I was spending the day with a good friend, John. In his early sixties, a widower, polite, good looking, very funny, he could keep me laughing for ages. Not with corny jokes, just by talking. He had such a fun way of looking at the world. So, what was my problem with him?
He treated me as a friend. That was all. Just a friend. I had known him for over two years, and in all that time he never made any move on me, never had a crafty touch, or made any suggestive remark. Not even a compliment on how I looked. It was as if I was not even female, just a friend.
I was certain he was not gay. He had commented on other women we saw, and once, when I went to his home for coffee, I saw a men's magazine before he hid it away in the magazine rack. So what was his problem? Was it me? Did he just not fancy me in that way? I think I started to regard him as a challenge. Besides, I had always enjoyed older men, they were so considerate. there was no rush, just lots of foreplay, and lots of satisfaction for greedy me.
Today, we had gone to Southport, where he had a small retail unit in a collector's arcade. We went over together once a month, sometimes more in summer. He restocked and tidied his stall, while I checked out the other stalls, then we went out, my arm in his, to check out the shops.
We usually strolled around them, mainly window-shopping. Occasionally I would buy something trivial, a scarf or gloves maybe. Today I intended cracking through that shell John seemed to have erected around himself. It was rather chilly so we went for a coffee, and I determined to get him talking. I could have saved my breath, he talked about anything and everything, except why he was not interested in me as a woman. Ok, time for more pressure.
After leaving the coffee shop, I steered us into a department store and the lingerie department. I could see he was embarrassed, especially once I found a wonderfully sexy bra, in pale green, with matching bikini briefs, very lacy and almost see-through.
I held them up so he could see them clearly, and asked, "What do you think, John?"
He had to clear his throat before answering, and all I got was a quiet, "Very nice."
I paid for them, and after a bit more shopping, including a cooked chicken from the barbecue shop, and a ready-prepared salad and fresh bread from the food counter, we headed home. Once there, he walked me to my door as always and tried to get away with a quick kiss on the cheek, but I grabbed his arm.
"Do you really need to dash home so soon, John?" I asked him.
"Well, no, not really." he admitted.
We went in, and I turned the heating on, before putting the kettle on for a drink.
Going into the living room, I told John, "Put the telly on and take your jacket off. You are not dashing off yet, are you?"
He did as I said, sitting in one of the armchairs. If he thought that would save him, he was dreaming.
"What do you want to drink, tea or coffee?" I asked.
"Coffee please, Marie." he said.
I made the drinks and returned, putting them on the side table, before dropping onto his knee, sideways on to him, and putting an arm round his neck.
"John, are you really going to run off to an empty house?" I asked, "leaving me alone to eat a solitary meal when I have just brought a roast chicken for us to have together?"
"Well, when you put it like that," he admitted, "no, of course not."
"Good," I told him, "so relax. John, how long have we known each other?"
"A little over two years," he admitted.
"Over two years," I repeated, "So tell me, what is wrong with me?"
"How do you mean?" he asked, "There is nothing wrong with you, you look wonderful."
"Then why do you avoid showing any interest in me?" I said bluntly, looking straight at him.
He closed his eyes for a moment before telling me, "Marie, beautiful Marie. I am sixty-three. I am not the stallion I once was."
He snorted before continuing, "Truth is, I never was. You are young, attractive. No, You are more than that, you are gorgeous. What can an old man like me have for you?"
I kissed him on the lips, gently, for the first time since I had known him.
"Well, for now, you could try kissing me," I suggested, "and we will worry about the rest later."
He took my suggestion, and after several minutes I broke away for breath.
"Oh, wow, John," I told him, "that was a kiss! Well, that answers one question." My hand softly touched the rather evident swelling in his trousers.
"And that answers another," I smiled, "Now, could you kindly remove that hand which seems to be holding my bottom, and I will go get some food ready for us. Salad, cold chicken, and bread ok?"
"Perfect," he told me, "Do we need any wine getting?"
"Some in the fridge, if supermarket brand is ok for you?" I said, "Grab some glasses out of that cupboard, and I will get the food."
After an enjoyable meal, (food always tastes better with good company, and interesting conversation), I refilled our glasses, and we sat on the sofa, comfortably close.
"Marie," John said quietly, "before we go any further, we need to talk."
"What's wrong, John?" I asked, "Changed your mind?"
"No, of course not," he stated, "but look. It has been a long time since I made love to any woman, let alone somebody as beautiful as you." He looked embarrassed as he continued, "What I am trying to say is, don't expect me to last long. I almost came when you touched me earlier."
I put my glass down, before kissing him softly and saying, "Oh, John. Is that all you are worried about?"
He nodded sheepishly. I kissed him again, this time feeling his arm go around me.
"Listen, If I told you that you could spend as long as you wanted," he looked at me as I spoke, "doing anything and everything you wanted with me, but no actual love-making, would you still want to stay?"
"Of course." he declared, "Any man would."
"And If told you," I added, "that this includes any dream or wish you ever had, and using hands, mouth, and a selection of toys which just happen to be in my bedside cabinet?"
"Darling, I would think all my Christmases had come at once," he told me.
"So where is the problem, my dear?" I asked, "The whole point of this is for two people to make each other happy. And if at some point, you decide to make love to me, that is fine too."
He looked relieved at this.
"Besides," I went on, "nothing in the rules says the game has to end with your climax."
He smiled, then kissed me deeply, his hand starting to explore.
"Ah, not just yet, greedy boy," I told him. "Work first. I have the washing up to get out of the way, and a couple of other little jobs to attend to before we can start."
"Soon solved," he said, landing a firm smack on my bottom as we stood, "I will wash up, you go do whatever else is needed."
I took advantage of his offer, turning up the heating a notch, and then going upstairs. When I came back down shortly after, I found him still in the kitchen, looking around to see where plates and cutlery went.
"Leave them on the worktop," I told him, "I thought you might like to see how this looked when I was wearing it. You did not seem too impressed in the shop."
I slipped off the silky dressing gown I had put on, to reveal the pale green bra and briefs I had got earlier that day. His eyes lit up at the view. They certainly were almost see-through.
"Oh Marie," he breathed, walking over to me and hugging me, then walking with me to the living room. "You look... Wow! Words don't come close."
"I thought we could start off down here," I told him, taking a drink of my wine, "Anything you have always dreamed of, but never tried?"
He nodded. "Lots of things, sexy darling. I have had a rather boring sex life, I am afraid."
"Then here is your chance to start changing that." I said, "Now tell me, anything at all, don't be shy."
"Well, if it is alright," he almost whispered, "I always wanted a handcuffed girl on my knee."
He looked at me as though expecting laughter or horror. I smiled, walking over to the wall unit, and taking a pair of furry pink handcuffs out of the drawer.
"I have a girlfriend who enjoys that too." I told him, as I handed them to him, "The key is there, and don't be deceived by the fur, these are steel. Once in them, the key is the only way of getting them off."
He looked at me in amazement, suddenly speechless. I turned my back to him, wrists pushed towards him. After a few seconds, he clicked the cuffs into place, making sure they were not too tight, then stroked my barely-covered bum. I sat down sideways on his knee.
"Anything else, Oh, master?" I asked, playing the humble slave girl.
In lieu of a spoken reply, I was leant backwards, and kissed deeply, and very thoroughly. Once I was sitting upright again, he started exploring my body. At first, I could feel his hands trembling as they touched me, but soon he was gaining confidence, as I started squirming gently.
I twisted my head to one side, and he nibbled my neck, something that always arouses me, and I let out a soft moan, resulting in him repeating the action. Then a hand found my nipple, hardly hidden by the flimsy fabric, and firm fingers rolled it and squeezed, causing more squirming from me. His hand went to my bottom, cupping the cheek to hold me steady.
He squeezed my bottom, whispering, "Perfect. What I would give to spank that perfect peach?"
"John, you have an almost naked, handcuffed girl on your knee, with permission to do anything and everything you ever dreamed of," I whispered back to him, "if you want it, do it, darling.