Colin stood in the holiday cottage he owned with his wife. A few days to himself to do some work but he had a secret .The silk of the negligee slithered over Colin’s thighs as he adjusted his stance before the full-length mirror. A soft, peach-coloured whisper of fabric, a hidden self he could only set free when utterly alone. He smoothed the delicate lace trim over his hips, his 58-year-old heart thumping a frantic, giddy rhythm against his ribs. he would soon be stroking his hard cock watching trans porn imagining himslef being used. His cock twitched. When he marrried Janet he vowed no more cock fun Over 30 years now and he yearned to taste a cock again or more.
The cool air of the empty house kissed his nylon covered legs, a sensation both alien and deeply familiar. He’d just fastened the single clasp of a simple pearl necklace when a shadow fell across the window.
His head snapped up. Oh, God.
A sudden, sharp rap at the cottage’s back door shattered the silence.
His heart slammed against his ribs, a frantic bird in a cage of bone. Janet? No, she’s in the city. A delivery? Too late.
The knocking came again, more insistent this time. Then a voice, deep and laced with a casual confidence that carried easily through the old wood. “Saw the light on. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright in there."
Gary. The gardener from the next dor. Colin’s mouth went dry. He’d seen Gary around, a man in his late thirties all sun-kissed skin and work-tough hands, his gaze always a little too direct, a little too knowing.
There was no hiding. The cottage was small, the bedroom visible from the back doorway. Swallowing a sob of pure terror, Colin grabbed a sheer silk robe, tying it shut with fumbling fingers. It hid nothing, only adding another translucent layer to his humiliation. He pulled the door open just a crack
Gary stood there, leaning against the doorjamb, his gaze immediately dropping, then slowly, so slowly, traveling back up the length of Colin’s body. A slow, wolfish smile spread across his face. “Well, hello there,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I was just checking on the place. Didn’t expect to find ……”.
Colin was frozen. Every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to tear the damned things off.. But his feet were leaden. And a treacherous, long-buried part of him thrilled at being seen.
“I… I can explain,” Colin stammered, his voice higher than usual, breathy with fear.
“Don’t bother,” Gary said, his eyes locking onto Colin’s. The amusement was gone, replaced by an intensity that was utterly captivating. “The words. Don’t bother with them. The clothes say plenty.” He pushed the door open gently, his strength undeniable, and stepped inside. The space, once a sanctuary, now felt dangerously small, charged with a raw, masculine energy that made Colin’s knees weak.
Gary’s gaze travelled down the length of the negligee, a deliberate, appreciative journey that made Colin’s skin prickle. “Looks like you’re explaining just fine.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, his presence overwhelming the space. “That colour… it suits you. ”
In one fluid motion, he pulled a phone from his back pocket. “You’re not the only one with secrets, darling.” He tapped the screen a few times and then turned it toward Colin.
It was a private online forum. Profile after profile of men. Older men, younger men, all in various states of undress, wearing lingerie, wigs, full makeup. Sissies, the header read. A Community for Devotees and Their Admirers.
“I’m an admin,” Gary said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “A Master, to some. I find lost, beautiful things and help them shine.” He slid the phone back into his pocket and took a final step forward, erasing the distance between them. Colin could smell the clean scent of his soap, the faint hint of earth and sweat
. “You have a choice,” Gary breathed, his lips inches from Colin’s ear. The heat of his body was a brand. “You can shut this door, go back to your lonely little game, and pretend this never happened. Or…” He lifted a hand and finally, finally touched him. His rough, calloused fingertips traced the line of Colin’s jaw, a shocking contrast to the soft silk. “…You can learn what it’s like to be truly seen. To be owned.”
It was a line, a boundary he had sworn never to cross again. But the loneliness of a lifetime, the weight of the secret, pressed down on him. This man wasn’t mocking. He was… inviting. Colin gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Gary’s smile returned, predatory and pleased. “Good girl. Now, let’s get a better look at what’s mine.”. The rough pad of Gary’s thumb stroked Colin’s skin, and a shuddering sigh escaped him. It was the first tender touch he’d received in years that wasn’t from his wife, and it felt completely different. Gary traced the line of Colin’s jaw, then drifting down the column of his neck to brush the faux pearls. His other hand came up, encircling Colin’s waist, pulling him gently forward until their bodies wer e touching. Colin could feel the hard muscle of Gary’s chest through the thin silk, a contrast that made his head spin.
Colin gasped at the contact, the solid, unyielding strength of the man holding him. Gary lowered his head, nuzzling the sensitive spot where Colin’s neck met his shoulder, his stubble a delicious friction against the smooth skin. Gary’s lip trailed a searing path down Colin’s neck to his collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. One hand slid from Colin’s waist to the small of his back, pressing them firmly together and Colin gasped at the hard ridge of Gary’s arousal pressing against his hip.
Gary’s hands were firm on his hips, steering him through the cottage’s cozy living area. Colin’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the thump-thump-thump of his own pulse in his ears. The silk of his negligee and nylons felt impossibly thin, a mere whisper of fabric between his skin and Gary’s commanding touch.
“The kitchen, I think,” Gary murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Colin’s back. “Good, solid counters.”
The cool, checkered linoleum met Colin’s nyloned feet. Gary positioned him before the large, central island, its polished surface gleaming under the soft evening light filtering through the window. With a gentle but undeniable pressure on the small of his back, Gary bent him forward. Colin’s palms flattened against the cool surface, his arms straight, his body forming a deep, presenting arch. The hem of his negligee rode up, bunching around his waist, exposing the full, pale curve of his arse to the room—to Gary
Gary’s warm, calloused hands smoothed over the offered flesh, a possessive, approving caress. “So perfect. So ready.” His voice was thick with desire. One hand remained splayed on Colin’s hip, holding him in place, while the other trailed down, a single, rough fingertip tracing the sensitive cleft between his cheeks.
Colin whimpered, a soft, desperate sound. He pressed his forehead against the cool counter, his eyes squeezed shut, every nerve ending hypersensitive and screaming for what was to come.
“I’ve seen you, you know,” Gary said conversationally, his finger still making lazy, torturous circles. “Before today. Through the window. Slinking around in a in sexy little numbers. Wanking into your panties. .”
The admission sent a fresh jolt through Colin. He’d been seen. The secret life he thought was his alone had an audience of one.
Gary’s finger pressed more insistently, breaching the tight ring of muscle just enough to make Colin gasp and push back instinctively. “And I know about Janet,” he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I know about all the ‘book club’ meetings and ‘weekends with the girls.’ I’ve seen her lovers come and go from this very cottage. Men. Younger men. Older men. More than one at the same time”
Oh god. The truth of his wife’s own secret life landed like a physical blow, not of betrayal, but of sudden, shocking kinship. They were both living lies. The knowledge should have shamed him, but all it did was fuel the fire of his own liberation. If she could have her pleasure in secret, why couldn’t he claim his?
.”
The blunt, wet tip of a finger, slick with something cool and slick—spit, Colin realized—pressed firmly against his entrance. Gary’s other hand clamped harder on his hip, a silent command to stay still.
“Breathe out for me, sweetie ,” Gary instructed, his voice gentle yet allowing no argument.
Colin exhaled a shaky breath, and as he did, Gary’s finger pushed inward.
It was a slow, inexorable burn, a stretch that was both alien and deeply, profoundly right. Colin cried out, his fingers scrabbling against the smooth wood of the counter. Gary’s finger was thick, a solid intrusion that filled him in a way he had never, ever experienced. The initial sting quickly melted into a deep, radiating fullness that made his knees tremble.
“Just take it. Take what I give you.”
He began to move, a slow, shallow pump that made Colin see stars behind his closed eyelids. Every tiny movement was amplified, a symphony of sensation: the rough texture of Gary’s hand, the incredible tightness, the shocking intimacy of it all. With each withdrawal, Colin felt a desperate, empty ache, and with each thrust, a guttural moan was punched from his lungs.
.
Gary curled his finger, and a bolt of pure, undiluted pleasure shot through Colin, so intense it was almost painful. A scream tore from Colin’s throat. Oh, god, there, right there!
Gary chuckled, a dark, wicked sound of satisfaction. “Found it.” He did it again, and again, scissoring his finger, stretching him, preparing him, each movement designed to unravel Colin completely.
Colin was lost, a whimpering, pleading mess against the counter., to the feeling of being expertly opened and claimed. His own cock, trapped between his belly and the hard counter, was a rigid, leaking ache.
“Please,” Colin begged, the word torn from him. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. More. Less. Everything. Nothing.
“Please, what?” Gay demanded, adding a second finger.
The stretch was breathtaking, a white-hot flare of pleasure-pain that stole the air from Colin’s lungs. He sobbed, his body instinctively trying to clench down on the incredible invasion.
“Please… Master,” Colin gasped, the title feeling foreign and perfect on his tongue.
Gary stilled his fingers, buried deep. “Good boy.” He leaned down, his chest pressed against Colin’s back and nipped at the soft skin of his shoulder. “Such a good, wanton slut for me. But this is just the beginning. Just a taste.”
He began to move his fingers again, a faster, more deliberate rhythm now, scissoring and curling, stretching him open for what was to come. The slick, obscene sound of it filled the quiet kitchen, a lewd testament to Colin’s complete and total surrender.
“Are you ready to feel me?” Gary’s voice was a hot, dark promise against his skin. “The real thing? I’m not going to be as gentle as my fingers.”
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