"Dear Diary" Chapter One Dedication: for Johnny by jacob442023@gmail.com (responses welcome)
I dimmed the lights and sat down in my recliner with my journal and blue pen.
I began writing.
Dear Diary . . . . I love women, and I love my wife. And yet . . . .
I paused, thumb and forefinger against the stubble on my chin, pen paused on the page . . . .
I can't stop wondering about what it would be like for a man . . .
I paused.
Yes? asked my Diary.
I sighed and licked my lips, butterflies dancing in my belly.
Well? wondered my Diary.
I continued.
. . . . to touch my naked body, to feel his fingers on my bare skin.
That wasn't so hard, was it? said my Diary.
I shifted on the couch.
No Diary, I thought in response. And yet . . . .
And yet? my Diary prompted.
And yet, I wrote, it makes me nervous.
How so? wondered my Diary.
It confuses me, I wrote, because I love women, I love smooth legs and full tits and soft lips and sweet pussies. I love to look at them, to touch them, to lick and tongue them, to slide my eager cock inside them, to explode together with them.
I paused again.
Yes? prompted my Diary.
Well, I wrote, I want to feel a man, calloused fingers, squeezing and touching me. I want to feel his muscular arms flex as he shows me who is in charge, pulling me against him. I want his rough hands to cup my pecs, his fingers flicking and toying with my nipples.
Yes, yessss, my Diary invited. Tell me more.
I licked my lips.
Write it down Baby, my Diary encouraged.
Well, my pen scratched the page, I'm naked, totally naked.
You are? my Diary questioned.
Mmmm, hmmm, I said with a smile, standing up shedding my clothes.
Nude, I sat back in the chair, repositioning my pen and paper.
Continue, said my Diary.
I'd sit on his lap and lean into him, arching my back, cooing and squirming, naked against his work clothes, Carhartts, his hands roaming across my nakedness, squeezing, cupping, fingering.
I'm the woman to his man, the object of desire to his masculine power, the hunted and him the hunter.
I have been the hunter with women, the sensual conqueror, the woman the object of my desire, and she knows it. She is strong, feminine, fit, but I'm stronger, the pursuer, the taker. She's the one who moaned on my lap, the feminine, for my taking.
Here, he is the man. I'm in my early 50s, he's in his 50s or younger, perhaps even his 30s or 40s. I'm still strong, but my belly is thicker and my hair thinner. He's still got his hair, and when his abs flex, they stay tight, whereas when I move, my belly jiggles. His arms are muscular, defined, tattooed. I only have one tattoo from long ago days in the military. He's tan, olive skinned, maybe Italian. My skin is lighter, whiter.
Yes, my Diary replied approvingly.
I moan at his touch.
His fingers explore my nakedness, grazing along my inner thighs, brushing against my hairy balls.
Oooh, I say in response.
He doesn't answer with words, but his deep voice says, yeaah, Baby, a lion's pur.
I am self conscious of my belly, of my nakedness. He smells like the outside, like oil, like strength.
Oh, I say, reaching up and back behind me to feel his hair. He strokes my soft belly, alternatively wiggling and caressing, a thick finger tracing a circle in my belly button making me say, ooooh.
I grab his wrist and aim his hand toward my balls, but he's too strong, caressing me elsewhere.
I try again, but shifting my hips and steering his hand toward my cock, but his hand won't move for me.
He cups my tit, reminding me I need to do bench as he squeezes my breast, his finger flicking my nipple, causing me to gasp.
I try to stand up, but he holds me down.
I turn sideways and lean away, but firm hands draw me back.
I shift my balls and cock toward his hand, but he effortlessly maneuvers me onto his lap, my bare ass up.
What? I hear myself say, cock and aching balls pressed against carhartt pants.
You did not obey well, so we'll fix that, he tells me with a smile.
Whack!
My right ass cheek burns as it jiggles.
Ow!
Whack!
My left ass cheek is on fire this time.
Are you going to do as you're told?
Yes, I mumbled, thinking, what the hell?
Whack!
Ow!
Yes!
Yes, what? he asked, hand caressing my sizzling bottom.
Yes, I will obey, I said clearly, not wanting another.
Good, he replied with a smile, fingers tickling my balls.
Oooh, I cooed, my ass raising involuntarily upwards.
Yeah Babe, he approved, fingers moving to the silky smoothness just below my balls.
Eeeeh, I moaned, reaching for the chair arm.
Ahhh, I couldn't help adding, his other stroking under me, across my belly, sadly missing my cock but tracing up to my tit, pinching.
Oh, I gasped, eyes wide, as one hand circled and thumbed my balls, the other cupping my breast, teasing my nipple.
Uuungh, I gasp-moaned, raising my ass and shaking a bit, his touch tantalizing me from both ends.
Hands adjusted, sitting me upright on his lap.
I turned to face him, but he positioned me looking away, my back to him.
Before I knew it, his hands were everywhere, all over me.
I moaned, licked my lips.
He slid a thick finger into my mouth, and I sucked it, softly at first, licking around it. He slid his finger in and out like a cock, and I tongued, sucking harder, groaning into his palm as the finger went in, and out, in, and out.
A hand lightly caressed my balls, tickled my perineum, made me Coo.
Fingers worked my nipples and fingers gripped my cock.
Oh God yes.
Finally!
I had written myself into my fantasy dream.
Almost without my knowing, my Diary and pen had fallen aside.
I leaned back into the chair, spreading my legs, one hand squeezing and sliding up, then down, my cock.
Up, then down.
My other hand found my balls, playing, wiggling fingers piano style, stroking the soft hairless underside, holding, cupping.
Ooooh....
I was alone, home, by myself.
But, I wasn't.
I spread my legs wider, played with my balls more, stroked my cock faster.
My arm transformed, becoming tattooed and muscular, the arm of my Italian lover. The fingers thickened as they stroked, gripped, pumped, palmed the underside of my cockhead, then pumped some more.
I panted, licking my lips, arching my back.
Oh God, I said, eyes rolling up.
I shoved a two fingers in my mouth and sucked them, and they were his fingers, thick, warm, in and out.
His muscular tattooed arm stroked under my cockhead again before pumping frantically.
Oh Baby!
Cloudy fog of lustful fantasy encircled me, flowed through me, was all around me.
I pictured muscles, tight abs, tattoos, Carhartts, the smell of outside and hard work.
He was standing over me, owning me, smiling down on me.
Oh Honey, I gasped.
Yeah Baby, he said through his grizzled smile, muscles rippling, pecs powerful, abs flexing.
Oh Baby, I cooed.
I spread my legs a little wider, imagined running my fingers over his chest, squeezing his firm pecs, leaning in to taste his nipple, to gently suckle his tit with my lips and tongue while he worked my cock, teased my balls and the silky smoothness below those hairy globes.
Yeah Baby, his eyes smiled at me.
Ah, ah, ah! I announced, the tidal wave roaring, warm, salty droplets scattering, spattering my chest, belly, lips.
Oh.My.God.
Monday morning arrived, and like every Monday, I was not ready.
My wife would be out of town until Wednesday.
With no one home, I slept naked, and truth be told, I tried to be naked as long as possible.
I felt somehow wild, free, being naked.
I poured my coffee and wandered to the sliding glass door, willing the warm liquid to clear the haze from my brain.
I stood in the sunlight, wondering if my neighbors could see me there nude, sipping coffee.
I felt some excitement standing in that bright morning light, and my eyes roved to see if anyone was looking.
Of course, I didn't see anyone, but there were some windows, high up.
Would someone look?
Would someone see?
Maybe my divorced neighbor would be out working in her yard, catch a glimpse of me?
Would someone enjoy taking in the visual of my naked body?
It made me feel a twinge of excitement that someone might look on me and see, might look on me and know, might look on me, and enjoy.
I took another drink of coffee.
Sometimes, if I felt brave, I would open the sliding glass door.
That way, if the view was obscured by sunlight on the glass, it was obscured no more.
With the door opened, there was nothing between the outside and me in my naked glory.
I slid the door open, and the cool air washed over me.
My nipples hardened at the chill and so did my abs.
I stood up tall, pretended I was looking out, looking around at yards and trees and houses, at something.
But, really, I was being brave and naked, showing off my belly, my chest, my cock, my balls, my bare chest, my naked self.
I turned, in case someone was looking, so they could see my profile, see my bare ass, see my round tummy.
A glance at the time brought me back to reality.
I downed my coffee, closed the door, and got ready for the day.
Routine HVAC maintenance was happening this morning to the unit in the back, a conference call at 1:30pm after lunch and a Zoom meeting at 3pm to get ready for between now and then plus some "work fire" emails to put out.
No time to show off the goods now, I laughed to myself, throwing on underwear, sweats, and a t-shirt, bustling here, rushing there.
Soon, my face was bathed in the light of my desktop computer, and I was emailing about this and that, then preparing for later, the conference call and the Zoom.
It's nice to be home in casual clothes, thought I, but it'll be dress clothes for the Zoom.
Ugh.
I was so focused on what I was thinking and doing that I almost missed the knock.
I opened the door.
A smiling man in coveralls said he was here for the HVAC, that his name was Chris, and could he go around the back.
Sure, sure, I said, hardly taking notice of him, back online in a jiffy.
A bit later, I'd solved one problem but found two more, and there was knock at the front door.
Ugh, I said out loud, and opened the door, surprised to see a man in coveralls.
Sheepishly, I realized after a moment who he was, the HVAC guy, as he showed me the work invoice and told me the damage.
Jeez.
I brought him a check, and he tore off my copy.
I had a brilliant thought about how to solve the latest problem, so I wanted to close the door and get back to work without another word.
But, it's good to be polite, so I wished him a fine rest of his day.
He turned to go, and I began pushing the door closed, resisting the temptation to slam it, so in a hurry was I to return to my laptop.
I don't want to forget this important thought! flashed through my head.
Click, went the door latch as it shut, and I exhaled in relief, turning toward my computer.
I'd scarcely taken three steps when I heard, tap tap tap.
What now?
I opened the door, and it was HVAC guy.
Mind if I use the bathroom? he asked.
I'll just be a moment, he added, perhaps realizing my irritation.
Sure, sure, I said, down the hall on the right.
Thanks man, he said.
I was back on my computer in no time, the click click click of my keys working as I formulated my solution.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw HVAC guy standing there, but I didn't pay much attention.
I might be rude, but I really have to get these ideas down while they are fresh in mind.
Click click click went my keyboard.
I glanced over at HVAC guy, and he was looking at his phone.
No need to rush him.
Yes, I thought, this will do it, tapping my keyboard with a click click click some more.
Somewhere in my mind, I wondered why HVAC guy was not off to his next job, but it really didn't matter.
What mattered was that I fixed this, so I could get onto the next work fire to be put out.
After another couple of minutes, I looked over toward HVAC guy, half expecting him to be letting himself out.
He was still standing there, reading something.
Probably his phone.
No, it wasn't his phone.
Something black.
Maybe an invoice, a work order?
No. Or, at least, I don't think so.
As though realizing that I was looking at him, he turned toward me, flashed a smile, and held up what he'd been reading.
It was my Diary.
Oh Jesus, I couldn't help but say out loud.
His smile got a little bigger.
He gestured toward my Diary.
Wow, he said.
I smiled weakly.
Wow, he said again, with a little more emphasis.
Nothing happened for a moment but silence, except my chest got tight, and my mouth got dry.
You're in luck, he said, breaking the silence.
Luck?
Yeah, he continued, my schedule opened up for the morning.
I looked at him.
I don't have another call until after lunch.
I stood up, legs a little weak, unsure.
Okay . . . . I began, tentatively.
So, he said as though stating the obvious, you're in luck because . . .
He paused.
Yes? I wondered.
. . . . because, we can try this out.
This? I asked.
This, he confirmed, thumping my diary.
I'm available to try out this, your fantasy, being with a man, whatnot.
After he said whatnot, he winked.
Oh, ugh, I . . . . I began, then faltered.
If you want, he said, reassuringly. Only if you want. No pressure. None at all.
He held up his hands.
I'm kind of curious myself, you know, about being with a guy, like you.
Uh huh, I managed.
Only, I, er, think of it differently, uh, than you, he said thoughtfully.
Yeah?
Yeah, see, I like to be in charge. What you wrote, that's pretty hot, if I don't say so myself. Hotter with me in charge, if you know what I mean.
Yeah?
Yeah. We might have ourselves a little fun, you know, if you want. What do you say?
Well . . . ..
I'm not Italian, though, and I don't have any tattoos. I know - crazy, right? But, I do have . . .
He paused again, pulling his long sleeved shirt over his head, revealing perhaps the most amazing Greek god physique I've ever seen.
HVAC guy looked like Captain America with his shirt off. His pecs were thick, round, defined - his abs were a six pack, maybe even an eight pack.
I can't say that I've ever looked at a man and admired how sexy he was, how sculpted and beautiful, because I'd always saved that for women.
That is, until now.
I was speechless.
Not bad, eh? he said, good humoredly, then flexed one, then another, pec making them jump upwards, then down.
You think I could be, uh, your guy, like what you wrote about? Like, I could fit the bill? Be in control? Call the shots?
He seemed sincere.
I was captivated.
I was frozen.
I licked my lips.
Well? he wondered, looking like he was starting to feel bad for overstepping.
He turned toward the door, shirt in hand.
Wait, I managed.
Yeah, he turned back toward me.
I froze again.
Uh, I tried to begin.
He took a step toward me, and he took my hand, placing it on his pec.
It was warm, strong, thick.
I'd never touched a man's chest before.
I palmed it, lightly caressing his nipple.
He smiled, then flexed.
His pec jerked in my hand, up, then down.
He took my other hand, placed it against his tight abs, gently caressing his rock hard stomach with my fingers.
We stood like that for some time, my hands caressing their way across his firm muscles, his pecs, his biceps, his lats, gently touching and exploring him with my fingers.
As I did so, he responded at times by flexing, a pec jumping here, an ab muscle tightening there, a lat tensing here, muscles rippling under my touch.
Well?
Well? I repeated back to him.
Well, he grinned, what do you say?
Shall we give your diary story a try?
Yes, I heard myself say as if I were speaking from another room.
Please, I added, unable to take my eyes off of him, his chest, his stomach, his arms, his smile.
Okay, he said warmly, then paused.
There's only one problem.
Problem? I said, suddenly worried, though somewhat reassured by his grin.
Yeah man, he said.
You need to get naked.
End of "Dear Diary" Chapter One
Note to Reader:
What did you think?
I would be pleased to hear from you - what you liked, what you didn't, whatever else you would like to tell me.
Whether I hear from you or not, I want to say - thank you very kindly for reading.
Kind regards,
Jacob442023@gmail.com