Sketch #8 - New Boots
“They’re very comfortable, sir, I promise you’ll love wearing these boots once you get used to them.”
“I’d really prefer something cheaper,” Bill said, but the young man—Trey, according to his name tag—kept turning the boot over in his hand so Bill could see it from every angle. They were great looking boots, and he loved the deep black of the leather, but they’d be dusty after one day on the construction site—not to mention they’d be worn thin by the end of the summer. “They’re too nice to wear for work anyway.”
“They’re tougher than they look, sir. How long do your usual boots last? A season? These will last you two or three years, especially if you maintain them well.”
“I’m not very good at maintenence.”
“Well, I’d be happy to give you some pointers, sir—I mean, if you’d like.”
Trey smiled up at him—he was a few inches shorter than Bill, and a bit rounded. Not exactly fat—but soft in all the right places—and from the way he was eyeing Bill, his eyes flicking down to his crotch and back up again, he had a thing for him as well.
The silence lasted a bit longer than either of them had intended, but Bill relented. “Alright, I guess I can try them on at least.”
“Thirteen and a half—wide.”
Trey hurried off to find the size, and Bill sat down on the bench, slipping his tennis shoes off. He glanced around the store again, but he was still the only customer—and there was only one other employee, a young woman bored at the register, immersed in her phone. Trey came back with a box. “I only have a fourteen wide, but this boot tends to run a bit small—do you still want to try it on sir?”
“Sure, can’t hurt I suppose.” He didn’t really have any intention of actually buying the boots of course, but Trey seemed absolutely pleased as he got down on one knee and slid one boot onto Bill’s foot.
“How does that feel?”
It did feel amazing.
“Pretty good,” Bill said.
“Do you want to try the other one on?”
Bill gave a shrug of no commitment, and Trey slid the second boot on.
“Nice, right? And they fit really well. Go on, walk around and them, and tell me they aren’t the nicest boots you’ve tried on.”
Bill gave a sigh—he really didn’t want to spend the money, but he stood up and gave a walk for Trey, and then sat back down. “They’re really nice boots—but they’re still too nice for me to wear to work.”
“If you take care of them, they’ll last just fine.”
“I’m not really—”
“Or—” Trey said, and then looked a bit embarrassed. Bill thought it was because he’d interrupted him, but no, he was looking past Bill, towards his coworker, still at the register, her back to them both. “Or I could help you, sir, if you’d like…”
Bill cocked an eyebrow, and then saw the erection in Trey’s jeans that he should have noticed, but before he could say anything, Trey was on hands and knees, rubbing his face against the side of the boot, letting out a soft moan. Bill froze on the bench, heart pounding, watching Trey rub his cheek against the leather, and then lick it, leaving a shine trail of spit behind him. “Stop—stop! What are you doing?” Bill managed to hiss down, and Trey immediately sat back on his heels.
“You’re hard, sir.”
“We can go into the backroom, right there—”
“I’m not, I mean—”
Trey was up then, and he said, “Yeah, those are a bit big, let me check again for that thirteen and a half,” and he slipped back behind the curtain, leaving Bill there, still frozen in place, cock hard in the front of his jeans. He was actually thinking about it. How could he be thinking about this?
He stood up. The boots still felt odd on his feet, the heels pushing him up, his posture a bit higher than usual. He caught himself in a mirror on the wall, and wondered what Trey saw in him. All he saw was a rough laborer, a bit of a gut but bulging with working muscle, beard and hair a few months untrimmed—there was no one in his life to trim it for, really. The boots looked good on him—or did he look good in the boots? He walked as quietly as he could, but the boots forced out a thud on the hardwood anyway, as he ducked into the back, and he found Trey there in the bleak light of the halogens, head bowed. With the boots, Bill was slightly taller than him, or was Trey just hunching over slightly?
They just stood there for a few moments, Bill unsure of what was happening, slowly realizing that Trey was expecting something from him, some action? Stance? Command? His voice was caught in his throat, but his cock was hard, and he fumbled with the fly, pulling it out so Trey could see it, but still he did nothing, just stood there. He was looking at it though, he wanted it, and Bill wanted him to do it—
“You have a nice cock, sir.”
Bill didn’t know how to take that, so he stayed silent.
“What would you like me to do sir?”
Wasn’t it obvious? Bill fidgeted, he felt himself go a bit soft from the cold shop air, from uncertainty, from disbelief. “You…you know…”
Trey said nothing—he wanted Bill to say it, no, he wanted to hear Bill say it.
Trey fell to his knees, and before Bill could do anything he had his mouth wrapped around his cock, and Bill grabbed the back of his head, ran his fingers through Trey’s hair, thrusting, feeling more at ease but something still felt off, like Trey was still waiting for a command, and Bill found himself working a bit harder than he usually would have, leading the way, thrusting a bit more than Trey was sucking, but it worked out in time, and Trey swallowed his cum down as he shuddered, trying to stay quiet.