Derby Dan's Dick - Sex Stories

Derby Dan's Dick

... years younger than his thirty made up for it.

“It turns out one of my housemates is having a day off,” he said once we were through the worst of the traffic, “so we’ll go to my Mum’s.”

“Oh, OK,” I replied, not really sure what else to say.

The next fifteen minutes passed in silence. I gazed out of the window, but my mind wandered elsewhere, so my memory of Derby itself has since blended in with that of dozens of other English towns. Only the click of the handbrake woke me from my reverie.

“We’re here,” Dan announced, looking furtively out each window before opening the door. “There's no one about, is there?”

“Here” was one of those bland, mass-produced, semi-detached houses found throughout the UK in some new outer suburb of Derby — blonde brick, white window frames, standardised dimensions — and I understood his paranoia about curtain-twitchers. I could sense the cream carpet even before he opened the door, punched in the code for the alarm, and let us inside. Instinctively kicking off my trainers, I had flashbacks to visiting friends’ houses in high school when I saw the door leading to a sitting room immediately to the right and the wood panelling of the kitchen straight ahead.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Some water would be fine, thanks.”

I hadn’t realised how dry my mouth was until his offer, nor that I had been shaking until I reached for the glass. If he didn’t notice the trickle that escaped my lips when I gulped down the first ...

... mouthful, he must have noticed my face reddening in embarrassment, but he didn’t let on, just pouring a glass for himself.

“So, what do you want to do?”

Ice slipped down my chest into my stomach. This was exactly what I didn't want him to ask. I was fine telling people my desires anonymously online, but saying them out loud? I took another sip of water before replying with a stuttered, “I th-think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” He laughed. “Should we start down here or go upstairs?”

“Probably best to go upstairs, I think.”

He nodded and took my glass. “We can use the spare room.”

Following his directions, I climbed the stairs, feeling him close behind me. Our destination reminded me of rented houses I’d stayed in on family holidays — pale blue walls, white door and window frames, neatly made bed, gauze privacy curtains, and, of course, the ubiquitous cream carpet. Having taken all that in, I turned and found myself facing the top of Dan’s chest inches from my face. His cologne filled my nostrils and I could taste mints on his breath as I met his questioning gaze, freezing momentarily.

My hesitation melted under his kiss, opening my mouth to meet his tongue with mine. His strong arms pulled us together, and I mimicked him, clawing at his back and squeezing his buttocks, the rustle of our hands over each other’s clothing becoming the only sounds in the room other than the occasional wet smack of our lips. He began pressing his groin into mine, and ...