Hot Crown – an erotic story

That night, Clifford wore a crown on his head that only he knew about. He is the only one who can feel it.

The invisible heat of the crown swirled above his head, matching the tense pulse of his body.

The pulse in his veins quickened as he was about to enter a new place.

He was sitting in the driver’s seat of a car across the parking lot from Black Boudoir.

“If people knew,” he repeated.

The entire drive there, he questioned his decision and silently debated whether to enter the lingerie store.

The fight gave him pause as he pulled into the shopping center parking lot.

“Get in there. I’ll love it,” he urged. “No one will know. No one is tracking me.”

Clifford turned off the car’s engine. This time he was determined – even though he was still tethered to the seat buckle.

He was breathing steadily, but his lungs began to rise and fall in awkward short bursts as he saw the “Open” sign on the door gleaming in the final light of the day.

However, he resisted the urge.

“I can’t go in, no.” He shook his head. “Imagine all the weird things. The ugly things. Who am I supposed to talk to? Just walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, I’m here for…’ I would be an idiot. I don’t know anything.”

The car’s engine started again. He grabbed the gear lever. Despite holding it, the shifter reminded him why he wanted to be there.

He let go.

“I must.”

So he turned off the engine again and unbuckled his seat belt. He has freed himself. Released.

However, his forehead fell on the steering wheel, and his hands held the steering wheel tightly.

He tried to cheer himself up again.

“Come on, Clifford. Be a man, not a punk. No one will know you’re in there. No one will even know who you are.”

He mustered up the courage to open the car door and step on the white line painted on the sidewalk.

The top of his head was hot. It wasn’t because of the hot and humid weather at night; However, the crown immediately rose to a higher temperature. There was no doubt that his scalp was red beneath his neatly trimmed black hair. His cheeks were hot and his temples were sweating.

He didn’t know whether to smile casually or walk into the store wholeheartedly, his brows furrowed and his face determined.

He figured a smile might draw a salesman toward him, while a serious look might put him off—or at least at the checkout—because he’d probably know what he wanted and where to find it. But he couldn’t just stupidly walk in like he was entering the wrong store.

The walk to the Black Boudoir was torture. His skin shivered with cold as he felt every driver and passenger staring at him, curious and speculating about his quirks. He heard cars passing by on the busy street and convinced himself to slow down to see if they recognized the person walking toward the store. At the same time, he was sure the people in the cars idling at the traffic lights were watching him cross the parking lot.

The doorknob of the black boudoir was hot, but then the cool breeze whizzed by and hit his chest, cooling his face. But the crown remains fixed—burning, hidden. Hot. Throbbing. Immediately, more parts of his body began to twitch—parts he couldn’t control. His heart and below.

The store has a spacious, open showroom. The rack closest to the door held flimsy pajamas and small bra and panty sets, just like in a regular clothing store. The simplicity relieved him. He opened his clenched fists, though his hands were still tense.

Don’t pass them. They might think I’m wearing them, he ordered himself.

As well as teddy bears and pajamas, there are colorful toys – dildos, vibrators – and lots of lotion.

One wall is covered with videos, and next to them is an open area, like a reading area in a library.

There were oddly shaped pillows and seats with handles and restraints. Seeing the restraints, he fought again.

“I’m asking for leave,” he said through gritted teeth. “Why am I here?”

He glanced back at the exit.

Turning around, he noticed that the opposite wall was covered with paddles and halflings—plastic mannequins in the shapes of women and men—butts, breasts, and vaginas. Life-size porn star displays promote sexual acts with molded toys that match the porn star’s pussy or big cock.

Then he saw the far back wall. It was covered with a bodysuit and cuffs trimmed with black leather metal, more restraints, and a mask and whip.

This leaves Clifford caught between intrigue and worry. He was concerned that the polyester webbing on the harness might be the best restraint.

“Can I help you with something?”

The gentleman’s voice startled him. When Clifford heard this, his body froze.

Clifford forced a smile. “I just…” he trailed off.

“It’s okay, brother.” He spoke in a calm and calm tone.

The man has green eyes and thin lips. It’s him.

“If you need help finding anything, please let me know. My name is Craig. I thought you might remember.”

“Yes.” Clifford lowered his gaze to the floor.

“If you’re interested,” Craig paused, “the back room is right by that doorway. There’s more niche items there. There’s another place to go – if you need – uh, want something else. Just call for service. I’ll be happy to help.”

Clifford nodded and thanked him in a low voice. He was too thirsty to speak loudly.

“Do you think you’d like the key?” Craig asked.

Clifford nodded.

The broad-shouldered man walked up to the cashier. Clifford recognized from his earliest experiences that he had a subtle grace.

Craig came back with a key marked “RFS Only.”

Before going back, Craig urged Clifford. “Take your time. I’m always here to help.”

Clifford walked over to the paddle wall, his back to the salesman. His red face was hidden.

He shuffled sideways along the wall until he came to the curtained entrance. After a moment, he disappeared into it.

Beyond the curtains, there is a TV in a side room. What plays is an interview with a Latino named Gerardo about his life as a Pony Dancer. Clifford did not watch the interview. He was caught in the heat and tension.

He noticed there was a separate door. A thin metal sign was nailed to the door. It says “RFS only”.

Fit is key.

Clifford came in. He turned on the light and entered a plain room. Clean. Safe. Unlike more underground clubs that lack basic standards.

He sat on a low, cushioned bench. He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing.

Craig is a good guy. Magnetic and handsome. He and Clifford met recently at a party downtown. After spending a night together, they decided to meet at Craig’s place of work. This is for quick things.

It might have been hours waiting there, and several times Clifford had to control his thoughts. He had the urge to run to the car and speed away. But he controlled these impulses.

Fighting fear with desire is torture. His chest would hurt and the crown would hiss against his scalp.

He rubbed his palms together and stared at the ceiling.

Then a square pocket door slides aside. A fully erect penis was inserted. vein. Thick. A mushroom head. Clifford remembered it from that night.

Clifford fell to his knees. He grasped its warmth and felt its pulse.

It is fully erect and has a red head. He kissed the tip gently. He stuck out his tongue and flicked it, teasing it so that it shook like a tree. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He took his cock in both hands and stroked it quickly for a moment to shock his body. He bent it down, swirled his tongue around its head, and sucked it into his mouth. He rocked back and forth, letting the saliva lubricate him. Threads of natural lube ran from his tongue to his glistening cock.

“You know how to suck a cock,” Craig’s calm voice came from behind the thin wall. He swayed his hips.

He paused and licked the drool from his red lips. “I’m proud of my skills.” He popped the cock into his mouth again. The stiffness cut deep into his core and made his cheeks swell. In an instant, he felt the changes in his penis and the salty taste on his tongue, and a large amount of semen filled his mouth. He took the cock out of his mouth and gasped.

He sat back proudly. He wiped more drool from the corners of his mouth and licked it off his fingers.

“Damn, Cliff. You’re amazing,” Craig gasped.

A few minutes later, Clifford left the key in that room. He quickly walked through the curtain and came to the black boudoir. He noticed the open sign wasn’t glowing.

Craig complimented him, but Clifford wasn’t sure he could agree with him. This may come in time. Now, he needs to leave. He wanted to leave in orgasm.

Clifford could breathe easier as he locked his seat belt in the car. In fact, the hot crown has been replaced by the crown.

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