THE MASTERY OF TABLE-TURNING
[Brought uncontrollably and very obviously to orgasm whilst scantily clad in the middle of a busy Saturday morning shopping at the local supermarket, Alan Watson is left to muse upon how much lower a state of degradation he can be forced into by his young masters.]
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - Some Unexpected Guests
Of course, I told myself, stripping off my come-stained track suit as I stood in front of the washing machine in my kitchen, I would never be able to bring myself to shop in that particular supermarket again. The look of startled disgust in those boy's eyes as he registered what had happened to me, glancing as he did in horror and disbelief from the wet splash marks of my shameful spendings on the front of the track suit bottoms and back up to my face, I felt, would haunt me for the rest of my days.
I stood naked in my kitchen, cold semen drying on my belly, when the doorbell rang. Grabbing my short robe, I clutched it tightly across my frame as I opened the door. I nearly let go of it in shock upon recognising my visitor, for there stood Rosemary.
"Hallo, Alan," she said with a big smile.
I was frozen with sheer panic.
"I was just passing with a little time to kill, and seeing you again last night seemed somehow special in a way. I thought I'd just stop by to say hello."
I stared at her foolishly.
"Have I caught you at a bad time?" she asked, running her eyes up and down the length of my bare legs.
"Erm, yes. Yes you have," I responded somewhat ungallantly. "I was about to have a shower."
"Well, I'm sure it will wait for a little while. Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Well, the fact is I've got very little on, as you can see," I began nervously.
"Alan, I saw far more than that last night alone," she said with a low throaty chuckle. "Look, I'm simply gasping for a cuppa. Be an angel - for old time's sake?" she wheedled.
My brain was seething. I so desperately did not want to invite her into my house. Indeed, she had never been here before. I was living in a flat on the other side of town when we were going out together. The house purchase came about just as she was beginning to go cool on me. Indeed, thinking back, it was probably the house purchase that accelerated our parting. A new mortgage meant that I did not have as much money to spare upon entertainment for Rosemary and myself.
For all its efforts in overtime, my brain could not come up with one convincing excuse with which to prevent Rosemary from gaining entry, and it was with a heavy heart that I opened the door fully and stood aside to allow her in.
"You're an absolute darling," she purred, and pecked me on the cheek as she passed.
I followed her through into the living room, feeling like a spare part - and a rather exposed one at that. I invited her to sit, and backed off in alarm as I realised that if I stood too close to the couch she could see even further up the hem of my abbreviated robe. I moved through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Stooping to get the biscuit tin from the cupboard, I was suddenly arrested by an exclamation from her.
"My god, Alan, you really are stark naked under that thing, aren't you? I just got a glimpse of your scrotum then when you bent down."
I was scarlet with embarrassment instantaneously, and began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Tell me, what on earth is that shiny steel egg-shaped thing you're wearing?"
As I stammered and stuttered my way through a thoroughly unconvincing explanation that it was a form of surgical support for jogging, and apologising profusely for my unintentional display, I could see the look of amused disbelief playing around her lips and eyes. I groaned inwardly as I felt my penis lengthen and swell, a law unto itself and in direct opposition to my earnest wishes for it to remain limp and concealed.
"I always knew you were a bit of a dark horse, Alan, but I never knew until last night you were hung like one ," she said pointedly.
"I apologise unreservedly for you having seen that gross exhibition, Rosemary," I began. "It was an inexcusable piece of bovine behaviour on my part - the result of a stupid bet lost," I lied. "Needless to say, I am appalled that you witnessed such a crass and disgusting display on my part." That bit was so very true.
"Oh, Alan, Alan, if only I'd witnessed a bit more of that side of you earlier, things might have been very different now," she interjected with a mournful little smile.
I was dumbfounded. I think I physically gaped at her.
"You're a lovely man, Alan; considerate in every detail, but ever so slightly boring. Last night I saw the dangerous side you have obviously kept so repressed in the past. With me, at any rate. Do you realise, I've never even seen your legs before last night at the rugby club, let alone your chest? And then when I was able to see your finest feature in all its rampant splendour in the glare of my own headlights - well, it simply took my breath away.
"I remember when we used to go out together, you were charming, appealingly shy, a shade old-fashioned admittedly, but basically - " she paused, searching for the right word, " - boring. One night when you had invited me to dinner at the flat and were busy dishing up in the kitchen, I went on a little reconnoitre in your bedroom. Do you know what I found? Striped winceyette pyjamas under your pillow, Alan, and baggy Y-fronts in your underwear drawer. I was very disappointed, but somehow not surprised. Do you remember I bought you a pair of sexy scarlet bikini briefs once?"
I nodded, unable to tell her that I often wore them now to order.
"Do you remember what you said when you saw them?" she asked me.
I shook my head.
"When I teasingly asked you to model them for me, you said you'd rather die than be caught in them, that they were obscenely small and that obviously I didn't know you very well if I thought there was the slightest chance of your wearing them. Well, you see, Alan, I did think there was the slightest chance. Just as I thought they might lead to the slightest chance of spicing up our relationship."
I looked mournfully into her eyes but did not have the words she wanted to hear. It was an uncomfortable silence broken by the boiling of the kettle.
When the tea was made and poured and I had very carefully sat down opposite her with my knees pressed firmly together, she broke the silence.
"Last night made me think there was still the slightest chance, Alan."
"Last night?" I was aghast. "I should have thought what you saw of my behaviour last night would have put any decent girl completely off me. I behaved appallingly and inexcusably."
Without another word, Rosemary put down her teacup and saucer and rose.
"Goodbye, Alan. "I'll let myself out," she said coldly.
"What's the matter? What have I said?" I leapt up in dismay.
"If you don't know that, then there's no hope," she turned on her heel and walked into the hall.
"Tell me, how have I upset you now?" I beseeched her, following.
"I told you, there's no need to see me out. I am more than capable. I walked out of your life once; at least, I'm grateful to you for confirming that I did the right thing."
I was at a total loss - still more so when she opened the door to reveal Neil Sanderson standing there.
"Neil! What are you doing here?" she gasped, startled.
Neil turned and looked at me dressed as I was in the towelling robe.
"I might well ask you the same question," he countered with a harsh inflexion.
"I'm just leaving," and she stalked off down the garden path with her head held high.
Neil turned back and regarded me curiously.
"Well, what was all that about?" he asked quizzically.
"To be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure," I said.
"Something you said?"
"I imagine it must have been, but I sincerely can't think what."
"Tut, women, eh?" he said with a rueful grin and stepped forward.
"What is it that you want, Neil?" I asked.
"I want to ask a little favour, if I may?" he grinned again and sidled past me. "Aren't you going to close the door?"
With mounting concern, I closed the door and followed the former head boy into the living room.
"She obviously left very abruptly. Look, never so much as touched her tea," he said pointing at her cup and saucer on the floor by the couch. "Was it a post-coital cuppa, by the way?"
"How dare you! What an outrageous thing to say!" I began in high moral dudgeon.
"No, didn't think so. You swing more the other way, don't you?"
"Look here, I think you had better leave this minute," I glared at him coldly.
He smiled, stooping to pick up Rosemary's tea and raising it to his lips.
"Shame to waste it," he said, "when you'd gone to all the trouble. Cheers."
He toasted me with the cup and drank deeply from it.
"You make a good cup of tea, Sir, Very nice indeed," he said replacing it in its saucer.
"I'm glad you like it," I said with icy hauteur, "and now perhaps you'll go."
"Oh not yet awhile," he smiled at me. "Please let me stay for a bit, Mr Watson."
"As you can see, it is very inconvenient at the moment," I explained gesturing at my general deshabille. "So, if we can cut the cackle and get straight down to the point of your visit?"
"All right, if that's the way you want it. I want to suck your cock."
I stood transfixed, staring at him in sheer disbelief at what I'd just heard.
"I've had it recommended to me, and last night I saw it for myself, so now I want to sample its delights."
"Who . . . ?" I began, and faltered.
"Who recommended it?" he filled in the blanks. "Oh come on, Mr Watson! I'm certain you don't put it around so much that you can't imagine who'd have told me about it. Not a man in your professional position, for sure."
"Was it . . . ?" Again, my nerve failed me.
"Mr Whalley? Of course it was. Right, first time. So, if you'll let the dog see the rabbit, we can begin while my mouth's nice and hot after that splendid cup of tea."
With that, he reached out and attempted to pull open the front of my robe. I leapt away.
"Just a minute! Don't I have a say in this?" I asked, scandalised at his presumptuousness.
"Do you know, Mr Watson . . . ? I don't think you do, actually. I think you just have to lie back and think of England - unless, that is, you fancy a sixty-niner?
There was just sufficient implied blackmail in his smooth tone to unnerve me totally.
I had lain naked on the sofa while Neil Sanderson licked me and tweaked my nipples, resigned to my fate of being thus used. Utterly, utterly humiliated, demeaned and degraded, I could not yet ignore my state of high excitement and the ecstasy that his stimulation caused me and to which my body so brazenly responded. My groans were heavy with lust, and I writhed sensuously at his touch, teeth chattering, panting with exertion. I could not stop myself from assisting him as he began to unfasten his clothing. I had ceased being Alan Watson, public schoolmaster; instead I had been transmogrified into an animal rejoicing in its own bestiality, and in quite as an horrific a manner easily as that of Dr Jekyll into Mr Hyde.
He had "deep-throated" me, he informed me afterwards, and I had thrust forward and bucked maniacally, eyes screwed shut, tongue between teeth in a frenzy of sexual fulfilment. I had come twice, for he had refused to cease after my first orgasm and continued to suck and chew and lick,. He had come once and had used his semen to lubricate the shaft of my penis then sucked it into his mouth as he laved me with his tongue. He had drawn little screams and whimpers from me as he'd teased my sensitive foreskin with his teeth. I was unable to resist his blandishments and was soon spouting again, though not as profusely.
All sorts of thoughts had flooded through my fevered mind as this assault upon my person had ensued - not least thoughts of Rosemary. There was a keenness to my sense of loss, although tempered somewhat unnervingly with the comforting thought that it was not so much a loss of Rosemary per se; more a loss of a way of life. I was at last coming to the conclusion - realisation, moreover - that I was not as other men - or, at any rate, not as the vast majority of other men. Women would remain on the verge of my life, I felt sure now. I was at last reconciled to that thought.
That I had enjoyed my experience with Neil Sanderson enormously, I could not deny even to myself. I was enraptured. I shuddered and shook convulsively as if with an ague as my orgasms swept over me, and I almost seemed to lose consciousness at one point, so intense was the feeling within me. The sensitivity of my exposed glans to the teasing stab of his tongue tip elicited puppy-like noises from me which were somehow quite shamingly incontrollable. That he knew how wholly I'd been swept away by the whole experience was also more than a little undignified for me to endure, somehow.
He had been absolutely fascinated by the cock ring and the egg-shaped motor underneath which so closely resembled a third testicle. He had probed both it and me, wanting to know more about it, what it was for, who had put it there. I countered that it was a private part of my life, not open to him. I added that I had no wish to pry into his relationship with Rosemary, and that our liaison this afternoon would remain a completely confidential matter between the two of us. I went on to hope and trust he would be more discreet than my colleague, Mr Whalley, who seemed only too keen to brag of his many conquests.
Wide-legged, and with a dull ache from my over-used groin area, I let Neil Sanderson out of my house, only after he had elicited from me a firm promise that he could return. Showered and dry once more, I was in the kitchen putting the washed track suit trousers into the tumble-drier when the telephone went.
"Hallo there, Big Boy." It was Whispering Tim. "Got anything planned for tonight?"
I told him no.
"Good; then you're coming to a party with us. See how much we think of you?"
I frowned, sceptical of this unwonted altruism on his part.
"I don't have to wear the track suit, do I, Sir?" I enquired tentatively.
"Oh no. Don't you worry about what you have to wear, Big Boy. It's fancy dress, anyway, so leave all that to us."
He hung up.
All of a sudden, I began to worry very much about what I would have to wear.