Gay male photography art

“Morning!” I heard a cherry voice float over the back fence. A gate opened and a woman about 40 flashed a smile at me. I waved back. “Just cleaning up a little. With all gay male photography art this rain…” She stepped through the gate and I got a better look. Wow! She must be at least forty but her body was squeezed into tiny satin shorts and a halter. A black bra strap had slipped down over one shoulder. I could sense she knew I was looking her up and down and she didn’t mind. She stood there proudly, her sexy bod popping out of her clothes, smiling at me with a clear inviting look. “I’m Cherie” she said. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Phillip, well, call me Phil.” I must have stumbled over greetings and bumbled words and sentences when I talked to her because she had me totally transfixed. We made small talk about the weather gay male photography art and she noticed my knee support. “Oh, what happened to you?” I shrugged it off. “It’s just a little tender. A sports thing…” “Oh poor baby!” The way she said “baby” just made me melt. “It’s..ahhh..it’s nothing really.” “I do Shiatsu gay male photography art massage you know. I bet if you give me 20 minutes with that knee it’ll be as good as new.” I looked around at the garden. I still had a lot to do. I think she could tell I wanted to shout out a loud ‘yes please” and she came closer. I smelt her perfume. Mmmmm. She touched my elbow softly. “You finish up here and have a shower. Wear some loose clothes and just come through the back gate when you’re all ready.” I nodded dreamily. I couldn’t really say “no” to an invitation like that could I?

She touched my elbow again and sauntered back across gay male photography art the fence to her place. In about 20 minutes I had the small lawn done and the leaves raked up. I had clipped the edges and weeded and pruned the roses. I also had the boner to beat all boners as I stood in the shower and soaped and scrubbed myself. What was it about this woman that excited me more than gay male photography art all the other girls. I was really tempted to just jerk off right there but I stopped myself, turned the faucet to cold and gay male photography art finished up. “Loose Clothes” She’d said. I looked through my things and picked out a tracksuit and yep, why not, some silk boxers. I combed down my hair and threw the smoothest shave I could on my face. Some aftershave too. Why not, eh? It must have been forty minutes tops by the time I got to her back door. It was open and the smell of incense drifted out gay male photography art the door. There was a deeper smell too – the perfume that I had smelled on her before. I knocked nervously and she greeted me with a wine bottle in her hand. “Oh honey, you’re just in time. Be a doll and open this for me?” “Honey”? I thought. “Be a doll”? My heart was skipping beats. I was sure that I’d be fucking this woman as soon as the cork gay male photography art popped from the bottle. She sat me down gay male photography art in her living room and I fumbled with the cork screw. I finally got it off. It was old and crumbly. I looked at the label. 82. Practically as old as me. I looked around and saw a massage table set up in one corner of the room. Soft new agey music played. I normally hate that stuff but this time I just sunk down into the sofa beside her and let it flow over me. She was talking wine. “The tannins have softened. It’s just coming into it’s own. There’s that pluminess that I gay male photography art love in the Cabarnet.” I tried to listen to her. I wasn’t just trying to be polite I really loved the way she talked about the wine. Taking little sniffs and sips. Her pink tongue flushed with ruby red. When she uncrossed her legs to accept a top up I almost blew a load in my pants. Her shorts rode up in such a way that bulging pussy lip peered out from the thin strand of denim covering the crotch. It was hairless and red.