My wife and I live in a quiet subdivision. We are both in our early sixties. I am semi-retired while she is still working. Her job often requires her to travel so I am frequently alone, as was the case on a chilly Monday morning in January.
Over the weekend, two men had moved into the house next to ours. They were about my age. We had introduced ourselves to them on Sunday afternoon. One was named Jeffrey and the other Stephen. Both were in good shape. Jeffrey had retired last year while, like my wife, Stephen was still working. He also was like my wife in that he did a lot of traveling for his job. I had seen his car leave before six in morning that first morning.
I was surprised when the doorbell rang just after ten and it was Jeffrey.
"Hi Eric. I just brewed a pot of this really great Kona coffee and I wondered if you would like to come over and have a cup and tell me a few things about the neighborhood?"
He was an inch or two shorter than my six feet and was clean-shaven with closely cropped gray hair. Not surprisingly, given the weather, he was wearing a white woolen turtleneck under his black parka. He had on black woolen gloves, black sweat pants and, rather surprisingly, knee-high black leather boots of the kind one sees on dressage riders at a horse show. I know this because my wife is an avid horsewoman.
"Sure," I said. "Coffee sounds great."
We sat opposite each other on two long couches in their living room. Jeffrey was right, the coffee was great. He even had some wonderful peanut butter cookies to nibble on.
We chatted about grocery stores, gas stations, restaurants and the like for a few minutes and then he walked me around the house. They had a large-screen TV, a treadmill and an exercise bike and a home office for two. What was most interesting in the office was a torso mannequin with a beautiful white mohair turtleneck on it. I had never seen anything like it. It was fuzzy and beautiful. There was a camera on a tripod pointing at the sweater.
"Nice sweater," I said. "Why the camera?"
"Well," Jeffrey said, a strange smile gracing his lips. "I do some buying and selling of sweaters on the Internet. This one is a beauty, hand knit in Scotland. I took a picture of it earlier this morning and have posted it online."
"It is really is a beautiful sweater," I said, wondering to myself what the chances were that my new neighbor would be a fancier of mohair sweaters. I had been in love with them ever since I was in high school and they were a seemingly required part of all the girls' wardrobes.
"But it doesn't look like a women's sweater," I said.
"It's not," Jeffrey replied. "It's for a man, perhaps better said, it is for a special type of man."
The smile reappeared and he said, in a gentle soft voice, "Perhaps you would like to try it on?"
I was surprised but curious and managed a meek "Sure, that would be great."
Jeffrey's smile widened and he said, "Excellent, now take off that hoodie and that black T-shirt. A sweater like this should be experienced against bare skin."
I did as he said. By the time I had my T-shirt off, he had removed the sweater from the mannequin and handed it to me.
"Pull it over your head gently and carefully. Enjoy the moment."
Again, I did as he said.
When I had done so, he stepped very close to me. So close that I could smell his aftershave. His hands fussed with the turtleneck collar and then the cuffs. They smoothed the wool covering my shoulders with a gentle touch that was more of a caress.
"Wow," he said, "Does that look good on you. The fit is perfect. As much as I have wanted to, I haven't put it on. I know it will be too big for me.
"Now, whenever I have the chance to have someone put one of these special sweaters on, I insist that they savor the moment."
He took me by the elbow and led me back to one of the couches.
"Sit right here," he told me, his voice now carrying an insistency that had not been there before.
He then sat next to me and arranged my hands so that one was on tope of the other in my lap.
"Excellent, my new friend. Now, stay right there. We need some accessories. I'll be right back."
I sat there marveling at the sensual feel of the hand-knitted mohair. I thought about the work that had been put into making this sweater. I also thought about how nice Jeffrey was in letting me wear this delightful sweater. I also felt my cock begin to harden.
"Oh my," I thought to myself. It was obvious that Jeffrey and Stephen were gay. What was he going to think when he returned. Or, then it came to me—was he seducing me? Something like this had never happened to me.
When Jeffrey returned he had a pair of white woolen gloves and a long white mohair scarf in his hands.
"These will be just perfect," he said as he sat down next to me on the couch.
"Allow me the pleasure," he whispered in my ear. No doubt about it now, I thought. I am being seduced.
He lifted one hand and fit the glove over my fingers. He put that hand back in my lap and then repeated the process with my other hand. His hand lingered a moment on my thigh and then gently began to caress the inner thigh.
"I do believe this scarf should be used as a blindfold so you can fully submit to what is happening to you, don't you?" he said as he adjusted his position so that our bodies were now touching—shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, leg to leg.
I nodded, unable to say a word, and he carefully wrapped the scarf around my head, covering my eyes. I was now fully his. If he wanted, he could tie me hand and foot and I would do nothing more than nod my head and perhaps make a small moan of delight.
My cock was now rock hard.
It was as if Jeffrey could read my mind. He had me stand up after he had gently knotted the scarf blindfold behind my head. He pulled my arms behind me and tied them together with something soft.
"It's the belt to my bathrobe," he whispered in my ear, as he embraced me from behind, his hands caressing my shoulders, then my chest, my stomach and, finally, my crotch.
My own gloved hands could feel his cock and, like mine, it was rock hard.
"What are you going to do?" I said in a quivering voice.
"For starters, gag you if you aren't quiet," he said, putting his hand over my lips. "Just relax, enjoy what is happening to you. You are wearing a beautiful sweater and are helpless to the advances of a talented and handsome man.
