. Part of my passion was derived from the shear size and power his cock represented. A powerful cock on a powerful man is a heady combination. I couldn't help but wonder how Cynthia would respond to Mr. Killinger's cock, or to one even larger, one that can turn any lady into a whore after one fuck. The idea wouldn't go away, partly because Mr. Killinger wouldn't let the idea go away. He went on, "Where was I? Oh, you see, Groves, I can't have women who sleep with my key people sharing intimate knowledge of our corporate plans and projects, sleeping with outsiders and letting things out. For that reason, no one advances to this level unless he is willing to carry his naked wife into this office and set her on my desk for a Killinger cock fucking. They all did it, and if you are a company man, you'll do it too. They strip their wives in the lobby before every swinging dick, every secretary, and the fucking janitors, then haul their naked bitches in here for a screwing. When I'm done, they carry them out with their cunts gaping wide and leaking cum - Killinger cum." "I'll tell you something else, Groves. It don't stop there. Those wives either meet Raul, Eugene, or Rambo Sambo before or after seeing me. They all get screwed by them. When they get an itch in their twats, all they have to do is pick up the phone, or put on a knock-me-down-and-fuck-me outfit and trot their horny little twats down to the executive office building. Their husbands do a great deal of traveling and are away more than home. If I didn't keep this place well-stocked with cock, well, you see the trouble we'd have. Some of those wives spend more time in the executive office building than their husbands do. If you get an office here, you'll be seeing a lot of Cynthia. I guarantee it. Slow down, cowboy. Don't be in such a hurry. You're sucking me like a starving queer. "I see that notion turns you on. You may not like what you see if you've never seen her strut her stuff in public. You might see her in a mini skirt with no panties and cum running down her legs to her high heels, parading that shit around, proud as a god damn peacock. They do that, Groves. I don't know what it is, but when a woman gets a real fucking, she feels like showing her beaver. There's some that will walk these halls buck assed naked with a fresh-fucked pussy. We allow that here. I see that turns you on, too." The image did, but I knew Cynthia never would strut naked with a fresh-fucked pussy. Still, the fantasy was erotic and added to my arousal. I couldn't help sucking harder. He went on, "There's one other thing you need to know, Groves. Killinger women do not use birth control. If they get knocked up by a Killinger man, they'll be even more dedicated to the company. Women are like that; they'll remain with an abusive man, just because he fathered her kids. With a Killinger stud, they'll never stray once they deliver a Killinger baby. Between me, Raul, Eugene, and Rambo, we've fathered half of all kids born to executive couples--thirty-two by last count. The ratio would be ninety/ten if every couple came here without kids to start with. If you get onboard, you will have a much bigger family. My top people have big families. They're all company men. Are you a company man, Groves?" "Yemmmmm, Simmmm." If they could do it, so could I, though I didn't have the foggiest idea how I'd manage. Cynthia can be as stubborn as a mule when she's pulled or pushed. She'd have to want to be stripped and carried to a fucking before that would ever go down, and selling her on the idea of a bigger family would be a very big sale, but I wanted desperately to be a company man, and I sucked the head of the company's head cock to prove it. I suddenly got a mouthful of sperm. That was a weird feeling sucking hot sperm from a shooting cock, then swallowing. I never knew a man could deposit so much sperm in one ejaculation. I cum by the tablespoon; he came by the cup. I thought his sperm would never stop squirting in my mouth. I sucked and swallowed, sucked and drank. After the squirts ended, I nursed his deflating member while he milked the shaft. Finally, he pulled out and zipped up. I stood, wiped my mouth, and waited as he retrieved something from his desk. They were photographs that he slid across the desk toward me. I spread them out. All were handsome naked men with athletic bodies sporting huge erections, bigger than Mr. Killinger's. In addition, all were black men. One looked half black and half Latino or Indian, but they weren't white, and the children they sired certainly wouldn't look white. Mr. Killinger said, "Those are my Killinger studs, Groves." He tapped the picture of the half-breed and said, "That's Raul. Don't ask me what border he jumped. He doesn't even know, but the ladies love him. If you need help with Cynthia, get with Raul. If he isn't fucking her within two hours of meeting her, I'll hand you a thousand dollars cash. If he fucks her, and she refuses to see him again, I'll give you two thousand. If she fucks all three and won't let you publicly strip her and carry her up here for a screwing, I'll hand you a check for ten grand and still give you the promotion." "Mr. Killinger, you don't know Cynthia. I don't care how good this guy is, she just is not into sex, and she is not impressed by penis size. She is constantly telling me that the size means nothing to her, and that she prefers one that is comfortable." "And you bought that bullshit? Groves, you have a tiny dick. Women who marry a man with a tiny dick all say that. It ain't the pen, it's the penmanship. It ain't the sword, it's the swordsmanship. Bullshit! I'm not going to waste time trying to convince you. You'll convince soon enough. What I'm going to do is put some incentive behind you. You want this promotion, right?" "Yes sir." "Here's the deal. You have thirty days to set Cynthia on my desk, naked, ready to fuck, and willing to bear more kids--not your kids, Killinger kids, and most likely from one of my studs. They breed most of the kids, Rambo Sambo especially. He has this thing wired. When those bitches are ovulating, Rambo Sambo knows it, and does the job. As you can see, he's blacker than ink, and so are his offspring." "Mr. Killinger, Cynthia's family comes from the deep south. Cynthia doesn't have a prejudiced bone in her body, but if she gave birth to a black baby, she'd be ostracized. Her family means a great deal to her, and they all live around here. That fact alone will nix this deal." "Groves, again, you don't know Cynthia as well as you think. She probably masturbates to the idea of getting raped by a big black, getting pregnant by him, then delivering a black baby. They cum thinking about the scandal, those southern belles especially. Rambo is so successful because he gets inside information on ovulation times. Where do you suppose he's getting that inside information, from the husbands? Cynthia would love to hand you a jet black baby, and she's willing to deal with her outraged family in order to have that pleasure. You don't know shit about women, Groves. Then again, you can't learn if you're born with a tiny white dick." "I can appreciate that there's a lot I don't know about women, but I know Cynthia like my own sister, better. We've dated steadily since junior high, and we were virgins when we married. We have both remained faithful, so she knows what I know, and I know what she knows. I know exactly how she'll react to Raul's advances, and to the idea of bearing another man's child of any color. I might win the thousand dollar bet, but will that mean this is as far as I go up the ladder?" "Groves, I said I was going to give you incentive. If you fail to move up by either method, either by getting her to screw all three and refusing the rest, or by carrying her in here fully ready to cooperate. If you fail, I'm jerking the ladder out from under you. I'll let you go. I'd hate to lose a good man, and a good heterosexual cocksucker, but I think you need the incentive in order to succeed. I don't think you like the idea of your wife screwing these men or bearing their black bastards. A company man would put those concerns behind him for the welfare of the company. I told you before we began that you'd either leave a company man or unemployed. You wanted to proceed. Well, there's your incentive. Handle this any way you want, but you have thirty days to set Cynthia's naked ass on my desk, or clear yours. We have nothing further to discuss. My secretary can put you in touch with Raul. Good luck."