Private Shopping at Leather Male in Chicago
Don't read this story if you don't want to read about sex between adult men.
This is a true story, from many years ago; I've only changed a few personal details for privacy's sake. I already had a fascination with skimpy Speedos and sexy underwear, but this experience cemented it for life. Feel free to email me with comments (Robr7@hotmail.com) if you like, or write with similar experiences if something like this has happened to you (similar things have happened to me over and over again -- hmm, maybe it's me.)
I was a bi married man, age 30, and had just dropped my family off in Chicago, so they could head east for a visit to the in-laws. I spent the night, then had to drive back to St. Louis that next day. I had known about Leather Male, a gay-run clothing shop in Chicago, for some time, but I don't remember how I found out about it -- probably some gay magazine (this was long before we could find things like this on the Internet -- something like 1985). I was in good shape -- I'm a swimmer, and I lifted weights for some bulk. I had phoned the shop a few days before, to get their address and directions to get there. Everything was set -- I was going to California in a few weeks, and was going to look for a "California suit," a Speedo that I imagined was available in Chicago but not pokey old St. Louis, a tiny little suit that I could wear on the sunny Southern California beaches, to show off my bod and get a tan.
I took off, supposedly for St. Louis, around 9 from the Northside, and got to the shop around 10. Parked across the street, got out, and went up to the door -- locked. The sign says they opened at noon! Shit,' I thought to myself, I forgot to ask when they opened. What am I going to do now?'
I sat in the car for a few minutes, stewing, and then saw a man come out of the front door of the shop, with a trash can in his hands. He walked down the sidewalk to the alley, and emptied the trash into a dumpster, then started walking back. I got out of the car and nearly sprinted across the street.
"Excuse me, but do you work in there?" I asked.
"Yeah, why?" he said.
"Well, I called a few days ago and got directions to here -- I'm from out of town, and was going to come by and shop for some stuff, but I didn't realize you don't open until 12, and the problem is I have to drive back home today, to St. Louis, and well, I was hoping ..." and I trailed off.
The guy sized me up, then smiled and said, "Hey, no problem, why don't you come on in. You're right, we don't really open until 12, but since it's just you, and you have to drive and all, well hell, just come on in."
"Thanks!" I sighed. "I've really been looking forward to this -- I was hoping to find some stuff that I just can't find at home, and well..." I probably sounded stupid, like a little kid.
"Don't worry, just come on in." And we went inside. The shop was still fairly dark, and he said "I'm gonna keep most of the lights off, so nobody else thinks we're open, if that's all right. And, don't panic or anything, but I gotta lock the front door again too -- it's against fire regulations and everything, but I don't want people just walking in." And then he looked at me again, and smiled real big. "Besides, it looks like it might be fun, being locked up in here with you for awhile." And then he laughed, to put me at ease.
"Well, yeah!", I replied. "I hope it's fun too!"
"OK, " he said. "Leather stuff is over here, t shirts and pants over there, underwear and swimsuits there, and exotic stuff is back over here. Just help yourself -- get anything you want, and the changing room is right over there. Gimme a call if you can't find anything, or if you need any help, ok?" And he headed over to the cash register, to continue getting ready for the business day.
"OK," I said. "I was hoping to find a Speedo, maybe a smaller one than I can find in St. Louis. You got anything like that?"
"Sure, here lemme show you," he replied. And he led me to the swimsuits, then turned around and sized me up. "I'd guess you're a 32 waist, am I right?"
"Yeah," I said. "32."
"Nice trim waist for a guy your height," he added. "OK, here's what we've got -- the regular Speedo, pretty tame if you ask me, so let's forget that one. Then there's their European cut, higher on the leg, and then this one, it's pieced, that is, 5 separate pieces of fabric sewn together, makes for a nice pouch in front, and see how nice and high it rides here on the leg. OK, here's some 32s in these two styles, why don't you take `em over to the changing room, and I'll get the light turned on for you.
And again I followed him. The changing room was dark -- he hit the switch, and there was a full length mirror, and a curtain that could be drawn for privacy. I started pulling my clothes off, then wondered if I should really pull the curtain -- after all, it was just this guy and me, and he'd been nice enough to let me in before opening time. Not knowing, I went ahead and pulled it halfway shut. About the time I had pulled the first Speedo on, the European one, he pulled the curtain open -- he had another handful of suits with him. He said "Hmm, well, that one's pretty conservative too -- doesn't do your body justice. Try the pieced one and let me see -- I'll be right back."
And he turned to leave, leaving the curtain open -- so I left it open too. I pulled the first suit off, and put on the tiny, pieced Speedo -- had just gotten it pulled up and in place when he returned with yet more suits in his hands.
"Yeah, that's much better. Here, come over to the stage and you can see better."
The stage? What was he talking about? I followed him out of the changing room, around the corner, and there was a raised area, probably 8 X 8, with mirrors on 3 sides, literally a stage. I climbed the two stairs and stood in the middle -- and then he hit the light switch, and I was bathed in warm, glowing light. I could see every cut in my muscled body, and every seam and curve in the pieced Speedo.
He climbed the stairs and joined me on the stage. "See," he said, as he pointed to the suit. "This does a good job of showing you off. You have a nice flat belly, great six pack abs, and a nice tight ass," and he turned me by the shoulders so I could see my ass in the mirror. "See how this suit hugs your butt, but doesn't mash it down?" And his hand lightly brushed my butt, as if demonstrating. "And see how the waist dips down just a little bit in front, like your heavy dick is pulling the pouch down? That's a good fit -- makes everyone think you're packing some serious heat down there!" And he smiled that big generous smile as he gave a brief, gentle pat at my crotch!
"Yeah," I said, smiling too. "I like it -- like the way it fits. And," and I stammered a bit, I guess out of embarrassment, "I like the part about packing serious heat too." And we both laughed.
"OK," he said finally. "Brought some more for you to try -- here." And he thrust about 4 more suits into my hands, then walked off. I didn't know exactly what to do -- go back to the changing room, stay on the stage? Decided the changing room was better -- so I went back and changed into the first one, then came back to the stage to see it. `Nah,' I thought, not as good as the Speedo. Trekked back to the changing room to change into the second one, and realized that the back and forth was just too much trouble -- so brought the rest of them back with me to the stage, and just stood there and changed into the rest. Figured, what the hell, it's just me and this guy, nobody else in the darkened store -- so who cares if I'm up on the stage, stripping naked in front of all those mirrors. And anyway, I looked pretty good in those mirrors! At some point, I realized that my friend was there by the stage, watching the show -- I looked over at him, with my expression saying "come on, say something."
"OK, here's what I'm thinking," he said, again with the smile. "First, that pieced Speedo is the best one for you -- gives me a hard-on seeing you in it." And he licked his lips, maybe unintentionally. Then he went on. "And second, I'm thinking that maybe you might want to try some of the other things we have here -- cuz man, you'd look hot in some of the things we've got, and I know you'd like trying them on, seeing yourself in them. And third, honestly, I'd like seeing you in them, even if you don't think you want to get them later on."
"Things like what?" I asked, my cock notching up a bit more.
"Well, here, let me show you while you get out of that last suit -- just toss it over there in the pile. I'll put `em away later."
He was back in no time at all, with some black shorts and what appeared to be swimsuits -- some with buckles, some with zippers. Some were thongs, some were sheer, some had stripes down the side. I noticed that he'd unbuttoned his shirt, and was barefooted by now, which somehow seemed right since I was standing on a fully lit stage, bare-assed naked, and my cock was about half hard from the excitement. Plus, as he had surely noticed, I was starting to get into this scene -- this hot man catering to me and my obsession with skimpy swimsuits, putting me on a stage with mirrors all around, flattering my body, touching me ever so lightly, commenting on my build -- it was getting supercharged.
We started with a sheer pair of shorts -- looked hot, but not really my style. A fishnet thong -- I liked how my dick showed through the fishnet, and so did he, and he pointed out how hot my butt looked with the black strap going down my crack. He could tell I was starting to chub up, and when I bounced around some when I pulled the thong off he laughed softly, then said "God, don't you love a hard-on?" And then he answered his own question -- "Me too!" And he laughed again.
And then he said, "Here, let's give these a try." A pair of short shorts, thin black nylon, with a lace-up front. I pulled them on, then tied the laces, but got them too tight -- so I looked up, and said "Uh, maybe you can help me a little with the laces? I'm getting them all bunched up."
"Sure, I'd love to help -- and see, I was right -- you are packing heat down there!" he said. And he came up close, then got down on his knees, so his face was only inches from my crotch. First he untied the laces, and loosened them, the readjusted the material of the shorts -- his hand couldn't help brushing against my crotch, of course. Then he slowly laced them up again, and tied the bow. Then he patted the whole package, and backed off so I could see in the mirror -- and by now I was almost completely hard, my cock poking the fabric out.
"That's one of the great things about these shorts," he added. "There's room to grow -- if you grow too much, just loosen the laces." And he beamed, as his face got closer to my crotch again, his breath hot against the front of the shorts. "But we have an even better little something for that condition -- you gotta try these."
And he reached behind him and got a black swimsuit, handed it to me, and had me strip out of the shorts and pull the swimsuit on. As I pulled it on, I realized that it had two nylon zippers, one down the center in the front, and one down the center in the back. I looked up at him, with what was surely an evil smile on my face. "So what's the condition that these take care of exactly?"
"Here," he said, "let me show you." And he stood up, facing me, and stood very close. "But first, would you mind if I get as comfortable as you?"
"No, I think you should," I replied. "In fact, here, let me help you." And I reached over and pulled his shirt from his shoulders, then undid his belt and the button on his jeans -- he took care of the rest, pulling his jeans down, standing there in front of me in a black mesh thong. The precum had completely wetted through the mesh in front, and he was as hard as I was -- so I reached over and felt his dick through the wet material. He groaned and pushed closer to me. And then he spoke again.
"We often find ourselves in just this position -- hard, but trapped inside whatever we're wearing. But if a guy is wearing that suit that you have on, he's got a solution -- just unzip, and he's ready for action," he whispered to me, as I continued to fondle his cock through the wet black mesh.
"Can you show me how it works?" I responded, in fake curiosity, pretending to need a lesson, knowing full well that he wanted to show me.
"I'd love to demonstrate it for you," he replied, as he again licked his lips. And he sank to his knees again, and slowly, gently, pulled on the zipper tab, pulling it down, careful not to catch anything as it descended, and continued to pull it until my completely hard dick sprang free. He immediately swallowed my cock into his warm, juicy mouth, and started sucking it deep inside. Ahhh -- ah, what a talented, experienced mouth. He backed off, and licked up and down my shaft, moaning as he licked the head, his tongue doing circles, then going down on me again all the way. As he sucked me, his hands went around to my ass, and his fingers slowly pulled down the zipper in back, until my entire ass crack was exposed too, and then with both hands he massaged my ass. One finger probed my ass, going down further and further, until it finally hit my asshole. He felt my pucker quivering, starting to open up to his finger. While still swallowing my dick, he pulled his hand back around, and jammed his hand into his own crotch, lubing his fingers with his precum. And then he gobbled my dick down his throat even further as his finger entered my ass. Aw, I was in heaven -- my Leather Male man was sucking my dick and finger fucking my ass -- on stage, no less! It couldn't have taken long, I was so turned on -- I came big time -- I spewed buckets of cum down his throat while he sucked, feeling my cock deep inside his mouth and his finger all the way up my ass. And when I finally came down from that incredible high, I looked down and saw that he'd cum buckets too -- his mesh thong was soaked with white cum, as was the floor of our little stage. He reached down, scooped up some of his cum, and rubbed it all over his stomach and chest, while I kissed his face gently.
I bought the pieced Speedo, of course, and the short shorts, and a couple of other things. He gave me a couple of tank tops at half price -- said they would look good on me. And he insisted that I take the zipper suit as a gift -- said that any time I was in Chicago, I had to come by for another private shopping spree. I kept them on -- put my jeans on over them, and one of the tank tops, and he walked me out to the car. He got in on the passenger side for a couple of minutes. And after he checked to make sure no one was around, he unfastened my jeans, unzipped the suit, and leaned over and gave my dick another few licks. I ditched the jeans and tank top, and told him I'd drive home to St. Louis just wearing the zipper suit -- with my dick hanging out. And I did (which surprised -- and pleased -- the hell out of the hot hitchhiking college boy I picked up a while later. But that's another story.)