I recently visited New York for the first time in some years and I of course could not forget based my encounter with another man.
In my early forties, I was in New York on a business trip just a few weeks after the terrible tragedy of 9/11. My trip involved me staying over the weekend. On the Friday evening, I went out to dinner with friends, had a great time and rather too much to drink. The next morning, I was up and in the hotel gym trying to shake the hangover, the sauna and steam room helped too. Then I enjoyed the hotel's great buffet breakfast. As I set out into mid-town, I was feeling pretty good, in that post-hangover phase when you feel really alive again!
I wanted to shop. One of my first stops was a well-known American men's clothes store on 5th Avenue. The store was spread over 3 floors and I ended up on the top floor. The assistant was serving a couple and I helped myself to some chinos and jeans and went to the changing room to try them on. By this time, the couple had left and the assistant came over to the changing room to see if I needed any help. He was really friendly and charming and I thought he was just being a really conscientious salesman when he came into the changing room.
It was a proper-sized changing room, not a tiny cubicle, with a bench at one end and a broad full length mirror. I had the first pair of trousers on and stood to look at myself in the mirror. The assistant was very attentive and complimentary - I keep myself in pretty good shape but I am no tall blonde adonis: I'm 5ft8 and of average build.
The assistant stood behind me talking all the time, describing how well the trousers fitted around my waist, emphasising this by touching the waist-band. Then he said how well they fitted down my legs and ran his hands down the outside of my thighs before then complimenting me on the fit at the front. For the briefest moment, his hand rested on my groin, then he went out into the shop looking for shirts to go with the trousers.
I was stunned, nervous and yes a little bit excited. I wondered if that last touch had been intentional - this thought did excite me - or if I had over-reacted to just an over the top attentiveness from a regular shop assistant. I had already noticed he was wearing a wedding ring, so I wanted to dismiss these thoughts. He was probably in his late 20s/early 30s, Latin-looking, very smiley. I decided I could have been imagining things, especially as my post-hangover mood was in that state where you feel really horny: I was just getting carried away.
But I could not dampen my excitement as I pulled on another pair of trousers, wondering if the assistant would come back into the changing room and repeat his action. Sure enough, he walked back into the changing room carrying some shirts, talking away about how good he thought the colours would be for me, how they would suit the trousers I was trying. There was still no one else on the floor.
As I stood to check the trousers in the mirror, the assistant stood behind me again and went through the same ritual, complimenting me on the fit. My heart was beating fast, my breath short, and I was aroused - if he repeated the touch on the trouser front, he would feel my cock semi-erect. Again his hand rested on my groin as he spoke about the fit. But this time, feeling me hardening, his hand stayed there.
"You're liking this, aren't you?" he said, smiling, and when I said "Yes" in reply, he began to rub his hand up and down my now rapidly hardening cock.
"I've never done anything remotely like this," I said. He spoke softly, assuring me that it was ok.
I turned around and for the first time in my life kissed a man full on the mouth as our hands began to explore each other's bodies. Increasing the excitement beyond the already wild level we were at was the knowledge that we were in public, that we could be seen or have to stop at any time. Daniel (he later told me his name) pushed the changing room door open wide enough so we could see if anyone came up the stairs.