The Penthouse (Part 2)

By JasCo -
published July 23, 2015

The Penthouse, and it’s owner, need their plumbing attended to

Maintaining my building, and each of the apartments, is a round the clock obligation that sometimes causes me problems.

I normally attempt to fill the building with various men with various skills so should there be any issues that need resolving it can be handled “in-house”.

I have personal trainers, chefs, cleaners, massage therapists, carpenters and even paramedics in residence to help with any need. Unfortunately one of my clients too a strong liking to my plumber in room 916, and offered me a price I could not refuse to take ownership of him, so his “pipes” could be attended to at will. Such a crude man was Mr Jones, I was glad to fulfil the transaction to not have to grant him access to my building again. He had no respect for my setup or my tenants, but his currency was more attractive than his demeanour and I tolerated him.

But I digress.

I don’t like strangers entering my building. This is why I have a stringent set of rules before and prospective tenants are invited for an interview. However when requiring urgent plumbing repair, not knowing who is due to arrive cannot be avoided and is a cause of anxiety for me.

I made it clear that when he arrived he was to wait to be buzzed in and strictly use the right hand elevator. I was pleased when viewing him on the security monitor that he was the most handsome and well built plumber I had laid eyes on and he would normally be a suitable addition to the building, but this was not on my agenda for today. I had a shower that needed fixing and that was all.

Unfortunately he was way more pretty than intelligent, and I must have had a lapse in concentration, for somehow despite my insistence, he took the left hand elevator. This blunder was only realised by me too late, when the “ding” of the bell alerted me, the door opened, and a messed up dazed tradesperson stood before me.

This was definitely not in my plans, and was severely going to inconvenience me.

I greet him warmly, shake his hand and point him towards the master bathroom. He seems to have difficulty thinking for a minute, then catches himself and heads in the right direction.

As he attends to his task I think, if the trigger word isn’t said, could he just go on as if nothing happened? But then will his behaviour cause suspicion and will it bring more unwanted attention to my comfortable lifestyle.

I could attempt a reversal of the induction. It was not an easy process and I had only done it once before. What if I make a mess of it and ruin things even more.

No I can’t have that. I can’t have that at all.

My pacing and panicking had obviously taken longer than I thought, for the young man had completed the repair and was standing still and staring blankly at me from the bathroom doorway.

My god he was beautiful.

His polo shirt drapes over his strong shoulders and clings to his slim muscular chest in just the right manner, while hinting at a firm abdominal region below. His shorts were fitting and emphasising the curve of his buttocks and manhood as if they had been sewn around his body specifically. I walk around his frozen frame and study every inch in a way I had not for a long time. I catch a glimpse of myself in one of my ornate mirrors. Was I drooling?

My God, I have to have this man. Before I could rationalise how this was meant to happen and I would deal with the consequences later, I let it slip without thinking.

I said the trigger word.

He proceeded with the same audition process that my prospective tenants, slowly and skilfully posing and presenting himself to me with the art of a seasoned exotic dancer. As he proudly manhandled his large thick member I knew that this time I could not merely be a voyeur to this process. My own erection, something that I had not experienced in an eternity (I refuse to take those pills) was willing me to do things I had only vague memories of. However I knew I would remember them quickly.

In the following uncalculated period of time I will have convinced him to impale himself on my proud organ, his firm gluteals welcoming my kneading and the tight ring massaging my length. I will have him in every conceivable position in almost every room, and when I finally allowed him to orgasm it was a sight to behold. Every muscle tensing and flexing as his body shudders and convulses and his seed showers us both (normally I find being touched by the warm fluid repulsive, but not this time).

I then convince him to sleep as my panic resumes and I need to decide where to take this mess I have got myself into.

The security buzzer sounds again.

I’m not expecting anyone.

In the display I see the last thing I wanted to see right now: the same uniform and logo of the plumbing company!

“Hey man, is my colleague Trent still there? We have another job he needs to go to”.

This man was almost as beautiful as the man I just conquered! Were these men plumbers or Adonis models? This one was a little older, but he had the same frame and fit of the uniform and I could suddenly understand why this company came highly recommended.

My lust had truly taken over my reasonable judgement and at this stage I realise there is only one option and one path to follow.

I lean into the microphone.

“Yes, he is here, I’ll let you in. Just take the left hand elevator up to the Penthouse level”.

I buzz him in and realise that Mr Jones may not be the only crude man I know. But at least I’d have two in-house plumbers and the need not to have this torment again, at least until the fuses start to blow again.

I make a mental note to modify my newspaper advertisement to highlight the fact that electricians would get priority as the elevator reaches its destination.

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