A Tuxedo Salesman
Copyright © 2010
By Lee Mariner
This gay fantasy will contain erotic situations
involving young men. It is intended for ADULT readers only. If
you are not of legal age in your locality to be reading this story or
should you not approve of such material, PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.
The author copyrights this material and all Rights are reserved.
It may not be copied, reproduced or posted on any web site without the
written consent of the author. It assigned to the Nifty Archives
for posting under their guidelines for submitting stories for posting.
Editing and proof-reading done my my good friend, David.
mariner23502@hotmail.com
¥¥¥¥¥¥
Chapter #1
The Senior Prom is the highlight of most high school students
social lives, especially in our school located in a small town in the
mountains
of West Virginia. The teenage years are when the siblings of the
nest
start spreading their wings and begin experimenting within the parental
and
socially forbidden areas that were whispered about behind closed doors.
My problem, if it could be called a problem, was that I was more
excited looking at
my naked buddies when we were showering after practicing, and wishing
they would let me hold their cocks and jerk them off. Fortunately
for me the talk about naked girls and
fucking them hid the fact that my hardon was not from thinking about
girls.
We had studied Human Anatomy and Sexual Physiology but not to the
extent that it covered human reproduction. The school boys
bathrooms were
filled after those classes, and it was to perform a more personal
aspect
of sexual physiology that had not been discussed but had created the
overwhelming
need to satisfy the urges that were not fully explained by teacher or
parent.
The expected lesson in the differences between the birds and bees did
little more than enflame the need to learn more. In a small town
it
was not easy for a horny seventeen year old who strongly suspected that
sex
with a girl was not what I wanted. I wanted to learn what naked sex
with
another boy was like.
I didn't know it then but, it would be an older man that would teach me
about gay sex.
¥¥¥¥¥¥
In my Senior year it seemed as if June came
around awfully fast and everyone was talking about the prom and who
they were
going to date and what they would be wearing. Gatelin, my closest
friend
was excited about escorting Kathleen, his girl friend, and he bugged me
about asking Megan, an attractive girl although a bit of a wallflower
in social events. It was Gatelin's contention that Megan had the hots
for me and would be an easy lay. I wasn't sure that what he said about
Megan having the hots for me was right but, he was so persistent that
the thought of telling him I was gay and I wanted him flashed through
my mind.
"Mike," he blurted out as we finished one of our cataclysmic jerk
off sessions in a drainage well under the auditorium fire escape. "I'm
telling
you guy, you're a fucking nut if you pass up the chance to shove your
dick
in that chick's cunt and fuck her silly, man. That's what she wants."
What he didn't know even though we had talked about all kinds of sex
and
had jerked off together in just about every hidden spot we could find,
I
wanted to go to bed with him more than I wanted to fuck a girl's cunt.
That was not likely to happen though, he was
as straight as a fucking arrow.
"What about you?" I countered, watching intently as he milked the
last pearls of thick creamy sperm from his impressive seven inch cock.
"You pester me all the time about fucking Megan but, what about
Kathleen? You talk about
fucking her but, she hasn't put out yet, has she?"
"Yeah," he mused, gazing downward as he slowly finished stripping the
urethral canal of his semi-flaccid cock. "That cunt is a real cock
teaser, Mike. She tongues like crazy when we kiss, and she lets
me play with her tits but that's all. I know she can feel
my hard cock pressing against her leg but, just as I start to move my
hand
up over her leg toward her pussy, she pushes it away and gives me one
of
her 'not yet Gatelin, not here, someone might catch us excuses.'
Boy,
that leaves me with a set of blue balls so bad, fucking my fist only
helps
a little."
"What do you do, jerk off again?" I asked, stroking my just as
impressive cock as I listened to his tale of woe, wishing his hand was
moving over my thighs, his fingers about to touch my burgeoning cock
and my balls.
"Yep, twice, and if you keep on stroking you're cock like you're doing,
your gonna cum again," he chuckled, grinning, his gorgeous
aqua-blue eyes twinkling brightly as he nodded in the direction of my
crotch.
It took all of my willpower to avoid asking him if he wanted to do it
for me, but common sense prevailed.
¥¥¥¥¥¥
The week before the prom, I finally asked Megan if she would be my
date. I guess maybe I shouldn't have been surprised but, when she told
me
that she already had a date. Not having a date was my fault and I
shouldn't have felt let down but, I did. Gatelin teased me
about being a wall flower and I lost track of how many times I told him
he
could go fuck himself. He kept up his torrid pace of teasing
until
the day before the prom when we were walking home after band practice,
I
finally blurted out. "Dammit, Gatelin, who says a guy has to have a
date
for the prom!" I exclaimed. "I bet there will be other guys and girls
there who won't
have dates."
"Maybe," he replied cockily. "But, I've got a pretty good idea who will
be
fucking his fist Saturday night."
"Go fuck yourself, Gatelin," I replied angrily.
"Hey, don't get pissed at me buddy, I warned you but you wouldn't
listen."
"No big deal," I said quickly. "There will be other chicks that are
dateless,
and maybe I can hook up with one and get laid."
Yeah," he replied grinning broadly. "I'll believe that when I see it
but,
right now, Mom's waiting to take me over to Madison's to see if my tux
is
ready. See ya later," he said as he broke into a trot toward his house
on the other side
of the street opposite mine.
"Me too," I called out as he trotted away.
¥¥¥¥¥¥
Gatelin had been on vacation with his family when I
went
into Madison's Formal Wear Store to be fitted. When I went in
some dumpy looking guy
with gray hair, and wearing a rumpled tuxedo watched as I entered and
walked toward him. The school board had
worked out a deal for a student discount, and when I told him that I
was
a student, his eyebrows shot up. Twisting
his fingers, he said, "do you have a student identification card and
the school board letter with you?"
"Yes Sir," I replied while at the same time thinking, 'I guess I'm not
what he is used to.'
I didn't think I had to change my clothing for the fitting of a tuxedo
when I left school. I was dressed the way most teenagers dress,
snug but not tight Blue Boy jeans, a form fitting short sleeve, white,
open throated Sammy Snead golf shirt and a pair of Cordovan penny
loafers. Unlike most teenagers, I preferred wearing shoes instead
of what I thought were overpriced sneakers.
While I was extracting my wallet from my hip pocket, he glanced
over his shoulder at an attractive dark headed young man whom I had
noticed when I entered. He was wearing a James Bond white jacket
evening tuxedo and standing
beside a glass case containing a variety of men's accessories.
"Frederick," he said, would you be so kind as to take care of this
young gentleman?" Without a further word to me or looking at the
identification card he had asked for, he turned and moved away as if he
had more pressing matters to take care of besides waiting on a student.
"It will be my pleasure Mr. Abercrombie," the young man
replied as he moved from the glass case toward where I was standing
dumfounded by the unexpected dismissal of Mr. Abercrombie whom I had
never met.
"Frederick, was dressed much better
than the unimpressive Mr. Abercrombie. His auburn hair was
well groomed and his cheeks were smooth, not a hint of five o'clock
shadow. His eyes appeared dark at a distance but proved to be hazel as
he drew closer. He moved with the grace of an athlete, gliding
not walking, and the tailored fit of his clothing revealed a broad
torso, a
narrow waist and hips. The legs of his black trousers broke perfectly
at his ankle revealing black patent leather shoes.
I felt an unsolicited twinge in my groin as he moved closer and the
thought, 'Jesus, he is hot,' entered my mind.
Our eyes met and held as he approached. His teeth flashed
brilliant white as he spoke in a soft, well modulated
baritone, asking, "You are from Murcheson High School?"
"Yes...yes, Sir," I replied, stammering
slightly, a strange feeling of wanting to know him more intimately
sweeping over me
as I looked into his hazel eyes.
"You don't need to address me as 'Sir'," he replied, grinning broadly,
an
amused tone in his voice, his eyes twinkling brightly, "I am probably
not much older than you are," he said as he scanned the credentials I
had given him as he continued. "Frederick or Fred will do, and you
are Michael Williams?"
"I'll be eighteen this August," I replied. "And most people call me
Mike instead of Michael.
"Touch'e Mike?" he replied good naturally, looking at me and then
glancing at the letter and chuckling softly, he said, "I was
going to ask if that would be alright but, you beat me to the punch
but, other than that, I see you have elected the option to buy your
tuxedo instead of renting it."
"Yeah," I replied, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "It
makes more sense to me to buy it instead of renting since, I'll
probably need
it again."
"I agree," he replied in a smooth conversational tone as he slowly
circled where I was standing. "Have you ever been fitted for a tuxedo?"
"No, I haven't," I replied. "Mom bought me a couple of suits at Sears
but, nothing formal."
"In that case, Mike, we start from scratch," he said, moving behind me
as he spoke.
Not really knowing what I should do, I stood stiffly until I jerked
slightly at the feeling of his hands slipping into my armpits. "I'm
sorry, Mike, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, squeezing the
lateral muscles gently before moving his hands downward over my ribs to
my waist. Again, an almost imperceptible pressure on my waist and
then, "You have a very well developed torso, Mike, complimented
by a small waist. It is what we in the tailoring business like to call
the perfect vee."
"Thanks," I replied, trying in vain to avoid the erotic feelings that
his fingers had created.
"Do you play any sports in school?" he asked, still circling and
running his eyes over me from different angles as if trying to form a
mental picture of what my measurements were.
"Yeah," I replied, inhaling softly. "I'm on the swimming and track
teams. Our basketball coach wanted me to tryout but, my schedule
was too heavy for another sport."
"Boning up for the college SAT tests?" he asked, as we were
moving in the direction of the dressing rooms in the rear of the store.
"I'd like to make it into Virginia Tech if I can."
"Whoa boy, you picked a good one," he said as he opened the door to the
fitting room and flipped the 'In Use' switch. "I went to Marshall
but I wasn't into sports, I majored in Business Administration."
"No sports at all?" I asked. "You look pretty well built to me."
'Damn' I thought. 'Why in hell did I say that, it's none of my
business.'
"Thanks, Mike, I appreciate the compliment," he replied casually. "I
work out at the YMCA three times a week and I do some running to try
and stay in shape."
"You look it,"
"Thanks again, Mike, but right now, you need to strip down to your
shorts while I find you a robe and some tailors chalk and a tape
measure."
As Fred closed the door behind him, I inhaled deeply and exhaled
forcefully to relieve some of the internal pressure that I was feeling.
Adjusting my partially flaccid cock, I looked around my surroundings
thinking, 'Pretty fancy for a dressing room, its more like a sitting
room.'
The walls were a dark walnut and the floor was of the same wood as
those in
the main showroom, dark almost black three or four inch wide pine
planking. Two florescent lights were centered in the ceiling of the
approximately eight by ten foot room. Two chairs upholestered in
maroon naugahyde were positioned on either side of a walnut twenty-four
by thirty-six inch rectangular table. There were a couple of
non-discript hooks mounted on the opposite wall of the room and a short
army style cot with a matteress was against the short wall behind the
door when opened.
'All the comforts of home,' I thought as I started undressing.