Temporary Arrangement with Mr. Greg | EP 4: Mr Greg’s Bulge

This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.

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I woke up with a hard-on. Sure, part of it was just blood flow, the usual morning wood, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Most of it was Greg.

I couldn’t stop replaying last night, him standing in the doorway, shirtless, chest gleaming faintly in the glow from the hall, shorts hanging low on his hips. The bulge pressing out front, heavy, obvious, impossible to ignore. And the way he didn’t flinch when he caught me, when I caught him. Like we were just two guys…bros, almost jerking off in the same house. No shame. No awkwardness. Just raw, male.

That thought alone made my cock twitch again under the sheets. Sharing a roof with my boss. My shirtless, broad-shouldered, divorce-hardened, boss.

I dragged myself out of bed, still half-hard, padding toward the kitchen.

Greg was already up.

Shirtless again, of course. This time wrapped in just a towel that sat dangerously low on his hips, damp from a shower. He was leaning over the counter, brewing coffee like it was the most casual thing in the world, like he didn’t know his whole body looked built for sin in the daylight. His chest was broader in the morning light, veins faint on his arms, the curve of his back tapering down to a trim waist.

The towel clung to his ass, and when he shifted, I saw it, the faint outline of his cock resting heavy against the towel, hanging long even soft. My throat went dry.

“Coffee?” Greg’s voice was rough, gravelly from sleep.

I nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He poured me a mug, slid it across the counter with a nod, nothing more. My boss. My fucking boss. Casual in a towel like we weren’t one slip of terrycloth away from total exposure.

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We had breakfast. By the time we were headed out the door, the shift was whiplash. The same man who’d been half-n@ked in my kitchen thirty minutes ago now stood sharp in a navy-blue suit, crisp shirt, tie knotted tight. Back to being Mr. Lawson. The boss.

But all I could see was the man under the fabric. The same shoulders, the same chest, the towel, the bulge. The smell of his soap lingering when he slid into the car beside me.

My eyes drifted down without meaning to, catching on his veiny hands wrapped around the wheel, the way his tight navy pants stretched over his massive thighs. His jaw looked sharp in the daylight, and with his eyes on the road, he looked impossibly sexy, like some untouchable version of himself.

“So, you sleep okay?” I asked, mostly just to fill the silence, because otherwise I was going to sit there and get hard staring at my boss’s legs.

He glanced at me, then back at the road. “Really good, man. It felt normal in a long time.”

I clutched my leather bag a little tighter against my lap, trying to hide how my dick twitched just hearing him sound so casual about it. “Yeah… I’m glad.”

We drove a little while longer, the car filled with the faint mix of his cologne and the clean, fresh scent of his shower. My head was buzzing with it.

“So, you got any plans tonight?” Greg asked, his voice easy. “Heading out with the guys from the office?”

“Not really,” I said, clearing my throat. “Just staying in. Relax. Enjoy the weekend.”

He nodded, shifting in his seat, his thigh flexing in those pants. “Let’s grab some beers then. Kick back. Just chill, you and me.” He said it like a bro would, like we hadn’t been jerking off in the same apartment the night before.

And that was the problem, he said it so normal, so effortless, like my head wasn’t still full of the image of his towel slipping on his hips.

“Yeah,” I nodded, forcing it out like it was nothing. “Sure, sounds good.”

But my voice betrayed me, a little too quick, a little too eager. I clutched my bag tighter, staring out the window like the city suddenly had something worth seeing. 

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The rest of the day at the office was hell. I couldn’t focus, not on emails, not on presentations, not even when people were talking directly to me. All I saw was Greg, the Greg from this morning; the chest, the towel, the outline of his cock. Every time he passed me in the hall, every time I caught the brush of his cologne, my cock twitched.

He was the same boss he always was, striding around in those tailored pants, sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins on his forearms, commanding instructions and charming clients. But I wasn’t the same. I’d had a crush before, sure, stolen looks when no one was watching. But now? Now I knew what he looked like stripped down to just his skin. Now I knew he was packing, heavy, real. That image sat in my chest all day like a secret.

And I couldn’t stop wanting more.

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Later that evening, I ended up taking the subway home. Mr. Lawson had a couple more meetings lined up, so I didn’t expect to see him till late. By the time I was back at the apartment, I was in my room, lights dim, scrolling through my phone half-distracted.

I heard the door open about an hour later. Heavy footsteps, the sound of keys dropping into the bowl near the entrance. I didn’t think much of it until maybe ten minutes passed and my door eased open.

Greg leaned against the frame, dressed down in a plain t-shirt and gray sweatpants, two cans of beer in his hand. His hair was a little messy, his face softer without that daytime tension.

He lifted one can with a tired half-smile.
“Down for a beer?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, sitting up.

He stepped inside, tossed me one, and sat right down on the bed next to me, fully lounging, stretching his legs out across the comforter as if he owned the space. He cracked his can open and took a long pull before sighing.

“Honestly, man… thanks for letting me crash here. I would’ve lost my mind if I had to stay alone. It really gets to you, you know? You spend your life with someone and then…”

He trailed off. The words seemed too heavy in his mouth.

I took a sip, keeping my voice easy. “You don’t have to hold back with me.”

He gave a short, tired laugh. “Yeah. Well… she was the one who wanted the space, you know? Girls’ trips, nights out, plans that didn’t include me. We hadn’t gone on a proper date in… what, eight months?” He shook his head. “I guess we just fell out of love.”

The beer can sat between his hands,. Then he let out a low, rueful chuckle. “And our sex life was—” He cut himself off, shaking his head again.

I turned toward him, speaking gently. “It’s okay, Greg.. You can be open”

He leaned back against the headboard, eyes on the ceiling. “It’s just… intimacy is a big part of a marriage, right? But whenever I’d try to… initiate something, she’d brush me off. Make some excuse. Roll over and go to sleep.” His voice dipped. “The last six months, we didn’t really…… you know.”

I nodded slowly, setting my can down. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how much that must’ve weighed on you.”

His jaw worked. He let out a breath that seemed almost relieved, like he’d been holding it for months. Then his hand moved, absently at first…resting on his stomach, fingers splayed against his t-shirt. Slowly, without seeming to notice, he dragged them down, brushing the waistband of his sweatpants. His knuckles lingered there, dangerously close, just hovering.

He glanced at me finally, eyes darker, lips pulling into something halfway between a smirk and an ache.  He glanced at me finally, eyes darker, lips pulling into something halfway between a smirk and an ache.

“So yeah,” he said quietly. “What you saw last night wasn’t your horny boss just jerking off…”

“Uhm… I didn’t” I stammered, heat crawling up my neck, my voice breaking as I tried to deny it.

Greg’s laugh was low, rough, too casual for what he was saying. “I mean—I was. But now you get why…”

“I… it’s okay. I totally get it sir. It’s just… different for me, you know? Seeing my boss…” My words trailed, my eyes betraying me, sliding down to the soft bulge pressing against his sweats, where his fingers had already started brushing like he couldn’t help himself.

I jerked my gaze away before my mouth could say something I’d regret.

He caught me though. He chuckled, shaking his head. “What? Like seeing your boss’s bulge?”

The air went tight between us, heavy. His hand lingered right there, just enough for me to know he wasn’t joking.

And for a second too long, I couldn’t answer.

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