The Humpsuit
A satirical erotic fantasy in one chapter, for adult masturbators.
by Richard Lovel – Copyright 2025 – All rights reserved
Wherein Peter shops for his first humpsuit, enjoys close personal attention from saleslady and yoga instructor, and leaves fully satisfied by his purchase.
Editor’s Introduction: Chronic masturbators are not relieved of the male’s instinctive urge to thrust and penetrate. Even virgins and the sexually incompetent, though lacking personal experience with intercourse, are not free from this innate drive. Manual stimulation fails to satisfy the thrusting instinct, and may even accentuate it by omission. Thus many masturbators supplement manualism with “humping” activities in which they simulate sexual intercourse with inanimate objects such as couches, pillows, or inflatable objects. The “humpsuit”, originally created by the fashion industry to meet the active-wear requirements of alpha males, is now offered in a variation specifically tailored for simulated intercourse. Non-copulators have adopted it enthusiastically.
The Humpsuit
Peter slunk nervously through the upscale shopping mall, weaving past sleek designer boutiques and trendy fashion stores, painfully self-conscious with the thought of what he was seeking, and for what purpose. He was heading to Cocked ‘N Ready, an elegant but daring clothier renowned for its provocative collection of men’s intimate leisure wear. At last he spotted the notorious stylized logo suggesting the shape of male genitalia and, glancing around furtively to make certain no one he knew was witness, quickly ducked inside the store.
His heart pounded as he wandered through the aisles, directionless and overwhelmed. Rows of risqué men’s underwear, silk dressing gowns, edgy leather chaps, and thong bathing suits filled his vision, each boasting a bold and sensual style he dared not imagine owning. Did men actually wear these aggressively provocative garments in front of other people? What manly pride and confident sexuality would that require? He was seeking something far more specific for his particular needs. Something that wouldn’t necessitate the challenging encounters with a sexual partner implied by the displayed items. Something tailored to a chronic, pussy-free masturbator.
An elegant and stylish saleswoman, adorned in a sleek, gray-tinged ensemble, approached him. Her entire presence exuded authority and sophistication, from the impeccable cut of her blazer to the silver strands in her chic bob haircut. With refined courtesy and a tone that was both professional and soothing, she introduced herself. “Good afternoon, I am Mrs. Rosemont. How may I assist you, sir?”
Peter stumbled over his words, his face growing hot with embarrassment as he replied, “I’m looking for a…a suit for…”
Mrs. Rosemont suggested confidentially, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “A humpsuit, sir? Of course. I’ll be glad to help the gentleman with that. Our fall/winter line has just arrived, perfect for keeping one hot on cold winter nights. If the gentleman will just step this way, into the Humporium.”
Her discretion and matter-of-factness, rather than easing Peter’s mind, made him all the more aware of his awkward predicament. He sensed she could see right through him, directly to the crux of his inadequacies. Swallowing hard, he followed as she guided him to a private section of the store, where the lighting was gentler and more intimate, casting soft shadows. Spotlighted tableaus of male mannequins modeled varying styles of humpsuits.
The suits were made from smooth, stretchy materials and boasted trendy designs, patterns, and colors that highlighted rather than hid the wearer’s form. Much like yoga attire, they clung to every curve and contour of the male body with startling accuracy. Some suits were one-piece, a seamless, full-body unitard offering a sleek and snug fit, while others looked like golf shorts, extending only from the waist to the knees. Most surprising were the suits’ strategically placed cut-outs and straps that boldly revealed and emphasized the wearer’s exposed genitalia, making the male anatomy the focal point of the outfit. Most mannequins displayed full erections, with their exaggerated sexual organs leaving no doubt about what these suits were designed to showcase and enhance.
Mrs. Rosemont explained, “We have two distinct styles of humpsuit, tailored to meet the needs of different types of customers. These displays feature the AlphaMax line, designed for confident and energetic gentlemen for use during intimate activities with partners. The AlphaMax showcases the masculine assets and presents them for action. Adjustable straps hold the shaft at optimal angles during penetrative or oral activities.”
She guided Peter’s attention to a mannequin set apart from the others, positioned in a dim corner of the room to highlight its subdued presence. In contrast to the bold and assertive designs of the AlphaMax collection, this mannequin wore a hump suit in a dull, inconspicuous brown, exuding a sense of shyness and quiet inadequacy. The suit’s bashful demeanor resonated with him, its aura of self-doubt striking a chord. However, he felt a wave of embarrassment at how the suit handled male anatomy: the elastic fabric enveloped the genitals in a shockingly obscene hot pink, with a tubular pouch lifting and enclosing the mannequin’s small erection. The stark difference between the suit’s muted tone and the glaring focus on the wrapped genitals was more obscene than bare skin, and instead of exuding masculine confidence, it hovered on the verge of the pitiful and ridiculous.
Mrs. Rosemont’s voice dropped to a confidential tone, as if they were sharing a private, slightly awkward topic. “On the other hand, the BetaMini line is tailored for individual male use, providing a hands-free experience of masculine pleasure. It allows men without partners to fulfill their natural urge for thrusting and penetration. The suit delivers full gratification through the user’s own movements as he simulates sexual intercourse.
She went on, speaking with delicacy, “It’s designed for gentlemen who lack sexual experience and confidence, who frequently struggle to meet typical male sexual standards. For these clients, it provides an experience similar to coitus, but without the stress of awkward interactions with a partner and the risk of failing to meet her expectations.”
She paused, letting Peter absorb the implications: The BetaMini. A substitute for a partner. Designed for the pussy-free masturbator. Peter’s cheeks flushed and his body shifted nervously but also with arousal stirring, picturing himself as the mannequin in the humpsuit.
Noticing his mute fascination, she asked confidentially. “Now, I understand that this is a sensitive personal question, but for full customer satisfaction, one must be frank about one’s needs. May I presume that the gentleman is interested in the BetaMini line?” Peter nodded in embarrassment.
“Thank you for telling us that, sir. Rest assured, our clients’ unique requirements and preferences are kept completely confidential.”
Mrs. Rosemont continued her careful explanation. “We have an extensive range of styles. This full-body option,” she mentioned, indicating a one-piece ensemble with a focus on the crotch area, “is ideal for outdoor events or cooler temperatures. It keeps the wearer cozy while ensuring maximum humping enjoyment.” Peter blushed at the implication, envisioning himself in the suit at social gatherings, thrusting his way to dreadful notoriety in front of other people.
Mrs. Rosemont proceeded to the next exhibit, which featured a shorts version of the BetaMini. She tapped the bulging pocket enclosing the genital area. “This version is crafted to be worn discreetly beneath your everyday attire, enabling the wearer to covertly hump objects in public spaces. An internal liner forms a moisture-proof barrier, concealing tell-tale emissions. Imagine, if you will, a frisky fellow, feigning inebriation, embracing a streetlamp in public and achieving full climax without disturbing passers-by. One would not wish to offend public decency.” Peter flushed with embarrassment at the similarity to his own fantasies.
“I’d like to mention an added benefit of the BetaMini line. Since it fully encloses the male anatomy, it can be worn openly in social settings. And yet it clearly reveals the true size of the wearer’s assets to all observers. It helps avoid awkward misunderstandings or potential disappointment with a new partner in a dating situation. Women especially appreciate this feature.” Peter envisioned himself open to public scrutiny, his genitalia drawing critical appraisal. The image was strangely arousing.
Mrs. Rosemont next explained the importance of precise measurements. “For optimal responsiveness, the BetaMini line is engineered to fit closely—particularly where sensitive bodily engagement is most critical. The greatest satisfaction results when the suit offers a firm, tailored fit.” She indicated a sleek, upright device positioned discreetly in the fitting alcove. “If the gentleman would kindly step into the sizing unit, we’ll proceed. It’s entirely non-invasive. The scanner employs adaptive ultrasound imaging—quite sophisticated—and is capable of generating a full anatomical profile through most common fabrics. No need to remove one’s garments.”
The scanner came to life with a gentle mechanical hum. On the screen, schematic outlines materialized—Peter’s modest anatomy rendered in cruel digital precision. Measurements for length, girth, and baseline tension appeared alongside a slowly rotating wireframe model. Mrs. Rosemont reviewed the display with practiced detachment. “Quite so,” she nodded and turned toward a back room.
She returned a moment later with a small, neatly labeled box in her hands. “Regrettably, we do not currently have the gentlemen’s exact size in stock. The closest we have is this BetaMini PartyBoy humpsuit in Extra Small. It may prove a touch loose, but it will nonetheless allow him to experience the essential features. If the gentleman finds the experience agreeable, we would of course be pleased to place a custom order in his exact dimensions.”
Mrs. Rosemont directed Peter to the changing room to try on the humpsuit. Inside he slid out of his clothes and, gathering the stretchy garment, stepped one foot at a time into its elastic embrace. The fabric clung to his legs as he pulled it up, fitting snugly around his thighs, hips, and chest, wrapping his body in a tight cocoon. In contrast, the sheath for his penis, even in an Extra Small size, was too loose, hanging slack around his member.
As he adjusted to the strange clothing, the fabric seemed to come alive on his skin, especially around his genital areas. Each movement sent a tickling sensation, a tantalizing tingle that stirred him in unusual and intense ways. His penis quickly became fully erect, pushing the pink sheath outward.
Now he faced a dilemma at his embarrassing condition. He cringed at the idea of Mrs. Rosemont waiting for him to appear, certain she understood exactly what was happening. Peter imagined her checking her watch with a smirk, perhaps tapping on the door to ask if “the gentleman required any assistance.”
Indeed, Mrs. Rosemont had foreseen his hesitation and gently called out, “Do not be alarmed by an involuntary reaction, sir,” she explained. “Most gentlemen experience tumescence during fittings. In fact, the member must be erect to ensure the proper fit.” He pushed the door open and stepped out, his face flushed with embarrassment, his rigid member preceding him while the tip of the oversize sheath drooped empty and swung with each step.
Mrs. Rosemont evaluated Peter’s state as he stood before her, his red face rapidly growing redder with embarrassment at her attention to his member’s eager reaction. “The suit fits very well, except that it’s overly generous for the gentleman’s more intimate requirements. Even so, I see that it is providing a pleasurable wearing experience. The gentleman may have noticed certain … friction. That is an effect of the suit’s unique nanofiber material. It provides deep cutaneous stimulation of the private areas. Please feel free to move around the store and acquaint oneself with how it feels.
Peter complied and started to move, tentatively at first, thrusting his stiffly erect penis ahead of him. Each motion made the clever fabric brush and tantalize his engorged shaft, and a thousand tiny fingers tickled his scrotum. With every step, resisting his rising arousal became more difficult, and lust overwhelmed embarrassment. He pushed his hips forward with increasing boldness, completely forgetting about Mrs. Rosemont as he was consumed by intense pleasure. The BetaMini seduced him into reckless abandon. Peter surrendered entirely to its wicked embrace, wildly humping and fucking the air with obscene delight. The suit dissolved all boundaries between imagination and reality. and lost in a haze of sensation he imagined his rhythmic thrusting to be an offering to the BetaMini itself.
So immersed was he that he didn’t notice the other customer, a striking middle-aged woman, until she spoke. She had come in with her husband’s newly purchased humpsuit for an adjustment. Peter froze in mortification, caught in mid-gyration with his lower body jutting lewdly forward, his face scarlet with embarrassment. The woman cast him a quick glance and then disregarded him.
She handed the humpsuit, a bold AlphaMax, to Mrs. Rosemont. “It needs adjustment,” she said to Mrs. Rosemont, “Too small in the shaft and pouch.”
“But Madam, it is our largest size!” Mrs. Rosemont protested in disbelief.
“You don’t know my husband,” she chuckled with smug satisfaction, and produced a tracing of her husband’s enormous erect penis, rolling it out on the counter like an ancient scroll.
“Most remarkable!” Mrs. Rosemont gasped, her voice filled with awe. “Was your husband fully erect when you took this measurement, Madam?”
The woman smirked. “Oh, he’s always fully erect.”
Mrs. Rosemont nodded appreciatively, “Madam is most fortunate.”
The woman let out a theatrical sigh, with feigned weariness, “Well, sometimes it can be overwhelming for me. But still, so much better than…” She gestured dismissively toward Peter’s small organs. He felt his manhood, so recently throbbing with excitement, shrank in proportion to his humiliation, and her mocking laughter lingered in Peter’s mind as she exited the store.
Mrs. Rosemont apologized, “I trust the gentleman wasn’t troubled by the lady’s inadvertent comparisons to her husband. Might I propose trying out a popular humpsuit accessory to help lighten the mood and restore the spirit of enjoyment?”
She led him to an apparatus standing by itself. “This is our ThrustCliner™, one of our most popular solo recreation units. It’s designed to position the body for the optimal humping posture—forty-five degree incline, fully cushioned, with orthopedic support along the torso and knees. The central ridge applies calibrated pressure to the pelvic zone, allowing for deep zone stimulation and focused thrusting without risk of genital strain.”
Peter stared transfixed by the ThrustCliner™, its contoured frame beckoning invitingly—awaiting a humper to take his place. “Would the gentleman care to give it a try?” Mrs. Rosemont asked, her voice calm and gently encouraging, as though the suggestion were entirely ordinary. “There’s no urgency. Whenever one feels ready.”
She assisted him onto the frame, guiding his limbs as he settled in. “If the gentleman is comfortable, I’ll secure the wrist and ankle restraints, Our clients find they enhance both safety and concentration. The straps prevent slippage during more vigorous movement. They also prevent the temptation to interfere manually with the thrusting action.”
She secured the cuffs tightly, ensuring he was firmly restrained. “Now the gentleman can focus fully on his thrusting and allow the humpsuit to provide complete satisfaction.”
Peter slowly began flexing his body against the ThrustCliner™, pressing into the cushioned support. At first, his movements were tentative—shallow thrusts, almost hesitant—but as the humpsuit’s responsive fabric began to caress him, a surge of sensation quickly followed. His rhythm deepened, becoming more fluid, driven by the heightened sexual arousal the suit brought with each subtle motion.
Mrs. Rosemont retrieved her smartphone from the counter. “With the gentleman’s permission, may I share this demonstration on our website? We like to showcase the pleasurable experience of clients.” Without waiting for his agreement, she proceeded to record his thrusting. “Naturally, all personal details will remain private.”
Peter’s face flushed a deep scarlet as he panted in short, quick gasps, driving himself forcefully against the cushion. Each thrust brought a wave of exhilarating, intense arousal, building towards a promised release. Yet, the oversized genital pouch of the humpsuit frustrated his goal, leaving him yearning for more friction and pressure where he craved it most. The excess space inside the penis sheath denied him the tight stimulation he desperately sought. His mind was fogged by desperation as he struggled futilely in the ThrustCliner™, longing for the climax that eluded him, always just out of reach.
Lost in his desperate lust, Peter did not at first notice a soft rustle, the sound of footsteps from yet another visitor. He looked up in mid thrust to see a young woman, her slender form accentuated by a fitted yoga outfit. She studied him with casual amusement, taking in the full extent of his predicament before turning to Mrs. Rosemont with a knowing smile.
“Got a new customer, Mrs. Rosemont?”
“Good morning, Lucy,” Mrs. Rosemont greeted her warmly. “How was your class today?”
Lucy laughed, shaking her head. “Hey, You would not believe the mess those wankers made in the studio today—looked like someone set off a sprinkler system in there. I swear, I’m gonna need a gallon of bleach and a full exorcism. I’m gonna make them start wearing rubbers in their humpsuits.”
“Allow me to introduce the gentleman, Lucy,” she said, her tone perfectly composed. “He’s currently enjoying his inaugural experience with a BetaMini humpsuit. Sir, this is Lucy, one of our humpsuit yoga trainers. Our clients receive a 15% discount for her classes.”
Lucy slapped Peter familiarly on his backside, drawing the obvious conclusion from the BetaMini suit he wore. “Oh, hey there, little buddy. Getting your first humpsuit pussy, are you?”
Peter remained frozen, exposed and vulnerable on the ThrustCliner. Mrs. Rosemont leaned in close to Lucy and whispered, “The gentleman is having a little trouble with his finish. He’s quite small for this suit, and I’m afraid the sheath is playing the tease. Lucy, may I ask you to offer encouragement to the young man?”
“Sure thing. The old one-tit-out routine?”
She dragged a chair over to sit directly in front of Peter, her movements relaxed and languid. She spread her legs apart, displaying the crotch of her colorful yoga suit, her pussy lips clearly outlined by a prominent camel-toe beneath the thin fabric. Peter’s eyes widened at the show specifically for him. Without a hint of bashfulness, she reached for the top of her outfit and pulled it down, revealing one ample breast.
“You totally get this, hon’? You know the drill? Sure, you’re that sort of boy. Time to rock it, stud, get your hump on.”
With her encouragement, Peter’s fervpr intensified. The sight of Lucy in the classic one-breast-exposed “Jerk for Me” pose, her legs spread to reveal the perfect puss—a pussy Peter could never truly possess—drove him into a frenzy of desire.He thrust into the ThrustCliner with newfound vigor, pressing his throbbing penis into the padded leather and straining against the wrist straps in helpless ecstasy. The presence of the two women—observing him, bearing witness to his humiliating and pitiful mimicry of copulation with a lifeless piece of furniture—only heightened his excitement. Peter groaned aloud as he edged closer and closer to climax.
Sensing his excitement, Lucy pulled down her suit to reveal her other breast, prompting Peter to emit a raw and primal moan. With one last urgent push, the long-awaited climax surged through him, as he ejaculated deep into the penis sheath in powerful bursts. His cries of delight echoed around him, gradually fading to breathless gasps. Exhausted yet triumphant, Peter finally collapsed against the ThrustCliner™, exhaustion mingling with a sense of victory at having finally reached his ecstatic finish.
As he lay limp and unmoving, Mrs. Rosemont unfastened Peter’s restraints and Lucy retrieved a towel from a nearby shelf. She handed it to Peter as he emerged from the ThrustCliner. Appreciatively, he wiped himself down, feeling both shy and exposed after the intensity of his climax.
“Congratulations, Sir,” Mrs. Rosemont praised him with a knowing smile. “The gentleman did very well for his first time. Was the experience satisfactory?”
Peter stood there panting slightly, still coming down from his post-orgasm high. “That was…amazing,” he said breathlessly.
Lucy bubbled, “You were like so into it! You’re a natural humper.” Peter’s face glowed at her praise, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of a successful sexual performance—indeed, of being called a “natural”—even if it was only a pathetic imitation of the real thing. “I almost wished you were humping my pussy. Almost. You’ll totally rock with a suit your right size,” Lucy said with a wink. “See you in class, little buddy.”
Mrs. Rosemont assured him. “The proper sized suit will be even more satisfactory. It will be here in a week. But would the gentleman care to take this one also with him today? Many of our customers express a certain attachment to the suit of the first hump,” she explained with her professional expertise.
Lucy giggle, “Yeah, like it’s your first pussy.”
Peter thanked them both before heading out of the store, carrying his new humpsuit under his arm, excited to return home for more practice. As he exited, Mrs. Rosemont called out, “Be sure to check out our spring/summer collection, perfect for warm weather humping in public.”
— end —
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The Humpsuit | by Richard Lovel | Copyright 2025 | All rights reserved
RL-2025-04-18 revised