A Stolen Quickie

by Christopher Stone
© 1999

I glanced over the wallets on the counter.  They put them there to keep people like me away from the expensive spoils.  I dropped two wallets on the ground and bent down to retrieve them.  One was returned, the other nestled in my tight briefs, its thick leather making friends with my hard-on.  I stayed for a moment so I didn’t look conspicuous and then turned to leave.  A large hand clamped itself to my shoulder and steered me away from the counter into an office in the back.  He sat me in a chair and I heard the door lock.

The man came around to face me and sat on the edge of his desk.  His blue jacket had the word “Security” stitched to the front pocket.  He was built like a fullback, huge muscles and a lean waist.  He had a sexy goatee which telegraphed and urgent message to my groin.  “Let’s have it,” he said.

I claimed I didn’t understand and he told me to stand up.  When I stalled he lifted me out of my seat and dipped his hand down the front of my pants.  His fingers searched around in my briefs and grabbed the wallet.  He pulled it out and then sniffed it.  “What do you know?” he said.  He told me to sit down and his crotch hovered in front of my face.  His thick muscle was barely concealed by the layer of cloth stretched over it.  He adjusted his cock, then sat down on the edge of his desk, legs parted.

“What are we going to do about this?” he asked.

“Maybe we can make pretend it never happened.”  I opened up my legs for him to get a nice view of my boner.  I dropped my hand next to it to outline the bribe for him.  He smiled.  “You kids don’t have anything I want,” he said.  He told me to get up and ordered me to take off my pants so he could make sure I hadn’t stolen anything else.  I did as I was told and my boner popped out of my underwear and bobbed beneath my tee shirt.

“That for me?” he asked with a smile.  I nodded.  He told me to turn around.  He massaged my ass with both hands and ran his finger along the cleft, toyed with my hole and then departed.  “Nothing here.  Take off your shirt.”  I dropped my tee shirt onto the chair and he went around the desk and came back with a Polaroid camera.  “What’s that for?” I asked.  “Evidence.”  He knelt down in front of me and snapped a couple of shots of the scene of the crime.  We watched the pictures of my hard-on develop and he smiled.  He put them in a drawer and locked it.  He came back, grabbed my dick in his thick paw and said, “I’m gonna let you go this time, but if I catch you shoplifting again, I’m gonna go a lot harder on you.”  I was already planning on it.  He told me to get dressed and showed me the door.