The Shopping Trip
I waited up, just in case Damien needed anything when he got home. He came in late, well after his shift. I asked him if he’d seen Dylan.
“Yep, we hung out at his place.”
Nothing more. We both went to bed.
The next day was Sunday. We both had the day off. I asked permission to buy Damien some new clothes. He had an interview for a research job. I wanted to help him land it. I fixed breakfast before we headed to the mall. We caught up while we walked—small talk.
We stopped at Starbucks. I headed to the counter to order our usual—his usual had become mine.
When I returned with the coffee, he was chatting with someone. I recognized him immediately. Kyle. Apparently, he also lived and worked in the neighborhood.
I handed Damien his coffee and nodded. Seeing Kyle out of context shook me—but I stayed calm. “I’m not sure I got your name the other night.” he said, offering his hand. He was clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“Steve.”
“Kyle.”
“Yeah.”
“Nice to officially meet.” He said, turning to Damien. “I should get going. I had a blast the other night, we should hang again.”
“Totally. Maybe this weekend?” He took a beat. “Hold on—I gotta hit the head. But then we’ll walk out with you.”
Kyle smiled at me. I stood awkwardly. “Did you have fun the other night?” He asked me.
“Um, yeah, I did.”
“It looked like it.”
I wasn’t sure what else to say so I looked at my phone, checking socials. I looked up. Kyle was leaning casually, watching me. He wasn’t really my type, but that cockiness was hot. I did my best to ignore him and focus on what I was doing.
When Damien rejoined us, he looked relaxed—too relaxed. He handed me his cup.
“Try this. Tastes off to me,” he said, glancing at Kyle.
My stomach dropped. My fingers curled around the warm cup.
I knew.
Flushed, I lifted it slowly—feeling their eyes on me.
I took a breath. It felt like a test, and I wanted to pass.
I brought his cup to my lips and drank.
It was bitter. Metallic.
I swallowed hard and said, voice steady, “Tastes fine to me.”
Damien smirked. “Huh. Must be just me.” Then he grabbed my coffee from my other hand and sipped it without comment. As we walked out the door, Damien leaned over to Kyle and whispered our secret into his ear.
Kyle laughed looking back at me, “Good coffee?” I nodded as I brought it back to my lips and drank smoothly. “Next time you’ll have to try mine.” Then they both laughed.
I walked behind them a couple of paces until Kyle peeled off at the next block. My cheeks burned as he gave me a final wave. I smiled and waved. I drank the last of it.
Damien reached over and grabbed my crotch, holding my erection a moment before letting go.
“You fucking liked that.” A playful smile on his lips.
“Uh, yeah.” I looked to see if anyone was in earshot.
“You sick fuck.” He said and we both laughed.
We walked a block more in companionable silence.
“Dylan showed me the video.”
“Oh?” I wanted to ask so many questions but instead I waited.
“He said he left you the puppy tail.”
“Yep, I have it.”
“At home, I want you to wear that whenever I’m there. Let’s make that a standing instruction unless I tell you different.”
“Yes, of course.”
“That includes when others are there. If I’m in the apartment, you are wearing a tail. I don’t want to have to ask you.”
“You won’t.”
We walked a bit further.
“If I told you to strip right now, in the middle of the street, would you?”
I looked around, suddenly anxious. I reached for the button of my jeans. “All the way off?”
“Fuck. You would, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well don’t do it.” I refastened the button. “Let’s not get you arrested before you buy me my new clothes.” He smiled.
We arrived in the men’s department and were met by a very gay and very friendly sales associate named Marcus.
“What are you looking for, boys? Anything I can help with?”
He was clearly flirting with Damien. One of the things I liked about Damien was that he wasn’t ashamed of our community. Some guys, particularly if they’re “masc” can be offput by more feminine leaning boys. Damien enjoyed the attention. He flirted back.
“My old friend here offered to buy me some interview clothes. So I need something dressy but not too uncomfortable.” Marcus smiled at the jibe.
“Well, that’s nice of him. Is it your birthday?”
“Nope.”
Damien let that sit for a moment. No explanation.
“I see.” turning to me, “Did you have anything specific in mind?”
“Marcus, fashion isn’t Steve’s strength.”
I smiled and let Damien take the lead.
“Great, well, I do have some suggestions,” turning back to me again. “Did you have a budget in mind?”
Damien looked at me giving his silent permission. The exchange didn’t go unnoticed. “No,” I said. “No specific budget. Let’s see what you suggest and go from there?”
Marcus was a professional. He didn’t ask any more questions. He brought us shirts and pants, shoes and even socks. As Damien tried them on, Marcus and I bonded over our appreciation (my worship) of Damien. The upside of having Marcus there was that Marcus wasn’t shy. In every outfit he assessed—out loud—if it highlighted Damien’s ample package or lifted his “firm, round ass”. The shirts he chose highlighted the muscles in Damien’s biceps. Marcus directed him like he was a runway model. Marcus was good.
Damien went back to change into the last outfit leaving Marcus and I alone. Marcus cleared his throat. “Do you need some water?” I asked.
He cut his eyes dramatically to a very good-looking young man loitering near our group. He couldn’t have been more than 20. He was dressed in a hoodie, sagging jeans and a pair of pristine white Vans. I watched him a moment until Damien walked out of the dressing room, then I saw it. The boy was hooked. I gave a knowing look to Marcus.
In the end we chose two new “interview outfits” and then I asked Marcus to recommend some shorts and a Polo for casual wear. Damien’s muscular calves, covered with soft blond hair looked amazing. We added those items to the day’s haul.
Marcus carried our purchases to the cash register. I stopped in “basics” and picked out a dozen pairs of Calvin Klein briefs and another half dozen lululemon boxer shorts. “Let’s add these in.” I said as casually as I could manage.
“Oh, thank you. Will I have the chance to wear them more than once?”
I felt my face burn. It was an off-handed remark, but Marcus caught his meaning. I smiled through my embarrassment and even managed an “I hope not.”
We said our goodbyes to Marcus, promising to come back the next time we wanted to splurge. I grabbed the bags as Damien headed for the door.
I noticed the boy was still loitering.
I asked Damien if he’d noticed his admirer. Instead of an answer he asked me if I’d been taking my supplements. The question set my heart racing.
After that first night, he’d started me on fiber supplements—“Peachy Clean”—and a strict vegetarian diet. He wanted me ready—always.
We passed a wide alley behind the department store, mostly empty except for a few dumpsters. He slowed slightly. Our eyes met.
He gave the smallest nod, barely more than a flick of his chin.
I walked into the alley. After a moment, he followed.
Adrenaline surged. Knees buckled, palms slick. Behind the dumpster: no cameras. No witnesses. I set the bags down, careful to ensure nothing got dirty.
Damien leaned against the wall.
A moment later, another pair of footsteps followed. Slower. Hesitant.
I risked a glance. It was the boy from the department store.
Damien saw him too. He’d been waiting for him.
The boy stopped when he saw me standing behind the dumpster. Damien beckoned him closer. The boy took another step. Damien turned to me.
“Pull your pants down,” he said just loud enough for the boy to hear. I quickly undid my belt and pulled my pants and underwear to my knees. “All the way.” I pushed them to the ground.
“Bend over.” He walked behind me, facing our audience. He used his foot to hold my pants down.
“Wider.”
I pulled my foot free from a pant leg and spread my legs wider.
The boy pulled his hood over his head hiding his face then unzipped his fly to free his cock.
Damien spit, giving me the bare minimum of lube.
I could hear people talking as the passed the entrance to the alley. It was broad daylight. It was insane. There were several solid steel doors that opened on the alley.
“More.”
I bent further, exposing my hole.
I waited, placing my hands on the dumpster in front of me. I looked up at the boy. He was clearly nervous and just as clearly not leaving.
His zipper. Then sudden pressure.
I grunted, my hands braced on the cool steel dumpster, legs trembling beneath me. Heat and pressure crashed into my unready hole. My body tensed, fighting; then it gave way.
Silence stretched. Damien moved like water—slow, deliberate. He paused at the edge. Before he came, he pulled out. Control. He smirked. The boy edged closer, curious.
And then—
He plunged back in. Hard. He fucked me so fiercely the world spun. My breath caught; I banged my head. Skin slapping, heart pounding—his seed exploded inside me. A low moan escaped, animal and raw.
When he was done, he stepped back. I started to stand.
“Stay,” he said. Then, “He’s ready.” I froze—Damien’s cum dripping down my leg.
The boy hesitated only a second. Damen handed him a condom. He didn’t speak as he rolled it on. He stepped behind me. He pushed. I gasped.
He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t take long.
He pulled out. Dropped the condom. Left without a word.
Damien watched him leave. He looked at me, naked from my waist to my socks. “I’m going to let you buy me dinner as a treat.” Then he walked back to the street.
I stood there shaking, fumbling to get my pants on over my shoe. I felt Damien’s ownership in that stare. I heard a door open just as I grabbed the bags and ran after my Master.
