My squash games with John turned into a regular part of my weekly routine, and I found myself really looking forward to them more and more. Sometimes, he would invite along another guy who was a little older than me, which definitely made things more interesting. With the three of us playing together, we also started showering afterwards. The older guy, Stephen, who was probably about three years older than me, seemed pretty relaxed with the whole situation. I suspected he had done this kind of thing before, but I’ll get into more about him later.
After we changed, we’d usually head upstairs to the sports centre’s bar for a drink. I didn’t drink much, but Stephen would often get me a large glass of orange juice to help recharge my batteries. It always had a strong flavour to it, and I noticed it made me feel quite calm and at ease. Meanwhile, he preferred gin and tonic.
There was a time when the sports centre was being renovated, and the changing rooms were closed. During that time, John invited me over to his house to freshen up. He lived alone in a big, impressive place, and when I walked into his living room, I was a bit taken aback by the large erotic paintings and black-and-white photos on the walls. There were even a few small sculptures, including a replica of Michelangelo’s David and other art pieces that focused heavily on the male form.
John suggested I start running the bath while he mixed us some drinks. I hopped into the bathroom, took off my clothes, and filled the big tub with warm water. He came back with a sizable jug of a cocktail he had made and two glasses. We both got undressed and slid into the bath together. Instead of just rinsing off, we started to wash each other. I sat with my back to him so he could clean my back, and then he asked me to lift so he could wash my backside. When it was my turn, I got to wash him too, and it was clear we were both enjoying the moment.
Once we dried off, he handed me a short, silky robe to put on. We headed downstairs, where he put on a video. As I sipped on the cocktail he mixed, I noticed that I was beginning to like it. The video turned out to be a pretty explicit one that showed a group of young men having fun together. I felt surprised by it, but also a bit excited. John then started to stroke me under the kimono, which wasn’t very modest, and leaned in to kiss me. I remember kissing him back, feeling a bit dizzy, and before I knew it, I must have dozed off because I woke up later, realising the video was over.
When I regained consciousness, I noticed my robe was wide open. John seemed to be asleep as well, and because it was getting late, I quickly got dressed and left. That was my first time visiting his house.
The next day at work, John called me into his office and showed me some photos he had taken of me while I was sleeping. I was shocked to see I looked so vulnerable, with my robe open and my erection visible, and his hand resting nearby. He said I looked sweet and innocent, and that he couldn’t resist taking the photos. He assured me they would stay private as long as we remained friends. I didn’t even remember him taking those shots and wondered if he had mixed a little extra alcohol into those cocktails to help me relax. When he asked if I liked the video, I admitted that I did, and he encouraged me to come over more often.
After we wrapped up our squash game, I decided to visit John on a Friday evening. That way, I could stick around for dinner without worrying about heading home too early. Unfortunately, the locker rooms at the sports centre were closed again, so we made our way to John’s place instead.
Just like last time, he asked me to start filling the bathtub while he prepared our drinks. He led me upstairs to his bedroom and told me to get ready while he whipped up something nice to drink. His room had a huge bed, and I noticed mirrors positioned around that reflected from different angles. After changing into my bathing suit, I headed to the bathroom to fill up the tub. By the time John returned with our drinks, I was all set.
He walked in with a large jug and two glasses, flashing a friendly grin. Taking a seat on a stool near the tub, he handed me a glass just as I climbed into the water. I could feel his fingers brush my chest, lingering for a moment before he poured more warm water over me. His touch sent shivers down my stomach, and every gentle slide against my hipbone felt electric. I took a sip of my drink, which had a bit of a kick, but the warmth spreading through me under his gaze was even more intense.
Before long, John slipped off his clothes and joined me in the bath, his tanned body making soft ripples in the water. He took a sip of his drink and started running his fingers along my thigh. The way he traced slow circles on my skin put my senses on high alert, and I could feel my breath catch.
Even though the water was warm, goosebumps popped up on my arms as his fingers danced higher, playfully teasing the inside of my thigh. I felt a stirring beneath the surface, and my heart raced when he leaned closer and whispered, “Turn around and get a little closer so I can wash your back and neck.”
With a mix of excitement and nervousness, I twisted in the tub, splashing a bit as I settled between his legs. His hands glided across my shoulders, kneading away the tension in my muscles, which made me relax almost instantly. I felt one of his hands wander lower, soapy fingertips tracing patterns along my spine. The steam filled the air, and the sweet scent of ylang ylang mingled with the sweat from our earlier game. His touch lingered at the small of my back and seemed to tease before brushing just above my backside.
John pulled in closer, wrapping one arm around me while the other hand began lathering soap on my chest in slow, purposeful strokes. I could feel the warmth radiating from him as he pressed against my back, moving his hips subtly each time he touched me. I caught myself breathing a little unevenly as his fingers slid against me, igniting every nerve and sending shivers through my body.
“Your stomach’s still smooth,” he said, playfully tracing his nails through the soap on my abdomen. “But look here.” His fingers grazed the soft hair on my inner thighs, and I could feel my body responding to him. “You’ve got hair here.” His voice dropped to a soft murmur, his lips almost brushing my shoulder. “We really need to do something about that, don’t we?”
He had me turn to face him again, adjusting my legs gently with his knee and lifting one of my calves onto the side of the tub. I felt the coolness of a razor as he drizzled warm water down my leg, taking his sweet time, almost savouring the way my muscles tensed under his touch. “Stay still,” he said as he pressed the blade just above my knee, and I felt a rush of excitement mixed with a bit of apprehension. The gentle scrape of steel against my skin sent chills through me as he worked his way up, rinsing the blade between strokes.
By the time he had finished shaving both of my legs, I was shaking a little, even though the water was warm. I became acutely aware of my own body and the tension building inside me. He lifted my thigh slightly and said softly, “Now arch your back a bit; let me get the rest.” My cheeks flushed as I followed his direction, raising my hips just enough for him to reach my pubic area. I bit my lip, feeling his thumb brush against my skin where my thigh met my groin, stopping there like he was claiming that space for himself.
The razor rasped softly as it glided across my skin. Each stroke felt oddly personal, more than just the sharp edge against my body; it was the way his hand pressed gently on my lower stomach, holding me in place. “You’re so good,” he said playfully, rinsing the blade before tilting my chin up with two fingers. “Do you really trust me this much with a razor so close to your sensitive spots?”
He chuckled softly, and I found myself gasping as he carefully ran the razor along the tender skin just below my navel, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. “Now,” he said in a low, enticing voice, “lift your hips a little, let me see what I’ve got to work with.” As I arched my back, my cock brushed against my stomach, already starting to leak. His fingers moved lower, lightly cradling my balls for just a moment, the blade following the curve of my skin with incredible accuracy. I felt my body shaking, but I stayed completely still.
His grip on my hip tightened, steadying me as he moved the razor through the thin hair at the base with relaxed, careful strokes. The heat in his eyes was more intense than the blade itself—dark and possessive. I let out a soft moan when his thumb brushed against the sensitive tip of my cock, gathering the pre-cum before refocusing on his task.
By the time he was done, my legs were quivering from holding my position, and every place he touched tingled with awareness. He rinsed the razor one last time, then leaned in to blow gently across my freshly shaven skin, making me shudder. “Perfect,” he whispered, then stood, pulling me up with him as the water cascaded off both our bodies. The chilly air hit me sharply, but his hands were already wrapping a plush towel around my shoulders, pulling me close enough that I could feel his dick pressed against my hip.
I felt a little light-headed from the cocktails, my movements slow as we stepped out of the tub. His fingers lingered at my waist while he dried me off, rough across my shoulders but teasingly gentle along my inner thigh, making me breathe heavier and my cock twitch against the towel. I couldn’t help but smirk at his amused expression when I reached for his own towel, my hands a bit unsteady as I dabbed at the droplets on his chest while inhaling the sweet scent of ylang ylang that clung to him, stronger now that we were out of the steam.
He draped a short silk kimono over my shoulders, the fabric cool against my freshly shaved skin. It barely covered my thighs and gaped open as I moved. His gaze darkened as he adjusted the belt, his knuckles brushing against my stomach. “Much better,” he said softly before leading me downstairs, where he turned on the TV and video while he went into the kitchen to whip up a light supper.
The video involved two schoolboys and their headmaster. These boys were caught smoking and, as a punishment, they had to go to the master’s office after school for a serious talk. I watched, a bit astonished, as the headmaster instructed them to drop their trousers and underwear, bending over his desk. He then took out a cane and swung it in the air before landing it firmly on the boys’ bare bottoms.
The first boy winced as the cane made a sharp crack against his skin, his fingers dug into the desk as he tried to hold still, his knees shaking. The second boy, who had freckles sprinkled across his nose, flinched noticeably when it was his turn. He let out a hissing sound through clenched teeth as the strokes fell rapidly, each one causing him to let out a small, muffled groan. The headmaster, while strict, didn’t seem to hide his enjoyment of the situation, evident from how he was visibly pleased with the showing.
That’s when John walked in with a plate full of cheeses and biscuits, pickles, and grapes. He exchanged brief glances between me and the video as he settled next to me on the sofa. “Their skin isn’t as smooth as yours,” he mentioned casually, popping a grape into his mouth right as the cane struck again, causing the freckled boy to yelp. I felt my heart race, acutely aware of how the silk kimono clung to me. John’s fingers brushed against my knee, gently tracing patterns that sent a shiver up my spine.
As the video continued, the headmaster was seen gripping one boy’s hips, guiding him to arch his back more for better access. He tapped the cane against the boy’s already marked cheeks, testing the space before dragging the cane lower, almost teasingly. At that moment, I realised I was unconsciously squeezing my legs together until John’s soft chuckle drew my attention. “Don’t squirm,” he echoed a command from the screen that made the atmosphere feel charged. My breath caught as I watched the boy whimper but maintain his position, his shoulders trembling slightly. I felt an odd mixture of sympathy and confusion about my own response to the scene.
John stepped away for a moment but came back with some fresh cocktails, the ice clinking in the glasses. He nudged my knee gently with his own as he handed me a drink. “Look how red he is,” he said quietly, as his finger traced down my inner thigh while our eyes were glued to the screen. I nodded, trying to focus on the cocktail’s zesty flavour to distract from the heat pooling in my belly. Meanwhile, John’s thumb traced my kneecap lightly, almost possessively, and I sensed my pulse quickening in response.
We then watched as the headmaster took some cream from a tub, warming it between his palms before applying it to the boy’s welts, making him shudder from the coolness against his heated skin. With each stroke, the boy’s body jerked, and I was surprised to see him visibly aroused, pressing against the edge of the desk. John drew in a sharp breath beside me, gripping my thigh tighter as the headmaster’s fingers moved lower, gently caressing the boy’s most sensitive areas with a delicacy that made me ache in sympathy.
Just then, the video froze at a pivotal moment. John’s thumb hovered over the remote as he turned to me and said softly, “You might need some cream too.” I looked at him, a bit shocked at where he was going with this, but he nodded toward the faint pink marks on my thighs from a recent shave. Before I knew it, my kimono had slipped to the floor, pooling around my ankles. John quickly left the room and returned with a bottle of cream, telling me to stand with my legs apart. I did as instructed, bracing myself against the wall as his fingers glided up my calf, initially cold but warming as he spread the cream into the sensitive skin.
He knelt, applying the cream to the area where my thigh met my groin. His touch was careful and deliberate, tracing each small mark left by the razor. The scent of the cream filled the air, mixing with the tension that hung between us. “Almost done,” he said, though his movements slowed considerably, lingering just below my navel. I struggled to suppress a sound as his nails grazed my hipbones, the cooling cream contrast only increasing the heat throbbing beneath.
“Now, bend forward properly,” he instructed, pushing gently against my lower back. This left me exposed, my body arching as I gripped the arm of the sofa for support while his fingers returned to slow, soothing circles—this time lower and slicking cream methodically along my sensitive skin. The sensation made me flinch, but his other hand held me steady, his voice thick with an unidentifiable feeling. “Easy now, you’re doing really well.”
His fingertip sank into the cleft, the cream sliding along as it traced a careful path upward, halting just shy of my… well, you know. A sharp inhale escaped my lips, the sound hanging in the air, but he just hummed softly, pressing deeper now, his fingers working in slow, deliberate circles that made my knees feel like jelly. This was a sensation unlike any other—intrusive, yet it sent a wave of heat prickling up my spine. I couldn’t help but groan when his thumb took over, rubbing firmly against that tight little muscle. “Relax,” he whispered, though I caught the hitch in his breath, the grip on my hip tightening with a possessive urgency. Surprising, yes, but he insisted I shouldn’t fret about his touch…
With a final, gentle pat on my cheek, John withdrew, tossing the towel onto the sofa—”It’ll keep the cream from ruining the fabric,” he said as I settled down. My kimono lay crumpled on the floor, a forgotten relic of the moment.
He pressed play again. The screen flickered to life, revealing the headmaster towering over the kneeling boys, cane tapping rhythmically against his polished shoe while they shuffled forward, trousers still tangled around their ankles. The freckled boy was the first to move, knees scraping awkwardly against the unforgiving parquet floor until his forehead bumped against the man’s thigh. The headmaster’s fingers tangled in the boy’s hair, tightening as hesitation crept in. “Now, Boy!” he murmured, thumb brushing against the boy’s swollen lower lip, “show me how sorry you really are. Unzip my trousers.”
The sound of the second boy unzipping the headmaster’s trousers filled the room as he obeyed, fingers shaking but still accurate. John’s breath missed when the headmaster’s cock popped out, so thick and bright against the starched white of his shirt, just as his own hand was going down my thigh. The boys looked at each other, their eyes getting bigger. After the boys had unzipped the headmaster’s trousers, he told them that they were to fondle and stroke his cock, which they started doing. As they did it hesitantly, it got even harder and bigger. I was amazed and couldn’t take my eyes off it; it must have been ten or more inches long.
The freckled boy broke eye contact for a beat before gripping the shaft, pre-cum beading at the tip and smearing across his knuckles as he went to work. His friend’s hand covered his. At first, their movements were awkward, then they fell into a rhythm which had the headmaster groaning.
The boys were at it with the headmaster’s cock individually and at the same time. As I watched, I felt John running his hand over my thigh. His touch was a mirror image of what was happening to me; his thumb was at my thigh fold, and his nails were going higher with each pass. At first, I sat very still and paid attention to the video, as his hand went slowly up my thigh toward my genitals. My breath had become heavier, but I stayed focused on the video and didn’t dare look up. My own cock was moving against my stomach, also wet where it was pressed against the towel under me.
The headmaster’s hips jerked forward, his cockhead glistening as the boys took turns now running their tongues along the underside, hesitant at first and then desperate. The wet, obscene sound of them slurping at him in tandem filled the room, punctuated by John’s quiet hum of approval beside me. His palm slid fully over my groin now, cupping the heat there without pressure. I dug my fingers into the sofa arm, torn between arching into his touch and bolting, but the video held me captive. The boys’ lips stretched red around the thickness, spit dripping down their chins.
The boys in the video were now taking turns to lick the headmaster’s cock, slowly at first, but with increased confidence and vigour, until the headmaster placed his hands on each of their heads and gently pushed them down onto his shaft. The boys took this as a cue to take his cock more fully into their mouths, which they did, their lips moving sensually up and down his shaft. By this point, John’s hand was gently stroking my cock, which was fully erect now. I could feel myself twitching in his hand, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me.
John leaned in and whispered into my ear, “Do you see how obedient they are? Would you like to try that?” I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say, but my body responded before I could form any words; my hips lifted slightly, pressing into his hand. John chuckled softly, his breath warm against my neck. “That’s a good boy,” he murmured, his fingers tracing slow circles around the tip of my cock.
On the screen, the headmaster groaned as one of the boys took him deeper, tears welling in the boy’s eyes, but his lips never leaving the thick shaft. My own breathing became louder as John’s grip tightened just enough to make me whimper. “You’re doing so well,” he said, his voice low and approving. “Just relax and let yourself go, let yourself go.” The mix of the video’s sounds, John’s touch, and the lingering scent of shaving cream and cocktail sweetness overwhelmed me, my thoughts scattering into pure sensation.
John’s other hand slid behind my neck, guiding my head down toward his lap. The silk of his kimono brushed against my cheek as I hesitated, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Go on,” he urged, fingers threading through my hair. “Show me you can be as good as they are.” The command sent a jolt through me, part fear, part exhilaration. But I obeyed, nuzzling against the fabric until I found the warmth beneath. His erection strained against the silk, and I fumbled with the tie of his kimono, my fingers trembling.
The moment the fabric fell open, the sheer size of him took my breath. Up close, the thick veins and the musky scent of his skin made my mouth water in a way I didn’t understand. I glanced up at him, seeking reassurance, and found his gaze dark with hunger. “Use your tongue first,” he instructed, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Like they did in the video.” The comparison made my face burn, but I leaned in, tentatively lapping at the swollen head. The salty tang of precum hit my tongue, and I moaned, partly at the strange taste and partly at the way his hips jerked in response.
John’s grip in my hair tightened, not painful but insistent, as he guided me further down. “That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough. “Take more.” The stretch of my lips around him was almost too much, but the sounds he made, low, guttural groans, seemed to spur me on. I could feel him watching me, could see the mirrors reflecting my flushed face and slick lips working his cock, and the humiliation of it coiled hot in my stomach. Yet, beneath that, something else bloomed, a desperate pride at how much pleasure I could give him.
Saliva dripped down my chin as I struggled to accommodate his girth, my jaw aching. One of his hands left my hair to cup my throat, his thumb pressing lightly against my Adam’s apple. “Feel that?” he murmured. “That’s where I’ll be soon.” A threat or promise? Whatever it made me whine around him, my cock twitching untouched between my legs. The video’s audio still played, the wet sounds of the boys’ mouths mingling with mine.
Suddenly, John pulled me up by my hair, leaving me gasping and dazed. “Stand up,” he ordered, swiping his thumb across my slick lips. When I obeyed on shaky legs, he guided me to kneel on the towel, facing the sofa. “Brace yourself,” he said, pushing my shoulders down until my face pressed into the cushion. His hand smoothed over my bare bottom, then, without any warning, he landed a sharp smack that sent a jolt through me. The sting burned, but the way my body arched into it betrayed me. “Such a greedy little thing,” he chuckled, rubbing the heat away before delivering another, harder slap.
Behind me, the rustle of his kimono hitting the floor took my breath away. His weight dipped the sofa as he knelt behind me, one hand gripping my hip while the other teased my entrance with slick fingers. He pushed a little deeper. The stretch burned at first, but the cocktail’s warmth in my veins dulled the edge. “You’re so tight, relax,” he murmured against my ear, nipping the lobe. “You want this, don’t you? Watching those boys take their punishment like good little sluts.” His words whirled around me like smoke, thick and intoxicating, as his finger probed inside me, just enough to make me cry out.
The stretch turned hotter when he added a second finger, scissoring slowly. My vision blurred at the edges, fixated on the screen where the headmaster now fucked one boy’s throat while the other watched. John’s rhythm matched the video’s lewd sounds, his fingers twisting until my thighs shook. “Look at you,” he growled, licking the sweat from my neck. “Clenching around me like you’re scared I’ll stop.” I wasn’t; I was terrified he would. Every drag of his knuckles against that secret, swollen spot inside sent ripples through my spine.