Episode 85: SHIRTS LEAVE

“Where the fuck is this place?”

Mace Belmont crept along in traffic aggravating those driving behind him as he searched for Crown Prints, a specialty shop that designed T-shirts and other assorted articles of clothing. If you wanted something they did their very best to make it to specification. Unfortunately, it was pretty much located in an alley. Not even his GPS was offering insight. You are here meant you are here to shrug.

“You have reached your destination my ass. Shit! Don’t do this to me. Aunt Piper’s going to skin me alive if I don’t deliver.” He waved cars around him in his lost pursuit. Some folks took the bait, others laid on their horns. “GO THE FUCK AROUND GRAMPA!” Grandma, get it right! Mace peered through his rearview at an old man which ended up being an old woman flipping him off. Any other time it might be funny. Not this very minute. Succumbing to desperation he found a parking spot two blocks from his GPS assistant’s insistence that he had arrived at his desired destination.

Hopping out he hoofed it up and down in a two-block radius before asking someone in a sporting goods outlet called Nine Iron. Laughing with the guy working there Mace said, “Need a spokesmodel?” The guy patted his own crotch, “Beat you to the job.” At least they found it humorous. Leaving the store, he hit the sidewalk again. “Alright! One block over between Betsy’s Bakery and Hayseed Head Shop.” He had to laugh again, “At least you can buy a bong, get high and stop for donuts to fix the munchies.”

Friday uptown, the outlets were busy and congested. He found himself eyeballing a number of lovely MILF’s trying to relive their younger days in revealing dresses and too short hot pants. Even he had to stop and check a few out a tad longer than necessary, some sharing in his overactive eye contact. “Damn! Maybe I should pimp myself out.” He knew that time wasn’t in his favor, so he pressed on until he found the bakery. “There’s Betsy.” He discovered it to be an end of the road between it and Hayseed’s. That meant, “Down a creepy alley? For real?” It looked that way.

A small sign hanging over a doorway behind Hayseed’s clued him in on an exact location. If he had blinked, he would have missed it. “Who puts a store in an alley and expects to do business? Of course, it is next to a head shop, maybe they sell weed too. Wait! That’s legal these days. Then again head shop ... crown ... they kind of go hand in hand.” He chuckles and uses his right hand as if jerking off. A pair of 20something women walking by him noticed his reaction and grinned sheepishly. Watching them pass he smiled back with swagger. Alley ways and sex did follow the same pattern.

To his surprise the women opted to continue on without any further flirting. As a grandstand moment he called out figuring he had nothing to lose. “Too bad! I’m hung like a horse.” They halted at his louder than expected response. Whispering to one another the two women chose to retrace their steps to meet him halfway folding their arms as if expecting him to show it off. Mace frazzled just that fast. After amazing sex with Francesca earlier he was still hung up on her. Flirting was one thing, but he was biting off more than he could chew under pressure of a timetable. Bitches were hot as fuck though.

“Well? We’re waiting.” The tallest of the two, a leggy blond with a tight tan pull over shirt offering obvious breast implants via a physical dark alley of her own down the center looked impatient.

“I was joking.”

The other woman a brunette with a ponytail and white rimmed sunglasses chimed in impatiently, “No you weren’t. Whip it out Horse Whisperer.” She too had fake tits, both stripper quality hot in every way. Tight white shorts helped him make up his mind. Ass cheeks exposed knew how to reel a guy in.

“What’s in it for me?” Mace chose to play the game, his back to the alley.

“We’ll show you ours if you show us yours. Unless you’re chicken?”

“He might actually be hung like a horse Lacey.” The brunette pointed at Mace’s sweatpants tented out.

“Well, my last name is Belmont.” He chuckled.

“As in Belmont stakes?” Lacey smirked looking about for safety on this overly hectic environment. Cars were bumper to bumper at certain points, many eyes checking out the ladies.

“That’s not a bad assumption considering my dad breeds racehorses. Lucky us, but no relation.”

“Interesting. Let’s go Gina he’s stalling.”

“Sorry Champ!” Gina frowned.

“So am I.” He whispered just loud enough for Gina to pause.

“What was that?”

“Whores Whisperer!” He grinned mischievously, praying they wouldn’t be offended, “Got your attention back though.”

“He’s calling us whores.” Lacey lifted a brow and folded her arms higher under her breasts to amplify their fullness as if modelling them.

“We do have our moments.” Gina giggled, “Alright Belmont show us your steak.”

“I see both sets of tits if I do?”

“You’re on.” Lacey lifted her chin as if waiting for him to make his move. You could almost hear the theme song from a spaghetti western. A duel in the streets. It was past high noon, however.

Mace mulls it over slightly feeling pressed for time, but this was just too unreal to pass up. Lacey and Gina were dynamite. “Ready?” They lower their gazes as he reaches down to tug his sweats over his monster 9-inch, half of his ass out in the open as well. The second his erection popped free both women lifted their sunglasses and puckered with respect. Zero expression otherwise! Now cars were honking his way. No, wait! That was still grandma who had circled the block looking for parking.

“You were right Gina. He is hung. How full are those nads?” Lacey prompted. In response Mace lifted his dick higher and let them see his bulbous scrotum, refilled and showing his age. Youth driving him he was brimming with high energy at all times.

“That’s...” Gina admires it a moment to realize she was holding her breath, “ ... a very nice cock.”

“Wait!” Lacey notes the sign in the alley not knowing a real business was back there, “Crown Prints. Are you ... a male prostitute?”

“No way!” He looks over his shoulder at the sign connecting dots before looking at his own crown, “Irony, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” Lacey shakes her head then looks at her thin wristwatch, “We have to get to work Gina.”

“Hold up! We had a deal. Let’s see those hooters.” Mace insisted not wanting to be played.

“Deal’s a deal.” Gina waited on Lacey to hesitantly agree, “Just so you know ... we normally get paid for doing this.” Both women pulled their shirts up and let their tits greet the light breeze circulating between buildings. Perfect in every way Mace whistled.

“Nice! You get paid? You thought I was a gigolo ... are you two hookers?”

“Not even, but I guess if the money was high triple digits ... maybe.” Lacey joked.

“We’re strippers.” Gina filled him in, “If you’re old enough drop by Cashanova sometime, you can tip us for the rest. We go on at 2:00 ‘til midnight.”

“Actually, if you’re looking for a job...” Lacey winked, “We might be persuaded to be your resume.”

“I got your tip right here.” He wagged his beast. “Sure! The rest of my day’s booked but I’ll definitely stop in. Real tips even, but I bet you give my money back to me.” He boasts stroking his beast to a hint of hunger in their eyes.

“You have balls Belmont.” Lacey puckered, “Big ones I might add.” She puts her tits away. Gina following suit. A lot of disappointed motorists including a police cruiser frowned at their departure.

“The better to paint the town with Ladies.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.” Gina nibbled her lower lip, “We work every day but Sunday and Monday. Pop in when you have time. In being Cashanova. Not us!” She razzed him then turned to see the police car, waving at it. A nod back the officers moved on. Mace hadn’t even noticed the POPO.

“Amateur night is on Thursdays. Dare ya!” Lacey razzed him.

“Thanks for the invitation.” He maintained stroking his cock to their wavering eyelids. They wanted to watch but like Mace they were pressed for time as well, Cashanova was a good six miles away. “You really think I could be a stripper?”

“Package that big, balls to match? I’d say you would kill it.” Gina praised him.

“Uhhh?” Lacey notes movement behind Mace stepping out of Crown Prints. “You might want to put that horse back in the barn. You have company. Gotta go, Belmont.” The ladies hightailed it before any words could be exchanged from the person in the alley. Mace pulled his sweats up laughing then turned to head for the store. Standing outside smoking was a stunning younger girl with mixed heritage, half white, half African American, a golden afro style mane above huge brown eyes and luscious lips made her alluring. If not for that damned cancer stick.

“Don’t stop on my account. I’ll smoke two more after you finish.” The girl giggled.

“Sorry! I shouldn’t have done that. They dared me.”

“Uh huh! MILF’s gotta love ‘em.”

“You work here?” He steps closer looking up at the sign, her eyes checking him out while he was distracted.

“Yep! You going to show me that thing?”

“I could but I’m running out of time. I’m actually here to pick up an order for my aunt.”

“Seriously?” She winced.

“Yeah, I’m dead serious, I just got derailed there is all.”

“Who are you picking up for?”

“Piper Cherry.”

“Ohhhh! The Swallower order.” She laughed, “Too funny. Those skanks are really going to wear those things?”

“Are they that out there?”

“T-shirts with a big bird with its beak wide open, feathers on the shoulders like wings? You tell me.”

“I guess I just have to see them.”

“Packaged up! I can show you the template on my computer though. Oh, just for kicks I added a few extra shirts in case they want to sell any at tonight’s game.”

“You know about tonight’s game?”

“Hell, yes I do. My sister is a cheerleader for Marquette. Gooo Badger’s, or should I say Badgerl’s?”

“Badgerl’s as in Badgirl’s?”

“Horton-Dexter grad? You’re smarter than you look.”

“No. I’m from Atlanta Georgia. My aunt moved here to Nashville recently and took a job as the school counsellor, then got roped into being the pep squad coach too.”

“Badgers are going to dig a hole for the Swallow’s. Just so you know.”

“Doesn’t matter to me. I’m just going along to support my aunt and friend Sable, her first time cheering at a game.”

“Tell her good luck. Come on in Mister Cherry.”

“Belmont. My mom is Piper’s sister.”

“Gotcha!” She flicks her cigarette butt into the alley, “Follow me ... not too close though. That pecker sticks waaaaay to far out.”

“It knows a hot girl when it sees one.”

“Those two MILF’s?”

“I was talking about you.”

“Sweet stalker.” She razzes him, “I’m Odessa by the way. Odessa Bradley, I used to be a cheerleader two years ago until I graduated. Volleyball was my main jam.”

“You have the body of one.” He admires her extraordinary ass, Ms. Bradley wearing tight black yoga pants, her top yellow with laces down the spine showing her bare back, nipples gently teasing through the front. Having 36C’s they complimented what bit of cleavage she was sharing.

“You play football?”

“Naaaa! Baseball back in the day.”

“Should of known. Nice swing you got there Batboy.”

“Home run every time.” He winked, “Cute dugout?”

“I am sooo not showing you, my dugout.” She laughed going behind her counter to retrieve Piper’s box of t-shirts which were neatly taped up, “The owner Claude made the shirts from my designs. He laughed his ass off and called your aunt crazy. He couldn’t understand why there were no matching skirts.”

“Understatement! Trust me I know what she’s capable of. She paid for those already, right?”

“Yep! Credit card over the phone the receipt says. Why does her card say last name Liberty?”

“Somewhat recently divorced! She probably hasn’t switched her credit to her maiden name yet. I’ll remind her.”

“I’m not worried I just noticed it actually. It’s paid, all that matters. Listen ... uhhh? What’s your name other than Mister Belmont?”

“Mace. Mace Belmont. 007!”

“Well, I have the secret to your agent. I did something special for her being she purchased so many shirts. I took a hint from the Badgerls, they all wear fur G-strings, so I made feathery ones for the Swallows. Not real feathers but I designed a cool wingspan look for them to wear under their skirts. Like I told Claude I figure the Swallower’s are wearing their old skirts.”

“I ... don’t think they’re wearing skirts. Just the shirts.”

“Are they bonkers? They can’t do somersaults in t-shirts they’ll ... you’re making that up.” Of course, she mulled over what Marquette got away with, other schools as well. She just wasn’t used to hearing Horton-Dexter being so bold.

“Nope! Expect the unexpected.” He laughed growing curious, “Can I see the design on your computer?”