Date: Sun, 22 Jun 2008 13:26:43 -0400
From: keybedder@aol.com
Subject: Secondhand

SECONDHAND by K. Nitsua. Copyright 2008 by the author.

Summer had just begun and already I was bored. Going to the gym, sitting in
the Starbucks reading the paper, and surfing the net for online porn had
long since gotten old. So what was I doing today? Checking out the Goodwill
store. My so-called life.

I'd had a good job, made a lot of money, and been able to retire early. So
what was I doing in a thrift store? Going to the Goodwill wasn't as trashy
as it might seem, actually. I'd picked up lots of good, practically new
stuff there. Besides, it was a great place to check out cute men. No
fooling. Younger guys, especially college students, are often short on
cash, and sometimes it seemed as if all the studly ones shopped here.

Not that they were looking at me. All those years I worked I was too busy
to spend a lot of time dating or cruising, and now that I had the time I
was too old. None of those hot boys was going to take a second look at me,
and I refused to go hang out at parks, bookstores or tearooms. I wasn't
going to become one of those pathetic old trolls. That meant being pushed
to the sidelines. I'd accepted my fate but that didn't mean I was happy
about it.

A blast of cool air hit me as I pushed open the door and walked in. As
usual the place reeked of dry-cleaning fluid--they had to make sure those
used clothes were sanitary, I guess. The cashier smiled and said hello. I
guess I was a regular by now. I nodded back and glanced toward the men's
wear racks. No one was there. I looked at the bid case and dodged some
screaming little kids running around. Fortunately that family was leaving.

I started looking at the men's clothes. The front rack nearest the store
window had the underwear and sports gear. That stuff never much interested
me because it was almost never the right size or color. I could never
figure out whether normal-sized people never gave their stuff to Goodwill
or whether it simply got snapped up too fast for me to grab any of it. The
briefs and boxers in particular made me crack up--the pairs on sale were
usually enormous. I tried to picture a man who could actually wear an XXXL
pair of jockeys, and wondered whether he actually existed outside of a pro
wrestling ring.

There was a normal-sized pair of briefs on the rack today, but I could see
why nobody had bought them. They were high-cut and a bright safety
orange. Eye-catching, but not really a sexy color. I moved to the next
aisle to look at shirts. At that moment the door opened. I looked up and
knew I had struck pay dirt.

A man had come into the store and was heading for the clothes
racks. Actually he was a boy compared to me. He couldn't have been more
than twenty--one of those college students looking for cheap threads. He
was slender and hard, with unruly dark brown hair and a day's growth of
beard. To my delight he decided to look at shirts too. As he thumbed
through the rack down the aisle from me I cast surreptitious looks at him,
liking what I saw more and more. He wore a loose, old shirt. The top two
buttons were open, giving me a glimpse of his chest. His slim-fit jeans
hugged his narrow hips and small rear end.

Then it happened. As I was copping a look at his lean, square-jawed face he
raised his head and caught my eye. His own eyes were gorgeous--large,
bright and dark brown.  There was no hardness or challenge in them, only
friendly curiosity.

I blushed, and ducked my head. It was humiliating that I couldn't even look
another guy in the eye, but I'd never been good at talking to strangers,
which explained why I was retired and single, I guess. I mapped out the
quickest escape route in my head.

"So what do you think of this?"

Was he talking to me? I looked up. He was. I tried to say something but
only a hoarse rattle came out of my dry throat. I harrumphed and tried
again.

"I don't know. It's kind of old for you." It was a blue and white
pinstriped Brooks Brothers dress shirt, the kind business types wore to the
office.

He looked at it and let it drop. "Maybe so."

I turned back to the rack, relieved but somehow disappointed.

"How about this one?"

I looked at him again. This time he was holding up a faux-silk number with
bright colored vertical stripes. On a skinny young guy like him it might
actually look good. I said as much.

He looked at the shirt, then at me. "I'm going to try it on. Would you tell
me how it looks on me?"

I shrugged. Another youngster stuck on himself.

"Sure. I'll wait here."

His gaze held mine. "Why don't you come with me?"

For a moment I didn't believe what I'd heard. "Come with you?" I repeated,
like a fool.

"Sure." He smiled.

The dressing rooms were at the back. They weren't very private--the doors
had slats and didn't extend either to the floor or the ceiling. Still, he
was inviting me into one. Who knew what could happen?

"Okay."

Ever so casually we walked through the store, him holding the shirt, and
went into one of the empty cubicles. By the time I pushed the button latch
in the doorknob and turned around he was slipping off his shirt in front of
the mirror. His bare torso looked exactly like I thought it would--hard,
flat stomach with a fine dusting of hair, pecs defined but not huge. One
nipple was pierced with a small gold ring. I wanted to pull on it so bad.

His jeans were slung low on his hips, the way all the young guys wore them
these days. I could see he was wearing a pair of blue plaid boxers
underneath. I had an idea. "Hold on, be right back."

I walked back to the front of the store and grabbed the orange briefs I'd
seen when I first came in off the rack. When I got back he'd put the
Goodwill shirt on and was looking at himself in the mirror. It looked great
on him, as I'd thought it would. He turned and saw the underwear.

"What the--you want me to put those on?" He looked skeptical.

"Sure," I said, thinking fast. "I don't know how you stuff those boxer
things into those tight jeans. This is what you're supposed to wear under
jeans."

He shook his head. "I don't know. At any rate I don't want to here."

I saw my chance and went for broke. "I live nearby. Come back to my place
and try them on."

His head snapped up. Before he could say anything I played my last
card. "Tell you what, I'll buy both these things for you."

Silence that went on and on, then I saw his slow smile, the shrug of his
shoulders. "Heck, why not? Lead the way, man."

I'd been telling him the truth--I lived just a few blocks from the Goodwill
and had walked to the store. We made the short trip back mostly in silence,
my new friend carrying the clothes I'd bought for him in a plastic bag. I'd
found out his name, at least--Michael. Not Mike, he said firmly.

"Nice place," he said as we walked in the front door. I'd already made up
my mind not to come on too strong. After all, I hadn't said or done
anything overt and neither had he. So I kept playing the game.

"You want anything before we get started? A Coke, a beer?" I asked.

Michael shook his head, that small smile on his face again. He really was
cute. At that point I didn't even care whether I actually fucked the kid or
not. The novelty of having a guy less than half my age in my place was
enough. And he was about to take his clothes off for me.

"You can put those things on in my bedroom down the hall," I said, handing
him the bag. "Put your jeans back on over the underwear and tuck the shirt
in. Then come on back and let's see how you look."

He trotted obediently away and I sat on the living room couch, surprised
and a bit embarrassed that I was breathing hard, even shaking a little bit.

It seemed like a very long time before I heard his returning
footsteps. Michael came in, wearing the new shirt tucked in like I told
him. He'd left the two top buttons undone the way he had with his other
shirt. The bright stripes together with the tight jeans made him look as
slim as a reed, even younger than he was. My breath caught in my throat.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

"You look terrific," I told him. "All ready to hit the clubs."

He shrugged, but I could tell he was pleased.

"You wearing the briefs underneath?"

"Yeah."

"So--you like them?"

"I don't know. I don't wear that kind of underwear usually. Feels kind of
weird."

"Well," I said, licking my lips, "Let's see how they look on you."

He dropped his gaze modestly as he undid his fly and pushed his jeans down
to his knees.

"Unbutton the shirt." My voice was a hoarse rasp.

Whatever was going through his head, Michael knew what to do. He undid the
shirt, pulled the tails apart and pushed them back as he put his hands on
his hips. The skimpy orange briefs rode low, giving me a perfect view of
his hard, flat stomach, the dark treasure trail thickening as it descended
toward the waistband, the ridges of muscle above his groin. And, of course,
the swelling mound stretching the elastic fabric.

As I watched he cocked one hip to the side in a perfect model's stance. I
looked up. His eyes were just as they had been in the store--no hardness or
attitude in them, just an open, frank question. I stood and went over to
him.

"Lovely," I said, and ran one hand over his chest and stomach, hooking my
finger into his nipple ring and tugging at it, very gently. Michael's eyes
closed and I heard his quick intake of breath. He let out a soft groan as I
bent down and flicked my tongue over his other tit.

I kept working both nipples as I knelt, kissing his stomach. Finally I
reached his crotch. I took my sweet time, teasing him and myself, drawing
the orange Jockeys slowly down his hips until his cock finally popped out,
already almost hard, startling me with its length and thickness. His pubes
were coal-black, darker than his head hair. Clear fluid leaked from the tip
of the conical purplish head, freed from its foreskin. His balls were round
and tight and no doubt very full. The next moment I'd inhaled his rod and
was sliding back and forth on it like a madman. So much for holding back.

"Oh fuck that's nice," Michael said, grabbing my head as I continued to
suck him.

 "Mm hmm," I agreed. The day had already exceeded my wildest dreams-getting
a load out of this young stud would be icing on the cake.

Michael, it seemed, had other ideas. I felt his hands under my arms, urging
me to my feet, pulling my reluctant mouth away from its prize. Before I
knew it he was on his knees in front of me, undoing my button fly and
fishing my own organ out. He looked up at me and grinned.

"You're not wearing anything underneath," he observed.

I tried to imitate his shrug. "That's the other option," I said, ending
with a startled "Uh!" as his mouth engulfed my cock. My eyes closed and my
mouth opened as waves of pleasure washed over me. Michael was a terrific
cocksucker. His hand tugged at my balls, keeping the skin stretched tight
as warm, wet lips and tongue slid over the shaft and head of my prick. Soon
I was moaning helplessly, getting closer and closer to blowing my load. I
didn't want that to happen just yet, so I backed up and out of his talented
mouth and bent toward him.

"You are fucking hot," I whispered before clamping my mouth onto his. We
stood and kissed for long moments, tongues tangling, lips coming together
with bruising force, breaking apart reluctantly and going back for
more. Our hands roved over each other's bodies, sliding under what remained
of our clothes. "Want to take this back to the bedroom?"

In a few moments we were going at it again on my bed. I got behind Michael
as he lay on his stomach, grabbed his hips and lifted his ass toward my
face. His hole was small and pink, surrounded by just a few dark hairs. It
tasted as good as it looked. He groaned in appreciation as I ate his ass.

"Fuck me, Lee."

"I'd love to," I said. "Let me get a rubber."

"No." Michael looked back at me and shook his head. He added, "You're
clean, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

His dark eyes were intense. "So am I. You've got to do me bare, man. Only
way. So fucking hot when a guy dumps his load inside. I can feel it. Makes
me cum like that."

I had to admit his dirty talk was getting me hot. I looked at his hard
slender body, his tight little butt, all mine for the taking. What the
hell.

"I still need lube."

He chuckled. "No way you're going to get that thing in me otherwise."

"I'll go slow." I hopped off the bed and went to the bathroom. It took me a
while before I found the tube-it'd been a long time since I'd used it. When
I came back in Michael was still lying on his stomach, his head turned
toward me. He smiled.

I knelt between his legs, greasing my cock up with a handful of lube and
putting a fingerful into his asshole. I was shaking with excitement again
and had to keep telling myself to take it easy. When I was ready I
stretched out full length over Michael's prone body, grabbed my cock and
gently pressed it in. I sucked in my breath as I felt the squeezing heat of
his back passage. I had to admit it felt wonderful without a rubber.

Michael hadn't said anything or made a sound underneath me, but now I heard
him sigh in contentment. I began to thrust gently into him. "Is this okay?"
I asked.

"Mm hmm. Perfect."

I fucked him slowly a few minutes in this position before I felt like I
could control myself and not blow my load too soon. I put my hands under
his stomach and pushed him toward me.

"Hands and knees, baby."

Doing him doggy style was hot-I could look at the long dark hair falling on
the nape of his neck and his muscled back, tapering in a "V" down to his
incredibly slim waist and hips. I forced myself not to glance lower
down-the sight of my bare shaft sliding in and out between the pale curves
of his butt cheeks would have made me cum in a second, and I wanted to last
as long as I could.

Michael's hole twitched and squeezed at my shaft as I fucked him. I figured
that was a good sign. I reached around and tugged at his nipple ring, then
grasped his hard, hard cock. He pushed my hand away.

"Don't. I'll cum right away if you do that."

I grinned. "I know the feeling." I contented myself with nibbling and
licking at his earlobe, then stealing a sidelong kiss. The scent rising
from his aroused body was driving me wild, though, and soon I'd waited long
enough. I pulled out and asked him to turn over. As soon as Michael was on
his back I spread his legs wide apart and shoved myself back in. I leaned
back, watching my cock fuck his hole, making his balls shake every time I
hit bottom.

I didn't lose control, though, until I looked up into his face. His dark
eyes stared into mine, daring me to fuck him harder, to give him what he
wanted. He jerked his head in a barely perceptible nod and gave me another
smile.

That did it. I leaned forward over him and began to fuck him full force, my
body slamming into his with an audible slap on every downstroke. Michael's
eyes danced with delight. "Yeah, fuck me, man," he whispered.

My lips and tongue found his, and we kissed for one last time. My gasping
breaths turned into grunts, then hoarse guttural shouts as cum rose from my
balls, hurtled through my dick and exploded out the end in a hot flood deep
into his gut. "Aw fuck, I'm cumming," I hissed through clenched teeth as I
pounded my load into him.

"Fuck yeah," Michael said, his arms clamped around my neck. I felt sticky
wet heat on my stomach and looked down as soon as I could open my
eyes. Sure enough, he'd shot his load without touching himself.

"That is pretty amazing," I said.

He grinned. "Only happens when I'm really turned on."

When we started to catch our breaths I reluctantly pulled out of him and
went to get a towel to clean ourselves up. After that we lay on the bed,
loosely cuddled in each other's arms. I felt my years finally catching up
with me-my eyes were falling shut and try as I might I couldn't stay awake.

"All this for a secondhand shirt and a pair of Jockeys," I said to
him. "Best bargain I ever picked up at the Goodwill."

Michael smiled, but looked a little funny.

"Stay with me, would you?" I asked, as a huge yawn came out of nowhere. "I
just need a little rest-"

That was the last thing I remembered.

I don't know how long it was before I woke up, my eyes and brain sludgy
with sleep. The sun had set, and the bedroom was almost dark. The house was
silent and stuffy.

I was alone. Michael was gone, and so were his clothes.

I walked out of the bedroom into the hallway. I told myself I hadn't been
expecting any more than what I got-in fact, what I'd gotten was a whole lot
more than what I'd been expecting.

So why did I feel so empty inside?

I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water to wash the taste
of sex from my mouth. In a moment I'd jump in the shower and get myself
cleaned up. Then I'd try and put the memory of Michael behind me.

Something caught my eye on the kitchen table-three bills, a ten and two
ones. I was sure I hadn't put the money there. My cell phone was lying
nearby, and as I picked up the cash it rang, startling me.

I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID. I put the phone to my ear.

"Hey, you're awake," Michael's voice said.

My heart leaped with what I realized was joy. "Hey," I said, trying to keep
my voice casual. "How did you get my number?"

He chuckled. "Off your phone when you were asleep. Sorry I snooped
around. I guess I could have left mine, but I was afraid you wouldn't call
if I did."

"Why wouldn't I call?" He was so sweet. "Hey, what's with the cash?"

"Oh, that's for the clothes."

I clicked my tongue. "That was a present, for Pete's sake."

"I felt kind of weird about it. I didn't want you to think I went home with
you just because you bought me something. I mean, I'm not into that."

So he was upset when I told him he'd been a bargain. What was with a guy
who'd take cum up his ass from me, but not a few secondhand clothes? Young
people these days were so strange.

"Michael, I'm sorry I said that about the clothes. That was tacky. Forgive
me?"

"Well, sure." He sounded relieved.

"If I can't buy you clothes, can I buy you dinner?"

 "I guess." I could see him shrugging. "Not Chinese food, though;"

"You don't like Chinese?"

"I work at a Chinese restaurant. That's where I am right now. That's why I
left, I had to go to work. I didn't want to wake you up."

"You can have any kind of food you want. Then after we eat we can go
shopping. After you fuck me."

He laughed. "Sounds good."

So I took Michael out to dinner and we went shopping, at Sears this time,
after he'd fucked me (with a condom). It's been months and he's still
hanging with me, lord knows why. The only fights we've had are when I've
told him he ought to find someone younger.

"Lee, can you get it through your thick head. I know I can date guys my own
age. I don't want to. I want to be with you."

So I've given up and made up my mind to enjoy this thing with Michael while
it lasts. He still prefers wearing baggy boxers, but if I ask him to, he'll
put on that first pair of orange briefs I got him. That always gets me
going, of course.

"I love Goodwill," I told him once, as I peeled the underwear off of him
for the hundredth time. "You sure can find great stuff if you look."

"I love Goodwill too," Michael said. "Hot guys shop there."

"Mm," I said, as I eased his cock into my mouth, "I'll drink to that."

END