The Barter

	      There was only one customer in the store - a short,
potbellied man fondling a pair of camel-hair bedroom slippers - when I
glanced through the display window and saw Randall's silver Pontiac
Firebird cruising across the crowded shopping mall.  Weak-kneed, I watched
him park the car in front of the shop and sit there calmly, his wavy black
hair fashionably disarrayed, his sunglasses mysteriously hiding his eyes. 
After the shoe browser left without making a purchase, Randall eased his
rugged frame out of the sports car and stepped up onto the sidewalk.  His
moves were athletic and confident.  His body was all bronzed meat, and
hard muscle in a bleach white t-shirt and tight dark jeans with the pant
legs tucked into the tops of jet-black motorcycle boots I had sold him a
few weeks ago.  A trail of masculine cologne wafter the air as he strode
past me, entering the store.
	"Right on time," I said, locking the door and putting up the Out
to Lunch sign.
	He turned and smiled, flashing strong white teeth.  "Something
wrong with that?" he asked.
	"Oh no," I said.  "Not at all.  It's, uh...well, it's just that I
-"
	"Hey," he said, his grey eyes twinkling.  "Business is business. 
And a deal is a deal."  He turned and sauntered off toward the backroom,
his shoulder muscles rippling under the form-fitting t-shirt, his ass
tightly molded inside his jeans.  I followed him down a narrow aisle until
he stopped and pulled the t-shirt over his head.  I stared at the
smoothness of his back as he laid the shirt on an empty shelf.  When he
turned toward me, he did it artistically, slowly revealing a solid chest
lightly coated with curly black hair.
	"You look great," I said, stepping forward, putting a hand on his
waist.
	He stared down at me.  "You always say that."
	I slid both hands up to his shoulders.  His body was a chunk of
raw energy, feeding excitement to my pounding heart..  "it's always true,"
I said.
	His lips clamped down on mine  His tongue leaped into my mouth. 
His hand gripped the back of my neck and mashed our lips together.  When
the kiss was broken, I had to cling to him for support.  I could feel my
body trembling against his.  I rested my forehead on his chest.
	"Great looking boots," I said, trailing the fingers of my right
hand down to his belt buckle.
	He laughed.  "You always say that, too."
	I unbuckled his belt.  "Hmmm, I know.  Imported leather, steel
toes, designer styled.  Real class, like you."
	He twined his fingers in my hair.  I dropped to my knees and began
struggling his jeans down his legs.  When he was standing in front of me
wearing nothing but white Jockey shorts and the black motorcycle boots, I
looked up at the hefty bulge growing inside the underwear.  A small wet
spot was at the center of his crotch.  My lips went for it.
	"Well, well," Randall said.  "I see we're using the direct
approach today."
	My hands massaged the cotton material covering his ass.  My tongue
rasped dryly over his leg.  "I have to," I said, rubbing my nose along his
thick cock, "you've got me on a time limit."
	He stuck his left hand inside his underwear and groped his balls. 
The movement lengthened his cock considerably.  "I thought that was your
idea?" he said.
	Instead of answering I pressed my nose against the pubic hair at
the edge of his shorts and kissed my way down his firm, fuzzy thigh to the
tantalizing granite flesh above his right knee.  Then I was fondling his
right boot, licking the musky leather and trailing my tongue along the
silver zipper until my lips were at his feet, raining kisses on each
square toe while my fingers stroked the reinforced thickness around his
heels and ankles.
	Seconds later I was working my way up his left boot, caressing and
nuzzling the durable leather, inhaling deeply as my face slid over the
expensive material.  At the top of the boot I stopped and looked up. 
Muscles rippled along his hardened thighs.  The wet spot on his shorts was
larger.
	"Ahhh, you've been expecting me," I said, and kissed the pulsing
lump.
	I palmed his ass and pressed my cheek into his crotch  His cock
throbbed warmly against my face.  I pulled his underwear down to his knees
and swallowed his swollen cock.  He came immediately his left hand cupping
his balls while he squirted hot liquid in my mouth.  My fingers ravaged
his ass, squeezing and probing the taut flesh.  His thighs quivered
against my chest as he bucked and jerked, and pleasured himself.  When at
last I pulled away from his slippery pole, it hung wetly in front of me,
long, thick, and limber.
	"What time is it?" I asked.
	Randall checked the Rolex on his left wrist.  "Twelve-thirteen,"
he said.
	"Maybe we can do it three times today."
	He shook his head.  "We never have."
	"Well, if you'd stay an extra minute or two, we might be able to
get - "
	He squatted down in front of me.  His cock dangled erotically
between his powerful thighs.  I put my hand on the gnarled Jockey shorts,
bunched just above his knees.  His fingers touched my sweaty cheek.
	"Why do we keep going through this?" he asked, sliding his hand
down to my shoulder.  "I love this arrangement.  I'm delighted you
suggested it. But it's strictly business, guy.  Strictly business."
	"It doesn't have to be," I said.
	He stood up and looked at his watch.  "Yes it does.  And you've
got thirty-six minutes left."
	I stared up at his swaying cock, still immensely sizeable although
it wasn't hard.  As my lips reached forward to touch it, Randall smiled,
and turned around.  My mouth and nose slid between the cheeks of his ass. 
My tongue jabbed at his hole.  He stiffened momentarily, then relaxed. 
Seconds later he was bending over with his hands on his knees whole I
gripped the material between his legs and slobbered noisily on the cheeks
of his ass.
	I worked slowly, kissing, licking, and biting his cheeks, tonguing
his warm crack, my face sweating against his slippery buns.  His hips
began to spasm.  His ass started squirming.  My hands slid up his steel
thighs, pried his cheeks apart.  My tongue pushed at his puckered opening.
 Goose bumps broke out on his skin.
	"Jeeezzzusss!" he exclaimed.  "Jesus Jesus Jesus!" His hands slid
down to his ankles.  His asshole opened up and winked at me.  I blew hot
breath up his crack.  His legs trembled.
	"Are you ready?" I asked, clinging tightly to his thighs.
"No!" he panted.  "Keep on!  Keep on!"          
	"Blowing your asshole?"
	"Yes!  Yes!"
	"Making you hard again?"
	"Yes goddamnit!  Yes!"  He shoved his butt against my nose.  My
tongue wriggled slowly up his hairy crevice.  My breath bounced warmly off
his cheeks.  Randall shivered and twitched.
	"Christ!" he muttered.  "Christ Almighty!"
	"Something wrong?" I asked, clamping my hands on his hips.
	"No!  Do it!  Do it!"
	My tongue probed his quivering rosebud.
	"Deeper! he gasped.  "Deeper!  Harder!"
	I spread his ass wide, and licked his crack, stopping occasionally
to catch a breath of air and slurp my way down the fuzzy trail that led to
the edge of his balls.  Each time I nibbled my way back up his saliva
drenched crack, his puckered opening seemed more and more inviting.  At
one point, I could feel his convulsions squeezing my tongue.  I blew hot
breath into his wet hole.
	"Ahhh," he sighed.
	I blew again, then wriggled my tongue into the puckered slot. 
Randall came alive, squirming and rocking, hips gyrating.  A moment later
he straightened up and spun around, both hands cupping his balls as he
arched his hips forward.  The angry red knob on his long, lean rod was
slick with pre-cum.
	We connected quickly, my hands clawing at his muscular ass as he
buried his cock in my throat.  Then, tightly gripping my ears, he came
hard and fast in my mouth, filling me with spicy semen while his pubic
patch hammered my lips.  His thighs shuddered.  His legs writhed.  His
cock sputtered and convulsed on my tongue.  I drank slowly, relishing the
moment, working desperately to keep the adventure alive.  But all too soon
he was shriveled and soft, once again a glistening tube hanging in front
of my face.  I watched him pull up his shorts, then got to my feet and
kissed hie erect nipples.
	"We're gonna make it," I said, running my lips over his chest.
	He glanced at his watch.  "Not in eleven minutes."
	"What!  Eleven minutes!"
	He smiled, and fingered a swatch of hair from his forehead. 
"That's the way it goes when you're having fun," he said.
	I sighed, and crouched down in front of him, fully realizing that
there was not enough time to get him hard again.  But I had eleven minutes
to spend before his visit was up.
	I leaned forward and curled a hand around each boot top.  His
fingers stroked the back of my neck while I kissed and licked the sensual
leather, gradually making love to first one leg, then the other.  A few
inches above each knee, I rubbed my face into the flesh of a rockhard
thigh and breathed deeply, saturating my mind with his natural masculinity
before letting my lips fall back to his erotic footgear.  I was crouched
down on my knees and elbows, neck craned, clutching both his heels and
licking his left ankle, when I ran out of time.
	"Shit," I mumbled, pulling myself up, brushing off my trousers and
tucking in my shirt tail..
	Randall picked up his t-shirt and quickly pulled it on over his
head.  When he was back inside his jeans he ran a comb through his hair
and checked his watch.  "I gave you an extra minute," he said.  "Maybe
next time I'll give you two."
	I walked with him all the way out to the driver's side of the car.
 He scooted under the wheel, put the key in the ignition, checked the
rearview mirror, and gave me a cocky smile.  I leaned down and peered in
the open window.  He unzipped his jeans and let his cock hang out.
	"You're amazing," I said.
	"Only way to be," Randall said.
	I glanced around at the noonday traffic criss-crossing the mall. 
"I'm going to miss you when this is over."
	He put his hand on top of mine.  "You're not going to make another
sales pitch, are you?"
	"Of course I am.  You can have the whole goddamn store if you want
it.  I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."
	He gave me a lopsided grin.  "You already did that."
	"I mean, a better one."
	"Don't see how you could."
	"Oh yeah?  How about a nice leather jacket, maybe two?" 
	His eyes lit up.  "You don't sell leather jackets."
	"Don't worry about it.  I'll work out the details."
	He ignited the Firebird's engine, put a knowing grin on his face,
and started backing away.  "We'll talk," he said.  "We'll talk."
	As I watched him drive across the parking lot, and exit onto sixth
street, I realized that my remark about a couple of leather jackets might
have been a little hasty, not to mention expensive.  But I had to do
something or I was gonna lose him.
	In three more visits, the boots would be paid for.