SHORT SHORTS by Tonig73

Fetish ? What Fetish ...

Warning  --  Description of sexual clothing, acts, fluff and mush.

Larry stood in front of his gilded and extravagant full length mirror.  

"You look fucking amazing"  he told his reflection.  There he stood, tall and proud, in all his glory.  All 6' 4" of him, all lean, taught muscles, and long muscular legs.  A huge fro and chocolate drowning pools for eyes.  But none of that, well, a little, is what caught the observers eye.  What caught the eye was how this tall lanky golden skinned Adonis looked in his favourite freaky get up.  Let's start at the bottom.

The boots.  The high heeled, black patent leather boots that sensually grazed his thighs.  The black leather banana hammock that cupped his more than ample banana deliciously, just waiting for someone to peel back the casing and eat him.  A black leather harness that crossed his chest, showcasing dark brown nubs, and a smooth, hairless chest.  A matching studded collar that wrapped around the column like throat.  He was clean shaven, beards and goatees just got in the way when he ate, and required too much after care, he found.  His afro sprung from his head like static fireworks.  His eyes sparkled in the dim light.  He was excited.  He was always excited when he got dressed up likes a whore's dinner for a new client.  He particularly liked the boots.  He might keep them on later, when he could attend to his own wants and desires.  

Larry was a high priced, elite, very in demand call boy.  A fetishist, he specialized in more than slightly deviant fetish wants and desires, and he was very good at what he did.  Probably known as pansexual, he would fuck anything except something that had four legs, and would be fucked by anything, and, ditto.  Tonight, his bank account would be $5,000 the better, for just a few hours work.  His clients tonight, a very well-to-do suburban couple, asked that he be a dom with a kinky twist, hence the boots and the riding crop, 

And ohhh, he loved his crop.  The feel of the hard leather in his hand, the sound it made as it connected with soft, unaware virgin skin.  The blushing red welts it left in it's wake.  The raised skin he would gently run his fingertips along, push his plush lips against to kiss it all better, only to punish that skin over and over again.  The goosebumps it raised along said skin, as he teasingly swept it along and arm or a leg, a groin or a throat, over and around another dick, or intruding into a warm and wet orifice.  His own too, he worshiped the crop with his own body often.  He loved this, he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do.  Well except, maybe one other thing.  

He threw a floor length black leather coat over his shoulders, the theme for the night, it seemed.  He swept away from the mirror, gathering the few things he would need.  Tonight was about him, and only him.  His two subs would do exactly as they were told, it's what they wanted after all.  

He teetered on his heels for a second, stopping to regain his balance, breathing out a cleansing, controlled breath.  

--  Shit  --  he thought to himself, --  How the fuck I'm gonna drive in these bitches, I have no idea  -- 

He just hoped he wouldn't step on the gas by mistake, and end up in someones living room.  Now, that would make for some interesting headlines in the local rag the next morning.  

Leather clad sex worker crashes through elderly couples window as they watch T.V.

Accompanied by a photo of granny, her arm gripped tightly around Larry's waist, a hand roaming south towards his bare ass, (the banana hammock was a thong, by the way), grinning up at him hopefully.  Grandpa more than a little flummoxed on the other side of him.