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My Hot Belt, Your Hot Arse

by Joelstrap

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 13 Feb 2018

My Hot Belt, Your Hot Arse

I opened the Valentine cards at breakfast. The one from Cal was expected, but still sent a frisson of excitement round my body. The other was a surprise. On the front was a huge red heart with lots of little hearts around it.

Oooh! said my mum, You’ve got another admirer, Joe.

Yeh, yeh, okay, I said, feeling the colour rising in my face.

Do you know who it is? mum persisted.

I shook my head.

Maybe there’s a name inside, she went on.

Mum; it’s a Valentine. You don’t sign your name on it. I just know Cal’s because I recognise his writing.

I know; but have a look anyway. What does it say? There might be a message.

Yeh; well, if there is, I’m not reading it to you, I assured her.

I opened the card, carefully holding it up so that she couldn’t see what was in it. The mild colour in my face suddenly rose sharply in temperature and I felt my ears and cheeks burning crimson.

Wow! Must be a real sexy message, Joe.


Inside, the sender had stuck his own message over the printed poem. I was looking at a pair of well-rounded buttocks, pinkish at the edges and decidedly red in the centre. Round their perimeter was a dark brown leather belt, the buckle at the top. Underneath was written in an untidy scrawl: My Hot Belt; Your Hot Arse. A line of kisses followed.

So? Do you know who it’s from?

No. No idea, I replied honestly.

Oh come on, Joe, there must be some hunky boy that’s shown an interest in you, said mum.

Mum, please! The only hunky boy is Cal; and you know about him.

Oh, all right; but to judge by the colour you’ve gone this mystery-guy must have expressed his feelings pretty strongly, said mum perceptively.

Er, well, yeh; but I’ve honestly no idea who would say.......would say that, I ended lamely.

Say what, Joe?

I hastily put the card back in its envelope and darted off to my room to get ready for work. I decided to take the card with me as I wasn’t entirely convinced that mum would be able to resist having a look at it while I was out.

Don’t you elope with your admirer, Joe, warned mum as I left the house. It’s pizza and chips tonight remember.

Yes, mum, I sighed as I made my escape.


Cal and I had met when we both started work at the huge head-office of the insurance-company. Neither of us had wanted to go on for more education and although it meant starting at a fairly lowly level, we were content to be earning money. We had begun as friends and gone on to be lovers. The sex was white-hot and since we were both horny as hell virtually all the time, like any eighteen-year-olds I guess, we got together as often as we could to fuck each other silly.
I was at the coffee-machine mid-morning when he came along.

Hi! Listen, Cal. I got this Valentine. Apart from yours, I mean.

I fished it out and let him see the front.

Very nice. What’s it say? Who’s it from? And why is some strange guy sending you a Valentine?

How should I know? There’s no name on it; and don’t ask about it in that way that sounds like you’re accusing me of something, I said irritably. But the message inside says the guy wants to take his belt to me.

It says that?

Yeh; not exactly those words, but that’s what it means, I said, strangely reluctant to let him see the highly appreciative comment about my bottom.

You gonna let me see, Joe?

Er, no. It’s kinda personal.

Personal? You mean it’s dirty? Kinky?

No; it’s just......personal.

Okay. But if a guy wants to take his belt to you, he must have noticed your arse.

Well, yeh, I guess.

Not that I blame the guy. It’s one fucking great bum.

I’m not so sure he likes it, I said, blushing furiously. if he wants to take his belt to it!

Maybe he’d love to leather it, suggested Cal.

But who wants to tan my hide?

Dunno. Anyone commented on it recently?

No! Guys don’t go around making comments about my arse!

I bet they do, opined Cal, appraising my posterior with a critical eye. It’s fantastic to look at; and absolutely brilliant to hold and touch and stroke and f.......

Yeh, yeh, okay. Just shut up, will you? Someone might overhear us.

The only Valentine I got was from you, said Cal. But then I don’t have a devastatingly irresistible bottom like you have.

Hello! Got a boy who’s fallen in love with you, Joe? asked Mr Collins, the boss of our section.

I hadn’t seen him approach and he caught a glimpse of the Valentine as I shoved it into my jacket-pocket.

Er, yes, sir. But it’s anonymous, I said.

Ah well, you good-looking young guys will have your admirers. Have fun when you find out who it is, he said as he strode on past.

He likes you, observed Cal.

Huh? Collins?

Yeh. He was checking out your arse; and your junk, he added.

Well, I don’t like him, I said.

Aw, come on, Joe. He’s not bad-looking. I shouldn’t think he’s much past thirty; and he obviously works out.

I know, but he just doesn’t do it for me. Hey! I said as a thought struck me. You don’t think he could’ve sent that card?

Could be, said Cal slowly. And he did talk about you finding out who it was from, as if he knew you would soon; which could mean he sent it and he’s gonna tell you later.

But why would Collins want to leather my bum?

Maybe that’s his thing. He gets off on tanning young guys’ hides, suggested Cal.

I was sceptical.

He doesn’t look like he could dish out a belting, I said. I mean, he’s got the muscles; but he just doesn’t have that dominant look about him.

What dominant look?

You know. Some guys just have it; they look dominant. Like you, I said.


Yeh. Don’t look horrified. It’s not a bad thing, Cal. I like it when you get rough with me and just take me the way you want and to hell with what I want.

You do?

Sure. I don’t just put up with that; I enjoy it.

I like doing it; but I wondered if maybe you were just humouring me; or were too polite to tell me to stop, admitted Cal.

I’ll tell you to stop if you do anything I don’t want, I assured him. And you better not stop sorting me out!


Next morning as I was getting ready to set off for work, I heard the clatter of the refuse-truck coming along the road. Oh, shit! I thought. One of my chores was to put out the wheelie-bin and I’d forgotten, as I’d done several times in the past few months. I raced outside, grabbed the bin-handles, and yanked it down the path and out on to the road, just as the lorry reached our gate. The big, rough-looking, sexy blond guy who usually seemed to empty our bin came striding along and winked at me as he pulled the bin to the back of the truck.

Sleep in again, eh? he said, grinning broadly.

Na. I just forgot; as usual. Just as well you didn’t beat me to it or mum would’ve been on the war-path, I admitted, admiring his deep blue eyes.

Beat you with her rolling-pin, would she? he asked as he shoved the emptied bin back into my hands.

Er, hardly; but she’d tear me off a strip, that’s for sure.

He shook his head and galloped off to the next gate to catch up with his mate who was doing the bins on the other side of the road. It was as I was making my way along the road to work that a thought crossed my mind. That wheelie-bin guy. He was always making comments to me when I came out panting with the bin just in time; and I had been sure he’d been checking me out on several occasions. Not that I had any problem with that. I’d checked him out plenty of times. Could he have sent the Valentine? Some of his comments were a bit suggestive; and today’s business about beating me might hint at the way his mind was working. I asked Cal what he thought at coffee-time.

Shouldn’t think so, he said. I’d have thought he’d be more likely to go in for action.


Yeh. Grab you, throw you over a wheelie-bin, yank out his belt, and tan your hide for you.

He could hardly do that in the street, I protested.

Well, you know what I mean. Maybe he’d just ask you right out if you wanted to come to his place tonight so he could leather you, because he thinks you’ve got a great arse.

I snorted. Yeh; that’s likely. Mind you, I’d rather be tanned by him than that smarmy bastard Collins.

You want a guy to take his belt to your behind, Joe? asked Cal, looking closely at me.

Never really thought about it before, I replied. I guess it could be quite exciting. Do you think whoever sent the Valentine will reveal himself?

Not much point if he doesn’t, said Cal thoughtfully. He’s never gonna get to leather your tail if he doesn’t let you know who he is.

I suppose so; but maybe he’s waiting for me to find out for myself. Maybe I gotta try to discover if it was Collins or the wheelie-bin guy, or someone else.


Cal and I were in the canteen having lunch when Roger came and sat with us. He was a compactly-built guy, lithe and slender as a cat, dark-skinned and he simply oozed animal sexuality out of every pore of his body. He’d be in his early twenties and he and I had eyed each other appreciatively on a number of occasions. He had a boyfriend though, who also worked in the insurance-company, and so was off-limits to me, even if I hadn’t had Cal. He was a persistent flirt, however, constantly making suggestive and embarrassing remarks which I found simultaneously exciting and annoying. I noticed that he had a broad, hefty-looking belt of dull black leather round his waist.

Hi, honey-buns! he said to me as he sat down.

Honey-buns? asked Cal.

I flushed.

He keeps telling me that he wants to spread honey on my buns and then lick it off, I explained.

Listen, mate, said Cal to Roger, I know he’s cute and he’s got an arse to die for, but he’s mine. If anybody’s gonna be licking honey off his buns, it’s me, okay?

Sure, sure, replied Roger pacifically. Only fooling about, mate.

We chatted about other things while we ate, but after Roger had gone I asked Cal if he thought maybe Roger had sent the Valentine.

More likely than your bin-man, I’d say. He obviously appreciates your arse; he’s got a great belt; and he’s sexiness on legs; and he’d just love to get into your pants, said Cal.

How’d you know that?

I can see how he looks at you. If I wasn’t around, and he didn’t have a boyfriend, he’d be following you into the toilets, shoving you into a cubicle, back to the wall, and kissing you like there was no tomorrow. Then he’d rip your trousers and pants down, bend you over the pan and fuck you into the middle of next week, elaborated Cal.

I hastily shoved a hand into my groin to rearrange things, as my penis had reacted powerfully to this scenario.

Like that idea, do you? asked Cal with a broad grin.

Bastard! I hissed at him. Now I gotta stay sitting here until I can walk properly again.

So, if he sent the Valentine, maybe you ought to ask him. Like you said, maybe you need to find out for yourself. Think it could be him, Joe?

Shit! How should I know? It could be.

Like to feel that belt of his?

My penis, which was just beginning to retreat, soared to full length again and made me flinch.

That answers that then, observed Cal.

But it’s all kind of academic, isn’t it, if you’re not gonna let any guy touch my arse? It doesn’t matter who it is, or if I find out, because he’s not going to leather my tail anyway.

Too right he’s not, agreed Cal. But it’d be good to find out who it is. Go on. Go and ask Roger if he sent the card.

Roger was standing near the door, chatting idly to a colleague. I joined them and Roger at once excused himself to the other guy and turned to me.

Hi; escaped from your handler and come to get me to honey your buns for you? he said.

Roger, did you send me a Valentine? I asked outright.

He opened his eyes wide. Fuck! He is gorgeous!

No, but you can have me as your Valentine any day you want. That’s a big package you got there between your legs, Joe, and you just say the word and I’ll unpack it and play with it for you any time you want. Provided our boyfriends aren’t around of course, he added with a grin.

We’d best not risk it, I said.

Yeh. That big sexy bugger of yours looks like he could really fillet my face if he thought I was messing with you.

Yeh, I agreed, feeling a cosy sense of being safe and protected.

He says it’s not him, I reported to Cal. I’m gonna ask the bin-guy next week. I just gotta know. But first, I’d best see what Collins has to say.

Collins was just finishing his lunch and I went over to his table. He smiled warmly at me.

Sorry I’m finished, Joe, he said. We could’ve had lunch together.

Yeh. Can I ask you something? It’s a bit embarrassing.

Of course. Fire away. How could I say no to a stunning guy like you?

Oh, er, yeh; I mean no. Oh, shit! I ended feeling my face hot and my ears burning.

Sorry, said Collins, although he didn’t look in the slightest repentant.

Actually what you just said maybe makes it a bit easier. You know, jokes about me being stunning.

I could see he was about to leap in and deny it was a joke, so I pressed ahead fast.

I got a Valentine which was from a guy who said my behind; and I wondered if maybe it was one of your jokes?

Sorry, Joe; not guilty; but it wouldn’t have been a joke. I know I’m your boss, but I have to tell you that you’ve got a great pair of buns there. I wish I had thought to send you a Valentine about them, he said regretfully.

Come on, Joe, said Cal at my shoulder. Time we got back to work or Mr Collins will be sacking us for taking too long a lunch-hour.

Cal put his hand in the back pocket of my trousers and propelled me away, even as Collins protested he’d never sack anyone for such a thing.

What the hell do you think you’re doing? I demanded of Cal.

Just making sure Collins knows who your arse belongs to, he said.

Oh. I’d definitely rather it belonged to you than to him, I told him.

I should think so, retorted Cal. I do give you credit for some taste.

Right. Anyway, next week to ask the bin-guy.


For the first time ever, I was deliberately late in putting out the bin. I waited until I heard the truck in the road and then dashed out. To my surprise, Cal was walking along towards my house just as the truck stopped and the blond collector strode up to me.

Hi, spunky! he greeted me.

I gotta ask you something, I said, holding on to the bin so that he couldn’t drag it to the truck. Did you send me a Valentine saying liked my arse?

Huh? Me? Fuck, no! But I do like your arse, he said, eyeing it admiringly. See this?

He pulled the bin away from me and thrust it into the contraption at the back of the lorry, which accepted it, tipped it up, banged it a couple of times back and forward, and emptied it. Blond guy returned the bin to me.

I got something that I could shove up that gorgeous arse of yours and empty into you, just like the bin, he said, giving his groin a suggestive and obscene thrust towards me.

Cal joined us.

Hi, Joe.

He put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me firmly and sexily on the mouth. Blond bin-guy watched, shrugged, and stalked off. I stared at Cal.

You’re a jealous bugger, I observed.

You complaining?

I wouldn’t dare.


Later we discussed who else might have sent the Valentine, but there was no other obvious candidate.

Oh well. Just have to wait and see if the guy shows himself, I said.

But you think you’d like to get a belt taken to your behind, Joe?

I’m not sure; but I’m up for trying new things; and thinking about it sure gets me hard. But, like I said before, you’re not gonna let any other guy anywhere near my arse, so it’s not gonna happen anyway.

We left it at that; and as the weeks passed and February slid into spring, I forgot all about the Valentine.


We were lying on sun-beds in my garden on a warm afternoon in April, both on a week’s post-Easter holiday, and with the house to ourselves as my parents were both out working. Cal, who was completely naked, suddenly pushed his hand down inside my shorts and felt his way round my junk like it was his own. I felt my cock rise fast even as I glanced at him.

Horny bugger, aren’t you? he said with a c