Here's a favorite story of mine that appeared in Issue 50 (Jan/Feb 1996):
I REMOVED HIS GAG WITH MY MOUTH AND FUCKED HIS MOUTH WITH MY TONGUE
NEW PHILADELPHIA, OH. Right after the start of my Junior year, I met Phil. At the time, I thought he was just another mildly attractive sophomore moving into my dormitory, just around the corner from my room. We were both engineering majors, so we had that in common, and that was the basis of the friendship. At first, anyway. There was something about Phil that turned me on from day one. Make that charmed me. No, he wasn’t the world’s hottest looking young man, but he had a shy smile to die for and a dynamite body that his clothes couldn’t conceal. He was about 5'9", an inch or so shorter than me, blue eyes, brown hair, about 160 pounds. At first, I didn’t want to fuck him as much as I wanted to take care of him. At first, anyway.
After a couple of years of soul searching, I was slowly coming out to some close friends and family, but to the rest of the world I was still playing straight, leering at pretty girls and inventing home-town honeys. I started going to meetings of the campus gay students association at the student union. One week, I noticed Phil walking slowly by the room while the GSA was having a meeting. I thought he looked in but I don’t know if he saw me, and I figured he had other business in the Union. Two weeks later, after the next GSA meeting, I was walking out of the room and saw Phil across the hall, sort of looking and not looking. Since he didn’t strike me as one of those “Let’s go look at the fags” sort of people, I swallowed hard and walked over to him.
We talked for a few minutes, and then he offered to buy me a beer in the rathskeller. To my surprise, he was very open, telling me that he thought he was gay, and that he’d heard from a mutual friend that I might be gay as well. He was getting heat from his parents and was confused about, well, everything. I knew the feeling and we talked until the place closed and they threw us out. Something told me I could trust Phil, so I found myself telling him everything, including my supersecret curiosity about tying up someone. This interested Phil, too, but he said he’d been too embarrassed to bring it up to anyone before, even his one male conquest in high school. But he’d gotten a thrill from some of the same TV shows and comic books featuring bondage that I’d enjoyed while growing up, especially Wild, Wild West and Rawhide.
All the way back to the dorm, I started looking at Phil in a new way, but believe it or not, I didn’t race back to the dorm and chain Phil to the wall naked. Trying anything the first night would’ve scared Phil shitless. He needed a friend more than a fuck. Phil had a roommate but I had a single, so I invited him in to continue the conversation. No bondage, but some nervous but nice cuddling and kissing with our shirts unbuttoned. That’s as far as he wanted to go, but while I had him in a hug, I grabbed his wrists with my hands and pinned them together behind his back. We kissed, and when he tried to free his hands, I held them that much tighter. He laughed and asked if that was what I meant by bondage. I just smiled and said it was a start.
And the campaign began. I don’t mean to sound ruthless, but I wanted Phil. I wanted him tied up, and I was determined to get him to like the idea. Maybe I could’ve gotten him drunk or stoned, or just forced him into it, but I liked the guy too much, and I didn’t want him tied up unless he got into it, too. Does that make sense?
It turns out that we’d both had some negative experiences with bondage. Phil said that when he was around six, a bunch of older kids, playing Cowboys and Indians, grabbed him and some other little kids and tied them up in a graveyard after tearing off their shirts. That experience left him fairly confused about bondage, and more than a little nervous. Meanwhile, the summer before, an older guy I was hanging out with, who promised to show me the ropes (ha, ha), took me to a heavy leather bar in Chicago and pretty much abandoned me there when he disappeared into one of the back rooms. I had a moustache then and looked like a clone, but I was just a scared kid nursing a beer in a sea of black leather, trying to look like I did this all the time. A couple of guys started hassling me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. When I got up and tried to make a smooth exit, they pushed me against the bar and put me in handcuffs, behind my back, and started feeling me up. For years, I had fantasies about being arrested and cuffed, but the reality was cutting into my wrists and hurt like hell, and I nearly screamed from fear, at the mercy of these drunks. And I probably would’ve screamed if a hand hadn’t closed over my mouth. The bartender got into it and convinced the drunks to unlock my hands, and I didn’t hang around to wait for my “date.” I guess I like to take it slow.
So that’s the way I pursued and wore down Phil. Slowly. Dropping hints and dirty talk about what I’d do to him on that great day when he was tied up and mine, all mine. I talked him into going with me to a discount store that was having a sale on menswear. When we got there, I told him I wanted him to pick out some ties, but not for his neck. Phil didn’t get the joke until I took his hands and pretended to tie them together. He blushed, but bought the ties anyway.
As soon as we got back to our dorm, we made a beeline for my room and brought out the ties. Suddenly, while we looked at each other, things got serious. Phil kissed me and said he wasn’t sure about this whole thing, but I begged him to trust me. I stood him against the dresser so he could see everything in the mirror, and I started to unbutton his shirt.
“N-no,” he hesitated. “Just do it, okay?”
I made a tactical retreat, stroking the small amount of skin on his chest that I had uncovered, and I held out the four ties we’d bought. “Which one?” I asked him. I wanted him to pick his own method of restraint. He picked a blue striped one, and I moved behind him, where he had already put his wrists behind his back. “Do it, man,” he said. “Do it, do it…”
I pulled off my shirt and flexed a little for Phil, showing off. Wrapping the center of the tie around his wrists, I made the first knot and drew it tight. He grunted, and I asked him if it was too tight, but he said no, and then kept saying, “Do it.”
I don’t mean to sound like a wimp, but the first time I was tied with rope, by the same guy who abandoned me in the bar, it hurt like hell and scared the crap out of me. I’d gotten accustomed to it since then, but Phil was nervous about things as they were. Dragging out the rope on day one would have freaked him out, and handcuffs would’ve sent him into hiding. But silk, even cheap silk, is like a friend giving you a hug.
“Okay,” I said, once I had his wrists bound. “Try to get loose.” Phil shrugged and said he didn’t want to tear the tie. I told him it was cheap, so go for it. He started twisting a little, then a little more. I think he thought he’d be able to slide out of the knots in seconds flat. Soon his arms and his shoulders were twisting, jerking, trying to get free. I love to watch somebody in movies or real life struggling and straining to free themselves from bondage, and Phil was starting to put on a show.
I asked him how he felt, and he said it was great! I told him that he was “fuckin’ mine now,” rubbing against his body and feeling his cock get harder. I pushed him face up on the bed and took off his tennis shoes and socks. When he started complaining and whining, I told him to shut up or I’d gag him, and I stretched a tie across his lips to make my point.
“Okay! Okay! That’s cool. I’m quiet,” he said.
I told him to relax, and that I was just going to tie his feet so he wouldn’t go anywhere. Putting one ankle over the other, I used the longest tie and bound his feet with a cinch knot, and invited him to get loose if he could. Now his hands and feet were tied up, and Phil was starting to appreciate his new position in life.
Phil started giggling while I was tying his feet, and I realized he was ticklish. Better and better. I gave the soles of his feet a tickle workout, giving him the kootchy-koo treatment there and on his hard stomach muscles. I opened his shorts all the way for better access, and let him have it. Phil twitched and jerked on the bed until his laughs nearly became screams. I let him beg me, then I kept it up a little longer until I was satisfied. My cock pushed against my underwear and pants, aching to meet Phil.
“You know, I could keep this up all night, and there’s not a frigging thing you can do about it. Know why?” I asked, running a fingernail down the middle of his torso and eliciting a hoarse chuckle.
“Because I’m all tied up,” he said, still trying to twist out of the ties.
“And you love it,” I said, more a question than a statement.
“And I love it,” he said, sincerely, with a smile on his face.
It was getting dark, and I lit a couple of candles to set the mood, then I took a red bandanna from the dresser drawer, folded it diagonally, and rolled it up. “I’m gonna gag you anyway,” I said, trying to comfort him a bit. “Just to see how you look. I won’t make it too tight this time, I promise.” Phil wasn’t crazy about it, but he accepted the bandanna between his lips, moaning softly. I just tied a couple of overhand knots behind his head.
I hopped on the bed and kneeled over Phil’s midsection, with his crotch between my legs. Phil had stopped squirming and twisting from side to side, and seemed to be getting into this as much as I’d wanted him to. I tickled him a little more, on his stomach, and then I let my fingers rest on his groin.
His mouth was stuffed with a spit-wet bandanna, but he still croaked out “oh shit, shit,” when I cupped my hands on his balls and squeezed. Even through Phil’s pants, I could feel his cock getting harder until it was like a rock. A long rock.
I didn’t take my eyes off Phil’s face while I unzipped his fly and dug through the slot in his underwear, fishing for his cock. Phil twisted helplessly, but I had his cock in my hands, and it was time to let my friend know just what I thought of him. I started pumping my buddy’s cock with one hand, until he was moaning steadily. I applied the other hand on his chest, rubbing the hair between his pecs and rubbing his nipple between my fingers. I told him to relax and let me do all the work.
Releasing his nipple, I got my own dick out of my pants and started some serious play with myself, except I wasn’t just playing around. I sat on Phil’s thighs and pressed our cocks together, working both of them with my hands while Phil pumped his pelvis under me.
Phil came first, shooting on my pants and his while crying out through the gag. Some of his cum hit my hand, and I wiped it on his stomach. I came with a groan and shot across his torso, then I just lay on top of his bound bod for awhile. I removed his gag with my mouth and fucked his mouth with my tongue, and wished that someone else had been there to tie me up alongside Phil. But I can dream can’t I? So I lay there in the dark, watching Phil’s bound body highlighted in the candlelight. I untied him and we fucked each other’s brains out.
Afterwards, Phil took the ties and started tying my hands and feet, and I let him, thinking it was only fair. But he really tied me tight, then he jumped into his cummy clothes and dared me to yell out and have everyone see me tied up, and he left! The little fuck! It took me almost 15 minutes before my hands were free, but at least he blew out the candles.
Speaking of candles, they became a big part of our bondage experiments, but more about that later. Phil was warming up to being a bondage boy. My bondage boy, of course. We could talk about it and do it with each other, but even the other gay guys on campus didn’t know about the ties that bound Phil and me, even after I finally dragged Phil, kicking and screaming to a GayStudents’ meeting.
But our best meetings were between the two of us, in my room. We’d talk for hours about being gagged and the feeling of being bound and trust and all. And every time we had one of our long talks, I tied up Phil in one position or another, using the ties we’d bought or sometimes adhesive tape.
My single room wasn’t very large, but we’d improvise. He was always barefoot in our sessions, since Phil seemed to develop a thing for having his feet tickled while he was tied up. Sometimes I’d strip him down to his underwear before tying him to a chair or binding him to the bed post by his wrists, or forcing him to crawl on his belly under my desk while his hands and feet were tied up, then I’d tie his ankles to the desk and sit at the desk and do homework while rubbing my feet up and down his body. And unless I needed the desklight, we always did bondage by candlelight. Something about a candle flame turned us on.
And something about a candle flame nearly got Phil in trouble, but it led to a great night. I liked burning candles in my room, but at least I was careful. Meanwhile, Phil and his roommate had so many candles going in their room that the smoke actually stained the ceiling in a corner of the room. Our floor advisor suggested that they clean it up or they’d lose their housing deposit big time. I walked by their room and saw John and Phil scrubbing their ceiling. It was a pleasant sight because both of them had their shirts off and were working so hard they were sweating.
I hadn’t seen Phil sweat before. It looked great on him, especially when he raised his arms over his head to scrub the ceiling and his shiny skin stretched across his ribs and stomach. He had on an old pair of jeans but nothing else, and as he stood on the bed and stretched for the ceiling, I knew I wanted him stretched on my bed, my way, in bondage. Besides, he vandalized his room and deserved punishment for being a bad boy. John could have used some bondage, too, but he didn’t share our passion for male skin.
It didn’t take much to coax Phil down to my room after John toweled off and departed for a game of hall hockey. I told him he was going to be suitably tortured for wrecking his room, and I peeled out of the tank top I was wearing. Almost before he knew what was happening, I spun Phil around and pressed him against the door and used my shirt to tie his wrists good and tight behind his back. Phil bitched and moaned and tried escaping, but there was just enough fabric to keep his wrists tied.
When I opened the door, he nearly lost it at the thought of being seen tied, and being half-naked in the company of the half naked guy who tied him, but I didn’t care anymore about Phil’s fears.
“Sometimes, you’ve just gotta say what the fuck,” I told Phil as I pushed him into the hallway and toward my room down the other corridor. After all, this was a college dorm and guys walked around half dressed all the time, so no one took notice of us, even though Phil was blushing seven shades of red from the waist up. I kept an eye on his bound wrists, so that even as he struggled, he couldn’t free himself.
We reached my room, and I pushed Phil inside and on the bed. He managed to wriggle his wrists free and started laughing about it, but by then I’d gotten the ties from the dresser. We got into a good sweaty wrestling match, which Phil lost when I tied his wrists again. Phil said something like oh no, not again, which was the last thing he said for awhile because I took the tank top and gagged him with it.
The wrestling match took some of the fight out of him, so he let me remove his pants and underwear without a struggle. Pulling him to the edge of the bed, I spread his legs and used two ties to bind his ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed. I pounced on him and gave his hard dick a lick or five, which seemed to relax and turn him on. But this wasn’t the punishment I had in mind for Phil, so I released his hands and tied them to the bedposts, spread wide.
I climbed off the bed and lit a couple candles while Phil twisted and flexed in place, testing the knots and finding them more than a little secure. Even with the gag, he had this blissed out look on his stud puppy face, and the candlelight outlined the taut contours of his body like magic. I started milking his cock while my other hand explored some of those stretched out contours, and I told him about the filthy things I was planning to do with his body that night, which served him right for being a dorm vandal. With my tongue, I lapped up the last of the sweat that was evaporating on his body, pausing to graze in the pubes that covered his jewels and curled up to meet the hair around his navel. I started slapping his stomach and his cock around until I knew it had to hurt, but he simply moaned with each blow and writhed hungrily. I’d always thought he was cute, but I don’t think I realized how dead on sexy he was until that moment.
Something weird grabbed my mind while I watched Phil. I took one of the candles and held it close to Phil’s face, letting the glow illuminate his gagged face. I asked him if he trusted me, and the look he gave me as he nodded nearly made me marry the guy. I smiled, looked at the candle then looked at Phil, and I think he figured out what I had in mind because he started flinching away, but I stroked his shoulder and promised not to hurt him. Much.
Gently, I tipped the candle and let the drops of hot wax drip on his stomach, between his rib cage and navel. It was like watching a delayed reaction on Phil. A drop hit him, and a second later Phil winced and groaned through the gag, gyrating a little more and a little more as each drop kissed his skin. I took the other candle in hand and continued the wax torture, getting really turned on as I let a few drops fall on Phil’s groin, right next to his hard cock. That brought a scream out of Phil and I was afraid I’d hurt him. I flashed him a look, but he had that blissed out look on his face again, and his cock was as hard as ever.
He fought against the knots in the ties that held him to the bed. I’d tied the tie around his wrist and tied the other end to the bed post, so he had some room to writhe and work that body. Watching him struggle was such a rush that I had to put one of the candles back on its stand so I could work my throbbing meat.
Phil continued to thrash on the bed while I dropped wax on his thighs and chest, and let a few drops fall on his cock and balls. He really screamed when I held the candle over his belly button and started filling the cavity. I was getting off doing this to my friend because I love him, but I was also enjoying a feeling of power over him, even if it was only temporary. And Phil seemed to enjoy being controlled, letting me take command and submitting to me more or less voluntarily. As much as he was fighting the bondage and maybe fighting the feeling, anyone could see that he was in love with being a bondage boy. My bondage boy.
Soon there was a dotted line of hardened wax running from the middle of Phil’s chest to his thigh, with local stops on his cock, his shoulders and arms, and a few drops on his feet. He looked incredible, and I knew that we’d be doing this again. I removed the gag and made sure he was okay, and Phil answered with the hottest kiss I’d gotten to that date. I stripped naked and fell on top of him, merging with the wax, worshipping and fondling his body, and making him service mine by sucking my cock. I untied him so we could fuck and make hot, nasty love, pushing it to the limit but keeping it safe.
Phil and I had been friends and now lovers for four months by then, and while we were both hiding in the closet to the rest of the world, we had a great private world, and for the moment that was just about enough. Later in the evening I tied his hands, and fondled and tongued his feet and toes for awhile, but eventually I released him and we slept together in each other’s arms. Just slept. Sleeping with a man is a treasure, whether you’re tied up or not. Around 4 am, I woke Phil up for a kiss, then we took a long, tough shower, scrubbing off the last of the wax and sealing our friendship. We’ve been together now for eight years and counting. Drop by if you want to borrow a cup of candles.
I hope they're still together and still doing bondage!
Posted by: Robert | August 28, 2013 at 09:52 AM
Hi! This post could not be written any better! Reading this post reminds me of my good old room mate! He always kept talking about this. I will forward this post to him. Pretty sure he will have a good read. Thank you for sharing!
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Posted by: watch.ablazenet.org | November 06, 2013 at 09:25 AM