Catalog of Men

"Catalog of Men" by Jay Roberts Gay Sci Fi/Fantasy

If you are under 18 you are asked to leave.

Over 18 and possessing liberal attitudes, stay.

George Adams here. No from the famous Adams; not infamous either. Me George who should be enjoying love with a nice guy wouldn't you think? I was thirty years old today. A milestone; or a millstone? I'm celebrating it in an upscale bar off 5th Avenue.

My reflection from the large mirror, partially blocked by whiskey bottles, looks good to me. How come not to others this year? Yeah, I look 25 or less. I'm lean, with good features. My excellent brown wavy hair sweeps back emphasizing my sexy widow's peak. I think I am eminently desirable. Am I a majority of one?

Just then, a short, older guy, dressed ridiculously in unmatched plaid pants and jacket, his checked shirt boasting a large yellow bow tie. He was old, but spy, a relic of a dandy. This paragon of bad clothes was speaking to me, breaking into my reverie. In his slight British accent he was saying, "Such an attractive guy like you ought not to be alone on a Saturday night."

I gave him one of my patented withering glances, buy it seemed to bounce right off him. I wanted to be sure that this museum piece did not harbor the idea of hitting on me. I realized that he was handing me a business card. It read: "Men's Catalog, come to our showroom any hour and make your selection. We guarantee that you will be pleased."

"What is this?" I asked, "A all night men's clothing store."

He giggled. The sound was distinctly unpleasant coming from a man of his age, what? Seventy? "You misread, not men's clothing, men."

I stared at him perplexed. "You sell men? Is this a male hooker service? I don't pay for sex. If I ever came to that, I would take poison."

He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "I can't say that you would not be paying for sex, and paying a lot. We make a one-time charge of $20,000, I know you can afford that, with a portfolio of almost two million."

He was correct. With my inheritance and clever investing, it was actually a good guess. "How do you know my worth?"

"Before we contact a new client, we do our investigating." He started to rise, I must go now, but you have the address. It's within walking distance of this bar. Why don't you pay us a visit?"

I started to explain why I would not pursue this outlandish idea, but he had slithered away as I downed my drink. I was about to order another one, when the thought came to me that I would keep drinking, then stagger home and be hung over the next day, Sunday, the worst day for a hangover. I took the card from the wet bar top, reread the address and headed out into the chilly night air. Each step I took made me seem more and more stupid for chasing this insane offer from a nutty messenger.

The address turned out to be an office building, dark at this hour, but there was a uniformed guard at a desk in the lobby. I tapped on the glass door with a coin. He looked up. It was obvious he had been sleeping. I guessed they don't get many callers at this hour. He let me in. "Men's Catalog? Penthouse floor."

The elevator stopped abruptly, the door slowly opened and there was a sumptuous outer room of marble. In niches, in a semi circle were alabaster statues of naked men. I tell you, no maple leaves covering their essentials. These guys were hung! I was more convinced than ever that I had stumbled on a male whorehouse. My thoughts were interrupted by my contact person from the bar, but this time he was dressed somberly in a black suit and tie, and white shirt, somewhat like a funeral director.

"You changed clothes? I said, stupidly.

"No, I always dress this way. You must have met my twin brother Amos. He does overdue like a peacock." He paused a moment. "Peacock, cock. Are you here for cock?"

"I am not sure why I am here, suppose you give me a tour."

"Yes, good idea." Snapped his fingers and the door behind him slide open. Inside was a rotunda. There must have been twenty showcases arranged against the curving walls. Each showcase was brightly lit and housed a naked man, who appeared to be asleep.

"What is this? Are they drugged? It's creepy, like a Madam Tussard exhibit.

"Walk with me. Examine our goods. Here is a new fellow. Handsome, don't you think? A ballet dancer. Exquisite."

I found myself breathing heavily. These were indeed attractive bodies. There seemed to be examples of all ages, types, colors and...cock shape and size.

I stopped in front of one case. I peered at the small plastic card. "Tony, a street punk, but sweet natured."

I walked slowly around this Guggenheim of male beauty and ended up at the open door leading to Amos's office. He led me inside and beckoned me to a leather chair. "I see you began to get all hot and bothered whilst gazing at young Tony. Yes, he is really a hunk. He came to us very recently. I could have guessed that he would be your choice."

"So what's next? Do you deliver the mannequin to my apartment and then I have abnormal relations with it?"

He drew himself up to his full five feet five inches. "He's no 'it'. But he will deliver himself to your apartment, er, after we make arrangements."

Well the arrangement was a check for $20,000. I know I was crazy to go along with this but I was so bored.

As I waited for the elevator, Amos at my side, it suddenly occurred to me to ask, "What if the arrangement, the choice doesn't work out?"

He looked at me askance, "It will work out, and it always does. But we do not have any 'return' policy. This isn't a department store. If in the unlikely event you are not satisfied, naturally we do not return the fee. And, should you attempt to reject your choice, it could have dire consequences." I put this florid speech as just a way of keeping me from bothering them later. But it came to be very prescient.

I went home, undressed, fell on my bed and was asleep in seconds. I heard the intercom buzzing. It was the concierge. "There is a Mr. Tony here to see you. Shall I let him up? It's only six AM."

My whole body shaking I put on a robe and started the coffee making going. The doorbell rang. I opened it. There was the statue, or whatever it was, come to glowing life. "Hi George. Thanks for picking me. I was anxious to get out of that glass cage and get some action."

Of course I had seen him naked. He was outstanding, pure, smooth, hairless white skin, muscles on his arms, chest and belly. His legs were strong. Oh yeah, that thing. It was lying fat and sassy against the dimple on the top of his hanging balls. His face also made my blood race. He had silky black hair. His thick bangs hung over, almost to his bold eyebrows, emphasizing his warm brown eyes. I was drawn to his nose and mouth. His nose was a bold Roman one and his mouth was succulent, full and pink.

I spoke to him for the first time. "Coffee?"

"I guess, I am not sure of my preferences. I have been told, somehow, what kind of a guy I am, but there is another me, deep down that shows itself."

"I am not sure of what you mean. Were you programmed?"

"Something like that. I know I am hot for you. I know that I was born in Brooklyn nineteen years ago, but I hear my speech, it doesn't sound that way. Then I am conscious of another language, maybe Polish. It is very confusing." He came over close to me and slipped his hand inside my loose robe and felt for my nipple. "I know if we have sex, that everything will be better."

I was slipping into automatic. I leaned forward and kissed him. I almost jumped back, his lips were so hot and they seemed to grip mine possessively. His muscular tongue slipped into my mouth and the two of us fell into that kiss that seemed to last forever, leaving us panting with helpless passion.

"Whew," he said, grinning. "You are some hot son of a bitch. Can I suck your cock?"

I tightened my robe around me. "Let's have breakfast, then we'll improvise."

The poor kid was hungry. "Why not," he said, "I haven't eaten in weeks, but then, I was in a sort of suspended animation."

Just watching him eat, was getting my cock up and shaking. I felt like I was facing sex for the first time. I was anxious to continue what we started, but part of me was scared because he produced such an overwhelming effect on me.

We gulped the last of the coffee, I put the plates in the sink and when I turned, his clothes were laying in a heap on the floor. Incidentally, he had arrived in unspectacular clothes, black jeans, black tee shirt and gray sneakers, no socks. I suppose this was to continue his street image persona.

I looked down at his feet. I am not into feet, but his were so sexy! Though he was less than six feet, his feet were big, maybe size sixteen. The skin was soft and smooth and the toes were long and fat. His big toe had as much sex appeal as most guys cocks. The nails were neatly trimmed. I wondered if they gave him a beauty treatment. Later I found out that the men were washed and shaved every day. Deodorant was applied, manicures and haircuts administered. He said that they were alive, but sort of held immobile.

They boy was a natural lover. Not only his kisses, but his big, broad, smooth hands brought such delight when he stroked and touched me. He seemed innately to find my sensitive spots, the backs of my knees, my pits, and my belly. And his tongue, long and red licked hotly until I was in danger of passing out from hyperventilation.

Foreplay, given and received with Tony was a hundred times more pleasurable that sex with others. He seemed to like to get me so sexed up, so hot, that I was dizzy with passion. It appeared to be more important to him to pleasure me than to receive pleasure. He was aggressive about pushing me toward the edge of control until I helplessly fell off the edge of the world into a crashing orgasm that left me whimpering in helplessness. He's laugh boyishly to see me so drunk with his lovemaking.

For instance, that first time, he got down on his knees and held my rigid cock in his hand and began delivering long, strong licks along the shaft, over and over again until I could not stand up, my knees gave may. He followed me, swallowed the whole cock and suckled it wildly. I had never been the recipient of such an aggressive blowjob. He was like a man possessed.

When I finally could almost stand it no longer, he intensified the coming orgasm by holding on to my balls and swinging them back and forth in a maddening rhythm. I screamed hoarsely and began a series of heavy cums, over and over until I nearly blacked out. When I came to, seconds later, I looked down at him. He had tears in his eyes. "It was a joy for me to make you happy," he said. I looked down, he had shot a large pool of spooge between his knees. He looked down also and smiled. "I came when you did. It was such a turn on."

We rested awhile, drank a second coffee. "You know, George my love, I think this is the first time I have ever had sex with a man. I don't know why I know that, but I think it is true."

"I hope it didn't disgust you."

"Are you kidding? Remember I came with you."

Later we got into bed and slept a bit. Holding this boy in my arms was almost as much as having sex. He was so smooth and his skin was so fragrant. I found myself kissing his smooth muscular back. He murmured in satisfied sleepiness as I did it, but my cock was awakening from the feel of my lips on his warm skin, and the smell was intoxicating. Soon my hand crept around and began to stimulate his plump, long cock. It awoke quickly and his breathing began to deepen.

He was a boy of action. He whirled himself around so that his avid mouth was back on my cock. His own organ knocked on my lips for entry. In a moment the two of us were transfixed in an orchestrated dance of ever intensifying passion. I could feel his lips sucking harder and his thighs beginning to make fucking motions and his wet breath bathing my cock with his spit. I grabbed his balls that were beginning to thicken and move upward toward the base of his cock. It was easy, in that position, for me to lick them. But as I felt him begin a moaning of impending release, and I myself felt my body stiffening, I returned to his cock. It was leaking honey copiously but when his actual release came, I was flooded with the sweetest tasting cum I had ever encountered. I allowed myself to slide fast into my own machine gun rapid firing of sperm.

We too drank each other's essence as if it were fine wine, continuing until neither organ had anything to emit and had settled down to softening rest.

After about a hour of dreamless sleep, I woke Tony. "Hey, I'm going to be a sugar daddy. How about coming with me for a new wardrobe?"

He laughed out loud. "Hey, I don't mind being spoiled. Somewhere in my other life, I think a woman bought stuff for me. Maybe it was my Mom. It's all dim."

We went to several of those specialty men's stores along Madison Avenue. I want to tell you, he created a sensation among the gay salesmen. Several times he had to demur allowing them into the try on booths. We left with him wearing one of the new outfits. He had on shorts, a polo shirt and slides-perfect, but in the bags were jackets and pants and dress shirts, plus some Italian shoes.

Next we went to a fine restaurant, it was the Four Seasons. Tony looked perplexed when we entered. The matre'd looked at him familiarly, but said nothing. When we were seated, Tony said, "It's strange, but I think I've been here before. I almost know what's on the menu. I'm going to have sliced filet."

The waiter, a young guy ignored me and kept looking Tony in his brown eyes and acting as though I wasn't there. Tony found it amusing, but he had no ego problems.

After dinner, we walked back to my apartment. While walking Tony said that he wanted to really satisfy me. "I am glad to play the girl's part with you, if you would like it."

Of course I was salivating over the prospect. We shucked our clothes and went into the bedroom. He lay on the bed and lifted his smooth, white, muscular legs. What a sight! "You sure babe?"

"Yeah," he grunted, and lifted his legs higher.

I could see his hairless, pink puckered hole pulsing. I wasn't sure if he was caught in heavy desire, or he was fearful. I decided that I would have to bring him further before I do the act. I leaned down and stuck my tongue into his hot hole. He grunted louder. With my long tongue I searched for his hot button. Ah, there it was. I racked my tongue back and forth over it and he cock began to leak heavy pre cum. Figuring that he was ready, I put my cock just inside his hole. He closed up twice, but finally I pushed it in. He was breathing like he had run a race. I wasn't sure if he was deep in passion or fear.

"George, push in, do it, don't wait."

That was all I needed-permission. Perhaps I was a bit rash, but I pushed in deep and fast. He let out a surprised howl but then settled down. He was so adorable during my fucking. His face was screwed up like a little boy about to cry. At first I was worried, but he took hold of his own cock and began shagging himself. That was a good sign.

"Should I fuck hard?" I asked.

"Do it!" he ordered.

I fucked that beautiful kid as hard as I could. He mewled and sobbed and cried out gibberish. It was the hottest fuck I had ever had. "I'm cumming." I called.

"Me too," he hoarsely shouted.

I came so hard I was too dizzy afterward to even take it out. I felt against him, my cock deep in him. His heavy spooging lay on his pretty belly, and I was lying in it.

Finally I got the strength to disengage.

That night we slept with our arms around each other, breathing into each other's faces. It was heaven.

In the morning I was alone in the bed. "Tony, Tony," I called. No answer. Then I found a note on the bedside table, the note sat on the neatly folded clothes I had bought.

"Dear George, I love you and I love sex with you but I can't continue. I now remember my former life. I was straight. The fucking made me feel like a girl and I can't do it anymore."

I dressed, made a hasty breakfast and headed down to the "Men's Catalog".

I was greeted by the flashy brother. His name was Aaron. "Mr. Aaron, my lover boy, my catalog choice has vanished. I'm not asking for a replacement. Under the circumstances I should get my money back."

Aaron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I tell you what Mr. George Adams, why don't you wait in this little room and I will discuss the matter with my brother Amos."

I went into the room and sat down. There was an odd smell developing here. I heard a soft hissing sound. I became alarmed and tried to leave. The door was locked and bolted. The gas gradually over came me and I slumped to the floor.

The next thing I remember is standing naked in a glass case. There were two gentlemen looking at me with lust in their eyes. I heard the little man in the garish clothes saying, "He is only 25 years old. He was born in Sweden. You can see his excellent muscle development. His name is Sven. He loves to be fucked."

That didn't sound right, but yet I knew it matched what I thought I was. This is quite confusing.

From where I was placed, I could see another glass case. A young man was standing in it. He had a beautiful white body. He looked familiar.

End