SHOP TIL YOU DROP
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM
My sister steered me toward the tailor's shop she'd been raving about. I dodged a couple of teenaged girls en route who were apparently trying to run into me. They giggled and one hand reached out toward my crotch and I managed to dodge it. God, it's enough to make you throw up, the way girls are getting these days, it's gone beyond the flirtation of my youth all the way out to brazen grabs at my cock! I ran a gamut of hands and stares and giggles every time I go out.
As if to underline that, my sister noticed my reaction. "God, Brad, quit acting like you're one of those guys who don't like to be touched!"
"I don't want to be touched!" I agreed.
"They were just flirting with you."
"I don't call a crotch grab flirting with me!"
"It's not that bad!" my sister scoffed.
"You want to bet?" I challenged her.
Now, I'm NOT a male model. I'm NOT a movie star. I'm just an ordinary guy who'd had the bad luck to be born too damned pretty! Honest, if I'd had any desire to be a model or such, it wouldn't be so bad, but as it was, hell! I get a job in an office and I have to fend off advances from the secretaries all the way up to the female chief financial officer. I go to a bar and I get phone numbers by the handful and a fair number of free drinks. I go to the beach and...but I don't go to the beach anymore, so many eyeball tracks over your nearly nude body can really freak you out. I'd lost my virginity at fourteen, been sexually satiated at seventeen, and now at twenty-three, I just wanted to be left alone!
For anyone else, this would be a dream come true. Me, I'm just wanted to be an ordinary guy. I'd thought about plastic surgery, something to make my face a little less perfect, my nose a little less regal, my jaw a little less dynamic. It's a bitch being too good-looking if you don't want to deal with the baggage that goes with it, and I didn't!
Well, at least the tailor's was a man's clothing only store. I could count on few if any women inside. Though God knows if any were in there, I'd be trying on clothes for a female audience!
But the store was clear. Just a young man who scurried over and said, "May I help you, sir?" His hair was sandy, his body thin but well-formed, his smile fairly sizzled as he saw me. Even the tailors who have families and children have that look, I think it's a sort of sublimation that they have, it lets them feast their eyes upon the male body on a regular basis without the inconvenience of hitting a gay bar. They never go any further than looking at their customers' bodies...until I come in to buy a suit, that is.
"Yeah, I need to get some suits made." I said. Looked over my shoulder. I could be seen from the mall. "Can we take this to the back of the store, maybe?"
The salesman followed my gaze, two young women were peering inside the window. "Certainly, sir, this way, if you please."
There was an area at the back perfect for trying on suits. While not a room, it was a clear area, with a three-angle mirror and enough room to move about. A pedestal in the middle helped the tailor get the sizes right.
"If you'll be so kind as to remove your shoes and trousers, sir." the man said to me.
"I take a size 24 waist." I told him as I kicked off my loafers. "And a 28 length."
"Of course, sir, and a medium jacket." his tone said that he had known my sizes the minute he saw me. "How about the French silk in dark blue?"
"That sounds fine." I said, unfastening my jeans, pulling them down to my ankles (they were a snug fit) and stepped out of them. Looked up. The salesman was still there, and his eyes were not on my face.
"Uh, the French silk?" I said. "24 waist, 28 long?"
"Right, sir, right." the salesman shook himself and took off. Looking back as he did so, bumped into a rack of clothes, caught himself, and went into the back room.
I shook my head. This is a yearly ordeal for me. If I'm going to get my new suits, I have to come in and be measured and run the gauntlet. I can avoid a lot of the casual contacts of the mall patrons easily enough. But in the store, it's just me and the clerk.
He came back in a moment and said, "Here we go, sir."
I put the jacket on first and then stepped into the slacks, fastened and zipped them up.
"How does the fit feel to you, sir?" the clerk said, coming toward me.
"It's fine." I said. "Same as last year."
"Let me check the fit on you."
"You don't really have to." I said.
"But sir, we pride ourselves on making every suit a personal experience." the clerk said. "If you'll permit me to check the adjustments."
"Go ahead." I sighed. Every year the same thing.
His hand came up and pressed my crotch from underneath. Not feeling me up...or not exactly. "Is that too tight on you, sir?"
"No." I said.
"Do you dress right or left?"
"Left." He was asking which leg of the trousers I aimed my cock at when wearing pants, every clerk every year asked me that. It was the usual prelude to....
"It's important that we allow you sufficient room for your mode of dress...right here." His hand was now on my cock. Feeling it out. "If you don't have the right cut, it can be...very uncomfortable."
"I feel comfortable." I said. But his hand didn't stop.
"Maybe we should have a closer look." was his rather unoriginal ploy.
I sighed. "Sure. Why not?" I wasn't getting out of this. Not and get my suits, and I needed my suits.
His hand went to the fly and undid and unzipped my pants with the practiced alacrity of the tailor. He opened the fly and reached up to pull the pants down. It was only accidental that my briefs also got caught and lowered as he lowered my pants. Yeah, right!
"Yes, I can see that we'll have to do some adjusting here." the clerk crooned as he pulled my dong on out of my briefs. "We wouldn't want this to be a source of discomfort for you."
"It wasn't." I said helplessly.
His hand was working my pud, maybe when I turn fifty I can take a hand on my cock and it not get hard. For now, though, all I could do was watch as Old Faithful rose the occasion once more.
"Yes, I can see now that the fit of these pants is not going to work for you without a significant alteration." the clerk said.
Get it over with! "Maybe if you would help me deflate it again so you can get a proper fit?" I sighed.
"Of course, sir." the clerk said. "We aim to please our customers." And his mouth reached up and slid over my dong.
"I'm sure you do."
At least he wasn't like the guy of two years ago. Elderly, the guy had some kind of palsy going, his hands shaking. Also his lips as he sucked on me. At least this guy was young and pretty cute. Oh, God, and he could suck cock like a pro!
"Ohhh, man!" I gasped.
His lips were slurping noisily now, he had worked up a good load of spit and that was making the liquid sounds as his mouth slid up and down on my tool. Oh, God, this guy was worth it! So damned worth it! I'd been dreading the yearly "suit-suck" I had to endure to get my new suits, but the clerk now gulping down my prod to the very base was a lot better than most of the sex I'd had.
"Oh, ah, uh, guh!" I guttered. "God, you're good! Man, I'm about to shoot my nut here!"
"Mmmh, mmm-hmm!" was his muffled response, I think that was meant to be, "Oh, you bet!"
"Gonna come, gonna come, uh-uh-uh, GUHHHHH!"
"Mmmh, muhh, GHHH, NNHHH!" I think the guy just came in his pants while sucking me! It happened. They get so turned on by my body and my killer good-looks (not bragging, just stating a fact drummed into me by the near unending line of gropes and suggestions I endured whenever I went out in public), these men would suck me and when I shot my wad into their throats, they would shudder and spurt in their briefs. Kind of a special compliment, not to mention it let me avoid having to reciprocate when I didn't want to.
As it was, I got to enjoy my orgasm in peace. His mouth never stopped, even while he was moaning, and that added a specially nice dimension to the sucking, I squirted his mouth full and that was sloshing around my cock while he groaned, then he caught himself long enough to gulp it down and then he moaned some more. Damned good blowjob, even for a tailor-shop special.
Done, I said, panting, "Can we get my suit fitting done now?"
"Uh, huh, uh!" the clerk panted. "Certainly, sir." His hands trembled as he wielded the tape and marked the cuffs, but he got it all done.
Stood up and said, "We also have the French silk in gray, medium brown, and gray pinstripe."
"I'll take one blue, one gray and one brown." I said. "And I'll need some shirts."
"We don't sell shirts." the clerk explained. "Store rules about competition, we had to leave the shirts to the department stores at the anchors (he meant the two ends of the mall) and to David's Shirts. Just down that way and next level up."
"Oh, great!" I groaned. Another stop on the way." I got my jeans back on, and went to tread the travails of the mall once more.
Other than a contact with a girl I'd figured too young to be interested, I got through without undue difficulty. I fielded that little hand and cast a nervous look at her mother, but Mom was too busy slavering after me to notice what her little precious darling had just done.
David's Shirts was just that, shirts and nothing else. Maybe I can get in and out of her intact after all.
"May I help you, sir?" came the voice. I turned and saw the rather large black man with the yellow name tag and those eyes that blazed like black fire and I groaned.
"Yes, I need some shirts." I said. "I wear a 16 inch neck, 32 long."
He didn't bother much with the usual coating of nonsense. Just came over and said, "I think we can fit you out." and his hand came up and cupped one of my breasts. "Give you a real nice covering on these pretty little tits of yours."
"Uh, six shirts, two white, two blue and the others, what colors do you have, maybe a yellow or a pink?" I got out.
And his hands circled me and his lips reached not for my own, but for my neck. His body was firm against mine and his hand came down and cupped my buttocks, pulled me tight against him. I felt that hard dong up against my leg and I knew that I wasn't getting away with just letting him give me a blow job here.
We ended up with me thrown onto a table loaded with shirts and the plastic wrapping of them crinkled under me. His full lips were reaching for my crotch, but he was shoving his own unleashed dong at me as well. Man, what a monster! Ten full inches of hard black dick, I was going to take it or else!
I sighed. At least the guy was hunkalicious, better than some I'd ended up with in my excursions. When his mouth swarmed over my spent but willing rod, I went ahead and took him in my own lips, managed not to choke when he rammed in on down! God, what a tower of manhood he had, I could've enjoyed this a lot more if I didn't have stiff shirt collars biting into my back and a cock that had already been pretty well drained less than ten minutes before.
He sucked at me diligently, pausing only to spray his wad down my throat halfway, and then he kept it up as I suckled his flaccid pole, managed to bring myself up to the heights of delight once more. I didn't have the volume I gave the suit shop clerk, but I leaking a teaspoon or so of jism onto his tongue and he settled for that earnest in payment, let me up again.
"Got a hot little body on you." he said as we did our clothes up. "I could take you home with me and give you a real ride."
Looking into his eyes, I knew which one of us would be the rider and which one the horse he rode! "I'll give you my number." I promised him. "Now about my shirts...."
He got a number from me all right, though I paid him in cash. The number would connect him to a retirement center, but he got the number and grinned as I left, bag in hand, with the shirts and with three silk ties I saw as he was fetching the shirts in my sizes. One less stop to have to make.
"Now just a pair of shoes." I gasped. "Please, God, just a pair of shoes this time, huh?"
The slim, blond guy in the shoe store smiled as I came in. "Welcome, sir, what can I do to you...for you?"
I sighed. You can't win them all!
As usual with my shoe-buying, he picked the chance as he was fitting my shoes to my feet to slide that hand on up my leg. When it got to my crotch, I moaned. It wasn't passion, but he took it as that and dove to mouth my groin. I managed a feeble erection and he got my pants open and began sucking on me, hard and fast but without a lot of panache. I had to fake an orgasm that time, but I had enough precome leaking out (or post-come, might be a better word) that he was fooled by my grunts and groans.
I got my shoes, wondered if I dared try for a belt or just get out of there. Next time, when I was ready to buy a new watch, maybe, I'd pick up a new belt.
My sister met me at the hair salon which had been her reason for coming by. "Brad, you're done already?" she asked in dismay.
"Yeah." I said. "If you're done with your hair, let's get out of here." I was watching the women in the shop. They might mass up and rush me, you know. That hadn't happened yet, but it was my main fear when faced with women feeding on each other's whispered comments behind their hands as they ogled me.
My sister was bitching but let me lead her out. I suffered no worse than a pretty strong grip by an old woman with a walker (a walker!) as we walked by her. My sister thought it was funny, but she'd never believed me when I told her my travails when I went out in public.
"I swear, Brad, you think you're so damned attractive to women." she sneered. "It really is pathetic."
"What about Geriatric Gertie and her Grope of Death?" I asked her.
"She's senile. I wish you enjoyed shopping more, Brad."
"I shopped until I dropped. If I enjoyed it any more, I'd be dead now." I assured her. And we escaped the mall and, secure behind my car's tinted windows, I headed back home once again.
THE END
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WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
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