The Barter

Info begal33
23 Mar. '17

There was only one customer in the store - a short, potbellied man fondling a pair of camel-hair bedroom slippers - when I glanced through the display window and saw Randall's silver Ford Mustang cruising across the crowded shopping mall. Weak-kneed, I watched him park the car in front of the shop and sit there calmly, his wavy black hair fashionably disarrayed, his sunglasses mysteriously hiding his eyes. After the shoe browser left without making a purchase, Randall eased his rugged frame out of the sports car and stepped up onto the sidewalk. His moves were athletic and confident. His body was all bronzed meat, and hard muscle in a bleach white t-shirt and tight dark jeans with the pant legs tucked into the tops of jet-black motorcycle boots I had sold him a few weeks ago. A trail of masculine cologne wafter the air as he strode past me, entering the store.

"Right on time," I said, locking the door and putting up the Out to Lunch sign.

He turned and smiled, flashing strong white teeth. "Something wrong with that?" he asked.

"Oh no," I said. "Not at all. It's, uh...well, it's just that I -"

"Hey," he said, his grey eyes twinkling. "Business is business. And a deal is a deal." He turned and sauntered off toward the backroom, his shoulder muscles rippling under the form-fitting t-shirt, his ass tightly molded inside his jeans. I followed him down a narrow aisle until he stopped and pulled the t-shirt over his head. I stared at the smoothness of his back as he laid the shirt on an empty shelf. When he turned toward me, he did it artistically, slowly revealing a solid chest lightly coated with curly black hair.

"You look great," I said, stepping forward, putting a hand on his waist.

He stared down at me. "You always say that."

I slid both hands up to his shoulders. His body was a chunk of raw energy, feeding excitement to my pounding heart.. "it's always true," I said.

His lips clamped down on mine His tongue leaped into my mouth. His hand gripped the back of my neck and mashed our lips together. When the kiss was broken, I had to cling to him for support. I could feel my body trembling against his. I rested my forehead on his chest.

"Great looking boots," I said, trailing the fingers of my right hand down to his belt buckle.

He laughed. "You always say that, too."

I unbuckled his belt. "Hmmm, I know. Imported leather, steel toes, designer styled. Real class, like you."

He twined his fingers in my hair. I dropped to my knees and began struggling his jeans down his legs. When he was standing in front of me wearing nothing but white Jockey shorts and the black motorcycle boots, I looked up at the hefty bulge growing inside the underwear. A small wet spot was at the center of his crotch. My lips went for it.

"Well, well," Randall said. "I see we're using the direct approach today."

My hands massaged the cotton material covering his ass. My tongue rasped dryly over his leg. "I have to," I said, rubbing my nose along his thick cock, "you've got me on a time limit."

He stuck his left hand inside his underwear and groped his balls. The movement lengthened his cock considerably. "I thought that was your idea?" he said.

Instead of answering I pressed my nose against the pubic hair at the edge of his shorts and kissed my way down his firm, fuzzy thigh to the tantalizing granite flesh above his right knee. Then I was fondling his right boot, licking the musky leather and trailing my tongue along the silver zipper until my lips were at his feet, raining kisses on each square toe while my fingers stroked the reinforced thickness around his heels and ankles.

Seconds later I was working my way up his left boot, caressing and nuzzling the durable leather, inhaling deeply as my face slid over the expensive material. At the top of the boot I stopped and looked up. Muscles rippled along his hardened thighs. The wet spot on his shorts was larger.

"Ahhh, you've been expecting me," I said, and kissed the pulsing lump.

I palmed his ass and pressed my cheek into his crotch. His cock throbbed warmly against my face. I pulled his underwear down to his knees and swallowed his swollen cock. He came immediately his left hand cupping his balls while he squirted hot liquid in my mouth. My fingers ravaged his ass, squeezing and probing the taut flesh. His thighs quivered against my chest as he bucked and jerked, and pleasured himself. When at last I pulled away from his slippery pole, it hung wetly in front of me, long, thick, and limber.

"What time is it?" I asked.

Randall checked the Rolex on his left wrist. "Twelve-thirteen," he said.

"Maybe we can do it three times today."

He shook his head. "We never have."

"Well, if you'd stay an extra minute or two, we might be able to get - "

He squatted down in front of me. His cock dangled erotically between his powerful thighs. I put my hand on the gnarled Jockey shorts, bunched just above his knees. His fingers touched my sweaty cheek.

"Why do we keep going through this?" he asked, sliding his hand down to my shoulder. "I love this arrangement. I'm delighted you suggested it. But it's strictly business, guy. Strictly business."

"It doesn't have to be," I said.

He stood up and looked at his watch. "Yes it does. And you've got thirty-six minutes left."

I stared up at his swaying cock, still immensely sizeable although it wasn't hard. As my lips reached forward to touch it, Randall smiled, and turned around. My mouth and nose slid between the cheeks of his ass. My tongue jabbed at his hole. He stiffened momentarily, then relaxed. Seconds later he was bending over with his hands on his knees whole I gripped the material between his legs and slobbered noisily on the cheeks of his ass.

I worked slowly, kissing, licking, and biting his cheeks, tonguing his warm crack, my face sweating against his slippery buns. His hips began to spasm. His ass started squirming. My hands slid up his steel thighs, pried his cheeks apart. My tongue pushed at his puckered opening. Goose bumps broke out on his skin.

"Jeeezzzusss!" he exclaimed. "Jesus Jesus Jesus!" His hands slid down to his ankles. His asshole opened up and winked at me. I blew hot breath up his crack. His legs trembled.

"Are you ready?" I asked, clinging tightly to his thighs. "No!" he panted. "Keep on! Keep on!"

"Blowing your asshole?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Making you hard again?"

"Yes goddamnit! Yes!" He shoved his butt against my nose. My tongue wriggled slowly up his hairy crevice. My breath bounced warmly off his cheeks. Randall shivered and twitched.

"Christ!" he muttered. "Christ Almighty!"

"Something wrong?" I asked, clamping my hands on his hips.

"No! Do it! Do it!"

My tongue probed his quivering rosebud.

"Deeper! he gasped. "Deeper! Harder!"

I spread his ass wide, and licked his crack, stopping occasionally to catch a breath of air and slurp my way down the fuzzy trail that led to the edge of his balls. Each time I nibbled my way back up his saliva drenched crack, his puckered opening seemed more and more inviting. At one point, I could feel his convulsions squeezing my tongue. I blew hot breath into his wet hole.

"Ahhh," he sighed.

I blew again, then wriggled my tongue into the puckered slot. Randall came alive, squirming and rocking, hips gyrating. A moment later he straightened up and spun around, both hands cupping his balls as he arched his hips forward. The angry red knob on his long, lean rod was slick with pre-cum.

We connected quickly, my hands clawing at his muscular ass as he buried his cock in my throat. Then, tightly gripping my ears, he came hard and fast in my mouth, filling me with spicy semen while his pubic patch hammered my lips. His thighs shuddered. His legs writhed. His cock sputtered and convulsed on my tongue. I drank slowly, relishing the moment, working desperately to keep the adventure alive. But all too soon he was shriveled and soft, once again a glistening tube hanging in front of my face. I watched him pull up his shorts, then got to my feet and kissed hie erect nipples.

"We're gonna make it," I said, running my lips over his chest.

He glanced at his watch. "Not in eleven minutes."

"What! Eleven minutes!"

He smiled, and fingered a swatch of hair from his forehead. "That's the way it goes when you're having fun," he said.

I sighed, and crouched down in front of him, fully realizing that there was not enough time to get him hard again. But I had eleven minutes to spend before his visit was up.

I leaned forward and curled a hand around each boot top. His fingers stroked the back of my neck while I kissed and licked the sensual leather, gradually making love to first one leg, then the other. A few inches above each knee, I rubbed my face into the flesh of a rockhard thigh and breathed deeply, saturating my mind with his natural masculinity before letting my lips fall back to his erotic footgear. I was crouched down on my knees and elbows, neck craned, clutching both his heels and licking his left ankle, when I ran out of time.

"Shit," I mumbled, pulling myself up, brushing off my trousers and tucking in my shirt tail..

Randall picked up his t-shirt and quickly pulled it on over his head. When he was back inside his jeans he ran a comb through his hair and checked his watch. "I gave you an extra minute," he said. "Maybe next time I'll give you two."

I walked with him all the way out to the driver's side of the car. He scooted under the wheel, put the key in the ignition, checked the rearview mirror, and gave me a cocky smile. I leaned down and peered in the open window. He unzipped his jeans and let his cock hang out.

"You're amazing," I said.

"Only way to be," Randall said.

I glanced around at the noonday traffic criss-crossing the mall. "I'm going to miss you when this is over."

He put his hand on top of mine. "You're not going to make another sales pitch, are you?"

"Of course I am. You can have the whole goddamn store if you want it. I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

He gave me a lopsided grin. "You already did that."

"I mean, a better one."

"Don't see how you could."

"Oh yeah? How about a nice leather jacket, maybe two?"

His eyes lit up. "You don't sell leather jackets."

"Don't worry about it. I'll work out the details."

He ignited the Firebird's engine, put a knowing grin on his face, and started backing away. "We'll talk," he said. "We'll talk."

As I watched him drive across the parking lot, and exit onto sixth street, I realized that my remark about a couple of leather jackets might have been a little hasty, not to mention expensive. But I had to do something or I was gonna lose him.

In three more visits, the boots would be paid for.