Leather, Erect, Chest Feel, Hustling, Executive
DAVID 518
A continuation of a series from the Premier Gallery:
He's a big, tall, handsome, beast of a muscle god...and a jerk. He knows I can't resist. He knows I'm addicted as surely as if he was supplying coke or heroin to me. I'm utterly lost. I can't stop thinking about him. The span of days that I enforce upon myself to make it look like I'm fine are getting briefer and briefer because I just have to have my fix of him. I can't sleep at night because I can see, in my memory, his sneer, which makes me weak in the knees, his massive shoulders, his hairy chest and those pecs. I sobbed the last time I asked if I could touch them. He held my hands an inch from them and then said no.
"Maybe next time," he'd said with that crooked half smile.
I begged. I pleaded. I got on my knees. I started to cry. I tore my gaze from them and held my head as though it was going to explode.
"I'll bring you more money!" I whimpered.
"How much?"
I didn't know. The savings account was empty. The stock certificates had all been cashed in. If I stole from the church fund or the school account, I'd be caught. I didn't care. I'd make up a story and put the money back when I got paid. I could pawn my wife's wedding watch. I could take a little from the kids' college account.
He bent down and aimed those blue jewel eyes right at me. "You don't think people know something's going on?"
I was breathless. "I've been really careful. Really careful."
"Can't be careful forever. Your boss is gonna ask you to explain certain things. Your wife's gonna start looking at the bank statements. She's going to ask you where your wedding ring is. The pastor's gonna start tracing back deposits."
"No, they won't."
"Yeah they will. And then you're going to get caught. The whole neighborhood. the school, your wife, the church, your work....they're gonna know that this married, conservative, church-going pillar of the community has no control when there's a big, handsome, muscled, he-man standing in front of him."
I couldn't speak. I told myself I should get up and run. Run and never look back. Run and not think of the long nights seeing his body and face and dreaming of him taking me, holding me down, and doing unspeakable things to me while I struggled...struggled just to make myself feel better, so that I could tell myself later that I tried to stop him, all the while knowing that I could have tried harder and that in fact no one could escape his throbbing sex pole and thrusting hips, his iron grip, his massive chest pressing down on you.
"You're gonna get caught and you're never gonna get what you really, really want."
It was true. He'd only let me touch him a few times. One night I was allowed to pet his beard. Another night he gave permission to feel his thighs. The last time we met, he let me caress the smooth, firm, creamy globes of his ass. But there was something more I wanted. Desperately.
"Tell you what," he began. "How'd you like to fill your hands with this?" He ran one hand across his hairy chest.
Like a mindless idiot, I whimpered.
"Fill your hands," he said. "Thick slabs of muscle."
"Oh please!" I begged.
"Hairy...HAIRY pecs. How'd you like to stuff your face in between 'em? Right here. And feel 'em flexing?"
My breath was fast and desperate. I nodded.
"Before you're caught, how'd you like to stand behind me, press your crotch up against my butt---"
"Ohhhh!"
"--and reach around front and stroke and pet and feel 'em bouncing?"
"Yes! Yes!" I screamed. I grabbed the shins of his black leather boots in desperation. "Please! Now! I have to! You don't understand! I'll go crazy! I won't sleep! I swear I won't be able to think of anything else!"
"Next Friday night. Right here."
"NO!" Now! Please!" I sobbed.
"Bring me double what you paid me tonight."
"But--but I, I can't...I don't have any more. I don't have any more."
"Find some."
"There's no way."
"Is that a "no" then?"
I held my breath and bit my lip. I looked up at him and said, "I'll find a way. Double what I paid you tonight."
"'Cause this is what you've been aching for, isn't it? This is what you wanted to touch, but you were too afraid to ask."
I nodded, defeated. He knew me inside and out.
"You just keep thinking of your hands full of the biggest, brawniest, hairiest chest. At last. Finally."
"At last."
2011