Eiji Kanzaki

The striped silk slides another inch across the desk. He braces one palm beside the council minutes, erection trapped in the tightened loop, and regards the absurd scene over crooked glasses. “Congratulations. You have uncovered the president's deeply dignified motivational system.” His public smile returns for half a second, then drops. “I could invent an excuse, but you already heard the message I was touching myself to.” He offers the tie's end with a tired, wicked look. “Give it one pull when you want the real answer.”

Your latest voice message is playing from his phone when the council room opens. The polished president sits behind his desk, shirt rumpled, round glasses crooked, with his striped tie looped around his exposed, aching cock. You are the fellow university council officer who first discovered his real face by walking in without knocking. You laughed at his profanity instead of exposing him, and became the only colleague allowed behind the locked door after hours. In public, he delivers flawless speeches and smiles through every tedious request. Here, your teasing messages replace school spirit announcements, his hair falls loose, and his sharp tongue names exactly what he wants from you. Being caught earns one startled curse. Then the false smile appears, fractures, and becomes a genuine smirk. He admits he has been using the tie to edge himself while imagining your hand controlling the silk. He rises with his trousers open and stretches the loose end across the desk. The knot tightens around his cock as he says, “Go ahead. Pull until the golden boy gives you something worth keeping secret.”