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HomeGay Male Stories Enticed pt. 2 A Clean House

Enticed pt. 2 A Clean House

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Housecleaning takes a turn for the better

This is the second part of the story of my time in the early 90s with a gay man about 15 years older than me who saw me as a near-reincarnation of his first boyfriend. Check my post history for earlier installments of the story of an older man’s toy.

Over the first three months I’d been working for the newspaper, my older friend Blaise and I had been spending more and more time together.

Of course, we kept it more or less professional at work, as much as any other friends did. What our colleagues didn’t know was that we were spending time together outside of work, as well. For the last couple of weeks, Blaise watched me strip one or two times each week and then I let him jack me off.

It wasn’t a bad arrangement. I wasn’t so lonely, and I was getting some much needed sexual contact -- though not what I was used to since I was straight. And, Blaise always seemed to love our time together. But, I found that I wanted to spend more time with my new friend.

Knowing he liked watching me around the office and his house, one Monday at work I mentioned I wouldn’t mind helping him out around his house. He often complained about things he either couldn’t do, or hated doing. Housecleaning was one of them. I also let it slip that I still felt like I owed him something after the expensive lens he bought me for Christmas and the cash he gave me later to coax me into stripping for him the first time. He was quick to completely dismiss the suggestion. What I wasn’t telling him was that I planned on turning it into a show for his viewing pleasure.

“Those were gifts. You don’t have to work them off,” he said, finally.

“Whether you see it as me working for what you’ve given me or not, you seem to need some help around the house,” I countered. “And, we could spend more time together. I wouldn’t be alone so much.

“I don’t know about you. But, I like spending time with my friends.”

“I don’t want it to be like ‘work.’ Y’know? Something you feel like you have to do.”

“I definitely don’t feel that way,” I assured him.

“I mean, I love just being around you, too,” he said, darting his eyes around the office. “Especially, when we get to be alone at home. We only get a few minutes here and there at work. Adding a little more time together once in a while does sound nice.”

“What are you doing Saturday?” I asked. “I’ll help you out with whatever.”

“Well, I usually just clean up on Saturdays. But--”

“I’ll come over sometime Saturday and help you,” I cut him off.

“And, when the cleaning’s done, maybe we can do something else,” I winked.

I confirmed our Saturday “date” again Friday afternoon before I left the office. He still didn’t seem to be comfortable with the situation. But, he couldn’t deny he wanted me to come over.

Knowing from past conversations that he slept until about 9 or so on weekends, I arrived promptly at 8:45. After a couple of minutes, he finally opened the door wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, squinting in the sunlight.

“Hey.” In spite of his obvious grogginess, he seemed genuinely happy -- and surprised -- to see me.

“I didn’t really think you’d be this early,” he said letting me in. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Yeah. It’s time for you to take a shower while I fix you something for breakfast.” I set my hand on his arm as I walked by.

“Breakfast?”

“What do you want? Or, should I ask, what do you have?” I asked, heading toward the kitchen.

“Uh. There’s probably some waffles in the freezer. You know how to make coffee?”

“I got this,” I said as he disappeared.

About ten minutes later he walked into the kitchen in a pair of jeans and a polo. I was pouring his coffee wearing a pair of gym shorts and a white tank.

“Now, that’s the best part of waking up,” he said.

He pulled out a chair and sat at the table as I set his mug in front of him. The waffles already were on the table.

As he started eating I leaned back against the counter facing him.

“So, what do you want me to do today?” I asked.

“You really don’t have to--”

“I’m going to, anyway. What do you need me to do? Vacuum? Dust? I’ll get these dishes, too.”

“Well, yeah. If you insist. I guess you can vacuum the living room,” he finally gave in. “I can start on something else while you’re--”

“You’re welcome to watch,” I said.

When he finished eating I stacked the handful of dishes in the sink and asked him where he kept his vacuum. He got it out of a closet for me and excused himself to the bathroom. After I took the vacuum to the living room, I took off my tank top. I dusted over his tables before firing up the vacuum. By the time he returned from the bathroom, I was pushing his upright around the floor in nothing but my shorts. They were pretty short and tight, but I had another surprise under them.

I couldn’t hear if he said anything when he walked in. I motioned for him to sit on the couch. He watched my every move. The few times I glanced over at him I could see a hungry look in his eyes as he stared at my body.

I could hear him exhale loudly when I turned off the vacuum and used my tank to wipe the sweat off my hairy chest.

I walked into his small dining room to dust. Blaise followed me but said, “I can’t just follow you around and watch you do all this work by yourself. As much as I want to.”

“I’m going to go start a load of laundry,” he said as he left the room.

By the time I saw him again, I had finished the dining room. He found me in the kitchen washing the breakfast dishes. But, I had removed the gym shorts and was wearing a pair of what in the 90s was sometimes called Australian rowing shorts or swim trunks. They were basically the same as today’s short boxer briefs. They were like Speedos with very short legs and so tight, not only could you see every wrinkle in my dick and balls, you could practically count the hairs. I had just received them from a mail-order catalog knowing they would drive Blaise crazy. I got a white pair in spite of my own light skin because I knew every lump and bulge would be more clearly visible.

“Wow! Every time I leave the room you lose clothes,” he said. “And, I really like those.”

“They just came in the mail the other day,” I said. “Just for you. I thought I should - uh - re-invest the money you gave me for something that would make you happy.”

“Well, I’d say that’s a good investme--” He stopped cold as I put his coffee mug in the drying rack and turned around to face him.

“Oh, my god!” he exclaimed when he saw just how tight they were in the front. But, he got a little more of a thrill as I’d been rubbing my dick against the counter while washing the dishes and was aroused enough that the glans was visible out of the bottom of the left leg.

“It’s time for a break,” he said, reaching out to rub over my package through the spandex. My cock jumped at his touch.

I used my tank to wipe off more sweat as we sat on the couch with a couple of cold beers. I intentionally sat on the opposite end and put one leg on the couch to start rubbing his leg with my bare foot. He looked down almost surprised.

I reached down and straightened my now very hard dick. I kept it in the shorts, but they just barely contained it, forcing it to point straight at my left hip. As Blaise watched, I rubbed the cold, wet beer bottle along the length of my shaft. My sweat already was making the white fabric nearly transparent. The condensation from the bottle finished the job.

My eyes darted between my crotch and his face.

He stared and moaned a little. I looked up at him just as his eyes traced up my chest to my face. Our eyes met and I could see he was on fire.

“Do you want to take them off me?” I asked.

His eyes popped wide.

“Can I?” He sounded like a kid on Christmas morning. I giggled a little.

I stood in front of him on the couch. His fingers were a little cold as they snaked between the fabric and my hot, sweaty skin. As he released my cock from the shorts I held it up out of the way so he could finish pushing them down my legs. At just the right moment, I let it go so it dropped heavily onto the back of his head. Somehow that was a new thrill.

“Sorry about the sweat,” I said. “And clubbing you in the back of the head.”

“You can beat me with that club all day,” he said. “And, I don’t care about your sweat. But, I might need something besides my spit for lubricant. My mouth’s dry as it can be.”

He disappeared and I sat back down.

Blaise returned with a small bottle of lube and filled one palm after dropping to his knees on the floor. I leaned back while he warmed it up between his hands. He gently lifted my meat with the fingers of one hand and started a slow caress with the other.

The sensation made me catch my breath. I closed my eyes and spread my legs, putting one on the couch to give him plenty of access. And, he made the most of it.

One hand was riding up and down my shaft while the other cupped and kneaded my balls. I tried to watch but my head instinctively went back onto the couch and my eyes squeezed shut again. I could feel his hot breath blowing over my bare skin. His face was much closer to me than I had imagined.

For an instant, I thought his mouth was the only thing that might feel better than this. I banished that thought. I wasn’t ready for that. Letting another man “massage” me was one thing. Full-on oral sex was something else entirely.

I couldn’t think long. The sensations he raised in me clouded my thoughts again. It seemed I had succeeded in teasing myself almost as much as I had been teasing my friend. Between his masterful touch, hot breath and my own horniness, I didn’t last more than a few minutes. And, once again, he got me with that roll of his palm over my red, swollen head.

One hand had found the back of his head and I grabbed and pulled a handful of my friend’s hair as I started to convulse. The blast started before he was able to capture it like he had before and a couple spurts of cum ended up on my stomach. It was Blaise’s turn to catch his breath when the first long stream of white cum shot out. He was able to catch most of it by again cupping his hands over me. But, I was turned on even more by the sight of my cum running over his fingers and down my shaft below his hands. My entire body jumped when he slid his hands over my glans.

I grabbed my tank to wipe my sperm off my skin as he got up. Again, he refused to let me clean myself. He grabbed my tank out of my hand before he left the room.

I was sweating and still breathing heavily when he returned with the usual washcloth and towel.

“Actually, do you mind if I shower?” I asked. “I’m pretty sweaty.”

“Of course, you can take a shower,” he said. “But, you don’t have anything to wear after. Not that you need to.”

“Sure I do,” I said. I started to put my jeans back on. “I’ve got a bag in the Jeep.”

“You stay just like this,” Blaise said. “I’ll get it.”

I had brought a bag with a change of clothes. I’d had an idea I might need something by the end of the day. In fact, I had tentatively planned trying to find a way of taking a shower here. I was trying to plan some adventures -- or should I call them “benefits” -- for my friend. I didn’t want to become the cliche romance novel pool boy. But, I wanted to keep things interesting for him if I could.

He showed me to the main bathroom. Up to now, I’d only seen a smaller powder room between the kitchen and living room. This one was larger than I expected. It had a long vanity and the toilet on one wall, and the tub and a separate shower stall on the other. Blaise got a clean towel out for me as I started the water. He disappeared before I could say anything.

I made the shower very quick and within five or six minutes I had his white towel around my waist. But, after assessing myself in the bathroom mirror, I decided it was too large, covered too much. I took it off and folded it nearly in half so that it would hang just below my ass cheeks. I wanted to make sure Blaise was teased by the possibility of seeing my dick peek out from under at any time. I also knew that everything would be visible as soon as I sat down.

Not sure where he was by now, I walked through to the kitchen to get another beer out of the fridge. No sign of him yet. I went into the living room. It was empty. So, I headed through the dining room toward the bedrooms.

I found him just coming out of his second bedroom. He stopped short the second he saw me, or rather, the towel.

“Good God! That’s hot!”

“I had the shower a little too hot,” I explained. “I need to cool down a little before I put anything on.”

“Damn! Stay hot,” he said, his eyes scanning me up and down. “You don’t have to put any clothes on. I just wish I’d thought to come clean the bathroom while you were in there so I could watch you take that shower.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking another shower -- for you. That is, if you want to watch.”

“Mmh,” he grunted. “Finish that beer. The hot water’s probably got to build back up anyway.”

We sat down in the kitchen. The towel was wet and I thought the chairs in there would be cooler than the couch. I pulled a chair out and sat with one foot under me, making sure my thighs were spread as much as the towel would allow. With a little discreet adjustment, my dick and balls rested on my ankle and the towel was loosened just enough. I wanted to make sure I always gave Blaise a show, even knowing that I was about to give him more of a show than ever before.

He poured himself some iced tea and sat across from me blatantly staring at the towel and its contents. His hand rested on the arm I had on the table. We talked about various things, something he’d seen on TV the night before or something.

“The water should be good now,” he said at some point. “If you’re ready.”

“Let’s go,” I said, leaving my empty bottle on the kitchen table.

By the time we got to the bathroom my towel had come off and I was carrying it. I dropped it on the floor in front of the shower stall and reached in to start the water. Blaise sat on the toilet facing me.

I was a little nervous. This felt like a performance. I’d never let anyone watch me do anything like this before. I’d only showered with one girl before and that was short. I also concentrated so much on her naked body at the time that I wasn’t concerned about what she saw. This time it was all me and only me -- and with an audience there specifically to watch me.

I stepped in and left the shower door open. It wouldn’t be much of a show if he couldn’t see me. The floor would be pretty wet. But, Blaise said we’d deal with that later.

I started rubbing the warm water over my nude body. At first, I faced away from Blaise but slowly turned around as the jets of water rewet my body. I could tell I already was starting to become aroused. My dick was thickening and pushing away from my loose hanging balls. His eyes darted up and down my naked, wet body.

I grabbed the soap and started lathering up, rubbing the suds and bubbles over my chest and stomach first.

Heading down to my crotch I slid my soapy hand down the shaft of my hanging cock and cupped my balls. I encircled my dick and balls at the base between my thumb and forefinger and pulled them away from my groin a few times in a jacking motion. The tug on my scrotum and squeeze on the thickening shaft was having a nice effect. I wasn’t quite hard yet, but I was getting there. I spent a couple more minutes pulling on my meat, swirling my hand around it slick with soap.

Just as it was starting to stand parallel to the floor I turned my back to Blaise and bent down to lather up my legs. I rubbed my soapy hands from my ankles to my butt cheeks. Reaching around both sides I squeezed and shook my soapy ass cheeks for him. I slid one hand up and down between them a few times before turning back around to face my horny friend.

Maybe he thought I was too preoccupied to notice, but I caught a glimpse of him sitting on the toilet stroking his dick pulled out of his unzipped pants. I looked back down quickly so he wouldn’t know I saw him.

Facing him again I rubbed and played with my dick and balls some more, yanking them away from my core with forceful jolts that made water and suds fly out of the shower stall. I ran my encircled fingers down my shaft so tightly I squeegeed off the soap.

Rubbing back up my chest I looked up to see Blaise pulling off some toilet paper to clean himself up. There was one more thing I thought he’d like to see before I finished this.

I turned around to show him my ass one more time and reached through my legs to run my soapy hand up between my ass cheeks, bending down as I did to give him a clear view. For a minute or two, all I did was run my soapy fingers up and down on my asshole.

Since I knew he’d had his happy ending I decided it was a good time to rinse off. Blaise handed me a dry towel as I turned off the water.

He continued to watch as I toweled off.

When I was dry I wrapped the towel around my waist again, folded and short like the last time, and headed to the kitchen. Blaise remained in the bathroom for a minute. I threw away the empty beer bottle I’d left on the table and grabbed another from the fridge. Blaise walked in as I was popping the top off.

“You never did finish in there, did you?” he asked. He was standing closer than usual now.

“No. I thought you’d like to do that,” I said. His hand already was pushing the towel away from my skin before I could set the bottle down.

My dick had softened considerably since leaving the bathroom. So, Blaise ran his fingers down its length lightly, barely touching it. At the tip, he continued down to my smooth balls and rolled them around in his fingers like flesh marbles. He was looking down as we stood in the kitchen. My eyes were closing involuntarily as the pleasure grew. I found myself holding on to his upper arms. As my breathing grew stronger and hotter, I could feel each exhaled breath blowing back at me after bouncing off my friend’s chest.

He guided me over to one of the chairs at the table. I sat down and spread my legs for him. Blaise’s light rubbing continued for another minute as my cock grew stiffer and longer for him. As it approached its full size, he squeezed tightly around the base forcing my shaft to fill completely with blood. The pressure also forced the hole at the top to spread open slightly. He spit down into it and let his natural juice slide over the helmet and down the shaft to meet his fingers.

Watching him do this made my heart skip. It was the hottest thing I think I’d ever seen.

He spit on my glans a few more times before starting a slow stroke up the shaft. He made sure to let his saliva get between his skin and mine as he quickened the pace of strokes.

While his right hand slid up and down my now aching meat, he reached up and grabbed my sweating scrotum with his other hand. His hand was hot and I didn’t realize I had broken into a cold sweat all over until I felt his dry hand on my balls. He pulled slightly on my sac and increased the pressure slowly as he sped up the jacking motion of his right hand.

I reached out and rested one hand on the back of his neck. As I did so, I realized it was shaking slightly. My other hand had a white-knuckle grip on the seat of the chair.

As I was nearing the point of no return, Blaise started his wonderful rolling motion on my glans and pulled hard on my balls but held them out as far away from my body as my skin allowed. It was an amazing sensation that caused cum to start pumping through my shaft.

He never let go of my balls or released any of the pressure. But he positioned his right hand over my head again to catch as much of my thick sperm as he could. With my balls held as tightly as they were, I could feel them pulsating in time with the clinching of my asshole. I had a handful of hair on the back of his head.

When the convulsions subsided Blaise finally released his grip on my balls. I opened my eyes to see his right hand covered in -- and full of -- my cum. Some had made it to his shoulder and his left hand. Somehow it had missed my arm as I held and pulled his hair.

He got off his knees carefully, trying not to drip too much of me on the kitchen floor. As he rose, his face came close enough to mine that he lightly kissed my forehead. I straightened up on the chair and started to use my towel to clean myself up.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “I’ll take care of that in a minute.”

I didn’t move as he walked away and I heard the water in the bathroom sink run for a minute. When he returned he had changed shirts and was carrying another of his warm, wet washcloths.

It took me a while to recover from that. And, we sat on the couch watching TV for a while. We were close enough that our shoulders, arms, and even our legs touched. I had gone for my bag to get something to wear at one point. But Blaise forbade me from wearing anything for a while. He wanted to see and feel my nudity next to him for a while. I wasn’t even allowed my towel.

Of course, I had no problem with being nude for him at all. My nervousness was becoming excitement. Actually, it was kind of a thrill having him order me to remain naked. Every time I got up to walk across the room I could feel his eyes on me almost as a physical presence.

We spent most of the afternoon like that. It felt great to be so free and to share it with someone. It was a great way to spend a Saturday.

I awoke Sunday morning to the sound of my doorbell. I stumbled to the door in the bikini underwear that constituted my “pajamas.” The blast of cold January air ensured that I was completely awake when I saw Blaise at my door.

“What’s--”

“It’s my turn to help you clean,” he said pushing through the door beside me.

Instead of cooking for me, Blaise brought sausage biscuits. I tried to protest. But, he persuaded me to let him vacuum while I took a shower.

I was a little disappointed that he didn’t watch me shower again. But, I made a point of remaining naked when I got out. Not that it mattered, but I made my bed in the nude while Blaise washed the two or three dishes I had.

We were done in about thirty minutes and he jacked me off on my couch immediately afterward. I made sure to position myself so I could reach at least his head or shoulders while he was working on me. I felt the need to touch him.

Over the next few weeks, this became our routine. At first, we cleaned his house on Saturday mornings and then my apartment in the afternoon. Since my apartment took much less time, I suggested we do mine first so we could spend the remainder of the day in his much more comfortable house.

Blaise was onboard with that. It included the suggestion of spending more time together.

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