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by Jay Gordon

Security was standing by the locked exit doors, waiting impatiently as the last few customers, who had browsed right up to closing, made their final purchases. The occasional last minute shopper walked up and tapped on the glass, hoping to get in for “one last gift.” The off-duty cops merely shook their heads and pointed to the sign, indicating the current hours—that the store had closed and would reopen promptly at nine the following morning. Christmas Eve.

I tried not to groan at the thought of Christmas Eve, the literal hell of retail workers, as I took a small pile of clothes from my final customer.

“Did you find everything you needed?” I asked, forcing a cheery smile to my lips and putting what I thought was a bright tone in my voice. 

The woman across from me half-heartedly returned my attempt at cheer, but her smile looked brittle and barely masked what seemed like hostility to me. 

“No, Tyler,” she said, looking up from my nametag. “It’ll be a busy shopping day tomorrow trying to find the rest!”

“Oh no!” I said. “Well, you did find some great deals,” I observed as I rang up a couple of items that had been marked eighty percent off.

“That is true!” she said, perking up a little. 

I quickly finished up her order, bagging her items as she paid. Something about her face told me to stop before the words left my mouth as I handed her bag across to her. But it came out anyway.

“Happy Holidays!” I said with a smile.

“It’s Christmas,” she said with a scowl. “I should have known you’d be one of those kind…”

Let it go! my mind demanded. Just let it—

“Have a good evening,” I said with a sigh, my smile hardening almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t you huff at me!” she growled, her volume rising. One of the security guards started to move our way, but I shook my head. ”You godless liberals and your war on Christmas, your homosexual agenda, your abortion-loving—”

I did the literal worst thing I could have done in that moment, short of punching the bitch in her tit. I laughed—like doubling-over-at-the-waist belly-laughed.

“What’s so—” she tried to ask, her anger rising exponentially.

Unable to speak, my laughter also intensified to the point I probably couldn’t have spoken to her if I had wanted to. Now despite my wishes, security had begun to move closer, just in case. It was probably a good idea because this lady looked like she wanted to jump over the counter.

“Ma’am, what seems to be the problem?” one of the officers—his name tag read Reid—asked.

“He’s laughing at me!” she shrieked hysterically. “He wished me a happy fucking holidays! And it’s Christmas, damn it!”

“Ma’am,” Officer Reid said, “I’m going to need you to lower your voice and—”

“I will not be quiet, and I’m not gonna let some mall cop push me around,” she said. “These godless heathen liberals can’t just attack Christmas and—”

The officer held up his hand and was about to speak when the older member of the security detail, Officer Daniels, said, “Ma’am, we are both with the Metro Stuartsville Police Department, and you are swerving close to disturbing the peace… Now I know you want your family to have a good Christmas and not have anything get in the way of—”

“Are you threatening me?” the woman asked shrilly, her volume rising further. 

Shit, this has gotten real, I thought, my eyes widening further as she drive her index finger into the man’s chest twice and told him to get out of her “fucking face!”

“Thanks a lot,” Officer Reid said to me dryly, rolling his eyes, as Officer Daniels grabbed the woman’s wrist, twisted her arm around behind her back, and snapped the cuffs on with amazing speed. “You just couldn’t let her walk out the door, Tyler?”

“She’s the lunatic who lost her fucking mind over Happy Holidays!” I complained. “Her brain is leaky dynamite—she could have gone off anywhere…”

“Anywhere else and I wouldn’t be waiting around for paperwork!” Reid said.

“Once the patrolmen get here, you can go,” Daniels said dryly, shouting over the noise of the woman who was now alternating between screaming profanities and wailing sobs. Shooting Reid a disapproving glance, he added, “I can handle that and make sure everyone gets out safe…”

“I need to get my cash drawer to the manager and—” I began.

“Go do what you need to do,” Daniels said, “but don’t leave if you get finished before the officers get here. They’ll need to get a statement from you…”

“Y’all are really going to arrest her for disturbing the peace and—” I asked.

Daniels cut me off. “She’s on video assaulting an officer,” he said, making sure she heard him. “Disturbing the peace and screwing up the holidays are the least of her problems…”

The look Reid gave me made me wonder whether the woman would ever be charged or whether they’d just scare some sense into her and send her on her way in a couple of hours.

I took the cash drawer from my register back to the office and counted it out with my manager, signing off on our final count. My final closing duty, since I was the last cashier in the back and I was to wait for the police to arrive anyway, was to put the clothes from the dressing rooms—all the things people had tried on and not bought—back on the racks they came from.

Normally this wasn’t such a bad job, but it was the day before the shop-pocalypse and we had been slammed all evening by a wave of consumers. In the women’s section alone I nearly filled an entire rolling hanger rack with clothes. I made my way around to the men’s side and opened the first changing room to grab what I could find.

“What the—” the man inside asked loudly, covering his dick with his left hand and reaching across to pull a robe off a hanger to put on.

“I’m sorry sir,” I mumbled, “but we’re closed and no one was supposed to be back here…” 

But I trailed off as I said it. It wasn’t a bathrobe the man was struggling to get on with one hand to avoid flashing his junk at me—it was the white fur-lined red velvet cape of a Santa suit.

I would never have recognized the gorgeous nude hunk I’d pulled the curtain back on as our store’s fill-in Santa. He certainly didn’t fit the mold of an older, chubbier gentleman. We had one of those: an authentic, white-bearded, doesn’t-need-padding Santa, with a loving grandpa laugh and pink cheeks. And he currently had the flu.

Now I’d gotten an intimate look at this most not-Santa of Clauses. His muscular, smooth, tanned-all-over body was beautifully decorated with black-and-grey tattoos. His massive biceps were covered, with a chest piece connecting them, and his left calf was fully covered too. I couldn’t see where else he might have ink—though I badly wanted to get a closer look at all of him—but they were obviously well-placed to be invisible in business attire. 

Looking at his meticulously maintained high fade cut and the designer clothes in his bag, contrasting with the tattoos—and yes those bars in his nipples—I knew this man was a professional-in-the-streets, bad-boy-in-the-sheets kind of guy. And I felt my dick stir. And then I wondered how he had ended up as a mall Santa the week of Christmas, and that helped the dick stirring problem. Then I remembered I was working mall retail the week of Christmas, and my dick problem was completely and utterly resolved.

“Dude,” he said in a deep but trembling voice. “Some privacy please?”

I turned away, and he pulled on the cape quickly.

Keeping my back to him, I said, “No one’s supposed to be back here after close so I…”

“I couldn’t find the restroom I changed in this afternoon, so I thought I could get changed here,” he said, his voice precise and his tone formal and embarrassed. If he had called me on the phone I would have thought I was speaking with a college professor or a government official, not a tatted-up stud who looked like he could walk in New York Fashion Week designer shows.

“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you like that…”

“Of course not,” he said. “I apologize for startling you…”

“I hate to be nosy,” I said. I didn’t but it was the polite thing to say before being nosy, wasn’t it? “Your accent is very … unusual.”

He laughed and said, “I grew up in Switzerland, but my parents are American, and I went to boarding school in England for a while…”

“Okay, now I have to ask,” I said, unable to stifle a laugh. “How did you end up wearing a Santa suit here with a background like that…”

“You’d regret asking that if it was a tragic tale,” he said softly, before laughing. “Luckily for you it’s just a bit funny. My mother’s friend’s family owns a string of stores and … long story short, my mother decided to punish me by volunteering me to come out and play Santa!”

“Why would she want to do that?” I asked.

“I left the family business to work on an acting and modeling career,” he said. “It’s been a slow start,” he added with a laugh. After a second he added, “So if you could give me like five minutes, I can get dressed and get out of your hair, or…”

“Or?” I asked.

“Or you could help me get back at my mom,” he said. 

I looked over my shoulder and caught his mischievous grin. “How would … we, uhm, be doing that?”

“Did you like what you saw when you pulled back the curtain?” he asked with a sultry gaze that traveled down my body.

“Uhm,” I said, gulping. “I uhm…”

“Get in here then,” he said with a wicked grin.

I hesitated just a moment, then stepped into the booth with him and closed the curtain behind me.

“Good boy,” he whispered, dropping the hand which was the only thing holding the Santa cape closed.

“How exactly does this help you get back at your mom?” I asked hoarsely.

“She didn’t want me to enjoy it, for one,” he said. “And when I tell her I got laid in the changing room—”

“I need this job,” I said nervously. “I can’t—”

He put a finger to my lips to silence my protests. 

“Don’t worry!” he said. “It’ll never come back to you… Is there even anyone else in the store?” 

“My manager is closing the books for tonight and the police are coming to take a statement,” I said.

He maintained eye contact as he nodded, but his hand wandered down his rock-hard abs to his already rising cock.

“I mean … I definitely understand,” he said. “But I’m really horny, and I think you’re really cute … so it doesn’t have to take forever if you’re in a hurry…”

Fuck, I thought.

“I mean, if you want to just taste it,” he said, and put his hand on my shoulder. 

He applied the slightest pressure and before I realized it I was on my knees. I looked up to find him looking down at me hungrily, his cock getting harder still and throbbing inches from my face as our eyes met.

“Good boy,” he said, his tone warm and encouraging, running his hand through my hair and drawing me closer. 

I opened my mouth and licked the drop of precum from the tip of his dick, making him moan softly. I felt his fingers close, taking firm hold on a fistful of my hair and tugging. I looked up at him again, our eyes meeting as his cock slid into my mouth, my tongue caressing the underside of his cock. I moaned around his dick, my eyes letting him know I was his.

God his body was beautiful, the stark elegance of the black of the tattoos across his lower abdomen were mesmerizingly beautiful. I found myself trying to decipher them as I began to work his dick hungrily. 

In response, he gave my hair another soft pull and whispered, “Look up at me… You have beautiful eyes.”

I moaned again as our eyes locked, and this time I maintained eye contact as I began to bob back and forth slowly.

“Good boy,” he said again, releasing my hair and caressing my cheek softly. “You’re so fucking gorgeous … especially on your knees for me…”

I wondered if this was just part of his sex talk. It was hard for me to believe someone like him would find someone like me attractive, much less beautiful! In fact, hearing it made me blush—and I was sucking Santa’s dick in a changing room at work, so I had very little shame left.

“Are you gonna give up your ass for me, sexy?” he asked, running his hand around to the back of my head and getting a firm grip as he began to fuck my face with long slow strokes.

I nodded as best I could, and he grinned, teasing me saying, “Someone’s on the good side of my naughty list…” 

Then he pulled me off his cock and urged me to my feet, his strong arms helping me up. He kissed me hungrily as his hand slipped down the back of my pants—a tight fit since my belt was still on. 

He squeezed my ass cheek and growled, “Fuck that’s a fine ass… I can’t wait to get my face between those cheeks…”

“Fuuuck,” I whispered as he squeezed the other cheek now, digging into the soft skin and tight stair-stepped muscle beneath as if he already owned it.

“Mr. D’Angelo?” a distant, commanding man’s voice called. “Officer Vickers here… I need to get your statement! 

“I’ll be right there,” I said. “I’m just helping our store Santa out of his boots!”

“Yes, sir,” the man said. “Make it quick, please… it’s a busy night out there…” 

“Of course,” I said, mouthing an apology to the sexy man in front of me. “Can you wait?”

He shook his head. 

“Fuck,” I mumbled, staring longingly down at the painfully erect, veiny member poking me in the leg and streaking my pants with precum. 

“You’d better go, uhm … Mister D’Antonio,” he teased.

Pointing to my name tag saucily, I said, “Tyler!”

He smirked, and I had to ask, “And you are?”

“Sexy Santa,” he said with a teasing laugh, knowing I was growing more anxious every second I left the cop waiting and risked him coming to look for me.

“Alright,” I said, stepping away and shaking off his grasp with more emotion than I realized I felt. There was a deep hurt in my chest as I said, “Too bad we won’t get to finish this…” Then I turned to go.

“Tyler!” He called, his voice warm and comforting again. His hand landed on shoulder gently and between two fingers was a card, the one he handed out in auditions, I guessed as his agent’s name was also on it. “Matt Corvin…”

I turned to face him, slipping the card into my pocket. I was angry that I had gotten so emotional about the brush off but the whole encounter had been so charged, so heavy in some way, to be dismissed so carelessly had shocked my system. I hated that he saw me wipe a tear off the corner of my eye.

“It’s not something I just say,” he said. “I noticed you the moment I entered this store… and I’d very much like to continue this when we have time and privacy to do it right. Maybe after dinner tomorrow night?”

My chin must have hit the floor, I was so slack jawed.

With a shy look he asked, “Did I screw up that bad, or misread the room so—“

I kissed him, then smiled and hurried off, probably looking like I’d gotten the best Santa gift of my life. But I needed to play with this one a little more to see If it can truly live up to expectations!

“Sorry officer!” I called with one last grin over my shoulder at Santa, who was hurriedly dressing now. “On my way!”

 

©2021 Jay Gordon

 

For more erotica by Jay Gordon, visit Amazon.com!

by Jay Gordon

“Hi, could I speak to Carl?” Richard said, trying not to get angry with the receptionist as he waited. This was the third time today he had tried to get in touch with his contractor. Twice he had left messages which had not yet been returned.

“Can I take a message?” the woman asked. “I’m afraid Mr. Duncan is—”

“I don’t care if Mr. Duncan is in Peru,” Richard said, losing his cool instantly. “When I hired him as contractor for this job, I had every expectation the job would be done right. The work was supposedly finished last week, and I went the whole weekend and the first half of this week without a fucking shower. Now I’ve already left two messages TODAY, and I will NOT—”

“Hello?” a man’s voice said, interrupting the angry tirade.

“Hello,” Richard barked in answer. “Who is this?”

“I’m Tyler Duncan,” the young man on the other end said. “Carly called me over and said she had an angry customer on the line… Perhaps you can tell me what’s going on, and we can get you all taken care of?”

Tyler’s voice was soft and soothing, deep and mellow. Richard thought he sounded sexy. Probably was. Carl was pretty hot for an older fellow, and his son couldn’t be far from Richard’s own age.

“Sir?” Tyler asked.

“Huh?” Richard said dumbly, embarrassed he had lost track of the conversation.

“What’s been going on?” Tyler asked.

“You guys did a bathroom renovation for me—a condo I’m trying to flip—and the work was finished last Thursday. Friday morning, the shower wasn’t working,” Richard explained. “No one returned my calls, and I went the whole weekend without a working shower. Now it’s Wednesday, no one has returned my calls, and I’ve been having to go to friends houses just to get clean!”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” Tyler said. “I’ve been covering my father’s desk—he had to leave town suddenly for a cousin’s funeral—and I haven’t seen any messages on his—”

“Oh,” Richard said, “I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t mean to be insensi—”

“Oh, I never met the man,” Tyler say. “He and my dad were close as kids, I guess but … anyway, neither here nor there…. I’m looking around, I just don’t see any messages. Who did you leave word with?”

“Well, until today I’ve just been leaving voicemail on a direct number,” Richard said.

“What number?” Tyler asked. When Richard told him, Tyler chuckled and said, “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s my dad’s personal cell… No one but him checks that and … well, I guess he’s been distracted with family—”

“Oh, of course,” Richard said. “I should have called the company directly… I just figured since he was the owner, I might get faster—”

“Usually that would be true,” Tyler said. “I can send someone out this morning… What time is good?”

“I can be home by 10:30 or so to let someone in, but I’ve got to run to some meetings, so I won’t be able to stay,” Richard replied.

That’s totally fine,” Tyler said. “All our guys are dependable…”

---

Richard answered the door to find a tall, dark, handsome man in fancy jeans and a button-up shirt, holding a toolbox in his right hand that looked like it might strain a college linebacker’s muscles.

“Come on in,” Richard said nervously, stepping out of the way. He had liked all of Carl’s guys who had worked on the job, but none of them made him tingle below the beltline or looked like they belonged on a runway modeling nothing but underwear either. “Are you the guy Tyler sent to fix the shower?”

“Yes, sir!” the man said, chuckling at the look Richard was giving him. He boldly gave Richard an appraising looking over as well, tit for tat.

Richard thought he had been caught and taught a lesson—he didn’t realize the man before him enjoyed the occasional boys’ night in himself. And this man liked slightly older otters with a runner’s build best of all. Richard was right up his alley. Or could be if he played his cards right, he figured.

“He told you I’d be out most of the afternoon?” Richard asked. “What time do you think you’ll be finished?”

The man nodded and said, “I was informed! What time will you be home?”

“Right around 3 is my best guess,” Richard said to the contractor.

“Should be finishing up around then!” the man said, writing out his number on a note pad and handing the paper to Richard. “Give me a call when you’re on your way and I’ll make sure we aren’t in your way, even if we aren’t finished…”

“We?” Richard asked.

“Well, if any other guys get free, I might get some help,” the man said. “I’m not holding my breath though…”

“Cool,” Richard said, grabbing his bag. “Thanks for getting out here so quick! I’ll be back in a bit…”

When he was alone, Tyler smiled. He wasn’t surprised Richard hadn’t recognized his voice—in real life his Southern accent came out, while on the phone he had a very neutral sound. This job had just taken an interesting turn, Tyler thought, making his way to the bathroom.

After spending an hour or so checking a few obvious problems, Tyler turned off the water to the shower and walked through Richard’s bedroom toward the sliding glass door. The access to the main line and crawl space to access the underfloor plumbing was behind a little grate just outside and to the left.

As he walked past Richard’s closet, he peered inside. He could say it was an accidental glance, but he was just being nosey. He had even turned on the light. It was unprofessional, but the picture he had concocted of himself fucking Richard had replaced professionalism in his mind’s eye.

There were two big dildos on a shelf, he saw and smiled, before flipping the light back off. Either Richard was a big ol’ freak in the best way for a straight boy, or he was a big ol’ bottom in the best way for Tyler.

Tyler opened the grate and shined his light at the pipes running under the floor, finding the plumbing that serviced the new bathroom. He’d have to crawl in there to check and see if things had been connected correctly, but there was a puddle of mud beneath the bathroom, hinting that everything might not be up to snuff.

Looking down at his designer jeans then at his watch, Tyler decided to take his shirt and pants off and leave them on the bed, then climb under the floor in just his boxers. That way his outer clothes, at least, would stay clean, at least.

A few minutes later, the muscular, boxer-clad contractor was army-crawling beneath the floor. He soon was rolling around in the mud like a pig, but quickly found and solved the issue with the plumbing, which he hoped meant the shower would now work properly.

Once he slid back out from beneath the floor, he stood next to the wall, hidden from all but the immediate next-door neighbors’ upstairs window, and let the wettest of the mud drip from him for a moment. He wished he had a towel. Instead, he hopped up and down, trying to shake more off. At last thought, he walked over to the glass door and made a dash across the bedroom—the floor of which thankfully was hardwood—to the bathroom.

He immediately turned on the water in the big, walk-in shower and then grabbed the knobs controlling the water to the rainforest shower. It sprang to life immediately. He sighed in relief when the water warmed and drained appropriately. Then he stepped beneath the soothing, hot water, which cascaded over him and began dissolving the mud that had begun to dry in cakes on his body. His hands roamed his muscular form, aiding the process.

His eyes closed, Tyler imagined the hands were Richard’s and his dick sprang to life. Looking down, he murmured, Don’t have time for this… Need to get clean and get out of here.

Because he was in the shower, he didn’t get Richard’s message that he would be home in five minutes.

Tyler closed his eyes again and reached up to the top shelf, grabbing for a bottle of body wash. He missed, and when his hand slipped past the bottle, it closed on something else.

It took a second, but his eyes snapped open in recognition. He held in his hand a long black rod punctuated by five increasingly large balls: Richard’s anal beads! And these weren’t the amateur model you got at stores that sold gag gifts for bachelorette parties. This was the model that made experienced gay bottoms concentrate hard.

Tyler sat the beads aside and grabbed the body wash, stepping out of the spray so he could lather up his gorgeous, tan muscles. The shower was loud enough that Tyler didn’t hear the door open and close in the living room. It was also loud enough that Richard happily went to see a demonstration of his new, now-working shower.

“What the—” Richard exclaimed as he walked in and was paralyzed by the sight of the six-foot plus adonis covered in suds in his shower.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Tyler said. “I can explain—”

“Based on the muddy footprints from the door and your clothes on my bed,” Richard said, beginning to chuckle, “I think it’s pretty clear…”

“I thought I’d have time to get myself clean and then take care of your floor before you—”

And then Tyler remembered he was naked and was supposed to cover himself because you’re supposed to be embarrassed when you get caught naked in a house that’s not your own. Especially one you’re not supposed to be naked in. He did put a hand in front of himself but didn’t really try to cover anything.

“You really should try it out,” Tyler said finally. “Water’s great now…”

“Uhm, I mean, when you’re done,” Richard began to mutter.

“Sure, but,” Tyler said coyly, doing everything short of batting his eyelashes. “I could use some help the mud on my back.”

When Richard still hesitated, Tyler grabbed the anal beads and said, “I tried your back massager, but it wasn’t much help with that…”

Richard stepped into the shower stall, which could probably have held six comfortably, with all his clothes on. He wasn’t close enough to get wet but had to stop himself before he did.

“That’s not a back massager,” Richard said in a slight panic.

Tyler laughed and said, “I know where they go! I was teasing you.”

Richard again looked frozen.

“Look man, this was all an accident,” Tyler said. “But here we are. You’re gay or bi, and I’m naked in your shower and at your disposal if you want. Consider it … a perk to keep a customer happy after a bad experience…”

“Tyler and Carl must pay you well,” Richard said, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves,” Tyler said, reaching out to shake comically with the hand that had been in front of his now rock-hard penis. “I’m Tyler!”

“Oh,” Richard said, taking the hand. “You know me, then… But I guess that means you do owe me a little bit of compensation!” He added the last with a teasing laugh, then hurried to get his clothes off.

When Richard was naked, the powerfully built younger man pulled him beneath the water and kissed him, guiding Richard’s hand to Tyler’s increasingly massive cock.

“I know where those anal beads go,” Tyler whispered. “Which means I know where I think you’d like this…”

“Mmm, yes,” Richard groaned, squeezing the cock in his hand.

“Hard and fast, or slow and sweet?” Tyler asked.

In answer, Richard spun around and put his hands on the wall, arching his back and pressing back against Tyler with his ass.

“Hard and fast it is,” Tyler said. “Lube?”

“Spit,” Richard said simply.

Tyler leaned over and licked and probed Richard with his tongue, loosening the man up. Then he applied more spit with his hand before lining his cockhead up with the pink pucker and shoving in hard. Richard groaned in pain and pleasure, then reached back with one hand to grab Tyler’s hip and hold him still.

Tyler felt Richard loosen up, and when the man removed his hand, Tyler pulled back an inch or two, gave two or three shallow pumps, then drove the rest of his thick eight inches into the man before him. Richard gasped, emptying his lungs hard.

Then Richard sucked in a breath and said, “Fuck me, jock boy!”

Tyler took the order to heart and pounded Richard’s hole until the friction became almost uncomfortable. By this point he was pulling all the way out and burying his whole cock in Richard on every pump.

At least, Tyler groaned breathily and asked, “Ass or mouth?”

Richard pulled away from Tyler and in one smooth move turned while falling to his knees. He wrapped his hand around Tyler’s cock and kept pumping, holding the head in his mouth.

Moments later, thick ropes of cum shot into his mouth almost faster than Richard could swallow. Almost.

When he had sucked every last drop from his contractor’s son’s hard dick, Richard smiled up at Tyler, past the washboard abs, and said, “You can work on my plumbing whenever you feel like it!”

©2021 Jay Gordon

 

For more erotica by Jay Gordon, visit Amazon.com!