By Natty Soltesz
I was bored. I wanted to get out of my lonely apartment and do something, anything, so I decided to go shopping.
Darkness had already fallen, and the wind rustled the dead leaves as I got in to my car. I sang along with the radio — when you’re alone, simple pleasures take on a greater meaning.
The store was bright and inviting. I headed for the men’s section and tooled around in the sportswear racks, not seeing anything I liked. Then I noticed him.
I took him in from the corner of my eye, because I’m cautious like that. He was rifling through some shirts in the aisle across from me; a young black man, maybe a little older than I was. His long white t-shirt covered up more than it should have, but he carried himself well.
I tried to ignore him because I didn’t want to obsess. He moved right next to me, looking through the same shirts I had just looked through. He glanced up, I looked down, and we continued on our separate missions.
As a test I moved near the fitting rooms, to a bin of white t-shirts and underwear. I needed t-shirts so I browsed those. Everything was irregular, marked down.
He casually stepped up to the bin, beside me, and began looking through the same shirts. I didn’t know what to do because he was looking right at the size I’d been going for, and he’d interrupted my flow.
I absently picked up a package of designer underwear and looked at the box. On the front was a picture of a hot male body, cut off at the neck and the knees. He was lit from the side, the diffuse light casting ashy shadows on the peaks of his muscles, his skin smooth and taut. The elastic waist of the briefs stretched low under his belly, snuggly hugging his airbrushed crotch, the leg holes cut high to reveal a divot where his muscled ass met his thigh.
My fellow shopper reached in front of me and picked up a box of the same brand of briefs. He turned it over in his hands and looked at the price. He scrunched up his lips, narrowed his eyes.
“Damn, these are expensive,” he said.
“I know. They’re even marked down.” I looked at him directly for the first time. He looked up at me.
“You think I would look good in these?” he asked.
“I—I guess so. Yeah, probably?”
“Hmmm.” He turned and looked at the fitting rooms. Nobody seemed to be manning it. Nobody seemed to be around at all.
“So how do I try em on? Do I just take them out of the box?”
“Yeah, I mean—fuck it. You gotta try them on, right?” He opened the box top and stopped, like he wasn’t sure. Then he turned and walked into the fitting room area. He looked around.
“Guess there’s nobody here,” he said. He headed down the hall to the men’s stalls, and I followed. It seemed to be what he wanted. Somehow someway, we were in this together.
He opened the wooden Venetian door of a stall and stepped inside, leaving it open, and I stood outside.
“I don’t know why they’re in this box if I’m supposed to try them on.”
“Are they the right size?” He stopped unbuckling his pants and looked at the package.
“I think so. Gotta be sure, though, right?” He pulled off his belt and took down his pants. I caught a glimpse of his white briefs before his shirt fell back again, obscuring them. He pulled the bikini briefs out of the box. They were folded and hooked together by some plastic apparatus, and he grimaced as he snapped it apart and freed a pair.
He turned around when he took his tighty-whities off. That made me slightly bashful, and for a moment I shifted my gaze. When he slid the bikinis up his legs I caught a glimpse of his beautiful, muscular ass.
Standing before the mirror he turned one way, then the other. He lifted up his shirt, then took it off. He was nude but for his briefs. His body was beautiful—muscular and smooth. He turned to me.
“What do you think?” What I thought was that he looked fucking hot. The briefs were tiny things, blue and grey striped, and Jesus Christ did he fill them out. The front of the waistband dipped precariously toward his dick, the thin pouch barely containing what he’d packed inside. He turned around. The briefs were stretched taut to accommodate the loaves of his butt, protruding like a shelf from his arched back. This was nothing like that manipulative box photo, so eager to turn you on but not wanting to offend. This was the real deal.
“They look good, man.”
“They’re so small.” He ran his fingers along the cup. “I never wore something like this before.”
“They’re totally sexy.”
“The waistband seems tight.”
“No, you look really hot in them.”
“I don’t know. I wonder if I need another size.”
Just then we heard women’s voices coming from the hall. “Get in here,” he said. I ducked under his arm and he shut the door behind me. The voices got closer, then more distant. They were going to the women’s changing area, on the other side of the hall.
We were close together in the stall. I could smell his body, slightly powdery but masculine. I could feel the heat of his skin next to mine.
“Feel em,” he said. “You think they fit?”
I touched the waistband, my finger brushing the tight skin of his stomach. I tucked my finger underneath the elastic, and ran them along his waist.
“Maybe a little tight, but not too bad.” My fingers followed the waistband, along the crevice of his pelvis, lower and lower, towards the pouch. His breathing changed. The pouch had swelled.
“I think I need a different pair.” My eyes were glued to the heavy rod straining to get out. “Maybe they’d fit you better. You want to try them on?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess so.”
“Just take them off of me.”
I got on my knees, grabbed the briefs by the elastic and slid them down, first revealing his curly pubes. Then the base of his shaft, thick like a stump. The elastic in the back popped around his ass and the briefs came off.
His cock rose in to the air. I looked at it for a moment, then he lifted up his foot and I took off the bikinis. He lifted his other foot. The head of his cock brushed against my cheek. It pressed, pulsed and hardened. Then it broke free, bouncing upward, leaving a small wet mark on my skin.
He stepped back.
“I bet they fit you good,” he said. “Try em on.” I took my shirt off first, my muscles flexing as I raised it above my head. I took off my pants. I was wearing boxers—not too sexy, but then I hadn’t planned on impressing anybody when I’d left the house that evening.
I took them off, letting him see it all. My dick was in a transitional state; not rock hard, but still at full attention; just waiting for the order to go in, invade, attack. It detached itself from my sticky balls and pointed at my friend.
I slid on the bikini briefs. Though a little stretched out (due to what had been contained in them previously) they hugged my ass and nuts well.
His eyes roamed my body, his hard dick lolling out in front of him.
“They look good on you. You gonna get em?”
“I don’t know.” I looked at myself in the mirror. Hey, I looked pretty fucking hot. “I think I might.”
“You do look fine.” Then he finally came to me, or I came to him, I don’t know which but we ended up against each other. His hard and warm body pressed against mine, his lips reached to my lips and we kissed. Our tongues met. His cock jabbed my pouch, the whole of my junk packed tight, then slid underneath it, between my thighs.
“My name’s Nate,” I said.
“Lewis.” His hand ran down my body, tweaking my nipple, cupping the warm pouch of my briefs. “You want to suck?”
“Okay,” I said, and slid off the bikinis. He pulled the bench out from the wall and laid back on it. I could hear the laughter of the two women down the hall. They were leaving.
He held his dick out to me.
“Get on,” he said. I straddled the bench, positioning my cock over his face. His lips wrapped around my shaft and slid it home. I took his cock in my hand. It was beefy and beautiful. I licked the tip, eating the stickiness off of the head. I nursed the head before sliding it along my tongue, my lips stretching to accommodate his girth.
He massaged my shaft with his mouth and throat, pulling my load a little further out of my balls with each pass. We sucked each other like a machine, one made for giving and receiving pleasure at the same time. He licked under my balls, his tongue insistent and fearless. It rode along my taint and touched the edge of my butthole. I gasped.
Just then a voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
“Attention! We will be closing in five minutes. Please make your final selections and bring them to the counter. As always, thank you for shopping at A.J. Jacobs.”
What the fuck? I thought. We hadn’t even been given a fifteen-minute warning.
Lewis did not even react. He ate my ass with pure abandon, burying his face in my crack and worming his tongue against my hole, forcing it to open and pushing inside. I sat down on his face and he moaned into my hole, the vibrations sending me somewhere else.
I ventured my own tongue toward his taint, and seeing that he was receptive, pulled his legs up so his ass rose into the air. Man, that ass. So fucking big and muscular. I pulled apart his cheeks, revealing a hairless crack and a pulsing smooth asshole. I went right for the gold. He tasted musky and delicious, and we fell easily into an ass-eating sixty-nine.
Time was short, but there was no stopping us now. We were pushing each other’s most vulnerable spots, each of us giving in to the other, digging the abandon.
I got my finger nice and wet, then went back to his dick, trying to take it in my throat all the way down to the root. He took my cock easily back down his throat. When he’d found his rhythm and I found mine, I touched my slick finger to his asshole and sank it inside.
Lewis moaned around my dick. His ass was hot and receptive. Two pumps inside and I could tell he was going to lose it. I sucked harder, pressing my tongue tight to his shaft and working it against the heart of his dick head.
His wet finger pressed against my asshole, and he slid it in knuckle-deep. The effect was shocking and intense. His lips expertly worked my dick while he finger fucked me. His groans came louder and faster.
Suddenly his ass clenched tight around my finger. A pure hot jet of semen went down my throat, followed by another which was even thicker and creamier. I tasted it, swallowing it all down eagerly as it issued from his cock.
He was touching that sacred part inside of me that tripped the switch, and I came in his mouth with moans of my own, letting my load spill on the back of his tongue. He drank it all down. A self-cleaning machine with less muss, less fuss.
We got up from the bench, and he kissed me again. The taste of our asses and loads passed on our tongues, mingling in our joined mouths.
We put the bench back against the wall and he picked up the bikinis. Smiling, he handed me a pair, and put one on himself. I put my old boxers in the box, and he stuffed his tighty-whities on top of that. On our way out of the fitting rooms, we tossed the box back into the bin.
There was the brief fear of getting caught as we walked past the cashier and through the security sensors. The knowledge of what we had gotten away with tethered us together like a string. The bikini briefs underneath our clothes were a shared secret, and we stood for a moment in the cool night air, the night spread out before us.
I didn’t know anything about him. The future was like so many choices on a rack. You just had to pick one that looked best. There wasn’t any telling if it would fit right or not. You had to try it and see.