First Experinences Pt. 02

The following week John and I met again for a game of squash and he invited me back for supper.  We met on a Friday evening so that it didn't matter if I stayed over a little later. Again, the changing rooms at the sports centre were unavailable so we returned to John's house.

As before, he suggested I run the bath while he got the drinks. He showed me up to his bedroom and told me to get undressed and run the bath while he made us a drink. He had a massive bed and I noticed that there were several mirrors around the room so I could see my reflection everywhere I turned. I stripped off and returned to the bathroom to run the bath, as John returned with the drinks, like last week there was a large jug and two glasses.

He sat on a stool beside me while I climbed into the bath and he poured me a glass and handed it to me with a smile. He put his hand in the water and trickled it down my chest, his fingers lingered on my skin for a second before he poured some more water over me. His fingertips traced a slow line down my stomach, sending shivers through me--each accidental brush against my hipbone felt deliberate, electric. The cocktail burned my throat, but it was nothing compared to the heat pooling low in my belly under his gaze.

I watched as John undressed and joined me in the bath. His tanned body slipped into the water and the warm liquid rippled around us. While taking a sip from his glass his other hand reached out to stroke my thigh. His fingers traced circles over my skin, not tickling, but pressing with just enough pressure to make my breath hitch.

The warmth of the bath did nothing to disguise the goose bumps rising across my arms as his fingertips skimmed higher, along the inside of my thigh, barely grazing with his touch. My cock twitched against my stomach, already half-hard under his teasing. My pulse jumped when he leaned in and murmured, "Turn round and move closer so I can wash your back and neck ".

I twisted awkwardly in the water, splashing a little as I repositioned myself between his legs, my skin now prickling with anticipation. His hands slid over my shoulders, his thumbs gently kneading the tension from my muscles, before one palm drifted lower, his soapy fingers tracing idle patterns down my spine. The scent of ylang ylang filled the steam between us, mingling with the salty tang of sweat from our earlier squash match. His touch lingered at the small of my back, teasing the sensitive skin there before dipping lower, fingertips skimming just above the cleft of my ass.

John moved forward and reached around me with his left hand, I could feel the sudden press of his cock hot, hard against my spine as he began lathering soap over my chest in slow, deliberate strokes. His other hand kept tracing idle patterns along my ribs, each pass lingering just a little longer than necessary, his fingers catching against my hardening nipples. I found this relaxing and quite dizzying, the the soapy feel of hi palm sliding against torso, the way his hips rolled subtly behind me, pressing that thick length into my back every time he leaned forward. My breath came uneven as his soapy fingers brushed my own neglected hardness beneath the water, just once before retreating with a quiet chuckle.

"Your stomach's still smooth," he murmured, dragging his nails lightly through the lather coating my abdomen. "But here." His hand slid lower, fingertips rasping over the sparse stubble along my inner thighs, making me jerk. "See? Already prickly again." His voice dropped lower, lips grazing my shoulder. "We must fix that before it gets worse".

He had me turn and face him again. The water sloshed as he nudged my legs apart with his knee, lifting one of my calves onto the edge of the tub. The razor's cool metal glinted while his other hand squeezed warm water down my leg, slow, like he was savouring the way my muscles tensed under his touch. "Keep still," he warned, pressing the blade just above my knee, and I froze, pulse hammering. The scrape of steel against skin sent a thrill through me, as he worked upward in slow, methodical strokes, rinsing the blade between passes.

By the time he'd finished both legs, I was shivering despite the heat, my cock straining against my stomach. His palm slid under my thigh, lifting slightly as he murmured, "Now arch your hips up, let me get the rest." My face burned as I obeyed, raising my hips just enough for his fingers to reach my pubic area, and I bit my lip when his thumb brushed the crease where thigh met groin, pausing there like he owned it.

The razor made a quiet hiss against my skin as he dragged it carefully through the low stubble. Every stroke felt unbearably intimate, not just the scrape of the blade, but the way his free hand braced against my lower stomach, pressing down just hard enough to keep me in place. "So obedient," he murmured, rinsing the razor again before tilting my chin up with two fingers. "You trust me with a blade this close to your pretty cock?"

His laugh was low, warm, and I couldn't help but gasp as he traced the razor along the sensitive skin below my navel, leaving me smooth and exposed. "Now," he said, voice dropping to a husky whisper, "lift your hips properly, let me see what I'm working with." The water sloshed as I arched up further, my cock bobbing against my stomach, already leaking. His fingers slid lower, cupping my balls just long enough to lift them slightly, the blade following the tight curve of skin with amazing precision. My whole body trembled, but I didn't dare move.

His grip tightened on my hipbone, holding me steady as he dragged the razor through the sparse hair at the base, each stroke deliberate, unhurried. The heat in his gaze was worse than the blade, dark, possessive. I moaned when his thumb brushed the underside of my cockhead, smearing pre-cum before returning to his task.

By the time he finished, my legs were trembling from holding the position, my skin tingling everywhere he'd touched. He rinsed the razor one last time, then leaned in to blow softly across my newly bare skin, watching the way I shuddered. "Perfect," he murmured, before standing and pulling me up with him, water cascading off our bodies. The cold air hit me like a slap, but his hands were already reaching for the plush towel, wrapping it around my shoulders before dragging me close enough to feel his erection pressing against my hip.

The cocktails had left me loose limbed and quite pliant, my movements now sluggish as we stepped out of the tub. John's fingers lingered at my waist while he toweled me off, rough over my shoulders but almost teasingly slow along my inner thigh until I was panting, my cock twitching against the cloth. He smirked when I reached for his towel in return, my hands unsteady as I blotted the droplets clinging to his chest hair. The scent of ylang ylang clung to his skin, stronger now that we were out of the steam, and I caught myself leaning in to inhale deeper before catching his amused expression.

He draped the short kimono over my shoulders, silky against my warm freshly shaved skin. The fabric barely reached the middle of my thigh and gaped open when I moved. John's gaze darkened as he adjusted the belt himself, knuckles brushing my lower stomach. "Better," he murmured, before leading me downstairs where he turned on the TV and video, while he went into the kitchen to prepare a light supper.

This video involved two schoolboys and a headmaster; the boys had been caught smoking and had been sent to the master's office after school to be reprimanded. I watched in amazement as the two boys were told to drop their trousers and underpants and bent over the master's desk, whereupon the headmaster took a large cane and swished it in the air before he caned their bare bottoms.

The first boy whimpered as the cane whistled through the air, landing with a sharp crack across his pale cheeks. His fingers clutching the desk, his knees trembling as the headmaster paused to admire the rising welt. The second boy, with a scattering of freckles on his face, flinched visibly when his turn came, hissing through clenched teeth as the strokes landed in quick succession, each one drawing a muffled groan. The headmaster's stern gaze never wavered, but it was clear from the bulge in his trousers that he was enjoying his work.

John returned with a plate of cheeses and biscuit with pickles and grapes. His eyes flickering between me and the screen as he settled beside me on the sofa. "Their skin's not as smooth as yours," he remarked casually, popping a grape into his mouth while the cane struck again, this time drawing a startled yelp from the freckled boy. I swallowed hard, acutely aware of how the kimono's silk clung to my damp thighs, how my own body remembered the sting of the razor. John's fingers brushed my knee, his thumb tracing idle circles that sent heat prickling up my spine.

The video shifted to show the headmaster gripping one boy's hips, forcing him to arch his buttocks higher while the cane tapped against his welted cheeks, testing and teasing. My breath caught when the he dragged the tip down further, pressing into the crease where thigh met arse. I didn't realize I'd squeezed my own legs together until John chuckled. "Don't squirm," echoing the headmaster's own command from the screen as his hand slid higher, fingertips skating under the kimono's hem. "Watch how he takes it." The boy onscreen whimpered but held position, his shoulders shaking, and I felt my cock throb in sympathy, or was that envy? I felt somewhat confused.

John left briefly and returned with two fresh cocktails, the ice clinking as he nudged my knee apart with his own. "See how red he is?" he whispered, handing me the glass before tracing a single finger down my inner thigh, while watching the cane's slow and precise descent. I nodded, swallowing hard as the boy's cheeks bloomed darker with each stroke, his cries pitching higher. The cocktail's citrus bite couldn't distract from the heat pooling low in my belly, nor the way John's thumb now circled my kneecap, almost possessive, approving, as if he knew exactly how my pulse now raced.

The headmaster scooped cream lazily from a tub, working it between his palms before smoothing it over the welts, his fingers lingering just long enough to draw a shudder from the boy, it was obviously very cool against his hot cheeks. He pressed deeper with each pass, his thumbs gently kneading into the swollen flesh until the boy's hips jerked forward and I was surprised to see the boys erection bobbing against the desk's edge. John exhaled sharply beside me, his grip tightening on my thigh as the man's fingers dipped lower, deliberate, trailing down the cleft to cradle the boy's balls with a gentleness that now made my own ache in sympathy.

The screen froze mid-stroke, John's thumb hovering over the remote as he turned to me. "You need this too," he murmured. I looked up shocked at what he meant, before he nodded toward my thighs where the razor had left faint pink streaks. The kimono slithered to the floor before I realized he had untied it, the silk pooling around my ankles. He left and reached over to a coffee table and returned with a frosted glass bottle. "Stand up with you legs apart," he told me, and I obeyed, bracing one hand against the wall as his fingers skimmed up my calf. Cold at first, then warming as he worked the cream into the sensitive hollow behind my knee. His touch was gentle, meticulous, circling each tiny nick until my skin hummed under his hands.

He knelt lower, massaging the cream into the crease where my thigh met my groin, his thumbs pressing just hard enough to take my breath. The scent of aloe and something darker,patchouli perhaps, clung to his fingers as they traced higher, brushing the underside of my cock where it strained against my stomach. "Almost done," he murmured, though his hands slowed further, kneading the cream into the freshly shaved skin below my navel until it gleamed. I bit back a whimper when his nails grazed my hipbones, the cream cooling the heat but doing nothing for the way my pulse now pounded under his fingertips.

"Now, bend forward properly," he instructed, his palm flattening against the small of my back, forcing me down. The position left me exposed, my buttocks tilted upward, and I clutched the sofa arm to steady myself as his fingers resumed their slow circles, this time lower, slicking cream along the tight curve of my balls first, then dragging downward in one agonizingly slow stroke. The shock of contact there, intimate, clinical, made me flinch, but his free hand clamped on my hip, holding me in place. "Easy," he whispered, his voice thick with something that wasn't quite amusement. "You're doing so well boy."

His fingertip pressed into the cleft, the cream easing its path as it traced a deliberate line upward, pausing just below my hole. My breath rose, audibly, but he merely hummed, applying more pressure now, massaging in slow, widening circles that left my knees weak. This sensation was totally foreign to me, intrusive in a way that sent heat prickling up my spine, and I groaned when his thumb replaced his finger, rubbing firmly against the tight furl of muscle. "Relax," he murmured, though I noticed that his own breathing had gone uneven, the hand on my hip tightening possessively. I was a little surprised at this but he said I was not to worry about his touch.

John withdrew with a final pat on my cheek, tossing the towel down onto the sofa telling me it would protect it from the cream as I as I sat down. The kimono stayed crumpled on the floor where I'd stepped out of it, now forgotten.

John pressed play again. On screen, the headmaster loomed over the kneeling boys, cane tapping idly against his polished shoe while they shuffled forward, trousers still tangled around their ankles. The freckled boy moved first, knees scraping awkwardly across the hard parquet floor until his forehead bumped the man's thigh. The headmaster's fingers grabbed his hair, his grip tightening when the boy hesitated. "Now," he murmured, thumb brushing the boy's swollen lower lip, "show me how sorry you really are. Unzip my trousers."

The rasp of his trouser zip filled the room as the second boy obeyed, fingers trembling but precise. John's breath caught when the headmaster's cock sprang free, so thick and flushed against the starched white of his shirt, just as his own hand settled heavily on my thigh. The boys exchanged a glance, pupils wide.

Once they had unzipped the headmaster's trousers he told the boys they were to fondle and stroke his cocks which they began to do. As they reluctantly did so, it grew harder and larger still. I was amazed and couldn't take my eyes off it, it must have been ten or more inches long.

The freckled boy hesitated only a heartbeat before wrapping both hands around the shaft, the pre-cum beading at the tip smearing across his knuckles as he worked it. His friend's fingers overlapped his, their movements clumsy at first, then syncing into a rhythm that drew a low groan from the headmaster.

The boys were now stroking the headmasters cock individually and together. Whilst I was watching this, I became aware that John was stroking my thigh, his fingers mirrored them, his thumb circling the crease of my thigh, his nails scraping higher with each pass. Initially I sat quite rigid and focused on the video, as his hand moved slowly up my thigh towards my genital area. I was aware that my breathing had become heavier, but I continued watching the video not daring to look up. My cock twitched against my stomach, already slick where it pressed against the towel beneath 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 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 penis, 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 queue 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 penis, 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 this 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.