The Embarrassment of Riches Chapter Seven: The Display
The people, places and events of this story are fictional and any resembelences to real people, real places or real events would be really cool. Also Unlikely.
Early on a Saturday morning, Martin roused from sleep and rolled over onto a cool spot of the bed where the sheet has been left bereft of the cover that is wrapped around Martin himself. He took a deep breath at the coldness and rolled back where it was warm. His alarm hasn't sounded yet and he isn't ready to open his eyes.
Martin already knows it will still be dark; the curtains are thick and heavy and 7AM in November in Scotland is as black as midnight.
November! How did that even happen?
The year was flying by and Martin felt swept along by its current. Flying by, swept away; was that a mixed metaphor?
Martin's musings on Higher English were disturbed by the drone of his alarm; he grabbed his phone and cut off the sound before it had a chance to truly disturb him. He was already awake. Martin stared up at the ceiling with his phone still in his hand and sighed heavily. The phone in his hand weighed of guilt and depression and misery and self-indulgent pity.
He had ignored E.J. (more or less) for two weeks now. They had texted several times, or rather E.J. had texted and Martin had continued to chicken out. He liked E.J. very much – that was the problem – and now he felt horribly depraved for leading the man on. Martin, he rationalised, was still a boy and E.J. was a man. Nearly a decade separated them and Martin had gotten on his knees and sucked his cock. E.J. had enjoyed it but how would he feel if he knew Martin was still in school uniform five days a week?
As Martin sat up and swung his bare legs out of bed he rubbed sleep from his eyes, his big feet cast shadows on the floor as he tugged on his bedside lamp. He had not responded to E.J.'s last message which was now five days old. Martin now felt guilty that E.J. would feel spurned and never know why; somehow this seemed worse than telling the truth.
Martin thumbed at his phone and tapped in a message.
[E.J. I feel bad for running out on u & not telling you why. Didn't want u 2 hate me for lying about my age. I never meant things to go so far without telling u I'm really 17.]
Send.
Martin set a leisurely pace for getting ready. Shower, a bit of a tug without cumming, then dressed. His mum was in the kitchen by the time he got down stairs for coffee and toast.
"Do you need a run in?" she asked brightly.
"I have enough time to take the bus," Martin answered, though not actually refusing.
"I'll drive you, I'm not busy today," she said and then added; "Why don't you take the time to taste your breakfast for a change?"
Martin smiled and sat at the kitchen table. It was true his unhurried pace meant he cut it fine for catching his bus and getting to work on time but he always managed. He appreciated not having to run out into the cold this morning. Martin's subdued mood since the Halloween party had not gone unnoticed but his mum assumed it was because of the letter he had read from his birth mother.
"I knew it would break your heart, that's why it was so hard to give you the letter."
She had said this or something similar several times. He had asked if there was any more letters from her but his mum refused to tell him (which meant yes) and she didn't think he was ready for more. He probably wasn't.
His mum and dad had been very easy about his part-time job. He worked hard at school, never excelling but doing well enough, and he put in the hours he needed to complete his homework, essays, and study for exams – the prelims were on the other side of Christmas but his parents were already more stressed than he was about them. They never asked much about his job – it wasn't disinterest that prompted this but a sense or respect and of giving Martin the space to be his own man.
Martin thanked his mum for the lift and she drove off to meet her friends for coffee and a croissant. Martin ascended through the building like he was climbing the enchanted tree; by the time he reached the fifth floor it was like stepping inside his wardrobe and into another land. Graham had been giving Martin more and more to do lately and Martin was growing more comfortable with some of the more unusual things expected of him, though Martin failed to notice no other member of staff behaved the way he did.
The episode with the tailor and the Halloween costume had been followed with wearing jeans with no top to promote the arrival of new a new style of denim and by wearing very small shorts with a vest to promote winter holiday wear.
Graham had a self-satisfied smile on his face when he saw Martin enter the Pothos Emporium and heading for the staff changing room. He enjoyed letting Martin get dressed in his work trousers and long sleeved maroon shirt before springing things on him so he could watch the lad get undressed again. Today, Graham's idea was truly ambitious; he gave Martin a head start in the changing room in the staff area before entering himself.
Martin was nearly undressed – socked feet, briefs (he always wore briefs, which Graham thought was brilliant) and t-shirt. The t-shirt came off and Martin pulled out his ironed and folded work uniform from his bag.
"Martin, a moment please?" Graham said; "Before you get dressed, why don't you come to my office?"
Martin was as disinhibited now as ever, not quite seeing himself as others do – sex on legs – so he followed Graham out into the staff corridor where he had stood undressed two months ago and down to Graham's office.
The both sat and Graham leaned forward to get a good look at Martin's long legs and sexy body; he was grateful the desk hid his growing erection.
"I think you know how happy I am with your contribution to the team. You're an invaluable member of the staff now and I want you to know how much I appreciate you," Graham buttered him up.
"Thanks boss," Martin replied and blushed all over – like, all over!
"You've been doing a great job modelling for us and I'd like to make more of that," Graham said carefully.
"Yes, how?" Martin asked.
"The shop front. The window that looks out into the atrium," Graham said with great enthusiasm that he hoped would be contagious. "I want you to model in the shop window."
"That sounds ok," Martin agreed.
"I'd like you to model many things today: jackets, shirts, trousers, shorts, t-shirts, underwear."
"Eh... underwear too? How would I do that?" Martin asked.
"Well, I was thinking we could get you wearing layers. You could take off each item as you go and reveal the next thing," Graham said.
He was describing a strip tease; boy Martin had no idea how much he was describing a strip tease.
"Oh, eh... I dunno," Martin replied.
"I know, Martin. I know you have never let me down and you won't today. I'm going to make the best possible choices for you and we can get started after lunch. You'll be great, I know it," Graham did know it.
Graham was looking forward to this almost as much as Martin wasn't.
Connor could be very persuasive and Tom could be very malleable so when the younger boy said "My parents are away of the weekend, come over to my place," Tom had agreed.
Tom had been surprised, though he was not sure why, to learn that Connor stayed at home. He imagined boys from an all-boys school to stay at the school. In fact Tom liked the idea of lots of boys sharing dorms... it was part of why he liked the Halls so much.
Tom and Connor had been making a bit of effort to spend time together so the opportunity to spend a night had been irresistible. Tom had been given Connor's address and when he arrived, Tom had found what he would describe as a mansion. Not quite, but close. There were six bedrooms up stairs, which was quite enough space for the two boys.
Although the opportunity for sex was perfect, Tom had made clear he was not quite ready for that step; he had joked about the three month rule but had eventually told Connor his story. Connor, Tom discovered, had a penchant for English Literature; he shouldn't be surprised by anything now, indeed Tom felt guilty for being so surprised. Connor was clearly a clever young man with a façade of being incorrigible and reprehensible.
"For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings," Connor said by way of soliciting Tom's tale.
Afterwards, they had gone to bed – understanding each other a little better than before. They slept naked and had fooled around but sex had come off the table. Now morning, Connor's phone trilled the arrival of a message that he had been waiting for but it could wait a little longer. They might have chosen not to have sex but twenty year old Tom and seventeen year old Connor were completely naked in bed. Tom had taken care that Connor not see the faint scars on his back from when he was assaulted two years ago – it was a conversation he was not ready for. Tom was more self conscious about his body: slim but unexceptional build, blonde-ginger hair and pale skin; Tom felt inadequate. Connor had a swimmers body, short black hair and sweet dark eyes.
"I love a ginge," Connor protested when Tom had asked if he really wanted to be seen with a ginger man.
They were curled together, each awakening to the sensation tumescence and Tom had been the first to react. Tom worried that Connor had perhaps been anticipating sex and been disappointed it didn't happen – it took time to realise Connor was a little more attentive and a little less sex-driven than Tom had initially thought. In fairness, most boys do want just sex; never the less, it was now – as both lads felt early morning stirs in their groins – that Tom slipped under the covers.
Tom could smell stale cum; they had both ejaculated last night by mutual masturbation and made a mess of themselves and the sheets. Then they fell asleep. They were both sticky this morning and both horney following a night of recharging the testicles. Connor was not fully awake as he felt a hot mouth engulf his semi-hard cock. It grew to full erection in seconds and flied Tom's mouth which continued to take it as Connor bucked his hips just slightly.
Connor's thrusts pushed his cock deeper into Tom's mouth and although it had been a few years since Tom last sucked a guy off, he took it now without difficulty or reticence. Under the sheets was hot, sweaty, musky and stale smelling; really rather good, Tom thought.
After a few minutes, Connor coaxed the sheets down, exposing his body to the wane light that penetrated his bedroom curtains; once Tom's head appeared he flipped the sheet back to completely expose himself and Tom too.
Connor smiled appreciatively at the sight of Tom's head bobbing up and down on his dick. Tom's hands slid up and down Connor's hard body and the younger lad took in the sight of Tom's bare back which curved to a small bum that was appreciatively tight from the resistance he felt as he tried to push a few fingers in the night before.
Tom had laughed at Connor's poking; "You'll enjoy opening that up sometime soon," he'd commented.
"I'm gonna cum," Connor told Tom.
It was not much of a warning as he cock shot hot cum a moment later. That was ok though – Tom kept it in his mouth and sat up. Connor knew what Tom wanted to do before he moved any further so Connor sat forward and bought his face towards Tom's. Tom and Connor kissed, snowballing the cum Connor had just shot until the whole load was swallowed or dribbled onto someone's face.
"What should I do about this?" Tom asked provocatively – indicating his own cock.
They had compared the night before; Connor was six and a half inches long with a bit more girth than Tom, whose penis was less than a quarter of an inch shorter than seven inches.
"Why don't you sort yourself out and see how much you can unload on me?" Connor said.
Connor liked the idea of someone cumming on him; as he experimented with his friends it was one of the few things they had not really done. It was a wet dream of Connor's however; a circle jerk with one person in the middle; it was almost enough to make him hard again already.
Tom stroked his cock to full mast and rubbed a bit of cum from Connor's lips onto the head to lubricate it. It only took a few, undrawn out minutes to reach climax and blow a load on Connor's already bedraggled chest. Cum from last night, his own from this morning... it was gonna take a hell of a shower to get it all off. Not the mention the laundry to get the stains out of the sheets.
"Let's go take a shower," Connor suggested.
Although they showered together, neither came again. Tom took his clothes to a spare room to get dressed and take a call from Johnnie. Connor could hear Calvin's name mentioned to and Tom admonishing them for taking the piss.
"Just `cause you guys don't have a toy boy..." Tom said, winking at Connor before closing the door.
Connor had his own call to take – returning a message left from the manager of the Pothos Emporium. Graham was his name; he was a little strange, Connor thought, but he had persuaded Connor and his entourage to come and see a display at his shop that afternoon. Connor was not sure what he was being invited to see but it was that or homework and Graham had been enigmatic.
"Trust me, you want to see this..." Graham had said to clinch Connor's acquiescence to attend.
A while later and Tom was getting ready to leave.
"I hate to love and leave ya, but I have a place to be," Tom said flippanly.
"No problem, babe. We'll need to do this again sometime," Connor replied.
"Are you going to tell me?" Tom asked at the door.
"No," Connor said with a big smile.
"You don't even know what I was going to ask."
"You want me to tell you what my first name is,"
"Yes,"
"No,"
Connor closed the door as they both laughed.
Butterflies.
Martin felt so nervous as he prepared to get dressed – to don layers of clothing that he knew he would expose in the next hour or so. It was lunch time so Martin, Sandy and Nate had been sent to grab their lunch while Joe, Jerry and Graham manning the shop floor. Martin had met all the other lads before; Jerry was an older man, older than Graham, of perhaps forty. Greying hair and stubble set him apart but he was handsome, fit and gay. Not that the last fact mattered.
Martin had been given a box of clothes to put on, the small items on top (socks and pants) and bigger items on the bottom (a knee length winter jacket). Martin had hoped to get dressed in the staff changing room but Graham had chosen this day to get it painted. The lad in to do the work was average height and had a broad, slightly chunky (equal parts muscle and baby fat) build. He was good looking though; late teens or early twenties with short brown hair and brown eyes, and round face. His name was Danny and his happy voice could be heard singing along to the radio while he worked.
With the changing room out of commission, Martin was compelled by Graham to get changed in the staff break room. Martin had hoped (he'd crossed his fingers and everything) that Sandy and Nate would go out for lunch and he could change in private. No such luck.
It wasn't the getting dressed that bothered him – it was the getting undressed first. He'd be naked while he changed underwear. In truth, the fear was perhaps foolish as he knew Graham planned to have him on display in front of much more than just two work mates, but still.
Martin had briefly wondered why Graham would make him undress in the window.
"Martin, it's not always about you," Graham had said in his usual admonishing tone; "This is about getting people interested, it's about attracting people, it's about... merchandising."
"Oh," Martin replied. "Can't you merchandise someone else?"
Graham drew him a look, "Martin, you are part of my team now. Think about how well you have done so far. No-one was more proud of you than when Oscar measured you up for that suit. You are an attractive young man that people want to look at. Let them look at you. You were... very excited that day; that's ok. In fact it was very popular."
"Oh, eh, I dunno about that," Martin replied.
"I know. So trust me," Graham interrupted, smiled then added; "Do as you're told."
Graham was right about something.
Martin had been excited. He was excited to be seen, perhaps because he always felt so insignificant at school. And at home too in many ways – his parents loved him and were good to him but they had busy careers and he had another mother he would never meet. That made him feel irrelevant, no matter how much his three parents claimed to care about him.
Graham was right: Martin had been excited and aroused and delighted to be seen.
Which was probably why he agreed to such an insane suggestion; being naive and easily led had something to do with it too, one might say.
Which was why Martin found himself unceremoniously taking off all his clothes while his colleagues watched him over the tops of their Pot Noodles. Martin unbuttoned his shirt and whipped it off then sat down to take off his shoes and socks; then he lifted his bum to take his bum out of his trousers. He was standing in just his briefs when Nate interrupted.
"I hope you're a bit more ceremonial out there," Nate commented.
Martin looked up at his bemused colleagues; he liked being seen like this, just a bit. Himself almost naked, his observers fully clothed.
"Oh, I'll try," Martin replied.
Martin took a few steps with his long bare legs and looked into the box for his first item of clothing: an even smaller pair of black briefs the sides of the briefs were slimmer to expose more of his hips, it was hardly two centimetres wide. The arse would be a very snug fit and his penis, which was long even when soft would fit in the pouch at the front, but not without exposing his pubes.
Martin tried not to look at his observers as he pulled down his briefs and put his cock on show but watching they most certainly were. The liked the look of his long flaccid penis and imagined, as most men would, the things that seventeen year old Martin McGuigan could do with it.
"You know Martin, that would have been a hotter reveal if you'd been facing away to begin with," said Nate.
"Yea, then turn to face us once we'd had a look at your lovely bum," added Sandy.
Martin smiled back at him – Sandy grinning at him from behind a ginger beard that matched his hair.
"Try it," suggested Nate.
Martin had already stepped out of the briefs but decided to go for it without the final curtain. He stepped out of his underwear and then turned away from the two lads. He looked over his shoulder as they looked at his tight arse. The both thought the same thing, pondered whether the cherry had been popped.
As Martin turned around, his narrow profile came into view, his penis the best feature of the side-on perspective and it was as he came to face them again that the door to the staff room opened and Danny walked in.
Martin rushed to cover his penis with his hands but Danny had already seen it all. Martin mentally chastised himself for checking Danny out: his sweet eyes, his big arms – one bicep marked with a tattoo – and his painters outfit. His overalls consisted of white (apart from the paint stains) dungarees and a t-shirt. The top of the dungarees had been unfastened and dangled around his waist – showing off his broad chest inside the grey t-shirt.
"Cool," said Danny; "I didn't realise there was a free show."
Martin blushed and pulled on his new briefs.
"I, I, I was just getting changed," Martin protested.
"Sure."
Martin dressed under the watchful eyes of the three lads, who continued to allow their gaze to follow the trail from his now (more or less) covered penis to his belly button, up the rippled muscles of his abdomen to his pecs besotted with glorious nipples.
Martin pulled on running shorts and a vest, then a t-shirt followed boot cut black jeans; socks that came up to his mid-thigh and converse trainers followed; finally a red and black buffalo plaid shirt then a black wool jacket that reached his knees. It was a gorgeous jacket that Martin thought was absolutely stunning and perfect for a winter's day – winter was coming.
All available in store, ask inside for details.
Martin recovered from his embarrassment and prepared himself for more coming soon. He was too nervous to eat, the butterflies were too filling, but he sat and talked amiably to Sandy, Nate and Danny. Ah, Danny really was a lovely and charming lad. It was as Martin thought this that he thought about E.J. and the relationship he had hoped to cultivate with him. A relationship that might be all but destroyed when he ran away two weeks ago and certainly now that he had come clean.
Martin wanted to check his phone but it was in the pocket of his own jacket and he did not want to draw attention to it when he knew he was about to leave the room. He doubted anyone would look to see what he was so interested in – surely no-one would be nosey enough to read his phone – but he did not want to take the chance.
"Martin, shall we get this show on the road?" asked Graham who appeared at the doorway.
Martin nodded.
It was after half past one in the afternoon and the shop was busy. The atrium outside the shop would be busy too. Behind the cash counter, the partition was folded back further than usual. Typically it was a tight squeeze at the far end of the cash desk, but Martin could see several meters had been slid back so he could see the passing trade even from where he now stood at the end of the cash desk farthest from the entrance to the Pothos Emporium.
Behind the partition was a display area where two or three mannequins usually stood sentinel – this afternoon all were absent. The display area looked out onto the atrium – the fifth floor landing that hosted the Pothos Emporium, a cafe, a photo studio and a laundrette. Martin glimpsed the cafe, it was busy as usual, but it was hard to count exactly how many because of the throngs of people passing the window that was several metres wide.
Wide enough to make Martin the centre of attention for all the men who dominated the fifth floor.
Wide enough to provide a clear and unobscured view of Martin.
"I'd like you to just stand naturally and look out of the window at the potential customers outside," Graham said quietly to Martin. "I want you to entice them in. Make the Pothos Emporium a place to visit; ask yourself, if you were watching what would an attractive man in the window have to do to entice me in?" Graham suggested.
"Ok," Martin replied, smiling more bravely than he felt.
Martin stepped up onto the stage of the display area, aware of the customers behind him becoming aware that something was happening.
Martin was a natural poser – neither arrogant nor preoccupied with his own pulchritude, but simply naturally inclined to modelling. People passing outside appreciated the live art of the endeavour but few stopped; some came in, some passed by.
"Take off the jacket Martin," instructed Graham, who stood at the sidelines, partially hidden by the partition that now obscured most of Martin's view of the shop behind him.
Martin unbuttoned the wool jacket and slipped it off his shoulders and then tossed it to Graham's outstretched hand. This caught some attention and several people stopped to watch the boy who now stood in a form-fitting shirt; the top three buttons were undone to reveal the t-shirt underneath. Martin again spent several minutes, posing and strutting a short distance while people wondered what it was all about.
"The shirt, Martin," Graham asked.
Martin slowly unbuttoned the shirt and people started getting excited at the prospect of what else might come off. Martin tossed the shirt to Graham.
"The t-shirt, please."
"The trainers, Martin,"
Little by little Martin was stripped while people watched. Naive or not, Martin was learning how to play the crowed; locking arms, first one and then the other behind his head to show off his armpits and to tense his biceps.
The crowd was at least two dozen thick now and growing as people left the Pothos Emporium (inevitably to return if this display was to recur) or the cafe to see what was going on, what everyone was looking at. With so many people, Martin would be forgiven for not noticing four boys at the back of the crowd. Four boys who Martin would never have dreamed of continuing to do what he was doing if he knew they were there; watching, gawking, drooling.
Connor, Kazuo and the twins Sean and Matthew from Martin's school were watching him strip.
"I don't fuckin' believe it," Matt said.
"There was rumours of a hot guy working here who got naked," said Connor, wracking his brains.
"Yea, Victor told us the day of the Halloween party. What did he say the guys name was?" Kazuo asked; they were all trying to remember if Victor had used the name Martin.
"We were invited remember?" Connor said logically, "Graham, the shop owner invited us to see this."
"He must know Martin's seventeen then, that he goes to school with us?" Sean suggested.
They all grinned wickedly at the imagination of the scheme which was attracting more and more people to watch. Who wouldn't enjoy watching a stripping teenager who was, Connor bewildered that he had never taken more notice, very extremely hot!
Martin unbuttoned his trousers and let them drop to his ankles, then bent down and tossed them aside. Connor could just see them collected and spirited away; it made it all the more alluring to know Martin was not just stripping but that the clothes were vanishing. He couldn't just get dressed again or cover up – the clothes were being taken away.
Martin was now dressed in a ribbed black vest, small black briefs and black socks that were pulled up to his calves, showing off their shape and musculature. The sock's went next and Connor and the others – all the others, three dozen plus now – adored Martin's long slim legs; slightly hairy and the colour of fudge and almost as tempting to eat.
When Martin pulled the vest over his head, he did so by grasping the hem of the vest with both hands and with his forearms crossed over each other; so as it came up, his armpits were exposed and Martin's view of the audience temporarily obscured.
Connor and the others had no idea that Martin, the quiet guy from school, was so ripped. His whole body stretched as Martin lifted his arms so his belly became longer and flatter and his crotch thrust out just a little and his pubes were obviously struggling to stay inside the briefs. The vest was tossed aside and disappeared into a place of no return.
The only item left was Martin's briefs and the package inside was big. It wasn't fully hard yet it was as big as the twin's cocks when hard. The size and shape of Martin's balls filled out the bottom of the underwear.
Connor and the others were increasingly near the front, increasingly near being seen by their classmate and Connor worried it would grind things to a halt, but could not stop himself pushing closer to the front row. Scaring Martin if he saw Connor, Sean, Matt and Kazuo was exactly what he thought had happened when Martin all of a sudden turned his back.
Martin's bare back was beautiful too, exactly the kind of thing you wouldn't mind looking at while you fucked him. Martin found himself looking back into the shop, the most prominent of the faces watching him as a nice lad paying for something at the cash desk. Martin smiled at him, at himself, at the people watching him from outside and wondering if the show was over.
But Martin was not going anywhere; he dropped the back of the briefs and exposed his bum. It was lovely and peachy thrust out towards the audience as he pushed the briefs down to his ankles. The boy at the cash desk gazed at the cock that had been exposed.
Martin stepped very slowly out of his briefs, aware of what everyone wanted to see. He held the briefs in his hand and tossed them to Graham. Every last stitch of Martin's clothes was now gone and irretrievable. Martin turned, unknowingly, to face his classmates.
Connor, his friends and everyone else felt a pang of lust and envy and jealousy and inadequacy at the sight of the Adonis on display before them.
Martin's butterflies had flown. He was no longer nervous he was more excited than he had ever felt before and it was beyond him why he was not rock hard. In the front row, Martin saw an attractive man in his twenties with short black hair and piercing blue eyes; it was Roger, the man who had taken Martin's wilderness man pants off him the day of the Halloween party. Roger balled his fist and shook it in the miming vernacular of `wank' – everyone wondered what Martin would do next.
Connor hoped and prayed it would come true. To see Martin beat off would be amazing. He took out his phone and could see several others had too; he turned on the camera and started to record. Just in time too...
"Close your eyes, Martin," Graham said.
It seemed like good advice. He was horney and excited but nervous too. Blinking everyone out helped. Martin's hand to hold of his penis and pulled in a few strokes that encouraged it to full erection.
Connor and his three friends managed to get into the front row without causing a riot, without getting pushed back and without disgruntled men distorting Martin's attention. They weren't to know that Graham had Jerry pass the message for the peace to be kept and a space to be reserved for the four boys when the finale came.
"Shit, are you getting this?" Sean asked Connor unnecessarily.
"You bet I am," Connor replied as he recorded the whole scene.
Martin's eyes remained closed as he stroked his long cock which was now more than eight inches of solid muscle. The head of his cock quivered as Martin licked his hand to lubricate it. His left hand massaged his balls and then slid along the pubic region, travelled up his smooth body and nestled around his pectorials. His thumb and index finger framed his nipple before closing together in a very gentle squeeze. It was mostly theatrical – nipple play not being something that did anything for Martin.
On display in the window, Martin seemed to occupy the whole space – the centrepiece of a beautiful exhibition that went beyond even Graham's wildest dreams. Graham had underestimated Martin when Oliver had measured him and he'd done it again today.
Martin's fist began to pump faster, his palm sweeping across the head of his cock after every few strokes; the attention to it taking him closer to orgasm. Martin stopped pumping to sweep his thumb across the sensitive frenulum which was slick with sweat and pre-cum and quivered at the result.
Three more stokes would do it.
His eyes were still closed and Martin took a step forward, almost subconsciously, towards the glass; towards his school peers.
Two more strokes.
Martin was framed in all his glory by the video Connor and others were making. They would be kept discretely – they all knew this was the kind of thing that would be spoiled by over exposure. Martin's legs and cock and chest and face were all obviously and unambiguously immortalised by Connor's phone and burned into his memory too.
One.
Martin opened his eyes as his cock erupted and instantly saw four familiar faces.
Although Connor, Matthew, Sean and Kazuo were all dressed in regular clothes for a Saturday afternoon; Martin's brain put them in context. The four seventeen year olds were in full school uniform including ties and blazers.
The veil lifted but Martin's cock was still exploding cum in front of four boys from his own school and forty other men. Cum shot up and landed on his chin, dripping onto the suprasternal notch and then his torso, dribbling down to his belly as his pumping continued on automatic pilot; shots of cum hit the window too and the remaining waning spurts covered his hand.
Martin was exhausted and unable to take his eyes off the boys who levelled their gaze equally in return. Still recording, Connor lifted his other hand and mimed licking it. Martin looked down at his own cum covered hand and then back at Connor who repeated the gesture, smiling even more widely this time.
Martin did it. He lifted his hand and licked his palm clean in three laps, finishing with a long lick of his thumb.
Connor pointed at the window at about cock-height and stuck out his tongue, making a lurid licking gesture again. Martin looked at the window where Connor had pointed and saw his cum had landed there. He bent over and brought his tongue to the glass then licked it off there too. When he was sure it was all gone he stepped back two paces and smeared the cum that had landed on his body wider across his chest and abdomen, making a real mess.
Martin was spent and the audience were sated. Connor waited a moment longer so he could record Martin's departure; adding to the footage a view of Martin's glorious arse and sweat matted thighs. Connor just imagined what he could do with the recording. He was looking forward to the moment he got to talk to Martin about it.
Martin's legs felt like jelly as he stepped down from the display area back into the main shop. There was still a lot of people in the shop and those that had missed the show were now being regaled with the tale and looking over to where Martin emerged to see the evidence for themselves.
Martin was a sweaty, cum-covered mess – still smokin' hot though.
"That was absolutely amazing, Martin," Graham congratulated him.
Graham's hands landed supportively on Martin's shoulders but the boy's head was hung in virtual shame. Graham turned to slip his arm around Martin's back and guided him though the shop. Martin made no effort to cover up and Graham "didn't even think to offer something" for Martin to wear.
Danny boy was almost finished painting and took the sight of the defeated Martin in silence. Danny was awed by Martin's long, receding cock at the obvious vestiges of cum that dripped from it. Then Danny took the opportunity to check out Martin's perfect arse. His view ended as Graham led Martin into his office and closed the door.
"You were spectacular, Martin. So why do you look so glum?" Graham asked.
It was perhaps a stupid question, most people would be subdued if they found themselves bare naked and wanking in front of a big group of clothed people.
"You enjoyed yourself, Martin. I can see you did. You must know how stunning you are," Graham threw in the compliment to bolster Martin's confidence and to embolden his ego.
Martin smiled at the compliment and finally looked up, "Thanks." Martin wanted to say more and said it slowly, hearing how whiney it must sound; "I saw people I know watching me."
Graham feigned surprise; "Really? Who?"
"Boys from my school. What if they tell people?" Martin asked with great concern in his voice.
"They won't," Graham assured him confidently; "Trust me, Martin. I'm sure they won't."
Graham was sure because he understood how a mind like Connor's worked; to tell people would be to give away his advantage. If Connor says nothing on the other hand, then he has Martin over a barrel. Or over anything else Connor might care to put him.
"Get dressed, Martin. You can go home now if you don't feel up to staying. I think you have earned your wages for today," Graham added.
That made Martin smile and Graham was heartened by it. He was still concerned Martin could be precious and scared away.
"Thanks, boss."
When Martin returned to the staff room, it was empty. His clothes were where they should be and the cum on his chest and belly was dry and flaky. He pulled on his clothes as quickly as he could and felt better for it. He sat with his head in his hands at the thought of seeing Connor and the others at school on Monday. His thoughts and fears about that particular confrontation were soon erased when he checked his phone: he had a message from E.J.
Martin opened the text and read it.
[Martin, glad U txt. I think I understand now. I hope U'll understand too. I also lied about my age if you still want to talk after I tell you then call. I'm 31.]
"Fuck."
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