from Studs BBS
(415) 495 - 2929
MEASURING UP
By Rick Smart
I was never sure what people meant when they said, "He wears clothes well." I mean, how much effort can you put into wearing clothes? You have a good body, you look good in clothes; you have a lousy body, you don't. I used to think, isn't it as simple as that?
I guess my thinking that way was kind of ironic, because I worked in the men's shop of a department store. Expensive, trendy, impeccably stylish, we had it all and men would come from miles around to scan our racks. All day long men would ask me, "How do you think this looks on me?" and "Do I wear this well?" I usually smile and nod yes.
Until I saw Grant. I didn't know his name then, but the second he stepped foot in my department, I suddenly knew exactly what they meant by "wearing clothes well." Because Grant wasn't just "wearing' his clothes; he had become them. The auburn in his sweater caught the reddish-gold tint in his hair, its flecks of green made piercing emeralds out of his eyes. The loose-fit of his trousers hung perfectly from his waist, making his legs look like well-muscled pillars.
Anyone who looked that good in clothes had to look even better out of them!
Brad, my co-worker, had seen Grant, too, and was already closing in for the kill. To make matters worse, Julie, our other coworker, was also circling him.
Then I heard Brad ask, "Can I help you with something, sir?"
"No," Grant replied. "Just looking right now." He barely glanced at Brad and didn't even look at Julie. This was a good sign, plus he was moving in my direction!
Before long, he was exploring a rack of dress pants not five feet away. And, before I knew it, he glanced over at me and said, "I was wondering, could you help me find something?"
"Certainly, sir," I said. "My name's Rick."
"I'm Grant," he said, and the firmness of his handshake made my cock start to harden.
The golden lights in his hair and his sculptured features held me entranced while he explained his problem. "I'm only in town for a few days," he said, "and I didn't bring any formal clothes with me.
I need something for a formal affair tonight. Can you help me?"
"Certainly, Grant," I said. "Since we have a tailor onpremises, we can rush a job through in a few hours. But " I hesitated, hoping my luck would hold. " I'll have to take a few measurements.'
He flashed me pearl-white teeth. "That's fantastic. And measurements aren't any problem at all."
Then, while Grant peeled off his sweater, I fumbled for my tape measure and threw Brad and Julie the widest victory grin I could. W~hen I looked back, Grant stood with his arms outspread, wearing an oversized shirt of some darkly flecked material.
"Uh," I said, "I'll measure your chest first."
I'd measured a lot of men -- and had felt the chests of plenty of others -- but none had felt so firm, with pecs so well-defined or nipples so hard.
"Could you spread your legs, please?" I said at last, and hoped that someday I'd be asking him that same question under different circumstances.
Grant complied. Then, starting at the floor, I ran the tape measure up his inseam, past his firm, bulging calf, up over his thick, muscular thigh, stopping at the juncture of his groin.
"Sorry," I said, pushing my fingers into the softness of his ball sac. Grant just laughed. Meanwhile I readjusted the tape measure, acting as if something in the reading was wrong. I wanted another excuse to feel his loose testicles. It was obvious that he was only wearing very loose fitting boxer shorts -- or perhaps no underwear at all!
At last I could stall no longer. I stood up, and Grant asked if he could try on a particular suit that had caught his eye. I just nodded and let him go, But the best was yet to come. Since the store had experienced some problems with shoplifters in the dressing rooms, it had installed two-way mirrors in all the rooms and issued strict instructions that we secretly watch all the men dress and undress. I got behind the mirror just as Grant dropped his pants -- and was disappointed to see he was wearing boxer shorts. Shorts or no shorts, though, I could still see his muscular legs and a fine layer of amber fur that covered them. There were thick walls between Grant and myself, and I was just about to pull out my dick and give it some attention when Brad arrived.
I glared at him! "What the hell are you doing here?" I whispered.
"Who's working the floor?"
Brad pulled up a chair next to mine. "Julie. This was one stud I didn't want to miss."
"Get lost," I said. "He's mine."
"You get lost! It's my break."
I stood up. We couldn't both watch him.
Then I remembered Grant's sweater.
I knocked on the door to Grant's dressing room. "It's me, Rick. You forgot your sweater."
The door swung open and Grant smiled at me. "How do I look in this?"
I stepped inside. "Fantastic!" It was true. Even without alterations, the suit looked tailored on Grant.
I moved closer to him. "Let me just put a few pins in ..."
Grant interrupted me. "Why don't you measure my inseam again."
I froze. "What?"
"Do you have your tape measure?"
"Well, yes."
"Measure my inseam again."
I was on my knees in front of him in a flash. But this time, when I pushed my hand up into his groin, his nuts weren't loose and dangling. They were as hard as the rest of him.
I looked up. Grant smiled. "I don't know," he said. "The pants feel a little tight in the crotch."
I glanced at the mirror, knowing full well that Brad was still behind it, watching us. For some reason, the thought of him sitting there watching us -- probably with his pecker in hand -- kind of turned me on.
"I think I can help you," I said to Grant.
I popped the button on his pants, then gently eased the zipper down. Immediately, the loose pants fell around his feet. Meanwhile, he yanked his shirt off and stood before me clad only in his boxer shorts.
The tape measure hadn't lied, and neither had his clothes; Grant's arms and torso were perfect. Broad, rounded shoulders. Mound-like pecs frosted with thick amber fur and capped with volcano-tipped nipples. Just above my face his rippled stomach lured me for a closer inspection. There was a huge bulge in his boxer shorts.
"I think I've found the problem," I said.
Grant eased down his underwear to reveal a thick submarine of hard cockflesh. The tip was fat and round, the shaft thick. His bush of pubic hair glistening gold in the bright fluorescent overhead light.
Finally, the entire length of his cock engorged to capacity, lifted straight up from the tight confines of his scrotum. His massive erection hung unmoving momentarily, then jerked as it got even bigger!
I opened my mouth and sucked the whole of this magnificent creature -- ridges, mounds and soft velvet flesh -- all the way down my throat. I heard a distant gasp and knew it had come from Brad.
But Brad wasn't here, and I was. I couldn't stop feeding on that big corndog. Playing with it in my mouth, and loving the faintly salty flavor.
Grant brought me back to reality. "Aren't you going to measure me?" he said. "So far you've only gone one inch!"
I grabbed his ass and pulled his boner deeper into my mouth. "Two inches," Grant said, hands on my head, slowing the plunge.
I used my lips to vacuum his cock deeper into my mouth. "That's three inches," Grant panted. "And four!"
I stretched my lips, pulling him deeper still. "Five," Grant moaned.
Enough of this, I thought, and rammed my face onto his cock. Grant's hands left my head and his stick slid deep down my relaxed throat.
Seven, eight, nine -- ten inches! I thought to myself with satisfaction. Grant laughed.
Then I let my tongue go to work, scrubbing and cleaning. After all, good grooming is essential to looking good. And as I started to face-fuck him, Grant responded with a slight thrusting of his hips. Soon after, I was rewarded with a sudden flow of salty pre-cum juice from his peehole.
Grant fell back against the wall of the dressing room, his legs wide spread. It was time for another inseam measurement -- a more intimate one -- and I pushed my hand between his legs, pressing the warmth of his testicles against my body. I worked my fingers back, looking for the sweaty reward of his deep ass crack. His butt cheeks clenched over my hand, but not to keep me out. Grant was just trying to relax his spincter muscle for my finger's impending entry. Finally, my finger entered the hot, tight ring of his anus.
The tightness of his moist hole around my fingers -- first two, then three -- was too tempting. I pulled my fingers out, turned him around, and pushed my face into his ass cleavage. Grant trembled when the tip of my tongue probed the entrance to his butt hole and spasms of excitement rippled across his flexing back.
Buried between the furry mounds of his ass, I glanced at the mirror -- and Brad behind it. I slipped my tongue from Grant's pleasure spot only long enough to give my co-worker another victory smile and held Grant's ass open wide to give Brad a quick peek at what he was missing. Then my tongue slid back between Grant's cheeks to burrow for hidden treasure. I knew Brad was either furiously pumping his dick, or turning green with envy. I even imagined I could see the mirror shaking.
"Lick me deeper!" Grant moaned, bending over to grab his knees. I did, licking back and forth between the tight hole of his ass crack and the ripe fruit of his balls. My tongue plunged to incredible new depths within him.
I stood up eventually, and we kissed. Firm arms held me tight while his hot tongue explored my mouth. He took my clothes off and they joined the jumble already on the floor. At first, I wasn't sure if I wanted Brad to see me completely naked, even though I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of. Yet next to him, few men could measure up physically.
"Fuck me," Grant whispered in my ear. "Fuck me while my ass is good and wet.' He turned and faced the dressing room wall again and pushed his ass against my stiff cock.
Almost immediately, the head of my prick found the entrance to his ass. I gripped my cock firmly and pressed for an opening in the tight circle of his anus.
It didn't take long; his asshole opened and it was slick and deep.
My cock probed deeper than my tongue had. Soon my balls were pressed up against the cheeks of his ass and I started to gently butt-fuck him.
Grant wanted it bad and he started to thrust his hips wildly. As a result, we lost our balance, almost falling on the floor.
I knew there was a chair next to us and I managed to land on it with me sitting and Grant astride me. I also knew Brad had seen the whole thing -- was probably laughing at us -- but he didn't have his cock up Grant's butt!
Having landed on the chair while still wedged deep inside Grant's ass put us in one of my favorite positions. He turned around to face me, legs straddling my thighs. Grant took control and lifted his ass over my cock, lowering himself until my dick was buried inside the endless tunnel of his butt. His hungry lips found mine and our tongues joined the orgy!
We fucked hard, Grant using his powerful legs to bounce up and down on my shaft until, all too soon, he came. His cock shot jizz like a broken spigot -- and I knew Brad was getting the show of his life.
Grant's orgasm caused his ass to spasm on my cock. I couldn't hold back any longer, and let my dick shoot milky cum deep inside him.
Grant gave me the biggest kiss I'd ever had, then said he had to go get ready for the evening. I promised to have his suit ready within the hour.
When I got back out on the floor a few minutes later, Brad gave me a funny look.
"Not bad, huh?" I gloated.
"Yeah!" he said. "I just wish he'd taken off his shorts.
"I looked at him oddly. "What?"
"Well, I watched a little longer, but he never took his boxers off.
Then my break was over, so I came back out here."
"But if you've been out here, who ... ?"
I turned and saw Julie slip out of the backroom. She looked at me, turned red, then -- without a word -- ran back into the room.