Str8 Part Two - Eight Loving Arms

I’m an adult, Marco told himself as he looked to the window of the adult sex toy store, adults do this sort of thing all the time.  It doesn’t mean anything.  But Marco was also the man who ordered all of his condoms and lubricants online so he didn’t have to deal with a cashier.  He pushed open the car door, closed it, locked the car, and kept moving his feet.  This was a virginal experience and he felt ashamed.  But he was doing this for Heather, he told himself, and he’d do anything for her.  So what if he had to confront an embarrassing situation, he told himself, the other night he just talked about anal sex with his gay, best friend.  I’ll do it.  I’m doing it.  But he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder as he entered.

He stepped into the store and for a moment he almost turned and ran out but decided that would be more embarrassing so he stepped in further.  But he froze in his tracks when he looked to the counter and spotted a man and a woman behind it.  Which do I pick?  Which will pick me?  I’m so embarrassed I must be the color of a tomato.  He looked down to the carpet, his shoes, and moved his feet until he was the farthest away he could get to the farthest wall, and he found himself standing in front of a wall of sex toys, some he had seen but many he had not.  And there were these pup masks, horse masks, bull whips hung loose for testing and for a moment he panicked about accidentally brushing against it.  Would that tool of pain feel so good dragged across his skin?  He reached to his chest and started to turn his feet.  But where do I go?  He needed help.  But which to choose?

The obvious choice would be the woman but she reminded him too much of Heather so he looked to the man who stood in a slightly effeminate way, perfect, reminds me of Roger, he thought.  He looked between them then settled on the man, Clark.

“This is a penis thing,” he whispered to his coworker.

“Don’t you think that straight boy would be more comfortable with me?”

“Look at him, a doe in front of a hunter, you’d freak him out because he’d be thinking about sex.  I’m none threatening because he doesn’t want to have sex with me, even though I desperately want to have sex with him.”

“If he runs-”

“Please, I’m a penis professional,” he replied.  “I’ll be right there,” he yelled across the store before stepping from behind the counter.  He moved to Marco, clasped his hands together lightly.  “How can I help you sir?”

“I’m looking for a gift for my wife.  This is kind of the last place I want to be but I’d do anything for her, so it’s like, but I don’t know what she wants.  I mean we never really talked about it, well, not completely.  I mean she’d recommend something and maybe I’d say something but, you know, it wasn’t like serious.  We’ve always had great sex.”
That last word escaped him as if it were his last breath and he placed his hands on his knees as he bent over gasping for breath.

“Can I sit down somewhere?”

“Come with me dear,” Clark replied before walking away and motioning with his finger for him to follow.  “Can we get this man some water?”

Marco moved across the store to the counter where he found a stool and sat on it.  He leaned against the counter until the woman, Jennifer, handed him a bottle of water.  Clark motioned for her to leave them and for a moment she resisted until he made a more insistent motion making her smirk as she stepped away.

“I’m sure you two have great sex,” Clark said, “but you, or her, well you want something a little more, like a spice.  There’s nothing wrong with a spice.”

“My favorite meal is a hamburger and fries,” Marco replied.

“A plain boy then,” Clark said, “you really are vanilla.  Okay, well, let’s think.  Okay, think of it like this gift you’re giving your wife, but it’s like Christmas everyday for her, whatever it is.  Whenever the two of you, or just her, use this thing it’s like Christmas morning.”

“Okay, I can think about it that way,” Marco said.

He downed the last of the water and gathered his breath.  They started to walk.  And for once as he looked at the items he started to laugh.  It wasn’t the kink, the toy just looked ridiculous.

“See, we can all laugh a little about sex,” Clark said, “It’s not such a big deal.”

“I feel better now,” Marco replied, “really I do.”

“Okay, well, let’s just see if there’s something that gets your attention.”

And they walked up and down the aisles mostly pointing out different things to each other.  Back at the wall Clark got Marco to run the bull whip over his forearm.  Marco giggled a little and put it back immediately as if it had stirred something in him and he was afraid.  They explored every aisle, every display, it felt like they had been through every turn in a maze and yet were still lost.  Finally Clark stopped him in the back of the store away from the few customers who had stopped in while they were browsing.

“What is it you’re looking for?  We’ve passed the whips and chains, handcuffs, and you didn’t want any of that.  You said you want a present for your wife.  Is there something special you want?”

“Yes, I need something special, something really special.”

“What are we talking about?”

“I want something different.  I want something special.”

“How much do you got?”

“I’ve got a thousand dollars to spend.”

“Really?  Oh, well that changes things, come with me.”

And there it was, a curtain if beads Marco hadn’t seen previously.  Clark stepped through and Marco followed after.  This back room was dark and dusty, lit by different colored bulbs, red lights, purple lights, orange.  The room was illuminated yet it had these dark shadows and he couldn’t tell just how big the room was.

“Over here,” Clark waved him to a table where it looked like there was a sculpture, an octopus, carved from wood.  “Do you believe in magic?”

“I mean I’m skeptical, not like real magic, but I guess I’m agnostic.  I want it to be real.  I guess.  What are you talking about?”

“Right here is a gift guaranteed to grant your wife’s best fantasy.  All of the way from Japan, this little sculpture is capable of completely satisfying your wife.  What do you think?”

“It looks like a piece of wood.  It’s a nice piece of wood, but I don’t know.  She’d hate me if I got her just this.”

“Is there something else she wants?”

“Look, I didn’t feel like saying this out there, but she wants to fuck me in the ass.”

“Oh, well, I’ll tell you what.  If you buy this sculpture and promise she’ll give it a try then I’ll throw in the small and large dildos as well as a harness.”

“Really?  But I have to pay for that?”

Clark ran his hand along the statue from one end to the other as if caressing a pet.  Marco tightened his shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll give you seven hundred fifty dollars worth of stuff, so really it will just cost you two hundred and fifty dollars.”

“I guess,” Marco squeaked.

“I know if I just go home with just this thing she’ll definitely shove it up my ass.”

Clark let out a laugh and clapped his hands.

“Oh she will be so satisfied.  I’ll write out the directions for her.”

Marco felt completely happy as he paid for everything and left the store with a bit of pep in his step.  He had been to his first adult store and it was fun, plus he got such a good deal.  He had stopped counting how much free stuff he was getting.  The man seemed to be picking it out more from amusement and joy than anything else.  He put his bag in the trunk and felt satisfied that he’d have a story to tell.

But the feeling was completely opposite when he got home.  Despite the fact that his wife wasn’t home he ran through the rooms to get to the bedroom where he dumped out the bag on the bed.  He saw a few obvious things: the statue and a pair of cuffs, but then he started looking through everything else and his heart sunk.  Everything was for her, leather harness, a collection of dildos, small, medium, large, and holy shit, he picked it up.  How did he get this in here?  There’s no way I’m taking this, Marco said to himself, okay, new game plan, he told himself.

Just the octopus statue.  This was it.  This was just for her, some kind tentacled little toy that would satisfy her most secret desire.  He’d try this first and hide the rest.  And if she really hated it, like really hated it, then he could think about the other things.  So he picked it up and set it aside before she came back and walked in on him. He hid all of the other toys first, then hid the statue where she couldn’t find it easily but it was still convenient for him.  He paced the floors, played videogames, and even washed the dishes.  He told himself repeatedly not to make a big deal of it but he couldn’t keep the secret and as soon as she got home he took her to the bedroom and got it out for her.

“What’s this?”

“It’s supposed to fulfill your desires.”

“It’s wood.”

“There’s instructions.”

“Okay,” she said dryly.

“Do you like it?”

“What’s it supposed to do?”

“I just told you.”

“Well, I’ll play with it later I guess,”

And she tossed it on the bed and they left it there.  They went into the kitchen, cooked a meal, ate dinner, and it all felt so normal as they made their way to the couch with a glass of wine in hand.  She rubbed at his chest, rubbed at his crotch, then looked him in the eye.  He was ready for it.

“Why am I bothering with you when I have a piece of wood in the bedroom?” she asked before getting up and stepping away.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed,” she said.

Marco felt his erection begin to deflate, ejaculate leaked against his underwear.  He wanted her back and yet he knew she was just teasing him.  She’d keep up this ruse for an hour or so then when he got to bed she’d want him.  And she walked away so he opened his jeans and began to rub at his dick as he changed the video on the television.  He heard her close the bedroom door and he shrugged it off.  But it wasn’t long before he was paying more attention to the movie than his dick and it shrunk in his lap until his hand was out and slick in the palm and fingers with cum.  He sat there like that for almost an hour when the credits ran and he found himself sitting there in his living room like that, his jeans open, dick peaking out of his underwear.  He got up, fastened his jeans, took care of everything including locking the door and went to the bedroom where he was disappointed to find Heather was asleep with a book in one hand and her vibrator in the other.

He picked up the octopus statue and carried it into the bathroom.  He ran some water in the tub and dropped it inside and he looked over the rest of the directions.  Though they were mostly about just relaxing and reaching some kind of meditative state.  He laughed it off.  Looks like I got a new bath tub toy, he laughed himself as he watched it float back and forth with the currents of the water.  He stripped down, tested the water, then slowly stepped into it before lowering himself down.  The warmth was almost too much as it came up just over his shoulders to his neck.

The house didn’t have much but they bought it for two features.  The dining room where they imagined having dinner with friends and family, and the bathtub, one of those old cast iron, deep tubs.  He closed his eyes and covered them with a damp cloth.  He felt as if he had lost all cohesion as he felt the warmth.  He stretched and rubbed over his body.  For a moment he completely forgot about the octopus until he felt it bump into his toe, a wooden log in his bath, she hated it so now he’d definitely have to tell her about the other toys, well maybe not all of them.

He could introduce them slowly, maybe the cuffs, then maybe some of the whips.  He could never imagine himself striking her but he’d do it for her, and that’s when he felt it, something around his ankle and yet it felt so light it was just something he had imagined.  But then something tickled his thigh, his side, and his ribs.  He could imagine Heather there, a firm grip on his foot, her hands up his legs, fingers tip toed their way up his ribs and dug into his arm pits with her thumbs, her body on top of his, legs against legs, chest against chest, the warmth and softness against his hard dick pressed it against his belly.

Kisses all over his body, the skin sucked until he squealed a little with each one up and down his body like little fireworks, a new one went off before the last had faded.  Held down, kissed all over, lips to his lips but there was no breath just something squishy that pushed into his mouth, thicker than a tongue he thrashed about until he knocked the rag from his eyes and looked to the foot of the tub where he saw it.  He saw that octopus statue but it wasn’t a piece of wood any longer, no it was a real creature and it had eight tentacles, two that ran along the side of the water to his wrists where they grappled him, six more down in the water slowly taking hold of parts of his body, his ankles, his thighs, his ribs.

They stretched as they secured each part of him and he began to squirm and try to fight back but it was strong, much stronger than him, and he felt himself being stretched, his legs pulled up out of the water as a tentacle reached that most private part of his body.  He felt it touch him right there.  His soft, tight hole, but it was slick and narrow enough.  It felt like a tongue at first but then it felt different as it pushed inside of him.  He tried to catch his breath and cry out but the one in his mouth pushed into his throat, back and forth so that he could barely breath.  He was getting it in both ends.  The little ridges under the tentacle tickled his skin as they ran over his body, especially his nipples.  He felt so full.  He felt so unable to stop it.  Yet it felt so good, his dick stuck out from his body, so hot, so stiff.  He felt it lift him from the bottom of the tub.  He was now completely controlled by it.

There was no fear of the past and no fear of the future.  He felt it manipulating him and he loved it.  It was indeed his wife’s greatest fantasy, him getting it from both ends.  He felt the changes of girth as the tentacle moved in and out of him, touched him everywhere.  And it happened.  His dick fired.  And for a moment he thought it would end, but then he felt the octopus tighten its grip.

Round Two, he thought, and it was.  He felt every sensation, slow and building, endless.  He gagged on the tentacle in his mouth so it pulled out, slapped at his face as he chased it just to feel it again inside of him, feel his lips stretched.  It pulled from his anus and he wanted it back, loosened its grip and he tried to hold onto it. He thrashed with it, and it happened again.  He had another orgasm and he fell asleep.
When he awoke in the cold water, the wooden octopus hit against his toe and he pulled the rag from his eyes.  There was a knock on the door and Heather opened it.  She looked sleepy.

“Are you okay?  I heard you splashing around in here.”

“Fine, I just had a dream, must have thought I was drowning,” he joked, but then he felt that octopus hit his toe.”

“Well, you splashed water everywhere,” she said, “and I’m not cleaning it up.  Oh look, you’ve got that stupid thing in the water.  Was it any good?”

“Honey, there’s something I need to tell you,” he forced from his throat, “I got you some toys, sex toys, lots of them.  I want to try it.  I got you cuffs, a harness, dildos, everything, and I want it.  I want you to fuck me.”

She became the happiest he had ever seen.  She moved to him, kissed him on the lips.  She reached down to his dick and teased him for a moment before hinting that he should follow.  “Stay naked,” she said.  So he got out of the water, dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.

Three hours later, the wooden octopus was above the fireplace in the living room, it looked down over him as he was on his hands and knees, locked into position with cuffs and rope, a ball gag in his mouth as he took the biggest dildo.  He felt it deep inside of his body, his hard dick rubbed between his thighs, his wrists bound to his thighs, ankles bound together.  He was completely vulnerable, stretched and split open.  Heather pushed inside of him completely to the base, tapped at his balls with her hand, stroked him to his third orgasm of the night.

Part 01: https://brieflytoldstories.blogspot.com/2018/09/str8-ch-01-cfnm-tentacle-male.html
Find this and other stories as downloadable files on my Patreon Campaign: https://www.patreon.com/brieflytoldstories

Johnny Seed Ch 02 - Smell

Surrounded as he was by strangers Johnny felt like even if this was a

mistake that he was glad to be there.  Take it one moment at a time,

he told himself, this is the beginning of an adventure.  And yet he

couldn’t help but think of Greg’s warning, there was danger too.  He

looked around and identified the homeless woman in the corner reading

a newspaper.  She had to intent on going anywhere else.  He spotted

the family of four who sat a few tables away, the overworked father

and the desperate, anxious mother, two boys who just wanted to play.

He spotted the man in a suit and tie who ate quickly then dashed out

the door eager to make some money.  There was an old couple, a man and

woman who seemed to be bonded together, who watched each other and

moved in compliment with each other.

Staying at home would have been easy.  He could be on the couch right

now playing videogames and trash talking his enemies.  He could be out

on his skateboard riding along the sidewalk killing time.  Killing

time, that’s all he would be doing.  He had told his mother what he

was going to do.  She didn’t believe him, so that morning he left a

letter for her.  He said he was going to take the long way to college,

though he still wasn’t sure he was going to end up there.  But even as

he sat there he thought about standing on the side of the road.

Thirty miles could be so far away with just two feet, and three

months... three months meant ninety days of finding breakfast, lunch,

dinner, a roof to put over his head, but most important of all a way

to travel, a way to see the country.  Whatever it was, whatever he had

to do, it had to be better than just sitting around and waiting,

keeping up pretenses, keeping everyone happy.

Travel would be good for him, he told himself, anything to stay away

from the trouble he had almost caused, anything to stay away from

Peter and his father Howard.  What would they think of him going

missing?  Would they mourn him?  Would they share their grief?  He had

really put himself between a rock and a hard place with them.

Just two months until graduation, that’s when it happened.  Peter and

Johnny had been on the basketball court playing against each other,

jerseys and shorts, a quick game so they wouldn’t be bored.  That’s

when Howard showed up in his new Mustang.  He honked at the boys to

get their attention.  Peter saw his father in the car and dropped the

ball.  It hit his foot and rolled across the court into the fence.

“It’s my father,” he said, “and he’s got a new car.”

Johnny looked over to where his friend stared and he made it out

instantly.  There Howard sat in the driver’s seat with a big smile on

his face.  He waved at the boys to come over.  He was eager for them

to see it, eager for them to praise him for buying it, be in awe that

he could afford such a thing.  Johnny shrugged off the awkwardness of

the situation and said, “let’s go see it.”

“Another one of my father’s mid-life crisis mistakes,” Peter replied,

“I wonder how long my mom is going to let him keep it.”

“It’s not so bad.  Maybe he’ll let you drive it,” Johnny replied

before tagging his friend on the shoulder and beginning to walk across

the court.

“I’ll be right there.  I’m going to get the ball,” Peter said.

Johnny didn’t look back.  He walked across the court to the man, his

grin getting bigger the closer he got.  He tried to memorize each

detail of the car as he did.  It was shiny and had no imperfections,

no scratches and no dents, everything about it was new.  He moved to

the driver’s side door and leaned down to the window.

“Do you like it?”

“It looks really good Mr. Luftcox,” he replied.

“I just got it.  It’s my little treat to myself.”

“It’s nice.”

“Fresh from the showroom floor, the salesman had to give me some

lessons to drive it, just a few.  I had muscle cars when I was

younger.  When I was your age I’d drive around and get all kinds of

action.”  He winked to Johnny who smiled back despite the feeling that

passed from his shoulders to his stomach.  “There’s no good place to

max it out but I’ve been up and down the highways here, almost got a

speeding ticket.  She really goes.”

“She?”

“Yeah, you know cars and ships are fine women,” Howard said.

“Well, it’s really nice.”

“Get Peter over here and I’ll take you both for a spin.  The backseat

isn’t much but the ride is a lot of fun.”

There was another feeling that passed through him.  This man wanted to

celebrate.  Johnny looked over his shoulder to see Peter walk across

the court slowly dribbling the ball as he did, as if he could put off

this truth.  He stepped off the court, tucked the ball under his arm,

and moved to them.

“Wow dad,” he said.

“Do you boys want to go for a ride?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said hoping his friend would go along with it.

“I don’t know,” Peter replied.

“Hey, it’s really nice.  You can both fit.”

“Well, I guess before mom makes you take it back,” Peter said.

“Hey, no way, not this time.  This is mine.  I paid for it completely.”

Johnny looked to Peter who bit his lip.  He could tell his friend had

mixed feelings about this.  Hell, it was more than mixed feelings.

Peter was angry at his father for being so irresponsible, yet he knew

there was nothing he could say.  The man was always telling him about

all the work he did, all the sacrifices he made, not just his time but

other peoples time.  He was the owner and the boss of his own

construction company, a well known construction company that got bids

for expensive jobs.  Bids that he at times had alluded to being not so

on the level, the shady dealings of working with the mob, doing

whatever he needed to do.  Peter had told him and he had heard for

himself how the man had started from nothing and worked his way up.

Almost every time they sat down to a spaghetti dinner he’d point out

to the boy that it was better than the ketchup and noodles they were

eating when he was five.

“Let’s go, hop in,” the man said.

Johnny stood and looked to Peter who shrugged.  His face was serene,

the familiar disassociation that Johnny had come to know from his

friend, the look that said he had a feeling he couldn’t express but he

knew the right thing to do.  The right thing to do was to get into the

car and let his father show off and try to impress them.  Johnny

tagged his friend on the shoulder again and motioned for them to walk

around the car which they did.

“Hey Peter, why don’t you let Johnny ride in the passenger seat and

you get in back,” Howard said, “after all you’ll get plenty of

opportunities to ride along.”

“Sure,” Peter replied before pushing the passenger seat up and

climbing into the back with the basketball.

Johnny saw the look on his friend’s face as he retreated into the

backseat, held the ball in his lap, tried to shrink into a forgettable

shadow.  Johnny sat in the passenger seat, buckled his seatbelt just

before Howard shifted into reverse and pulled out of the parking spot.

He rolled through the lot slowly and came to a stop, looked both ways

and there was no traffic, then he grinned at Johnny and pressed down

on the gas.  He burned tire before pulling out and speeding down the

road.

“Do you hear the purr?  Isn’t she great?”

“It’s awesome,” Johnny replied.

And it was.  He could feel the power of it.  It was unlike anything

else.  He could feel the vibrations of the engine, the way it moved.

It had real power, real speed.  Howard was quick to drive through the

neighborhood with one thing on his mind getting to the highway.

“Can you just take me home?” Peter asked from his shadow.

“Nonsense, we’ve got a full tank of gas.  You have to at least let me

show you a little of what this thing can do.”

Howard made his way to the highway, the familiar turns, all the

houses, everything went by more quickly than before and Johnny found

himself enthused by it, turned on by it.  He felt his erection push

against his jockstrap.  This was it.  He wanted one of his own some

day, he told himself.  And when they got to the highway he worried for

a moment that the man was going to fast on the on ramp, there was a

slight squeal of tire but he just kept pushing.  He hit sixty before

even getting on the highway and he didn’t settle for the slow lane, no

he went right into the passing lane.  Seventy, then eighty miles per

hour, ninety, Johnny felt as if he had left his stomach back on the

court.  He looked around at all the cars they passed, all of the

semi-trucks, and back to the speedometer, one hundred miles per hour

and that’s when he felt it.  Howard’s hand drifted from the shifter to

his knee.

This is what he wanted.  It must have been something to do with his

sweat, Johnny thought, because it had happened before, not just with

Howard with but other men, young and old, single and married.  Was it

his sweat?  Was it his look, a strong jaw, broad shoulders, and a

muscled body?  Was it something else?  Ever since he was about

fourteen he knew other men wanted him, gay and straight.  At first it

felt creepy, like the other men were predators and he was the prey but

in the last year as he felt he was on the verge of becoming a man it

felt like something else.  Because he realized they didn’t want to eat

him as he had long suspected and feared, no they wanted him to eat

them.  It was somehow the opposite, he was the hunter and they were

his prey.

His fingers moved down through the hairs on his thigh, pushed his

basketball shorts up, and he reached in and took hold of Johnny’s dick

that was already leaking ejaculate.  Johnny looked over his shoulder

to Peter who was staring down at his ball not wanting any part of his

father’s adventure with his new car, then he looked to the man’s

crotch and he saw he also had an erection.

“It’s really nice,” Howard said.

His finger slipped down under Johnny’s balls, under the pouch of his

jockstrap and between his sweaty cheeks right to his hole.  Johnny

felt the tip right there and he pushed himself back in the seat, felt

the way it formed around his body.  There was the engine’s vibrations,

the cars behind them, the smell of his own body and the smell of a new

car.  Howard grinned and just when Johnny thought it would come to

some end the man pulled his hand out and moved it to the shifter.

“Oh shit, it’s the cops,” he said.

“Try explaining this one to mom,” Peter said.

Howard looked in his rear view mirror for a moment to his son.  There

had been a time as Peter had said, when the man would have slapped him

for saying something like that, but not here, not now, not in front of

Johnny.  He slowed and moved over the lanes to the berm.  He came to a

stop, one glance down to Johnny’s leg and the young man pulled the

bottom of his shorts to his knee where it was supposed to be.

They waited for a long time before cop got out of his car.  He walked

up to the window and Howard lowered it.  He pulled out his driver’s

license, his registration and proof of insurance, along with something

else.  He handed over the documents to the cop before looking back to

Johnny.  They both knew Peter wouldn’t be impressed.  He wanted his

father to get a ticket.  But Johnny, he was supposed to be impressed,

and so he acted like he was, tried to put every feeling of admiration

into his reaction as the cop handed back the documents.

“Sir, I realize you just got the car and you want to impress your son

here but you really can’t be out here speeding like this.  I’ve got

the itch myself but it’s dangerous not just for yourself and your son

but all of these other drivers out here.  I’m going to let you off

with a warning but if it happens again I’ll have to give you a ticket.

And sir, the way you were driving just now it might just mean your

license.”

“Thank you officer,” Howard replied.

And like that it was over.  The cop returned to his car and Howard

pulled back onto the highway being more conservative and safe in his

driving.  He turned around at the next opportunity and sped back home,

ten miles over the speed limit but that was just to keep up with

traffic.  Johnny noticed that the man didn’t even come close to

touching him the entire time.  They pulled into the driveway fifteen

minutes later slightly exhausted from their experience.

“Do you want to stick around for dinner?” Howard asked.

“Sure,” Johnny replied.

They all got out of the car and walked into the house to find it was

empty.  Peter’s mother and sister weren’t home.  They walked through

to the kitchen.  There was a note on the refrigerator saying that they

were both out shopping at the mall and they would be home late.  There

was no food in the oven.  Howard made an act of looking in the

refrigerator and the freezer but said he didn’t want to cook.  He

pulled his wallet out.

“Hey Peter, would you run and get us some food?”

“Sure dad,” he replied.

“Take your sister’s car,” he said, “since she’s out with your mother.”

Johnny hid the smirk at the thought of Peter driving his sister’s pink

Volkswagon.  It had been a gift from their grandmother when she

graduated from college.  Peter expected he’d get his own, at least

that was the deal, if he stayed at home all through college, and if he

graduated with honors.

“Get us some pizza, wings, breadsticks, a couple cases of pop, and go

to that little bakery your mom likes and get some cheesecake for

dessert.”

“But she’s not even here,” Peter replied.

“I know, but when she sees my new car she’s going to be pissed.  The

cheesecake might might make it easier for her.”

“Okay,” Peter sighed.  “Do you want to come with me?” he asked looking

to Johnny who looked out of the corner of his eyes to Howard.

“No, why don’t you let him stay here?  We’ll get things ready, chill

the wine.  You just go take care of it.  You should be able to

manage.”

Peter gave in to his father’s orders and walked away.  Johnny looked

to the man.  Howard smiled back.  They both listened for the door to

the garage to close, then the sound of the garage door opening, Peter

started the car and backed out of the driveway, breaks screeched when

he hit the road and Howard shook his head in disappointment.

“I don’t know what you see in that boy.  He can be such a little cry

baby,” Howard said, “but I guess you two have been friends all of your

life.”

Johnny nodded his head.  And when the man moved towards him

aggressively he half stepped back before the man had his hands on his

sides and wrapped his fingers around him.  He pulled Johnny into a

kiss and once again his dick stiffened in the pouch of his jockstrap.

Johnny gave a little at first, then kissed back, pushed back at the

man until the two of them were in a struggle as their hands grabbed at

each other’s bodies.  Johnny pulled away from the kiss.

“I should go shower,” he said.

“No, right now I want you.  I want you like I’ve never wanted you

before.  I want to lick the sweat from your balls and I want you to

fuck me until I’m weak in the knees.  Come on let’s do it, quick while

everyone is out.”

Johnny knew what the man wanted and he was going to give it to him.

He put his hands on the man’s shoulders and pushed him down until he

was on his knees.  Howard pulled his shorts down just enough to get at

the pouch, pressed his face against his hard dick through the material

before pulling that down just enough to free it.  He kissed and licked

at the younger man’s dick, spit ran down his balls and he licked that

up, licked and sucked the sweat, the salt, from the younger man’s

skin.  He put his dick into his mouth and he sucked.  Johnny felt the

rush of blood, the feeling that his dick would be turned inside out by

this man’s mouth and he ran his fingers through the man’s hair.  He

heard the squeak of his sneakers on the linoleum floor as he slid back

into the refrigerator and the man kept at him.

There he stood in his best friend’s kitchen getting a blow job from

his father.  His shorts fell down around his ankles, the straps of his

jock clung to his butt cheeks, his jersey stretched with the bobbing

of the man’s head.  He ran his fingers over his own nipples as he

stood in the orange light of the ceiling fan.  It was so wrong and yet

it felt so good.  This was his best friend’s father and yet this man

wanted him and wanted this man.  Howard pulled off his dick and it

slapped him across the face as he went in to tongue his balls again.

“I want it.  Fuck me right here,” the man ordered.

“Get up,” Johnny replied.

Howard stood and before he could steady himself Johnny grabbed at him,

turned him and put him bent over against the counter.  He made quick

work of pulling down his pants and underwear.  He grabbed at the other

man’s hard dick and balls just for a moment before pressing his spit

covered dick to his hole.  Thighs pressed together he felt Howard’s

legs shake as he pushed inside.  And there it was.  It was the

ultimate feeling of power and satisfaction, deep and warm inside this

man who had once seemed so large, so powerful.  He pushed into him

until he was balls deep and he grabbed at the man’s hairy ass, ran his

fingers down to his thighs then back up, pushed the man’s shirt up his

back and balled it in his fists as he began to piston inside of him.

His balls slapped at the other man’s balls.  He went hard, pressed

Howard’s face into the granite top.  He heard the seams tear on his

shirt but it didn’t stop him.  He kept at it.  He pushed himself into

the man, unrelenting and hard.  Howard cried out in pain.  He cried

out in pleasure.  And he cried out for more, deeper, harder, faster.

It took all of Johnny’s strength and endurance, at one point he lifted

the other man off his heels with each thrust, sweat covered his body

and his legs ached but he powered through until he felt that moment of

pleasure, that moment when it felt like his very soul was escaping him

and he that tingle of pain as his balls tightened and he shot his load

into the man.  His legs began to spasm and he pulled out, stepped back

into the kitchen island.  Howard beat upon the counter with one hand

in celebration before slowly falling to his knees and turning and

pressing his back to the cupboards.  He looked up to Johnny who began

to tuck his dick back into his jockstrap.

“No don’t, let me clean it off,” he begged.

This was new.  He had never done that before and Johnny felt it a

little disgusting but he still moved to the man who took his dick into

his mouth and sucked it a little until there was no more sensation to

get from it.  Finally he pushed the younger man away and let his head

fall back against the cupboard door.

“We’ll have to both hit the showers,” he said.

“What about Peter?”

“When he gets back with the food we’ll eat.”

“No, I mean we were supposed to do stuff, chill the wine.”

“That’s easy enough,” Howard replied.

And for a moment they stood and sat in the quiet of the empty house

before they set about what they had to do.  Howard went to the master

bedroom, got into the master  shower.  Johnny went to Peter’s room and

took a change of clothes from his drawer.

“I’m sorry Pete,” he said.

But it was over.  It had to be done and he set about covering up.

Chapter 01: https://brieflytoldstories.blogspot.com/2018/09/johnny-seed-chapter-01-hit-road.html

Chapter 02: https://brieflytoldstories.blogspot.com/2018/09/johnny-seed-ch-02-smell.html

Chapter 03: https://brieflytoldstories.blogspot.com/2018/09/johnny-seed-ch-03-bf.html

Chapter 04: https://brieflytoldstories.blogspot.com/2018/09/johnny-seed-ch-04-savior.html

Hard Sell Pt 07 - Fitting

That night after having his hole so thoroughly stretched by the massage therapist Mark showered and went to bed alone but very much thinking about Oliver.  They had sent a few text messages back and forth, an escalation of teasing and flirtation that had him falling asleep with his cum covered dick on one hand and his phone in the other as he relived and attempted to memorize everything that had been done to him.  A few times he’d slip a finger down to his hole just to see if it had regained its shape, it did but he didn’t feel the same.

Never before had his body been pushed so far, his senses maximized.  And the way Brad used him afterwards, fucked his throat.  If he closed his eyes he could still smell the sweat of him, his nuts resting on his upper lip.  He had been tempted to ask the man to stay.  He wanted a warm body in his bed, someone to cuddle with and talk to, whisper in his ear and maybe play with, but the man showed no interest as they sat on the couch together.  It was done.  He had gotten what he wanted.

The energy in the room was different.  Something had been accomplished, something had been gained.  He wanted to know more but at the same time he didn’t because it wasn’t much different than an anonymous hookup from an app or some guy he met at a bar or a club.  

Did the man have someone at home?  Was he paid for the service?  Mark didn’t ask any of those questions and decided to be content with the experience.  He watched the man carefully after he finished his beer and got up to find his clothes, the way his muscles moved and his skin stretched as he cleaned all of the dildos in the sink and put everything in his bag.  He walked him to the door and that was it.

The next morning he awoke with morning wood like few times ever in his life.  It wasn’t just the biological action of his body, the effect of needing to pee, no he was horny and wanting someone, something.  He rolled onto his back and tugged one out quickly before going to the shower.  Sex was on his mind as he got ready, as he ate breakfast, as he drove to work, and even as he sat down at his desk.  A lust had been awakened in him, a lust that had been dormant since college when he thought he realized reality couldn’t live up to fantasy.  And he started feeling the things other people told him to feel about monogamy and romance, tried to live out those stories that ended with marriage and a happily ever after.  Those ideals had always felt like a lie to him, an impossible, impractical standard.  Oliver was different, he had made fantasy into reality, given him sexual experiences not just between the two of them but with other men, scenarios and roles that he always thought he would have to connive out of a partner with some kind of wish list.

Work through the morning was a breeze, a few calls, a few emails, while looking up people on the rolodex of his phone.  He didn’t sell one car by lunch but he was okay with that so he took a deep breath, let his erection subside, and headed out for a bite to eat feeling confident and a little cheeky.  Instead of going to his usual place he went to his reward spot and ordered his favorite food, a casual sit down restaurant known for its quick service.  And for Mark it's cute waiters, young men in form fitting slacks.

Normally he’d sit and drool over the thought of taking one of them over the table and pounding them until he had an orgasm but that day he had not just the opposite fantasy but a more elaborate one, taking all of the waiters, being tied down with his tie and used by each of them in turn.  They’d run a train on him until his hole was dripping and sore, that would be good, he thought.  He was half in fantasy when he got a text message from Oliver.

[How are you feeling?]

He grinned at the message and looked around to make sure he couldn’t recognize anyone then held the phone close and wrote out a response.

[That was amazing.  Brad was a very thorough professional.  I can’t believe all the things he did to me.  I’ve never been used like that.  I’m on Cloud Nine right now.]

He realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled, then focused on his breathing as he waited for a response.

[I’m glad you don’t have any regrets.  Are you up for some more?]

Mark had an erection again and when he noticed the waiter was headed his way looking to clear his plate he waved the man off and looked around to make sure no one was watching him before entering a response.

[I’m up for anything.  In fact I’m having a fantasy right now about these guys at this restaurant I’m at for lunch.]

[Are they doing bad things to you?]

[Very bad.  All of them at the same time.]

[Good to hear you’re starting to think creatively, but we’re not there yet.]

His mood sunk a little at the comment.  Just what was he ready for?  What did Oliver have planned for him?  He bit his lip and sent back a text asking.  He didn’t have to wait long before getting a response.

[You looked cute in that suit and tie you wear.  I’m guessing you’ve got a half dozen shirts, a couple pair of slacks.  But maybe you need a new suit?  Go to my personal tailor, a friend of mine, Q&A Fashion.  I’ll let them know to be expecting you after work.  Make sure to wear clean underwear.]

A new suit?  Clean underwear?  Mark felt his hard dick twitch at the thought of it, move enough to feel the slime trail of his leaking dick in his underwear.  Well, there goes my clean briefs, he thought.  He bit his lip and a moment later he received a text with the address and directions, he read over it a few times, especially the part that said “park around back and enter through rear” because even that was stirring his imagination.  He groaned at the thought of going back to work, another few hours of trying to sell cars before he’d be able to go.  But everything had a cost and he figured he might as well get it over with so he called for the bill.

Back at work Mark made his way to his desk, checked his email, checked his messages and found a few potential customers looking to make appointments for the next couple of days.  He checked his schedule, replied to the emails, called back the few that had left messages.  He looked to the door hoping someone would walk through because he had a few leads but nothing too promising, nothing as good as a sale right then, but he was disappointed when Cody stepped into his vision with a grin on his face.

“Good day?” Mark asked.

“Awesome, just made a sale while you were at lunch.”

“Trying to make me look lazy?”

“I don’t have to try,” Cody replied, “you do it yourself.”

“Very funny, so what, you sold a car while I was out.  One of your regulars?”

“No, that’s the best part.  He came in looking for you.”

“What?”

Mark reeled at the thought of Cody stealing one of his clients.  He crossed his arms and looked to the other man with narrowed, serious eyes.

“In the half hour I was gone you made a sale?”

Cody’s serious face broke into laughter.

“No, I’m just messing with you.  It wasn’t one of yours but yeah, I got him in talking to the finance manager right now to figure out a payment schedule.  But it’s all good, I mean you tried to steal one of mine anyway.”

“What?  Who?”

“Oliver,” Cody replied, “I know you took him for a test drive.”

The test drive?  How it all started, that, he was Cody’s?  Mark shrugged off the accusation.  Even if it were true it still led to the best time of his life.

“Yeah well,” Mark replied.

“It’s all good.  We sell cars.  It’s not like a committed relationship.  But next time, just know, you’re out of the office and someone walks through the door I’ll be on him.  I’ll close the deal whatever it takes.”

Mark thought about Cody doing whatever it takes, running naked around an abandoned airport, driving naked back to the dealership, sucking Oliver off in the car even if it didn’t lead to a sale right then, and he chuckled.

“Think it’s funny?  Well it’ll be your ass,” Cody said before walking away.
Your ass, Mark thought, and laughed again to himself.  And for the rest of the day Mark kept himself busy doing little things while he kept one eye on the door, occasionally he’d see Cody and he’d think, your ass and smirk to himself, but when it came time to leave he was quick to clear his desk and leave.  He put the address in his phone, connected that to his car, then drove.

An hour later, in a section of town he didn’t visit often, Mark took note of the nearby restaurants and bars as he found the place and a nearby parking garage.  He walked the half block back to the front door and paused for a moment.  Was Oliver serious about using the back entrance?  He looked up at the sign.  It had to be the same place, and yet, he thought about it, Oliver hadn’t misled him so far.  He let go of the door handle and walked around the side of the building, down the alley and to the back of the building where he found an ornate wooden door.

Classy, he thought to himself before he pulled it open and stepped through.  An aroma of wood and leather overwhelmed him for a moment as he looked around at what seemed to be an ordinary men’s clothing store: a couple racks of jackets, a display for slacks, against the far wall a shirt display, and even a display for underwear, a mix of classy boxers and those new briefs with the stretchy, clinging fabric.  A few men browsed through the clothes, mostly middle aged, one of them with his much younger boyfriend.  Mark spotted the register and the well dressed cashier behind it ringing up a purchase for one of the men.  He took a moment to look from wall to wall before he noticed that there were no front windows.  

This part of the store was separate from the front part of the store.  He looked to the man behind the register who noticed him in return and gave a curious tilt of his head then looked away suddenly self-conscious and nervous.  He started to move his feet, slowly he walked further into the store to one of the racks and began look over the jackets.  He noticed the man who had just checked out walk by him and look him over.  He looked back, noted the man’s expensive, leather shoes, his slacks, his tucked in shirt with an open collar.  The man had wealth and he had taste.  If he were anywhere else he might just chat the guy up and give him a business card, and yet he thought of Oliver and the reason he was there and it gave him pause.

He was about to give up, unsure of just what he was supposed to find there, when he saw the younger boyfriend take off his shirt right there in front of everyone to try on something new.  And that’s when he realized two things were missing, changing rooms and cameras, and he thought of Oliver’s text about getting a new suit, a complete suit he guessed, jacket, shirt, and pants.  Clean underwear, he thought, I forgot about getting clean underwear.  He started to head back for the door out when he ran into the cashier, bumped into him, and he stepped back and looked over the man.  He wasn’t an ordinary cashier.  He was fit, stylish.  He looked to be in his forties mostly though Mark suspected he was actually older, white hair and blue eyes.

“I uh, came to the wrong place,” Mark blurted out.

“Are you sure?  Aren’t you my appointment for a new suit?  Oliver said he’d be sending over someone new and now I can see why, look at you, oh you’re darling.”

Mark suddenly felt intimidated by the man as he stepped back once to get another six inches of distance between them.  The man looked him over and he felt like a piece of meat, measured and judged by each feature, put together and taken back apart, possibly even stripped in the man’s imagination, right down to his, his bare ass.  Mark gulped and bit his lip.  Was this what he wanted?

The other customers continued to browse but they were also looking to him, at him.  Were they all doing the same thing he thought of this man before him had been doing?  He was it.  He was the center of attention.  He looked to the door, felt the bead of sweat on his forehead and pool collect at the small of his back.  He was nervous.  He was actually nervous, he thought, and excited at the same time because if he stayed they’d all get to see him.  He might just be stripped of each piece of fabric.  He felt his dick harden, worried that they all saw the tent in his pants.  He was afraid, not of physical nor emotional harm, just the fear of something new and yet he nodded because yes he wanted this.

“I’m Quentin,” the older man said offering his hand.

“Mark,” he said taking hold of it.

He tried his best to shake with his firmest, most professional grip but the man’s wrist bent with the motion and he felt it go limp.  He was worried he had done something wrong but the man only stepped to him, put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to the clothes and asked, “where should we begin?” Mark looked around at the different sections unsure of how or what he should say next and was about to just start talking, make some kind of noise, uhm or like, well, anything when Quentin interrupted him.

“Measurements, it’s always good to start with measurements,” he said.

And he ushered Mark across the store to an area where three mirrors surrounded a small step, a platform, a pedestal.  Mark felt the man urge him to get up on it so he did.  He was turned and faced back out to the rest of the store.  Suddenly a few inches taller he looked down on the rest of them and yet he was the one who felt ridiculous and the focus of attention.  He felt Quentin take hold of his tie and loosen it, pull it out and for a moment he breathed easier until the older man took hold of his belt buckle and he grabbed the man’s wrists.  And the man didn’t fight back, just let himself be taken and held.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, the best measurements are always closest to the skin.  I thought, maybe, I could strip you down for the most accurate results.”

The other customers were now all looking to him.  They were waiting, hunger in their eyes.  He thought he saw one of them lick his lips.  The younger man, the boyfriend, was shirtless as he stared back and yet Mark still felt the most vulnerable of them all.  And yet there it was, the younger boyfriend, shirtless, and so he relaxed and he let go of the tailor’s wrists.  Quentin quickly set about his task, belt out, fly open, pants down, shoes off, pants off, socks off.  Mark self consciously tugged his shirt down to cover himself.  Quentin pulled a measuring tape from his back pocket, ran it from his foot up his leg to the inside of his thigh right beside his balls.  He felt the back of the man’s hand.  Did it really have to be there so long?  Probably not.

For a moment he laughed to himself as he stood there with his shirt loose down to half of his thigh, slightly tickled by the tailor who moved to his other leg.  He watched as some of the other customers moved closer and some of them went back to shopping though keeping one eye on him.  He looked to their crotches and noted that most all of them were walking around with erections.  And he felt his own dick slide around against his briefs, leave a trail of ejaculate as he felt it harden.

This isn’t so bad, he told himself, but Quentin must have sensed his confidence because that’s when he took hold his shirt collar.  One button at a time, slowly and methodically until it was open, the man pulled it from his shoulders, tossed it on his pile of clothes.  Mark suddenly felt humiliated as he stood there wishing he had picked a different style of undershirt that day, the one day he had chosen tank top over crew neck.  He could have used the sleeves right then, the tighter collar, the way the fabric hung loose, but instead he was in a tank top.  The ribbed fabric clung to him, bare shoulders, bare clavicle.  He tried to cover himself with his hands and that’s when he remembered the three mirrors behind him.  They all could see him, all parts of him at the same time and from just about every angle.  He felt the way his briefs rode up his crack, part of one cheek a little more visible, and he wanted to pull it out, two fingers to the back of his underwear and he could cover himself.  But for how long?  He remembered the store sold underwear too.

Quentin asked him to remove his undershirt and he did, handed it over to the man who dropped it with the rest before reaching up to his hips, a hand on each side.  His fingers delicately inside the waist band, he pulled a little, then some more, and finally Mark felt the last fabric, the lost cover of decency, leave his body, down his hips to his ankles and then he stepped out of it.  He stood there before all of them naked, bare, his erect dick pointed at them.  They all took a moment to look.  They all saw him.

It could be worse, he thought, I could be bending over showing them my asshole.  And yet it was completely embarrassing, completely humiliating to be standing there in front of strangers, in the back of a store, in another store, a kind of fake store, clothing all around him, aisles and displays of clothing, his own clothing on the floor in a messy pile.  He looked down to see his briefs and for a moment he wanted them back.  He wanted them all back.  And yet as he stood there, felt his body in the cool air, the way his hard dick stuck out with the foreskin rolled back he was kind of proud because they were all looking at him.  They were all admiring him.  He moved his hands a little just to feel the under part of his forearm brush against the head of his dick and he bucked a little and the men smirked as they stared at him.  Quentin moved away, crossed the store to a door that he went through as discreetly as possibly.  He looked to his left and saw a man rub at his bulge in his pants.  They were all getting off on this.  

One man brazenly put his hands down inside his pants and began to stroke his hard dick.  He looked to where the man with the younger boyfriend had been joined by one of the other customers and the younger boyfriend had his hands down inside the men’s pants as they pawed him.  Mark licked his lips.  These men wanted him.  They were horny for him and yet they all stood back observing him as he stood there and suddenly he didn’t feel shame but pride so he put his hands at his side, took a deep breath, and held his shoulders up.  His hard dick in front of him, so hard it bent back, the foreskin peel away and the tip was red, a pearl of cum on it.

After several deep breaths he saw Quentin return accompanied by another much younger man, handsome with glasses and short, stylish haircut.  The new man walked ahead, crossed the room to where Mark stood and looked him in the eye.

“My name is Alfie,” he said, “and it looks like we’ve got a bit of a problem here, none of your clothes will fit with that big erection.”

Mark rubbed his fingers together.  This new man, this more in charge man somehow, he added a new element to it.  He felt as if his cheeks were on fire and he looked to the ceiling, watched the man out of the corner of his eye.  Alfie stepped closer, his cologne wafted into Mark’s nostrils and he could hear the other men in the room, the rustle of their clothes as they masturbated.

“On your knees boy,” Alfie commanded.

Mark dropped to his knees, his head still cocked back he looked up to the man as he stood before him in his slacks, his button down shirt, suspenders, a bow tie.  Alfie reached around to him, gripped the back of his head then pulled him into his crotch.  Mark felt the man’s erection underneath.  In the darkness of the cloth, firm against his thigh he gulped and moved his mouth as if the man’s dick was right there for him.  He wanted it.  His knees pressed into the carpet, toes bent, the way his butt cheeks parted and hung open, his hard dick and tight balls, his nipples hard.  He saw Alfie’s hand, fingers touched together on the zipper.  He heard the teeth slowly open, then he undid his belt, his pants.  Alfie pulled him to his dick, his face pressed into the other man’s underwear he felt his hard dick.

Slowly he moved up to the waistband of his underwear, bit into them with his teeth, pulled them down.  Alfie’s dick slapped against the side of his face.  He felt it run along his cheek to his ear and he tried to grip it with his lips.  Alfie placed his hand on Mark’s head and pushed him a little lower to his balls.  He took one in his mouth then the other, licked up the base along the shaft to the head.  He nipped at it, licked his lips and opened his mouth for Alfie to push inside, across this tongue to the back of his mouth to his throat he choked a little and pushed back.  The tailor pulled out and he gulped for breath, he felt his mouth fill with saliva.

Back into his mouth, out, in, out, Alfie’s fingers in his hair, he began to thrust in motion deeper each time into Mark’s mouth, his balls slapped against his chin.  Mark reached down to his own dick, felt his balls, gripped at his shaft, tugged a little and with just a little motion his fingers rubbed over the head and it happened.  He felt the spasm of his muscles, the rush and the tingle of pain as he ejaculated.  But it wasn’t over as Alfie continued to fuck his face, his lips began to swell, the other man gripped at his ears and his hair until finally he was pulled into his pubic hair and he felt the cum in his throat burn down to his stomach.  He pulled away and sunk down on his haunches, head down, spit ran out from his open mouth down to his chest, his belly, even on his own dick.

And just when he had gathered his breath he felt someone grab his ear and he realized it was Quentin, the older man who had stripped him.  He was pulled low to the floor to Alfie’s shoe where he saw his own ejaculate there on the leather.  Quentin spanked him twice and pulled him closer until he stuck out his tongue and he was forced to lick up what he had carelessly spilled.  He licked and sucked as the older man continued to abuse his bottom and pull on his ear until he had cleaned the entire shoe and then he was pulled to the carpet where he tasted some of it but also the fibers and he struggled and resisted so Quentin released him.  He pushed himself up to his knees and glared to the old man and was about to say something when Aflie squatted down in front of him, slapped him across the face and he looked back to him.

“Bad boy,” he said.

It was there again.  He felt himself back in the scene.  He would do anything for this young man.  He looked him in the eye for a moment, then looked down to the carpet and he saw the wet spot.  Slowly, carefully he lowered himself down on his hands, tried to lick at it without tasting the carpet.  For a moment he thought he had done exactly what was expected of him, especially when he heard the younger man’s cruel laughter that stirred his memory and he realized exactly where he was, exactly what he had done, and the other men, the strangers.  He pushed up and looked for them and was surprised to see most of them had gone.

“We’ll get to work on your suit right away sir,” Quentin said, “I believe we have everything we need.”

Alfie properly secured his dick back into his underwear and his pants, walked out of the room.  Mark looked over to his pile of clothes.  He crawled to them, got to his feet, pulled each article on one at a time.  He looked to Quentin who seemed to be preoccupied with his work, then he walked out.  The cool air was refreshing when it hit his red cheeks and lungs.  He breathed deep, adjusted his dick, and walked back to his car slowly memorizing for himself everything he had been subjected to in some attempt to remember every detail even the taste of the carpet.