After a restless night and a day spent thinking about the possible consequences of his reckless invitation, Oscar Williams had worked himself up into a state. There were times when he thought his boss might only have been offering friendly support during the evening they’d spent at the pub and he’d completely misinterpreted the signals. And there were other times when he convinced himself that his first instincts were correct and Simon Carlyle’s interest in him went far beyond that of a manager for a competent subordinate. He was excited to think that Simon might return his regard but he was fearful of what their mutual attraction might lead to once they were alone together in the house. He wasn’t sure how much of a come on he’d issued when he had, so boldly, returned Mr Carlyle’s gaze and he didn’t know whether he’d be able to express his reservations or admit the extent of his inexperience if they found themselves on the verge of intimacy. By the time the doorbell rang that evening he was a bundle of nerves.
By contrast, Simon Carlyle entered the house with a friendly word of greeting and sat down beside Oscar on the sofa to go through the paperwork he’d brought with him. If he noticed that Oscar’s hands were shaking when he took the files, he made no comment but just concentrated on outlining the requirements of the project until Oscar became so absorbed in the task that his head bent over the papers and Simon was able to observe him more intently. At close quarters Oscar’s features appeared even more finely chiselled than from afar and his flawless skin showed only the faintest trace of darkening stubble. Above all, Simon was struck by the youthful innocence of Oscar’s unguarded expression as he pored over the pages of figures and he felt a powerful upsurge of protectiveness and affection for the young man.
“Don’t get too immersed in the project now,” Simon advised. “There’ll be time enough for that tomorrow when you’re on your own. Let’s spend the evening getting to know one another a bit better.” Oscar looked up anxiously but Mr Carlyle’s friendly smile calmed his fears. “I think you know I’m interested in you,” Simon continued, “and I don’t mean as a work colleague. I’m hoping that the feeling is mutual.”
“Maybe, I mean, I’m not sure. I’ve never… never been with a man. I wouldn’t know…” Oscar trailed off in blushing confusion.
“Are you saying you’re not gay?” Simon asked with calm directness.
“No. I suppose I should just come out and admit it. But I’ve spent so much of my life trying to avoid acknowledging the truth, even to myself, that it’s hard to… I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
“How could you possibly disappoint me?” asked Simon in genuine surprise. “I think I’ve been hoping for this moment from the day we first met.”
“I was married when we first met,” Oscar pointed out.
“That didn’t prevent me gazing upon the unobtainable!”
“Did you… did you know then that I was gay?” asked Oscar in some embarrassment.
“I wondered,” answered Simon diplomatically.
“And you’ve really always fancied me?”
“Always.”
When Oscar still looked uncertain, Simon leant forward and took the printed pages from his unresisting hand before imparting a gentle kiss to his lips. There was no mistaking Oscar’s gasp of delighted surprise nor the way his body instinctively leant closer and his lips parted in response to the welcome pressure. Simon knew better than to take advantage of Oscar’s compliance but moved back, encouraging the young man to relax on the sofa beside him.
“Wow,” Oscar breathed. “I didn’t know… I didn’t expect… that was…” Words failed him.
“We’re allowed to do it again you know,” Simon assured him.
Oscar smiled. “Good. I think I’ve been hoping you’d do that ever since I first started working for you.” His face clouded over. “Even when I was married.”
Simon sensed that this was the moment to broach some of the questions he’d been wanting to ask and to get into the open some of the issues they’d been skirting around. “Tell me about Marie,” he said conversationally. “How did you meet?”
“Oh, we’d known one another forever. We grew up together. She was my best friend at school.”
“So did you marry when you were both very young?”
“No, not really. We sort of drifted into it after I graduated.”
“Drifted into it?”
“Well, it was easier to say I had a girlfriend at home when I didn’t go out with girls at uni. Marie came to visit me a couple of times and people just made assumptions. I think Marie rather hoped… and my mother wanted grandchildren… When I started work I was living on my own and I thought… stupidly, I thought I could make it work, that friendship would be enough.”
“And it wasn’t?”
“You sound just like Mrs Norris, my therapist,” said Oscar wryly. “She’s been prompting me with open ended questions just like yours.”
“I’m sorry, Oscar; you don’t have to answer me.”
“That’s just what she says too. The trouble is that her questions get me thinking, get me working out the answers for myself. I’ve had to face up to the fact that my marriage was a dreadful mistake right from the start. At the time I thought I could make the relationship work and I thought I’d like to be a father, but when Marie didn’t fall pregnant at once I realised that I’d sacrificed any chance of personal happiness for a dream that would never materialise.”
“Did Marie know how you felt?”
“I don’t think so. I was never unfaithful to her. I just couldn’t do that. But I realised I wanted the freedom to meet other people… and explore my attraction to men. I was a bit scared about what that might lead to but, at the same time, I wanted to be braver, to take a risk in the hope of finding real fulfilment in life.”
“So what did you do?”
“Nothing, that was the trouble. I’d more or less made up my mind to ask her for a separation but then I bottled it. Before I had another opportunity to sit her down and tell her the truth, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and we were in and out of hospital for surgery, then chemotherapy and radiotherapy. I kept thinking that I'd stay with her through all that and then it would be time to move on but she just got steadily weaker. I couldn't..."
Oscar was becoming visibly distressed and Simon interrupted with reassuring words. “Everyone knows you did a wonderful job looking after her. You’ve got nothing to reproach yourself for.”
“I was living a lie, Simon. It was all a sham. I was caring for Marie and all the time I was thinking of what I could be doing if I had my freedom. That’s why I felt so guilty after she died. I understand that now and it explains why I went so off the rails at work. I was trying to make up for the one thing I couldn’t give her.”
Oscar paused and Simon prompted him. “What was that, Oscar?”
“I was going to say that I couldn’t give her my love but that’s not true. I did love Marie. I hated to see her suffer. Right up to the end I’d hurry home from work to tell her what I’d been doing and she was always interested, always amused by the funny incidents. We had the same sense of humour. We always got along so well together.”
“And you were heartbroken when she died,” Simon pointed out with compassion.
“I had very mixed emotions,” confessed Oscar. “I felt I’d lost the best friend I’d ever had and yet there was a sense of liberation at the same time. Mrs Norris has helped me make sense of it all. She asked me what I think Marie would want me to do now.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. She told me to go home and think about it.”
“Have you reached any conclusions?”
“I think Marie would want me to be happy,” said Oscar thoughtfully. “She always told me to follow my star.”
“Do you think your star is leading you in my direction?”
Oscar looked up through wet lashes, yet the sparkle in his eyes was not caused by his tears. “I think I’m ready now to move on,” he conceded, with a tremulous smile.
This time Simon didn’t feel the need to act cautiously. He reached out to Oscar and pulled him into his arms. The young man buried his head in Simon’s chest and breathed out in a long, quivering sigh which dispelled some, if not all, of his lingering regrets. When he lifted his head, he hesitantly placed his hands on either side of Simon’s face and leaned in for the kiss which Simon had been waiting to bestow.
“Do you think you’re ready now to explore your attraction to men?” Simon asked lightly when they finally moved apart.
Oscar was still getting his breath back but he laughed, although the laugh was a little strained. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I don’t know…” he ducked his head in embarrassment, “I don’t really know how, Simon. Oh, I’ve watched the porn but I’m not sure that I’ll be able…”
Simon cut in at once, “Whatever we do, it’ll bear no relation to anything you’ve watched on the internet, Oscar, I can promise you that.” He put a hand under Oscar’s chin and raised his head to look him in the eye. “What you’re telling me is that you’ve never been with a man before and you’re feeling unsure. Have you any idea how much I’m looking forward to exploring all the ways I can give you pleasure? And I love the way you blush. May I see how far that blush extends?” Taking Oscar’s lack of protest for consent, he began to undo the buttons of his shirt.
“We could go upstairs,” Oscar ventured. “I tidied the bedroom and changed the sheets.”
“So you were expecting to end up in bed with me?”
“Not exactly… I just thought…”
“I’m teasing. I can see that you made a real effort to prepare for this evening and I’m flattered. Now you’ve done your bit, will you let me do mine? Let me take charge; it’s what I like doing anyway! You’ve got nothing to worry about. Nobody’s judging your performance and I promise we’ll do nothing that makes you feel uncomfortable. You only have to say no and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but…”
“No buts. Do you trust me?”
Oscar took a moment to consider the question. He’d already learnt that Mr Carlyle was completely trustworthy in a professional and personal capacity but entrusting his body to him in a sexual encounter was a separate issue. Simon was content to wait until Oscar had worked out the answer, and when he’d done so Simon had no need to hear the whispered affirmative. The loving, trusting look Oscar gave him spoke louder than any words.
Simon let Oscar lead the way up the narrow, carpeted staircase but when they reached the master bedroom, true to his word, he took charge of matters. He pulled the curtains and then turned on the bedside lamp to bathe the room in muted light. Then, once again, he pulled Oscar into his arms and kissed him until he felt the young man start to relax in his embrace. It was the work of moments to slip Oscar’s unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and then to shift his hand to the trouser fastening. He only undid the button to facilitate the complete removal of Oscar’s shirt but he left the zip untouched so he could run an exploring hand over the front of the garment to locate Oscar’s hardening penis. A gasp and a convulsive move against his fingers assured him that he’d reached his goal. Only then did he lower the zip and encourage Oscar to step out of his trousers.
The sight of Oscar’s muscular thighs disappearing into the close fitting fabric of his Calvin Klein trunks was pleasing, eclipsed only by the revealing curve of his buttocks and growing bulge at his crotch. Simon unashamedly admired the view as he hastily stripped down to his own underwear, deliberately going no further in order to afford Oscar the comfort of modest covering. Then he turned back the duvet and, taking Oscar’s hand, pulled him down to lie beside him on the bed.
Oscar lay rigidly on his back and Simon could sense the reawakening tension as he leant across to brush Oscar’s lips with his own. He ran the back of his hand in a gentle caress along Oscar’s jaw and down his neck as he whispered words of reassurance. “I just want to kiss you… here.” And his lips found the hollow at Oscar’s throat where a pulse jumped in response to warm lips, a soft tongue and, finally, the gentlest touch of teeth. Then he drew back to gaze into Oscar’s eyes. Reassured by what he saw there, he placed his hands on Oscar’s cheeks and gently turned the young man’s head towards his own. “You’re so perfect,” he breathed in wonderment, “let me kiss your eyelids.” Oscar obediently closed his eyes and Simon felt the tiny breeze on his face as Oscar let go the breath he’d been holding. When Simon shifted his attention to Oscar’s earlobes he sighed with contentment but didn’t open his eyelids.
Emboldened, Simon allowed his hands to travel to Oscar’s nipples and then down the flat expanse of his belly to the thick, printed waistband of his underpants. But he went no further until Oscar twisted his hips in unspoken invitation and then he shifted his whole body down the bed and began to manipulate the fabric around Oscar’s penis, concentrating on the sensitive area beneath its head. Oscar was so far gone in pleasure that it took him a moment to register the change in sensation as Simon began using his lips to nuzzle and lick, turning the fabric translucent with saliva and precum.
But when Simon slipped his fingers under the Calvin Klein waistband, as a preliminary to removing the undergarment, Oscar placed a restraining hand on his forearm and Simon drew back at once, breathing, “No?” in a questioning tone.
“No,” confirmed Oscar and, after a pause, he struggled to continue. “Can I… may I...”
“What? Tell me what you want.”
“I want to… I want to see you. Can I…”
Simon was enchanted to see that Oscar’s blush extended all the way down his neck and chest but he knew better than to draw attention to the fact. “So my young lover wants to see me naked,” he observed with a laugh. “Do you want to undress me yourself or do you want me to strip?”
Oscar didn’t reply but reached tentative hands towards the older man’s waist. Simon obligingly lifted his hips and felt the warm but light touch of fingertips sliding down his flanks to halt briefly as the cotton boxers snagged on his thickening penis. Oscar took care to lift the elastic over Simon’s genitals and then quickly pulled the boxers down Simon’s long legs until he was able to kick them off himself. The view thus afforded drew Oscar’s admiring gaze. Having always studiously avoided staring at other men in the shower or changing room, it was exciting to know that his attention was welcomed.
Simon’s penis lay horizontally across his groin on a bed of neatly trimmed, but rather coarse, dark hair. His member was of average length but its girth made it appear weighty. The head was entirely covered by foreskin and the asymmetric balls hung close to his body. Oscar thought the entire package was beautiful and marvelled that appendages which he himself possessed could look so different on another human body. He leant closer and made to lower his head towards Simon’s groin but found his way barred by an upraised arm. “Just your hand,” Simon quietly instructed and when Oscar still looked uncertain he added, “You know exactly what to do. You’ve spent a lifetime practising and what works for you will work just as well for me.”
Simon’s bantering tone was both a revelation and an encouragement to Oscar. It demonstrated that his partner was enjoying himself, whilst not taking their gentle lovemaking too seriously. Tentatively, he extended his fingers round the thick shaft and felt Simon’s penis twitch at his touch. With growing confidence he began to stroke and occasionally shake the penis to stimulate blood flow and was rewarded with the sight of a rapidly growing erection. Locking his fingers round the shaft he pulled downwards more firmly, retracting Simon’s foreskin and revealing the purple glans. Then, thinking of his own most sensitive spot, he then began to rub the pads of both thumbs in small circles around the underside of Simon’s penis.
The effect on Simon was electric. He might have been sexually experienced but it had been some time since he’d felt anything other than his own hands on his manhood. The fact that it was Oscar, the young man he’d long desired, who was touching him so intimately was enough to bring him to the brink without the benefit of extended stimulation. He shifted back slightly, prompting Oscar to disengage, and reached once more for the waistband of Oscar’s underpants.
This time he encountered no opposition. Oscar allowed himself to be efficiently rendered naked as all traces of modesty and inhibition were forgotten. Simon at once bent to the young man’s groin, encircling his testicles and the base of his shaft with one hand and then, in one swift movement, took the head of his penis into his mouth. Oscar’s gasp was testament both to his surprise and to his excitement at the unfamiliar but intensely pleasurable sensation. Simon ran the tip of his tongue along the underside of Oscar’s penis as his lips moved down the shaft. At the same time he brought his hand upwards to meet his lips and then drew back. The rhythmic action soon had Oscar in ecstasy; he flung his head backwards onto the pillow, his breathing became rapid and shallow and his thighs fell open in wanton invitation.
Simon’s hand slipped from Oscar’s penis and his fingers slid along the young man’s perineum as his mouth and lips continued to work on the turgid shaft. When his middle finger encountered the puckered flesh of Oscar’s anus he pressed downwards slightly and began to rotate his fingertip around the contracting hole. At once he felt Oscar’s body tense and the engorged penis lose some of its rigidity. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispered as he hastily withdrew his finger. “Don’t panic. I’m not going to do anything you don’t like.”
“Aren’t you going to… Don’t you want to… to take me?”
“I want to bring you off. Now lie back and let me do just that.”
“But…”
“Hey, I’m in charge here and I promise you there’ll be no penetrative sex, not tonight. And that won’t prevent either of us from being fully satisfied, I assure you. Relax; we’ll talk about this later. For now, you just have to lie back and enjoy yourself.”
Not entirely convinced, Oscar did as he was told, lowering his head gingerly onto the pillow and struggling to relax as Simon resumed his attentions. But Simon was an experienced and skilled lover and he soon had Oscar once again writhing and gasping with the effort to contain his excitement. “You’re to come when I tell you,” he ordered in a voice husky with passion, rightly judging the extent of Oscar’s arousal and knowing that the requirement to wait would push the young man’s control to the limit.
Simon’s hand was moving frantically up and down his own penis as he manipulated Oscar to the point of no return. “Now,” he growled, as he felt his own balls tighten, “you can come now.”
Oscar’s back arched immediately and he uttered a long groan of satisfaction as he spasmed, spurting ropes of ejaculate across his belly and chest. The sight of the young man’s uninhibited climax, with his flushed cheeks and white flecked body, was enough to push Simon over the edge and his semen mingled with Oscar’s as he fountained his release across his lover’s torso.
~*~*~*~*~*~
