Shop Assistance

Going shopping when you’re horny is a bad idea. Or depressed, for that matter. Standing in front of those long mirrors naked, surrounded by the sounds of others taking their clothes off is a recipe for a cum-streaked mirror. I can only imagine the face of the shop assistant doing the rounds of the cubicles and finding another load dripping down the mirror and onto the floor. Whipping out the cum rag and cleaning up the deposit of yet another horny young (or old) guy. If he’s straight, sighing deeply and cursing his bad luck to be doing this job. Or if he’s gay, kneeling down and lapping up the white slime before it hits the deck  and if he’s particularly horny, even slurping the precious alkaline juices off the floor. I’d be the latter. You don’t know who it came from, just that a cock squirted it, and that’s enough for me thank you very much!

I needed a new pair of slacks for a wedding. Another of my fuckbuds was getting hitched. One by one they give in to societal pressure – marry some cunt to fuck like bunnies for the first year, have babies and then end up hating each other for the rest of their lives. Ruining a perfect thing: a guy who understands you and knows where you itch and doesn't want to suck you dry of any last remaining joy in life. Only of your cum. Again and again. The way it was meant to be.

To make matters worse he’d asked me to be his best man. I was supposed to wait alongside him at the altar, pretending not to want to drop to my knees in front of him and take his beautiful dick out of those sexy tux pants and suck the last drop of jizz out of him for old time’s sake. Who the fuck cares how the bitch looks in her gown. They all end up looking like your mother in the end. And acting like it.

So you can see why I was in need of some welcome distraction. My buddy and I were looking for tuxedos together and I needed something to take my mind off things. He was off somewhere looking for a cravat or some such lame, straight-inspired accessory – she’d insisted he wore one that matched the bridesmaids. See what I mean? The noose tightens and he doesn’t even know he’s choking. He should be choking on my load instead, like a thousand times before.

So I'm in the tux department of an expensive store. I’m gay after all and I will look good even if I hate the occasion. I’m browsing, knowing more or less what I’m looking for when an assistant sneaks up on me. The first I know that he’s there is when I hear The Voice.

“Good day sir, can I be of assistance?” And what a Voice. Deep and brown and velvety. I turn around and stare into his name tag (Brad), because he’s more than a head taller than me and fuck me, when I look up to find his face, if he isn’t the most gorgeous straight hunk I have seen all year. Hair slightly too long, like a surfer, but not blonde like one. Full succulent lips surrounded by stubble on a strong face. Clear brown eyes, hooded by long black eyelashes and capped by thick, bushy eyebrows.

“Yeah, thanks, I’m shopping for some tux pants and I could use some help. I’m short and stocky, so the pants are always too long, so I need something that’s either short in the leg, or that can be altered.”

“Let’s go into the dressing room and I’ll do some measurements. Then we can take it from there.”

“Sure, no problem.” I eagerly comply and he leads the way to the booths. His ass is perfectly displayed in his tight-fitting slacks and his crisp white shirt flares gracefully up from his narrow hips to a pair of killer shoulders. You’d think, looking like that, that he’d def be gay but the whole vibe I get off him is pure straight jock. My gaydar is totally pingless. Just the way I like them.

“In here, sir,” he instructs and leads me into a free cubicle.

“Let's take off your trousers so I can take some measurements.” He doesn’t wait, but kneels down in front of me and starts unbuckling my belt. I know I’m going to bone up, so I try and take over from him.

“Thanks man, I’ve got it,” I say, and my voice is hoarse.

I fumble, nervous at the proximity of the hunky assistant, and he puts his hands over mine and gently removes them, leaving them hanging at my sides.

“Let me help you sir. It’s my job. I know just what to do.”

‘I hope so,’ I think to myself and I imagine dismembered babies to avoid the rush of blood that I anticipate to my groin the moment I’m in my jocks before him.

With cool efficiency he undoes my belt and the button on my pants. Then he unzips my trousers, putting his hand in behind the  zipper to make sure that he doesn’t snag anything vital. His hand brushes my dick through my jocks as he expertly slides my pants down, holding them for me to step out. Although it is clear that I’m chubbing in my briefs, there is no indication from him that anything unusual is happening.

He remains in that position and fiddles in his jacket pocket to find his tape measure.

I feel kinda awkward standing there in just my briefs and a shirt.

"Please spread your legs a little further, sir, so I can get into the creases.” I comply and he stretches the tape measure out and wedges the one end in next to my ball bag, which is nestling in my tight jocks. He politely cups my balls in his one hand pulls the package to one side to get better access. My dick is liking this big time and decides it's time to play. He ignores the rapidly growing cock, which is beginning to poke obscenely into the pouch of the underwear I'm now almost not wearing.

"I need to take a waist measurement. Could you please let me remove your T-shirt, so It doesn’t get in the way?"

Without waiting for an answer he takes hold of the hem of my shirt and proceeds to pull it upwards slowly, grazing my now erect nipples on the way. My dick lurches and I can feel a glob of precum burp into my undies.

"There, that makes it easier. Hold still, sir, while I measure your waist and thighs."

And that is what he does. He is cool and collected and nothing is overtly intended to be sexy and that makes it even more so.

“Thank you sir, I know exactly what to get, so I’ll bring you some options?”

I nod mutely and try to exercise all my willpower to force my dick down. This straight man is obviously not interested and I don’t want to embarrass myself.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises and off he goes, leaving me with a now fully hard dick. I was saving my load for Resh, my Indian groom, but so far he’s avoided any attempts to get him alone, being focused on the arrangements and spending every waking moment with my arch-nemesis, his bride-to-be.

The moment ‘Brad’ leaves the cubicle I figure that he’ll be away for a while to pick up the options, so I calculate if I quickly whip out my dick and jack off in my hanky, I’ll be back to normal when he gets here and be able to behave like a decent guy should. I turn towards the mirror and look at myself as I slowly pull my jock down to allow my hard meat to spring upright. I'm about seven inches and uncut and my dick is my pride and joy. I never get tired of looking at it and stroking it and this is what I do now. I turn sideways and see it sticking proudly out like a flagpole from the side of a building. It is quite thick and so the weight never quite allows it to stick upright. I've seen guys with cocks my size that do, but then they've got a curve backwards that works against gravity in a most enjoyable way.

The head is moist with the naughtiness of jacking off in a public cubicle with a shop assistant due to arrive back soon, so I pull the foreskin forward and backward in smooth strokes. For good measure I nip the lovely supple skin between my thumb and forefinger and pull it up as far as it'll go and then a bit more, for the delicious pain that it delivers. My hips are thrust forward as my jocks cup my balls over the elastic and I love the sight almost as much as the sensation. I can hear the guys in the adjoining cubicles, calling out to their partners and mothers and dads to get them this, or come and look at that, as families and couples do when shopping. I imagine that maybe some other guy is relishing the risky fun of jerking off in the cubicle as much as I am and is about to shoot his slimy seed over either the floor or mirror or both.

I feel my balls begin to tingle when there is a perfunctory rap on the door and "Brad' is back. I stand trapped in the headlights with my dick in my hand and Brad freezes in the door. Then he quickly grows some common sense (don't forget we're in a public place) and pulls the door closed behind him.

He leans back against the door with the slacks in his hands and seems to take a moment to come to a decision. Then he calmly places the hangars with the slacks on the hook provided and  steps up to within a meter of me. Looking me straight in the eye, he begins to unzip his tidy pants and proceeds to pull out the longest, thickest flaccid cock I have yet had the pleasure to see in the flesh. He is not satisfied with it just hanging out of his zipper so he undoes the belt and button on his pants and frees his balls as well. "Free Willy" might have been appropriate but for the fact that this is no willie.

Now he steps closer and puts his hand behind my head while he proceeds to manipulate his schlong to full mast. I watch it grow, mesmerised by the veiny tumescence as it expands in length and girth.

"I saw you bone up when I touched you. You like me, don't you gay boy? You'd like to suck my straight dick and suck my straight balls, hey?"

I nod, transfixed by his sexy mouth as he drawls out his suggestive conclusions.

"I'm gonna kiss your pretty-boy mouth first, get me a taste of a cock sucker's kiss before you suck my dick like the cum slut you are. You are a cum slut, right?" he asks redundantly as he devours my mouth with his hungry lips and tongue. I all but cum right there, his rough stubble painfully scratching my lips and his muscular kiss all but engulfing me as he forces my head forward.

Just as I'm about to pass out from sheer testosterone overdose, he puts his hands on my shoulders and inexorably pushes me downwards to my knees, where I am faced with the majestic monstrosity that is his horse cock.

"Are you Italian?" I ask, looking up at him past the salami that is obstructing my vision with it's mouth watering juiciness.

"Yeah, how'd you guess?" he chuckles. 

"Just lucky," I murmur as I try – unsuccessfully – to put my hand around the shaft and pull the angry, dark foreskin back to reveal the glistening red head of his man-cock. I put my hands under his oh-so-hairy balls and marvel at the weight and heft of the twin goose eggs contained in the leathery pouch.

I am quick to scoop up the globule of precum that oozes out of the long piss slit and for good measure swallow as much of the awesome machine into my hungry throat. I'd long since realised that I was born to suck cocks, being able to deep throat where other guys can only admire and weep.

"We don't have a lot of time Short Stuff so get to it."

For the first time I realise that the dressing room has gone absolutely quiet as those nearby have either left or are listening to my 'assistant' talk dirty to me in an ordinary tone of voice. I'm not sure which I would prefer. My cock is, judging by the rock hardness that is evidenced by the painful ache in my balls.

He's not satisfied with my progress as he starts actively fucking my throat, bypassing my mouth altogether. That's exactly how I prefer it....

Suddenly a voice from Reality intervenes. My groom, Resh, is looking for me.

"Tony, Tony, are you in here? I need your advice."

My stallion picks up that the voice means me when I hesitate.

"Don't stop," he commands.

"He's in here!" he helpfully informs Resh.

The door bursts open to reveal me on my knees servicing my straight assistant, throat snot drooling out of my mouth onto the floor.

Resh is not put out at all.

"Schweet, I see you found a dick to drain, cock-boy. Fuck, it's a beauty! Jesus man, where'd you grow that thing? On a stud farm in Italy? Here, let me help you."

Now you have to know that Resh had never sucked my dick at any time although I had sucked his many times. He had let me fuck him cos he likes something up his bum, but that's all!

The hotness index in the cubicle just rose by 100%!

"Yeah, Spicy Boy, bring those curry lips here and suck my dick. But first suck face with Short Stuff here so I can see you're into it." This is the same assistant who was 'yes, sir, no sir, three bags full sir,' not too long ago. I liked this 'Brad' better.

Now, again, you have to know that Resh has never even so much as hinted that he might be vaguely interested in snogging. I've never pushed the issue cos I know that sometimes that's a deal breaker for a straight fuck buddy, and I'd rather have the dick than the kisses, any day. However, against all odds, Resh fucking hurls himself onto me and we make out like there's no tomorrow. Shit, I should have pushed cos he knows his stuff.

"Ok that's enough Spicy Boy, now you suck Tony while he does me. Get on with it."

Resh is clearly turned on by the whole scene cos he tries to suck my dick right off while I get busy with Brad's prize tool. Resh doesn't even have his dick out yet, but doesn't seem to mind cos he makes a meal of my prong and spurs me on to heroic deeds with Brad's Italian Salami. Once again Brad is in a hurry and fucks my throat assertively, which turns me on  more than anything else so I feel my balls start to climb out of my piss slit and do their best to hurl themselves down Resh's throat. I come buckets down his gullet and I can feel him swallow as if his life depends on it.

I don't have a chance to enjoy it cos Brad pulls out of my throat, bodily lifts Resh off the floor by his elbow.

"Undo your pants I'm gonna fuck you now," he whispers and Resh blindly obeys. 

"Wet his asshole," he orders me and I am only too happy to comply. I honk all the throat snot that Brad's dick has produced and spit it onto Resh's winking dusky hole. I work my finger into his hot, hairy asshole and pull out, replacing it with my tongue. I lick, suck and smooch, one of the pleasures a straight man will never know, much to their sad loss. Brad isn't playing now, so he pushes me aside and lines his dick up with Resh's asshole and slides in with an assertive thrust. If Resh didn't know he likes it rough this was his moment of self-discovery. I put my mouth on Resh's uncut brown snake (which curves sharply to the left) and swallow. Brad is batting for a home run and with three or four deep, sharp thrusts fucks the cum clean out of Resh, who squirts his spicy indian spunk down my throat where it belongs.

Brad Roars and lifts Resh clear off the floor with his last thrust, then pulls him into him and holds him there with his arms around his torso as his orgasm dies. I am cleaning Resh's beloved curry dick off for old time's sake as I suspect this is the last time I will officially get to drain it.

There is a long moment of silence as we catch our collective breath.

"Well, sir, we'd better get to the fittings if we want to have the alterations done in good time," Brad says as he tries to cage his python again.

"Uh, sure, Brad, anything you say." 

And I do mean anything.

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