Alex – the Freeballer in the Comet Store

It’s not often you see someone with “knock-‘em-dead” looks but just last month I spotted this guy in the “PlayStation” aisle and nearly walked into the pile of boxes on the corner! He was fucking gorgeous and I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was about 20, around 5’ 7”, slim and clean-shaven, with short dark hair, not black exactly but the colour of charcoal, neatly styled with a parting – in a modern but old-fashioned sort of way. He was ever-so-slightly olive-skinned, possibly Mediterranean extraction I thought, and he was a really smart dresser – totally overdressed for the Comet Store we were both in.

He wore a crisp white, open-neck shirt and a pale grey V-neck pullover. His stylish “Aviator” sunglasses were casually hooked over the “V” of his pullover. But what caused me to nearly walk into the pile of boxes was his tight-fitting grey trousers, in that slightly silky, shiny material; he was a “freeballer”, if ever I saw one – and I saw one alright!

As he moved along in front of the PlayStation display, I glimpsed the outline of something down the inside of his right leg. He stood still for a moment and as he shifted his weight from one hip to the other, I could clearly see his balls down his right trouser-leg. I even thought I glimpsed the slightly tumescent outline of a penis, ending in the neat but distinct mushroom shape of a cock-head. Phew!

I walked back around the PlayStation display to the end of the aisle to get another look at him from the front. My eyes were nearly popping out of my head. He seemed so brazen; but not in a vulgar way you understand; it was just that he was SO beautiful and SO inherently sexy!

Having nearly knocked over the pile of boxes at the corner of the display, I muttered the words “My God!” – under my breath, or so I thought. But he had heard me.

“Excuse me?” he looked up at me with a querulous expression on his face.

Caught out, tongue-tied and thrown, I was now standing directly in front of him and into his utterly gorgeous blue-grey eyes.

I hesitated; then I said, “Sorry, I was just so overwhelmed by your staggering looks!” and politely smiled at him.

As I heard the words leave my mouth, I thought “You stupid pillock! What on earth did you say that for! What if he thinks you’re being sarcastic?”

But to my amazement, he just stood there looking at me with a slightly puzzled expression on his face. Then, slowly, a smile began to form and before I knew it, his face had broken into such a broad grin that I had to smile back.

“Do you know,” he laughed, “You’re the only person to have ever said anything like that me! You’ve made my day!”

“I can’t believe that,” I gushed – and then began to feel embarrassed.

“I suppose you’re just a lecherous poof then,” he said, in a resigned sort of way that seemed to say, “It’s a pity the girls don’t think the same as you.” I began to wonder whether or not he was gay.

I just shrugged and smiled apologetically. “Afraid so,” I confessed. He continued looking at me, weighing me up and down.

Now I have to mention, in case this is not obvious, that I was more than twice his age and old enough to be his father, so any notions of sex with this “Adonis” was clearly in the realms of fantasy-fiction. I didn’t even know if this guy was gay but that seemed hardly relevant; you can’t let it go, can you, even when it seems hopeless?

Still, he hadn’t walked off and he was obviously intrigued, not to say flattered that at least someone had noticed how much trouble he had gone to before making his visit to the Comet Store. Which is more than I had done; plain jeans, polo-shirt and an inexpensive blouson jacket. I suddenly felt quite shabby.

“So I suppose you’ll be hoping I’ll ask you if you want a drink next,” he said, raising his eye-brows. He was playing with me, rather like a cat does with a mouse, but I thought I’d play along with his game. After all, he hadn’t shown his claws yet and I didn’t have anything better to do!

“Would be nice,” I ventured, and I shrugged again, still grinning at him like a love-struck kid.

“Hmm. Yeah, well, it’s all you’re gonna get, mate!” He raised a finger at me, as if to warn me off. Then he carried on, “C’mon then; there’s a Starbucks next door. You can buy me coffee.” And with that, he walked off towards the store entrance, casually jangling his car-keys in one hand.

I was dumbfounded, to be honest. But I followed, of course, wondering what his game was. Walking behind him, I had the most fabulous view of his rear, clad in those shiny grey, tight trousers. The centre seam fitted snuggly between his buttocks, dividing his bum perfectly; a gorgeous, round, “bubble-but” kind of bum. And there were definitely no underwear lines.

He went straight into Starbucks and chose a comfy chair in the corner by the window and sat down. I was still standing when he gave me his order – as if to a waiter; I had to laugh! Then I went to get the coffees, and the plain chocolate chip cookie he had ordered, as his “price” for the pleasure of his company!

We spent the next half hour chatting casually. He was remarkably laid-back and not at all phased by my obvious interest in him, not to mention the more than 20 years’ age difference. He told me his name was Alex, he was 20 and had just finished at College, doing Media Studies and Graphic Design. He still lived with his parents, had an older sister, married with 2 baby boys, twins. As he stirred his coffee, I noticed his hands, soft and quite delicate, and his finger-nails were immaculately clean and trimmed. When we talked about music, he mentioned a load of band names I had never heard of and I was reminded of our age difference. But he was a really nice guy. I never asked him if he was gay – it seemed impertinent somehow – but he admitted that he had been flattered by the forwardness of my remark about his looks and he seemed genuinely quite modest. But I couldn’t figure out why he was encouraging me.