the-suit-fitting-1

Subject: The Suit Fitting – 1 (Gay Encounters) Please consider donating to Nifty to keep the hot stories fty/donate.html This and all other chapters of this story are the copyright of the author. (c) 2021. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real events or real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. * * * * * “You went and got fitted for your suit, right Cam?” my sister asked, testily. “Uh… I’m gonna do it this weekend,” I answered sheepishly. The truth was, I’d forgotten about it. Her wedding was still months away, so I didn’t understand why it was necessary to get fitted so far in advance. “Cam, you promised!” she whined. “Today was the deadline.” “But…” I started. “This isn’t an off-the-rack tux you’re getting fitted for,” she said, cutting me off. “It’s a CUSTOM made suit — from ITALY!” “Okay, okay, okay,” I relented. I could hear the panic in her voice. “I’ll go there now. I was just heading to the river trail for a run, so I’m in the car already.” “Promise me!” she demanded. “I promise, Tessie,” I said, intoning her childhood nickname that I whipped out when I wanted to sound cute and sincere. “Don’t Tessie me,” she said pouting. “Just go get measured for your fucking suit. And text me when you’re done.” “Okay, I will,” I said. “Love you.” “Love you, too,” she said tenderly, before adding, “Even though you drive me fucking crazy!” * * * * * Today had been the first day in weeks that I’d actually gotten out of work on time — a little early actually. It was a beautiful, warm, late spring day. So I rushed home, threw on my running gear and jumped into the car to head to the park. It would be my first day actually running outdoors in months. With my crazy work schedule and the last couple months of wetter-than-average weather, I’d been forced to make do with late night runs on the treadmill in my condo’s fitness center. I was almost all the way to the park when Theresa (aka “Tessie”) called. So I drove the remaining short distance there and pulled into a parking space near the trailhead. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my email to find the name of the store where I was supposed to go for the suit. I keyed in the name on my map app and it popped up a box with the store’s location, which was on a tony stretch of shops on the east side of town. The app estimated a 35-minute drive to the store. Triangulating that with the store’s weekday hours, I came to the realization that I would be arriving there about 15 minutes after their closing time. Fuck! I dialed the number, hoping they’d be willing to hang out for a few minutes. “Avanti Suits my cock is pretty impressive when soft. I get lots of envious — and sometimes hungry — looks when I’m in the locker room at the gym or spa. It’s a healthy 7.5” when hard, but it’s not the dramatic growth I’ve seen from some guys I’ve been with who are more “growers”. Chris grabbed his tape measure and reached around my waist to bring it together on my hip bone. The slack end rested gently against my shaft. I took a deep breath in. Looking into the mirror, I could see that Chris was sweating profusely. His forehead was damp and dark patches had formed in the pits of his shirt. “You should make yourself comfortable,” I said, breaking the awkward silence as Chris pulled the tape measure down around my butt. “Pardon?” Chris said, looking up. “You’re sweating up a storm in a vest and shirt and I’m standing here butt naked,” I said, laughing. “You should make yourself comfortable.” Chris smiled and looked at us in the mirror. “It is pretty warm in here. I guess I could take this off,” he stood and unbuttoned his vest and pulled it off. His shirt was damp and plastered to his torso revealing a tank undershirt beneath. “You can ditch the shirt, too, if you want,” I added. “What is it, like 80 degrees in here?” Chris turned to look at the thermostat on the wall. “85 degrees, to be precise,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” “Not at all. I’m feeling a little under-dressed at the moment, anyway,” I said, laughing. He smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling it off, he tossed it on the chair with the upper half of his suit. His arms were nicely muscled and kocaeli escort I could see a few wisps of dark blond hair peeking out from the pits. The tank was low-cut in the front and revealed just a light dusting of blond chest hair. Since it was damp and fairly sheer, I could see his nipples through the fabric. They were surprisingly dark for someone as fair as him. “That feel better?” I asked. “Yes. Much better, thanks,” he said, smiling. He stood to one side and measured me from hip bone to ankle. “Would you mind spreading your legs just a bit?” he asked. “I thought you’d never ask,” I said, straight faced. Chris looked up at me wide eyed and then laughed when I gave him a big smile and a wink. He wrapped the tape measure around my thigh and jotted down the numbers. “Now for your inseam,” he said, nodding down towards my crotch. “Let me get these out of your way,” I said, grinning sheepishly as I lifted my cock and ball sac up. “Perfect, thanks,” he said and pressed one end of the tape measure gently against my taint and pulled the other end down to my ankle. “That’s all for the measurements.” “Should I get dressed now?” I asked. “I’d need to have you try on a couple sample items to make sure they fit,” he said, setting his tape measure down and writing down the last measurement. “So you might as well remain… undressed for now.” “Okay,” I said. “But you can have a seat, if you’d like,” he added, gesturing towards the couch. “I’ll just be a couple minutes pulling the samples.” I sat down on the couch nearest the side table. I refilled my water glass and downed the rest of my water. The leather was warm against my bare skin and I could feel dampness collecting where they met. I looked in the mirror and chuckled at the sight of myself sitting naked on the couch. This is NOT how I imagined my day ending. * * * * * A few minutes later, Chris returned to the room with a jacket, pants and shirt. He hung the shirt and jacket on a hook on the wall and pulled the pants off the hanger. “Can I have you try these on?” he asked, handing the pants to me. “Sure,” I said, standing from the couch. I pulled the pants on, carefully tucked my cock inside and zipped and buttoned them up. They fit pretty well overall, but were a little loose in the waist and way too long. Chris fussed at the waistband a bit, pinning the excess fabric back in the front on either side. He slipped a couple fingers inside the pants to make sure he didn’t poke me with the safety pins. In doing so, his fingers raked against my pubic hair. “A bit of a delicate question for you,” he said, looking at me in the mirror. “Okay,” I replied, wondering what was going to come next. “Do you generally keep yourself to the left, like this, or to the right?” he asked. I smiled. “Oh you mean whether I wear my dick on the left or right?” Yes, he grinned. “We have just a little extra fabric added on the preferred side for comfort.” “Got it,” I said. “Yeah, I usually keep him on the left.” I reached down and adjusted my dick in the pants. “And with the fit of these particular pants, we recommend foregoing underwear,” he said, still looking at my crotch. “The suit maker will add a small panel of thin absorbent fabric on that side as well. To trap any drips.” I laughed. “In case I don’t shake it off enough at the urinal?” “Yes, and….” Chris stammered. “In case I’m a leaker?!?” I laughed again. Chris laughed with me. “That is correct.” “Wow, they think of everything,” I said. “I’m surprised they don’t have a built-in cock ring, too.” “If you wanted one,” Chris said, raising his hands. “I’m sure they’d do it for you.” We both laughed. “I can probably do without that,” I said, smiling. “Yes, it doesn’t seem like you need one,” he added. Then he realized what he said and began to turn beet red. “Oh, I am so sorry.” “C’mon Chris, don’t worry about it,” I said, giving him a playful punch in the bicep. He smiled, his color returning to a slightly more normal shade of pink. He proceeded to cuff the pants to a satisfactory length and pinned them up with straight pins. “Now let’s get you into the shirt,” Chris said as he pulled a crisp white shirt off the hanger. I slipped the shirt on and buttoned it kocaeli escort bayan up. “Do you want me to tuck it in?” “Yes, please,” he replied. I unbuttoned and unzipped the pants and spread open the fly. Chris blushed again a little as my bush and the top of my cock came into view, but he made no effort to avert his eyes. I tucked the shirt in over my butt and down in front on either side of my cock. I rezipped and rebuttoned the pants. Chris stood behind me and pinned the shirt in a few places until it hugged my chest and stomach. Then he pressed lightly on my butt until he could see the outline of the shirts hem through the pants. He pulled his measuring tape out and measured the distance from the pant’s waist to the hem of the shirt. Then he did the same in the front just to the left of my crotch. “The trick is get the hem as short as possible to minimize show-through, but long enough so that it doesn’t pull out easily,” he said, pressing the tape measure firmly near my cock. I looked down at him and to my horror realized that a tiny damp spot had started to appear near the head of my cock. “Sorry. I guess that absorbent panel will come in handy,” I said, now turning red myself. “It seems so,” Chris replied, trying to hide his grin. “How much longer do we have to go?” I asked, worried that the spot would continue to grow. “I still need to fit the jacket,” he said. “So it’s probably another 20 or 30 minutes.” “These pants are pretty warm,” I said, sweat trickling down my back and between my butt cheeks. “Why don’t you go ahead and slip those off now,” he said. “I can fit you for the jacket without them. Just be careful of the pins.” “Okay,” I said, unfastening the pants and sliding them off. After handing them to Chris, he turned and carefully draped them over a hanger and hung them on the wall. I could see that his undershirt was completely soaked. I quickly ran a finger over the head of my cock, wiped away a bead of precum that had collected there and then dabbed it on the hem of the shirt. Chris grabbed the jacket and turned to hand it to me. “Now if you could just slip this on over the shirt.” “Should I put my shorts back on first?” I asked, gesturing towards my pile on the couch. “You don’t have to,” Chris replied. “However you’re most comfortable.” “Okay. Actually the fresh air feels pretty good down there,” I said, laughing and pulling the jacket on. “I can imagine,” Chris smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow again. “You are more than welcome to make yourself comfortable, too, Chris,” I said. “It’s starting to look like you entered a wet t-shirt contest.” He laughed and blushed, looking down at his soaked and nearly transparent shirt. “Thanks, but I really couldn’t.” “Why not? The store’s closed and I’m practically naked,” I said, gesturing down to my bare lower half. “And it’s freaking hot in here!” “It’s tempting,” he said, smiling. “C’mon,” I urged. I was genuinely thinking of his comfort, but also not opposed to the idea of seeing more of him. “Well… okay,” he said, setting his pins and measuring tape aside. He proceeded to peal his wet undershirt off his stomach and chest before pulling it off over his head. “Pants, too,” I said, sweating in the shirt and jacket. He looked at me, smiled and happily relented. “Just please don’t ever mention this to the manager,” he said, as he slipped off his shoes and then unfastened his pants. “My lips are sealed,” I said. He turned and slid his pants down over his butt and stepped out of them. He was wearing a white thong with just a thin waistband, so I got to appreciate the full roundness of his bare white ass cheeks. When he turned, I took in a deep breath. The pouch of his underwear rode low in front and was made of white mesh fabric. Wisps of dark blond hair were visible above the pouch, which was translucent enough to reveal the delineation between his shaft and balls. He filled the pouch out very nicely. “You look great,” I said, without thinking. “Thanks,” he said, blushing again. “Now let’s get that jacket fitted on you so you can get out of it again.” * * * * * For the next 15 minutes, he circumnavigated the platform, tucking and pinning the jacket until it conformed to my izmit escort body. I watched his nearly naked form in the mirrors in front of us as he went about his work. At one point, as he pinned the hem of the jacket near the front, the back of his fingers brushed against my shaft. “I’m sorry, Cam,” he said quickly. “No worries. It’s all good,” I replied, taking a deep breath and willing the blood flow away from my cock. But the view and the brief contact was starting to have an effect on me. My cock was beginning to firm up and push against the fabric of the shirt. Chris scurried behind me and busied himself pinning the hem so it hit at the fullest part of my ass. After a couple minutes, he stepped out and stood beside me, “There, I think that looks good,” he said, taking in the view of the adjusted jacket in the mirror. I looked at the jacket from collar to hem. It did look good. And then my eyes trailed down Chris’ pale torso to his underwear. His cock had become fully erect and the pink head was now poking out of the waistband. “Yes, it does,” I said, smiling with eyes wide open at the sight. My own cock began to chub up even more. Chris’ gaze panned down to his crotch. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” he said, reaching down to tuck his cock back into the pouch. It was now sticking straight out and pulled the waistband fully away from his waist. I could see almost the full length of his shaft, with just the head shrouded in the white mesh pouch. My cock engorged even more, pushing against the hem of the jacket until it burst forth between the front panels. “Don’t worry about it,” I laughed. “It looks like we’re kinda in the same boat!” Chris looked at my cock and suppressed a smile. “It seems that way, doesn’t it.” “Can you help me out of this jacket before my cock ends up like a voodoo doll?” I asked, unbuttoning the jacket. “Of course,” Chris laughed. He stepped behind me and slipped the jacket off my shoulders and then hung it up. “Would you like me to help you out of the shirt, too?” “Yeah,” I said, smiling. I stepped down from the platform and he began unbuttoning the shirt. His fingers tickled against the damp hair of my chest and stomach. He reached the last button right above my hard cock and unfastened it, his fingers pressed against my dark pubic hair. Then he spread the shirt open across my chest and helped me slip out each arm until I was fully naked once again. He turned to hang up the shirt and I looked at myself in the mirror: Hot, dripping in sweat, and my full 7.5″ erection sticking out in front of me. Chris turned back towards me. “We’re almost done, Cam,” he said, looking at me from head to toe. “If you’d like to have a seat, you can fill out this form with your contact information.” He pulled a small clipboard from a drawer in the side table and handed it to me with a pen. I took it from him and sat down on the couch next to my clothes. My drooping balls hit the warm leather and my erection poked up between my thighs. I began to fill in my name, cell number and email address. “Do I need to leave a deposit or anything?” I asked. “No, the Maythornes have asked that we bill the suits to their account,” he smiled. “Wow, that’s cool,” I said. “I’ll submit the order tonight and then when the suit and shirt come back in a few months, we’ll contact you to do a final fitting,” Chris said, looking down at me. His erection was still tenting the pouch of his underwear obscenely. “I promise not to make you do an after-hours fitting,” I laughed, filling in the last bits of information. “And I’ll dress more appropriately next time.” Chris laughed, as well. “I really hope you don’t. This has been one of the most enjoyable fittings I’ve done in a long time.” I handed him the clipboard, leaned back and spread my arms out on the back of the couch. Playfully fingering the sweat trapped in the hair on my chest, I propped my legs open, freeing my erection to flop back onto my pubic hair and stomach. “Chris, do you mind if I hang out here while you submit the order?” “Not at all,” he replied with a smile. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” “But do you think you could take off your underwear first?” He set the clipboard down, rested his hands on his bare hips and stepped towards me. “I don’t think so, Mr. Garfield,” he said seriously. I looked up at him surprised. After a moment of awkward silence, he added, “But… you’re more than welcome to take them off for me.”