Jeans Gift

It was a chilly, blustery fall afternoon and Jon was in a hurry. The cloudless blue sky could be seen between the canyon walls of the skyscrapers lining Wall Street. He pushed against the wave of pedestrians walking toward him like a swimmer fighting against a riptide. He stepped forward, determinedly into the path of people doing the same dance of evasion coming against him from the opposite direction. Pushing along through the sea of rush hour walkers, Jon was jostled, bumped shoulder against shoulder as he made his way forward - up the street toward his goal: the jewelry store. The wide sidewalks of New York's city streets couldn't accommodate the sea of people flowing in both directions. Some people stepped into his path mumbling a gentle warning: 'excuse me, coming through!' Others bumped into him with a polite hand to the shoulder or elbow, helping to deflect an unintentional, albeit direct, body blow. He appeared to be one of the few moving north on the street, everyone else was stomping along from the opposite direction - blocking his forward progress.

His mind was elsewhere. He was concentrating on the finishing touches for a special birthday celebration for Jean. The venue, the menu - everything else was coming together, but Jon had not yet selected an appropriate gift for his partner. Jean was hard to shop for - she had exquisite taste in all things, but she had no material wants and Jon had been struggling to find that absolutely perfect gift for her. He automatically blunted the onslaught of body blows from strangers coming against him as he struggled along the sidewalk, his mind focused on the matter at hand: getting to the jeweler for the appropriate gift.

He recognized the building's façade a short distance ahead. As he drew nearer he started to push across the path of oncoming pedestrians, purposefully from the curb side of the sidewalk diagonally. As he stepped in front of a nattily dressed man in a single breasted charcoal gray cashmere sport jacket, the man barreled into Jon without pause and physically spun him from the force of their collision. Both men uttered the same sound - 'ommph' - and each instinctively grabbed at his opposite to steady the other man from the impact. The man's head had been cast down and his eyes hidden behind a pair of darkly tinted wrap around glasses.

'Sorry! So sorry!' An apology muttered by the assailant (as Jon immediately thought of him) as the man gripped Jon by his upper arms. The grasp was firm and reassuring. It had the intimate feel of a dancer seductively pulling his partner close against his torso. Only then, in the aftermath of the moment's awkward dance step on the sidewalk, did the stranger raise his head and look at Jon who seemed momentarily dazed. He hadn't anticipated the forceful body blow and was surprised to momentarily stagger from it. The stranger quickly took off his sun glasses to continue the apology eye-to-eye:

'You okay? I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking.' As he said the words he looked closely into Jon's face - the man's eyes flickered with recognition... The two men made eye contact.

Jon had been momentarily stunned by the blow and did not respond. But he did look carefully into the stranger's face and acknowledged the other man's reaction with a sudden jerk of his head. They knew each other.

Jon was shocked. The two men stood, each continuing to hold his opposite in the grip of a steadying hand at the elbow. It had become an almost intimate embrace between the two men. The sea of humanity still pouring down the street washed around them without pause, bumping and pushing at them to get out of the way.

"Jon? Jon, is that you? Can't be! My God!"

Jon was surprised, after so many years. He recognized the voice, a little more graveled with age, but it was Don - he was sure of it. Jon wanted to examine the man's face more closely before he spoke, but knew that would be rude. So many years had passed.

The momentary silence was getting to be overlong. It was either awkward or insulting; both men were suddenly uncomfortable. Jon broke it,

"'Don, how the hell are you? My God it's been years! Let's get out of the crush and get a drink, catch up after all this time." Jon's brain was working in overdrive as memories flooding over him. They weren't unpleasant, just unexpected. In fact, he realized a slight stirring in his cock as his memory flashed back to some wonderful shared sexual experiences.

"I'd love to... but you seem...um... pre-occupied..." Don was not getting positive vibes for a reunion, 'maybe you'd rather another time.' Don had the barest hint of disappointment in the inflection of his voice.

"No, no! I am just so surprised to run into you, Don! I am headed to Tiffany." Jon thumbed with his hand gesturing in the general direction of the store, "Looking for just the perfect gift for Jean's birthday." Jon looked suddenly embarrassed at his rude behavior.

"Come help me pick out something exquisitely special for Jean, and then we'll go have that drink and catch up. It's been years! I can't believe we literally bumped into each other on the street in New York of all places. Small world isn't it?"

Don smiled at his long lost friend. "Yes, it certainly is a small world, but I'm delighted. Of course I'll help you find something appropriate for the lovely Jean."

The two men walked out of the maelstrom of pedestrians into the refined, quiet elegance of the iconic jewelry store.

The store was decorated in its cheerful robin's egg blue trademark color which provided an elegant backdrop for the dazzling diamonds and other colorful precious gems in all manner of settings: rings, bracelets and pins as well as shiny gold and silver pieces for the discriminating woman. The two men walked around the display cases admiring the baubles.

"Did you ever make an honest woman of Jean? There's a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring - why don't you go for it." Don had a smirk on his face, not carefully hidden.

"Jean and I have been together a long time. We don't need a piece of paper, or a piece of jewelry, to assure our commitment to each other." Jon was annoyed with the unexpected turn the conversation had taken.

"Now, don't get your knickers in a bunch - I'm just kidding with you. I am surprised though, that after all these years together you've never tied the knot." Don turned away and walked around the display case to the opposite side away from Jon.

"After all, you two are well experienced in... ah... tying knots." He tossed the remark over his shoulder, just above a whisper in the hushed atmosphere of the luxurious store. Don could have meant any one of several things with the statement.

Jon's head popped up from peering into the display case and glared at Don but he did not reprimand the man for the inappropriate comment in their current surroundings. Suddenly he said,

"Let's get out of here... go have that drink and I'll shop for something for Jean tomorrow."

"When is your party?" As Don asked the question he recognized a fleeting annoyance on Jon's face. "Relax - I'm not angling for an invite. I've just had a brilliant idea for a perfect gift, even if I do say so myself. Let's go get that drink and I'll explain it." Don had suddenly become very animated, like a kid with a secret he could barely keep to himself.

Jon wasn't sure that it was a good idea to deviate from his original plan, but he realized that it would be difficult to shop for Jean with Don in tow. So he suggested his club, just around the corner.

The two men stepped back out onto the street. In those few minutes since they had entered the store the pedestrian traffic had thinned. It was a quick walk to The Setai Club in the heart of the financial district. Just entering the hushed environment relaxed Jon's nerves. He realized his shoulders were tense; his whole body was wrapped tightly like an over-wound spring - ready to unravel.

The two men settled into a quiet corner of the club and Jon ordered a bottle of mineral water. He was not about to allow himself to become muddled in the head during this conversation. Don seemed mildly surprised and a little put off that he wasn't offered a drink, but decided to play along. After all, it was a just a quick drink to catch up after all these years, since their first encounter in Washington many years earlier.

The awkwardness of their conversation was evident, even to the waiter attending them. A quick recitation of the usual questions asked and answered: health, career, marital status... it all seemed superficial.

Finally, Jon had had quite enough - he really didn't want to waste any more time on this reunion. "So, Don, it was nice to see you and catch up a bit, but I really need to get going. Jean will be returning from a business trip late this evening and I've got some additional errands to run and, well you know - things to do."

"I understand completely, Jon. Sure was nice to run into you and have a chance to catch up a bit. Wish we could have a reunion - the three of us - those were fun times!" The remark was said with a certain wistfulness in Don's tone of voice.

Jon was busy signing the bill and threw off matter-a-factly, "Yeah, good times. You were a quick learner and proved to be more than capable of satisfying both Jean and me." It was a compliment.

Don looked at the man who had introduced him to the pleasurable experiences of sex with another man and sighed. "Yeah, I miss that. I've thought about it many times over the years, but never had the nerve... you, and Jean... well it sure would be nice to have a reunion." He left the thought hanging in the air.

Jon wasn't listening carefully and absently tossed off, "Yes, it sure would be," as he stood up and readied for his departure, extending his hand formally as a firm farewell to Don.

"Jon, it was really great to run into you - literally." Don chuckled at his own cleverness. Wish we could meet again, like the old days. God, you both taught me so much about the pleasures of... ah... "

"Well, we'll see." After he threw off that idle phrase in response to Don's remark, Jon suddenly realized what the man was hinting at. In fact, it seemed Don was almost pleading for another rendezvous. Inexplicably Jon felt sorry for the man. "I'll talk with Jean and we'll set something up with you. Give me your mobile number and I'll ring you." It wasn't really a brush-off, but it sure felt that way to Don.

He did however, rattle off his number and Jon appeared to be entering it in his contacts list. They said their good-byes and joined in a robust 'hail fellow well met' bear-hug as they separated on the street outside the entrance to the club.

The next several days were frightfully busy with the plans for Jean's birthday celebration and Jon didn't give Don much thought. If fact, he didn't mention his brief encounter on the street somehow believing it would raise a question in Jean's mind why he was standing outside Tiffany. She didn't expect any baubles from him to celebrate her birthday.

The party wasn't to be a surprise. It couldn't have been, given Jean's business travel schedule. Besides Jon felt putting the guest of honor at a disadvantage with an unknown, off-schedule event in her honor was just plain rude. Jean was not that kind of person: she was scripted and wanted events, personal and business, planned, coordinated and executed flawlessly. No 'surprise' party for her. The one stipulation to the invited guests was: no gifts!

It was to be an intimate dinner for a tight circle of friends and a few business associates - about two dozen guests gathered in their apartment. Every detail for the evening had been arranged and exquisitely handled by Jean's favorite event planner. He had access to the apartment early in the afternoon to begin the set-ups and food preparation.

Jean arrived home shortly after five o'clock, having left the office a bit earlier than was her custom. Jon was not home.

"Madam, a package was delivered by the concierge a short while ago. It is quite large, so we placed it in the master suite, out of the way. I hope that was correct." The caterer was slightly annoyed to have had to run interference as the delivery boy, but hid it well - his gratuity at the end of the evening would depend upon extreme graciousness to his clients, and their guests.

She acknowledged the decision and headed toward her bedroom suite to see what had been delivered. Her assumption was that one of the guests had discreetly sent a gift despite the prohibition.

Jean closed the door to her bedroom suite and eyed the mysterious gift box from across the room. She was quite surprised to discover the box was huge, so much so that it sat on the floor of her bedroom. As she began to absentmindedly strip out of her suit jacket and skirt she considered the possibilities of the gift. Standing in a lacy black bra and panties she slowly approached the package. It was wrapped in pale blue, almost the color of the ubiquitous Tiffany signature hue. Jean was immediately curious - it was about the size of an appliance box - perhaps one used for shipping a wine refrigerator. There didn't appear to be a card or note of any kind attached to the outside of the box - had it been lost in transit? Would the gift card be inside the box? She gently moved the package with the palm of her hand. It was heavy it didn't give way to her slight touch, so she attempted to rock it a bit with both hands. The package was dead weight. Something very heavy was inside.

Jean slipped out of her shiny black stilettos assuming that she would gain better purchase if her feet were firmly on the floor. Still no movement gave way to the rocking motion she applied. She wondered how the men had placed the package in her bedroom, but then looking around the floor near the package she noticed the wheel tread-marks on the carpeting. No one lifted this package it was wheeled in on a dolly.

"What the...?" She wondered if this was some prank of Jon's. Seemed unlikely, but he was always clever and creative when it came to surprising her with unique gifts.

Finding a pair of small scissors on her dressing table, Jean set about cutting away the wrapping paper and quickly came down to a heavy cardboard box underneath. It did indeed look like heavy weight, reinforced cardboard packaging for a kitchen appliance. Her short blade scissors wouldn't cut through the thick material or sealing tape. She took a quick step over to her writing desk for a much stronger utensil for cutting and prying open the mysterious package.

Jean worked along a box seam at the top that had been sealed with clear tape as it finally gave way to the sharp edge. There seemed to be a certain warmth, stuffy hot air - the spicy scent of cologne - released from the box as she undid the box flaps. Lots of lipstick-red tissue paper was stuffed inside, but Jean's mind worked over the contrast of the weightlessness of tissue paper and the heaviness of the package. She finally released the flaps and hesitated for just a moment before plunging her hands inside the box to feel around for its contents.

She touched warm skin.

Jean withdrew her hand in a flash of fear and revulsion. A body! Someone had shipped a dead body to her! A yelp of fear escaped her mouth in an exhalation of breath which had caught in her throat when she first touched it.

The box started to rock slightly and the tissue paper inside crinkled as it was moved around and was pushed aside. Suddenly there were two hands attached to long arms wiggling up from within. The hands braced on the side of the box and the rest of a naked man unfolded from a crouched position to emerge from within. The face was wearing a black feathered mask - like something worn for Halloween or New Year's Eve festivities. Jean didn't recognize the man's head - except to note he was partially bald with a fringe of salt and pepper hair. Her eyes cast down further along the man's trim torso immediately noting the enormous, fully erect cock. Jean was speechless. Then she noticed the small card, tied to his cock at its base near his beautiful, smooth balls.

Jean reached for the card tentatively. This gift couldn't possibly be from Jon, but who? She slipped her hand carefully along the man's shaft - knuckles brushing against his balls and fingers slightly stroking his cock as she turned the card over to read it:

"Happy Birthday Jean! Let's Celebrate!"

The always 'in control' Jean found herself rattled. Not only was this gift unusual, but she was doubtful that the elaborate presentation just hours before her birthday bash had been the brainchild of Jon.

"Who are you? What is going on here?" Jean wasn't frightened, as much as perplexed. She knew she could summon help quickly, even if Jon wasn't close at hand. Where was he? If this was his idea of a joke, or kinky gift, he would have been nearby to enjoy her reaction. It just seemed out of character for her mate - at least on a day like this one. Maybe he was trying to spark some new funky sexuality into their relationship - even after so many years together, Jon and Jean continually tried to find uniquely new sexual pleasures for each other.

The nude stranger slowly raised his left hand and reached out to run his index finger along the top edge of Jean's lacey bra cup. He slid his finger tantalizingly into her cleavage and then further inside the cup extending his finger down to rub it over her nipple. The areola puckered immediately at his stroking.

Jean stood motionless. Her eyes were transfixed on the eyes just visible through the slits of the feathered mask. She had the feeling she knew this man - there was a familiarity... Seductively he reached for her with both his hands pulling Jean into his chest. He enveloped her with his strong arms stroking her back, slowly slipping his hands down into her panties and squeezing her ass cheeks as if they were melons ripe for the testing. While she was momentarily distracted by his hands, he leaned into Jean's face and stuck his mouth on hers pushing his tongue quick and deep toward the far back of her throat. She did not resist.

Jean was dumbstruck, but very aroused. The stranger was tall and long-legged; he gracefully raised a leg and stepped over the edge of the box first with a one nimble leg then the other, freeing himself from his confinement. He hadn't released Jean, just gripped her ass-cheeks tighter while he steadied his transition. Once free, the man was able to make good use of his height to smother her with his body while unclipping her brassiere and bending to lick and suck her nipples and flick his tongue to arouse her further. She didn't resist but moaned with arousal.

The stranger guided her over to the bed and after hesitating momentarily Jean slithered out of her panties and he lay on top of her rubbing her body against his in a fierce rhythm of wanton desire. Her hands went toward his face to pull away the mask - she wanted to see the man who was about to fuck her.

The masked man pulled his head away and deflected her hand with one of his.

Jean's sexual excitement was momentarily abated - she was fucking a stranger. His mysterious appearance was erotic even sensual but she assumed he was someone she knew... and yet. His eyes crinkled in amusement at the corners as he spoke for the first time in a graveled voice,

"You don't recognize me, Jean? I think my feelings are hurt!" There was a chuckle in his voice.

Jean did think she knew him, but from where? Maybe it had been a long time ago, sometime in the distant past, but there was something familiar about him.

The mysterious lover gave Jean a gentle kiss on both nipples as he positioned her hips under him and held them in place on the bed. He slowly drove his engorged cock deep into her - rhythmically moving inside her finding just the right spot; she was close to coming, but he held himself in abeyance so she couldn't reach release. Not yet.