"G'mornin'. Gear for Guys. May I take your order?" The voice on the phone was low, warm, and masculine.

"Yes. I'd like to order some more of your undershorts," I told him, feeling timid. To me, it has always seemed odd to order clothes by phone, especially something so intimate as underwear, but at least with this company one always dealt with males.

"Good. Then you're a customer. Let me have the ID number after your name on the catalog you're looking at and your credit card number, please. Okay?"

I gave him both.

"Yes, here we are. Mr. Jack Soff... er... Soffa... er..."

"Call me Jack," I prompted, "it's easier."

"Yeah, Thanks. You've got an interesting handle."

"'Handle' is an interesting way to put it. It does generate lots of comments."

"I can imagine. It makes me stop and think."

"About what?"

"Jackin' off."

"Ah, my favorite pastime."

"Mine, too."

"We should get together and compare... uh... notes."

"Whew! Now, let me see. We'd better get back to business or you'll get me fired. You never know when my supervisor is listening in. What was it that you needed?"

"Underwear."

"Oh, yes. Undershorts, you said before. Do you have the catalog number of the type you want?"

"You make it sound like 'undershorts' isn't what most guys call 'em."

"You're right, but I wasn't being critical. I like the way you say undershorts. Most guys call 'em briefs, jockeys, or boxers. But tell me, what's the catalog number?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure. You see, the last time, I bought six pair each of two types. Both were European cut, fly-less. Thinking they were much the same, I wore them and mixed them up and now I don't know which is which, because all the labels are the same. Now I want only the better ones."

"Oh? How did they differ?"

"The one I want is more comfortable in the..." I hesitated being blunt, trying to be polite, "...in the crotch."

"In what way," he said with what sounded like a catch in his voice.

Well, it lifts my ba... uh... It lifts better and, well, the whole pouch is much bigger. The other one's sort of flat in the front and feels uncomfortable. No lift. No room. Know what I mean?"

"Oh! Yes, I do. You need the room," he almost whispered.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"What size do you wear?" His voice was very soft.

"My waist is thirty-two inches, but I wear a size thirty-four."

"Why is that?"

"Well, two reasons. One, I'm athletic. I lift weights. My... uh..." I stopped, still hesitant to be blunt. "...My, well, buttocks is so well developed I need a larger size for that reason, and, two, my..." I paused.

"Yes?" he said as if hanging on every word.

"...I mean, I... uh..." I stammered, looking for the best way to put it, "...my... er... the pouch has to be roomy."

"Roomy," he repeated, sounding excited. He paused. Then he added, "Because your... I mean, you are, umm, so large. Is that it?"

"Right. Exactly!" I was relieved. He seemed to understand.

"Excellent!" he enthused. "I've just brought your last order up on the computer screen. I see that you ordered both our brief-cut, which is about two inches at the side, and our jockey-cut, which is about three inches at the side and has a much larger, comfort-fit pouch, which gives more room and better lift. They look very similar, but they feel a lot different when you wear them. The jockey-cut has the best lift and the most comfort. That is, roominess, without being loose. Does that sound about right?"

"Yes, it does.

"It's number 6H on page 15 of the catalog. Do you see it?"

I flipped to page 15. "Oh, yes. It does have a large pouch, doesn't it?" The live model was pictured, head to toe, wearing only the briefs. As with all of their underwear models, in fact all of their male models, the guy was a knockout. Natural and sexy. No body hair was shaved, nor did this catalog, unlike its competitors, ever airbrush photos to remove body hair or hide interesting bulges. This model had both.

"Oh, yes. Very big!" he whispered.

"Are you looking at the same picture I'm looking at?"

"Oh, yes, item 6H."

"Well, that seems close to what I'm looking for," I said.

"The undershorts." He said it like he wanted to be sure I was talking about the undershorts and not the model.

"Yeah, but..." I hesitated."...the pouch looks too..." I stopped.

"Too big?" his asked, sounding disappointed.

"No. Too small."

"Oh!" he sang out, stretching out the word, his interest rekindled. There was another long pause. "Did you want to order them?" He held his breath.

I was uncertain where this was going, if I was really catching a sexy undercurrent here, or not, so I said, "Yes, I'll take six for now, and if they're the right ones, I'll order more later."

"Six!" he repeated sounding surprised. "From our records, you seem to have ordered large quantities. Don't they hold up?"

"Well, I've got this other problem," I said quietly.

"Which is...?"

"Too often during the day I stretch the pouch beyond its capacity, if you understand what I'm saying."

"You mean you have to stretch it out with your hand to take a... I mean, well, for urination."

"No, that's not what I mean. Not my hand."

"Oh?" He paused, thinking about it. "Oh! You mean your..." He stopped. "Oh. I see," he sighed in a way that made him sound very interested.

"Yeah. It's a problem for me. Too much lead in my pencil, I guess." I chuckled.

"Oh! I know the feeling, sitting here all day long, talking to guys who are telling me their likes and dislikes in underwear. And which models they'd like to meet, and why, and what they'd do if they did..." He caught himself. "Sorry," he apologized, immediately, "I don't mean you at all. I enjoy talking with you. It's very interesting and you're very easy to talk with. Your problems are fascinating and I understand completely.

"Thanks, and I hear what you're saying. You get horny sitting there all day long talking to guys about their undershorts. Right?"

"Damn right."

"I think I would, too."

"Thanks."

"Well, so send me those, and I'll see if they're the ones I need."

"Have you tried number 9B?" he asked.

"No. I don't think so."

"Page 17."

I turned the page. 9B was a small jockstrap/brief on a big model. Presented almost in profile, the pouch looked enormous, and all out of scale with the otherwise well-proportioned model.

"Umm, I see!"

"Yes. Nice, isn't it?" It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, nice." I could rather clearly see skin tones through the cloth, and the guy's dick and balls were almost as visible as if he wore nothing. Somehow, the garment made him look even sexier than had he been photographed in the nude. I had noticed and admired this photo before when I was looking through the catalog, but I wasn't interested in purchasing jockstraps, having plenty of my own and favoring a particular brand of jock.

"This might be helpful," he explained. "It gives excellent lift, as you can clearly see, but it also holds everything in place better than any other garment we have. It's not a straightjacket, so movement within is not uncomfortable, but constant stretching, like the type you're concerned about, does no harm to the fabric, so it never loses its shape. In fact, some men have reported that this fabric produces an interesting resistance when being stretched in the way you imply, which, apparently, exercises the... er... the expanding endowment, shall we say, and actually generates enlargement. But our researchers have never been able to verify these reports, even as hard as they try to." He, too, was selecting his words carefully.

"I see. But don't these kinds of jocks get real hot - I mean really overheated - causing your, well, your balls to ache."

"When these new fabrics first appeared, yes, that was a problem. But nowadays the new weaves allow amazing air circulation, and even when you're 'hot' - if you know what I'm saying - your balls, as you yourself put it so well, don't get overheated."

"Great. You've convinced me. Let me have three of 'em. I'll try 'em out. See if they keep me in place. Just so long as they don't strangle me."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, now, would we." He chuckled.

"All depends on what's doing the strangulating."

"Yeah," he agreed immediately, quietly. "Lots of things can cause strangulating."

"Throats, for example," I whispered.

"Oh! Jack! Be careful. My supervisor!"

"Fuck your supervisor!" I said casually.

"Listen, I'd like to talk, but I am really constrained. Why don't I call you this evening, to confirm delivery of these items. Would you like that?" He held his breath waiting for my answer.

"Great! Call after 9:30 and I'll be waiting to hear from you."

"Okay." he agreed huskily.

"And, what's your name?" I asked.

"It's Peter."

"That's a nice name."

"Thought you'd like it."

"I'll be waiting. Don't let me down."

"So long."

* * * *

The phone rang at precisely nine-thirty. I answered after the second ring, simply saying, "Hi!"

"Oh! Hi! It's Peter," he said so shyly, I half-expected him to ask, "Do you remember me?"

"I know. I'm real glad you called, Peter."

"Oh, thanks. I almost didn't. I never call customers like this. I've never called one before."

"Must have taken real courage, then. I'm impressed. That pleases me. I like talking to you. You've got a sexy voice." There! I wasn't going to beat around the bush. There was something else I wanted to beat, and Peter's voice was pressing the right buttons to get me started. He was sexy. I wasn't kidding.

"Me?!" he said, surprised. "You're the one with the sexy voice! After you hung up this morning, I heard it in my head all day long. It's the reason I'm calling. I've been thinking about you all day long." He sounded out of breath from his admission.

"Stretching your undershorts in the process, I hope."

"I think I did what you do," he admitted.

"What's that?"

"I wore out a pair!" he told me, sounding rather proud of himself.

I laughed and he joined in the laughter. I believe it put both of us at ease after the nervous tension of the first few moments.

" When I got home this evening, I slipped into one of those jockstraps you bought," he told me.

"Is that all you're wearing?" I asked breathlessly.

"Well, some cologne, too." He chuckled in a sexy way.

"Umm, that sounds nice. Here," I said stretching to reach for my copy of the catalog, "I'm just opening my catalog to 9B. Jeez, he is a turn-on."

"Thank you!" he said sincerely.

"What?! You're the model for 9B?" I couldn't believe it, but even if it wasn't true, it was a sexy statement. All of a sudden I had a photograph, apparently, of the man I was talking to. I found it wildly exciting.

"Yeah. I told you about my supervisor, right?"

"Sort of."

"Well, he only hires guys who are suitable for posing in his catalog. Sometimes, it feels like I'm working for one of those all male dance companies like Chippendales, there's so much bare flesh around the office."

"Damn! No wonder you stretch your undershorts at work."

"Yeah!"

"Geez, Peter. Number 9B! What a turn on you are, man!"

"You should see me now," he whispered huskily.

"Oh?"

"Your voice turns me on. This jock is starting to bulge, man. Really bulge!"

"Wow! Looking' at this picture of you, with such a large bulge already showing', I can easily imagine how it's starting' to look now. Mine's getting a big bulge, too."

"Whacha wearin'?"

"A pair of white 6H's," I told him.

"That's all?"

"A smile."

"Ooh, what a hot reply. I'll bet the pouch is stretched out of shape. From what you told me this morning, you must almost rip 'em apart with your..."

"This ol' pair is beyond repair," I said huskily. "Torn, stretched, and getting wet spots."

"Oooh, I'd like to smell 'em!" he sighed in a very turned on way.

"Yeah. They're all sticky inside already, just from thinking about you. Here. I'll take 'em off for you."

"Oh! Geez!"

"Yeah. And I'd like to take yours off, too..."

"Ummm."

"...with my teeth!"

"Ooh!"

"Com'on, let's get naked! Expose that big cock to me."

"Naked!" he repeated enthusiastically, "Yes! I'm stripping this tight jock/brief off, sliding it down my legs. Freeing my cock. I'm naked, now, too. My cock's freed and it's getting stiff and hot!"

Yeah, great! I'm already hard as a rock! Ooh, I'm wrapping my fist around this big cock and I'm starting to pump this big fucker for you."

"Oh, yeah! Talk dirty to me! I love it! Tell me about your big cock."

"I'm pumping this fucker, man, just for you. Starting to beat my meat. It seems bigger than usual, reacting to your sexy voice. Com'on, beat your meat with me. Lemme hear that skin slapping sound. Com'on. Beat your meat! Work that cock, man."

"Oooh!" he sighed. "Listen, I'm pounding it! Slapping the skin real good! Hear it? D'ya hear me pounding it? D'ya hear?"

"Oooh! Yeah, man. I hear ya! I hear ya! What a sexy sound! Pump that fucker! Gimme some cock-juice! Wish I was there to suck it! Com'on, beat that meat like I'm beating mine! I'm beating it good. Long, hard strokes, man. I'm beatin' it fast! Oooh, it feels so good doin' it with you. Listening to your heavy breathing, hearing you slap that skin! Com'on, beat that meat! Pump that fucker!"

"Man, I'm pumpin' it. Beatin' it! I'm jackin' with Jack! Whew! This is good. Hearing you say you want to suck it almost made me cum on the spot. I'm leakin', man! Drippin' syrup onto my belly as I lay here jackin' my dick with you. Beating it for you, man. All for you!"

"Yeah," I sighed huskily, "give it to me! My big balls are already up tight against the base of the cock. I'm drippin', too. My belly's all gooey with juice. I'm dippin' my fingers in it and rubbing it on the big, fat, swollen red head of my cock. Keep pumpin', man. Shower me with your hot juice. Shoot a big load with me. I'm pumpin' this fucker, and, fuck, I'm gettin' so hot, jabbing my hips, humping into my hand, I'm gonna shoot my load. Do it with me, man. Okay?"

"Oh, yeah," he sighed heavily, "I'm right with you, man. Pumping. Jarring my balls with my fist. Gettin' tense. Really hot. Grabbin' my balls. Gettin' ready to shoot, man!"

"Empty those balls! Shoot off in my face! Cover me with cum! Uh! Uh! Oh! Man! I... I'm cumming!"

"Oh! I'm cumming, too! Uh! Uh! Your voice is so sexy. I can't hold back. Uh! I'm shooting my load! I'm... Ahh!" His voice trailed off as his orgasm overtook him, joining me in climax.

I spurted cum all over myself. It was one of the best orgasms I'd had in a long time. Damn, he was sexy. Jism covered me from chin to navel. I couldn't talk. I just gasped. And I heard him gasping on the other end of the line as he came with me. It was terrific!

We moaned and groaned together, winding down from the strong mutual orgasm together. Catching our breaths.

"Geez, that was good!" he sighed.

"Man, that was good!" I agreed. "I'm wiping up the cum on my chest and slurping it into my mouth. I love hot cum..." I paused.

"Yeah, me, too," he sighed earnestly.

"...Especially when it's fresh from the spout being pumped right into my mouth out of a fat cockhead. In fact, I want your cock in my mouth! I want to suck the cum out of you!"

"Oh, man! You are so sexy I'm getting all hot again. My balls are still tight against my cock, acting like I hadn't shot a load. I feel like a teenager, ready to pump out another load!" He was really turned on.

So was I! "I'm using some of my load to lube up my revitalized hardon. I'm hot as hell. I want to work out another load with you. Wow! Two great loads, one after another! You really get me hot, man!"

For a while we listened to the jack off sounds of our mutual excitement. Heavy breathing, grunts and groans, bodies moving on the beds, and gasps of breathing as we could hear each other being lifted, again, towards climax.

"This is so good," I sighed. "I'm looking at your photo as I jack this big cock, and I'm clearly imagining you fucking your fist! Couple more slides up and down my big dick and I'm gonna shoot all over myself again." I was very breathless as orgasm approached.

"You are almost there, I hear it in your voice," he sighed excitedly. "I'm right with you, man!"

My pleasure was exceptionally raised by the excitement I heard in his sexy voice. I felt my entire body contort into the euphoria of orgasm, and said huskily, "I'm... uh... coming!"

"Coming..." was all he was able to say as I heard the rapid grunts of a man in full ecstasy.

Words between us were impossible as we writhed in mutual sexual bliss, hissing and moaning! It took a long time to wind down from such heights of carnal pleasure.

"Man!" he sighed, "that was spectacular!"

"I can't wait for the next time," I told him.

"Shall I call..."

I interrupted. "Call tomorrow night. This was too quick. Let's really make a night of it tomorrow. Okay?"

"Yes! I'll call. But I know one thing..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna wear out another pair of undershorts tomorrow, thinking about you."

"Yes! Me, too! And they're gonna get soaked just remembering this. Thanks. This was great!"

"Yes! Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow. G'night!"

"G'night!"

I put the receiver down. I felt good. We'd do this again, tomorrow. I knew it would be even better!

 

Jack Sofelot

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