Massage Me.
By Alex Carbine
Chapter Nine.
Tasty! Tasty! Very Very Tasty!
When I arrived at the Pasta House, there was just Art sitting on his own. "Where are the others?" I asked sitting opposite him. "Still in bed," he said, almost morosely. "We had a late night last night. Actually it was a late morning by the time we all got to bed. We got involved in some guy's Birthday Party, and you know how things can go!" He tried to smile but it just did not work for him. "Sorry, Alex," he finished lamely. "It's OK," I consoled him. "I understand it's what you all do. Work is work. The world continues to spin, after all." At this he looked up and actually did smile. "Thanks Mate." he said. "I feel like Death warmed up, but I had to come out and see you. Couldn't just miss you or anyfink. Not like the rest. I tried to get them up, but they just couldn't be buggered."
"More to the point, they probably had been!" I joked. He looked at me and the penny had obviously not dropped on what I had said. "They had probably been buggered." Still nothing. "Last night, They had probably all had it up the bum after I left. With the Birthday Boy. Got fucked. Took it up the chutney locker. You know what I mean ..." By this time he was laughing. "Yeah" he nodded. "The Birthday Boy and his Mates all fucked and sucked us good and proper. At the end we got a bonus, as we left. That don't 'appen often too!" The Waitress approached and we ordered our Breakfast.
"So what do you want to do?" I asked looking over a Full English Breakfast, toast and tea. "I really don't feel up to much," confided Art, stabbing at his eggs with a fork. "OK," I said, inspirationally, "If the others can't be buggered, we'll do without them! Today I'm going to spoil just you! Today is going to be your day!" Art shrugged and gave me a half enthusiastic "What ever" as he dragged some bacon through the split egg yokes. 'This is going to be uphill' I thought to myself. "Have another coffee and try to clear the hangover," I suggested gently.
I have to admit that Art perked up when I had filled his stomach and poured four large coffees into him. In conversation I asked him if he wanted to buy an outfit or underwear or anything, and he knew of an underwear shop he would like to look in. The Taxi driver gave me an 'old fashioned' look when Art told him where we wanted to go, but made no comment. His narrowed eyes just kept looking at me in his mirror every time I looked at him as he drove there. When we arrived I understood why. Firstly the shop was off the main High Street, and secondly, it had a foreign sounding name, and the sign outside proclaimed that it had a wide selection of pleather and rubber fetish ware in stock. We went in.
The door knocked a hanging tinkly bell as we opened and closed it. There were racks of rubber vests, leggings and pants (of all shapes and sizes) on one side and racks of pleather clothing on the other. The walls were decorated in 'early Gestapo', with whips and hoods in both materials. Art slowly made his way round, looking and feeling everything. A man of mid 30s appeared from the back and minced into view. He was wearing a tight pleather 't' shirt, which left a gap of two inches of flesh to show off his umbilical, before the waist band of an even tighter pleather shorts started. They left nothing to the imagination, as everything he had was on show, if we were to believe the lumps and bumps that we could see. I think I could even see the ridge of his glans.
"Can I help you Sir," he purred, "or am I to get something just for your young chicken here?" "Quite possibly a bit of both," I answered with a smile. I watched his eyes travel up and down me, and then take a lot longer as he sized up Art. Art chose just then to scratch his balls and his ass as he looked at the products on show, and I am sure the bulge in the front of the assistant's trousers pulsed bigger and more pronounced as a result.
"I am interested in a pleather jockstrap of some kind. Maybe you could show me what you have. And Art here will tell you what he wants in good time," I told him. He took my right elbow and guided me over to some hanging racks where various pleather jocks were on show. "If we don't have the right size, Sir, I am sure we can make the necessary alterations," he said with a smile, but keeping a weather eye on Art, to make sure his products did not 'walk'. I felt a black chamois jock with a narrow waist band, and it was so soft it felt like silk. "What do you think Art?" I asked, holding it up for him to see the soft pleather version of the Gregg Homme Boy Toy jock I already had in pleather. "They probably have your waist size, but will it take your size of meat and two veg?" he answered giving the assistant a mischievous lecherous grin.
"We have fitting rooms, Sir, just over there," the assistant said, seemingly nervously, pointing to several rooms with curtain doors. I took several jocks from their hangers and went 'over there' to give them a try on. I had hardly taken my trousers, shoes and pants off when the assistant popped his head through the curtains to ask if I was "Getting on alright without me?" As he watched, and saw exactly how big my 'meat and two veg' were, I tried the first jock on, but felt it was a bit small, and told him so.
He slid into the room sideways and sat on the edge of the chair at the back of the cubicle. I faced him and his warm hands went round behind me, and he caressed my bare bum cheeks, pulling me closer to his face, before his thumbs ran down the inside of the leg straps, making sure they were not twisted and laying right. He came to the bottom, where the straps joined the base of the pouch and he wriggled his thumbs so that they tickled in the hollow of my anus, smiling quietly to himself.
I began to feel the blood flowing and my cock tightening as I started to thicken. He put two of his long fingers into the waist band and ran them round my body, before putting a finger from each hand into each side side of the pouch and running them up and down the pouch edge, ostensibly to check the fit, but in actuality touching my balls and stroking the sides of my hardening cock tube. He looked up into my eyes and licked his lips before speaking. "I think Sir will need a slightly larger pouch," He pulled the jock to my knees and my almost erect cock sprang out towards him. "Naughty!" he said laughing and pulled the jock to the ground so that I could step out of it. He was sitting on the chair and bending over in such a way, that as I moved in this confined space, his head came up to touch under my balls before he pulled away, and stood up. "But nice," he said.
We were standing front to front, my hardening cock pushing against his soft pleather shorts, our cock helmets separated by the thin film of his pleather shorts. He selected another jock from those that I had brought in with me, and sat back onto the chair, my twitching cock at his head height now. He leaned forward and licked the bead of clear cum from my piss slit with the tip of his long tongue. I made no move to stop him, just smiled. "Can you put your feet into these?" he said holding the leg straps of the next jock low for me. He watched how I moved for him as I did as he bid, my balls and cock jiggling and waving from side to side as I was stepping into the new jock.
He noted out loud that the pleather pouch slid over my erection perfectly as he slid the waist band up over my hips, watching the band slide over the tube of my cock until the helmet finally disappeared from view, and that my balls nested easily into the shaped pouch at the bottom of the jock. With light fingertips he checked the lie of my cock and balls, patting my hard cock more than once before finishing with his fingers lazily tracing up the crack of my ass from the bottom of the pouch to come to rest on the waist band. Again he leaned forwards and this time he gently kissed the edge line of my flared helmet, now hidden behind it's new soft black glove. "I think that's a perfect fit Sir," he said contentedly. He stood and exited from the changing cubicle, his trailing hand brushing tenderly across my new purchase. When I returned back into the shop dressed, both Art and the assistant had disappeared, until I heard them almost at the back of the shop. I went down there to see what they were doing.
Art was standing naked with his hands on his hips. The assistant was kneeling on the floor. He had a tape measure in his hands and was measuring Art's erection. "Rather liked the look of this geaser's shorts, y'know," said Art, completely unembarrassed, as the assistant measured first one side of his cock, and then repeated his measuring process on the other side. "'E said 'e would 'ave ta measure me for the fit. An' I got an 'ard on, like." The assistant stood up and hung the measure round his neck, then, lovingly stroking Art's stiff cock lightly up and down with his hand he proclaimed, "I know the very one for him, I think." He turned to me, "I may have to make a wee alteration here and there, and then a fitting, but I am sure I can get It to fit to perfection." Then with both hands he centred his own hard erection in his shorts and minced off, to return almost immediately with a pair of black pleather minuscule shorts.
"If the young Sir will let me help him into them," the assistant suggested, but with the Way of Youth, Art took them from him and stepped into them, pulling them up his legs until his bottom was covered and his thick cock pointed out of the open fly. Until this time I had not realised that the shorts had an oval slit in the base of them to give easy access to the wearer's ass hole. Holding a shoe horn over the misbehaving cock to guard it from the teeth, the assistant pulled up the zip. He then knelt down again and got Art to turn for him, so he could see how the shorts fitted. His hands smoothed every inch of the shorts, running first over the tight pleather stretched over Art's bum cheeks and then putting a finger up his crack, into the access hole to check for stretching and chafing of the pleather hole. Then he moved to the front fly, checking that Art's stiffy and balls were nicely settled. When he was satisfied he looked up at Art and asked, "And how does it feel for Sir?"
Art walked in a circle and then declared, "It feels like I want cum in it. Its' so soft and ... well...sexual." "It's just the same with mine, Sir. I go round loving them, and they love me back, all the time." He beamed a smile. "And if and when you do cum Sir, it you won't leave a stain or ooze through the front of Sir's nice suit trousers, Sir." His head went over on to one side as he took in the view, and then turned to me. "And you Sir, are you happy with what we found for You, Sir?" "Indeed I am, and I am wearing it now, Thank You. Can you throw these away for me?" I handed him my original pants, and he took them and held them up to his face, taking a deep breath. His face was a big smile when he lowered them. "Oh thank you Sir!" he said, fluttering his eyelids.
"Art are you ready to get dressed or do you want anything else?" Art shook his head, smiling so his teeth showed. Then he stopped and asked, "Can I have a top like 'is as well?" he asked. "A wonderful choice, young Sir. I call it my 'second skin'. Like you I had my first one taken away," he giggled. Art looked at me with a frown. I mouthed the word 'foreskin' at him and he 'Oohed' with understanding before giving a forced laugh. The assistant measured across his shoulders, and down his spine. When he came to measure Art's chest he made a great show of passing the tape round his body, with his face cheek pressed firmly to one of Art's boy breasts for a moment, whilst he looked at me and mouthed the word Lucky', before flouncing off. When he returned he had the pleather shirt over his arm.
"If Sir will let me?" he asked Art, and Art let him help put the shirt over his head and smooth it down his body. Stepping back as if to admire his work, the assistant gave a long sigh, that sounded like, "Perfect," before his hand went to the obvious tube in his own shorts. Giving himself three or four rubs he suddenly shuddered, his eyes closed. Then he slowly returned back into his shop world. "There, look what you almost made me do now," he said to Art, almost coyly. "I would be going round feeling sticky for the rest of the morning." This time Art gave a real laugh, put his hand on the assistant's lumps, and rubbed them for him. The assistant's arms went out to either side in a cruciform, his face showing mock alarm, letting the boy total access to his privates.
Art moved in closer, his hand still cupping the assistant's front bulges. He kissed the man, and I saw that for some seconds they were tonguing each other. I did not feel jealousy, more a feeling of rising lust. He broke away for a breath. "I'm Art," he said. "I'm Derek," said the assistant, his arms still outstretched. Art dropped to his knees, and Derek twisted at the hip and looked at me. I shook my head in wonderment at the boy's capacity for sex, as he unzipped Derek's trousers and carefully levered the stiff hidden treasure into view. Then I shrugged at Derek and smiled my encouragement. "He'll give as good as he gets, and more," I told him.
Derek's hands lowered slowly to rest on Art's head of hair, whilst Art took Derek's length into his mouth, licking the back of the glans first and then sliding the hard shaft deep to the back of his throat. I went back to the shop front door, and turned the hanging notice to 'Sorry, Closed'. When I came back Derek ass was sawing back and forth like a fiddler's elbow, pumping his prick in and out of Art's willing mouth, Art's chin dripping saliva as he gobbled and slurped the cock. Art had not unclipped Derek's waistband, just unzipped his shorts, so Derek's well proportioned cock stuck out from the black pleather shorts, but his balls were still encased.
I took off my jacket, kicked off my shoes and dropped my trousers. My cock was straining in it's new black pleather home. I slid my hand up and down the tube's shape, luxuriating in the feeling of the soft pleather sliding over hard meat. Art was now holding Derek's cock with one hand and riding his mouth along and back the jutting length, Derek helping by guiding his head, looking down at his disappearing and appearing cock. He saw Art's free hand snake round behind himself and could just imagine the sensual feeling as Art pushed a finger into his own bum now that he was wearing shorts that would let him do it.
I moved behind Derek and smoothed my hands over the twin orbs of his purt, bubble butt. With Art doing all the work he was able to push back a little into my hands. I let 'my middle fingers do the walking' and they crept in towards each other, searching for the hole in the pleather I knew would be there. Derek's head dropped back onto his shoulders, as he stood open mouthed with his taught legs apart and his back arched, Art sucking his extended cock at the front, my two fingers feeling across his anus at the back.
He must have already been lubed, as my fingers slipped easily into his moist, hot cavern. I pushed my fingers up into him, and he gave a contented sigh. Art's hand wanked him harder, faster, as his swirling wet tongue over-stimulated the fat bare knob head in his mouth. He was making Derek's eruption a definite fact, leaving just 'when' to be the question. I kissed Derek's neck as I finger-fucked his hole, leaning in to his butt so that my pleather encased erection could friction against his bum cheeks and my jockstrap.
I felt Derek give a jerk and a gasp, and his sphincter clenched round my fingers tightly. I gave them a wiggle hoping I was in far enough to stimulate his prostate. He clenched them hard again. Looking around his shoulders I could see that Art was letting Derek spray his thick globs of cum, the jerking cock spitting out another cum rope to land this time over Art's nose. Then Art enveloped the sensitive head in his soft young mouth and remained motionless, letting Derek pump his remaining seed where Art could taste it, feel it, relish it. I let my fingers slip out of Derek's bum carefully. Derek was pulling Art's head hard onto the base of his cock as Art sucked the last vestiges of sperm out of him. Both of them were in worlds of their own imaginations.
Then they each came down off their individual Mount Olympus, and back to reality. Art stood up and Derek was able to taste his own spunk as they tongued each other again. I could not see if they were swapping cum, but I am sure that with the amount of ejaculate he had donated, Derek would have been able to get back his fair share.
With the heat and sweat generated whilst he sucked Derek, Art's shorts were now shaped, stretched and clinging to his cock and balls like a second skin. Derek took a final look at Art and gave him his stamp of approval with a, "That's it! I told you that after the first fitting, they would fit you properly." He kissed Art on the end of the nose, then busied himself with his shoe horn, zipping himself back into his shorts again.
Art tried to give him some help, but was really, I think, just wanting to have a final fondle. I let Art have his fun for a few moments and then coughed tactfully. "What a wonderful young friend you have Sir," Derek said as I pulled him to one side and gave him my credit card. The transaction was made and we left Derek dreamily smelling Art's underwear as we walked out and back to the Main Street.
"What do you think of the shorts, then?" I asked. "Fucking A!," he grinned. "If I don't cum in them as I walk along, before the day is out, I will be fuckin' amazed!" He ran a hand up the zip fly of his blue jeans, tracing the shape of his still-hard cock, as it pointed toward his right hip. "Aw! Fuckin' hell! What can I say? Thanks Alex, they're great." I thought they had looked great too, and I felt great too, walking in my soft pleather jock, the crutch of my trousers now sawing lightly over my bare anus. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You had a spot of cum still there," I told him. "Fuck off," was his educated reply.
For those of you interested 'pleather' is a new plastic based material that is as soft as leather and looks the same, without killing and skinning an animal.
If you have enjoyed this part of the story, and have any ideas for further adventures, let me know at alex.carbine@sky.com
You can read more of my tales if you scroll down the opening page of Nifty.org to the 'Stories by Prolific Web Authors'. Click on it and find my name, Alex Carbine. Let me know how you get on.
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