Reverse Frotteurism: Mr. Jay's Measurements

     Mr. Jay's fine men's clothing has had my eye for a few months now.  Sitting within my jogging path, habitually, I've been slowing down and window shopping.  Their attire catches my eye because their suits are more professional than religious, while maintaining it's blackness.  One time in particular, a suit slows my run to a crawl, a wool three-piece suit with a perfect balanced pattern of brown and navy blue, with a little orange.
     Entering the store for the first time, I merely wanted to check prices and inquire about their tailoring.  I hate when shops sell suits without a tailor on-site.  I hate, even more, when a merchant considers cuffing my pants a complete tailoring service.  Design and style play a small role compared to the way a suit fits.
     Upon entering, I was greeted by an older black man.  He struck me as elegant.  Coordinated from head to toe in sand and autumn, he was impressively overdressed.  Before I could ask about their tailoring, his weathered voice asserts, "What sized jacket you wear?"
     "I'm not sure, I-"
     Interrupting me, "You look like a forty four.  Take your hoodie off and see how this fits you."
     In the middle of working out, I was dressed in sweats, "I just wanted to get some rates, I'm not prepared to try anything on."
     He asserts, "It doesn't matter, lets see what size you wear," feeling disobedient for hesitating, I unzip my jacket.  He smiles, "What's your waist size? You look like a thirty, maybe thirty-one; looks good."
     Not knowing whether to say 'thank you' or not, I opted to stay quiet.  Handing me a test jacket, I put it on, "Yeah, your sleeves are 44, but you have higher hips," demonstrating, he grabs my hips.  The quizzical look on my face lead him to clarify, "Meaning: you'll need longer sleeves and a shorter jacket."
     Manhandling me while eyeballing my measurements, "You have a nice X-figure: broad shoulders, small waist, full seat.  I could make you look real sharp; are you dressing for Easter Sunday?"
     "No sir, it would be for work."
     "Oh!  Yeah, you'd need a more fitted look; professional is fitted, church is looser.  I'd give you the three pieces for $350 and I'll give you a full tailor free of charge.  How that sound?"
     "That sounds good."
     "Alright, son, come back tomorrow.  Make sure you wash up good, the tailoring could get personal."

I'm unsure of what just happened

I'm both aroused and confused

I'll just keep an open mind...

J-Porn Favorites: "GayHound Express"

Imagine This

     You're waiting at the bus stop, running late for work...yet again.  Working on your "family emergency" bit, the bus pulls up much earlier than expected.  Sweet!  You would've had a hard time explaining how you acquired a third, dead grandmother anyways.  Rushing on-board, you pay your fare and squeeze your way through the packed bus, "It must be a home game today, everyone and their-fucking-daddy's on this bus."

     Avoiding eye contact with the pervy fat man staring at you, for some reason you check to see if your wallet's still in your back pocket.  You think, "They should really limit how many people they let board at one time.  This guy's breathing on my neck."  The bus is so crowded, you can't even turnover to see who keeps grabbing your ass. 

    

Suddenly, you hear, "Yeah..."

...whispered directly into your ear...

He grabs a fistful of your hair

There isn't enough room to fight

That's when everyone on the bus proceeds to tear your clothes off

     "GayHound Express: The Molester's Bus," is the SCARIEST piece of porn, I've ever seen.  The scariest part is that my dick gets hard while watching these cute Japanese men struggle unsuccessfully.  They can't escape being fondled and stripped.  They're eventually fellated and given forced rim jobs...I've seen other gay pornography feature rape fantasy, but this one is painful to watch!  I keep thinking, to myself, "The poor boy just wants to get to work."

The worst/best part is the walk of shame after he's dropped off.

He's trying to grapple with what just happened...

He came three times against his will...

His nipples are so sore...

He hopes his boss buys his excuse...

(For the record, I am aware that NOT judging me is impossible at this point)

Reverse Frotteurism: Reading Over My Shoulder

I can feel the blood filling my face; I know this feeling all too well.

I consciously keep my breathing in check, chanting to myself, "Remain professional, remain professional..."

I try to delay the erection

If you knew what this was doing to me

Would you discontinue?

Would it freak you out?

 

Your index finger traces the lines on my computer screen

Reading to yourself, you mumble under your breath

Unintentionally, spilling your words onto my face

Exhaling them softly down the side of my neck

Out of compulsion,

I ask another question, to which I already know the answer

Giving a more thorough explanation,
you lean in closer

Placing your cheek within kissing distance

Resting your hand on my shoulder

As if to invite me into your knowledge

Information has never been so warm
 

Whenever accounts receivables come to mind,
I'll remember your manicured hands

Your signature scent making me a genius and forgetful with every whiff

Suddenly, your voice breaks my trance,

"How was that? You think you get it now?"