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Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Men In Suits 

I have to confess something.

I have a fetish.

No, it’s not rubber.

Well, yes, obviously there is that too, but not only that.

I have a thing for men in suits.

That’s right, suits: buttoned up shirts, stylish ties, smart trousers with matching fitted jackets. Anything that makes a man look like he’s going to work – serious work.

I’m not sure when, or even why I find this look attractive, but it’s been something that I have found more appealing as I have got older. I do find odd, something that looks so conservative, can also be so sexy to me. Especially since it represents the things I dislike about the establishment: capitalism, moneymen and politics, their suits a common uniform for all.

But then it’s not so much what the suit looks like, as what lies beneath - the male body - that is so appealing. Maybe it’s the contrast between the two: the sharpness, rigidity and conformity of the suit, juxtaposed with the hidden roughness of the body hair, muscular curves and hardness of the cock. Or perhaps it’s just that it seems so tantalising to see a man fully suited and booted with his erection pressing up against his smart pressed trousers: his carnal desire contrasting with his restrained appearance.

Seeing men walking along in suits, their bodies restricted by the cut of the material, makes me think of how these clothes are like a mild form of bondage: the shirt buttons tight across their chests, the tie choking them, the trousers squeezing their genitals. Not to mention, uncomfortable shoes too. It’s like the male equivalent of a woman in a short rubber dress and platform heels: everything’s squeezed in tight and it is hard to move, but damn does it look good.

When I see a man dressed in a suit, it makes me want to rip his jacket off, pull him roughly towards me with his tie in one hand, whilst undoing his zipper and freeing his cock with the other. To have him - and his suit - at my beck and call, a reversal of the power that this uniform seems to epitomize to me, is tantalisingly sexy.

A man in a suit also seems to carry an air of authority. I don’t mean in the traditional ‘this man is obviously brainy and important’ way. Rather, in the ‘throw me down on the bed, tie me up and spank me’ kind of way. Being smartly dressed not only allows a man to be elegant and appear important but it also gives him a mask to hide behind and perform in. Like the sharply dressed gorgeously sexy James Spader in Secretary, a man in a suit can appear to be a restrained, polite, decent man; but given the opportunity, he will pull his cock out of his smart trousers, bend his girlfriend over the desk, and then fuck her hard from behind. Elegant and rampant together, wonderful.

And it is this thought in mind that I find myself preoccupied with, when men in suits walk past me on the streets: are they a normal everyday guy, who likes football and beer, or behind their clothes, are they the rampant thrusting craven man who wants to rip off his suit and give his wife a good seeing to?

Sadly most men I know don’t wear suits (but jeans and shirts can be sexy too). And of those I know that do, they are more the type of guys who have to take each item off and fold it neatly, before entering into any nookie: a passion-killer if there ever was one.

So for now, it’ll remain just a fantasy that a lover will turn up at my house wearing a sharp new suit, unzip himself, and tell me to ‘suck it’, before bending me over and fucking me hard from behind whilst slapping my arse.

A damn good fantasy though.

Now, where was it that all those City Boys hang out again?

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