“Aah,” the piano player stammered softly, although he was alone.
His left hand fingers drummed on the piano keys, all the while his saliva-lubricated right hand stroked his nine inch cock. It projected through his unzipped skintight pants.
Je had released his bugling cock from his jockstrap, it need attention.
His right foot rhythmically tapped the wooden floor, where his discarded cigarette butts were being squashed. The scent of the Ruby’s Jazz Club only intensified the experience. He now owned this place, and could do whatever and whomever he wanted inside of it.
Stroking my dick inside this once hell-hole that I’ve built from the ground up, felt good, he thought to himself, and continued, God, I’ve earned it.
His narrow yet long …show more content…
Damn, that burns. But it feels sooo good. Nothing better than clear distilled locale Whiskey.
Suddenly, Hank had to cover his eyes from the brightness of day as a squeaky dolly loaded with liquor boxes bursted its way into Ruby’s Jazz Club backdoor.
Dammit! Who’s the fool making rounds this early?
Hank hollered for someone to give him a hand until he realized, the two of them were all alone.
Fuck it! What time is it, anyway? Hank thought as he looked at his gold-plated Rolex watch.
Earlier, Hank had waved-off the staff stating, “I just need some time for myself. Thank you, all. Goodnight.”
However, that was four hours ago, after the crew closed up at 3PM.
Now, here was Hank McCormick. Orleans born and bred son with fifteen million albums sold, and co-host of top-rated America’s Next Voice. And, the solo-owner of Ruby’s, just a block from Bourbon Street, hearing the clinking sound of the liquor boxes being stacked by the bar.
Hank’s Southern charm roots began to simmer, this Delivery Kid had no idea of his disruption to the legendary, Hank McCormick.
“Hey! Hey, there. Could you keep it down,” Hank shouted across the …show more content…
Was he deaf? Hank thought to himself as the noises only increased, and he continued, Mother-fuck better not break any of them or I’ll have his ass fired.
Hank had had enough. His now dwindling hard-on was shoved into his jockstrap. He stood with his shoulders back at six foot three inches. Hank trekked to the mahogany craved bar, and began poking the Delivery Kid’s back.
“What the fuck?” the Delivery Kid said as he turned coming face-to-face to Hank McCormick, then he spluttered as he continued speaking, “Oh, My God. It’s you. Oh, my God. I can’t believe it.”
Hank looked down at this naive looking early-twenties kid, who repeatedly apologized for the inconvenience as he removed his headset from his ears that was plugged into his cell phone.
“I had no idea. Honestly,” the Delivery Kid spoke as he brushed his hair back, his jet-black hair twinkled in the Christmas color haze of bar lighting.
That caught the attention of Hank as he thought, He’s hot.
And, look at those biceps.
Looks like some kind of
His left hand fingers drummed on the piano keys, all the while his saliva-lubricated right hand stroked his nine inch cock. It projected through his unzipped skintight pants.
Je had released his bugling cock from his jockstrap, it need attention.
His right foot rhythmically tapped the wooden floor, where his discarded cigarette butts were being squashed. The scent of the Ruby’s Jazz Club only intensified the experience. He now owned this place, and could do whatever and whomever he wanted inside of it.
Stroking my dick inside this once hell-hole that I’ve built from the ground up, felt good, he thought to himself, and continued, God, I’ve earned it.
His narrow yet long …show more content…
Damn, that burns. But it feels sooo good. Nothing better than clear distilled locale Whiskey.
Suddenly, Hank had to cover his eyes from the brightness of day as a squeaky dolly loaded with liquor boxes bursted its way into Ruby’s Jazz Club backdoor.
Dammit! Who’s the fool making rounds this early?
Hank hollered for someone to give him a hand until he realized, the two of them were all alone.
Fuck it! What time is it, anyway? Hank thought as he looked at his gold-plated Rolex watch.
Earlier, Hank had waved-off the staff stating, “I just need some time for myself. Thank you, all. Goodnight.”
However, that was four hours ago, after the crew closed up at 3PM.
Now, here was Hank McCormick. Orleans born and bred son with fifteen million albums sold, and co-host of top-rated America’s Next Voice. And, the solo-owner of Ruby’s, just a block from Bourbon Street, hearing the clinking sound of the liquor boxes being stacked by the bar.
Hank’s Southern charm roots began to simmer, this Delivery Kid had no idea of his disruption to the legendary, Hank McCormick.
“Hey! Hey, there. Could you keep it down,” Hank shouted across the …show more content…
Was he deaf? Hank thought to himself as the noises only increased, and he continued, Mother-fuck better not break any of them or I’ll have his ass fired.
Hank had had enough. His now dwindling hard-on was shoved into his jockstrap. He stood with his shoulders back at six foot three inches. Hank trekked to the mahogany craved bar, and began poking the Delivery Kid’s back.
“What the fuck?” the Delivery Kid said as he turned coming face-to-face to Hank McCormick, then he spluttered as he continued speaking, “Oh, My God. It’s you. Oh, my God. I can’t believe it.”
Hank looked down at this naive looking early-twenties kid, who repeatedly apologized for the inconvenience as he removed his headset from his ears that was plugged into his cell phone.
“I had no idea. Honestly,” the Delivery Kid spoke as he brushed his hair back, his jet-black hair twinkled in the Christmas color haze of bar lighting.
That caught the attention of Hank as he thought, He’s hot.
And, look at those biceps.
Looks like some kind of