Man About The House

The wood-lined avenue on the far outskirts of the city seemed almost deserted as I pulled in and parked. I'd already got out of the car and was reaching back in to retrieve the black jacket which formed the upper half of my suit, when I heard a voice behind me.

"Are you the man about the house?"

I looked around to see him. He was standing on the steps leading up to the unkempt front garden.

I nodded, pulling my jacket on against the crisp October evening. "Yeah, well... sort of. There's two of us."

He looked down at the clipboard he was carrying.

I glanced along the street at some of the parked cars, trying to spot a white Polo. "It doesn't look like Melissa has arrived yet..."

He seemed confused. "Melissa?"

"My girlfriend."

"Oh right". He made a face at himself like he was being stupid and then flashed me a smile. It had a frankness and warmth that I found, even in those first few moments of knowing him, surprisingly attractive.

He glanced down at his notes again and asked, "That wouldn't be Melissa Clarke would it?"

I said, "Yeah..."

He smiled again. It really was captivating. He was a handsome guy, probably in his mid-twenties like me. Tall and slim with short dark brown hair: just the right body to carry a smile like that.

He explained, "I had her down as a later appointment for some reason... I didn't realise you were coming together..."

"Well, that was the plan. We were supposed to meet you here at six."

"Not to worry," he said. "Someone in the office must have screwed up..."

I locked the car and he suggested that we go in and take a quick look around while we waited for Melissa.

Then, as he opened the gate for me, he said, "You must be Dr Wallace, right?"

I nodded and he grinned. "I was expecting an older guy. Grey hair and a beard..."

I smiled. I found myself hoping that he found my smile as pleasant as I found his.

"We're getting younger and younger," I joked. "Straight from highschool into the surgery - or so my mother reckons."

He beamed at me again. "Actually, since you're a doctor you might want to take a look at my back... I've been having a few problems."

I guess he saw my face crease with irritation because he laughed. Like his smile, it seemed spontaneous and unaffected.

He went on, "Sorry - that was just a joke... I couldn't resist it. I bet you get people saying stuff like that all the time."

I tried to dispel the annoyance I'd felt from hearing the line I must have heard a hundred times since starting my medical training. I forced a smile.

He unlocked the front door of the house and went on, "I get it myself, to some extent. I tell people I'm an estate agent and they want their house valued. Doesn't matter if I've never seen it, they think a monotonous elaborate description will do..."

I said, "It's when people start telling me full details of their bladder infections or varicose veins that I really warm to them. Elderly aunts have a particular talent for it..."

He laughed again. We didn't speak for a few seconds as he cleared the unopened post away from inside the doorway and I followed him in.

He said, "I'm Nathan, by the way. Nathan Blackmore."

"And I'm Sebastian."

He said, with a smirk, "I kind of prefer 'Dr Wallace'." His tone was surprisingly mischievous.

I grinned back and said, my voice equally suggestive, "I bet you do..."

He giggled and I thought, "I like this guy..."

He walked halfway down the hallway to the foot of the stairs. A couple of doors led off from his right and left. He said, "So where do you want to get started... upstairs or down...?"

He couldn't stop himself from smiling slightly and I grinned at him. I said, "I'm in your hands, Nathan..." and raised my eyebrows salaciously.

He nodded, still smiling at me. I was starting to wish Melissa wasn't coming. I couldn't work out if he would be up for anything more than flirting, but it seemed very possible.

He said, "In that case, how about looking at the kitchen?"

"Sounds good to me."

He turned and walked to the end of the hallway where it led into a room to the right. He was, like me, wearing a dark suit, but his had quite a tight cut and showed his arse off very nicely. It looked round and firm inside his charcoal grey trousers and the flap at the back of his jacket was raised up over the bulge it made.

My interest in him increased. While girls are probably more my thing, an attractive guy can also have an appeal. In fact, as a one-off, a guy is probably preferable: men seem far more comfortable with the idea of pleasure without strings.

I followed him down the hall and into the kitchen at the end of it.

The room was light and airy, but the units and the sink would need replacing fairly urgently. But, then, we'd expected that it would need a lot of work doing to it when we'd arranged to view the place: it was why the house was so cheap despite it's generous size and quiet location.

He said, "It's a good size for a kitchen, but would obviously need some attention..."

I looked around and muttered, "I can give plenty of attention where it's needed."

I casually glanced at his face as I took in the room. He was staring at me, that same half-smile on his face.

He said, "What about your girlfriend?"

I turned to face him. We were almost exactly the same height. "What about her?"

He threw me another of his killer grins. His eyes were alive with amusement and excitement. I loved seeing him like this: getting turned on by my insinuations. 

He asked, "Would she approve?"

"... Of?"

"Well... of having you tied up giving attention where it's needed... doesn't she want you for herself?"

I had to chuckle. "I dunno. I don't think she suspects..."

"Suspects?"

"... how good I am at handling tools."

He laughed and I did.

I said, "I mean there were a couple of occasions when I think it was kind of obvious, but she's never acknowledged it and neither have I..."

He nodded slowly, maintaining his smile and staring intently at my face as if trying to discern my meaning from it. I remained impassive. Pleasant but ambiguous.

After a few seconds he asked, "Do you want to take a look at the garden and the shed?"

"Sounds pretty cool."

He struggled to find the key to the back door and I realised, from the slight shaking of his hand, that he was as attracted to me as I was to him.

When he'd opened the door and we'd walked outside he asked, "You're pretty versatile, then?"

"Oh... absolutely. A jack of all trades."

We walked down the weedy narrow garden to the wooden shed at the bottom of it. It was starting to get dark and the cold air smelt of distant bonfires.

As he opened the shed door, he asked, "Which trade do you prefer?"

"Each has its own advantages and disadvantages... it's difficult to say."

He stared at me again, his eyes steadfast on mine, and then we went inside the shed. The air inside was heavy with the smell of creosote and dry soil. The evening light coming through the dirty cracked window was pretty dim but not so dim that we couldn't see each other.

He muttered, "I think there's a lamp plugged in down here..."

I started to tell him it was okay, but he was already bending over to find the switch underneath the worktop. As he groped around for it, his jacket rode up revealing his arse pressing tightly against the material of his trousers.

Even in the dim light I could see the outline of the hems of his underwear, a small tight pair of briefs by the look of them, making ridges against the twinned peaches of his buttocks. The hems made a chevron-shape pointing downwards on his arse. Like an arrow directing ones thoughts down to the warm, moist hole that was less than an inch beneath the dark grey cotton of the seat of his trousers.

He found the switch and bent further forwards to press it. His arse cheeks opened slightly and strained even more against the thin material. I wanted to bury my face into it; to smell the musky odour of his arse, to inhale the sweaty, anal smells of the seat of his trousers, his cotton of his briefs and the warmth of his arse cleft.

My cock rose stiffened rapidly in response to my musings. I guess it must have been pointing downwards inside my own underwear because it struggled painfully to rise upwards against their confines.

The light above us clicked on and, still bending, he turned his face towards me. "Success!"

I looked at his face and saw from his smile that he'd seen me staring at his backside.

Then he stood up and turned to face me.

He asked, glancing around at the shed to obscure his meaning, "Do you like what you see?"

I nodded. "Without a doubt."

He said, "It's different to what you're used to...?"

"But the effect is the same."

I opened my jacket and he looked down at my crotch. My restricted cock made an obvious mound between my fly and my right pocket. Even though it was mostly hard, it was being forced downwards by my the material of my briefs and so it's shape was that of a thick, prominent, downwardly-curving rod. Kind of like a banana in the front of my trousers.

I asked him, "Do you like what you see, Nathan?"

He giggled again. "Yeah! I mean, it looks a bit cramped..."

Even though he was looking at my crotch I guess he could still have been talking about the shed. Both it and my briefs seemed a bit confined right then.

"Maybe you could sort something out for me...?"

He looked into my eyes again. His were a deep, dark blue. His face became serious and he searched my face for some kind of clue. Was I asking him to look into having the seller lower the price because of the size of the shed? I could see him wondering, could almost feel the uncertainty clouding his mind.

He muttered, "I dunno..."

I realised he was thinking that, if he reached out for my dick and it turned out that he'd misinterpreted what had been innocent remarks, he'd be in danger of being beaten up and maybe even losing his job. I had all the best cards in my hand: it wasn't fair of me to expect him to make the first move.