I sat there and read the words for a second time:
Knock twice then open the door and come in. Close the door behind you. Remove your shoes and socks then stand and wait for direction. Do not say a word the entire time unless you are instructed to or are asked a direct question. Any deviation from these directions and you will be asked to leave immediately. Do you understand?
My fingers wanted to jump on the keyboard and respond but I was trying to be reasonable and think it through. I wanted this. I've wanted this for a while now and here it is in front of me and I'm wondering if I'm too scared to make the jump. So many things can go wrong. What if someone saw me going into his house? What if my wife found out? Those questions and more swirled inside of my head but I continuously came back to the same point; this is exactly what I've been looking for.
I needed to respond, its been too long and he's going to wonder if I'm chickening out. I have to do this. I don't think I'll ever find a better situation.
Yes, um...Sir (?). I'll be there shortly.
Ugh, why do I type like that. If I want to call him Sir so bad just do it until he tells me not to. I grab my things and rush down the hall to the bathroom. Quickly I wet some paper towel and slide into the stall and lock the door. If I were at home I could do some better freshening up, but if I were at home I wouldn't be doing this at all right now.
Out of the stall, out of the bathroom, out of the building and into my car. A minivan, what a terrible vehicle to be driving to something so risque. Off I go into uncharted waters. I'm not as excited, appendage-wise, as I thought I would be. When I was emailing him I could have lifted weights with it but now it's somewhere in between. I must be nervous.
Gripping the wheel tight with one hand I use the other to begin rubbing between my legs, trying to energize myself once again. Its working. Thankfully he doesn't live far and within a few minutes of driving and grinding my palm into my zipper I pull into his driveway. Deep breath.
Getting out of the car and walking up to the door I feel butterflies. Any work I did on the way over is completely undone. I don't know what he looks like. I know a brief description of him but nothing more. 55, short greying hair, kept in shape, 6 ft 1 in, 6.5 inch cock, thick, cut, D&D free. All of it perfect in what I was looking for but he could still look like an ape. What if he's hideous and wants to kiss me? What if he reeks of cigarettes? Deep breath.
Knock, Knock. I open the door and slip inside, closing it behind me.
I turn around and take a glance around the house. A hallway to the right. A doorway to the kitchen directly in front of me. Living room to the left with the dining room behind it. He's sitting on the couch in the living room facing the television, which is in my direction.
I remember my orders and remove my shoes and socks. I place them off to the side out of the way and slip my keys in one of the shoes so they aren't misplaced later. I stand and wait for further instructions. I can see the flashes of color from behind the screen but can't tell what's on it. It must be on mute. I don't look directly at him but also don't want to appear too nosy so I move my area of attention from my feet to the doorway in front of me then after a few seconds back to my feet.
When the volume comes on I don't move at all but I can tell he's watching porn. He raised the volume a couple of notches so faint moans can be heard. A man's voice asking whether or not another individual likes his cock followed by more moans and slurping sounds. My host speaks up and tells me to come and stand next to him and I hurry over and stand at his side.
"You like the look of that?" He asks me, nodding towards the screen.
Turning to look I see two naked well-built men, one on his knees providing oral sex to the other. There is a third naked man in the background watching them and silently stroking his impressive erection.
I nod and whimper pathetically, "yes...sir."
His name is still a mystery to me. In the name column for his emails is merely his email address. He signs every email with a single letter, "D" and he answered my ad on craigslist and I never asked his name when we were communicating. He's sitting on his couch, laid back and relaxing in a t-shirt that clings to his chest along with some grey briefs and nothing else. He is well built as advertised. Not overly muscular but enough that you can tell he has a daily regimen. His short, salt and peppered hair is fading but prevalent enough to cover from coast to coast. He has a strong, rugged face and looks like he always has a bit of stubble on his neck in need of shaving. His hands are large. His left between his legs massaging while his right grips the remote.
"You want to do that to me?" He asks. His gaze never moves from the screen.
I look towards him and then down, watching his left hand continuously massage between his legs.
I nod again, "ye-yeah."
"Good. Then stand near the wall. Place your palms flat against it with your legs apart," he orders.
He drops the remote on the couch and stands up. His briefs are being stretched out as his massaging has done its job perfectly. I move a couple of steps over to a blank spot on the wall so I wasn't looking at a picture or decoration of some kind and place my palms flat against it and separate my legs shoulder width apart.
He moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist while leaning his lips against the back of my ears, "I hope you're ready."
