The Loft by Tagsit



Back up in the loft, Justin finished looking through the rest of his landlord's mail. It had been very entertaining and even a bit educational. At the very least, it had been a very pleasant way to kill several hours of time that he'd earlier worried would drag by. His curiosity about this man, Brian Kinney, was aroused.

Actually, more than just his curiosity was aroused after looking through one of the catalogs that had been in the stack of mail. The full color pictures of the 'toys' in the catalog (many of which were accompanied by vivid descriptions regarding their use, as well as testimonials from happy - very, very happy - customers) had been so arousing, in fact, that he was now sporting an almost painful hard on. So, like any other red-blooded American gay boy, he took matters into his own hands, literally, and engaged in a good old-fashioned 'whack attack'.

As he reclined on the sofa, holding his fully engorged dick in his hand and stroking it with a firm, slow grip, Justin's mind kept returning to the enigmatic man who was the intended recipient of this oh-so-erotic mail. The thought of the man excited him even more than the toys had. He wondered what Brian Kinney looked like. In his mind, Justin started to construct a hazy picture of the man using the few clues he had so far. The blond imagined that the other man was tall, probably with dark hair and smoldering good looks. He dressed really well, too.

The more he fantasized, the harder Justin got. He then started thinking about all those 'toys' and just exactly what the dark, handsome man would do to him with those 'toys' . . . At the height of his fantasy, Justin was imagining himself lying on the bed with that big, florescent green dildo (as shown on page 47) firmly inserted up his ass with the vibration mechanism turned up to 'high' and his dark knight (aka his landlord) deep throating his cock while touching him all over his completely naked body. As the brunet fantasy man began to move the dildo in and out, across his already sensitized prostate, Justin felt a tightening in his balls, a building warmth originating in his gut and moving out towards his limbs and then, with a gasp, he climaxed shooting out streams of cum onto the couch and his own chest.

'That had to have been one of my best fantasies ever,' the panting, sweaty blond thought to himself. He made a mental note to remember that one again next time he needed a little release.

Ok, maybe he was just being a romantic fool. Kinney was probably just an ordinary guy. Maybe he was some fat, disgusting, breeder who got off on kink because he couldn't get a girl. There wasn't anything in the letter from the landlord that stated outright the man was gay. It was all probably just wishful thinking on Justin's part. But . . . it was a really great fantasy!

After cleaning himself up a bit, Justin grabbed one of his school notebooks and began to write:

Dear Mr. Kinney;

Thank you for your note of welcome. I'm settling in nicely, so far. However, I'm not sure I will be able to keep up the Loft's reputation as the 'hottest fuck pad' in the city. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a recluse these days. All I really want to do at your loft (well, maybe not all . . .) is to take advantage of the great natural light from those huge south facing windows for my painting. I hope you won't be too disappointed with my lack of promiscuity!

I'm forwarding the few items of your mail that I've received so far: an invoice from the 'Leather Emporium', a catalog for the Armani Spring Collection and another for what appears to be an interesting online sex-toy company. (It was VERY educational reading). There was also a largish box delivered from Church & Dwight Co., Inc., which, according to the invoice, includes 2 gross XXL Trojan(R) Bareskin Lubricated Condoms, one EcstasyTM Fire & Ice Pleasure Pack and a 64 oz. bottle of lubricant (with pump cap included - at no extra charge). I'm forwarding this package to you separately as it is a fairly large package and I'll therefore have to personally take it into the post office.

Based on your mail alone, you must be a very interesting/horny/promiscuous/remarkable (circle one) man, Mr. Kinney. I promise to continue to forward any additional mail you receive here as it is delivered (although I might have to look through the catalogs first - after that last one, I must admit I'm now rather curious).

Your New Tenant,

Justin Taylor

P.S. I found a large box of miscellaneous papers, photos, etc. at the back of the closet in the bedroom. Do you want that forwarded to you as well? Also, I'm curious about the child's handprints on the wall in the kitchen area - they don't seem to fit in with the 'fuck pad' image of the place?  J.

Justin immediately folded the note and shoved it into a battered but still usable envelope he'd dug out of the bottom of his messenger bag. He used one of the address labels his landlord had provided, sealed the envelope and put a stamp on the front. Then he skipped to the door, down the stairs and straight to the mailboxes. After depositing the letter to Mr. Kinney in his mailbox, he flipped the little side lever which caused the red flag at the rear of the box to pop up, indicating to the the letter carrier that there was outgoing mail.

Justin was hoping he would hear back from Brian Kinney very soon. In the meantime, he still had this entertaining new fantasy to work on. With a smile on his lips, he ran up the stairs, into the loft and headed straight for his bedroom. Maybe this day wouldn't turn out to be so boring after all.



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