Big and Tall Mike Kane

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It depicts sexual acts between consenting adults. If you are too young to be reading such things or live somewhere its illegal, stop now before it's too late! The acts depicted here are not meant to be an endorsement for any type of unsafe sexual behavior, so don't take it as such. The people involved are also fictional, although if you're anything like Bert I'd love to hear from you. I'd also love to hear from anyone else who cares to comment. Please feel free to reach me at Topdownlow07@gmail.com.

Weekday afternoons are usually slow. I can't remember the last time I had more than one customer before 5 PM or on a weekend. I'd set up the schedule so I was working alone. No sense paying the teenage slackers to work when there was none to do.

It was Wednesday, which is if anything my slowest day, so I was pleasantly surprised when the door beeped as it opened. I was in the backroom checking the inventory and was glad to leave the paperwork.

Or rather customers. It was a couple. She was a short, heavy set woman wearing a floral nightmare of a sundress with hair so aggressively red that nature had nothing to do with it. She was chattering at her male companion.

He was something else and looked like exactly the kind of man I'd gone into the business for. I took a few seconds longer than strictly necessary to look him over from my semi-hidden spot by the changing room. He was, in my expert estimation, 6'2" and close to three hundred pounds of built like a brick wall male. I saw a lot of his type of Minnesota Farm Boy in the store, with blonde hair cut back to fuzz and a thick goatee/mustache. He had sharp cheekbones over soft cheeks and a long mostly-straight nose with a little crooked bump. His eyes were so blue I could see them from across the store.

I stepped out and said, "May I help you?"

"Yes," the woman said instantly. "We need formal wear for our wedding. Do you carry tuxedoes?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I-"

"It's just that we've been to every formalwear place we can find and none of them rent anything that will fit Bert."

"Well, as I was-"

"I really need to find him something that will match my bridal party's gowns. And most of his groomsmen are too big for normal clothes, too, so they'll need to come down here too."

"Honey," Bert said in the slightly exasperated but patient tone of voice I knew so well, "Why don't you let the man speak." His voice was just what I might have hoped for, deep and gravelly. I smiled at him just a little.

She said, "Oh, I'm sorry." She didn't sound like it.

"I'm afraid that we don't carry tuxedoes and if we did we wouldn't rent them. But we do have a wide variety of suits that you might find appropriate."

"I had my heart set of tuxedoes. A girl only gets married once, you know, and I wanted this to be special."

"The man is just trying to help, Jenny." Bert said, looking down at her, and then apologetically at me. "We've taken up too much of his time."

"Nonsense," I said. I crossed to his side and put a hand on his shoulder to guide him toward the formalwear at the back of the shop. He was a few inches taller than me, so it wasn't hard to reach him, but I couldn't have gotten my arms around him if I'd tried. "You should at least take a look at what we have available, otherwise the trip will have been a total waste."

When we arrived I said, "Now, what you see here are only examples of what we offer. Just so you can get a look at what the suits look like. We can handle any alterations you need as well. Please look around and let me know if you have any questions. I'll leave you alone and be just over there." I said, nodding toward a pile of sweaters that needed folding on a table nearby.

It amazes me how people just tune you out and pretend that you're not really human when you work in retail, like you're just a piece of furniture until they want something. I'd come to this store not only because it's customers are just the kind of men I prefer but because they are all too often treated the same way by clothiers and clerks. Treated as if they were deserved abuse or contempt because they were tall or god forbid fat and wanted to look their best. I provided them with the best service I could and my reward was repeat visits, and not just to my store.

Bert pulled something down. "What do you think of this?"

She sighed. "Honestly, Bert. I'm amazed you can even dress yourself sometimes. You know that color will clash with the saffron dresses."

"Oh, I suppose," he replied, hanging the suit back up.

She pulled something off herself. "This is more of what I had in mind. Basic black. But I don't like the cut of it. Double breasted will just make you look even bigger."

"What about this one?" he asked, finding something else on the rack.

This went on for some time, before Jenny seemed to decide she would never find something to suit her. "Honestly, Bert. You've known this was coming for five months. If I could loose ten pounds to fit into my dress, couldn't you have at least tried so we wouldn't have to shop at the fat store?"

"Are you folks finding everything all right?" I asked as I came back up to them. Poor Bert was the kind of pale Scandahoovian boy that flushed when upset and he nearly as red as her hair now.

"As a matter of fact, I'm not finding anything that's good enough," Jenny said without bothering to turn toward me.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I replied. "Perhaps I can help you."

Jenny whirled and snapped, "I already told you what I'm looking for, but you obviously can't help me with that."

"Honey, I don't think..."

She whirled at him, "No, obviously you don't. All I want is for my wedding to be perfect, but you can't even fit into a suit for a normal person, can you? You want to embarrass me in front of my family and all my friends, don't you?"

Before she could start the crying I knew was coming, I said, "It is true that we don't rent tuxedoes, but the right suit and accessories will look far better than a rented tux would anyway. Take this for example," I pulled a recent arrival off the rack. It was a very sleek, black Italian suit. "With the right shirt and a good bow tie, it would be very hard to tell this from a tux."

Jenny examined it closely, feeling the fabric and looking at it as if she wanted to find something wrong with it. Before she could, I went on. "Besides, how familiar are you with rented tuxedoes? Unless you are willing to pay big bucks for one of the ultra-ritzy places, the tux you get is going to be a few years old and would never fit like a tailored suit. Plus, the cost of a suit like this, along with the shirt and other accessories is only going to be about half again as much as renting a tux, and you'll have this suit forever."

That almost seemed to convince her. I turned to Bert. "What do you think of it?"

He took it from me, held it up next to himself to look at in the mirror behind them. "It looks a little too small."

"Obviously, there would have to be alterations. You said several of your groomsmen are larger gentlemen as well? We have a very good discount available for group purchases. This is also a design widely available in smaller sizes so it would be easy to have uniformly dressed groomsmen."

"How long would it take?" Jenny asked.

I said, "A week unless there are special orders."

"The wedding is in a month. How many of your fat drinking buddies did you invite?"

"My brother Rudy is taller than me and almost as big. He's the Best Man." Bert closed as he remembered so I took the opportunity to check him out more shamelessly. He wore a tee shirt with a picture of a surfing St. Bernard and a cute slogan tucked into a pair of hard worn Levi's 501s. I could tell those pants had been through a lot from the white showing through the blue at the knees and ankles and I could tell Bert dressed a sizable member to the right from the whiter area at his crotch. He wore scuffed engineer boots with the steel toe cap visible on his right foot. The stubble on his cheeks and neck made it look like he might not have shaved in a few days, and there was a tuft of fur climbing out of the v-neck of his shirt.

His arms were as big around as my calves, and coated in thick blonde fur. They were tan but it was hard to spot the brown under all the freckles. There was a hint of a tattoo poking out from under the sleeve of his right arm. His fingers were rough, and his knuckles scarred. "Plus Sam and Nick from the plant."

"What about Harold?" Jenny reminded him.

He opened his eyes and grinned, and I nearly melted on the spot. It was the kind of grin that turned a man from a hard, cold machine into the boy next store.

"Can't forget Harold." He said, winking at me. I hoped neither of them would notice the erection that wink sprouted in my slacks.

"Ah, so, ah...that's four other men other than yourself, sir?"

"Yeah."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I can easily accommodate your wedding date."

"What do you think, Honey?" He asked.

"Well, it is a nice suit and you need one for the cruise."

"Excellent." I said. "If you'd join me in the back room, sir, we can get you measured."

I put my hand on Bert's shoulder and held out the other to point him toward the fitting room. Jenny started to follow us.

"If you like, ma'am, we have a wide variety of dress shirts, and accessories you'll want to complete the outfit. Especially if you want him to match your own wardrobe."

She smiled and cooed and went off to poke around the store while I lead Bert into the fitting room.

It was a very small room. There was a platform in the middle with mirrors on three sides so a gentleman can see how a will look from all angles.

"Bert, wasn't it?" I said as we entered the room, holding out my hand.

He grabbed it and shook, a hard squeeze that I returned as well as I could "Yeah, Bert. What was yours?"

"Ronnie." I responded. "Now, Bert, would you please step up?"

I closed and locked the door as he climbed. I wasn't planning on doing anything unprofessional, but I did want to keep him to myself for as long as possible. I hoped he didn't notice that I'd started sweating.

When I turned around he was smiling at me in the mirror. I got a good look at his butt, which was monumental and gorgeous. There was a white ring worn into the fabric of his left back pocket and a leather wallet attached to a silver chain in his right.

I had to step onto the platform to measure his arms and chest. Standing so close I could smell his sweat and aftershave. it made my head swim. "So when is the big day?"

"Uh, August 15th," he replied.

"Looking forward to it?"

"Well, we've been engaged for a year and she won't let me put it off any more."

His chest was an amazing fifty three inches. I was glad that I was standing too close for him to see the boner that was distending my pants even though it was because I was standing so close that made it so unruly. I said, "I've heard that story once or twice," as I stepped down. "If you don't mind my asking, do you lift cars barehanded for a living?"

He chuckled, "What? No! No, but I do make them. Well, trucks."

"Ah, you work over at the Ford plant."

He nodded, "Yeah, along with my brother, an uncle, and a few cousins."

I looked at his chest and arms in obvious admiration, "It must be hard work."

He blushed a little, and said, "Yeah, it's pretty tough. Really physical work." He slapped his big belly and laughed, "But not hard enough for the old lady. I get all the hours I want."

I said, "We'll need to remove these boots so I can measure your in- and out-seams."

He said, "Oh, sure," and started to bend down.

I stopped him, "No please sir allow me. I'm already down here anyway."

I knelt down on the ground in front of the platform before he could protest.

"Well, okay," he said, and lifted his right foot to me.

I pushed the pant leg up revealing a few inches of hairy calf, which I didn't allow myself to touch more than in passing. There was about an inch of white sock visible above the boot. The laces were tucked inside the boot. I pulled them out, untied them and began to loosen the boot. While I did it, I said, "So what branch of the service were you in?"

"Hey, how did you know?"

"Most men who tuck in bootlaces like this picked up the habit in the military."

"Oh, I see." He laughed again. I kept my eyes on his foot so I wouldn't look up at him with puppy-dog eyes. "I was in the reserves for a few years."

I lifted his foot with one hand and pulled the boot off with the other. I'm not a foot fetishist, but when I pulled off that boot and held his warm sock-clad foot in my hand, I understood the fascination. The boot looked like a size 11 at least. His clean, white athletic sock had a small hole over the big toe and there was just a whiff of his manly scent from the boot. Instead of burying my face in it, I started on the other foot.

"She's wrong you know." I said, not looking up at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, sounding confused.

"Even if you'd been on the same kind of fad diets I bet she's always on you wouldn't have been able to buy your clothes at Sears anymore than you can now."

"I don't know, I am heavier than..."

That was enough of that kind of talk. "If you lost every ounce of fat on your body, you'd still have a chest, shoulders and arms that would never fit into off-the-rack clothes. Personally, I'm glad you can't."

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, sounding just a bit annoyed.

I shrugged, "Well if you could, you wouldn't be shopping here. I would be very sorry if I'd never gotten a chance to serve you."

I unlaced his second boot and drew it off his foot while he stood in a slightly befuddled silence.

I moved up onto the platform so I was kneeling a bit to his left side, then put my tape against his hip so I could measure his out seam. "I bet you're more than familiar with getting tape measured if you've been in the service," I said.

"Yeah, I never could make weight, not even in Basic Training. They had to tape me every time." He laughed. "I never had any trouble once they got out the tape."

"See what I mean? Even the Army agrees you aren't fat. You're big, that's different. You said your brother is big, too. I bet all the men in your family are."

I looked up at him, and he looked down at me, smiling. "Yeah, I'm actually the runt of the litter."

"If you're a runt, Bert, I'd almost be afraid to see your family." I smiled back up at him. "Now, please spread your legs a bit, I need to measure the inseam."

He did, and I measured down the right leg. I had to push up against the warm weight of his bulge to do it.

"Hey, be careful down there, Ronnie." Bert said with a slightly nervous grin.

I looked up and smiled. "Don't worry Bert, I'll be as careful as you like while I'm down here."

His grin faltered as he looked down at me, and I didn't need to be psychic to imagine what he was suddenly thinking about. His blush and the faint stir I felt from his bulge made that clear.

I felt flushed myself, and quickly looked down, measuring the length of his leg carefully. Then I measured it again just to be sure I'd gotten it right.

Then I was done, and without an excuse to linger on my knees in front of this giant, I reluctantly stood. But that blush and that stir I'd felt made me bold.

"This may sound a bit...forward..." I started.

Bert looked a little confused. "What?"

"Would you let me measure your arms?" I could feel my own blush burning my face. "There's just so big."

Maybe it was the blush that did it, but Bert smiled again. "Um, sure I suppose...no one has ever asked me anything like that." He wasn't used to being admired, which was probably the biggest shame of all. "Okay, sure, but only if you answer a question for me after."

"No problem," I responded, smiling. I stepped onto the platform and said, "Hold up your arm, and flex your bicep."

He didn't flinch when I pushed his sleeve away from the massive hump of his muscle. I wrapped the tape measure around it and whistled at the result. "Wow." I said.

"What's the verdict, Doc?" Bart asked, looking at me from so close, I could feel his breath on my face.

"Twenty four inches. I've never seen anyone as big. Do you use a gym?"

"No, I just work a lot of hours at the plant. Want to do the other one?" Bert asked, grinning. There was a hint of something hungry to this one. It made my already aching dick even harder.

He curled his right arm up into another big muscle, and let me roll the tee shirt sleeve back from it. I had to stand in front of him to measure it and I could feel the heat of his body and his breath on my neck. He smiled as I wrapped the tape around his arm, which turned out to be half an inch bigger.

When I told him so, his grin widened. "Well, I suppose most guys use one hand more than the other." He said. Then he went on, "Now, about that question."

"What is it?"

"Are you a fag?"

I looked down at his steel toes boots and tried to clear my throat. I felt sweat drops forming on my forehead. I nodded and managed to say, "Yeah." This man could easily tear me apart and knew the answer before he asked it so I felt honesty was safer.

His big belly and chest were suddenly pushing against me. "I thought so."

I stepped down before his weight pushed me off the platform. I had to swallow a few times and lick my lips before I could say, "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious, I suppose. Don't worry; I'm not some queer- basher or anything. I've got nothing against you guys, I just like to know where I stand with a man."

"I'm relieved to hear that." I stammered. "Maybe we should get these boots back on you."

I knelt and made myself busy with them. Bert said, "Yeah, Jenny'll be getting impatient."

I took up the first boot and lifted his foot off the platform to slip into it. One of his big hands came down on top of my head and pushed down just enough for him to keep his balance. He went on, saying, "I've never met a fag that was, you know, normal like you are."

"I'd really prefer if you didn't call me a 'fag', Bert."

"Do you prefer queer?" he asked. I might have said something unpleasant back, but there was nothing sneering in his tone, just curiosity.

"How about Ronnie?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Yeah, okay. Ronnie."

"A lot of gay men can seem effeminate, so I know what you mean. We're not all like that, though. They just tend to be more noticeable, so that's what everyone thinks we're all like. Until they get to know better. Most of my friends seem just as normal as you or me."

"There are gay guys like me?" He asked, again, genuinely curious. "I thought they were all, you know, skinny, pretty, guys or drag queens."

I looked up at him. I would have laughed if he hadn't looked so earnest. And that earnest, confused look in his eyes told me more in an instant than he was probably aware of himself.

"Being gay doesn't mean you're a woman with a dick," I said. "Being gay means you're a guy who likes other guys. That's all."

"What did you mean like me, though? That there are gay guys who work in factories?"

"Well, I'd be willing to bet good money there are a few gay men and women working at the Ford plant but I meant like you physically. We call men like you Bears."

Someone started pounding on the door. "Are you done yet, Bert?"

Bert looked like a boy who'd been caught looking at his dad's Playboys. He looked back at me and said very quietly, "Uh, if I get rid of her for a while could we talk some more?"

"Of course, I'm at your service."

He looked at me with a confused, slightly guilty look on his face, then yelled, "I'll be right out, Honey."

He let me slip both of his boots back on his big feet, but bent down to tie them himself. I opened the door as he did.

"How long does it take to measure a man?" Jenny asked in tones that suggested her time was extremely valuable.

"I'm very sorry, Ma'am, but your gentleman is a very unusual fit, and I wanted to be sure that I had everything exactly right." I said as she glared from Bert to me and back again.

We went out into the store. Bert said, "You know, Honey, Ronnie here told me it would be best if I could stay here a little longer to, ah..."

"Try on a few pairs of pants so we can decide what kind of break and cuff looks best."

"Yeah, and it might take a half hour or so. Do you want to go down to that Liz Claiborne outlet? I'll come and find you."

She seemed suspicious at first, but the idea of shopping by herself brightened her right up. "Well, all right. I did take the whole day off work, and wouldn't mind using a little of the time to look for some new clothes for the cruise myself."

"Is it going to be an Alaska cruise?" I asked.

"Yes, how did you know?" She asked.

"When Bert told me the Big Day was August 15th, and you mentioned a cruise. I supposed that if it were the honeymoon, you'd be traveling right away. This is off season for tropical cruises, but the height of the Alaska season. It's very beautiful there this time of year, but it gets a little cool at night, so you might want to look for a few heavier things to bring along."

She positively beamed at me. "Why thank you, I hadn't even thought of that. You seem to know a lot about it."

"Yes, that's true," I said. "There isn't much about cruising I don't know."

"All right, you come and find me when you are all finished here." She flounced out the door.

When she was gone, I looked up at Bert and said, "Come on, Big Guy, we have to get back to the fitting room."

He seemed nervous, and asked, "Why?"

"So that we can check the break and cuff length on some pants for you. We should have already, but I was distracted."

"So, Ronnie, you, ah, like big hairy guys?" He asked as I pulled slacks off a rack.

"I am very much a fan of Bears," I admitted

"You must see a lot of them working here."

"That's true, but I've never seen one like you before, Bert."

I was as surprised to hear it coming out of my mouth as he was apparently at hearing it.

"Even though I'm...ah, not like, ah, Brad Pitt or something."

I smiled at him and this time he was the one who looked away, blushing. We got into the fitting room, and I closed and locked the door again. "You're going to need to take those boots off again, sir."

He stepped up onto the platform. "Uh, sure. Do you want to help me with them again?"

"I would very much." I replied, kneeling in front of him again. Then I said, "Look, Bert, just because a man doesn't look like a movie star doesn't mean he isn't hot. In fact I know a lot of men who prefer John Goodman to Brad Pitt."

H seemed to think about that while I took his boots off him again. This time, I lingered longer than I had before over each foot, caressing them briefly as I took off the boots, and the weight of his hand on the top of my head seemed heavier than before.

"Now the pants," I said when they were off.

He flushed the brightest shade of red I'd seen yet, and said, "I can't do that in front of you."

"It's the only way you can put these others on so I can check the cuff. I won't lie, I'm eager to see you without them. I can tell you aren't used to being admired but believe me, Bert; Jenny might not appreciate you're physical charms but trust me, I could take you somewhere they'd literally fight over the chance to show you some appreciation."

"Come on, knock it off," He said, playfully pushing my head away.

"It's true, and you still have to take your pants off. I'll help you if you like, just like I did with the boots."

He wasn't grinning now. He looked like a man about to face enemy fire, but there something I'd seen more than a few times from down on my knees as well, and I didn't mean the cock I could see hardening in his jeans.

Still on my knees, I climbed onto the platform until I was less than an inch from Bert. I took hold of his belt, unfastened it and pulled out the tongue. I saw his hands start to reach out, but they stopped and went back to stay at his sides, curled into fists. I couldn't see his face from my position directly under his belly until he shifted a little to stare down at me with those incredibly blue eyes of his and the expression I saw literally almost made me cum.

I undid his button fly, savoring each moment, going slow enough that Bert could stop me at any point. He didn't.

When the last button opened, his pants didn't slide down his legs. He was built so big they clung to him so firmly I had to pull them down myself. They peeled off his hips and slid more easily over his tree-trunk thighs and rock hard calves. He quivered when I ran my hands up and down his pale, furry legs.

He was boxer shorts so old they were almost transparent. The fly was stained pale yellow and gaped open to show a thicket of yellow hair clustered around and growing along the base of the thick shaft of his cock. His erection was pushing against the boxers and I had no trouble telling he was cut. I guessed he'd already swollen to eight inches long and I could tell he wasn't fully hard yet. The monster in his pants was going to be at least nine inches fully hard.

He put one hand on the top of my head and pressed down for balance when he lifted first one leg and then the other. he didn't take it back when I finished. I folded them up and placed them next to his boots. He stared down at me the whole time, shifting a bit now and then to keep me in view. His hands, still curled into fists, moved in close to my head. I knew where they wanted to be.

His dick flexed against the fabric. I put my hands on his ass. It felt as hard as marble but so very warm. Bert whispered, "Oh, god."

I couldn't take it anymore. I put my mouth over the flared head through the boxers and started to kiss and lick.

Like my mouth on his cock had given him permission, Bert grabbed my head and pressed it against his raging erection. His fingers felt so strong I knew I couldn't break his grip if I wanted to. He pushed my head against his groin and started to grind his hips. I sucked and chewed at his dick, soaking his shorts with his spit, until my face was as wet as his boxers. The smell from his groin was the sweetest perfume, a mix of sweat and musk, hints of piss and a liberal dose of the precum I could taste oozing through the cotton.

Bert decided that was enough preliminary work. He let go of my head long enough to pull his drawers down and leave them pooled around his ankles. His cock, a good ten inches long now, slapped my cheek and left a sticky trail across it when it sprang out.

It was as beautiful as the rest of him. The head was a thick bell shape that was flushed a deep purple. The long, thick shaft was at its widest just under the head and probably averaged six inches in diameter. His pubes were a blond jungle and his dick stood straight out from them like a tree standing among shrubs. His robin egg sized balls hung long and low.

Bert grabbed my head and pushed it against his groin. I like to take my time and with a dick this exquisite I would have taken the time to get it good and slick with my tongue before I tried taking it down my throat. Bert was more than ready to get it in my mouth and I was powerless to resist him. He poked at my face until I got my mouth open, then he stabbed himself down my throat.

It tasted better than I'd hoped; salty with sweat, sweet and tangy with precum. He held my face rigidly in place as he started to fuck my mouth with slow, powerful strokes.

I couldn't ignore my own dick any longer. As Bert stared down into my eyes and fucked my face I desperately tore open my own pants and fished out my own modest six incher. I don't normally drip precum the way Bert seemed to, but I'd been rock hard for half an hour now, giving it plenty of time to leak and trickle. I was already so close to shooting I didn't dare jerk myself so I just wrapped my hand around my old friend and gave him an encouraging squeeze in time to Bert's ruthless thrusts.

Bert's tool was so long and so wide, I'd probably have choked on it if I'd been a less accomplished cocksucker and I wasn't going to let a little thing like a gag reflex get between this man and the blowjob he deserved. I had to concentrate totally on his dick and giving it the most pleasure I could. He built up speed slowly, and after a few minutes started to whisper to me, saying things like, "Oh, god. Oh Jesus. Oh, fuck." And finally, "Oh, Ronnie."

When that man said my name as he stared down, as he slid his huge, powerful cock in and out of my throat, I came. I couldn't help it. I came so hard that it felt like an explosion, and I lost track of everything but those spotlight-bright blue eyes.

It must have done something to him to, because as I shuddered and whimpered and splattered his feet with my cum, his grip on my head grew painful. He shoved his cock all the way down and choked me with it. I hardly noticed the lack of air, just the way his cock throbbed and pulsed as he poured what felt like about a gallon of hot cum down my gullet. He bellowed as he came, so loud I was afraid one of the neighboring stores would hear us. I felt at least four powerful bursts go down my throat before he pulled back, still in my mouth, still drooling cum across my tongue. I had never tasted anything better in my entire life.

But he didn't pull out, and the way his dick throbbed, I didn't think he was done yet. Sure enough after just a few seconds of panting, he started again. This time there was nothing gentle about Bert. He grabbed my head between his hands and turned it up so I couldn't look away from his eyes and he fucked my throat so hard and so fast I had to struggle to get even a bit of air.

I didn't mind at all. In fact my own cock surprised me by coming back to life in my hand. I pounded myself just as hard and fast as Bert pounded my face.

His balls slapped against my chin hard enough to make my eyes water, but I didn't care. I loved it and I loved the way his own eyes were watering as he did it. He slammed himself against my face for more than five minutes.

Suddenly, he shoved me away and I fell off the platform, sprawling on my back, his saliva and cum covering my face.

Bert's mouth was open. He closed his eyes and stroked himself fast and hard. His head tipped back and he came again, roaring at the ceiling. His cum was like a hot rain, falling on me in spurts. Whether it was by aim or luck, most of it splattered against my face and in my hair. The first three spurts shot over my head. I heard them splatter against the door. The fifth and sixth spurts, each as large as a normal load, fell on my shirt, chest and stomach.

Then he staggered off the platform and fell on top of me. I had no time to move and probably couldn't have anyway. But I was perfectly safe with Bert. He knew his big body could be an accidental threat too easily and even at that moment was careful. His knees came down on either side of my chest and his still throbbing cock ended up just above my face.

I blew my second load looking at him. The sight if his dick, still dripping cum and covered in my slobber with his ice blue eyes still staring down at me wracked my body and a big load oozed out of my cock and down over my hand and pants.

He panted, his dick bobbing in the rhythm as it got softer, until it rested on my face. His balls were nestled close to my mouth, so I licked and sucked at them just a little.

Finally, he relaxed and sat on my chest. "Fuck. I've never had any sex that good, much less a blow job that good."

Now his heaving belly and ample dick blocked my view of his face but I didn't have much to say anyway.

"No girl has even given me a blow job like that. When I can even talk them into putting it in their mouth, they never sucked more than the head, and every thirty seconds or so, they're all like 'is that enough'. Man, I never even knew it could be like that."

I squirmed a little under him, and he shifted off me apologetically. I was panting at least as hard as he was. "I was finally able to say. "It's always better when the cocksucker likes it. Besides, no woman understands dick like a man."

He sat back against the platform, looking at me funny. Now, I've blown my share of straight guys. He wasn't even the first I'd done in the fitting room. Invariably in those cases they would have already been dressed and out the door. But Bert just sat there looking at me strangely, and for some reason, I found it hard to find the words to say anything more.

Finally, he stood pulled his boxers up. "I suppose we'd better get the pants measured, like you said. Jenny will be looking for me before too long, and I don't want to piss her off." All of the joy had drained out of his voice, and he sounded like a man facing a life sentence.

Even with what I now knew to be true in my heart, I almost didn't say what I said next, "Are you sure you want to marry her?"

"What do you mean? Of course I do. I have to."

"Look, Bert," I said, "I'm not sure how to say this, but just because you let me suck your dick doesn't mean you're gay. I've blown a few straight guys and if that's all this has been, I'm still going to be grateful to you forever for letting me do it. But, are you really sure you want to marry her?"

He hesitated for a long moment. I went on before he found any words. "I'm only saying this because I've seen a lot of guys who got married, thinking it was what they had to do, but who were just trying to hide what they were from themselves. In some cases, they can pull it off, for the most part. They have long marriages, but they aren't really happy and neither are their wives. Sometimes they go looking for guys like me, but when he's done, he goes home and pretends he never let some faggot touch him. Until the next time his dick gets hard and the idea of sex with his wife doesn't appeal to him. Sometimes they decide they can't live that way, and they have to break up with their wives. Sometimes that only happens after they have kids and its never easy for a gay dad in a custody battle.

"Maybe that's not how it is with you. Maybe you just needed a blow job like no one else I've ever met. That's fine, if that's how it is. I don't know you, I don't know Jenny. But you should really think about it.

"If there is any chance that it's true, you should call off the wedding before it's too late. It'll be bad, but it'll be worse if it ends up in court later."

Bert was blushing again, and not looking at me. After a few long moments, he said, "Let's get these pants out of the way. I've got to work tonight and need to get going."

Something about the way he said it told me to let it drop, so I did. He tried on a pair of slacks that were too large, and then we found the right size, and I marked the hemline on them. He got dressed, refusing my offer for help with the pants or boots this time, and we went out into the store a few moments later.

"Can I take care of paying for it now?" He asked when we were out there.

"Of course," I replied. "I meant what I said about a discount. I will be more than happy to offer you and your groomsmen a discount on the items they buy."

The look on his face told me he wasn't sure he wanted to send anyone he knew to my store because of what had just happened between us. So I said in my most professional voice, "I assure you, sir that I am a professional and will act accordingly towards anyone whom you refer to me."

"Yeah, okay. I'll tell those four guys about it tonight at work."

"Do you want to schedule a return trip for a final fitting for the suit after the alterations are finished? If you like, I can set it up so that one of my associates will help you, if you would prefer not to deal with me personally again."

"No, that's okay," he said, a ghost of a grin on his slightly sweaty face. "I think I'll come by this time next week, and we'll see what happens from there."

My heart was suddenly pounding in my chest like I'd just run a mile. I had to lick my lips and swallow before I could answer, and that flooded my mouth with his flavor. "Of course, sir, I'd be honored to be of service to you in any way you like."

I moved behind the counter, by the cash register, and he handed me a credit card. The name on it read, "Berthold Selchow."

"Berthold?" I asked.

"Yeah, my family is pure German, and is very proud of it." He said with a self-disparaging grin.

"I was thinking you were Scandinavian," I said.

"Nope, German."

I smiled back at him and rang up the sale, then handed him back the card and receipt when we had finished.

I walked him to the door. "I'll see you this time next week then," I said as he turned to go.

"Yeah, you'll see me then." He opened the door and stepped out into the bright sunshine of the late May afternoon. He turned back and said, "I'll think hard about what you said, because I can see you're point."

Then he was gone.

When he came back a week later to pick up the suit, he was alone. We had a long talk, mostly about what being gay was really all about, and he told me that he had postponed the wedding. A month after that, I ran into him at the local Bear group's monthly bar event. He looked nervous and confused, especially by the crowd of admirers he'd already drawn. After I'd fought my way through them, I told him how glad I was to see him make it, and told him that I'd be glad to show him around.

He'd smiled shyly, and said, "Well, that's fine, but I really came hoping to see you, Ronnie."

We went home together that night. He hasn't left yet. Now I'm starting to think I'm going to have to tell him what happened when his brother Rudy stopped by the store.

The Evil Cub/BigandTall/4