BRIAN'S POV

By the time Justin got home that afternoon, you'd texted him to check his email. In his email were a few instructions:

You're to have dinner ready for me when I get home about 5:30. You need to have already eaten, showered, and dressed in the appropriate attire by 5:00. I want your half of the kitchen table completely cleared off. I expect you to meet me at the door.

He didn't respond. You jerked off in your private bathroom.

~*~*~*~

He was waiting for you at five thirty just like you asked. He was dressed in brand new gray cotton pants and a brand new white t-shirt; his feet were bare and undoubtedly cold. Your dinner was waiting just like you requested. It was a salad and a glass of wine. He took your briefcase, set it down in the foyer and came right back. You hugged him and ran your fingers through his hair; he smelled wonderful.

His end of the table was completely cleared off. You released him and urged him in that direction. You raised your eyebrow, and he turned and bent over the table for you. You sat down in a chair and slid one arm underneath his chest, holding him still while you pulled his pants down. He kicked them across the kitchen floor. His fingers dug into your arm when he saw you reach and pull a wooden spoon out of a crock on the island behind your head.

The episode lasted much longer than he expected.

He turned and looked away from you when you let go of him and let your hand wander below the table to feel how hard he was. "Do you want to come?" you asked him, and he nodded, still staring into the laundry room. Go sit in the corner and face the wall," you told him, "On your knees." After retrieving a shot glass from the cabinet, you walked over to him, bent down and put the glass on the floor in front of him. Then you went and sat down to enjoy your dinner, the wine, and the sight of his red bottom perched on his bare feet. His knees spread and he leaned his forehead against the wall while he masturbated for you.

"Done?" you asked him when you knew he was.

"Yes."

"Then come here."

He got up and walked over to you sitting his cum-filled glass on the table. You pushed your chair back and extended your arm so he'd sit in your lap. You finished your meal with his head on your shoulder. "I missed you today," he whispered.

"It was bad, huh?"

"Terrible."

"You think tomorrow will be better?" you asked him.

He sighed, "No way."

When dinner was done and cleaned up, there was no talk about what to do next. You adjourned to your bedroom, the house bathed in darkness soon after. He rode you forever; you fell asleep underneath him. The following morning, you kept to your routine. You got up and got in the shower; he got coffee and brought it upstairs for you. You got dressed, and he blew you in your office. He got back into bed where you kissed him good-bye. On your way through the kitchen to the garage, you stopped to put your mug in the sink and to notice that there was a red ribbon tied in a bow around the wooden spoons.