I had been out of school for a couple of months. I was living in a small, walk-up studio apartment with Kurt near the east village. I had taken a job answering phones at an office building, uptown. My job had nothing to do with my degree but the pay was OK and, for the most part, I liked the people I worked with. When the phones weren't ringing I got to write, so it was good.
I had taken off early that day and been lucky with the subway, no waiting, plenty of seats. I got home pretty quick. When I opened the door I saw Kurt, he had one hand on the wall and was leaning over the bed.
Before I go any further, I should tell you something about Kurt. Kurt was a beautiful man, as well as a handsome man. He was tall, just over six feet, dark skinned, and broad shouldered. His torso tapered down to a thin waist and he had hard abs and a hard ass. I think you could open beers on his ass without any trouble. His biceps were impressive and when he would take me in his arms I felt safe, and protected. He wore his hair clipped short and spoke with a delicious accent. Kurt was from Zurich originally. He spoke German, Italian, French, and English and could shift effortlessly from one to another. He would always correct me when I told people that he spoke German, "No, CJ," he would admonish gently, "I speak Schweizerdeutsch. It's different."
Kurt was a photographer who worked nights at an upscale restaurant to make ends meet. He was a warm and generous lover who always made sure that I was satisfied. He was a man's man who just happened to enjoy wearing women's underwear and who didn't have a very big dick. Fully erect his cock was just over four inches long and narrow in girth, but he knew how to use it effectively. I loved it. I loved his cock. Kurt made me feel like a deep throat queen.
Anyway, back to the story. That afternoon, I came home to find Kurt leaning over the bed, his left arm extended over the headboard and supported him against the wall. He had a photograph that he had taken of me on the bed. I knew the picture. In the photo I was dripping water, wet and wearing a little shiny blue bikini. The top was modest but I had pulled the front of the swimsuit bottom out and was looking down inside them. You couldn't see my face, my nipples, my pussy, or my ass. Not even my pubes were visible in the photo but Kurt loved that shot. He often told me how sexy I looked in it, and how it never failed to give him a hard-on.
Anyway, he was leaning over the bed, looking at a photo of me. He was wearing nothing but one of my sports bras and his dick was in his hand. He was masturbating. He stopped when he heard me come in and looked over his shoulder at me.
"Damnit Kurt," I said, "You're going to ruin more of my clothes. You're going to stretch that bra all out of shape."
