Again We Meet

Even though he had been intimate with Richard before on more than one occasion, Brian felt nonetheless hesitant, inhibited as they entered Richard's house for an afternoon of long overdue pleasure. It had been more than a year since their last meeting, a year wherein Brian had been physically abstinent but mentally charged up, his mind often playing out his fantasies with his only fuck buddy. Over the last year his hesitations and inhibitions had crept back into him, sometimes strongly. He had discussed this with Richard, discussed more importantly his fantasies with him, fantasies Brian hoped would help alleviate the inhibitions if acted upon. And though Brian felt a little awkward with his fantasies, he trusted Richard and knew he would be willing to play them out, to help Brian overcome his weakness towards sex.

Both of them were more than ready for an evening of mutual cock pleasure, exacerbated by the fact that, on the trip up to Richard's, neither felt the others' cock. They only vocalized their desires and wishes. Once inside, though, the hesitation both of them felt or practiced on the drive quickly vanished. With no words, Richard shut and locked the door, then moved quickly to Brian, pressing his body against him to the wall, where they locked mouths and explored each other briefly. Brian felt Richard take his hand and move it to Richard's cock, already hard, as was Brian's own. He rubbed it through Richard's pants, felt it swell in his hand, the cock he missed so and couldn't wait to see, to taste. But Richard pulled back a moment and took Brian's shirt off, letting it fall on the floor beside the door. He looked at him and placed another kiss on his lips, then said, in almost a whisper, "You don't need that shirt on. Come upstairs with me," and he led Brian by the hand up to the bedroom.

Brian looked at the bed a moment and saw that Richard indeed would want to play out his fantasies, fantasies he had written about, fantasies that made Brian's cock drip as he wrote them and Richard made masturbate as he read them. On the bed Brian saw two ropes and what would serve as a makeshift blindfold. The sight made his cock seem to swell all the larger. But just as the sight seemed to overwhelm him, Richard leaned against the wall facing the bed and turned Brian towards him. Brian saw that Richard's pants were unbuttoned, unzipped, and that he was taking his shirt off.

"Want my cock, Brian?' Richard asked, and Brian could only answer with his eyes a pleading yes. "Get on your knees, then. Get my cock out and into your mouth." Was this how it would be played? With Richard giving commands and Brian obeying them? One on level Brian felt a little silly, shy, embarrassed, but at the same time an excitement surged through him. This was what he wanted—to let loose, to explore his visceral instincts, to let himself be taken, used, to become wrapped in pleasure as well as become the object of another's pleasure. As all this passed through his head, it seemed that all his inhibitions subsided, and he was overwhelmed by intense feelings that flowed through him. He got on his knees and fumbled for a second trying to reach Richard's cock. He pulled Richard's pants down revealing his hardness—the cock he desired so, the cock he fantasized about and masturbated over quite frequently. It stood in front of him, erect, waiting to be tasted, but as Brian moved his mouth to it, Richard pushed his head back a second so he could step out of his pants—Richard wanted him to wait a moment more, let the passion build. He watched Brian as Brian kept his eye on the manhood in front of him. When off, Richard leaned back against the wall and took Brian's head between his hands."You can taste my cock now," he said, and led Brain's mouth to him.

Then Brian had his mouth around Richard's cock—at Richard's will. For a moment, Richard's Will was all that crossed through his head. He leads my mouth to his cock . . . he wants to fuck my mouth. But the moment passed, and most of what he thought was that there—there was the cock he had waited to suck, and his mouth felt what he could never quite put in words. The taste of it, the feeling that he was giving pleasure as only a man knew how; and the taste, the taste of his forbidden, erect flesh in his mouth pushing against his throat as the juices begin to slowly leak out. He wanted it, and began to suck harder, faster, taking his whole cock in. Richard looked down and saw Brian kneeling in his jeans, enjoying himself as he gave Richard a blowjob. A smile crossed Richard's face as his own cock felt wrapped in warmth and pleasure, as he waited for Brian to do what was natural: Grab his own cock.

It only took a couple of minutes before Brian started fumbling around in his pants for his cock while intently continuing to suck his friend. When Richard saw this, he pushed Brian back from him. "No, no," he said. "You cannot touch yourself. Only I can touch you right now." He saw that Brian was internally writhing, his hand only hesitantly—very hesitantly—moving away from his own cock as he continued to stare at Richard's. "No? You don't think you can go on without pleasuring yourself?" he asked. "So, you're a bad boy, eh? And what do we do to bad boys?" Brian said nothing—could say nothing. Richard, in the other hand, spoke in action, pulling up Brian by the hands and leading him to the bed. "You lay here."

Brian did as told. He would do as told. He wanted to do as told. He laid on the bed; Richard straddled his chest (what a view Brian had!), lifted his arms up and tied them to the bed posts. He got off of Brian's chest and admired briefly his heavy breathing. Brian admired Richard's naked body, his cock hard and dripping in front of him. "Like what you see?" he asked his bound buddy. Brian nodded. "Then take it into your mind, because you won't see it for a little bit," and with that, took the makeshift blindfold and placed around Brian's head.

Brian laid there mesmerized, desperately wanting to touch his cock, desperately wanting to shoot his cum. He knew it wouldn't take long, and if he could only touch it, it might only be a few short moments before he blew his load. But not only could he not touch his cock, neither was he undressed yet. Richard had left him partially clothed before tying him up—something Brian had mentioned once in an email. Now Brian felt torn—wanting to touch his cock and cum for Richard, and wanting the moment to last forever, his laying bound at the control of another. What was Richard looking at, Brian wondered. He soon felt a tug at his leg, and his jeans were off. He laid there in his underwear, feeling bound not by the ropes, but bound by the underwear. He squirmed as much as he could in his position, his hips slightly buckling, wanting nothing more than to be out of his briefs, to be laid out bare for his afternoon lover to see, to admire.

Richard knew what Brian felt and whispered, "It's not that easy, Brian." Be began to touch Brian's cock with his fingertips, running them along the shaft slowly, lightly, down to the balls, which he cradled a second. Brian could then feel Richard's mouth follow his shaft through the underwear, and he squirmed all the more, letting out a pathetic sigh that might be interpreted as, "Get me out of these things, please!" A little while longer with the mouth tease, and Brian felt weight leave the bed. Then Richard's fingers were around the elastic, and finally—finally—Brian felt free. Once in the open air, his cock jumped, as if to say thank you. It continued to jump involuntarily, with every movement in the room and with every thought that raced through his head. He could feel his own precum over his belly, then he could feel Richard playing with it with his finger. "That is so sexy, Brian," Richard reassured. He grabbed Brian's cock and stroked slowly, forcing a little more precum to drip from his swollen tool. But then Brian felt what he considered almost to be ball torture. No pain—just very light fingertips caressing his scrotum, teasing the light hairs that covered it. He buckled with the feelings that overwhelmed not only his balls, but his entire body. Richard saw Brian's body quiver so, and quit so that he could lean over and kiss his dick along the shaft, from the head to the base, before resuming his "ball torture."

Richard enjoyed watching Brian as much, if not more, than Brian enjoyed the sensation, and as he toyed with his buddy, he played with his own cock a little. Soon he could feel himself getting close—not too close, but the very beginnings of the pressure that builds in one's loins—and as the precum started to ooze slowly from him, he straddled once again Brian's chest. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue a little," he ordered, and Brian did as told. Richard leaned forward and placed the tip of his cock on Brian's tongue. "You like that?" Brian tried a uh-huh. "You'll like this then," Richard said, and began to pat Brian's tongue with his cock. Brian could feel the precum splash onto his face. His cock leaped helplessly to and fro, and he wanted Richard to return to it, to reassure it, let it ease a little. But Richard wasn't ready for that, nor was he ready to cum, Brian discovered as Richard got off of him and off of the bed. He had thought that perhaps Richard would cum there on him, then proceed to do what he wanted to with him. Yet Richard did not cum.

In the dark behind the blindfold, Brian didn't know what Richard was doing. He lay and listened to the room, hoping for a clue, but heard nothing. He wondered if Richard had left the room. But Richard had not; he stood at the end of the bed looking at his prize. Richard had been waiting long for Brian, and now that he had him, he would take a moment to visually enjoy it, to let the image sink deep into his thoughts. Brian brought a camera with him, Richard remembered—now he could memorialize the scene in a more concrete manner. It was something Brian wanted anyway, had vocalized before; he enjoyed posting his photos online—exhibitionism had been a turn on for him for years, as soon as he found that people were willing to watch him jack off online. Richard knew of Brian's hobby and had seen the photos before, which had always led to a horny session alone, often with thoughts similar to what was happening this afternoon. He left to walk downstairs and found Brian's camera.

Sitting in the silence had driven Brian quite mad—the wondering what would happen next, the strong feeling of arousal he had from laying there bound, being looked at, the stronger feeling of his cock pulsing involuntarily, sometimes shooting a quick load of precum over his belly. It ran in smooth lines down either side of him, slowly, hauntingly erotic. Soon he finally heard something: the sound of an electronic. He knew it was the camera; Richard would indulge him his secret pleasure, a pleasure that only Richard and another, a young lady, knew. Brian had wanted so long for this to happen—to be photographed bound, so he could show it off to the world in another bold move into sexual freedom. The sound of the camera made his cock, which had slowly began to lessen in intensity during Richard's absence, come again to full attention, and it was then he heard the first snap.

Richard saw the pleasure underneath the blindfold. "You like this?" he asked. Brian affirmed. "You like me being in control, eh?" Again affirmation. "You're my little bitch, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'm your bitch." Brian felt something close to his face. "Your cock . . . let me have your cock, please?"

"My little bitch wants cock, does he?" Brian already had his mouth opened a little, so Richard gave him a taste. Brian's tongue lashed out to taste further, but Richard stepped back and took another photo. Brian's legs moved back and forth, his feet scraping the bed. "You want my cock then do you? Richard repeated, but before Brian could answer, he grabbed his head and placed his cock in all the way and held it there. Brian could feel the hairs on his mouth, his belly beyond the blindfold. When he felt Brian start to gag, Richard stepped back and took another photo before once again placing his cock deep into Brian's mouth. He then placed his cock at Brian's lips and took another couple that way, to balance out the body shots he took. A few more shots of the body from various angles, and Richard decided to move to the next step. Indeed, the afternoon had his cock writhing also, so much so he wondered if might alleviate it some. He straddled Brian's chest and began to masturbate a little . . . slowly . . . over Brian's lips. Brian could hear a snap from the camera, then he heard Richard's breathing heighten, stop, start. "My little bitch want a taste?" Brian simply moaned a response. Would Richard cum? And if so, how long before he himself could—at Richard's disposal? Brian felt a smooth warm, stream dripping onto his face—not cum, not an outpouring, but a line of precum it was that reached him. Brian felt Richard's hands on either side of his head. Richard wouldn't cum, just let a little pressure off. He sat over Brian a moment to regain his composure, then said, "We need to loosen you p a little."

Brian knew what that meant. His ass was often tight—too tight, which caused him a little embarrassment. From under the bed, Richard pulled out a toy . . . not too large, but just the right size to loosen Brian up some before he moved to the finale. He went to the back of the bed, caressed Brian's legs a moment before spreading them apart. Brian felt a warm, slimy substance cover his cock (though Richard did not dare touch it!) then over his ass. He squirmed as he waited. Would this hurt? And would the hurt bring pleasure? He felt the tip of the toy caress his asshole a little; then Richard stuck it in—the tip, briefly, before felt the tip of the toy pulling it back out and gauging Brian's reaction. He looked wonderful, ready, willing. He placed it in again, a little above the tip, holding for a second before placing it all the way inside of him. As it moved in, Brian felt a large squirt of cum leave him; he did not cum totally, but let loose one nice sized load. Richard would not let him cum yet, so he stood back and took another couple of photos—of the toy protruding from him, of the load that left him. He decided to let it stay in him a little. A cock sucking was in order.

"My little bitch like this?" Affirm. "Let me fuck your mouth," he said, and placed his cock once again in Brian's mouth. Brian loved the sensation—the toy in his ass, the cock in his mouth—he felt overwhelmed, yet he felt unburdened. Richard's juices slid into Brian's mouth, adding to his feeling of being overwhelmed. Then the cock was gone and Brian heard a tearing of paper, felt Richard at the end of the bed, felt the toy leave him.

Brian felt Richard spread and bend his legs, then he felt it . . . Richard's cock . . . At first, he pulled from the sensation, but relaxed immediately and thrust his hips back slowly but firmly, letting Richard have him. I'm his bitch. "Fuck me, Richard, fuck me," Brian moaned as Richard fucked him, his cock deep inside.

Now Brian could hold out no longer, and Richard was on the precipice as well. Richard reached up and grabbed onto Brian's hands as they fucked harder. Not much longer, both thought, though neither expressed. Soon the sensations were too much and Brian felt himself begin to let loose. He wanted to grab his cock and help the release, but alas, impossible. Besides, the feeling of his cum leaving him without the aid of a hand or anything else around it heightened the feeling immensely. Richard, too, could last no longer, his feeling exacerbated by the muscles contracting around his cock. He too began to let loose.

"Fuck me Richard, fill me with your cum," Brian moaned as he felt Richard's cock pulse with his own. As they came, they fucked in unison; when finished, Richard lay atop of Brian and kissed him slowly as the feelings subsided.

Then Richard was off him and out of the room. Brian lay there a moment, feeling awkward (as he did after cumming), though that would soon leave. He heard water running. Richard must be cleaning himself off. Then he was back, and Brian felt warm water and a rag cleaning him off. "I take care of my little bitch," Richard said. Brian loved it. It was part of the game, part of the fantasy, that afterwards, after being dominant, the master would clean, take care of his bitch. Once clean, Richard began to release the ropes and take off the blindfold.

"Let's walk downstairs," he told Brian. "Yes," was all Brian could muster as a response, still overwhelmed by what he just experienced. They could hang downstairs, naked. Brian needed it. He felt the awkward feelings leaving him; he saw the cock he could thank for it. He saw the cock he would thank for it. Soon, Richard and his cock would be rewarded. Brian knew a little cock worship was in order to show his thanks. Richard knew it was cumming, Richard knew Brian's mouth would take him there . . . it was only a matter of waiting a little, waiting until Richard's beautiful cock once again got hard. And neither could wait.