A little note of explanation is in order, as this story represents a change of pace for me. I had one of my favorite men over recently and asked him to tell me a fantasy about the two of us that he hadn't shared before. I was so delighted and turned on that I wrote it down as a story, from HIS perspective. Oh, and then we fucked for hours. :) Enjoy.
*****
I had no idea what was coming. I arrived at 1:43 pm and we kissed inside your front door. Then I hung up my wet jacket in the closet.
"Do you want a cup of tea?" you asked. You were wearing a pale pink silk dressing gown that showed off your cleavage in a white, lace bra. Your tits looked incredibly full and succulent. I'd been thinking about sucking them as I walked over the bridge in the rain.
"Sure, Earl Grey would be great."
We sat down at your new glass table while the kettle heated up and pushed our chairs together. You showed me the Bettie Page coffee table book you'd ordered off Amazon. I could tell your mind was somewhere else, not really on the pictures, even though we were both enjoying them.
"You like that one, don't you?" you said, pointing.
Bettie was dressed as a 50's housewife, turning her head from the stove, ass thrust slightly out in her pencil skirt, wearing tall thick heels.
I nodded, feeling the flush, the rush of blood to my cock, the tightening of my asshole. Of course I did.
You put your arm around me, hand resting lightly on my ass. "Nice and firm. Did you wear your Saxx underwear for me today?"
"Uh huh. The pair with the apartment building and silhouettes of people in the windows on it."
You smiled. "I wonder what kind of voyeur designed them. Somebody like me, I bet."
The kettle started boiling and you got up to make the tea. Thrusting your ass out like Bettie, a taunting smile on your face. Knowing how fuckin' hungry you make me.
"Did you jerk off today?" you asked me with an edge in your voice.
"No, it was all I could do to focus on the technical white paper I was writing," I said.
"That's good," you said. "You can keep your hands off your cock a little bit longer. I've got a treat for you."
You opened the fridge and took out a small mason jar full of milk. You poured a generous dollop into each of our mugs, and handed me one.
I took my first sip. "Thank you. This is really good."
You were watching me closely with a slight smile. "It is, isn't it?"
Something about the tea was just heating me up. Not just my cock: my hands and feet and everything, the top of my head. I felt this rich sense of fullness as I looked at you and watched you drinking too.
I often don't take milk with my tea, but it seemed like just what I needed on a rainy March afternoon.
You pointed to the kitchen counter. "Why don't you bring the box of tea bags over here?"