The salesman is not oily, per se, but he knows his business well and he knows how to size someone up on sight. Little clues—the way they dress, the watches they wear—will tell him everything he needs to know about a potential customer.
Like this man, who has just stepped onto the lot. The salesman can tell that he's middle class, probably a teacher or some office job that requires a lot of reading. He has small glasses that he squints through and wears a formal but not particularly sharp-looking suit jacket. He's middle-aged, average-looking, with an air about him of being slightly distracted. The salesman smiles and comes up to shake his hand warmly.
"How are you today?" asks the salesman, brightly. "Looking for a new ride?"
"Well, new for me," the man says diffidently. "I can't afford something brand new. I just need something used and serviceable that'll get me where I need to go."
"Well we've definitely got that here," says the salesman. He puts a friendly arm on the man's back and steers him out onto the lot where dozens and dozens of young men and boys wait naked on their hands and knees on the pavement.
The salesman leads his customer over to a boy of about seventeen, pale skin with freckles and ginger hair. "This is a real beauty," the salesman boasts. "Seventeen, two previous owners, but still goes like a dream." The boy turns his face to them, his expression a scowl. The salesman laughs. "A little high-maintenance, but well worth the effort."
The customer walks around the boy, eyeing his long, slender limbs and the soft peppering of freckles that runs across his shoulders. He also tilts his head to look at the price tag, loosely tied around the boy's neck. He winces.
"Ah, maybe a little expensive for me," says the man.
"Alright then, alright," says the salesman. He steers the customer once again, moving him towards the young man he actually intends to sell to him, the one who will now seem much cheaper by comparison.
"This one's a little older, he's twenty-two, but he's solid. I mean, solid. You'll never get a complaint out of this one, never need any maintenance. He's a good comfortable choice."
The customer walks around the second offering. This boy's skin is a little darker, a slightly olive brown of indistinct heritage, perhaps middle-eastern. His hair is dark and falls into bangs over his face; he doesn't meet either of their eyes.
This price tag is a bit more reasonable to the customer, as the salesman knew it would be. He looks the boy over with interest, even going so far as to kneel down behind him and spread his ass cheeks apart with his hands, inspecting the tight pucker of the boy's anus.
The salesman reaches into his pocket and hands the man a condom. "Want to take him for a test-drive, to help you make your decision?"
The customer nods absently and takes the condom from him. He unzips his fly and pulls his cock out, pumping it a few times to get it hard. Then he rolls on the condom, kneels behind the boy, and guides his penis gently into the boy's well-lubed ass. Once he's buried inside the tight hole he uses he hands to grip the boy's hips, pressing his ass-cheeks together with the heel of his palms. He begins to thrust, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Is he certified on oral?" he asks the salesman.
"Gold standard," the salesman assures him. "Nice and tight, isn't he?"
"Yeah," the man agrees, sounding surprised. "You said he's twenty-two?"
"That he is, but he's only had one other driver before you, and I gather the man didn't take him out much. For someone as old as he is, he's practically brand new."
"He's nice," the man says, and the salesman can already tell that he's going to make this sale.
"Tell you what," says the salesman. "I have a few other customers I need to see to, so how about I leave you two alone to get better acquainted. If you want to try his oral just holler and one of my associates will bring you another condom. Sound good?"
The man grunts in response, clearly enjoying himself as he slides slickly in and out of the boy, his cock shoving into the boy's ass in short, sharp strokes.
The salesman steps away with a grin. The man was clearly loving that ass as soon as he slid into it; by the time he comes he'll be a done deal. The salesman hums softly and makes his way back to the showroom to start getting the paperwork ready.
When he gets there, however, he is distracted by another customer in the doorway. Immediately, the salesman smells money. Well-tailored suit, expensive cufflinks, professional briefcase. This man means business. The salesman is immediately by his side with the widest of possible smiles. "Can I help you, Sir?"
"I need a tight, sweet ride," says the man. His voice is deep and confident. "Something to make my buddies jealous at the office, you know?"
"We have just the thing, I'm sure," says the salesman, leading this new customer onto the show floor.
The show floor is composed of half a dozen shiny crome pedestals, each with a nubile preteen splayed out across the top. Shining metal clamps at their elbows and knees hold their legs spread wide, torsos angled down, displaying their merchandise for the customers walking the floor.
The businessman gravitates immediately towards a cherubic young boy with blond curls. He's practically salivating. The salesman smiles inwardly, but keeps his outward expression pleasantly professional.
"A fine choice, sir. I can see you have experience in this field." Clearly the man doesn't; this is the shiniest, most outwardly pleasing model on the showfloor, the honey trap for the inexperienced. "This is our newest model, never touched. Brand new and tuned to perfection. You won't get a more pleasurable or more fun ride than this."
The salesman steps up to the boy on the pedestal and grabs one of the boy's ass cheeks in each hand, spreading him open. "Finger him, Sir, you'll see what I mean," he says.
The man presses a finger up against the boy's anus and frowns as it sinks easily inside the boy up to the first knuckle. "I thought you said he was untouched?" he says.
"Only basic lube and maintenance," the salesman assures him. "We have unlubed models available too if you're more of a do-it-yourself kind of guy, but feel how tight he is. You don't get good clench like that from anything but a virgin."
"Oral?" the man asks, drawing his finger back out and idly circling it around the boy's anus.
"This one's an oral virgin as well, but we have some virgins that are certified in oral if that's more your speed," the salesman informs him.
"No, that's quite alright," says the man. He abruptly stops circling with his finger and spears two digits into the boy's anus, shoving them deep inside in a single thrust. The boy lets out a small, high-pitched squeal. The man frowns.
"Is it supposed to make that noise?"
"Brand new models do sometimes," says the salesman. "If you ride him for a couple months and it persists you might want to bring him in for a tune-up, but he'll still be under warranty at that point."
"Hmm," says the man. The salesman is pretty sure he's got this guy pegged: newly come into a lot of money, probably a promotion at work, desperate to show off and make himself look big to his friends. Probably not a lot of wits, but definitely a lot of ego. He makes a pitch.
"If you're interested, we've also got some great accessories that you can get with this model for just a little extra."
"Accessories?" The man's fingers are in the boy up to his knuckles and he seems to be stroking the boy's insides with them.
"You know, the usual. Dildoes. Vibrators. We have a bondage package that comes with nipple clamps, leather hand and ankle cuffs, cock-restraint cage, a full body leather catsuit with zippers over the crotch and anus, and your choice of either ball or ring gag. "
That gets the man's attention, as the salesman knew it would. The businessman draws his fingers an inch or so out of the boy's anus, then jabs them abruptly back into the boy, causing another little squeal. The man grabs a fistful of blond hair and yanks the boy's head back, gazing at him consideringly.
"I can pay you half down now if you throw in one of those bondage kits," the man offers.
The salesman's eyes widen. This is better than he was expecting. "Certainly sir. Ball or ring gag?"
"Ring," says the man. "Can I ride him here, since I'm buying him?"
"Certainly, Sir." The salesman reaches forward and clicks over a switch on the side of the pedestal, adjusting the height until the boy's anus is level with the businessman's crotch. "He's all yours," he says, gesturing at the boy's ass. "I'll just go get the paperwork then."
The salesman starts back towards the office section of the show floor building while behind him the man is already sinking his cock deep into the boy's anus, groaning in pleasure. As the salesman approaches the office door however, he is waylaid by an employee.
"Excuse me Sir." The woman's name is Karen, a long-time associate. He stops to turn to her.
"Yes?"
"The Punk is here again," she says, disapproval clear in her voice.
"Oh Christ," the salesman mutters, rolling his eyes. "Alright. I'll deal with him. Meanwhile, there's a young man on the floor who's just bought the XBC model—he's riding him now. Get him a contract. He promised half down now, throw in bondage kit A with a ring gag. Got it?"
"Yes Sir," says Karen, sounding relieved. "Thanks."
"No problem." The salesman heads towards the door to the show room, where he can see The Punk standing silhouetted, and rushes the young customer out into the lot and away from the show floor.
The Punk is a name they have for the young man who comes frequently to the dealership, always demanding to test out the merchandise and clearly never interested in actually buying anything. He gets his name not only from his behavior but also from his nose ring and spiky, frosted hair, as well as the ratty leather jacket he always wears.
"Hey man," says The Punk, looking far more cheerful than the salesman feels he ought to. "I was thinking I might get a new ride soon. Wanted to take a look at some of the merch, maybe test a few..."
"I'm afraid I don't have much time to help you today. I can show you maybe one or two models, but then I think you'll really have to-"
"Hey, what about this one?" The Punk walks over to the red-headed boy that the salesman had been showing to the middle-aged man earlier.
"I'm quite sure that model's out of your price range," the salesman snaps.
"I want to test him," says the Punk, already unzipping his fly. "Let me fuck him." He's already hard, and moves to shove his dick into the splayed, waiting ass.
"Hold it!" says the salesman, digging a hand into his pocket. "Condom!" The Punk damn well knows the rules here by now.
"But that guy in the showroom was fucking one of your brand new toys. How come he gets to fuck a new one bareback, and I have to suit up to try your fucking used model?"
"The man you saw in there had already purchased that model," the salesman says through gritted teeth. "Condom. Now."
"Fine." The Punk rolls his eyes, but opens the condom and puts it on. Then, without hesitation, he shoves his cock into the boy in front of him and starts up a fast rhythm. The boy grunts in discomfort, and the salesman winces.
This is the other reason they don't like The Punk. He's always too rough on the merchandise.
The salesman stands by and waits for The Punk to finish. The Punk laughs and smacks the boy's ass as he continues in his series of harsh, uncoordinated thrusts. He even starts to pull the boy's hair as he's riding, until the salesman slaps his hand away.
Finally The Punk comes and pulls out carelessly fast, the full condom slipping off him and remaining half-buried in the boy's ass, dripping cum down the back of his bare legs.
The salesman huffs and tries to come up with a polite way of asking The Punk to leave when the kid abruptly reaches down, yanks the dripping condom out of the red-haired boy's ass, and then braces one hand against the boy's hip and shoves the entire other hand up the boy's ass, all the way to the wrist.
The red-haired boy lets out a shriek loud enough that others in the lot turn to look in surprise. The salesman scowls in rage and grabs The Punk's forearm, yanking his hand as abruptly out of the boy's ass as he'd shoved it in.
"What the HELL do you think you're doing?" the salesman hisses. "That model is NOT certified for fisting!"
"Aw, come on," says The Punk. "Anything can be modded for fisting if you work it hard enough, everyone knows that."
"That," says the salesman sharply, "is a job best left to professionals who know what they're doing, which you are clearly not. Now get the hell off my lot! If I ever see you here again it better be with cash in hand to make a purchase, or so help me god I'm calling the cops. Got it?"
"Geeze," says The Punk, standing back up and zipping his fly. "Fine. Don't have to go all ballistic on me. Whatever. I'm out of here. Your rides are all fucking worthless anyway. Don't know why I even bothered." And with that he slouches off. The salesman watches him go, still scowling.
"Excuse me?" The salesman starts abruptly to find the middle-aged man from earlier at his elbow. The man smiles diffidently.
The salesman forces himself to relax. He takes a deep breath and lets the tension fall from his shoulders. "Yes? What can I help you with?"
"You were right, I think that model is perfect for me. The twenty-two-year-old. His ass is just amazing, really, and his mouth too. I'll take him."
Instantly, the salesman feels much better. "Excellent. I'll draw up the paperwork!"