Even though Toby and I were fully confident Mr. Doherty was deviously playing matchmaker with us, it didn't stop our play from turning to actual panic when, across the house, we heard the familiar sound of keys rattling. Conveniently, after a few hours of rollicking about I was still somehow free of wearing spandex gear—Toby liked to hold it against me after I told him he was experiencing my fantasy—but unfortunately, I was still very much nude and unprepared to stall the old man. It took grabbing my clothes, shucking on only the essentials (the shirt and my shorts, thus commando) and bursting out into Mr. Doherty's hall to stave him off at the front door. In the moment, I desperately will my heartbeat to settle down and for my demeanor to relax for the sake of avoiding suspicion, but I'm not sure I'm successful.
"Sir!" I say gladly when he shuts the door. The sunlight pouring in through the clouded glass pane illuminates his surprised smile, and I dutifully return the grin.
"Why, Charles," he says, pulling his keys out of the lock. I'm not certain how many times I've mentioned I go by
Charlie
in our previous chats, but his stubborn formality is almost endearing. He gives me a once-over that I find concerning. "Are you alright, son? You look a bit out of breath."
"I only wanted to meet you out here is all. I thought I ought to tell you your cats are doing great." As if on cue, a long-haired creature sneaks up behind me and hops on the side table by the door. Doherty drops his keys in an adjacent crystal bowl and gets to affectionately petting it.
"Were they any trouble?" he asks innocently.
"They were practically invisible. This one—" I start, and legitimately evaluate it for a second. "I actually think is the one I didn't see at all last night." Mr. Doherty's gaze stays fixed on his pet but there's a slight change behind the eyes.
"Then what, may I ask, did you and you friend manage to occupy your time?" he poses, and looks right at me. He's just barely taller than me, this man who I estimate must be in his later fifties. This right here is Doherty's evaluation, I'm sure: to see if we're the nosy perverts he wanted us to be. Or, alternatively, he's actually suspicious of our activity and not pleased with my body language or defensiveness. Really, I'm just buying Toby time to undress and replace all the gear to where we found it. Without a word, and I'm surprised at the speed with which he does this, Mr. Doherty slips past me and heads into the hall where his bedroom door remains closed at the opposite end.
"Mr. Doherty! How was your trip by the way? Did you manage to—" I say, following nervously behind him, trying to convince him to turn around. But he's stormed through the door and I'm right there behind him. I gasp.
Toby is standing there, his back to us, wearing only the blue wet-look zentai with the hood off. He can't reach the lower zipper inconveniently at the middle of his back; both of his hands are reaching but fail to grab it. The rest of his things—and what I tried on, too—lays haphazardly on the floor underfoot for Doherty to see. Toby turns around to spot us with a look of dismay and then his eyes widen in shock, followed by guilt. I can't see Mr. Doherty's face, but my own expression is all cringe.
"You boys are very mischievous, aren't you?" Doherty asks coyly, and Toby fully turns around to give the older man a very apologetic look. But it's hard to be apologetic when you're body is on full display.
"All you had to do was pull down the shoulders, buddy," I sigh, and Mr. Doherty chuckles to himself. That's a good reaction, I think, but he doesn't seem all happiness and rainbows. He walks further in the room.
"Get undressed, and put all these clothes in the hamper over there," he instructs Toby. He points to a wicker basket at the corner of the room. "And you too, boy. That cock of yours is looking at me funny," he says to me. I look down and assess myself with embarrassment, observing that I'm rock hard, the waistband of my shorts rippled just so. Toby starts first by picking up all our things and gives me a mixed look of both apprehension and interest. I put out my hands and he drops the pile of material just there.
"
Get undressed
," I mouth to him while Doherty is looking curiously into his own closet. Toby glances at the man and raises his eyebrows with that signature resignation, very attractive. He then brings his shoulders together and pulls the material off his chest. "That seem easy enough to you?" I cajole quietly.
"I'm new to this! Okay?" he whispers emphatically, and I roll my eyes as he gets fully naked and throws the zentai on top of my pile. I take the clothes dutifully to the hamper and drop them in, then less dutifully take my time getting naked as well. When Doherty's done checking out his closet, I've already rejoined Toby in my birthday suit, and the old man instructs us to stand side by side. He smiles at our erect cocks, playfully bats each one once and lets them wobble back and forth, like he's window shopping.
"I had my doubts about you two, but you seem eager, don't you?" he asks, but it doesn't seem like a question. After a beat of silence, I open my mouth to say something, but he speaks first. "I don't need to hear from you, young man, I already know everything that I need to." He's not particularly curt or militaristic in style, instead opting for an authoritative but respectful tone. He grins at me then turns to Toby.
"But please, you, tell me how your evening went," he asks, and Toby cutely looks at the ceiling to remember as if it were years ago.
"Umm... I think I had some kind of sexual awakening," Toby says jokingly, being honest for a bit of comedy. Doherty's expression turns into surprise, eyebrows raised.
"Is that true? Charles got to the door quite fast," he says, turning briefly to regard me. "Were you, by chance, wearing all those clothes I saw on my floor?" Toby looks to the ceiling again, coy in his own right, very innocent.
"Yes, that was me, sir."
"I like that: sir."
"I
