“I had a feeling you’d like it like that,” he said. “Hard rather than soft.”
“I can’t believe I let you do that,” I sighed, “but . . . god, it was amazing.”
“I think we’d better get you to bed,” he said.
“I’m sorry about your sofa,” I said, rolling on to one side and blushing with shame as I saw the mess I’d made of the throw.
“It’s okay,” he grinned. “I’ll put it in the wash. Come on, young man. You need bed.”
He stood up and held out his hand. I sat up gingerly and got to my feet. He smiled at me.
Impulsively I put my arms around his neck and kissed him, and he hugged me. Then I let go and rested my head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling him fondly.
“If you liked it that much,” he said, “perhaps…you’d like to do it again?”
“God, yeah,” I said, grinning up at him. “But I don’t think I could do it again right now.”
“I don’t mean that,” he said. “I mean, perhaps you’d like to stay for a couple of days? I could, um…show you some of the other ways to do it.”
“I”d love that,” I said simply.
“Then I’ll be very happy to have you as my guest,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you the facilities.”
We left our clothes on the living room floor and he showed me around the house. I couldn’t help grinning at the strangeness of it; two naked men, one twice the age of the other, walking around a house as if the one were showing it to the other one as part of a real estate deal. Finally, he directed me to the bathroom for a shower and went to the kitchen to get us water.
The house was air-conditioned and beautifully cool. I had a welcome shower in which I washed off the secretions on my body, then I dried myself and slipped along the corridor to the bedroom.
The Toyboy Experiment: A Steamy Gay Adult Story You Don’t Want to Miss
He wasn’t there. I slipped under the sheet of the kingsize bed and lay back, reflecting on the unexpected turn in my luck; that morning I had been a lonely straight guy trying and failing to score with women, and this evening I was a young man apparently entering on a fling with an older man. It went against most of the things I’d thought about myself.
And yet, I liked him, I found him charming and I couldn’t deny that he had just almost literally fucked my brains out. If he found me attractive, that was enough for now.
He entered the room, carrying a tray with a jug of iced water and two glasses. He poured one for me. He was wearing a towelling bathrobe, which he took off, revealing once more his lean, tanned body; he had no tan lines, suggesting that he knew a place to sunbathe nude. We drank, looking at each other, and then he turned the light out and we lay down. I curled into him and he held me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?” he said.
“Thank you for having me,” I said with a grin, remembering the old phrase I was taught to say when saying goodbye to someone I’d visited. He obviously knew it too, for he laughed quietly.
“I’ve always liked the old Greek tradition,” he said, “in which an older man would take a younger man for his lover.”
“I think they were both a little younger than we are,” I said. “You should be in your forties and I should be about 16.”
“You know the classics?”
“I did them in college.”
“Clever as well as cute,” he said and his arm around me squeezed slightly.
“You can still be the older one,” I said. “You could teach me a lot.”
“Oh, I intend to,” he said. “The teaching experience is an essentially erotic one.”
“Especially if it involves a lot of sex,” I said.
“Don’t be impertinent,” he said. “Or you’ll be punished.”
“Ooh, really?” I said, grinning in the dark. He was silent for a moment.
“You like punishment?” he said quietly.
“I think we’ve established that I like . . . something like that. You knew exactly what I needed and you gave it to me.”
“Well . . . ” he said, “if you’re really interested in that kind of thing, perhaps we could come to . . . some kind of arrangement.”
“You mean . . . ”
“I mean,” he said softly, “if you really want, you could be my slave. I have some experience in that line of thing.”
I thought about this.
“Maybe we could just try me staying here for a while,” I said. “I’m new to this.”
“Of course,” he said. “Get some sleep.”
At some point, I drifted off and I don’t remember my dreams.
TUESDAY
I woke up alone and naked in the bed, and for a moment I didn’t remember where I was.
Then it came back. I had been invited on a date by a guy older than my father. I had accepted. We had had a meal, gone for a walk, and kissed. Then he had taken me to his house and stripped me naked and fucked me until I barely knew my own name.
I blushed crimson with the memory of it, and John chose that moment to enter the room with a tray carrying orange juice, coffee and toast. He was wearing his bathrobe.
“Hello,” he said with perfect ease, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, to walk in on a naked younger man in your bed with breakfast for two. He pulled up the fly screen and opened the shutters, and sunlight streamed into the room.
“Hi,” I said.
“Sleep well?”
“Very well, thanks,” I said. He put the tray on a trestle across the bed and got onto the bed, then pulled it up. I sat up, careful to keep myself covered below the waist.
“I hope you like coffee,” he said, “I haven’t got any tea.”
“Great,” I said. I let him pour me some. I felt unaccountably shy. He sipped his coffee and turned to me and his expression was frank and slightly amused.
“Alex,” he said, “I had a wonderful time last night and I think you did too. But I understand if you’re having second thoughts. It’s your first time with a guy. If you just want to go, that’s okay. I won’t be offended.”
“Thank you,” I said softly, surprised at how well he knew what I was thinking.
“But,” he said delicately, “if you do want to go, maybe you should. There’s nothing worse than the awkward breakfast the next day.”
I sat in the bed, aware that there was only a sheet between me and him.
I thought about what he had done to me the night before, and how it had felt, and how there really wasn’t anything he could reduce me to that he hadn’t already. I had let him strip me, roll me over and fuck me senseless. I had wept and cum in front of him — he’d made me do both.
It was warm under the sheet. I kicked it down my legs so that I was sitting naked on the bed next to him, exposed. I smiled at him.
“I’d like to stay,” I said. He beamed.
“Good,” he said.
We ate breakfast and then had a long lie-in, with him next to me in his bathrobe and me naked beside him, listening as he told me more stories. It was another very hot day.
We lay in the heat, and he said “Tell me your sexual fantasies.”
“What kind?”
“The stranger the better,” he said.
I thought for a while. He was lying behind me, dressed in his bathrobe, spooning me; his hand was on my naked hip.
“I used to have this fantasy,” I said. “We had this book about wildlife and it had lots of pictures of animals in and some of them were extinct. One of them was a kind of prehistoric lobster or prawn thing, anyway it was a crustacean, and it was about twelve feet long, I think. Anyway it was huge. And I had this fantasy, I remember,” I said, laughing, “that I wrote it down . . . I had this fantasy that I was walking on the beach with this girl I knew who I fancied, and this lobster thing suddenly crawled out of the sea . . .”