Cushing Tailors

Lord Burleigh was bored. He was lunching at his club with two aged gentleman and the conversation was quite tedious. Across the way, he noticed two dashing young chaps at another table. “Oh! To have a go at them!” thought Thomas. After that lusty weekend, the thought of shagging those of his class had become a preoccupation. However, Arthur was on holiday in Italy. At the end of the meal while sipping port, a wild idea came to Thomas. He said farewell to the elderly bores.

“Ah! This will do nicely. Kindly, wrap it up” said Thomas to the clerk at Swithin’s Curiosity Shop.

“Lord Burleigh, your proposal is rather unusual, but we pride ourselves on offering unusual experiences…” said Mr. Cushing.

At just the age of 30, the handsome dark-haired Martin Stanhope was on the rise as a leading barrister. Though just of medium height, his presence filled a courtroom. With his winning manner, dramatic deep voice and animated facial expressions he commanded attention while arguing cases. Despite professional success and a solid homelife via marriage to a high born woman, and with two lovely children, he had perverse cravings that caused him inner torment. A trusted colleague discreetly informed him of the services that Cushing Tailors provided.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stanhope. If you would follow me” said Mr. Cushing, pocketing the envelope he was handed. He led Martin down the hallway, opened a door and Martin went into a room and Mr. Cushing closed the door.

There stood Thomas in all his glory. Except for black boots and the black and gold Venetian mask he had purchased at Swithin’s covering his face, he was nude. The combination of the mask’s long beak and his stupendous hard prick endowed him with the obscene visage of a demented giant rooster ready to defile a hen.

“Get on your fucking knees you sick bastard and pleasure me!” he roared at Martin. As if punched in the gut, Martin winced, being taken aback by the brute’s forcefulness. He rapidly complied and was on the floor, mouth wide open and took in Thomas’ prick. He had rarely given in to his urges and was somewhat tentative in his technique.

“Faster, you worthless ponce!” yelled Thomas. “This is the finest prick in London, you git! Treat it like it deserves to be treated.” He grabbed Martin’s head and began fucking his face. “That’s it! All the way! Much better! Do my balls, you sod.” Martin did as he was commanded and was suckling Thomas’ warm fleshy sack. “The justices at the Old Bailey would get enjoyment at this sight!” wickedly laughed Thomas. “Damn!” thought Martin, ‘This hooligan knows who I am!’” Instead of anger, this knowledge incited even more longings in him.

“Well! You done good after all!” Thomas said, indicating his roaring prick, gleaming with Martin’s spittle. “Will there be anything else?”

“Uh, yes” said Martin.

“What might that be?”

“I think you know.”

“You’re used to showing off in court. Say it!”

“Fuck me” stammered Martin.

“That’s not good enough.”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Address me as I am entitled to be.”

“Please, fuck me sir.”

“Well! Now that you know your place, get your clothes off you pathetic swine and bend over.”

Martin hurriedly removed his garments and now naked, got in position on the sofa. “What a fine arse!” said Thomas before he spat in it. After lubricating his prick, he slowly penetrated Martin, who was yelping. “There we are!” said Thomas as he began pounding Martin’s hole. In short time, Martin gasped as his prick fired off a blast of spunk. Thomas withdrew. “We’re done.” Martin gathered up his clothes, reached into his pocket and handed Thomas a pound note and left.

Laurence Dowdy, was a slight blonde young man of 18. Down from Cambridge, he was staying with his parents. He’d been referred to Cushing’s by a close schoolmate after Laurence confessed the secret feelings he had.

“Good afternoon, Master Laurence” said Mr. Cushing. “Ah, yes good afternoon” shyly said the blushing Laurence as he handed Mr. Cushing an envelope. “Right this way” said Mr. Cushing as he led Laurence through the hallway, opened the door and closing it after Laurence entered.

“Is this your first time with a man, boy?” said Thomas sitting, his legs spread in a red velvet chair, wearing his mask and little else.

“Yes, sir” nervously nodded Laurence, noticing Thomas’ gigantic hardon.

“Don’t worry, my lad. I’ll take good care of you and make you the Nancy boy you were meant to be. Get over here and sit before me.” Laurence did as he was told and was between Thomas’ loins. “Cup my balls and wank my prick with your other hand.” Laurence felt like he holding a weight and as he wanked Thomas, the feeling of the warm pulsing flesh was overwhelming, and his own modest prick became solid.  

“Now, put it in your mouth.” Laurence opened wide and did, and was overcome with excitement, tasting the searing flesh and it’s salty secretions. “Oh, don’t you look lovely! Jolly good! Get cracking with your lips and tongue.” With tears streaming down his face, Laurence was soon getting acclimated to performing this intimate act and becoming more proficient at it as evidenced by Thomas’ sighs and the increasing amount of juice expended by his prick and which Laurence developed a taste for, lapping it up.

“That will be enough. Take of your clothes.” Laurence undressed and Thomas noticed his decent erection. “Turn around. Oh, what a fine bum you have! Would you like me to fuck you, boy?” “Oh yes, please sir” moaned Laurence. “I am honored to be the first of no doubt many to have that pleasure. Get on the sofa and raise that beautiful arse!”

Laurence was now laid out, on his hands and knees with his bottom in proper position. Thomas handed him a riding crop. “Bite down on that, it will help.” Thomas spat on Laurence’s arse, readied his prick and slowly entered Laurence. The boy was writhing in agony as his insides struggled to accommodate Thomas’ girth and length. After admittance was achieved, Thomas began the procedure with gusto. Soon, like all of his sort, Laurence was awakened to and savoring the profound physical and emotional delights of being taken by a man. The pain throughout his lower body was replaced by great joy. The momentum of Thomas’ prick elicited unknown sensations within Laurence, that was capped by his jubilant grunts and then his shattering climax caused from such a grand fucking.

“That went off rather well, don’t you think?” chuckled Thomas.

“Smashing!” sighed Laurence collecting his clothes and handing Thomas a pound note. “Make a left, Stephen will see that you’re tidied up.” “Good day and thank you, sir.”

“Bloody Hell!” thought the masked Thomas when his next client walked in. The very attractive and charming 22-year-old Simon Motley was his younger brother! The two had never been close. As the eldest son, Thomas was charged with great responsibilities, especially since the death of their father. Simon had been spoiled by their mother and left to his own devices, which obviously included sojourns to male bordellos. “Why not?” thought Thomas.

“Oh, I was expecting Aiden” said Simon.

“He’s indisposed and I’ve been attending to his customers. I can guarantee satisfaction.”

“Oh, I can see I shall be satisfied!” said Simon gazing at Thomas’ prick. He raced over, descended and was royally slurping on it to Thomas’ amazement and delight. Simon’s tongue and hands were all Thomas’ genetalia with expertise that caused tremendous arousal. Sensing this, Simon confidentially rose, undressed and lay on the couch, presenting his pink hole that was framed by two perfectly shaped round cheeks. 

After requisite spitting, Thomas shoved his prick into Simon. Clearly, Simon was practiced at being buggered as there was no resistance or pain, just wanton desire. The atmosphere was electric as the two brothers fucked. Simon vocally and physically exploded as his brother’s thrusts brought him to climax. Thomas pulled out, wiped his prick with a cloth, and placed it before the still reclining Simon’s face. “Finish me.” Simon had Thomas’ prick back in his mouth and after more oral stimulation, was swallowing his overjoyed brother’s spunk.

“Excellent” said Simon, collecting his clothes and handing Thomas a one pound note. “I hope to see you again” Simon said as he left.

After a good hot bath, Thomas dressed. Mr. Cushing handed him his cut. This along with the three pounds, were apart from gambling winnings the first money he had ever earned on his own which caused him to smile. He got home, dressed for the evening and met his wife for dinner at Simpson’s, and then it was on to the theatre.