Bob Wingate's Blog

Two Leatherbound Straight Guys

I always loved the rare stories that came in from straight guys about their bondage adventures with other guys, leading me to believe that some guys are homosexual, some heterosexual, and some bondagesexual. This story appeared in Issue 62 (Jan/Feb 1998). The illustration was by Sean.

 

MARRIED DAD IN LEATHER BOUND & FUCKED BY MARRIED DAD IN LEATHER

 

DORCHESTER, MA. My personal preference is leather bondage without the mind game of major pain and humiliation. Being bound spread eagle in a doorway by a hot leatherman is my idea of an intense time. Here’s what happened to me recently.

Bondage Photos from the B&G Files - 5

Unlike the majority of photos in the last batch I posted, these show extreme bondage in very heavy gear. The curious thing is that they were among the first photos I ever received from a reader of Bound & Gagged. They came within the first few years of publication, when the magazine was still coming out in digest size, long before most people imagine such heavy bondage was being done by anyone. I've published some if not all of these in the past, but now I'll post them all. I've tried to put them in order, with limited success. 

Brotherly Love

I'd hoped to find a 4th of July story to post here today—I'm sure I've got one somewhere—but no such luck. On the other hand, I did find a nice story about an American family, if not "The American Family," and that's kind of what this holiday is all about…isn't it? This story appeared in Issue 70 [May, 1999], and refers to a time when pretty much everyone smoked. It comes with a wonderful illustration by the late artist Sean—several readers have asked for more of those—who was always so scrupulous about getting every little detail right.

 

YOUNG MAN FALLS VICTIM TO THE PERILS OF LEATHER, TOBACCO AND MASTURBATION

 

My dad is a very affectionate man. More than most I’d say. My favorite hugs as a young boy were those I got after he’d been out for a Sunday afternoon ride on his bike with “the guys.” He’d come in the door, scoop me up and ask, “How’s my little buddy?” I’d hug him tight and bury my face in his shoulder. Looking back, I remember the feel, sound and sweaty, smoky aroma of his leather jacket as it was against my face. As a teenager, I realized my older brother’s jacket aroused me much the same as dad’s jacket did back then.