In my original intro to this piece in the manuscript of my unpublished book of Bound & Gagged experiences, I wrote: "I’m not convinced that this actually happened to the writer, but he sent it in as a letter, and on the assumption that everything one writes is autobiographical... Hell, consider it a fantasy. Hell, just consider it a good story." All these years later, I still see no reason to change that introductory note.
A MEMORABLE EXPERIENCE
The gym I was going to in New Jersey used to stay open till midnight or later, but generally only the most serious bodybuilders were seen there after 10 o'clock. They were very straight, I thought.
One night, when I was running behind my usual schedule and in a hurry to leave, I knew I was one of the last guys in the place. While I was starting to dry off in the locker-room after a hot shower, I remembered I had left my locker key in the weight room. Doubting whether anyone was still around, I wrapped the wet towel around my waist and went out, barefoot and dripping wet, to the workout area to look for it.
There it was. It had been kicked into a corner behind the incline bench, and I had to kneel on the bench to reach for it.
The key was almost in my grasp when I suddenly felt a rope being coiled once, twice, three times around my ankles and tied tightly with a quick but firm knot. I struggled to regain my balance on the bench, and, twisting around, saw that real big fellow whom I knew only as “Lou” standing behind me in his sweatsuit. He had used an old worn jump-rope to bind my bare feet together, and I felt pretty ridiculous as its wooden handle dangled limply from my ankles. I felt ridiculous, that is, until Lou ran one of his big sweaty hands over the wet towel that just barely covered my ass.
“Hey man,” I gasped, “what d’ya think you’re doing?” Big Lou only leered back at me.
I was just about to hide my embarrassment by cussing at the bruiser, when somebody much stronger than me came up behind me and grabbed both my wrists. Before I knew what was happening, he had twisted my arms behind my back. One glimpse of the “U.S. MARINES” tattoo on his massive biceps, and I knew it was that buddy of Lou’s who always worked out with him. I didn’t know his name, but he had one of the best bodies at the gym, and I had been hot for him since the first night I laid eyes on him.
"What d'ya wanna do, Lou?" the Marine asked his workout partner with a voice that sent a chill down my wet back.
Lou, who was out of the Navy less than a year and loved to talk about it, for once said nothing. With one hand he was holding my bound ankles, and after thinking a while—it seemed forever—he reached into his duffle bag with his free hand and pulled out his worn jockstrap. He yelled to someone out in the locker room.
“Hey, Gary! C’mere!” he shouted, and an enormous stud I had never seen before appeared in the doorway, dressed head-to-foot in shiny black motorcycle leathers.
“AW RIGHT!” Gary bellowed as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from the loop on his studded belt, the same kind of heavy-duty cuffs the cops always carry.
When Gary slipped the handcuffs around my wrists behind my back, his skin-tight leather pants brushed against me, and a double sensation of terror and pleasure ran through my trembling body. At the same moment, Lou tossed his jockstrap to the brawny, tattooed Marine, who stuffed the knitted crotch part into my mouth and twisted its two leg-straps around my ears so that I couldn’t even try to spit it out.
I was now sitting on the bench, my feet bound with the rope, my hands cuffed behind my back, gagged and surrounded by those three powerful hunks.
That was the first time I got a really good look at the muscular Marine. He was still wearing his gym shorts, T-shirt and sneakers, but his bulging basket and those enormous pecs of his now looked bigger and more threatening than ever before.
Gary, the leatherman, pushed me to a standing position facing Lou and his Marine buddy. I was still dripping wet from the shower, and the water on the jump-rope made it get even tighter around my ankles. With one quick jerk, Lou ripped the wet towel off me, and threw it across the weight room. I stood before them—bound, helpless and naked.
“So, Brad, I’m getting a spare tire, ugh?” Lou said with a mocking voice. He was still mad, I guess, because I had made some wisecrack earlier that evening while we were doing situps together, about how he was putting on some weight around the middle. Now his tight body with its massive muscles bulging through his sweats made me regret my stupid remark. But with his jock gagging my mouth I could say nothing.
The embarrassment should really have been theirs, because butch bodybuilders who pretend to be straight just don’t tie up and strip down other guys in public places like that. But when those three studs saw my good-sized cock standing up between my legs, hard and straight, it betrayed how much I was turned on by a gay bondage scene. They must have guessed as much long before, and now everyone knew it for sure. They KNEW I really wanted it!
“We’re gonna have some fun with you, fag,” one of them said, and all three guys laughed as they stared at my throbbing dick.
Then Lou pushed me back down onto the incline bench, and the Marine threw one of his bare legs over me and sat across my helpless thighs with all his weight. Gary used the key on his belt loop to unlock my handcuffs just long enough to force my arms down below the bench and to relock the cuffs again underneath it. With me locked onto the bench itself, the big leatherman continued to sit on me, rubbing the same key back and forth across my bare tits, while Lou retied the jump-rope in such a way that my ankles were lashed to the legs of the bench itself.
As I lay there bound and gagged on the bench, and as my pecker stood at attention with juice beginning to drip down its stiff shaft, a couple other guys came into the weight room from the raquetball court next door. Gary got up off me and stood to one side so that everyone could have a better look at their helpless captive. A few of them laughed nervously, but I could see each of them rubbing his crotch in excitement. Especially that big Marine.
Most of the fellows there that night had seen me before in the locker room, but of course they never had such a good view of my body before that. I’ve got a pretty well-developed physique after several years of serious weight-training, and all the guys seemed to enjoy watching my muscles flex against the improvised restraints.
Lou, the hunk who had started it all, pulled an extra pair of long, white sneaker laces from his gym bag and wound one of them tightly around and around on my rigid cock. He wrapped the whole length of it and tied a knot with the lace just below the dripping head of it. The other lace he wrapped around the base of my balls. Winding tighter and tighter coils around them, he made my balls stand straight out from my aching groin. Then Lou tied the ends of the white lace together with one more loop around my trussed up cock.
By now there were drops of my pre-cum juice all over the place, and the laces binding my cock and balls were getting wetter by the minute. For a while the guys took turns playing with my helpless pecker, until I would have begged them to let me come if I didn’t have that jock gag in my mouth.
But eventually Big Lou took charge again. He untied the jump rope around my ankles and used his powerful arms to hoist my feet over my head. He tied the rope around my ankles one more time and then lashed them to the top-end of the bench, so that I lay there folded over with my knees pressed into my shoulders and gagged face staring up between my knees. My bare ass, snow-white in contrast to the dark tan all over the rest of my naked body, was high in the air.
“O.K., make it glow!” Lou barked to Gary, the leatherman. And Gary removed his studded belt and whipped the daylights out of my defenseless ass until the cheeks must have been a cherry red. The other guys cheered him on as they watched him eagerly.
Then came the inevitable. The Marine dropped his gym shorts to his knees and pulled the biggest piece of meat I’ve ever seen from his sweaty jock. It seemed as long as a barbell and felt every bit as hard. With his hot hands he spread my ass cheeks apart and started to shove the huge head of his cock into my unprotected asshole. Deeper and deeper, he forced his way into me.
The Marine was halfway home when suddenly a loud bell rang through the whole gym. Those of us who sometimes stayed till closing time knew it was the signal the Manager gave every night just before he locked up, wanting everyone to get out. The Marine nervously pulled his giant dick out of me, and I sighed from the relief, though the pain lingered.
But before I knew it, the other guys were all running out of the weight room, to grab their clothes, to shut their lockers, and to get out of there.
Lou flipped the light switch on the wall, and the weight room went dark except for the dim light coming in through the door from the locker room. They all disappeared within a few minutes, and then the gym was as quiet as a prison cell. Cold, dark, absolutely quiet.
The Manager found me, still hopelessly bound to the bench, the next morning. But that's another story...
