Create Your Own Adventure - Part 4 (Patreon)

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Oliver felt his face burn as it turned a dark shade of crimson. He’d just ripped his pants open in the middle of the office, whilst wearing a thong. Not to mention that he was hard as a rock and had a damp patch of precum on the front of said ripped pants.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Before he could stand up and cover himself, Drake stepped up close behind him.

“Did your laptop bag rip Oliver? Did it catch on something?”

Oliver slowly stood up clutching his laptop bag. “Uh, yes, I think it must have done.”

A couple of the guys in accounting had wandered off, but the other two were watching with confused expressions.

“That was a hell of a rip,” one of them said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “The last time I heard a sound like that, I blew out the seat of my jeans at my son’s baseball game.”

Drake laughed. “I guess it did sound like that. Thank God it wasn’t one of us in the office.”

The guy from accounting slowly nodded, before grabbing the arm of his buddy and walking off.

“Thank you,” Oliver said in a whisper as he allowed his hand to roam behind him.

Unsurprisingly, the rip was enormous and there was no denying that his bare ass was on show in the middle of the office.

“Let’s go to my office, it’s closer,” Drake said. “Perhaps there’s something we can do to repair the damage.”

Oliver could hear the barely suppressed laughter in Drake’s voice as Drake stayed behind him and steered him towards the double doors that led to his large office.

As soon as they stepped inside, Drake closed the blinds on the floor to ceiling windows.

Oliver stood frozen to the spot with his laptop bag still clutched against the crotch of his pants.

“Are you alright?” Drake said, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I . . . I need to get home. Have you got something I can cover up with?”

As much as he’d always dreamed of being alone in Drake’s office with the blinds down, this was not the scenario that Oliver had in mind. He wanted the ground to swallow him up.

Drake chuckled. “Let me see if I’ve got any spare pants.”

Despite the humiliating situation, Oliver couldn’t keep his eyes off of Drake’s muscular back and his firm bubble butt in his tight suit pants as he walked over to a closet door and pulled it open. The man was utter perfection in Oliver’s eyes.

After a few seconds, Drake re-emerged holding a pair of tan slacks. “These are pretty old and I’m not even sure how long they’ve been sat in there, but its either these or my sweaty gym shorts, which I’m sure you wouldn’t want.”

Oliver stifled a moan at the thought of how incredible those shorts would smell. The idea of sliding those on, knowing that Drake’s sweaty thighs and ass had been clad in them that morning, was . . .

“Fuck,” Oliver hissed quietly as his cock throbbed and he felt more precum leak on to his suit pants.

Drake placed the slacks over the back of a chair and walked over to Oliver with an expression that could only be classed as mischievous.

“Maybe I should inspect the damage first and see if there’s a repair we can do? I’m sure you’d rather not wear my old slacks.”

Oliver attempted to say words, but only managed a strangled grunt.

“You just hold still, and I’ll check out how badly your pants are ripped. Let me see if we can fix them.”

In his current heightened state of arousal, Oliver knew that this was an impossibly stupid idea. Inspecting the rip would mean his sexy boss would be practically inspecting his ass, not to mention getting a clear view of the slutty thong he’d stupidly worn. He couldn’t let Drake near the rip. It would be too humiliating.