By Peter Newman
(Cummin’Up.Vol2.No1.1990)
The boss was a wimp. I could tell that the moment I saw him. Oh, I don't mean
the owner of the Leather Shop where I applied for work as a salesman, he was a
big beefy guy, Ralph was. But the store manager, Freddie, was skinny, balding,
meek and mild mannered. I guessed he was the manager because he didn't have the
guts to meet the public and try to sell them the merchandise. Probably good with
figures or maybe he was even Ralph's sissy nephew. Anyway, I was on probation,
and he was the one I had to answer to, so I was determined to do the best I
could.
It wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't help but wonder how Freddie would
react if a real man like me bent him over a table, pulled down his pants, and
rammed my long, thick hard cock up his asshole. I could almost hear him whimper
as I thought of it. And I imagined his cheeks stretched wide with my raw meat
plunging down his throat and my balls resting on his chin.
It was a strange fantasy for me because I go for the big muscular macho he-men —
the kind who wear leather caps and leather harnesses and leather gloves and
boots and — well, leather just about anything. As you might have guessed, I'm
wild about leather. The sight of a man in leather turns me on. The feel of
leather makes my blood race. The smell of leather makes my nostrils twitch and
my head swim. The touch of leather gives me a hard on that won't quit. That was
one reason I got the job working in a leather shop in a mini mall. That and the
fact that I was new in town and would be able to meet some studs coming in to
buy merchandise and make them my asshole buddies if only for a night or two. I'm
not greedy — give me a cock to suck and an asshole to lick, and I'm satisfied.
Of course, I wouldn't mind a guy plowing my dirt road either — if he's man
enough for it.
And pissing? Well, I'm not really into that, but for the right man, who knows?
The job went well right from the first week. There were a lot of girls who came
in looking for gifts for their boyfriends, and a lot of straight guys, too, and
my obvious love for leather showed and made me so animated and sincere in my
pitches that I made a lot of sales. I mean, who can resist a good looking
salesman who fondles the merchandise as though it's a live thing, who presses it
against his face and inhales so deeply the aroma almost gives him an orgasm.
The straight guys ignored my passion, some of the girls thought I was cute, and
I thought I was getting somewhere with this one blonde hunk when his boyfriend
swooped down and spirited him away from me. Shit!
One thing that annoyed me, though, was that the wimp — I mean, Freddie, my
immediate supervisor and the store manager — was watching me a lot. It wasn't as
though he was suspicious of anything, because he had no reason to be, but it
bothered me until I finally noticed that he kept looking at my crotch and
wetting his lips. I had thought he was probably gay, but I wasn't really sure
until now. I bet he'd come in his shorts if I hauled out my whang and told him
to suck it.
But I didn't. I wasn't that desperate — at least not yet. Still, the wimp might
have a nice virgin-tight fuck tunnel that would be good for practice until the
real thing came along. I decided I'd keep Freddie in mind for future reference.
On the weekend I cruised some of the gay bars but I was too particular and came
away empty handed, so Monday morning my balls were aching for release. It didn't
help relieve the pressure any when a hot biker came in during the late
afternoon. He wasn't a member of any gang, just a dude who was on vacation and
loved to get out of his business suit and dress up in leather. He was living
proof that clothes make the man. I probably would have passed the fucker by if
he'd been wearing civvies — but decked out in leather and shopping for more to
take with him, he was gorgeous. Needless to say, I got an immediate hard on. I
made some overtures to the guy, but when he got suspicious I knew he was
straight, so I backed off. When he left with his purchases I glanced out the
window to see a longhaired chick climb on the back of his bike with him and roar
off down the street.
Shit — my balls were aching now so hard I wished I'd taken one of these gay bar
creeps home with me. But I hadn't. I picked up a leather glove the last customer
had tried on. It was still warm from his hand. I raised it to my nose and
smelled the sweat and warmth from his palm and fingers.
There were no other customers in the store so I took the glove into the empty
storeroom in back, sat behind a packing case, hauled out my whanger and stuck
the leather glove down over it. I grabbed the outside of the glove and
vigorously pumped my cock with it. I was already primed and ready, and the feel
of that leather on my hard male flesh made me squirt off about a gallon of hot,
fresh jism into the glove.
It was great. I felt so euphoric that I didn't even mind the mess in the glove
that I'd been intending to remove at the last second and hadn't. Breathing
heavily, I closed my eyes and relaxed for a moment — and promptly fell asleep.
Sleeping on the job wasn't one of my habits, fortunately, but I must've been
more tired than I'd thought, besides which that orgasm was so intense it drained
all my energy. I came awake, glanced at my watch — it was almost nine o'clock,
and the store closed weekdays at six! — and almost groaned. I'd have some fancy
explaining to do to the wimp when I saw him. I started to get up, then froze, as
I glanced around the packing case and saw the wimp in person. I could hardly
believe that this was Freddie standing there at the other end of the room.
He'd brought in a full length mirror from the main store and he was in front of
it, pos-turing, smiling at his reflected image. He'd traded his business suit
for some of the leather stuff we sold at the store — and some that we didn't
sell. He'd removed his glasses and pulled on a leather cap over his bald skull
at a rakish angle. From the neck down he had more skin showing than leather, but
there was the harness, the belt, the pouch over his genitals, the boots and — I
couldn't believe it — a leather cat in one hand that he swished menacingly back
and forth as he struck one macho pose after another. Clothes make the man? It
would’ve been a miracle if they did in Freddie's case. I tried to hold back my
guffaw and failed. When the wimp turned to face me, I struggled to my feet and
snickered. "Going to a masquerade ball, boss?"
You know something odd: he must have been surprised to see me, but it didn't
show on his face. He said in a loud, harsh tone I'd never heard him use before.
"I wondered what happened to you. I thought you'd gone home early, but you were
back here jacking off like a sissy."
Annoyed, I said, "Piss on you. Look here —"
But he said, "No, asshole, you look here —" And he jammed the hard handle of the
cat up between my legs in a way that had me standing on tiptoe and holding my
breath.
His face was about an inch from mine. It was the same face — but it wasn't wimpy
any more. This guy meant business. I gulped and managed, "What — what do you
want?" He grinned, pulled the whip handle from between my legs.
"For starters, you can suck my dick." He put his hands on my shoulders and
pushed down with more force than I'd have expected of him. As I went down on my
knees in front of him, he pulled away the pouch covering his genitals and stuck
his cock and balls in my face. "You're a pretty good salesman, asshole. Let's
see if you can suck dick like a man!" It had been weeks since I'd sucked a cock,
and my mouth had been watering for one. To hell with those guys in the bar; here
was one that was available right now, and I wasn't going to pass it up. I held
onto Freddie's thighs with both hands and sucked his cock into my mouth in one
gulp. It wasn't a big cock, but it wasn't a small one either. As it hardened it
got stubby and filled my mouth.
I heard the leather tails whisper behind my back as he said, "Come on, what are
you, an amateur? Lick those balls. Get under them. Kiss my asshole, asshole!"
He laughed raucously at that, but I didn't mind. I was enjoying sucking his cock
so much I didn't care what humiliation he heaped on me. I stroked his stiff cock
with one hand while I glided my tongue down his shaft to his balls, which I
kissed fervently all over. I wanted desperately to linger on that hairy sac and
worship those balls orally, but I went farther. I craned my head so I could get
my mouth and tongue on that most sensitive area between his balls and his
asshole. I felt immensely pleased when he shivered with the intense excitement
that my mouth was giving him.
Suddenly I wanted his cock spurting off in my mouth, and I told him so. The nine
tails of the cat whisked dangerously near my butt as he exploded, "I give the
orders here — you just follow them. Do you understand, asshole?"
I nodded fearfully. "Yes — yes, boss."
He smiled and rolled the whip handle over my lips. "And speaking of assholes,
asshole, that's where you're going to get my load of come. Take off your clothes
— and hurry."
I hurried. When I was completely naked, I was proud of the fact that my cock was
up good and hard. It was a little longer than his, but not as thick — certainly
not as impressive as his when he had on that leather to frame it all with. I
stared at his thick cock and wondered if my ass membranes could stretch all that
distance. Sure, they could, I hoped. "Get up and bend over that packing case,"
he ordered.
I leaped up to obey him, bending over the case, with my face lying flat against
the harsh rough wood, my hands behind me spreading my ass cheeks apart so he
could get at his target. I heard him rummaging around, and a moment later felt
his Vaseline-loaded fingers feeling around the rim of my asshole, and then
working the grease several inches inside it to lube the way for his hard, fat
cock.
My tight asshole was tingling even before he got to it with his stiff,
throbbing, greasy cock. I'd never before seen such a dramatic change in a man,
and I thanked the fates that had brought us together. I held my breath and
tensed as I felt the knob tip of his hard flesh press against the wrinkled gates
to my heavenly fuck tunnel.
"Relax!" he commanded — and I felt the teasing leather of the cat play over my
right thigh.
I relaxed — and he pressed his swollen knob past the opening and continued
inward in one mighty thrust that took his entire cock all the way to the hilt. I
was surprised to see a leather glove dangling in front of me. It was the glove
I'd jerked off into.
"Clean this up," his strong, authoritative voice commanded, "with your mouth."
Then I felt his own leather-gloved hands grasp my hips as he began the
in-and-out motions of man fucking my ass. Lordy, it was marvellous — getting
fucked by this wimp-turn-ed-stud — but I didn't shirk my duties. I put the open
end of the glove over my mouth, delighting in the musky smell of my cooling cum
juice, and sucked and licked up the residue as quickly and as thoroughly as I
could.
Finished with my chore, I lay down the glove and concentrated on giving and
getting as much pleasure out of this fuck as was humanly possible. I hoped
Freddie was having as good a time as I was and he certainly seemed to be. He
quickly came to orgasm. He held his fat cock buried deep in my asshole, and let
loose with blasts that made me moan with the most intense pleasure I've had in a
long time.
When he was through, he eased out his cock and said, "Follow me." He led me to
the store owner, Ralph's, office, which had an adjoining washroom, toilet and
shower. "Get into the shower and sit down so you can wash the piss off your
body."
I sat down on the cold tiles. "But there's no piss on my —" I stopped as his
smile told me what he meant. I'd said, "Piss on you!" But now it was going to be
the other way around. I reached down and fingered my big, stiff cock and closed
my eyes as I felt his warm piss spray over my head, face and neck and run down
my body. What the hell, if a guy's got to take a leak, a guy's got to take a
leak — and frankly, that golden rain felt very good trickling over my chest and
down my belly and into my crotch, where my urine-soaked hand pumped my
urine-soaked cock to another fine orgasm.
"Clean up and lock up," Freddie ordered, turning to go. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes, sir. You're the boss," I piped at him sincerely.
At the door he paused, smiled, and pointed the cat handle at me. "And don't you
ever forget it!" I never have either in all the six months that I've been
happily employed at the Leather Shop — particularly when the boss and I work
late in the stockroom during those very special evenings that are so fulfilling
for us both!
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