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.  



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.