Philip Ch. 01

Part 1 | The beginnings

Philip was the boyfriend of a friend I had known for years. Thinking back, I suppose the seed of all that happened later was planted when he and Bart were still together. I'd been to their place for a somewhat boozy dinner, and as Bart and I sat relaxing afterwards, I felt guilty about hearing Philip clattering around the kitchen clearing up. Purely for the sake of politeness I asked him "Should I go and help Philip clear up?"

Bart was the very image of the bank clerk he was at the time. Neatly clipped hair, glasses, and even now still wearing his tie from work. However after so many years of knowing him, I knew how deceptive his appearance was and that he had a wicked sense of mischief.

Perhaps it was the second bottle of wine, but it was this look that he now got on his face as he said a most extraordinary thing.

"Actually I think he'd prefer you go in there and strip naked for him."

I blinked, trying to process this bizarrely incongruous remark.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Bart being Bart just shrugged, laughed and went to clear the rest of the dinner things from the table.

For some reason this remark kept ringing in my ears. Or more correctly, the pit of my stomach.

I could feel my heart racing and Bart's evasive non-answer had not helped at all. I walked into the kitchen where Philip was just tackling the pots. I don't think I'd ever looked at him in any particularly sexual way before. He was several years older than Bart's 27 years, although frankly I wasn't sure by how much. Somehow there was just no vibe between us, even in the vague way its sometimes present between platonic friends. Now though, with the wine buzzing in my head, I felt... well something. My hands were even shaking a little as I dried the things he'd washed and tried to make small talk. Finally I just had to exorcise this one insistent remark that Bart had made and not knowing any subtle way to do it just it blurted out

"Bart said you'd rather I come in here and strip for you than help you with the mess."

Philip looked a little startled, and then smiled.

"Bart should learn to keep his mouth shut," he said quietly, letting his eyes travel from mine then very slowly down my body. There was a moment of awkward silence until he seemed to collect himself. "Coffee?"

I suppose it was no surprise to hear they were breaking up several months later and Philip was obviously struggling with the whole situation. Bart had apparently asked him to move out. Trying to be a friend, I offered to help him do some work on his new place before he moved in. There was a lot to do. The whole place had to be painted, after which he wanted to lay a parquet floor. I felt badly for him and as I was planning on buying my own house soon, I thought I could use the experience and somewhat over generously promised to help him with the whole project.

Instead of having to drag my work clothes along every time I went there, I'd started leaving them in a bag in one of the bedrooms. One day I arrived to find that Philip had taken all the bedroom doors off their hinges for sanding and painting. He was chatting away from the moment I arrived, following me to the bedroom I used to change in. The previous times he had just left me to it. Today though, he just kept talking as he stood there. When it was clear he wasn't going to discretely withdraw I began to feel stupidly prudish waiting any longer. Slowly I began to undress. Although he was trying not to be obvious about it, he was definitely looking. Suddenly the memory of that dinner months before came rushing back. I felt incredibly self conscious in the realisation that that one chance remark was now bizarrely coming true. I tried to change as fast as I could, and though Philip made no reference to it at all the atmosphere in the room was obviously different. My heart was pounding as I dropped my pants and struggled into my old jeans before rushing out of the room.

Later as I walked home, I tried to make sense of it. I'd changed in hundreds of situations with other people around, men and women. Why on earth had this simple incident had such an effect on me? Whatever it was, I realised it had actually been an incredible turn on. I began to wonder if Bart's odd remark been based on something Philip had actually said. The next day I went over, Philip once again stayed chatting to me as I went to change. This time however, I stripped slowly and deliberately down to just my underwear. I asked him about something we were working on in the kitchen, knowing full well that I'd have to walk out there to show him what I meant. He played along, giving me a perfect excuse to walk around in my briefs for 20 minutes or so.

The next few times I went over we repeated this pattern. We'd talk, he'd stay there in the doorway while I undressed, then I'd hang around in my underwear for as long as plausible. He'd also started making remarks about my body, the type of briefs I wore and so on, which made it all the more charged.

I was loving the fact that we both knew what was going on, but that it was never explicitly stated. I also really began to want it to go a step further, because it was making me massively horny every time I went over there, knowing he was going to watch me strip off. Somehow though, I just didn't want to turn it into something explicitly sexual. I was enjoying the subtleness of the fact that it was all still plausibly normal. I especially loved the comments he was making about my body; he liked smooth slim builds and seeing guys in briefs, telling me how good he thought I looked in them, and that I was obviously a 'big boy' as he called it.

One especially hot weekend after a long afternoon's work, we were sitting on the back deck having a drink. I was feeling tired and a little rosey, both from the work and my gym session that morning. Bart had shown up unexpectedly to help with the painting and as the 3 of us sat there chatting, an idea began to form in my mind. I'd been becoming increasingly anxious to take things to the next level without being too overt about it, and suddenly I knew exactly what I had to do. Philip was fastidious in his work and after 2 weeks, all the bedroom doors were done and waited only to be rehung. Since my previous visit however, Philip had also taken the door off the bathroom. Not knowing how long this situation might last I knew I had to take my chances, even with Bart there.

I asked nervously "Philip, I feel really sweaty. Would it be OK if I just took a quick shower?"

He looked at me for a moment and for a second I was sure I saw the same look Id seen only once before in a kitchen months earlier. I hesitated a moment and then stood up to drag a towel from my gym bag.

It felt strange stripping off my shirt in the doorless bathroom. It opened onto the hall and front door, and I an image flitted into my mind of the door bell ringing and Philip blithely opening the door as I stood there naked under the shower. I shook my head and the idea faded. What was happening to me? What was it exactly I wanted from this game we'd somehow started to play? I was just undoing my jeans when Philip appeared in the doorway and started going on about how he wanted to tackle the floor. It was a total sham of course and I wasn't listening to a word he said, because all I could think was - he's going to finally see me naked .

He was running on, something he was good at. And I was standing there in my briefs just as he'd seen me 10 times already. Only this time my hands were shaking and he was looking right at me as I slowly pulled the underwear down and took it off. I got in the shower and he settled himself comfortably on the edge of the tub, a metre away and at eye level with my cock, which I was fairly sure he was now openly looking at most of the time.

I felt the strangest mix of emotions, embarrassment, arousal, and when he calmly picked up my discarded underwear and folded it neatly on the side of the tub, some darker feeling I found hard to name. A feeling that deepened when he said quietly

"Make sure you don't miss anything" as I was soaping up. I took the hint and spent some time soaping my dick and balls.

What with standing there totally naked with him blatantly watching me from close by and the fact that the door was off and his ex could come by any minute, the whole experience was incredibly erotic.

It was dangerous to sustain this for too long, because Bart was literally just around the corner from the hallway. In this state of mind I would probably have gotten off on it if he'd appeared in the doorway and gotten a good look too. But luckily my sane side kicked in and I realised this he would use this to embarrass the hell of out me afterwards if it did actually happen.

As it turned out I had a lucky escape, because just after I'd pulled on my briefs again, Bart stuck his head around the corner to say he was leaving. When he saw me, he smirked and asked somewhat sarcastically 'Nice shower?'

Later, I came to realise that he of course knew what I was yet to find out; that Philip and he had more in common as far as character was concerned that I would ever have suspected.

~ ~ ~

The next time I went around to Philip's, things had somehow subtly shifted. We were sitting on the deck after work, and it was another hot afternoon. We sat drinking beer and watching the teenagers playing basketball on the court which was half hidden by trees behind his apartment. The deck had a waist high wall and was pretty deep, so that really only the people living on higher floors opposite would be able to see us. I made a remark about how hot it was, and Philip surprised me by saying

'Well why dont you take your shirt off then?"

I shrugged and laughed but a few moments later he looked straight at me saying

"Go on, no one will see you."

Something in his voice made me want to go along with him, so I pulled my shirt over my head, which oddly, he picked up and put on the other side of his chair, out of my reach.

'Stand up' he said.

I looked at him, not understanding what he was asking. He just smirked at me in a way I later came to recognise as a traffic light signalling when he was in this particular mood.

'Just stand up,' he repeated.

I did as he said, still not getting what he was up to, but intrigued by this new demanding tone of voice.

Suddenly he grabbed my belt and pulled me over in front of him.

"Those look pretty hot too," he said, pointing at my jeans.

"Isn't that belt tight?" he asked. I shrugged and he kept smirking.

"Undo it then" he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, wanting to make him spell it out.

"What do you mean, what do I mean? Don't act stupid. You heard what I said."

He stared right into my eyes until finally, hands shaking, I did as he said.

"Still too tight, undo the button."

These things were now said basically as orders. It was a little out of character to say the least. But for now, I needed to see where this was going.

"No, you still look uncomfortable. Undo the zip too."

I slid it down slowly, now beginning to become seriously aroused by the whole situation. My jeans sagged open and of course he could see at least part of the bulge I had started to get. "Turn around," came the next instruction, and as I turned to face the park behind, I felt him tugging at my jeans, sliding them slowly, slowly down until they were hanging at my knees.

My mind was in something of a confusion and all kinds of thoughts fought for attention; that this was unlike him, because he was always very mild mannered. That I hoped he got that I wasn't looking for sex with him. And above all, that I felt an almost physical need to explore this game further.

I protested about his neighbours seeing us, but he told me that wasn't my problem as they were his neighbours. He nodded at the jeans.

"You'll trip over those in a minute, take them off."

When I hesitated, he just sat there looking at me.

"Go on, take them off," he repeated.

His tone was so totally unlike the Philip I knew, I somehow felt I just 'had' to do it. So off they came.

I sat down quickly, because I was still feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea that there were 10 or so apartments across the park potentially able to look down onto the deck. Philip had taken my jeans and put them with my shirt, so my only choices were to stay sitting there, or go inside and put on my street clothes. It felt weirdly liberating to be sitting in my underwear though, feeling the breeze across my body. And though part of me was a little nervous about what might happen next, the desire for Philip to take the next step was much stronger.

He had already teased me earlier about the briefs I was wearing, because they were old and gaped open at the legs. As I sat there, he looked at them again and shook his head.

"What were you thinking?" he asked me rhetorically.

"Your balls are hanging half out, I can see so much you might as well not be wearing them. You need to throw those away, really."

Of course I had chosen them deliberately for this reason, knowing he'd be seeing me in them when I changed.

"In fact, I don't think I can look at them any longer, so hand them over."

I hadn't expected he would actually get me to take them off right out there on the balcony. Obviously I had been wrong, and my hesitation only made him more insistent. Finally he sighed, fixed me in the eye and said "André, I won't tell you again. Take – them – off. Now."

That tone of voice was clearly not taking no for an answer, so reluctantly I lifted my ass off the seat just enough to slide the briefs down, and then sat down as I slid them down my legs and took them off. Philip grabbed them out of my hands, and to my astonishment, flicked them over the railing where they disappeared from view.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked him, and he laughed and said it was the only way he could be sure he'd never have to look at 'those awful old undies' ever again. I was trying to cover my dick with my hands, but he slid his chair over beside mine, and pulled my hands away.

"Let me see what you're hiding there," he said, smirking that familiar smirk again.

This time I didn't resist, and he took his time looking at my semi-hard cock lying along my leg.

'It was bigger last time I saw it," he said teasingly. I nodded out toward the park.

"That might have something to do with it," I replied.

"Oh don't be such a wimp," he said, grabbing the table standing in front of us and dragged it over so it was hiding my lower half a little more from anyone who happened to look across. At least that is what I hoped. He had his hand on my arm now, stroking it gently.

I looked at him, his face close to mine with a broad grin on it.

"Cooler now?" he asked.

"Not at all," I replied. He laughed, nodding at my chest.

"Sure? Those look pretty hard to me." Sure enough, my nipples were a little harder than normal. I assured him that it wasn't from the wind.

"Sensitive are they? Bart's like that too. I only had to point at them. So what happens if I do this then?" he asked, and not waiting for a reply, lifting his hand from my arm. With one extended forefinger he barely grazed across my chest, flicking my left nipple and then sliding over to very softly pinch the right one with his thumb.

The effect was electric. The combination of the situation and this sudden unexpected physical stimulation hardened me to full erection. Philip made appreciative noises, and I felt him slide his hand under my balls while he continued teasing my nipples. I had never felt more exposed or turned on in my life and the fact we were sitting outside suddenly didn't seem to matter. The risk faded into the background and I gave myself over to the experience.

And the experience was intense. His hands were all over me, tweaking, tugging, stroking, all the while making comments such as "I think André likes this", "André is a bit of an exhibitionist, aren't you? ", "You might end up naked a lot more often when you come round here". All of this combined to put me in an almost trancelike state, lying back in my chair with my eyes closed. After a time, I don't know how long, I realised he had stopped. When I opened my eyes I saw I'd unconsciously slid my chair back so that I'd lost most of the cover provided by the table. Philip followed my eye line along the neighbour's windows and smiled at me.

"Stop worrying exhibitionist, they probably enjoyed it," he laughed, before dumping my jeans in my lap.

We made our goodbyes not long after, and I truly felt as if I'd be caught doing something by one of my old teachers at school. There was no denying what had happened, or my acquiescence in it. My cheeks were burning and yet that humiliating feeling just somehow added to the intensity.

As I walked home, the feeling of being naked under my jeans was a reminder of what had just happened, and a deeply ominous cannon blast across the bows of secret hopes I had never dared to think might come true.