(This follows on from Gap Year Experience Pt. 02, so might be worth your reading that before reading this)
Following that first "date" after our tennis match I returned home as Andrew had another engagement that afternoon.
He was also busy on Sunday so the next time I saw him was at work. As he was a fairly senior figure, in overall charge of our sponsorship programme, I didn't get any real chance to spend time alone with him, and our interactions were entirely professional, giving no hint to any observer that we knew each other any more than any of the other students. I imagine this was by design as, presumably, he was violating all sorts of corporate rules by having sexual relations with one of the students - male or female.
In fact with hindsight the whole thing was somewhat morally dubious, but I genuinely didn't even think about that at the time, I didn't feel coerced and I certainly didn't think that there was any link between my job and career progression and my relationship with Andrew. (Later in my academic, and indeed professional, career I would go on to have sex with authority figures for much more mercenary reasons, but that is another story and we are jumping ahead...).
I was, sexually, extremely frustrated, having been given my first taste of actual real live sex for the first time, I wanted it more and more. I confess that I masturbated incessantly that week, reliving the experience of the previous Saturday.
I would imagine what Andrew might do to me by way of punishment, and I have to say that I was even a bit surprised at how far some of my ideas went!
I experimented with whipping myself with a belt, and also used a candle as an improvised dildo in my arse, imagining Andrew's strong cock forcing its way in there. Violating me.
On Friday after having no meaningful contact with Andrew all week I found a typewritten note in my messages folder (this was pre internet) that simply said "Tennis tomorrow? Meet at my house. No need to bring a racquet." The note was unsigned - anonymous and deniable - but there was no doubt who it was from. I immediately felt butterflies in my stomach and a rush of blood to my cock.
The "no need to bring a racquet" made me smile. Clearly he was signalling to me that there wasn't going to be very much, if any, actual tennis involved tomorrow, but could equally be interpreted, to anyone else, innocently, as his willingness to lend me a racquet.
I was excited that night, but also nervous. Unusually, I didn't masturbate, saving myself for the next day.
I arrived at his house the following lunch time, dressed in my tennis gear, as required for a tennis date. I knocked at the door and Andrew answered, dressed in casual slacks and an open neck shirt "Good morning" he smiled. "Come in."
His house was very normal. Quite old. Some heavy exposed beams. No sign of "gay taste". Several bookshelves, but nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing sexual on display. One of the bookcases was locked and I was later to learn that it contained quite a collection of erotic literature, "artistic" photographic books by the likes of Robert Mapplethorpe (of whom I had not, at that point, ever heard) and straightforward pornography much of it focussed on young men (of, I am pleased to report, respectable and legal age) being dominated by older ones.
He served a simple lunch of fish and salad, accompanied by a glass or two of white wine. I suspect, with hindsight, that the wine was pretty average, but at the time I thought it delicious, and very sophisticated.
We chatted about generalities before the conversation inevitably came around to sex. He asked me about my fantasies; what I usually fantasised about when I masturbated. I was pretty taken aback, but he persisted "For example, which actors or actresses do you fancy?"
I confessed to having a crush on a few famous actresses, including a couple of the classic English upper middle class type, one American and one Australian. Also, appropriately, a couple of female tennis players.
"What about actors?"
"No not really. It has never really occurred to me."
He looked slightly disappointed.
"What about boys and girls at school?".
Here he was on more fertile ground as I had been at an all boys school and confessed to a few unrequited crushes on class mates, the details of which I will not go into here.
We talked about the other students on my current course. Which of the guys we thought might be gay or bi. We agreed that one in particular, a studious slightly nerdy, but quite cute, guy called Timothy was a likely candidate.
He assured me that I was the best looking guy on the course, and that most of the girls and some of the guys would be masturbating about me each night. I didn't really believe it, but it turned me on to hear it.
I had certainly given a lot more thought to the guys on the course over the past week since Andrew had first seduced me. I had started to look at the guys in a new, sexual, light. I was doing a certain amout of "crotch-watching" and mentally undressing some of them.
There were two I found quite attractive. One was cool, dark and brooding looking. I thought he was sexy, but he had already seduced and paired-off with one of the girls on the course, so I didn't think there was much opportunity there.
Timothy, on the other hand, had not appeared to show any interest in the girls, or vice versa, and I had started to entertain the possibility - encouraged by discussion with Andrew - that he might be gay or at least bi. I had fantasised about being in bed with him a number of times, and the things we might do in that situation. But in reality I had to confess that the person I had fantasised about most over the past week was Andrew, to which he responded "Good, that is very good."
(As an aside, readers might think that somehow Andrew was "bad" for turning an impressionable 19 year old "gay". I don't think like that at all. Apart from disagreeing with the basic premise that it is somehow "bad" to be gay, Andrew didn't turn me gay. He was just the first person who offered me an outlet for a part of my sexuality that had always been there, and indeed always would be there. I am grateful for that because it opened up many amazing experiences, with some amazing men (and some bastards too!) over the years. I wonder how many of these I would have missed if Andrew hadn't taken the initiative to seduce me, so for that I will always be grateful).
After a while of this sort of flirtatious chitchat he suddenly said "Although you look very sexy in your tennis gear, I'd like you to take it off now."
I wasn't quite sure I had heard correctly as it seemed to be a bit of a non sequitur.
"I am sorry?"
"I said you can take off your tennis gear. As I am sure you can guess we aren't actually going to be playing tennis today."
"No but..."
"So you don't need to wear your tennis clothes. Whilst you are here I want you naked."
"What?"
"Or you can go home now. I want you naked so I can enjoy your body. But if you don't want to you don't have to stay."
I was slightly shocked at this idea, but immensely turned on.
" Ok." I said, rather hesitantly, and began, equally hesitantly to take off my shirt, tennis shoes and shorts.
I stopped and looked at him questioningly, as I stood there in my underpants.
"Yes, those too. Your body needs no adornment and I want to be able to see it. The house is very private and no one will see you except me."
It was an odd situation. I didn't really imagine that anyone would have any reason to find me physically attractive, so when someone, a sort of authority figure, tells me he wants me naked so he can admire my beautiful body it is a bit of a head fuck. I removed my underpants and stood there naked for him to examine me.
He sat in an upright kitchen chair.
