Cushing Tailors

The 28-year-old blond, thin, medium height and handsome novelist Arthur Winston had completed his writing quota of three pages for the day at 2:00 PM. He strode down the hallway of his Russell Square house and looked in at his four-old daughter and two-year-old son playing with their nanny. His wife, Charlotte was spending the afternoon with her close friend Helen.

They had been married for five years, having meet at a dinner party and where they hit it off. Charlotte’s grandfather had been a prosperous wine merchant and Arthur’s people were civil servants. The free-spirited couple had frankly discussed their personal proclivities early on, and so their union was conventional on the surface, with each free to follow their desires privately.

“Good afternoon Mr. Winston” said Mr. Cushing when Arthur arrived at Cushing Tailors. “Good afternoon” Arthur said, handing an envelope to Mr. Cushing. “Everything is in order, sir.” Arthur walked through the hallway in the back of the shop and opened a door.

“Will it be the usual today, sir?” said the grinning Aiden Murphy. He was sitting nude except for his black stockings in a red velvet chair. His legs were spread wide, displaying his magnificent loins. His sizeable balls hung on display like exotic fruit and he was wanking his grand prick with its foreskin rolled back.  He’d measured it with Mr. Cushing’s tape measure and could honestly boast of possessing a perfectly shaped 7.5 x 5 inches.  

Aiden was a 20-year-old Black Irish rouge of immense charm. His sly masculine voice had just a lilt of his native accent. Having worked as a stone mason growing up in Killarney, his physique had developed noticeable musculature. At 18, he’d naively come to London in search of greater opportunities. However, only day laborer jobs materialized. Mr. Cushing spotted him and his swaggering bulge one evening in a pub, carousing with his mates. Observing Aiden’s magnetic facial features, dark hair, piercing blue eyes and cocky physicality, Mr. Cushing introduced himself. He privately explained the nature of his business, and how Aiden could better himself. Soon after, Aiden was at Cushing Tailors shagging the cream of London society. Busily accumulating capital, Aiden planned to eventually open his own pub. Arthur Winston was one of his several prize customers.

“Oh yes, the usual” sighed Arthur as he descended to his knees. He gorged himself on Aiden’s glorious prick surrounded by its tamed bush of black hair. Licking and suckling every bit of it and feasting on those lovely balls brought him life’s renewal. He could taste Aiden’s essence as his rod grew even larger from his oral efforts. Aiden eventually rose and spun Arthur around. He put his powerful arms around Arthur and ground his erection against his bottom. Feeling Aiden’s solid warm body and throbbing member aroused Arthur’s own considerable endowment to swell in his trousers.  Aiden tore off Arthur’s jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt and threw it to the floor, he undid his belt and his trousers fell, he pulled down his drawers as well. Arthur kicked off his shoes and was now nude except for his stockings.

Aiden pulled Arthur to sofa and tossed him on his back onto a pillow so that his arse was elevated and spread his legs wide. He grabbed Arthurs legs and raised them up. He spat onto Arthur’s crack and then onto to his prick. With a fast thrust, Aiden penetrated Arthur. He then began the act of pounding his prick in and out of Arthur. The room’s lead-lined walls muffled Arthur’s joyous cries. Aiden continued to make love to Arthur as he had done to many girls and men in his village, like a true cocksman. He bent his head down and kissed Arthur’s mouth. If Arthur had been standing he would have swooned from feeling Aiden’s stubble brush against his face. The contact of their fiery tongues intensified their mutual pleasure from the fucking. Arthur, overcome with involuntary spasms, began gushing seed from his prick. Aiden, then pulled out having not ejaculated as he had other customers that day.   

They lay on the sofa entwined, basking in the afterglow of the event. Aiden then poured them each a brandy and they smoked a cigarette. Arthur reached into his jacket pocket and handed Aiden an envelope and a small wrapped object.

“What is this, sir?”

“I believe your birthday is in two days.”

“Right you are, sir. I’ll be 21. I’m getting on!” laughed Aiden. “Thanks so much for remembering.” He said undoing the wrapping that revealed a silver cigarette case inscribed with the initials AM on the front and AW on the back. “How lovely!” “It’s my pleasure. Have a wonderful celebration.” “I shall, sir! Enjoy the rest of your day, sir” said Aiden as he left. Arthur put on a dressing gown, collected his clothes and went to a bathroom. He took a hot bath, dressed and said goodbye to Mr. Cushing. He was later at his desk writing.