I published this excellent story in Issue 42 of Bound & Gagged. Since it concentrates on two very different experiences, I'm going to post it here in two parts, the first today, the second on Thursday.
MEMPHIS, TN. My
very first bondage experience happened in the first grade when a group of us
children found some rope on the playground during lunch. I can’t remember all
the specific details, but I’m sure I’m the one who said, “Let’s play Cowboys
and Indians!” I soon found myself sitting on the ground with my hands loosely
tied behind my back around the tether ball pole. The seed had been planted…
As I got older, I was fascinated with the male chest and spent many hours watching old Tarzan movies, Batman or Star Trek episodes where a bare-chested William Shatner was often restrained or forced to wear some futuristic collar.
In junior high, my friend Mike and I often spent the night at each other’s house. As an only kid, I viewed him as a kind of big brother (although we were the same age) and we always bathed together and wrestled. Mike was stronger than me and he always won. As the loser, I endured what he called “tickle tortures” which consisted of him sitting on my bare chest, his knees pinning my arms, and tickling my ribs and armpits. My hysterical laughter usually resulted in waking his older brother who’d storm in in his underwear and tickle both of us. There were some mighty fine genes running up that family tree making those two brothers extremely beefy at an early age… I even recall Mike had hair on his balls before any other kids our age. Sadly, we parted ways in high school…
Other memories include ordering some younger neighborhood children to play with me in our basement. I’d ask them to tie me up on our pool table so they could “interrogate and torture” me. Once I even stripped and let them spreadeagle me. They were apprehensive about the bondage and seemed taken aback that I pranced around naked, but being older, I demanded they do it or else they’d find themselves stripped and tied up… They complied and I think secretly enjoyed it.
Looking back on these early experiences of male bondage and domination, there was always an element of danger: the danger of discovery by a parent, teacher or discipline by an older brother. Combine that with watching half nude television heroes tied up in life-threatening plots and my bondage escapades eventually evolved into sexual encounters which often lured me into mysterious or potentially dangerous situations. Here are two of them; in both cases, I don’t recall their names and I’m fortunate that nothing serious befell me…
I can pinpoint the exact moment I knew my bondage interests would dominate my sexual tastes. At 18, I walked into my first adult bookstore and spied a magazine cover with a photo of a man in chaps strapped in a sling! Drawn immediately to it, I flipped through the pages… I was hooked! From that point on, I cruised outside the levi/leather dive across the street, but my fear of the unknown always prevented me from venturing inside The Barndoor.
One summer Saturday night, I was cruising when it started to rain. I wasn’t ready to go home just yet, so to avoid getting drenched, I darted inside The Barndoor. I ordered a beer in the hopes they wouldn’t card me. They didn’t…and I just stared into the murkiness and watched the men in their biker jackets, chaps and western wear. The smell of leather and smoke overpowered me and I knew I had to be a part of this! But after my second beer, my fear of initiating something compelled me to go sit in my car outside the front door.
The rain had let up slightly and I was debating whether to jackoff right there or wait til I got home when the door to the bar swung open and a man stepped out wearing chaps, jeans, a leather harness strapped around his barrel chest, a leather jacket, boots and a biker’s cap. He was shorter than me and in his mid 30’s… he had one of those rock solid beer guts: a far cry from the washboard stomachs I’d seen in the leather magazines. I hadn’t paid too much attention to him in the bar; he wasn’t all that attractive, but he did have a well-defined chest! There was a crude, raw sexuality about him as he started up the street in the steady rain.
Those two beers had convinced me to do the hospitable thing: I pulled up and offered him a ride (I was sincere in my offer…there wasn’t any need to walk in the rain.) He stared at me, sized me up, mumbled a “Sure, thanks!” and climbed in…
The interior filled with the aroma of leather and I secretly inhaled deeply. He grabbed my cigarettes off the dashboard, said he was heading home, asked “Do ya mind if I bum one?”… Then he lit up. He was quiet except for the “turn here” or “make a left here” as we drove. Turning at a stop sign, he said he lived down there and pointed… In an area where lots of old buildings were torn down, a lonely brownstone still stood at the end of the dead end street. A slight panic swept over me as we pulled next to the curb… I left the engine running and waited for him to get out; he cracked the window and flicked his butt into the rain.
“Turn off the car!” he demanded. I stuttered something about being too drunk and needing to get home, but he wasn’t in the mood. Reaching over and grabbing the keys, he pulled me out the passenger door… the rain had picked up again and splashed in my face. A few windows glowed with light on the top floor but the first floor seemed deserted. Occasional rolls of thunder boomed like a theatrical effect as he pinned my arms behind me and marched me inside, roughly escorting me down a hallway to an apartment door. He grabbed the keys off of his left belt loop, unlocked it and pushed me into the empty room and on to the floor.
He forced my hands behind me and cuffed my wrists… taking some rope from his jacket, he swiftly hog-tied my ankles to my wrists. He yanked my head off the floor by my hair and shoved a balled-up handkerchief in my mouth…knotting another one around my head to keep it in place. He rolled me onto my side with his booted foot and I saw standing over me this short, pudgy leatherman with a huge bulge in his jeans…beads of rain dripped from his biker’s cap onto my face.
He lit a cigarette and explained most everyone had moved out of the building and when the few remaining tenants moved out next month, the place’d be torn down… he was the super and was staying until they left. Then he unsnapped his chaps, undid his jeans and produced the fattest cock I’d seen (I’d only sucked cock a few times and had only been fucked once.) I couldn’t imagine this dick in my mouth and certainly not up my ass! It wasn’t all that long (though it was long enough), but it was so wide that as he stroked it, he couldn’t even get his fingers wrapped around it! Kneeling down and slapping my face with his hardening rod, he told me not to wander off, then put out his cigarette on the floor near my face and left…leaving me to struggle amidst the debris of the abandoned apartment.
Lying helpless on the floor, I watched the rain beat against the dirty windows and the lightning cast ominous shadows across the room as it flashed through the dilapidated venetian blinds. My cock ached in my shorts during the whole ordeal, but I was still wanting to get out of there before he raped me!
In the stillness of the building, I heard footsteps descend from above and stop outside the door. It creaked open and he stood in the frame wearing only his chaps and harness, his fat prick jutting out. He swaggered over with a bottle of poppers held up to his nose, removed my gag and shoved his meat into my mouth. Of course I choked on it but he didn’t care… he just wanted to get his rocks off. He pulled up my rain-soaked shirt and pinched my tits; he fumbled with my dick still trapped in my shorts…all the while gagging me with his tool.
Disgusted that I wasn’t a better cocksucker, he threatened to fuck my ass if I didn’t improve my technique. After what seemed like hours of being facefucked, he pulled out, pumped it rapidly and shot his load in my face. Soon afterwards he uncuffed me and headed towards the door, pausing only to give me a word of advice… “You got a lot to learn, kid! Don’t get involved in scenes you can’t handle!” He disappeared and I quickly untied my legs and stumbled into the rainy night a little bit wiser…
He was right… I had a lot to learn! But now more than ever, the pursuit of my fantasies stayed buried, although I still frequented those leather bars. I started wearing tighter jeans and tank tops to show off my gym-toned body and I even acquired a leather jacket… at least I’d look like I belonged even if I was too afraid to participate. From a distance, I perfected the art of cruising, teasing and then walking away from it all until one day the following summer…
[To be continued]
Wow, sure wish I had been that kid, and that the guy wasn't so quick to let me go. Can't wait for part 2
Posted by: Bondokid | June 26, 2013 at 02:07 PM