Part 1.
He was the only person sitting in a rocking chair outside on the library's shaded lanai, on that humid summer afternoon. His short gray receding hair, stocky build, thick muscular arms and legs, and his round Buddha belly were not my image of a professional yoga instructor. Yet this was with whom I'd shared intimate emails the past 2 weeks confessing my desires to please another man. Something in his responses, his easy-going contentedness and understanding, drew me to him; to the point that I'd surprised myself asking if we might meet. And now, here we were; rocking side by side, chatting.
I had spent at least an hour carefully preparing myself- shaving, showering, putting on deodorant, a hint of cologne, and matching a pair of shorts with a nice tasteful polo shirt - feeling excited, like a girl preening to impress her man on a first date. When I saw him it was evident he had arrived as he was in the moment that lazy Saturday afternoon- wearing a light colored T-shirt, cut off's, and flip flops. His casualness and lack of pretense drew me to him like a moth to light. Even the sounds of his sticky feet separating from the soles of his flip-flops each time he rocked in his chair held a strange allure. I caught myself entertaining a foot fetish I'd not had for years, stirred only by a select few ex-girlfriends, as I imagined feeling the soles of his feet resting softly on my face, me gratefully inhaling his scent and savoring the unique taste of his manly pheromones as his sweet salty sweat graced my lips and tongue.
During our conversation he said that in addition to his group yoga classes, he provided private yoga instructions at his apartment for serious students. I tentatively inquired if I might qualify, and gratefully scheduled a private session.
He warned me in advance of my arrival that his 2-bedroom apartment was small. His roommate had moved out a few weeks earlier and he was still cleaning out stuff she'd left behind. Their relationship had been strained, he told me, and he was relieved that she had moved out. After two years together as platonic roommates she had suddenly changed and began constantly trying to seduce him. He shared how it started one night when she beckoned him to her room where he found her lying on her bed wearing a sheer négligée. He regretted succumbing to her overtures that night as he said it led to her visiting his room at all hours of the night as she pleased. He'd often awaken to her fingers caressing his thighs and her lips planting kisses on his body, then taking his manhood into her mouth until he orgasmed. I listened intently thinking he had a good deal and imagining what it would be like to be her.
Despite his advanced notice, I was taken aback by how small the yoga area in his apartment was - barely enough room for our two mats, with boxes and items creating walls about the cleared yoga space. There was actually had a subtle aura of intimacy and coziness being in the close space with him.
He did not know it but being alone with another man in any circumstance was very rare for me, having been sexually molested by two teenagers when I was five years old. But being alone with him felt wonderfully safe. And as our session flew by I noticed he had not touched me. Not even once.; not even for legitimate reasons like tweaking an arm or a leg position here and there.
After our session I paid him, plus a $20 tip. I told him I appreciated his professionalism and how comfortable I was being alone with him. He looked at me quizzically so I shared my story and apprehension about being alone with another man. I thanked him for unknowingly helping me break through a trust barrier. I did not have the courage to tell him that at one point In our session when his feet had been just 2 inches from my face I had been deeply tempted to kiss them. That would come later.
As I prepared to leave, he asked me if I'd like a tour of his apartment and I said yes. When he showed me his ex-roomate's bedroom i confessed my curiosity, "So this is where your lucky roommate successfully seduced you!" He didn't make eye contact but smiled and said, " I suppose so."
I asked about all the sound recording equipment he had set up in his living room- speakers, mics, CD burners, etc. He said he was working on an album. Not wanting to leave, I told him I'd love to hear a sample one day. He Asked if now was a good time and then went and stood over some tables, turning on computers, and flicking various electronic switches.
Looking around I chose to sit at his feet while he stood beginning the first song. My eyes were level with his manhood, my lips just inches from planting reverent kisses. "Mmm nice..." I stage whispered as his voice crooned the lyrics "I only have eyes for you." I then gently let my fingers caress the top of one of his feet. He lurched his foot away. "Oh sorry." He said, "I hope I didn't step on you." "Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all." I self-consciously replied. I was too shy to say anything further and just melted into his velvety voice through several of his songs with my eyes closed, imagining he was singing solely to me. I do not tell him then but would later confess my fantasy in the safety of an email.
As he saw me to the door he mentioned needing to clear out a bunch of boxes and take them to storage. I Immediately volunteered to help. Fortunately he took me up on my offer. Now I had another date with him! As I was departing I told a silly joke and simultaneously caressed his arm with the tips of my fingers. I said bye but did not make eye contact. I walked to my car hoping he was checking out my ass, having worn the pair of Kelly green shorts I thought best accentuated my curves for his potential viewing pleasure.
During the week before I was to help him move boxes to storage, I felt safer sharing with him. my fantasies involving a ceremony that found me kneeling before him and getting to kiss his feet and orally please him, swallowing his orgasm as part of a ritual. For over a week I'd no response. Silence. I imagined I'd gone too far, turned him off with my silly fantasies. I was filled with embarrassment and regret for being so self-indulgent. And then 10 days later I received a response...
End of part 1