I’d been invited to a dinner by an author who wanted me to illustrate the cover of his book. That’s my job, you see, an illustrator. A moderately successful one, even if I do say so myself. My lodger, James, had agreed to come along with me for moral support. I say, lodger. There have been some perks to the arrangement.
****
Be cool, act disinterested—I’d been giving myself this advice all week, but it wasn’t working particularly well. Last night I’d sneaked into James’ room, persuading him to go down on me. He’s good with his tongue and gave me a beautiful orgasm. I rewarded him by taking his cock down my throat, making it obvious how much I delighted in him ejaculating in my mouth. We didn’t fuck. I told myself that was a win, that I was playing it cool.
When we woke in the morning, James offered to make me some coffee. He was obviously comfortable in my house, confidently wandering out of my bedroom stark naked, returning a few minutes later holding two cups of coffee, having not bothered to swing past his bedroom to put on some shorts.
“You are aware the neighbours will get an eyeful?” I said, sounding prudish.
“I didn’t think, whoops!”
“You’re still good for tonight?” I checked.
“Sure, all good. What’s the dress code?”
“It’s a nice place. Jeans and shirt, I reckon.”
“That’s a relief. I thought I was going to have to pop to Burton’s to get a suit.”
“Funny.”
The day slid past quickly. I didn’t achieve much, but I didn’t have any particular deadlines anyway. James had been working at home all day, and we had some nice little chats between his meetings. More time than I had intended was spent deciding what to wear. It was a business meeting, so I needed to look professional, but it was a dinner, and I enjoyed titillating the men in my company. I concluded that a simple black dress was appropriate, but with a plunging neckline that showed a decent amount of cleavage.
“James, are you ready? I’ve ordered a taxi; it’ll be here in five minutes.”
Thumping down the stairs, I wondered if my barking orders at him had made him grumpy, but he arrived in the hallway smiling.
“I’m ready, let’s go?”
All in black—jeans, t-shirt, jacket—James looked quite dashing, although I noted he hadn’t quite followed my instructions.
“Aren’t we the matchy-matchy couple?” I quipped as we walked out the door and headed for the waiting taxi.
Squires, the name of the restaurant, seemed decidedly upmarket and definitely not the kind of place I usually dine.
“This is rather intimidating.”
I took James’ arm for reassurance and because it felt nice.
“Quite,” I replied.
It was true. I’d never been to the restaurant before, which was tucked away down an alleyway in the city centre. The entrance was a dark wooden door, with a simple black plaque outside bearing the restaurant’s name in white. As we walked towards the door, it opened. An elegantly dressed older man greeted us.
“Good evening. Miss Toogood, Dr Herdiman, you are most welcome. Mr Fernsby is waiting for you upstairs. Please follow me.”
James looked at me as if to say, “What the fuck,” which made me giggle. I had tried to look up the place, but found barely anything beyond a holding page and a number to call for more information. We walked up a narrow, dimly lit staircase to a reception area, where our escort introduced us to a rather attractive, elegantly dressed hostess who smiled and welcomed us.
“Let me take you to Mr Fernsby. Follow me, please.”
To our left, there seemed to be the main dining area, with a small number of well-dressed diners, mostly older men with obviously younger, somewhat more attractive dining companions. James had clearly made the same observation, giving me a silent, intrigued look. The hostess headed in the opposite direction, and we dutifully followed. We entered what appeared to be a private dining room.
“Mr Fernsby, your guests have arrived.”
Standing, Jonathan smiled at us and opened his arms in greeting.
“Jayne. Hello, hello. How lovely to meet you.”
Jonathan walked towards me and kissed me on both cheeks.
“Let me look at you properly. Ravishing, just delightful.”
Our host’s enthusiastic welcome put me at ease; his tone was just camp enough to suggest that he was as queer as the protagonist in his novels. A strikingly handsome man, more so than in the photographs I had seen, Jonathan was elegantly dressed: navy suit, white shirt, pocket square.
“And your friend Jayne, what a handsome devil. Introduce us, please.”
“Jonathan, this is my friend James.”
“Hello, Jayne’s friend James. It’s a delight.”
“It’s a pleasure,” James politely replied.
“Now shall I order us some drinks, and we can get acquainted,” Jonathan continued.
Jonathan showed us to our dining table, positioning James next to him and me directly across from him. I was somewhat irked by the seating arrangement, but it wasn’t my party.
“Alina,” Jonathan said.
The hostess, who had been watching us diligently, swiftly attended to our table.
“Jayne, James, what can I get you to drink?”
“What would you suggest?” I replied.
“Why don’t we have Martinis? James, would that please you?”
James indicated that this was an entirely acceptable suggestion. Alina wafted away to get our drinks.
“This is quite the place,” I said.
“Do you like? I would confess to owning this establishment. One of my little investments,” Jonathan replied.
“Clearly, writing pays much better than illustration.”
“Oh, darling, writing is an avocation. I made my money through much more traditional means. Shush … Hedge fund manager. Don’t tell anyone. Dirty secret. Although my books are selling quite nicely. I don’t want you thinking I’m some vanity author.”
“No, of course not,” I replied.
“And I guess you want to know why I want you to illustrate my book cover and why I asked you to dinner, which is an unusual thing to do, I suspect.”
“It is, yes, we were a little intrigued.”
I looked at James, who sat quietly observing.
“It’s okay, Jayne, your man is just here, he’s quite safe.” I watched as Jonathan gently touched James’ thigh.
He went on, “My next book is something of a departure from what I’ve done before. I’ve somewhat tired of the crime genre. Need to challenge myself, so I’m writing about the secret history of gay life in the East of England in the 50s and 60s. You’ll enjoy, I think, the tales of hidden communes and debauched behaviours. Being semi-detached from the big smoke, the gays were getting up to all sorts it seems.”
“Seriously, I had no idea,” James interjected.
“Of course you don’t, darling. I sense you’re a little closeted still.”
James gave a wry smile, inviting a more elaborate answer from our host.
“Do you know the story about Holkham Hall Beach?”
“No!” James replied.
“The nudist beach, Wells Next the Sea? What about it?” I said, cutting in.
“Did you know that in the 60s it was a famous cruising spot for gay men? They would come up at the weekends to strut up and down the beach. Many eventually moved to the surrounding villages and settled down, away from London and the gossip. They could live safely. The locals didn’t mind because they generally spent well and gave floundering businesses a boost.”
“I did not know that, how fascinating,” James replied.
Jonathan was a good storyteller and engaged both of us in tales of hedonistic queer life. As our dinner progressed, I warmed to the man. And so did James, who was clearly enjoying Jonathan’s tales. As the desert arrived, the conversation finally turned to me and why Jonathan wanted me to illustrate his book cover.
“You want to know why I want you to imagine the cover for my book, Jayne?”
“I’m intrigued. It’s not something I’ve done before; mostly I’ve worked on kids’ books,” I replied.
“Quite, but when you were a student, your work was a little more avant-garde. Was it not?”
It was true. When I was at art school, my work was more experimental. In my final year, I produced a series of abstract paintings of nude men. A bit pretentious, but I was fascinated by how obsessed men are with asserting that they have the largest cock in the room. And more generally, I find men’s genitalia, simultaneously, grotesque and stimulating; I wanted to try to capture that in my work. The process was fun. I got some of the more impressive students to pose for me, and they were enthusiastic to do so. Probably because they thought that once I’d seen their erection, I would be unable to resist fucking them. Which was partly accurate. I also enjoyed the misdirection—people looking but not knowing quite how pornographic the paintings were. Clearly, Jonathan knew.
“You’ve seen my paintings then, I take it?”
“My darling, I own one of them. Quite outrageous,” said Jonathan, giving a dirty laugh.
Poor James looked perplexed, not knowing what we were talking about.
“Would you like to have a look at mine?” said Jonathan. “I have a photograph.”
“I’m sure you do,” smiled James.
Jonathan passed James his smartphone showing a black and white image, intentionally pixelated to obscure what I knew to be a rather well-endowed man thrusting forward his erect manhood.
“Can you see? Now you know?” Sniggered Jonathan. “Your girlfriend is quite the pornographer!”
“Jayne, you dirty, dirty girl,” said James.
I blushed, almost embarrassed. “I was young, it was an ‘experimental’ phase,” remembering that the guy in the painting had been hot and rather a good fuck.
“I take it that’s the concept you want to go for with your book cover? Obscured pornography,” I asked Jonathan.
“Precisely, my darling, perhaps with a soupçon of homoeroticism.”
Publishers are desperately conservative in nature; certainly, they would not be keen on having an erect cock on the front cover of one of their best-selling authors’ books.
“I see now why you wanted to meet me to explain rather than have your publisher do it.”
“Precisely.”
“We can work out the financials later? I’ll be generous, don’t fret. I like your work, Jayne, and you. You are so much more intriguing than I imagined. Shall we get some champagne to celebrate, and you can tell me more about yourself and your delicious friend?”
I was starting to like Jonathan. He was funny and rather charming. He was also curiously handsome, in an affluent don’t give a fuck kind of way. Quite obviously, he wasn’t interested in me, well, not in a fucking me kind of way. I was wondering if he had his eye on James. An image of Jonathan bending James over the dining table and taking him up the arse—whilst I watched, of course—sparked into my head.
“Jayne, are you with us?” said James, rudely interrupting my little fantasy.
“Sorry, what?”
James passed me a glass of champagne, which I took and smiled.
“Cheers, my darlings, to our little threesome,” Jonathan toasted.
“To a threesome,” I blurted.
“Jayne, Jayne. I thought you were a little more worldly-wise. As delicious as you are, I really have no interest in pussy. Yours or anyone else’s, come to that!”
We all laughed. My faux pas was deliberate, kind of. I’d enjoyed my little fantasy and was wondering if I might cultivate it into reality. I’d not really talked with James about fucking men. There had been an incident in a club where I caught my friend Stuart sucking James off. But James has been rather coy about his proclivities.
“So no threesome then? I’d confess to feeling a little rejected.”
“Sweetie, I doubt very much you’re feeling rejected. I’m sure your handsome boyfriend is more than capable of meeting your needs, are you not, James?”
“I don’t think it would be correct to describe me as Jayne’s boyfriend. I’m her lodger, strictly speaking,” James replied. “But there are certain benefits to our arrangement,” he teased.
“A lodger with benefits, how evocative. So you’re not ‘exclusive’ then? You’re free to explore other areas of curiosity?”
Not fucking other people was another topic we’d never discussed. Whilst I was quite happy for James to do whatever with whoever—whilst I was there—the idea of him with someone else without me sent a nasty twinge through me.
“No, we’re not exclusive,” I replied, perhaps foolishly.
James gave me a look that seemed to indicate that he was surprised by my response. After a slight pause, James confirmed that whatever our arrangement was, it did not prohibit having sex with other people.
It felt as though our dinner was drawing to a natural conclusion.
As I started to prepare to leave, Jonathan confided that he had a little studio apartment above the restaurant and we’d both be welcome to come up for a “little nightcap” if we wanted.
“That would be nice, that’s okay, isn’t it, Jayne?” James mused.
I was intrigued by James’ apparent inclination to continue our evening with Jonathan. There’s only one reason a queer man asks you up to their apartment, and it’s not for a drink.
“I’m game, if you are,” I offered.
Jonathan told the waitress we would all be heading upstairs. Alina acknowledged our departure and wished us a pleasant evening, quite possibly with a knowing smirk on her face. We exited our dining room through an almost but not quite secret passage. Proceeding up a narrow concrete staircase, we came to what might best be described as a gentleman’s den—old furniture, expensive, stylish. The bed was crisp and fresh, with white bedding. There was a high-backed fauteuil in the corner of the room that Jonathan ushered me towards. It was clear that my participation from now on was intended solely as a spectator.
“Drinks, my darlings?”
Jonathan poured whiskey into three exceptionally stylish, heavy-bottomed tumblers. James, still standing, accepted his drink and clinked glasses with our host.
Jonathan handed me my glass. “Here you go, sweetie. Now, what would you like me to do with your boyfriend?”
This pleased me immensely.
“Would you like me to instruct James to undress for you? And just so you know, he is under strict instructions to do exactly as I tell him,” I informed Jonathan, easing into my new role.
“Excellent, I’ve rather been looking forward to seeing your man in the flesh,” Jonathan replied.
“James, take your clothes off. All of them. Do it now.”
There was a slight hesitation, then James bent forward and removed his crisp white trainers and socks. He stood up again, pulled his t-shirt over his head, and dropped it on the floor.
“Good boy,” I praised, “now your jeans.”
He opened the fly of his jeans and pushed them down around his ankles. He kicked them away, so he was just wearing his undies. His crotch seemed to be bulging, and I wondered if he was already hard.
“And now your underwear, let us see your delicious cock.”
James pulled his briefs down, and as he stood, I could see that he was clearly aroused. Jonathan stepped forward and ran his hand over James’ chest, then his belly. I could see his cock visibly harden from the physical contact. Jonathan was clearly impressed.
“My darling James, what a divine body you have. And I have to say that is one of the more impressive members I’ve seen in my, shall we say, extensive experience.”
Jonathan turned to me for instruction. I already knew what I wanted next.
“James, sit on the end of the bed. Jonathan is going to suck your cock. No ice cream licking, Jonathan, I know what you posh boys are like. I want to see his cock deep down your throat. If you don’t do it to my satisfaction, I will be cross, and there will be consequences.”
I hadn’t intended to be such a controlling dominatrix, but fuck, it seemed to be what the boys wanted.
“As you wish,” Jonathan replied.
Dutifully following my instructions, James sat on the bed, leaning back slightly, using both arms for support. Now fully erect, James’ prick invited oral pleasuring. Transfixed by the throbbing hard on, I barely noticed Jonathan disrobe. His body held up well for an older man. Jonathan knelt between James’ legs and waited.
“Take him in your mouth,” my voice commanded.
I watched as Jonathan opened his mouth and started to lick the bell end of James’ prick. He pushed down, taking about a third of James in his mouth.
“That’s pathetic. All of him. I want to see that dick down your throat.”
This was fun. Responding to my demand, Jonathan pushed James deeper down his maw. I was delighted as he seemed to gag.
“Better, but I want more,” I instructed.
Jonathan pushed deeper, taking even more in his mouth. I heard James begin to moan with pleasure. I’d been uncertain if I wanted James to ejaculate in Jonathan’s mouth, but now that I sensed he was starting to get close, I decided I would permit it.
“Make him cum in your mouth, then show me.”
The intensity of oral fucking increased—fast, deep, rhythmical. The pleasure James was experiencing was obvious. He ejaculated, groaning loudly. The tip of his manhood in Jonathan’s mouth, his cock pulsing cum. As instructed, Jonathan turned to me to show me his mouth loaded with spunk.
“Swallow,” I instructed.
Mouth closed, I watched as he swallowed the semen.
“Good boy. Now fuck him.”
“If that’s what you want?” Jonathan replied.
“Oh, it is.”
My cunt was wet. I wanted to touch myself, but my orgasm was not on the agenda, for now. Pleasure deferred is pleasure intensified, I told myself. Jonathan grabbed a bottle of lube from a drawer in the bedside table. Tipping a measure into the palm of his hand, he rubbed himself, serving the dual purpose of hardening and lubricating his cock.
James was lying face up on the bed, still recovering from his orgasm. I’m firmly of the view that anal sex should be hard and from behind. None of these legs akimbo, so you can make eye contact, shit.
“James, get on the floor. I want you fucked like a dog.”
Without speaking, James presented himself in front of me on all fours. Fleetingly, he looked at me to check that I was enjoying myself. My look clearly conveyed that I was. Positioning himself behind James, Jonathan’s dick rested gently between James’ arse cheeks. Impulsively, I got from my chair to get a better view.
“Push into him.”
I watched intently as Jonathan pushed the bell of his prick into James’ anus. He clenched, resisting penetration.
“Relax, let him in,” I told him.
Again, Jonathan pushed into my lover’s arse, this time sliding fully in. James winced with a confluence of pain and delight. Between James’ legs, I could see his now semi-erect dick swaying as Jonathan began to fuck him. I chuckled. As James relaxed, Jonathan responded, fucking more forcefully. I was not expecting Jonathan to last long, and I was right. One final thrust, and Jonathan erupted. He moaned loudly with pleasure, enjoying his climax.
“Good boys, now clean yourselves up and get dressed.”
Men exhibit entertaining post-orgasm behaviours. There was no affection between them; they just got on with the necessary to facilitate a swift departure. I sat back in my chair feeling pleased with myself.
My mind wandered—James clearly enjoyed being fucked in the arse. I’d read about anal orgasms that men can experience. I’d never tried to make a man cum in his arse. Could I give James an anal orgasm? In my experience, men get a bit funny about the topic. But I couldn’t really see how James would be able to say no to me sticking my fingers inside him now. Before I could fully formulate my plan, James interrupted, saying it was time for us to say goodbye and leave.
“My darlings, it’s been a delightful evening. Jayne, let’s talk some more about the book cover. But please know the work is yours if you want it. James, we really must do this again sometime.”
As we headed out into the street, I pondered the notion of Jonathan hooking up with James again. It was not something I had considered, and I confess to being rather taken aback by the suggestion, especially as it seemed I would not be invited to the next party.
“I’ll order a car, shall I?” James suggested.
I mumbled that he should. Our journey back was quiet, not uncomfortably so, but I sensed that neither of us knew quite what to say to the other. When we arrived home, James made it clear he wanted to go to bed. I, however, had a gnawing horniness that needed relieving. Briefly, I considered seeing if anyone was around for a late-night hookup.
Bashing one out with a vibrator seemed my best option. Efficient but unlikely to produce a particularly satisfactory orgasm. Expectations low, I rummaged in the box of delights under my bed, selecting the bullet. Small but powerful. Lying on my bed, my eyes closed. Replaying the images, sounds and smells of the evening made my pussy tingle. I pushed the button at the end of the toy until it buzzed at full speed. Placing it onto my clit caused an almost instantaneous response. I swiftly climaxed. Possibly for an already asleep audience of one, I let out an unnecessary scream of pleasure.
