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Amy had never seen Tom glowering before, but he was now.
Standing in her entryway with his arms crossed over his gray t-shirt, he fixed her with a withering stare and said, "Tell me again. Slowly. Everything."
She drew in a deep breath and tried to order her whirling thoughts. "OK... I was lying in bed last night after, uh..." She tried not to blush. "After you left. And I was thinking about how much you like being naked in front of women, and how the girls are coming over this morning, and it just seemed like a perfect fit, you know? I mean, how they could have this gorgeous guy serve them naked... while he's naked, I mean, not them, and how this gorgeous guy could get off on being naked in front of four women, and hard, and how much I'd get off on having my gorgeous friend naked and hard and serving my friends, and—"
"Stop. Tell me what you actually did." If anything, Tom looked even more pissed.
"I...called the girls and told them that I could have a drop-dead gorgeous naked man serve us brunch."
He slowly uncrossed his arms, his fists clenching. "And you didn't think to ask me first. You never thought that I might have something to say about it."
Amy didn't know how to react to Tom being upset with her; in all the years of their friendship, he'd unfailingly been both kind and patient with her catastrophes, self-doubts and crises. That he was glaring at her told her she might have done something really wrong this time. She felt tears begin to well up, and desperately wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, to run into her bedroom and slam the door on him. Knowing that she might have wronged him, though, she seized her flagging courage, drew herself up and looked him square in the eyes.
"No," she admitted quietly. "I took your friendship for granted. I had no right to do that, and I'm truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me."
Without a word, Tom brushed by her and headed for the sofa. Her nerve broke, and she hurried after him, crying. "I'm sorry! I really am!" And stopped, suddenly speechless.
He was pulling off his t-shirt. As she watched, mouth agape, he folded it neatly and laid it on the arm of the sofa. He kicked off his flip-flops, slid his shorts down over his slim hips without having to unfasten them, and turned to face her, naked and grinning. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"
Amy could feel her mouth working but no sound emerged. Finally, she threw herself at him, fists flailing against his bare chest. "Ooh, you...bastard! You were just playing me!"
He caught her hands effortlessly, still grinning. "That'll teach you not to take me for granted!"
She sobered immediately. "Tom, I really am sorry."
He released her hands and caught her up in a gentle hug. "It's OK, hon. I just have to be careful about going naked in front of people I don't know. If this got back to my work, I could find myself pounding the pavements, and I really don't want that."
Amy pushed herself free and sat on the sofa, looking up at him. "I see. I know these girls, and I trust them, but you don't know them at all." He was slightly hard, she noticed idly, and stifled a grin. "Come here, would you?"
Tom arched an eyebrow, but silently moved to stand just in front of her knees. She reached out and gently cupped his smooth balls. "I absolutely promise never to volunteer your services without checking with you first. OK?" At his nod, she continued, "But for giving me such a fright..." She squeezed suddenly, and Tom's knees buckled slightly as he groaned. Her other hand wrapped his shaft, stroked; in a matter of seconds he sported a raging erection. "Don't ever do that to me again, buster!"
"Or what?" he asked softly.
She considered. "Well, maybe this..." Her tongue flicked out, laved the sensitive underside of his cockhead. "Or this..." She slid her hand from his balls to his perineum, gently massaging it before continuing on to press at the entrance to his asshole. She slid just the tip inward, resulting in a great inrush of breath and another groan. Satisfied, she released him, stood up and headed for the bedroom. Over her shoulder, she tossed back, "Or maybe none of them, ever again."
"Where are you going?" His voice was hoarse.
Amy stopped in the doorway, turned, and noted with pride how his straining cock bobbed in time with his heartbeat. "To change my panties, of course," she said matter-of-factly.
"Oh." As she began to close the bedroom door, he said, "Amy? Leave them off, would you? I like the idea of you being naked underneath while your friends are here."
She considered briefly, then winked at him. "We'll just have to see, won't we?" And quietly closed the door.
Thirty minutes later the first—and as it turned out, only—guest arrived. Amy opened the door and threw her arms around Valerie, her oldest and dearest friend, who was dressed to kill in a diaphanous white blouse over a shockingly short black skirt. Patent leather fuck-me pumps completed the outfit.
Hug completed, Amy pushed Valerie to arms' length and regarded her outfit. "A little dressy for just brunch at home, don't you think?"
"You should talk, missy." Valerie gave Amy the once-over in return. Amy was acutely conscious of her tight tank top—sans bra—over a barely-legal tan skirt. She wore no hose, and her bare feet were revealed by strappy sandals. "Looks like we both decided to make this a special occasion."
Amy felt a blush beginning and ruthlessly pushed it down. "Wait until you meet him. He's worth it, believe me. Where are the others?"
Valerie's face fell. "They can't make it. Jill is tied up with something for church, and Bev has a sick kid. I guess it's just us. But, hey," she added brightly, "that means we get wonder boy all to ourselves!"
Amy laughed, but felt a flicker of disappointment. For herself, or for Tom? She wasn't sure, but remembered how his face had lit up at the prospect of serving four women while naked. She hoped that he would still enjoy himself with just two, but... Ruthlessly, she pushed the thought away. He had certainly enjoyed himself with just her. Two had to be at least twice as much fun. "Come on in, and let's get this party started."
Obediently, Valerie followed her but stopped abruptly in the living room. "I have GOT to pee before I meet Mr. Studly. Be right back." She disappeared into the bathroom but immediately popped back out, an expression of wonder on her face. "You have live-in maid service now? I've never SEEN such a clean bathroom!"
Amy smiled, a satisfied Cheshire grin. "I owe it all to Mr. Studly the Wonder Boy."
Valerie's eyes got wide. "Oh. My. God. You've gotta tell me everything." The door closed behind her.
Laughing, Amy entered the kitchen, where she was treated to the sight of Tom, one bare foot on her kitchen counter, trying to reach a pitcher on top of the cabinet. Her breath caught at what the position did for his already tight buns, and how his cock and balls swung in time with his movements. For a moment, she considered reaching out to cup him, but contented herself with watching. Finally, he stretched far enough to snag the handle. With both feet firmly on the floor, he turned and caught her licking her lips.
"Or something, yes." She moved closer. "I've got good news and bad news, I'm afraid."
He searched her eyes. "Tell me the bad news."
"Two of the girls have had to cancel for this morning. Valerie's the only one who could make it. You'll meet her in a minute."
Relief lit his face. "That's the bad news? Tell me the good news."
"Put the pitcher down." She moved closer and reached out, one hand gently seizing his dangling cock, the other coming up to tweak a nipple. Over his inrush of breath, she said, "The good news is that the two of us will just work twice as hard to make this memorable for you." He was beginning to respond to her stroking, his cock swelling in her hand. She pulled gently with the hand still twisting his nipple and guided him with pressure on his semi-rigid cock until he backed into the corner of the base cabinets. "Hop up." With her hand still firmly stroking him, he eased his cheeks over the edges. "Good boy," she said softly. "Now put your feet on there, too." Back firmly against the top cabinets, he drew his legs up. "Heels wide apart. Spread 'em, boy. One leg along either counter." He was limber enough to rest each leg comfortably; the position put his legs 90 degrees apart.
Amy stepped back and considered. He was perfectly exposed, his balls dangling nicely over the vee where the cabinets met, and his cock rose and fell with each heartbeat. Still, something was missing. "Put your hands under your ass." He rocked slightly, slipping them beneath his bare cheeks on the Formica. No, that wasn't it. "Lace your fingers behind your neck." And when he complied, his elbows going back against the upper cabinets, she caught her breath. He was perfectly vulnerable. Perfectly delicious.
Now, she was thirsty. Turning away, she found a glass, began filling it from the water dispenser in the refrigerator door. Seized by a sudden idea, she quickly calculated the angles and the length of her skirt, and pulled the glass out. "This thing seems to be running slowly," she muttered, but made certain he could hear. Carefully balancing the glass, she stepped back, toward him but slightly to the side, and bent forward from the waist to peer at the water dispenser. She could feel the back of her skirt slide up her bare legs, and grinned fiercely as she heard a soft groan come from behind her. "Can't see anything wrong. Maybe you can look at it later." Straightening, she turned to find his cock pointing nearly straight upward; lifting her gaze, she discovered that he was breathing hard.
"Did you like what you saw?" She idly sipped her water while she waited for him to answer.
"Very much, yes." His voice was hoarse. "You left your panties off."
"Did I? Or was that a thong? Hmm. How will you ever know for sure?" She stepped forward and held the glass to his lips, tilted it. As will happen the first time two people try such a thing, some dribbled out and ran down his chest. Pulling the glass away, she leaned forward and trailed her tongue along his chest, lapping up the tiny rivulet but making a detour to tease, nibble, lick and torment a nipple. She bit down slightly, both heard and felt his gasp, and felt a trickle of moisture between her legs.
Without warning, clapping came from behind her. She spun around to see Valerie leaning on the doorjamb, face flushed, nipples up, and beating her hands together for all she was worth.
"Damn, girl! I never would have suspected. You're just full of surprises!" She stopped applauding, strode forward to stand with one hip brushing against Tom's leg. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" Her eyes hungrily drank in Tom's straining cock, his swollen balls, and finally tracked upward to his face.
"Valerie, this is Tom. Tom, this is Miss Valerie." Amy was astonished by how normal and unstrained her voice sounded, even having been caught licking the chest of a hugely erect naked man sitting on her kitchen counter.
"I'm most pleased to meet you, Miss Valerie." If anything, he sounded hoarser than before.
Valerie laughed. "And I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you, Tom. All of you. Looks like I was right to name you Mister Studly." She deliberately tracked her gaze downward, then slowly back up again. "Under the circumstances, let's dispense with shaking hands. I find I like you just as you are." She stepped closer, reached out. "Of course, that doesn't mean we can't shake." Turning to Amy, she raised an eyebrow in question.
Stifling a grin, Amy replied solemnly, "Of course. What's mine is yours." She watched, fascinated, as Valerie wrapped her fingers around Tom's straining cock and pulled it forward and down.
"I find that the art of shaking has been eroded over the years, don't you, Tom?" Valerie was gently, slowly, working his cock up and down and stroking. "People nowadays just crudely, uh, pump away, don't they? I mean, in the old days, a man would gently hold a woman's hand—" She stopped stroking him but continued to speak as she slowly bent forward. "Then gracefully bow, and place the lightest of kisses"—her tongue snaked out and barely flicked the tip of his pre-cum covered cock—"just so." Rising with an absolutely straight face, still holding him, her other hand reached beneath, gently cupped his balls. "Of course, a gentleman who was truly smitten might use both hands." She squeezed, slowly, steadily, increasing the pressure.
Tom sat rigidly, eyes tightly shut, body shaking. Eventually, he seemed to realize that some response was required and after several tries and much throat-clearing, managed to reply, "I would have to agree, Miss Valerie. And may I say what a pleasure it is to find a woman who understands these things."
Valerie released him, stepped back. "Amy, you're right. He is quite a find."
She was surprised to find a streak of—was it jealousy? possessiveness?—rising up, but told herself firmly that she didn't own Tom. And, she had invited Valerie and the others to share. "I think so, too. But I did invite you for brunch. Would you like some coffee? And we've got the best pastries from Antoine's."
"That would be marvelous, hon. I bet the patio is just wonderful right now. Shall we?"
"We shall." To Tom, Amy said, "We'll take brunch on the patio. Unless you and the counter would prefer to continue your relationship, of course."
Tom stared at her, eyes wide, as if he saw her for the first time. "Of course, Miss Amy. Brunch served on the patio, at once." He gently lowered himself to the floor, and Amy drank in the sight of his throbbing cock nearly upright against his belly, pre-cum still glistening at the tip. Mentally shaking herself out of her fascination, she led Valerie through the living room and onto the patio.
"Where in the hell did you find him?" Valerie asked once they were comfortably seated beside a circular glass-top table.
"We've been friends for years. And then, last night, something—something happened." Amy described the entire sequence of events, from first seeing Tom nude while he cleaned her bathtub, to his revelation that he loved being naked in front of women, to her first fumbling attempts at, for the first time in her life, holding and using power. As if from a great distance, she listened to herself as she described requiring Tom to bare every inch of his flesh, even his asshole, how she had squeezed and stroked his cock and balls, had paddled his ass and swatted his cock, and how this very morning she had sucked that same cock while violating his ass with her finger. She listened and marveled at how she'd changed in a mere 18 hours. The woman she had been would never have spoken like that, much less done those things.
And now her nipples were hard from just talking about it. She'd changed, and she liked the new person she'd become.
Amy fell silent as Tom bore a heavily laden tray onto the patio, which he deposited on the table opposite them. Avoiding eye contact, he unfolded linen napkins (which appeared to be ironed, Amy marveled—when had he found time to do that?) and carefully draped each of their laps. His cock, only slightly diminished by lack of attention, continued to bob before him as he moved, at times less than a foot from her lips. She was treated to glimpses of his ass cheeks as he turned slightly, and only just stopped herself from reaching out to sink her nails into the tender flesh. He unloaded a thermal carafe, cream and sugar containers, small china plates, cups and saucers, silver flatware, cups of mixed fruits, and pastries carefully arranged on a serving plate. That done, he stood with his hands clasped behind him, nearly a "Parade Rest" position, one nipple still faintly reddened from her teeth, and simply... waited, his cock swelling under their combined gaze.
All the men Amy had known would have been demanding release, a hand job, a blow job, a fuck. But not Tom. Sucked and stroked, tormented and teased, hard and aching, Tom still asked for nothing, was content to wait knowing that she would use him again for her pleasure, and his.
This is mine, Amy realized. Mine if I want it. And found she could not speak.
Valerie seemed to recognize her problem. "Tom, fetch a broom and sweep off an area four feet on a side, right there." She pointed to a spot on the edge of the patio that was within easy viewing of them both. "Then fetch three bath towels."
He drew himself to attention. "Yes, Miss Valerie."
After he left, Valerie poured coffee for them both, then turned to her. "Who trained him?"
"Who trained him? Who was his Mistress before?"
Amy shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about." She added cream and a bit of sugar, stirred.
Valerie sighed, exasperated, and leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. "You really don't know what you've got here, do you? Hon, he's been trained to be a submissive, to serve flawlessly, and to tolerate pain. That's not something a guy does by himself. Some woman took him in hand and molded him to be what she wanted."
Amy found herself resenting the phrase, "Took him in hand" but decided not to mention it. "I don't know. I thought—well, I guess I thought that this is just the way he is."
Valerie emitted a most unladylike snort. "Not a chance, believe me. Everything he's done for you, and for so little in return—"
"It didn't seem like 'so little' to me!" Amy protested.
"You've barely scratched the surface, Amy. There's so much more, if you want it."
The uncanny echo of Amy's earlier thought sent her mind whirling. While she struggled with her confusion, Tom returned and efficiently swept the designated area clean, then departed, presumably to bring the towels. He was still hard, she noted, fondly watching his ass cheeks as he walked. "Why didn't he just bring everything in one trip?" she wondered aloud.
Valerie sipped at her own coffee, then replied, "He's doing exactly what I told him to do—no more, and no less. What does that tell you?"
"He HAS been trained!" she exclaimed. "Fuck me!"
Valerie laughed. "That, too, and much more, hon. I can tell."
Tom must have parked the towels just inside the door, because he abruptly returned, neatly folded towels in his arms, to stand on the spot he'd just swept. "Good," said Valerie. "Unfold one completely and lay it with the narrow end towards us. Then use the other two, folded, to cover it." In a matter of moments, it was done, and Valerie asked, "How do you want him, Amy?"
She had the sense of something momentous looming toward her, that the decision she made, the next words she spoke, would determine her course, and perhaps Tom's, for years to come. She didn't know if she was ready to make that decision, or for the responsibility that she instinctively knew would accompany it. Then she saw Tom, waiting, trusting her, and her mind was made up. She would not let this get away.
Frightened but determined, shivering, but not knowing why, she said, "Hands and knees, facing away from us. Head down on your hands, ass in the air. Knees spread." He complied immediately, the position allowing a clear view of his ass, balls and cock, delightfully contrasted with the vibrant green of her lawn and the riotous color of a flower bed.
Valerie laughed, delighted. "One of my very favorite positions. You're a natural."
To be continued...
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Posted by ATCFNM at 11:11 AM