23 March 2011

"Sliding Doors"

In recent days, I have reconnected, albeit quite unexpectedly, with someone who I first came into contact with some considerable years ago.  It is strange how life goes at times, but, it was a wonderful surprise to see them once again. .

Things may well have been very different had we both been at different stages within our own lives. When I think about it, it actually reminds me of that film Sliding Doors with Gwyneth Paltrow.

In the film, the plot splits into two parallel universes based on the two paths of the main characters livesThat  all depending on whether she catches a particular train or not. 

It shows, how a split second can change the way life goes or how just one thing can have lead to very different outcomes.  How something so simple as missing a train (or catching it) can have so very different outcomes all because of a split second in timing . . . this is something that happens throughout the film with different situations.

Something that happens with us in life.

In brief, in one of the timelines where she catches the train she meets John. 

He is played by the rather yummy John Hannah (and cos its my blog and cos he is rather sexy here's an extra pic lol)

Anyway . . .back to the story, she gets the train and meets John, but gets home in time to find her boyfriend in bed with his ex girlfriend.  In the timeline where she misses the train she goes to get a taxi, but someone tries to snatch her handbag and by the time she gets home the ex girlfriend of her boyfriend has already left.  The film shows the different timelines throughout, the things that happen, or the things that could have happened if she had caught or missed the train.

Life is very often like this.  So many things of when we go through life which could have been different . . ."if only . . ."

And this is very much the case with this person and I.

I have often wondered whether the path may have been different for us had we met in a different way, a different time, if we hadn't of lost contact . . .

We first met sharing an extended coach journey from the town where I live into London, he had missed the earlier coach and waited for the next one which I had a ticket on.  We sat across from each other and from there we became friends, keeping in touch long beyond the journey. A journey which was normally 3 hours was almost double that after we got caught up in a road accident on the M4.  As such, we spent all that time talking to each other, we ate together, we even slept together (even if it was on each others shoulder lol)

We wouldn't have met if he had managed to get the coach he should have done, we wouldn't have met if I wasn't heading to London a day earlier than planned.  But, we stayed in touch in the times that followed until through circumstances beyond us both, we lost touch.

His life was very much a case of "sliding doors", the day his wife had a bad headache which she never suffered from but came home early.  The day that he had finished a meeting early so headed home to take advantage of having the house to himself before his wife came home from work . . .or so he thought.  Instead she arrived home to find him walking round the house completely naked apart from a collar around his neck and wearing a pair of lace and silk french knickers, his erect cock clearly standing out through the softness of the material.

If only his meeting hadn't finished early. If only his wife hadn't of had a headache. If only he had gone back to the office. . . .if only . . .if only . . .it really was a case of how different things could have been. His own case of "sliding doors"

We became friends before this "incident" in his life, and we hadn't really shared the part of ourselves that reflects his submissive tendencies and needs or indeed my own dominant ones.  There was always an undercurrent, something bubbling under the surface.  There were things that drew me to him and indeed him to me, but our paths really crossed at a time in life that wasn't the greatest for either of us.  We talked about "surface" needs, desires. We sometimes talked about things of a sexual nature, fantasies even, but even then always hesitant to share the depths.

I remember the day that he called me, after several months of no contact, saying his life was a mess, that something had happened and he didn't know what to do.  That he hadn't known what to do and that he had been plunged into the darkest of places during recent months but he was struggling and needed someone to talk to.

He had come round that evening.  But couldn't tell me of the thing that had ultimately led to his situation.  He was afraid that I would react in the same way his wife had done.  All he could tell me was that she didn't understand him, something I've heard so many times over the years.

I had all sorts of images and scenarios going through my mind, and the way my mind works it really went down to the depths of depravity.  But we had talked, he had cried.  He said he feared I wouldn't understand him either.

He finally found the words to tell me about what had happened on that day.  Him being at home, his wife coming home. What she discovered and what she had said.  His wife however had been certainly shocked at her findings. She couldn't accept it, nor find an understanding of it, instead she ended their marriage there and then. No discussion. No real attempts at conversation. No attempts at understanding or resolution.

He was sick, perverted, disgusting and everything either side of that and in between. Recriminations, accusations and never ending put downs from his partner left him feeling destroyed, feeling ashamed of the things that he had kept hidden but which were the natural longings, desires and fantasies that he craved.  He had faced the inner turmoil of all of this in silence during the years, a need kept hidden and buried. No outlet, no release and no-one he could talk to.

He had been off work ill through the stress of the subsequent break up.

It took a long time for him to get out what had happened, it took a lot of me trying to reassure him that whatever it was, that I wouldn't judge him for whatever had happened and that as friends, it wouldn't change that.  But, he had suffered so much at his wife's reaction that he feared it happening all over again.

His vulnerability was so clear to see. He certainly did wear his heart on his sleeve most of the time, his emotions were always ones he allowed out.  I will never forget when he actually told me what had happened.

I tried to reassure him it was nothing to be ashamed of, and that there were far more "shocking" things . . .and it was from this point that he shared his inner needs, his desires, his longings to submit.  And it was from this point that he became aware of my own interests, my own feelings, my need to dominate.

We talked for hours that night.

It brought us closer.

We had curled up on the sofa, his head in my lap, my hand stroking his head and hair while he talked.  It was just like someone had opened the flood gates and all of the pent up feelings and emotions and longings from the years were pouring out at a rate of knots.

I watched his reactions, I watched the pain in his eyes, I watched the desire in his eyes for the things that he longed for.  And I wanted him to know that there wasn't anything wrong with him, that he wasn't wrong, that his feelings weren't wrong.  He struggled with what people would think if they knew.  He struggled with his own feelings of shame, the feelings that he wasn't "normal", that he was all the things he wife had called him.

"I want to do something for you, will you trust me and allow me to?" I had asked him long into the night.

He hesitated. But nodded his head. He was unsure, you could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of the unknown.

I had stood up, gave him my hand and helped him to stand too.  I told him to stand in the middle of the living room and close his eyes while I went to get something.  He hesitantly closed his eyes and I stood watching him like that for a few minutes.  His eyes were adjusting to the darkness and I could tell he was nervous, but I could also see that his cock was twitching and hardening inside his trousers.  His arousal from the fear, from the unknown, from the whole situation was arousing to him.  His reactions touched me, hit me hard.  Filled me with my own feelings of arousal, of sadism, of everything that being who I am brings to me.

I had left him there, gone to the bedroom and returned with a pair of white lace panties.  I knew they would be tight on him, but this was what I wanted.  This was what he needed.

I had stood behind him.  Took his hand and placed the panties into his hand. "Open your eyes and put these on" I had whispered into his ear.

His face filled with confusion at first, a mixture of his eyes adjusting to the light and seeing what I had given to him and what I was asking of him, from him.

"I . . I . . can't" he had responded shaking his head. His bottom lip quivering. His face dropped.

He cried.

He held his hands to his face clutching the knickers and cried.  Deep body wrenching sobs.  He had tried to say something but everytime he did the words wouldn't come out, only gasps and tears.  He looked like a lost child, who had been given something that he had always longed for but then didn't know what to do.  I comforted him while he cried until he had stopped.

I looked at him.

"It's ok if you can't"

"I . . I . . can't"

"Of course you can . . .if you want to.  Only if you want to."

"But . . .but . . .I can't . . ."

"Yes you can.  You want to wear them don't you"

He nodded.

"It is something that you want to do, so you can."

There was an internal battle raging in his mind, the arousal battle was being won however by his hardening cock.  I had reached down at that moment, trailing the end of my nails over his hardening self. He had gasped, becoming aware of his own state of arousal.

"You see . . .it is ok to feel this way. It is ok to want it. It is ok to need it.  Not everyone will run. Not everyone will think it is disgusting, that you are disgusting.  You aren't. You just need it."

He turned to walk away from me, the panties tightly clutched in his hand.

"Put them on here. Take off your clothes and put them on here"

"I . . .I  . . .can't"

"Yes you can. Of course you can.  Be a good boy and put them on. You know that you want to, need to."

He stood there.

His cheeks beginning to burn from the humiliation he was feeling at my asking him to undress before me, this wasn't something that we had shared in the time we had been friends no matter how close we had been.  And god he looked so afraid, and so vulnerable and so lost, lost but longing.  I felt my own sex twitch in arousal at his predicament, I could feel my own wetness growing by the second. My own feelings, my own body reacting to the battle he was facing . . .albeit a battle I knew he would ultimately win.

I knew that he could. . . I knew that he would. 

He just needed the permission to do it. To know it was ok.

He slowly undid the belt on his trousers and allowed them to drop to the floor.

He was shaking at this point, a mixture of nerves, arousal, excitement, longing, fear. I had taken his hand and helped him to step out of them, he bent down, picked them up and held them out to me as if he was presenting them to me.  I took them and placed them over the back of the chair.

Helping him out of his boxers.  He was only semi naked, but he was trying to hide his cock that was already hard and erect.

"It's ok, you don't need to hide"

Instead I had reached up, undone the buttons on his shirt and he had stood there allowing me to undress him.  I did so slowly, making sure he was ok with what I was doing.  He couldn't speak. His mouth was dry, his breathing long, slow, laboured.  I gently ran my fingers down the length of his arm.

"Put them on for me"

I know that he was struggling with this part because of the reaction he had received from his wife.  The fact that this was the first time he would have worn anything like this in front of someone else.  I know that he feared that I would judge him, that I would think less of him.  I didn't. Far far from it.

He slowly bent forward and placed each leg into the panties. And hesitated before pulling them up.

"Come on, you're nearly there.  It's ok"

I had touched his skin at that time and he shivered, his cock stood to attention even more so.  He had laughed at that point and said that he didn't know how he would get them on with his cock so hard.

"That's ok.  We can force it in I'm sure." and I laughed gently.

There was a drop of precum on the end of his cock, I touched it with my finger and took it up to his mouth, pushing my fingers in between his lips, he recoiled at first with the shock of it, the taste of it, but then hungrily sucked on my finger. 

I reached down at that point with my other hand and began masturbating his already hard cock, reaching between his legs to feel his heavy and laden balls.

"Put them on"

I stopped what I was doing and stood away from him.  Watching him as he slowly bent down and pulled up the lace panties over his erect cock.  When  he had managed to get them on, and his cock arranged behind the lace, he was bulging out of them more by the minute.  But I will never forget that look as he felt at home.  That he felt accepted.

"There we go. It wasn't that hard now was it . . .unlike you" I had smiled at him.

He had blushed and lowered his gaze.

"How do you feel?"

"I . . .I . . .I can't describe how I feel.  I cannot express how I feel"

It was clear from his reactions that there were emotions of varying degrees and strengths coursing through his body.  He shed another few tears from relief. From the release he was feeling.  I had comforted him, held him, accepted him.

Those lace panties were the first pair he had not had to buy himself, the first pair he had been given, that he had been gifted.  They were the pair that in many ways signified his desires and longings and that he was accepted for those.

I had massaged his cock through the lace and satin, he hardened even more, the lace being stretched to its full capacity.

"My god . . .I need to cum. Please may I cum" He had whispered.

"Yes of course you may"

He hadn't needed to ask.

I hadn't needed to give permission.

But sometimes these things are just "right" they just "fit".  And I reached down and continued to touch his cock through the lace, rubbing, playing, teasing, wanking him.

And he came.

The hot liquid spurting from his cock and through the satin and lace panties.  He had commented on the mess he had made.  And after he had orgasmed he looked at me with a look that said "please tell me I am ok"

"It's ok. It really is ok. YOU are ok."

And we had gone back to where we had been a time earlier, curled up on the sofa, my stroking his hair with his head in my lap, him naked apart from the pair of panties stained with his own cum.  A whole range of emotions pouring out from his body.

And that was when our own friendship changed.

He was a very intriguing person.  His need to be subservient was very clear.  He was a warm, open and deliciously kinky when he fought past the internal battles in his head which would tell him he wasn't normal.

But time passed and just as we all do, he discovered more about the type of dynamic that he wanted and needed, and my own life went down a different path.

We were friends.

Friends that had shared many things, friends who had shared so many thoughts, feelings, experiences and emotions in relation to all things BDSM and kink.

And in another "Sliding doors" moment, I realised that we wouldn't have shared that part of ourselves or had that deepening friendship if his wife hadn't found out about him, if she hadn't of come home early.  And that another moment had determined the way our lives would go . . .

Life is very strange how it works, just as it was strange how we reconnected after a couple of years.  If I hadn't of been walking down the street when he was getting out of his car our paths wouldn't have reconnected . . .

Life is full of those "Sliding door" moments.

They happen every day.

We never know how things may have been if just one thing had been different.  But, we just have to take things when they happen, in the way they happen. Cherish them for what they are, for everything they are.  We cannot live with "what if's", we cannot think of the things that may have been if only things had been different.

Things could have been different for me in lots of ways.  I've had lots of "Sliding Doors" moments, even recently.  But, such is life.

We stood there and smiled at each other when we realised we had bumped into each other again.  He said that he was going to park elsewhere but just by chance came down this road and found a space . .

Just by chance . . .a chance that would have been gone a moment or a second later. When I would have carried on down the road and we wouldn't have reconnected.  That he would have parked elsewhere and we would have continued being old friends but no longer in touch.

Life moves in mysterious ways at times.  I do not subscribe to the thought that things happen for a reason, they just happen. They just do.  But it is amazing to think just how different things can be . . .could be . . .even if something slightly different was to happen.

"I still have them." He grinned as he looked at me.  I knew he was referring to that pair of lace panties.

"I'm sure you still look good in them" I had replied. He blushed.  I smiled. His reaction hit me like a bowling ball knocking over the pins.

"Maybe I can show you some time" he said as he took a step towards me and kissed my cheek.  His hair with a splattering of grey. I breathed in his smell.

"Maybe JoJo. Maybe."

"It's been a long time since I heard you call me that."

"It's been a long time since anything . . . "

"It has.  I often wonder if things had been different . . .have you?"

"Maybe JoJo.  Maybe. . ."


  1. Really amazing story and beautifully written. It's a shame that such a simple thing as a man wearing pretty underwear is so stigmatised. I wonder how the man's wife would rationalise her decision to end the marriage based on that.

  2. Probably congitive dissonance. To her he was no longer the person she had thought he was. But he was actually. People are complex and multi-layered. She was just seeing more of him.