I couldn't remember exactly how I got here. I lost some kind of bet with this guy I know. The "punishment" was this, my visit to this sex play room, hidden in a nondescript, industrial-looking building in a sketchy part of town. It's after dark and I thought twice about backing out, but the guy and I have known each other for a while, and a deal's a deal, we agreed.
I'm in a rather Spartan room with fairly dim lighting, but enough lighting that I can see everything going on. It has high ceilings -- probably about fifteen feet -- and the look of the walls and floors suggested it had seen its best days years ago. It looks like it was a warehouse of some sort.
In the middle of the floor is a very large, square netting -- with white, crisscrossed roping of the kind that basketball nets have, only thicker. These ropes, however, are more square in their positioning, rather than the kind of diamond pattern a basketball net would have. The roping is not as firm in texture, either -- it is actually quite soft - comfortable, even. And a layer of the netting about ten feet square is suspended by four posts in the corners.
The soft texture of the roping matters because I'm lying face down on it. I'm spread eagle, legs and arms extended all four ways. I'm in a black T-shirt and matching black khaki shorts. The fly is completed unzipped, and my penis -- currently erect -- hangs helplessly downward. As my arms are tied in place completely, including my hands, I can't reach my penis to do anything. In most respects I am pretty vulnerable.
Perhaps more vulnerable, however, is the subject of my lust. A cute, long-haired blond with a kind face and a slender build lays directly underneath me, perhaps one to two feet under. He, too, is tied down, but he is facing upward toward me.
He is wearing a black croptop that reveals three to four inches of his lovely, flat, hairless midriff, and in the middle of his stomach, his navel is showing -- a large, round innie, sort of shallow like a small shot glass, and at least the diameter of a quarter. The tip of my penis is pointed directly at his navel, my favorite sexual body part on a handsome male.
His navel is somehow operating a device wrapped around my penis that rotates around my shaft, masturbating me. It's a mystery how this works -- I can see no electronics or other apparatus -- but I love his navel and am very turned on by it, so I like that his innie is directly teasing my shaft.
My head and neck are forcibly positioned so I have to look at his navel and my penis above it. The rotating machine works slowly on my penis, and as I lustfully am turned on by his navel, it slowly and gradually begins to speed up.
The blond guy isn't just laying there. He's gently writhing as if he's trying to get away but it seems faked somehow. He may be doing it to turn me on. It's working.
I am looking, gazing, enjoying this blond's navel, seeing its contour and alluring depth, its size, and sensing its softness and warmth. I want so much to caress it, to touch it, to kiss it, but I can't. The tip of my penis is the closest to it by a few inches or so above it, but it's not touching the skin of his stomach.
