Day 2: Evening

The sun had set, casting long shadows across the warehouse floor as Darryl sat in his office, poring over the inventory reports. The day had been a whirlwind of tension and unspoken desires, and now he was facing a crisis that he couldn’t quite understand. The inventory figures didn’t add up, and he was growing increasingly frustrated with the seemingly endless stream of errors.

As he reviewed the shipment logs, he realized that something was seriously amiss. The discrepancies were too significant to be mere clerical errors, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was deliberately sabotaging the system. His mind immediately went to Travon, the man who had been so resentful and passive-aggressive from the start.

Darryl picked up the phone, dialing Travon’s extension with a growing sense of urgency. “Travon, we need to talk. There’s a major issue with the inventory, and I need your input.”

Travon’s voice was cool and distant. “Sure thing, boss. I’ll be right there.”

As they met in Darryl’s office, the tension between them was palpable. Darryl laid out the problem, explaining the discrepancies and the potential consequences. Travon listened, his expression unreadable, but Darryl could sense the underlying resentment, the simmering anger just beneath the surface.

“Look, Travon, I need you to help me figure this out,” Darryl said, trying to keep his voice even. “We can’t afford to have these kinds of errors. It’s crucial that we get to the bottom of this.”

Travon nodded, but his eyes were cold. “I’ll do what I can, boss. But I’ve been here for years, and I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s almost like someone’s trying to sabotage the operation.”

Darryl felt a chill run down his spine. Was Travon implying that he was the one behind the sabotage? Or was he simply pointing out the obvious? Either way, Darryl knew he needed to take control of the situation, to assert his authority and get to the truth.

As the evening wore on, Darryl found himself growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress. He stayed late, poring over the reports, trying to make sense of the chaos. Finally, he decided to review the security footage, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, that might explain the discrepancies.

He pulled up the camera system, scrolling through the feeds until he found the one that covered the loading dock. There, on the screen, was Travon, talking to Michael in a heated conversation. Darryl’s brow furrowed as he watched, trying to read their lips, to understand the context of their interaction. But before he could make sense of it, Travon turned and left, his truck pulling out of the lot a moment later.

Darryl felt a surge of anger, a mix of frustration and disbelief. How dare Travon leave early, especially when there was a crisis brewing? He grabbed his keys, determined to confront Travon, to demand an explanation for his behavior.

But by the time Darryl reached the parking lot, Travon’s truck was already pulling away, the taillights disappearing into the night. Darryl got in his car, his hands trembling with a mix of anger and something else—desire. He found himself following Travon, driven by a primal need to assert his dominance, to demand answers.

As Travon pulled into his driveway, Darryl parked a safe distance away, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched as Travon got out of his truck, his muscular frame silhouetted against the dim light of the streetlamp. Darryl hesitated, unsure of what to do, what to say. But the pull was too strong, the need to see, to understand, too powerful to resist.

He got out of his car, walking slowly towards Travon’s house, his steps muffled by the soft grass. As he rounded the corner, he saw Travon through the window, his back to the glass as he stripped off his clothes, revealing his muscular, hairy chest and broad shoulders. Darryl froze, his breath catching in his throat as he watched Travon step into the shower, the water cascading down his body, highlighting every curve and line of his physique.

Darryl’s cock hardened, the sight of Travon’s uncircumcised, 9-inch penis sending a jolt of desire through his body. He found himself stroking, his hand moving in time with the rhythm of the water, his eyes locked on the sight before him. He could see Travon’s hand moving, his own cock hard and ready, the water amplifying the sound of his strokes, the slap of flesh on flesh.

Darryl matched his movements to Travon’s, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched, his own pleasure building with each stroke. He imagined himself in the shower with Travon, their bodies pressed together, the water hot and steamy as they explored each other, their hands roaming, their mouths hungry.

With a final, desperate thrust, Travon came, his body shaking as he spilled across the shower wall, the water washing away the evidence of his release. Darryl followed a moment later, his own orgasm tearing through him, his cock pulsing as he spilled onto the grass, his body trembling with the force of his release.

As he caught his breath, Darryl realized the absurdity of the situation. He was standing in the shadows, spying on his subordinate, driven by a mix of anger and desire. But he also knew that this was just the beginning, that the tension between them would only continue to build, pushing them both to the brink of something raw, primal, and uncontrollable. With a final glance at Travon’s house, he turned and walked back to his car, his mind reeling from the intensity of the experience, his body still tingling with the aftereffects of his release.

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