To cut the tension of this last, pre-election weekend, with many of us dreading the world we will wake to Wednesday should the knownothing loudmouth boor of a sexist, racist, bigot win the White House where, as knowitall dictator with an openly homophobic vice president, he will make America Great Again, here's a great American story about more innocent times, when gas prices were low, the sky was blue, and paperboys on three-speed Schwinn bikes tossed newspapers onto green lawns and front porches every morning…
I can't believe I didn't read and publish this wonderful piece when I received it, back in 1999. It came from a correspondent I valued highly, who'd already written me several amazing letters describing his pre-pubescent self-bondage and self-abuse adventures, as well as about his early teen-age submission to an older teen master, all letters I had happily published. I would have been thrilled to push other stories aside to publish this one from him. But when I found it a few months ago I had no memory of ever having seen it before, and it's not the kind of story I would have forgotten, speaking as it does to so many of my personal fetishes and fantasies. I'm all the sadder because at the very satisfying end of Part 2 (which I'll post tomorrow) the writer, who self-identified as "essaraitch", offered to write me more on the subject, if I was interested. Take it from me, I would have been interested. If you're still around and reading this, essaraitch, I'm still interested!
The writer and I are roughly the same age, and to judge by what happened between him and the paperboy over fifty years ago, I'd say that today's young bondage-lovers, with all their bondage-specific equipment and toys, have nothing on the old-timers, who did the most amazing things to each other with only their lust and imagination for guides.
Do any of you, who grew up in seemingly happier times, have your own interesting bondage stories to tell? Or you millennials, if you still remember how to write, and have been tied up at any time in your young lives, do you care to tell me about it? Some of us still read, and for those who read this blog, all bondage stories are interesting. My email: [email protected]. Everything is published anonymously, unless you ask to be identified.
The Paperboy
Part 1
Due to my family’s financial circumstances, I was unable to go to college directly after high school. I decided to get a job and live at home to save money.
I got a job at a health club, and during remodeling they let me take home an old set of weights, a treadmill, and a bench which all went in our basement. I used them to good advantage to attain a pretty good physique that both I and other guys admired.
At the same fated time, my path was going to cross that of our paperboy, a really cute blonde who would be considered nowadays the typical blond California surfer, but this was upstate New York in 1959.
Our first contact was during the summer. Rob, his name, usually collected on Friday nights when my folks usually did the grocery shopping, leaving me home alone. Thus when Rob rang the doorbell I had to answer it. I was usually working out and during the summer, even in the cooler basement, worked up quite a sweat. Rob, on the other hand, generally appeared in a T-shirt (too small), or undershirt (in 1959 tank-tops were not the vogue, but these white things were obvious precursors), or even shirtless; a pair of shorts; and sneaks without socks as a rule.
He really presented a very cute picture that would cause me to sprout a woody through my workout shorts and jock—the ONLY things I wore for my exercising (no shirt, no footwear). This definitely was not lost on him. He’d smile, lick his lips; and I could see his bulge grow, too.
One week when he came to collect my folks didn’t leave any cash, and I hadn’t cashed my paycheck. As my erecting cock tented out my shorts, I told Rob that he’d have to come back next week as I watched his shorts fill out. Rob then suggested with a gleam in his eyes that there was another way I might be able to “pay” him for the newspaper! He invited himself in and asked where my bedroom was. We went to my room, and he sat down on my bed. He told me to stand facing him, hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of my shorts, pulled them down letting them drop to my ankles, and told me to step out of them. This left me standing directly in front of him wearing my jock over my then 6" boner and absolutely nothing else.
Rob did the same with my jockstrap, but this time after I stepped out of the sweat-soaked strap, he balled it up and stuffed the sodden wad in my mouth! I could taste my own sweat, piss, cum and shit residues from the fabric; and it was a wild turn-on.
Probably the strangest part of this to me was that by all standards I should be Rob’s superior. I was two years older (19, out of high school vs. 17, going into junior year of high school), taller (6'0" vis. 5'9"), heavier (185 vs. 165), physique (me: muscled, some dark hair on chest, stomach, legs, armpits, asscrack, crotch; him: slim, slightly toned, smooth except for very small tufts on pubes).
However, I always tended to be submissive, and this felt just so natural and good that I accepted my bottom role willingly.
I was then ordered by Rob to take off his sneaks and smell his pungent feet. He told me to remove my jock-gag and use my mouth, lips and tongue on his feet; sucking on his heels, kissing his insteps, lapping both soles, sucking each toe, licking between his toes, and taking the whole end of each foot in my mouth and swirling my tongue around it.
Rob was breathing very heavily now, as was I. He told me to stop working on his feet and to quickly strip off his shorts. He was not wearing anything underneath as evidenced by the huge wet spot on his shorts which was getting even bigger as his precum juiced out of the piss-slit of his hard-on clearly outlined by his snug shorts. Rob screamed and moaned that he couldn’t hold out much longer and ordered me to just wrap my hand around his 7" cockshaft and jerk him off. I did and he spurted onto his face, at least seven strong orgasmic pulses shooting Rob’s creamy, white, hot jizz onto his chest and stomach. I followed with a gut-wrenching climax without even touching my dick, with my spooge joining his on his torso.
He told me to mix them together and lick his body clean, which I willingly and eagerly did.
Rob arose and got dressed. He smiled at me and said that the paper was paid for in full. He added that similar arrangements could be made in the future if and whenever necessary. I smiled back and said I probably would take him up on his offer, to which he responded he hoped it would be soon and often—even if I did have the money to pay for the paper.
We both knew this was the start of a strange, wonderful, kinky relationship.
A couple of weeks later, Rob dressed as usual in a pair of too-small, tight shorts, no shirt, and sneaks with white, wool sweat socks, came to collect and TOLD me I didn’t have the money to pay! He ordered me up to my bedroom and to strip stark bare-ass naked. By the time he got into my bedroom (with his newspaper bag, which was highly unusual) I was sporting my usual 6" boner. He ordered me to lie down on my bed face down. Rob reached under my stomach where my now-oozing rod was trapped under my stomach and pulled it down so it was pointing toward my feet. He rolled up the blanket and wedged it under my body at my pubes to raise up my butt.
He went to his paperbag and brought over several pieces of clothesline rope. He tied my wrists together and in turn tied them to the center of my bedframe at the top of the bed. Rob took another length of rope, tied it around my right knee, pulled it to the right side of the bed, and secured it to the frame under the mattress on that side of my bed.
The procedure was repeated by Rob on my left leg, leaving me effectively spread-eagled on my bed in the form of an inverted “Y”, my hands and arms tied together above my head making the upright of the “Y”. Plus my butt was raised up in the air to expose my defenseless ass rosebud to Rob! He returned to his bag and showed me a tube of Brylcreem, a popular hair cream with guys in that time period.
I watched as Rob stripped off his shorts which by now clearly outlined his hard-on and large wet-spot at its tip. He raised both of my legs (bending them up at the knees) so my feet were up in the air near his face. Rob commenced to lick and suck my feet and toes all over, causing my cock to throb violently, and I knew I was juicing lots of precum all over my sheets.
He uncapped the tube of Brylcreem, squeezed a generous amount on his fingertips, rubbed it around them, and inserted one into my anus. I grunted slightly until I became used to the intrusion, then actually enjoyed it. This was followed by a second, and then a third digit. After about a half-hour of Rob’s manual stimulation of my sphincter, he put a large amount of the hair dressing on his rigid fuckstick, crawled onto the bed between my legs, and positioned his glans right at my ass-pucker. He slowly eased forward until his cockhead slid past my muscle ring and stopped. After a few minutes Rob began pushing inexorably forward. I felt his cockshaft impaled more deeply into my guts until all 7 or so inches was in me and his ballsac laid on my asscheeks.
Rob rested for a short while before he started fucking my ass, pulling out until just his cockhead was in me, then plunging the full length inside me. I used my ass muscles to clutch his tool as tightly as possible to increase both our pleasures. Very soon I could feel Rob’s penis pulse against the walls of my rectum signaling the release of his lovejuice into my willing, waiting, accepting body.
As he pulled out I could feel Rob’s cock-slime run down between my legs onto my sheets knowing I would taste the mix of his jism and my ass-mush sooner or later.
I was then told Rob wasn’t quite through because he was still horny (I noted he hadn’t gotten soft!) and could go for another fuck of my ass. I certainly had no objections. He untied my legs from the bedframe, flipped me over on my back, pushed my knees back to my chest, and tied the rope from each knee to the appropriate corner at the head of the frame; again leaving my cornhole defenselessly, deliciously exposed for his cock invasion. Needing no additional lube from my first fuck, Rob was up on the bed between my legs, cock poised at my gaping anus. With little fanfare the hard tool invaded my rectum and with no ceremony he stroked deeply in and out and proceeded to shoot another wad of his balljuice up my mancunt.
While still in me, waiting to soften, Bob wrapped his hand around my own now painful tool and jerked me off. His cock finally slipped out; he cleaned up, got dressed, retrieved his stuff and put it in his bag. He untied me and told me we’d get together again.
I knew neither of us could wait!
[To be continued]
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