The Sales Clerk Closed the Store Just for Me

The display window stopped me in the middle of the sidewalk. Between cotton boxers and classic briefs, someone had placed a single men’s thong, almost hidden, as if it were part of the décor by accident. On the other side of the glass, the women’s section was in full color, shameless. The men’s seemed to be asking permission to exist.

It was a Tuesday afternoon at the end of August, one of those days when the asphalt turns elastic under your soles. The city had emptied out. People were at the beach or at the village fiestas, and the few souls left were moving slowly, seeking shade like lizards. The whole street looked like the set of a post-apocalyptic film.

That particular garment caught my eye because I always wore snug briefs, almost the same size. I thought there couldn’t be that much difference between one and the other. I thought a thong was simply less fabric. I was wrong.

The shop was small and smelled of new cloth. The garments were piled up in almost no order, as if whoever arranged them preferred chaos to inventory. I expected to find a girl behind the counter; that would have been the logical thing in a place like that. Instead, there was a guy about my age, elbows on the glass and eyes on his phone.

He looked up when I came in, and the truth was he wasn’t just anyone. Tousled brown hair, very light green eyes, a fitted white T-shirt that outlined discreet but present pecs. He greeted me with a smile that seemed too slow to be purely professional.

“You’re imagining things, Iván,” I thought. “The heat is frying your neurons.”

I wasn’t exactly the height of elegance myself, with my flip-flops, my shortened bermuda shorts, and a tank top that had seen better seasons. Even so, I felt his gaze following me through the store. Not the look of someone afraid of a robbery. Something else.

I planted myself in front of the shelf I was looking for. I knew men’s thongs and jockstraps existed, of course. I’d seen them in some more or less pornographic film, in magazines, in ads. But knowing that and having the whole display in front of you were two very different things. Black, red, shiny blues, some with wide straps, others with barely a thread. Each packet showed the photo of a muscled model posing with the garment on inside. They practically forced you to compare.

I must have stood there a good while, because soon enough I heard him coming up beside me.

“My name’s Adrián,” he said, and I caught his perfume when he stood next to me. “You look a little lost. Want some help?”

“Iván,” I replied. “Honestly, yes. I’ve never tried any of this. I know they exist and that’s about it.”

He picked up a black thong from the display and held it between his fingers as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“I’m surprised you’ve never worn one. You’ve got the body for it,” and, without blinking, “a beautiful body, I’d say.”

I held his gaze a second longer than was reasonable. He didn’t look away.

“Tell me the differences,” I asked, pretending to focus on the merchandise.

“Aside from the obvious, the back strap can bother you or you can like it. It depends on a lot of things, not just the fabric. They’re surprisingly comfortable. You notice it once you’ve worn one for a while.”

“Do you wear them?”

He smiled. A lopsided smile, his tongue brushing his teeth.

“I’m wearing one right now.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course.”

He undid the button on his jeans and pulled them down a little. A very narrow black waistband crossed his hips, almost like an eyelash. Beneath it, his bronzed skin, with no tan lines. He’d been sunbathing naked; there was no other explanation.

“I like it,” I said, deliberately leaving it ambiguous whether I meant the thong or the other thing.

He buttoned himself back up slowly, never taking his eyes off me.

“You’ve got me intrigued,” I added. “I want to see more.”

“You really want to see the whole thing?”

“Of course. To get an idea of how it would look on me.”

“My, what a demanding customer.”

“I’m curious, not demanding.”

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll show you how it looks on me, and you try it on in front of me.”

“Perfect. But we’ll need some privacy.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody comes in at this hour. I’ll pull the shutter and no one will bother us.”

***

When he passed by me to go to the door, I stopped thinking. I grabbed him by the waist and kissed him. I nibbled his lips with mine, slowly at first, and he answered without a second’s hesitation. His tongue searched for mine. His hands closed over my ass as if they’d been waiting all day.

I let him go only so he could get to the shutter. I heard him lower it halfway, just enough so that from outside it would look closed for the siesta and not for something more interesting. When he came back, he took me by the hand and led me to the fitting rooms. They were spacious, with a thick carpet that smelled of air freshener, a padded bench, and a three-sided mirror. Along the way he grabbed a couple of thongs and a couple of jockstraps. I’d bet he chose the smallest ones in the display.

“You stay outside,” I told him when we got there. “Watch me from there.”

“Just watch?”

“For now.”

Adrián was a born salesman. He was more interested in the idea of watching me undress than in making a sale. And I was liking the game, drawing it out, leaving him hungry.

With the curtain open, I started taking my clothes off slowly. First the T-shirt, pulling it over my head with a languid gesture, letting him see the tan on my chest. Then the bermuda shorts, which fell onto the carpet without a sound. I stayed a while in my boxers, deliberately. The snug cotton outlined everything that was already hard underneath, angled off to one side.

I saw him bite his lip. I saw him breathe a little harder.

Without warning, I pulled my boxers all the way down. I stood naked in the middle of the fitting room. My dick, shaved and hard, sprang up freely. I bent down to pick up the black thong he’d handed me.

“I love how it looks on you,” he said, even before I put it on. “And I’m not talking about the thong.”

I slid the garment up my thighs, savoring it. The two-finger waistband circled my waist with ease. I pulled my cheeks apart with one hand to position the back strap and then tried to fit my cock into the little fabric that promised to contain it. No chance. The head peeked over the waistband, throbbing.

“I think I’ve got a technical problem.”

“I think I can help.”

I gestured for him to come over. He came slowly, tugging his T-shirt upward, revealing a hairless, pale torso, with two small pink nipples that had already gone stiff just from crossing the room.

“You’re making it even harder for me,” I said.

“That’s the idea.”

We kissed again, this time with more rage. I pressed his wiry body against mine, feeling his chest cold against my hot skin. His tongue went in and out without asking permission. My hands went down to squeeze his ass through the jeans. I fumbled the button open and tugged his pants down to his thighs.

The thong he was wearing was blue, with a discreet sheen, held up by two black cords tied at the hips. A tiny triangle of fabric that no longer hid even half of his cock, slim, long, shaved, veins standing out. It was as hard as mine.

“That looks about ready to burst too,” I said.

I slipped my hand inside his thong, searching for his balls. The fabric only covered those, soft, shaved, full. He let out a first moan against my neck, beside the ear he was licking. I whispered to him:

“I can’t wait to take it off you. The thong, I mean.”

“The way you’re gripping my cock, I don’t believe you.”

He tugged mine down. The elastic slid along my thighs and I let him. He took my dick in his other hand, stroking it slowly, as if measuring it. Then he started to go down. His mouth moved over my chest, my nipples, the center of my sternum, my navel, the strip of hair ending at my pubis.

When he took my cock all the way into his mouth, the moan that escaped me was mine. Deep. Adrián sucked patiently, as if he had the whole summer. He ran his tongue up and down the shaft, lingered on the glans, spat on it, swallowed me again. He made me put one foot on the padded bench so he could suck my balls from below, and he ran his tongue over my perineum, sliding it back.

“This is very tasty,” he murmured.

“What you’re doing is tasty.”

His hands spread my ass cheeks apart. I knew what was coming. The tip of his tongue pressed into my hole, hard and precise, and started moving in circles. I opened my legs wider, leaned forward a little with my hands on the mirror, and let him do it. He had me completely worked up. His other hand never let go of my cock, coating it with saliva and slow tugs.

I saw him seated on the carpet when I turned around. His own cock was pointing at the ceiling, jerking against his belly every time he breathed.

“Can I?” I asked.

“If you stop now, you’ll ruin my whole day.”

“That’s exactly what I’m aiming for. After you fuck me.”

I leaned enough to spit onto the head of his cock, letting it drip down slowly from my mouth. I bent my knees and lowered myself onto him, unhurried, opening myself carefully over his shaft. He held me by the ass so I wouldn’t drop down too fast. I took him in centimeter by centimeter until I settled my ass on his thighs. I could feel our balls brushing together.

“Fuck,” he said through clenched teeth.

I started moving up and down, first slowly, letting my body get used to his. He licked my nape, nibbled my shoulder, held my hips and set the rhythm. I braced my hands on his knees and sped up. I could feel him all the way inside, hitting a spot that made me hold my breath every time it brushed it.

We didn’t stop until he came. I felt the hot spurts inside me and a long moan against my nape. He lifted me so he could pull out, turned me around, and went back to burying his face between my cheeks. He licked me again, with his own semen dripping, and that was what made me cum. The spurts landed on his chest and belly. He gathered what was dripping with his fingers and took it into his mouth.

I leaned down and shared that kiss from his tongue to mine.

***

“I’ve got my favorite place to buy underwear now,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “As long as the service is this personalized.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to fuck me?”

“Do we have time?”

“Depends how fast you can get hard again.”

“With you, I don’t think it’ll take long.”

I said that while he hadn’t stopped touching it. His fingers played with the glans, with the balls, while his tongue cleaned my neck. In a few minutes it was pointing at the ceiling again as if the first time had just been a warm-up.

“Put the thong back on,” I asked him.

Adrián slipped back into the blue one, the one with the thinner cords. And he slowly sank down onto the carpet, wanton, calculated, until he was on all fours in front of me. The triangle of fabric covered almost nothing. I moved it aside with a finger and spat between his cheeks, spreading the saliva with my hand. I started slipping a finger into his hole to loosen him up, while he moaned with his cheek pressed to the carpet.

“Now it’s my turn,” I said.

I rested the head of my cock against his entrance and pushed slowly. It didn’t take much to open him up. My hands closed over his narrow waist and I started moving. Watching his ass open with every thrust left me breathless. He tightened around me, letting himself be fucked with a looseness that told me this wasn’t the first time he’d closed the store with a customer.

“Grab my cock,” he asked.

I leaned over his back, kissed his shoulder, licked his nape, and slipped my hand under his hip to jack him off in the rhythm of my fucking. We were both breathing like animals. The carpet would be stained, there was no other possibility.

Adrián came before I did, moaning against the floor, clamping down even harder on me. I finished shortly after, emptying myself inside him, with my forehead resting between his shoulder blades.

We collapsed, him underneath me, me still kissing his shoulder and nape with all the desire I had left.

***

He had to reopen the store and neither of us had eaten lunch. Seeing that no one was going to come in that afternoon either, I walked to the corner bar with the new thong on and came back with two sandwiches. We ate them behind the counter, laughing under our breath every time the little bell rang and it turned out to be only the wind.

I left there in midafternoon, with a paper bag in my hand and Adrián’s phone in my pocket. It was clear where I was going to buy my underwear from then on. And it was clear that summer wasn’t over yet.