Night of lodging

I was happy, a little excited even, to provide a night of lodging to Rod,
the fellow from the home office, upstate. We had been working together on
the new facility design for months.
He was gorgeous and I enjoyed the few opportunities I had to be with him
outside of the office — lunches and on one occasion a late night cocktail at
my apartment.
Not wanting to put him off or give him the wrong idea, I offered to sleep
on my couch. Rod laughed looking at the loveseat that I called a couch. Not
necessary, he said.
I didn’t dare assume anything from his casual observation that my king
size bed looked like it could easily accomodate more than just the two of us.
I crashed early, freeing the bathroom for my guest and creating what
privacy I could by my sleep.
I lay quietly for over an hour before I heard him snap off the t.v. and
come in to the bedroom. He stood in the doorway, framed from behind by the
light in the bathroom and gently illuminated from the front by the lamp near
my closet. I feigned sleep, watching him closely through thin, veiled slits.
I don’t know if I was hoping to see him undress, maybe, yes, that was a
hope but one that I wouldn’t let get too high. He peeled off his slacks,
shrugged out of his shirt and stepped out of his sleek briefs. My throat
tightened. God, he looked terrific.
He pulled a dacron night shirt over his head adjusting it around his hips.
After a few moments in the bathroom the light went out and he padded across
the room. I felt the bed adjust itself as he lowered himself gently, even
cautiously, into bed. It was clear he though I was asleep. Minutes passed,
maybe an hour, I couldn’t tell. His breathing slowed, went deep and more
quiet. Eventually I drifted off, too, full of notions and feelings that I
refused to try and articulate for fear of what I might find.
At some point I was wakened by Rod’s movement . I was still lying in the
same narrow corridor of the bed that I had clung to before sleep fell over
me. But Rod had moved. His body cradled–mirrored–mine so that we were
lumped together like spoons. His right arm was draped across my hip, but
other than that we weren’t touching. But, the movement I had felt was a
snuggling as Rod insinuated his body against mine.
I could feel him pressing against my rear. I was frightened. What if he
woke and thought I had arranged myself this way? I tried to roll out from
under his arm but it got heavier and his muscles tensed.
“You don’t have to move unless you want to, Jo,” he murmured.
“Umh,” I grunted back, trying to sound as sleepy as possible.
Now what.if I didn’t move? I’d be telling him something about me that I
wasn’t certain of myself. If I did move I’d not have a chance to, well, to
find out what I could about my private thoughts and feelings. It felt like
it was up to me. I stirred but made no clear effort to get free.
“Do you want to move away,” he asked in the same low voice.
“I don’t know, I guess, …I guess I don’t know,” I stammered. “I guess it
doesn’t matter as long as you’re comfortable,” I said, trying to put it back
on him.
“Do you think it’s wrong to get cozy like this,” he asked directly.
“Jeez, no, I mean we’re both adults and…” I jitterbugged.
“If I’m unattractive to you I can understand why you’d….”
“No, it’s not that, you’re a good looking guy, it’s not that at all,” I
hastened to assure my guest.
“Have you ever relaxed and just felt good about being comfortable and cozy
with someone,” he asked putting it in direct terms again. “A man, that is.”
“Well, you see I….”
“Have you ever spent quiet time with a man,” he persisted
“It isn’t something I, uh, …”
“But you think it’s o.k. to give it a try?”
“Well, you have to understand that….”
“Sounds to me like you’re not sure, but you’re interested in seeing…am I
right?”, he said, quizzing me further, narrowing the field.
“For the most part I guess that’s something that…”, I was determined to
try and complete a sentence. To no avail.
“Do you have a girl friend?”
“Well, no, that is, not right now, you see I just…”
“Whose pink panties are those in the drawer in the bathroom,” his voice
had dropped to a whisper. There it was. Someone found out. I had to be
quick.
“Well, they, uh, a friend left them here a while…”
“A man or a woman,” he asked. I could hear the smile on his face. ”
“While you’re thinking about the answer to that, do me a favor and go get
me a warm wash cloth,” Rod said, momentarily breaking the tension.
I indicated my assent by sliding out from under the sheet.
“If you want to get comfortable in a new way when you get back, just take
a minute while you’re in there and see if you can’t squeeze into those
panties your, uh, friend, left here,” he said as I tiptoed toward the bath.
I just didn’t know what I was feeling as I moved woodenly into the
bathroom and closed the door. I looked at myself in the mirror. I shivered.
My penis recoiled like I had been swimming in ice water. Rod knew, damn it.
He knew in a way that I wouldn’t even admit, what was going on for me.
I picked up the tooth paste as if I was going to brush…then put it down,
turned and pulled the panties out from under a pile of fresh washcloths in
the drawer.

Part 2

I dropped my p.j.’s on the floor and stepped into the panties. Of course
they didn’t belong to “a friend”. Of course they were mine. And Rod knew
it. I untied and re-tied the three little red bows that decorated the crotch
of the panties.
Seeking to delay my return to the bedroom I pulled a brush across my hair
and rolled some deoderant up into my smooth, shaven armpits. In anticipation
of…, of something, I gargled. For a long moment I stood and looked in the
mirror, pirouetting on my toes. They did look good on me. Reassured, for
the moment, I turned and re-entered the bedroom.
Rod had his back to me, looking out the window. He turned as I entered.
“Well, they seem to fit you quite nicely,” he said. “Do they really
belong to a friend?”
“No, they’re mine,” I said quietly. As he stepped forward into the light
I could see that he was naked except for a black, g-string like pouch.
“I thought so,” he admitted. “I don’t think that’s anything to be put off
about. You like to wear them, don’t you. You must feel good in them, so why
not wear them?”
I did not answer. I sat down, stiffly, on the edge of the bed.
“I, I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I admitted.
“Relax,” he said, strolling to the bedstand and turning the radio on low.
“Are you feeling tense?”
“Yes, sort of…., I just don’t know what’s happening and,”
“Shhhhh,” he said in a long, quiet exhalation. “Lie down on your stomach.
Do you have any lotion?”
I motioned toward the top of the bureau, then complied, lying down on top
of the comforter. “Let me see if I can rub you the right way,” he joked,
clambering on to the far end of the bed and bouncing up, over, astride my
legs.
He arranged my hands above my head, crossing the wrists, one on top of
another. I shivered as his hand touched the inside of my thigh, rearranging
my legs so that he straddled but one of them.
I could feel his body heat. One hand touched the top of my shoulder, then
another. He dribbled lotion across the back of my neck and began to knead the
tight coils of muscle there.
The effect was immediate. It was relaxing but I wasn’t getting very
relaxed. His fingers probed and pushed and pulled at me.
“Imagine you’re on the beach and the sun is baking you,” he murmured. I
tried, for a few moments I succeeded, then the vision slipped away as his
hands traced down my back. His palms rested on the pink silk that clung to
my cheeks.
“You’ve got a nice body,Jo,” he said, almost as an aside. “Does this feel
good,” he inquired as he kneaded my behind. “Oh yes,” I was surprised by how
quick and honest my response was.
“I like making people feel good,” he said. “Roll over on your side.”
I did as I was told and he moved around behind me. We were spoons again.
He handed me the lotion. “Put some of this on my hand,” he directed as his
arm snaked under mine and he inched closer. I could feel his breath on the
back of my neck.
I poured a dollop of the lotion into his palm and he immediately applied
it to my stomach. I recoiled at the feel of the cool lotion, backing into
Rod. I could feel his penis against the small of my back. He was rigid. As
his hand lazily rubbed around and around my stomach and ribcage he applied
more pressure, pulling me closer to him.
I leaned forward but stopped short when his fingers captured one of my
nipples and tweaked it firmly. “Rod, I don’t know…”
He cut me short. “You don’t need to know right now. You don’t need to
think. You don’t need to talk. I want to make you feel good. Just let me
do that, Joey, ok?”
Somewhere, some part of me wanted to resist but then there was that
undeniable stirring in that region between my asshole and my belly button.
I was excited. I squirmed.
Rod’s hand disappeared from my view for a moment and he wriggled around a
bit behind me. Now I could feel his penis, bare flesh, stiff, warm, pressing
against my legs. I got brave and said, “Are you getting a little, er,
excited, Rod?”
“Yes, darling.”
I got un-brave in an instant. He said darling.
“I lied to you a minute ago, I don’t just want to make you feel good, I
want to make love to you, Joey. How does that sit with you?” I was quiet
for a long, long minute. “If you don’t say anything I’ll assume that means
it’s perfectly okay with you if we make love and I treat you like the
desireable creature that you are,” he said quietly. His voice was lower even
than the radio that murmured and gurgled across the room. My heart was
beating like a trip hammer. Surely he must feel it.
I heard a voice, my voice actually, but it seemed more distant than that:
“Oh, Rod. I have desires and they confound me. I want to be here, though.
I want to stay here and be with you and do, well, whatever I can to make you
feel good.”
“Whatever you can?,” he quizzed.
“Yes, I want to return these good feelings I have.” Rod’s penis pressed
harder against the back of my thighs. “Don’t worry Jo, I’ll be gentle and
treat you like a baby. I can make you feel real. More real and more alive
than you have ever felt. I’ll make you feel like you are a real girl.”
His hand toyed with my nipples sending electric shocks through my body.
He let his hand trail down to the waist of my panties. His thumb hooked
under the elastic and his fingers lay gently on my crotch.
“You’re damp already Jo, that should tell you something,” he murmured.
His thumb circled around my waist, between my skin and the fringe of the
panty. I could feel his hand leave my body. Is that all, I wondered. Then
his fingers reappeared, pulling my panties high up into the crack of my
behind. Using his hand like a wedge he created a space between my thighs,
and began to feed his cock into the opening, penetrating that most private
space. I was almost shocked when the head of his penis appeared, just inches
below my waist. He wasn’t bigger than any man I had ever seen before but
surely he must be longer than most.
This excited me. I stretched my hands high above my head, twisting the
comforter into little knots. I felt so vulnerable.
“Hold your legs together tightly, Jo dear”
“I am, I will,” I cooed. It felt so good to me, to feel his rigid rod
taking my body. Rod. Rod. Rod’s rod, how appropriate, I thought, feeling
giddy. I moaned as Rod began to gently saw himself between my legs. He
reached around my waist, touched himself for a moment, then put his moistened
hand within millimeters of my lips.
“Taste me.”
In the dim light I could see the lines in his palm and the half-dollar
sized area that was coated with his juice. My tongue slithered out and
touched his hand with its point, circling the moist area then flattening
against it and licking–hard.
It was salty and warm. I was now very hard and excited.
All this while Rod was gently, persistently rubbing himself between my
legs. His hand pulled my panties down and looped them under my scrotum.
“Touch yourself, dear,” he coached.
As my hand touched my penis he renewed his assault on my nipples, pinching
them –first firmly, then gently– rubbing the flat of his hand around and
around and then tweaking at them again with his fingernails.
I took control of my own familiar cockette and milked it from base to
head, quickly drawing up a large bead of juice. I could not reach behind me
without moving too much so I grasped his hand, smearing his palm with my
ointment. His hand dropped to my shaft, capturing it and pulling it straight
out and away from waist.
That really turned me on! I could feel another bead of juice form on the
tip. I moaned with delight as an answer when Rod said, “Oh, Jo! You are so
sweet, my darling.” His hand firmly pumped me in unison with his own sawing
motion.
“Oh Rod, darling. I want to be yours!” Rod began to move much faster.
He let go of my cockette and invaded my behind with his forefinger firmly
stroking up and down the length of my slit–pausing to press his thumb on the
rosebud at its entrance. Without any warning he moaned and stopped moving
between my legs. “Oh fuck! Jo, darling!” I could feel Rod’s penis
pulsate and suddenly he was shooting small pools of hot, oily semen between
my legs.
I lay quiet for a moment then spread my legs and took Rod’s penis into my
hand gently fondling and stroking it. He began to grow hard in my hand.
After a minute or two, but before I could even consider what all had just
happened Rod interrupted my caresses, saying, “Roll over,” and half-pulling,
half-pushing me on to my back as he clambered astride me.