Photo Story #71

Charles Hardwick III had always prided himself on how he presented himself to the outside, always confident, always cheerful, and always impeccably dressed. He didn't care for labels, but he firmly believed in dressing smart and wearing an outfit that was crease free and sharp.

He had a reputation in the office for always being calm and together, but one Monday morning, that all changed.

As much as Charles always made sure he looked immaculate every day, he also didn't like spending money unless he absolutely had to. His grey suit pants had worn a little thin and he knew he needed to replace them soon, but given they still looked great, and they hugged his ass and thighs even better since his recent increase in leg day, he decided to wait a little longer . . . a decision which would be undoing.

Charles arrived at work wearing said grey suit pants, along with one of his favourite white shirts. He'd turned on his laptop, chatted to a few people and made himself a cup of coffee. He'd just grabbed a pastry from the break room, and was heading back to his office, when it happened.

The pastry slid off of the napkin without him even noticing, bouncing to the floor in the middle of the open plan office. A few people turned and glanced over, but no one paid much attention.

That was until Charles bent down to pick it up. He bent his knees and pushed his ass back, but before his fingers could even brush the pastry, there was an almighty RRRRIIIIPPPPPPPPP that echoed around the office.

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at where the noise had come from, and that's when the laughter began.

Charles hadn't just ripped his pants a little - he had torn them wide open. They were ripped down the rear seam from waist to crotch, and the crotch had torn open enough that his cock and balls flopped out into the open, hanging between his legs and catching in the light of the floor to ceiling windows.

Charles gasped and stood up as fast as he could, but by that time, most of the office were gathered around watching him, and half of them were filming the hot sight on their phones.

"You may wanna invest in some new pants, Charlie," one of the directors yelled.

"Or lay off the squats. That ass can't be contained."

"It's not his ass he needs to worry about. Did you see the size of his balls?"

Charles blushed furiously and ran to his office as fast as he could, trying to ignore the laughter, wondering what the hell he would do now, and forgetting the pastry that still lay upside down on the carpet.