Ups and Downs

Being Served

If getting groped at the men’s store that morning was a treat, what happened later in the afternoon was a real blowout.

After getting fitted for suits and picking up a few dress shirts along with shoes, socks, and ties, we grabbed a quick lunch at the mall and then headed down to Hillcrest, San Diego’s gayborhood. Our destination was The Body Shop, which has nothing to do with automobile bodies. Rather, it’s about human bodies, specifically male bodies, more specifically gay male bodies. It’s a shop that features clothing, mostly swimsuits and underwear, as well as sex paraphernalia for gay men.

“Woody Baby!” called out the hyperkinetic man across the room as he saw Woody, Rafael, and me enter the store. Then, he practically sprinted across the floor to meet us, hugging and kissing Woody at the end. And when Woody introduced Rafael and me, the man we came to know as Jimmy hugged and kissed both of us as well.

“Good to see you again, Jimmy. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“So busy, Baby. Holidays coming up, you know.”

“Yes, and speaking of holidays, you are coming to our annual Halloween bash, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Best party of the year,” he said to Rafael and me.

“Jimmy,” said Woody, “I have to run another errand, so would you take care of these young men while I’m gone?”

“Oooh, it will be my pleasure,” he gushed. “And what are we looking for today?”

“A couple of swimsuits and half a dozen pairs of underwear.”

“I don’t really need a swimsuit, do I?” I asked Woody.

“There will be events at the estate that are not clothing optional, and you’ll probably want to take a swim at the hotels when you are traveling.”

As I nodded my assent, Rafael spoke up, “But Woody, you bought me a bunch of underwear earlier this year.”

“And I wouldn’t have to keep buying you underwear,” Woody mocked, “if you didn’t keep losing it.”

“How can you lose underwear?” I asked Rafael incredulously.

“Oh, Joe,” said Jimmy, touching my arm as he spoke, “You obviously don’t know Rafael very well. He loses his underwear in one of three ways:

• he hooks up with a guy and leaves his place so euphoric over his conquest that he just forgets his underwear
• the guy insists on keeping the underwear as a memento of his conquest…and probably never washes it
• he leaves it behind in his haste to abscond when the guy’s husband (or wife) shows up unexpectedly.”

“Or all of the above,” Woody added jokingly. As Jimmy and I poked Rafael in jest, Woody slipped out, calling behind, “Put it on our account. I shouldn’t be more than an hour. You boys behave yourselves until I get back,” and he went off laughing, as if he knew something we didn’t.

Jimmy immediately pulled us toward the most revealing swimsuits and underwear, the ones with pouches designed to protrude, not suppress. “You must try these on,” he insisted, directing us to changing stalls—no doors, only curtains—“because the sizes are not universal. The European ones tend to run small.”

Rafael and I took Jimmy’s selections into adjacent stalls, where Jimmy kept peeking around the curtains, assessing the appropriateness of each item as we changed. “That one fits, but it doesn’t do you justice. That one is a bit too small for a man with so much to showcase. Good fit, wrong color.” Each time I would try on a new pair, Jimmy would rub his hands over my butt and bounce my balls as if that had anything to do with getting a good fit.

For Rafael, Jimmy picked out one swimsuit with a built-in C-ring, a strap. Rafael asked Jimmy for his help since he wasn’t sure how to put it on. Frankly, I think Rafael was just looking for an excuse to have Jimmy cup him, and Jimmy was more than happy to oblige.

With all the groping and stroking, Rafael and I were both starting to “outgrow” our briefs, which I am sure was Jimmy’s plan all along. “Woody insisted that I take care of you,” he demanded, and with that he pulled us both out of the stalls where he could reach both of our dicks and alternate sucking.

As he was working on our cocks, other customers entered the store and greeted Jimmy, acting like nothing out of the ordinary was happening at all. They just went about their shopping. Occasionally, one would pause to take a good look or to pat Jimmy on the head, and a couple commented on the size or shape of our dicks, but they did so rather nonchalantly, like it was no big deal to get a blow job in a store.

Rafael’s cock was almost as big as mine, so I was quite surprised when Jimmy stuffed both of them into his mouth at the same time. I couldn’t imagine that they would fit, but they did, and I must say that I enjoyed the sensation of Rafael’s dick rubbing against mine as we were both getting blown, and it was a double treat when we filled Jimmy’s mouth together. Jimmy, caught off guard by all the cum, couldn’t hold it all, so some oozed out of his mouth and down his chin as he released our dicks. A customer, passing by at just that moment, quickly got down on his knees to recover the dripping spooge, which he and Jimmy then swapped back and forth as they kissed. The stranger also seized on the opportunity to lick the residual cum off of our dicks, which Rafael and I didn’t mind at all. I never knew that shopping could be so rewarding or so much fun.

Woody returned from his errand just as Jimmy had finished tallying up our purchases. “Did you guys get what you needed?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah!” we gloated, giving away a lot more enthusiasm than we probably should have.

As we were leaving the store with our purchases, the stranger who had helped Jimmy “wipe up” slipped me a piece of paper which, I realized later, contained his name and phone number.

As always, Kim prepared a delicious dinner that evening, and while we were eating, word must have gotten around that Rafael and I had been shopping for swimsuits and underwear, and as we walked around the pool, a cheer went up from the guys there: “Show us, show us, show us.” So, Rafael and I retrieved our purchases from our rooms, brought them back downstairs, and put on a show for the guys amid whistles, catcalls, gropes, and profanity laced teases.

Three days later, Rafael and I went back to Brooks Brothers to pick up our new suits. As promised, we showed up about ten minutes before closing. As François sent the other employees home and locked the door, I flashed back to all the nights I had closed up the hardware store back in Columbus. I felt sad at the loss of my home, my friends, and my family, but at the same time, I gave thanks for my new home, friends, and, yes, my new family. As my thoughts turned to all the trysts in the storeroom, my dick got hard again, and François definitely took notice.

François was all bottom and delighted at the prospect of giving his ass to two tops. Of course, over the past few months, I had come to enjoy the pleasures of being a bottom as well as a top, but that night, I was delighted to sink my hard dick into a hot ass. I had also come to learn that Rafael was versatile too and was more than happy to tag team François with me.

For at least half an hour, Rafael and I rotated spit roasting François, five minutes or so fucking his ass and then five minutes fucking his skull. “Oh fuck!” gasped Rafael as he drilled François’ hole. “Oh shit, man. I’m comin’, I’m comin’! Jeezzus fuckin’ christ!” As Rafael filled François’ bowels, I felt my own cock stretch and throb in François’ mouth, so I was surprised when he pulled my dick out and panted, “Not here, mon ami. Breed me. I want your seed in me.”

When Rafael was totally spent, he collapsed onto the floor, and I took his place in François’ love canal. I loved the sensation of sliding into his hole after Rafael had lubed it up for me with his man cream. It was not just the feeling of the smoothness of entry, but the thrill of sharing that most intimate experience with another man, a friend, knowing that my own juices would soon be mixed with his—an experience I had shared so any times with Mr. Sullivan back in Georgia.

When I exploded inside of François, I screamed, not like Rafael had, but a deep, long, visceral, primal, almost feral scream, hoping my noise would not attract the mall cops. With my body totally spent, I collapsed on top of François with my eyes starting to water. If Rafael and François noticed at all, I’m sure they thought they were just watering from the intensity of my orgasm. It couldn’t be tears. No, I was way too tough for that. Butch guys like me didn’t cry.

Back in my room, I took a shower and made a commitment to call my sister Amy for her birthday. She had kept in touch with me, giving me updates and encouraging me to keep going, even when things were really tough on the streets and in the seedy motels of Atlanta. As I was drying off, though, my phone rang. It was Amy.

“Thank you, Joe. It’s the best birthday present ever.”

I couldn’t imagine why she was being so effusive. “It’s just a sweater, Sis. No big deal.”

“Oh, yeah, of course I love the sweater too, but I’m talking about the other present.”

The other present?

“I know it’s old, but it runs beautifully. You’ve kept really good care of it, and it means all the more to me knowing that you gave it to me.”

My car. Mr. Block…or Woody…sometimes I wonder who’s really calling the shots around here…bought my car, and instead of selling it, he gave it to Amy, telling her that it was a present from me. Damn!

“You…you’re welcome, Amy. I don’t really need it here, and I couldn’t think of anybody better to pass it along to than you.”

We spent the rest of the evening catching up. I told her about what a nice place I was living in and all the fantastic people I had met. Of course, I didn’t tell her about “those” experiences, but I did tell her that I would be going to Greenwich for an art show in a couple of weeks.

“Oh, you’ve gotta tell Eric,” she insisted. “I know he would love to see you.”

“Really?” I questioned.

“He loves you, Joe. He asks about you all the time.”

This didn’t seem like the older brother I barely knew, but New Haven is just down the road from Greenwich, so maybe he would come over to see me. I hoped so, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

To be continued