Dirty Little Boxer Boy
By Ryan Field

During my freshman year of college I took a part time job as an attendant in a small tanning salon. A rather unfortunate place with depressing, brown carpets, but good, clean work that allowed plenty of time to study between customers, most of whom were middle aged women with too much time on their hands. I would have preferred a part time job in a men’s clothing store, helping guys choose the right socks and underwear (I’d always been into loose boxer shorts---something so hot about the way they fall on men), but the tanning salon was close to the dorms and the job didn’t require much thought. Aside from all the female customers, it wasn’t a bad gig at all, except for the fact there was often too much free time. The months of September and October were slow; I was lucky to have two or three customers per day. And it was almost unthinkable to see a great looking guy in his early thirties decide to sign up for a month of tanning before a trip to Belize, Mexico.

But that’s what happened. It was a rainy Monday morning when Rick walked into the empty salon. I’d been studying for a chemistry quiz when I looked up to see a tall guy, with short, black hair, wearing a navy jogging suit, standing before me. His appearance was military; short dark hairs stuck to his temples with perspiration, five o’clock shadow in an almost greenish color and strong hands that moved in graceful motions when he spoke. He’d obviously just come from a morning run.

“I’m interested in tanning for about a month,” he said, “I’m a doctor, going to Belize on research, and I don’t want to burn down there. I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Do you think I can get a decent tan for the trip?”

I instantly dropped my chemistry notes and began to explain the tanning process to this hot looking guy. He had a rugged look, but soft brown eyes that reminded me of a puppy dog. Though his jogging suit was loose and it hung from his tall, rigid body, I knew there was really good stuff underneath. I liked the power he gave me: a young college student who knew nothing (except maybe how to suck dick to perfection) explaining something to a mature man of the world.

When I was finished with the sales pitch, and I knew he was going to sign up for a month of tanning, I then said, “You really should buy a tanning lotion. It will help you get a better tan, and it will moisturize your body. It’s really an important factor with indoor tanning.” I honestly did believe the lotions helped, too.

“Can you recommend something?” he asked, “You seem to have a great tan. I want what you use.”

“I use this,” I said, pulling a basic tanning lotion from a display on the counter, “It’s not expensive and it does the job, as you can see.” I stretched out my tanned arms. I only tanned about once a week, but I had the kind of skin that absorbed sunlight; just one twenty minute session made my ass as soft and brown as someone who’d done five of the same sessions. The way I looked was the main reason the owner of the salon had hired me. Though born and raised on the east coast, people always said I had a west coast surfer look.

“And I just apply this like any other tanning lotion?” he asked, handing me his credit card so that I could finalize the transaction.

“You try to get it all over your body,” I said, noticing that the head of his cock made a slight outline on the fabric of his jogging pants. “Even on your back.”
When the tanning sessions were charged to his credit card, and he’d filled out a customer record sheet, I told him to follow me to the tanning booth so that I could show him what to do. Though I was clearly attracted to him, it was all very businesslike.

Until he asked, as I was about to leave him alone in the tanning booth, “ Hey Buddy Boy, do you think you could help me apply the lotion? So I don’t make any mistakes.”

“Sure,” I said, “No problem. I’m not that busy today.”

He was about to get the massage of a lifetime; of that I was certain.

He removed the sweat shirt, exposing a well defined chest slightly covered with a rough carpet of jet black hair. In the center of his breastbone there was a black fluff that formed a narrow line of hair leading all the way down his lean abdomen, as though pointing in the direction of his dick. He then kicked off his running shoes and proceeded to yank off his damp sweat socks. As I stood there, watching him strip (he wasn’t self-conscious at all), I held the tanning lotion with no expression on my face. I wasn’t sure where this was leading. But then, when he quickly yanked his sweat pants down and pulled them off, revealing a rumpled pair of white cotton boxer shorts, I nearly fell to my knees. His legs were hairy and long and muscular and I wanted to bury my face in the white boxers…to lick them and sniff them and chew on them. I could see the outline of his rather large cock resting just beside the front opening. To an underwear pirate this was a dream; loose, well-worn, boxers begging to be sniffed and licked.

“I think I should put the lotion all over your body,” I said, trying not to sound too excited, “To show you the right way to do it.”

“If you say so Buddy Boy,” he replied, ready to yank the white boxers off too.

“No,” I suddenly shouted, hoping I hadn’t sounded desperate, “Don’t take off the boxers. Leave them on for the first few times you tan. You don’t want to burn in places that haven’t been exposed to the sun before.”

“Good thinking,” he said, placing his large hands on his waist.

Though it was the truth, and I didn’t want to burn his cute ass, my only thought at the moment was to keep him in those sexy boxer shorts as long as possible. And we both knew that something would happen; at the very least I’d suck him off.

“Just stand still and relax,” I told him, as I poured tanning lotion into the palms of my hands and knelt down in front of him. I slowly began with his large feet, working the smooth lotion between his toes and then up to his ankles with both my hands. I gently massaged (I wasn’t spreading it…I was slowly working him toward an erection) his legs, making sure it got past the body hair and into the skin.

“Damn, Buddy Boy,” he said, spreading his legs, “This feels so good. I should have come here a long time ago. Do you do this for all the customers?”

“No way,” I said, laughing, “You’re the first one ever.”

“How old are you? And what’s your name?” he asked.

“Nineteen, Joe,” I replied, “Now you lay down in the tanning bed and I’ll finish massaging the lotion on your body. I want to cover every inch of you, and it’s much more relaxed if you’re lying down.”

When he was flat on his back, in the tanning bed, I decided to strip down too.

“I don’t want to get lotion all over my clothes,” I said, as he watched me rip off my white tee-shirt and kick off my jeans. I took everything off, shoes, socks and underwear. I wanted to be on my knees, with my back arched, my ass in the air and my legs spread as wide as possible. The perfect invitation, I’d learned.

“You’ve got a great body, Buddy Boy, and I see that your tan is even in all the right places,” he said, as he reached up from the tanning bed and ran the rough palm of his left hand slowly down my ass. Then, with his thick middle finger, he slowly began to circle the opening of my ass. By that time my cock was rock hard.

I knelt down, while he continued to work his finger into my hole, and began to massage lotion onto his strong thighs. He must have been an avid runner; his thighs were like rocks. Not an ounce of flab anywhere.

“Now, just close your eyes and relax,” I whispered, my legs spread as wide as I could spread them, his finger now all the way up my ass, “I’m going to apply some lotion all the way up your strong legs, so that if the sun rays go through your boxers you won’t get burned.”

“You’re the expert, Buddy Boy.”

I poured more lotion into the palms of my hands and then slowly ran both hands up under the white boxers. I massaged lotion way up, into his groin area, while his large hairy balls rubbed against the front of my hands. As I did this I noticed that his cock was growing larger by the moment. Until all of a sudden the head began to pop through the front opening of the white boxers. Then, rather quickly, an eight inch erection was popping through, pulsing with each movement I made.

“Is that okay?” he asked, as he looked at me and then down at his huge hard dick, slowly finger fucking me into a delirious state of submission.

I smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that too.”

I buried my face in his white boxers. They were slightly sweaty from his morning run, but smelled like nectar from the gods. I licked the white cotton, working my tongue through the front opening, past the base of his hard cock, so that I could release his large hairy balls too. I sucked them both up, into my mouth, and slowly pulled them through the opening. For a moment, when his cock and his balls were sticking out of the opening, I took a quick look at them. Nothing, to me, is sexier that seeing a huge dick, and a large set of sweaty, funky balls, sticking out from a pair of white boxer shorts.

Slowly, while my hands clutched the white cotton on his shorts, I began to lick my way up the shaft of his dick toward the head. A large cock head, dripping with precum by that time.

Suddenly, just as I took the entire dick all the way down my throat and was about to begin the first sucking motions, a voice rang out, “Is anyone here?”

The voice was familiar. A woman customer who never missed a day of tanning.
But I thought fast. “I’m back here, Barbara, with an electrician,” I shouted, still licking his cock,” we had some trouble with your favorite tanning bed. It’ll be fixed in an hour or so. Why don’t you come back then.”

“Oh, okay,” I heard a voice shout, “I have some errands. I’ll come back.”

With his cock still standing and ready to burst, a finger as far up my ass as he could get, he whispered, “Good thinking, you naughty little boy.”

“Just relax,” I said, grabbing my own cock so I could shoot a load too, “This will only take another minute or so. You’re ready to explode.”

“Tell me about it,” he moaned, “I’d love to fuck you.”

“I wanna finish you off like this,” I said, “I really wanna suck you off.”

“Well how is this?” he said, as he slowly shoved two more fingers up my ass.

I wanted to say, “Oh fuck, call me BITCH,” but it was too soon for that.

“Fucking fantastic,” I moaned.

I returned to sniffing and licking his boxers for a moment. And then began some serious sucking motions on his dick. Not just licking, or moving my mouth up and down the shaft. That does nothing to a man. I sucked hard and fast, jerking my own cock the entire time. In no time he reached a point where his juice was ready to shoot. You can usually tell, during a good cocking sucking session, when they are ready to shoot a load because their legs start to wiggle, and their toes often curl.

“Ahhhhh,” was the only sound he made as he shot a full load of cum right into my mouth. I felt it hit the back of my throat, and I gulped and swallowed with pleasure.

I shot one too, all over the side of the tanning bed, while he fucked me with three fingers, never missing a beat.

Though he pulled his fingers out after we came, I kept his cock in my mouth for a while, not ready to release it until I knew he’d been completely drained and was ready to lie back and enjoy a relaxing tanning session. I didn’t torture him, knowing that the head of his cock would be sensitive after shooting a load. I simply kept it in my mouth, slowly sucking each last drop of his cum. I wanted to feel his meaty dick slowly go down against my tongue, and then gently suck his balls back into my mouth so that I could roll them into a state of complete relaxation. I knew from the way he gently caressed my head that he really liked this.

“That was fucking fantastic,” he whispered, as I released his floppy dick and neatly packed it back into his white boxers where it was safe and sound. Then I gently kissed the opening of the underwear, pilfering one last sniff for the road.

“I enjoyed it too,” I said, stepping back into my jeans, “Especially the white boxers. I love all boxer shorts, but white ones really get me hot.”

“Fuck, Buddy Boy,” he said, “I especially liked the way you drained me dry.”

“You tasted like candy,” I said, “Your cum is very sweet.”

“Damn!” He liked hearing that, I knew.

“Now, you relax and enjoy your first tanning session,” I told him, “I’ve got to get back to the front desk before someone else comes in. And you need to get some rest. You’ve had two workouts today…a long run and a good suck off.”

About twenty minutes later he returned to the reception counter where I was folding a few small towels. “Did I get any color?” He lowered his running pants so that I could see his black pubic hairs.

“It’s too soon to tell,” I told him, “But you should see something in about an hour, after you take a shower.”

“Cool,” he said, now acting slightly awkward, “Should I come in tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah,” I said, “I think you should come in every day until you go to Belize.”

“I think so too,” He said, as he headed for the exit, “I’ll see you same time tomorrow.”

“Great,” I said, “And, don’t forget that you probably should wear a pair of boxers the first few times.”

“Oh I won’t,” he laughed, “Tomorrow I’m going to wear a pair of light blue ones that are really loose and baggy. I’ll wear them for a while, so they won’t be too fresh and clean.”

I licked my lips. “That sounds perfect.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said, as he jaunted out the door.

When he was gone and I went back to clean his tanning bed, I noticed that he’d left his white boxers hanging from a hook near the door. Obviously intended for me. I slowly lifted them from the hook, placed them to my face and inhaled deeply, still in shock that I’d managed to fulfill one of my sacred fantasies that morning. How many people go through life without ever doing what they crave sexually? So many times I’d been with guys who were wearing underwear that I wanted to devour, but I always held back for fear they’d think I was peculiar.

As the weeks passed, Rick returned for his tanning session every day of the week, always wearing slightly used boxer shorts (he once wore a sweaty jock strap, and though I enjoyed chewing on it while he fucked me, I told him that I still preferred boxers). I quickly learned that he was strictly a top man; it was never a problem for either of us. He fucked my brains out and I couldn’t get enough of his cock. Sometimes he’d leave the boxer shorts on, with his cock popping from the opening, while he fucked me over the top of the tanning bed. And then sometimes (I liked this the most) he’d lie on his back, while I spread my legs and sat on his large cock, covering my head with his dirty boxers. I’d ride his dick while I chewed and sucked the fabric. He seemed to enjoy the fact that I was so into his underwear, and always left a pair for my collection when the fucking was finished. But he liked fucking me the most, claiming that my ass felt like velvet around his cock. He never used a condom (we’d both been tested, and swore monogamy to each other), never had to pull out and jack off to cum and always shot a full load up my ass, whether I was riding his cock or bent over while he nailed me to a wall or a floor or a door.

When it was time to leave for Belize, though we both knew it was only temporary, neither of us was happy about it. But he swore to e-mail me, and to send letters daily. We didn’t know about the future, and didn’t want to discuss it; there wasn’t time to do anything but fuck (and sniff boxer shorts) and we both knew that relationships aren’t formed on that alone. We’d deal with that when he returned from his trip. As a going away present I went down on my knees and I sucked him off, while he finger fucked my ass, just as we had done the first time, and promised to keep in touch.

Well, a week passed and I didn’t hear a word. He didn’t answer my e-mails and I began to assume that it was just a passing fling. And then one afternoon a package was delivered to the salon, addressed to me, with a Mexican return address. I quickly opened it and found a rumpled pair of white boxer shorts and a small note that read, “My e-mail’s been all fucked up, and it won’t be working until next week, but I wanted to send you something so that you won’t forget me. Have fun with these. I’m going to jack myself off tonight while I think about you sniffing them. I’m mailing a really sweaty, smelly pair next week….Love, Rick.”

Bio: Ryan Field is a freelance writer who lives in New Hope, Pennsylvania. His short stories, though names have been changed, are mostly based on personal experience.