I got out of my little red Civic and approached the house, straightening my jacket and brushing mostly imaginary dust and dirt off my jeans. I had dressed casual sexy, not wanting to give the impression that I thought this a huge occasion - even though I actually did. I had waited months for this weekend, and it was almost upon me. To say I was excited would be a serious understatement.
I rang the bell. After a few moments the door opened. James Lucas stood there, in the flesh. In the absolutely gorgeous, dick-hardening, heartbeat-quickening, flesh.
My eyes raked over him, taking in his handsome face with the slightly graying goatee, intelligent brown eyes, and those soft, curved lips that formed themselves into a welcoming smile. His closely shaven head leant a sexy, older-man quality to him.
"Hello, Sir." I murmured, my pulse increasing rapidly as I took in his muscular form clothed in black jeans and a burgundy long sleeved t-shirt. I tried not to think about the powerful arms and chest outlined by dark red cotton.
"Come in, come in..." he said, moving back to give me some space to enter. His face, though that of a younger man, held enough slight wrinkles and creases to make it interesting and to give an indeterminate quality to his exact age.
I did so, careful not to touch him before he'd given me permission. I knew the protocol now and wanted to show him that I remembered.
I remembered everything.
"Here, I'll take your coat." He said, holding out his broad, beautifully masculine, hand. I noticed how long and elegant his fingers were as I peeled off my brown leather jacket and handed it to him, our eyes meeting for a moment. The message in his went straight to my groin. I felt my dick start to react. Jesus, what he did to me.
"Come into the livingroom, please." He said, gesturing towards the large room to the left of the hall.
I preceded him into the room, hoping that he checked me out in my carefully chosen jeans and black 'Sex Pistols' t-shirt. I'd found the latter at Value Village a few weeks ago and knew it would be the perfect club shirt, not to mention the perfect 'meeting your Dom before playtime' shirt. Nothing beat retro punk wear, in my opinion.
I stood nervously beside the sofa, awaiting further instruction.
"Have a seat, Tate. And you can relax. We're meeting as equals here to discuss the weekend. You don't have to take on the sub role quite yet. When you arrive here next Friday, the situation will be different. But for now, we're just friends discussing an upcoming event."
I nodded. "Okay." I sat down on the couch and tried to relax.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked as he poured himself some Jack Daniels. "You know I don't permit any alcohol for my subs, but we're not quite there yet. If you'd like something, you're welcome to it."
I shook my head. "I'd better not. I have to drive home." I wasn't exactly sure how long our meeting would last.
He regarded me with a little smile. "I thought perhaps, after we discuss the technicalities, I could reintroduce you to my playroom for a short session." His intelligent eyes conveyed lust and desire and mischief. "If you like."
Struck speechless for a moment, I wondered how to tell him that I wasn't really prepared.
As if reading my mind, he asked, "Did you shower before coming here?"
I nodded. "Yeah, but I didn't...prepare...in any other way." I knew that James liked his subs absolutely clean, inside and out, before they went into the playroom.
He laughed. "Don't worry about that. We won't get that far today." He sat down across from me in the armchair and sipped his drink. "I usually don't drink before a session. But this will be a casual one, and I'm only having a bit. Are you interested? Or would you rather just wait until next weekend? It's entirely your choice, Tate. There's no right answer."
He leaned forward. "Just tell me what you want."
I cleared my throat. "I want to go to the playroom...tonight...when we're done here."
He nodded. "Great. Well, let's get to it then, shall we? How old are you? I've forgotten."
"I just turned twenty-nine." I said. "Last week."
He smiled. "Happy Birthday."
He brought out the contract he'd prepared. We went through it page by page, discussing my hard and soft limits, goals, fears, strengths and weaknesses. We spoke about the safewords and hand signals I would use and that there would be no punishment for safewording. It simply meant the session would end immediately. There was no reason it couldn't be resumed soon after, if mutually agreed upon.
It didn't take that long. By the time we finished, my arousal level had gone from Code Orange to Code Red. This matter-of-fact discussion of the intimate details of various Dom/Sub scenarios, implements of pleasure and torture, and ways of using them, proved very effective. Thank goodness he had suggested a short session, because if he hadn't, I'd have had to drive home with an aching, leaking cock in my pants. I'd need to be careful though, and follow his instructions. Because I knew it would amuse him to send me home in this state, or a worse one, if I didn't please him. Even though he'd said this would be a casual session, we'd still be playing as Dom and Sub, and I knew exactly what that meant.
"Okay. Well, I think that's everything." He had me sign in a few places and then put the papers into a large manila envelope. "I'm just going to put these away. Why don't you meet me upstairs? Keep your clothes on but take your shoes and socks off. You don't have to kneel on the floor but I'd like you standing next to the spanking bench."
I gulped. My dick throbbed in anticipation. "Sure."
He left the room. I took off my shoes and socks and put them near my jacket in the hall. Then I padded quietly up the circular stairs to the second floor and along the hall until I reached the familiar double doors. I tried the handles. They were unlocked. I pushed the doors open and entered James' playroom.
Continued at my kink blog.