It was a cool, pleasant summer evening.
When I arrived at the address, I was quietly impressed. It was a little way out in the country and the satnav directed me onto a driveway between two brick pillars, each with a statuette of a lion upon it. The black, cast iron gates were wide open and seemed almost to usher me in. I felt vaguely stately as my car crunched slowly up the long gravel drive.
The garden was large and well-manicured. I wondered if a single gardener tended to it, or if there was a team of them. The grass was artistically mown, the hedges trimmed into fun topiaries. Bushes, shrubs, plants and trees seemed too randomly placed, not to have been put there with care. A large pond was sunk into the ground, and a fountain spurted peacefully, gently-flung droplets of water glinting in the tired light of the setting sun.
The house stood at the end of the drive, overlooking this quiet slice of Eden with calm serenity.
I’m useless at dating houses, but the large white house was what I tend to think of as Georgian. It was square and proud, with large windows and a neat, understated symmetry. It looked tidy and well looked after and from the outside, I knew that it would be immaculate inside. As I pulled my car up next to an Aston Martin that was parked casually near the front door, I breathed in the fresh evening air. I hardly realised that I was smiling, sadly. The house, the car – and, of course, the reason for my being here – it all amounted to the life that I had always wanted. It was the life I dreamed of.
At thirty-six years of age, it was probably a life I would never now achieve.
I turned off the engine and climbed out of my car. The gravel drive under my feet was well-laid. It felt thick, almost like a carpet. I glanced up at the gaping windows of the house – they were spotlessly clean and reflected the evening calm – closed the car door, and made my way to the house.
On the phone, Dennis sounded nice.
It was my lucky day. I had put in the winning bid for an absolutely stunning Omega watch that he was selling on eBay and I got it for a steal. I was keen to get my hands on it as quickly as possible. Because he lived less than twenty miles away, I wanted to know if he was happy for me to pick it up in person. I was impatient.
I fired off a quick message to this effect and Dennis messaged back with the simple note: Sure, give me a call and we’ll arrange a time. His phone number was attached.
The phone call was quick. We agreed a time and he gave me his address. He sounded genuinely happy for me that I had won the watch and said he was looking forward to meeting me. Like I say, he seemed like a nice guy.
My instinct was right.
When Dennis answered the door, after I had rung the ornate bell-pull, I warmed to him immediately. He was a clean, handsome man. He must have been in his mid-to-late fifties and had a self-assured, easy way about him. That night he wore jeans and a shirt, and brown slip-on shoes. His blue eyes were soft but full of life and he had a warm, genuine smile. His grey hair, flecked with black, didn’t make him look old.
“John?” He asked, warmly. I nodded and smiled back. Smiling was easy, in this man’s company.
He opened the door wide, inviting me in. I had assumed that this would be a simple door-step transaction, that he would dive back inside, fetch the watch and wave me goodbye. The fact he invited me in seemed natural. It was his way. And he clearly had a warm sense of courtesy.
When he closed the door behind me, the hallway became immediately hooded in that warm summer dimness that we forget so easily, in an age when it is so easy to switch a light on. I could see everything around me, but it was all in darker, deeper tones. There was a wooden floor, wooden panelled walls, a large mirror and a picture of a shepherdess from days gone by. It felt antique and oddly comfy. Dennis walked past me and opened a heavy wooden door. It swung open soundlessly and beyond, I saw a room that looked like a lounge. It had a cream carpet and plush furniture. An expensive smell of wood and chrome and leather wafted out as he opened the door.
He stood in the doorway politely, as he asked me to step inside. As I stepped past him I detected a subtle cologne that was new to me.
Five minutes later, I was sitting in that lounge on a cream leather couch. The room was large and stretched from the front to the back of the house. A large window at each end of the room let in the evening light. Elegant furniture was tastefully placed about the place. There were pictures on the walls and another large mirror.
A glass of red wine sat before me on a stylish coffee table and in my hands, I held the watch. It was a thing of beauty, solid and detailed, with a heavy silver strap and a jet-black face. It felt weighty in my hands. It felt expensive, and oozed style and charisma. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
“Well? What do you think?” Asked Dennis. I glanced up at him. He was sitting opposite me in a cream swivel armchair. casino oyna He sipped some of his own wine and the finely-cut glass glinted in the fading light.
I shook my head. I felt mesmerised by the watch. I’d wanted an Omega ever since I could remember. It was a Bond thing.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I said, simply.
Dennis was nodding.
“There’s not a watchmaker like it in the world,” he said. “Class and style and a subtle, really subtle charisma. That’s what you get with an Omega.”
“There’s something very sensual about it too,” he added, thoughtfully. I nodded again. Sensual seemed a curious word to use about a watch, but somehow he was absolutely right. It was sensual.
“So what do you do?” He asked, after a silence that was long, but not uncomfortable.
“Yes. Work. What do you do?”
I felt a bit bashful, given the wealth around me. My job was not going to set hearts racing. When I answered, it was with feigned self assurance.
“I work in books,” I said. His eyebrows rose.
“Er…” My facade crumbled and I relaxed. “Not quite. I work in a bookshop.”
I expected him to wither and draw things to a close. Instead he looked genuinely interested.
“You lucky thing. I love books. That’s one of my dream jobs. It really is. How long have you been working there?”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Three years, or so. I love books too. What do you do?”
At my question, he seemed a little deflated. He shrugged and sipped his wine.
“I’m in finance.” He looked me in the eye, thoughtfully, and took a gulp of his wine. “I’ve got a business in the city. I trade, I buy, I sell. It’s….it pays well. I’ve been lucky. But it’s not books.”
And the conversation moved on from there. Once we started talking books, and careers, and dreams and aspirations, we just seemed to find a natural meeting place. Dennis, it turned out, was a frustrated artist, who liked to paint. I was a frustrated writer, who longed to have the space and time to write more. We discussed the nature of creativity and discovered we had a lot in common. We talked about art and creativity, the collective unconscious and the soul. As we talked, the light in the room grew more and more dim. It got to the point where we were sitting in near darkness, though through the window, the blueness of the sky could still be seen.
Dennis poured more wine into my glass.
“And what about your love life?” He said, sitting back in his chair. “Is there someone significant?”
Something about that question excited me, though it was perfectly innocent. My cock stirred in my trousers. I shook my head and studied my glass.
“No. I’m single at the moment. I came out of a relationship a year or so ago. I’ve been enjoying my own company, if I’m honest.”
“Yes. You get to that stage in your life, don’t you? I’m pretty similar. I’ve got friends that I see, and that does for me really. You find you get more comfortable with yourself, as you get older. You feel whole. You don’t need that other half, in the same way as you did when you were younger.”
I smiled at that. Dennis demonstrated quite a talent for putting my thoughts into words.
“It’s dark,” he said, finally. “We’ve been chatting away. I didn’t even notice!”
I laughed. In the faded light he looked vital and exciting. He was pleasant to look at.
“You haven’t even tried your watch on,” he said.
I realised he was right. The watch was on the arm of the chair. I’d almost forgotten about it. I picked it up and looked at the strap, to put it on. There was a catch on it, that looked fiddly. Dennis must have thought of it, because he stood up, put his glass of wine down and moved towards me. He pulled the watch gently from my hand and it slid from between my fingers. It felt silky and hard.
“There’s a trick to it,” he said, in a soothing tone. “Here, I’ll put it on for you.”
It should have felt strange, this weird intimacy with a stranger, but it didn’t. I was wearing a t-shirt, so I just held out my arm for him. In the darkness he felt very close. He smelled pleasant and his body felt warm. He put the watch on my wrist, in an easy, skilful movement. As he did so, his fingers brushed against my arm. The touch felt electric and it made my heart beat more quickly. My cock twitched.
When he pulled away he stood before me, moving his gaze between my face and the watch.
“It looks good on you,” he said.
I looked at the watch on my arm. It looked great and I admired it happily.
I thanked him, almost bashfully.
He stood for a few moments looking appreciative, almost proud. He seemed to be thinking, to be considering. Finally, he spoke.
“It looks really good on you. I’m talking as an artist, not just as a bloke.” He smiled at me, as he continued to admire the effect. “It looks…the contrast…it looks quite wonderful. The silver and the black face, against your skin. It’s a picture.”
“Thanks. It feels great.”
“Yeah. canlı casino I bet. Listen…” He looked resolved to get something off his chest. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way. Don’t think I’m talking out of turn. I really don’t want to offend you.”
I looked at him blankly. I tried to smile, to let him know that I was comfortable with him getting whatever it was out into the open. The mood between us was good.
“The thing is,” he looked me in the eyes, and I saw sincerity there. “It does look good on you. But it would look amazing…I’m talking as an artist here, please don’t be offended…it would look amazing if you were naked.”
This time my cock didn’t just twitch. It grew quickly and I felt it, hard and erect, pressing desperately against my trousers.
I didn’t know what to feel. But I wasn’t offended.
Dennis looked at me, awkwardly. His smile was placating but he looked uncomfortable, and I could see that he was worried he had offended me.
I couldn’t hide the look of surprise on my face. I didn’t quite know how I should look, what an appropriate reaction would be. The thought of getting naked, here in in a stranger’s home, so that he could see me in nothing but a watch that he had just sold me…
The idea excited me. I couldn’t deny it to myself. It excited me.
I licked my lips. My heart was pounding; my cock pressed against the material of my trousers.
“Would you like to see?” I heard myself ask. I was almost out of body when I said it.
Dennis smiled, whether from relief, or anticipation, or both, I wasn’t sure.
“I really would. God, yes.”
I thought for a moment, trying to reason with myself. I was conscious of my hard-on and I was embarrassed by the idea that he would see it, and he would know I was excited by being naked before him. For him, this was art. For me it was something different. This whole situation was arousing for me.
“Okay.” I stood up. Dennis remained just a few feet away, watching intently. I felt wonderfully salacious as I peeled off my t-shirt and dropped it on the sofa behind me. The air in the room was warm, but for a few seconds it felt cool against my naked skin. I felt liberated, to be undressing for this man. I saw his eyes roam over my torso, looking at my chest and my tummy, my shoulders and my arms. The watch sat tight against my nakedness.
I could have left it there. I think it was a moment at which I could have saved us both any potential embarrassment. Afterall, he was seeing the watch, now, against my nakedness. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to show him more. I wanted to give him more.
I slipped off my shoes. My feet were already bare. The carpet was soft against the soles of my feet; another reminder of the intimacy of what I was doing. I shifted my feet on the carpet and a bolt of electric moved up my leg and tickled my groin. My cock was throbbing and it strained against the fabric of my boxer shorts.
Slowly, deliberately, I unbuckled my belt and undid the fly on my trousers. I eased the zipper down, and as I did so my hand brushed against my straining penis. I licked my lips, loving the simple moment of friction. I looked at Dennis and saw him watching, mesmerised. His eyes moved from my fly to my face, and when I began to shift my trousers down, over my hips, he seemed unable to take his eyes away. I eased them down, past my thighs, over my knees, until they were at my feet. In a practiced movement, I stepped out of them and kicked them lightly away.
I stood up straight, and turned to face Dennis once more. We stood in the gloom, but we could see each other in the half light. My boxer shorts that night were grey, and he would have seen the bulge that defined them so deliciously. I was wearing nothing else – apart from the watch. I was all but naked before this man, naked in a stranger’s house, for his pleasure. He drank me in, his eyes caressing me from just a few feet away.
I smiled at him. I felt seductive. Empowered.
“What do you think?” I asked, with a suggestive smile.
His eyes rested on the watch, then once again, travelled over my near-naked body.
“Just like I thought,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “It looks amazing. I wonder what it would look like if…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. I wonder what it would look like if you were completely naked. That’s what he wanted to say. I had no intention of leaving my boxer shorts on. This whole situation felt strange to me, but it felt good. It felt right. I wanted this man to see my cock. I wanted him to see me completely naked.
As I slipped my thumbs inside the waistband and gently eased the shorts down, I bit my lip unconsciously, in a gesture I would usually define as feminine. I saw Dennis swallow as my cock was revealed, hard and erect. It pushed out of my shorts, gratefully. As it did so, I felt it push up into the open, and was grateful for the cool air that brushed over it.
I took my time, easing the shorts down to my ankles, then kicking them away. And there I was. Naked and kaçak casino exposed.
I stood proudly, meeting Dennis’ appreciative gaze. His eyes stroked me, I could almost feel featherlight fingers on my skin. I was aware of the watch, a bold statement on my wrist. In that moment, I believed that Dennis was right. The watch against my nakedness was art. It was how it should be.
“Well?” I prompted. My heart thumped against my ribs. My cock felt more naked than it had ever felt before. My balls hung between my legs, and I was conscious of them. Heavy and full.
“I was right,” Dennis said, almost in wonder. “It looks amazing. You look amazing.”
Something prompted me to show him the rest of my body and I held my arms out a little, as I turned away from him, showing him my back and my arse. I remained in position, facing away, unaware of any effect I was having on him. I stared out of the window, and saw that the sky was now a dark blue colour. In another ten minutes, the night would be dark. I stood, gazing out at his garden, completely conscious and yet almost oblivious to the fact I was exhibiting myself to him.
When I finally decided to turn to face him once more, his face was beautiful and entranced.
“Are we done?” I asked, warmly. “Have you had enough?”
It was a sincere question. If he wanted me to stay naked, so that he could enjoy his artistic moment, I didn’t mind.
“I don’t think I could ever have enough,” he whispered. The effect was like gentle fingers on my cock. It jerked with visible excitement. Dennis saw it and he looked at me, searchingly. Meeting his gaze, I glanced down at my dick then looked him in the eyes once more. It was an instinctive gesture, basic and primaeval. I was giving myself to him. And on that basic, instinctive level, he understood my invitation perfectly.
I could see that he too, was breathing hard as he took a step towards me. A step was all it took. His face was close to mine, his body just inches away. Our eyes were locked as he reached between us and found my cock with his hand. I gasped when he found me, a small, exquisite intake of breath. I felt the lightness of his touch, as his fingers wrapped softly around my hard dick and began to move up and down with the gentlest of rhythms. I am not circumcised, and he worked me expertly, rolling the foreskin of my cock over the head with delicious attentiveness. I sighed, feeling the tension of the evening melt into his hand as he wanked me, perfectly and slowly.
With my cock between us, being worked and loved and enjoyed, his face leaned in to mine and he kissed me, suddenly. It took me by surprise. I loved it. His lips were soft against my own, but he pressed with a soft, sensual urgency. His tongue pushed between my parted lips and into my mouth, and I savoured the taste of him. The taste of red wine and sensuality. Getting over my surprise, I kissed him back, pushing his tongue back with my own. He let me enter his mouth and for a while our tongues, wet and excited, fought and danced as we enjoyed each other.
The rhythm of his hand on my cock got a little faster. It wasn’t much, but was enough to build my excitement further. I groaned into his mouth while he masturbated me, his hands stopping now and then, only to reach down and gently tickle my balls. Once or twice he cupped my bollocks, as if he was weighing them. I loved that. His touch was so gentle.
I realised I wanted more. I pushed him back.
“Undress,” I ordered. It wasn’t a demand. More of an invitation. He obliged immediately, unbuttoning his shirt and wrestling himself out of it. Unlike my disrobing, this was not to be a seductive display. We were past that. It took him no time at all to get out of his trousers and his briefs and to my delight he was naked before me. I gazed admiringly at his body, a little stocky but still toned. His chest was hairy, and his cock stood out from a black bush of hair, proud and erect. I saw that he was circumcised. In the shadows of the room, the head of his cock looked taut and shiny. I imagined how tasty and delicious it would be.
He stepped back into me, to continue where we had left off. This time he did not take my cock in his hand. Without a word, he pushed his body against me, while he kissed me urgently. It was passion. We pressed against one another, our cocks moving against each other. I felt how hard he was, his dick pressing against mine. As we kissed, our hips writhed slowly and we found a rhythm that allowed our dicks to enjoy each other. When we lost the rhythm, and our cocks stumbled over the other clumsily, it was frustrating and exquisite.
My hands moved behind Dennis and I found his pert bum, soft and inviting. I caressed it with my fingers, pulling his cheeks apart suggestively, and loving the ripeness of him. He reciprocated and I savoured the sensation of knowing fingertips moving gently over the sensitive cheeks of my butt. He traced lazy patterns in my skin. His touch was so light. So light. It felt like the gentlest touch, and it made me crave more. I tried to push my arse back against his fingers, trying to get more friction, to stop the wonderful, gorgeous teasing of his hands. He was better than me, though, and did not give me the firmer touch I was dying for.