It was time for my year end performance review and I was worried. The past year had not been a good one, and although I had tried my best, a number of projects that I had worked on had been delayed. Mostly as a result of factors that were entirely beyond my control, but nonetheless my manager, Mr. Smith, could be unforgiving. Even though I had on several occasions dropped everything I was busy with to attend to something "urgent" that he dumped on me. Most of which, were not that urgent, and many of which were far outside of my job description and area of expertise. So there I was sweating through my review and trying to explain the delays in one of the projects. "It sounds like you're making excuses," Mr. Smith said, "I want to hear what you're going to do to rectify the situation." This was not easy, Mr. Smith was demanding and arrogant at the best of times, and although the delay in completion of the project that I was currently discussing had been caused by an unforeseen mechanical breakdown and that custom spares had to be ordered from the USA, it seemed he would not listen to reason. Mr. Smith stood up. "I have a proposal," he said and with that he loosened his belt and undid his trouser buckle. "I need some stress relief and Mrs Smith has not been obliging lately." I felt flustered. Was my manager propositioning me? A happily married, straight man? A professional in demanding position in a listed company? With his secretary just outside the closed door? "Um," I started, sounding and feeling flustered and confused. "I have needs," Mr. Smith stated quite frankly. "And as I am disappointed with your performance for 2016 I am proposing a solution to both of our problems." I did not quite know what to do, but I was in a tight situation and Mr Smith could make my life uncomfortable. He walked around his desk and stood next to my chair, his crotch close to my face and with that he pulled down his zip and dropped his trousers. There was a bulge in his underpants. I gingerly placed my hand on the bulge and squeezed slightly. I had never touched another man before. Never even seen an erect penis in real life in fact and here I was with one in my hand. He moaned slightly and I squeezed a bit harder. I knew that I would have to try my best. I felt repulsed and extremely nervous. And a million thoughts were racing through my mind. Mr. Smith is at least 15 years older than me. Grey hair, always well-dressed, neat and well groomed, but quite unremarkable otherwise, although at least he does appear to keep in good shape and is an avid cyclist. I stuck my fingers into the sides of his underpants and pulled them downwards helping them over the bulge. His half engorged penis was now revealed amidst a nest of salt and pepper, and his balls were large. The shaft was smooth and the deep pink head fully visible, There was a large, dark blue vein running up to the head. I placed my right hand on it and squeezed again, feeling it respond and stiffen more. I then pulled downwards and began to rhythmically stroke it using the same speed and grip that I would use if masturbating. A large drop of precum appeared at the tip and I now used my thumb to spread it over the skin of his glans. It felt weird to be stroking another man, but not totally awful and the warmth and hard, yet yielding flesh I held actually felt quite pleasant. More precum oozed from it and the head and even shaft were now quite wet. My own cock had responded to what I was doing and there was a considerable hardness in my trousers. WTF?! Suddenly Mr. Smith interrupted my thoughts, "Suck me," he said. What could I do but do but comply. Now I had nothing to go on, other than what I had picked up from my wife going down on me. I moved my mouth closer and placed my lips on it. I closed my eyes and allowed more of it to enter my mouth. I started sucking and at the same time moved my head forwards and backwards, sliding my lips over Mr. Smith's salty hardness. He groaned and said, "Harder." Again I did as instructed, sucking harder and increasing the speed of my movements. I placed my right hand on the end of the shaft and started using my hand to assist. Suddenly I felt his cock spasm and I managed to remove my mouth just as he began to spurt, but keeping up the pace of stroking using my right hand, his thick, gooey cum all over my fingers. I removed my hand wondering where to wipe it and Mr. Smith said, "Not so fast, you need to clean me." I took a tissue from my pocket with my other hand and wiped my right hand and then started as if to wipe Mr. Smith's cock. "Not with that," he said, and I realised that he meant for me to use my mouth. I stuck my tongue out and extremely hesitantly touched it against the goo on his cock. "That will do nothing," he said, "we don't have all day." So I opened my mouth and took his cock into it again. It wasn't so hard now and his cum tasted both salty and slightly bitter. I sucked and licked gently until I thought it was clean enough and then I somehow forced myself to swallow knowing that it's what was expected of me. Mr Smith pulled up his trousers and returning to his chair. "It's been a difficult year, but you've done well under the circumstances. We, however, shall have to keep a closer eye on your performance in the coming year."