Strapped Tight

Whoever

Weak light was filtering into the window through the opening between the mismatched towels he'd used as curtains to try to close out the blinking neon sign of the Chinese restaurant below. They hadn't been effective; blinking red lighting had been bouncing all around the walls of the dingy little room since he and I had stumbled in here from the bar not long after midnight. I rather liked the effect, though. It had added a certain ambiance to the night's play.

It had been a long night. I'd have all weekend before I had to be back at work, but I had an appointment the next afternoon—no, this afternoon now—one that I'd spent a lot of effort and time setting up. I hoped I'd be up to the challenge. I always had been before, though.

Tonight had just been the spur of the moment. And I was a little worried, now that dawn had crept through the window, about what Mr. G would think, what he would do. I didn't normally stay out all night. And thinking about what he might do had me licking my lips and running my hands down my chest to my nipples.

I'd dropped into the bar for just one drink, but the rangy young man in a carpenter's belt and hard hat had squeezed in tight between me and another guy at the bar and had whispered to me that he'd heard about me via the grapevine and was it true? And if it was true, he'd pay for it.

I told him it was true, and if I went with him, he'd certainly pay for it, but that I didn't take money for what I did.

He'd been running his hands up under the hem of my shirt while we whispered. I saw an excited expression on his face and he licked his lips in anticipation when his hand found the rough leather strapping under my shirt.

As I said, it had been a long night. He was barely whimpering as I pulled out of him at the end of the last cocking—having only then become aware of just how long we had been at it, just how far into a new day we'd fucked. I rolled the black gloves off my hands and walked over and put them and the other paraphernalia in my briefcase. Then I went back and unbuckled the leather strappings around his thighs and calves and unbound his wrists from the top of the frame, and he just sort of collapsed in a puddle on the floor.

I turned, but he reached out and grabbed me by the ankle.

"Please, please. Can we do it again? Tonight? Please."

"Can't tonight," I said. "I have plans. Maybe sometime again. It was fun. Maybe I'll see you around."

He was still whimpering for me to set a date when I'd cleaned myself up and let myself out of his pathetically furnished two-room apartment over the Chinese restaurant. Tipping my hat to a surprised women on the stairs who was lugging a full laundry basket up from below, no doubt not accustomed to seeing a businessman in a well-tailored suit in her hallway early on a Saturday morning, I descended to the street and took a minute to get my bearings. I'd been pretty drunk when I came up here the previous night; otherwise, I wouldn't have been caught dead in this part of town.

He'd said he wanted to meet again. And he had taken it well and had a good, well-muscled body. The only problem is that I hadn't bothered to ask him what his name was.

* * * *

Chris, Round One

We were squeezed in close together in a booth in the shadows of the noisy, smoke-fogged bar. This wasn't really my kind of place, but Chris had suggested it as a place to meet for our first look at each other. At least it was conveniently located in the same block as my office building. We had conversed for some time on a chat line and had become more explicit in maybe hooking up when we discovered we lived near the same city.

I had honed in on him because he said he was in his early twenties and preferred more experienced men in their thirties who were still in good condition and were interested in topping younger men. That pretty much defined me. I got really interested when he said he'd been drawn to my profile because I had listed myself as eight inches. I had lied in that; I actually was a bit longer than that, but if I'd told the truth few would have believed my claim. And then I was hooked when he revealed that he was mildly interested in bondage.

So, here we were, scoping each other out in person. He proved to be a lithe, but well-muscled and model-handsome blond with rather nervous mannerisms. He was wearing a designer T-shirt and low-slung worn jeans and looked very much the early twenties that he had claimed to be. I was wearing brown, casual pants, a close-fitting off-white dress shirt, and a camel-tan jacket with leather elbows, and I could tell that he was pleased with what he saw when he was first guided to the table. I was also wearing tight-fitting, wide-strapped leather suspenders. Straps were very much my hallmark.

We engaged in small talk for a bit while we waited for a waiter, with me creeping ever closer to him along the vinyl bench. I was up close to him, with my arm around him and my fingers stroking one of his nipples through his shirt when he zeroed in on the question of whether I really was eight inches. When I told him the truth, I could feel him trembling under the palm of my hand. He expressed disbelief, and I gave him permission to find out himself, right then and there. His hand went to my fly below the table surface, and he lowered the zipper to my pants and rolled out my hose. I could hear the intake of breath and feel his tremors increase as he found out that I had told the truth.

I hadn't told him what I really liked, though. I wondered if I should tell him or just let him find out for himself. The waiter appeared, a pert young man, short of stature, but very well built and with freckles and golden-red hair that would have hung to his shoulders if he didn't have it tied up in a pony tail. He could tell in an instant what Chris and I had going on under the table top, but this was that kind of bar, so he just gave me a shy little grin as he took our orders. Chris ordered a domestic draft beer, and I ordered a martini.

As soon as the waiter disappeared, Chris sank under the table and had the head of my dick between his lips. He ran his tongue around my glans, at the rim and pushed at my piss slit with the tip of his tongue. After a bit of this, with my cock responding by beginning to harden, he took in about four inches of me and squeezed his mouth tight over my rod. It was time for me to give him a taste of what I expected, what turned me on. I wrapped my legs around his back tightly and grabbed his head between my inner thighs. I reached into the pocket of my jacket and took out a leather strap from a shoulder bag, one with padding where the strap would rest on the shoulder. I wound the ends of the strap around my fists and brought it over his head, as it was being tightly squeezed between my thighs, and lowered the padded shoulder pad to the back of Chris's neck, where his neck met the base of his skull, and pulled his head into my crotch.

I held him close there, guiding his mouth up and down with the pressure on the leather strap, and ever deeper on my cock, which had sprung to life when I had taken control. This tight closeness was what I liked, what I responded to sexually.

The waiter returned with our drinks and didn't seem at all surprised not to see Chris sitting beside me. I could tell he wasn't fooled into thinking that Chris was off in the men's room either. He took a little longer than normal in setting our drinks down and gave me that shy little smile again while I was busy face-fucking Chris under the table and trying to keep a straight face myself. The waiter turned and left, and I swear that he twitched his bulbous butt at me while he walked off.

Despite some gurgling and gagging, Chris sucked me off quite expertly and I released the pressure on the strap. He licked my cock clean, rolled my long dick back into my fly, and zipped me back up before he reappeared at my side. He was grinning, and his eyes sparkled. He took a swig of beer and then turned to me. His hand went to my stomach, where he pulled my shirt up out of my pants and laid his palm gently on my flat belly. My arm went around his shoulders closely again and my fingers returned to tracing his now-very-erect nipple through his T-shirt.

I felt a little shudder go through his body as his hand glided up to my sternum and he found I had a leather strap criss-crossing my chest and meeting at a round metal ring under my shirt.

"Man oh man, that was great," he said. "You are all that your e-mails promised."

"Is that it then?" I asked. "Have you had enough, or do you want all of that up your ass as well?"

"Yes, oh yes, please. I've taken it deep before. No problem."

I wondered if he would think it had been no problem when I'd done to him what I planned to do.

"And you wouldn't have trouble with a little leather work either?" I asked.

He hesitated ever so slightly and his hand was trembling, but he didn't say that was off limits, and there had been hints of this in our on-line exchanges. If he'd said it was, if he belied the interest he'd hinted at in the e-mails, this would be the end of our encounters.

"So, should we set a date for that?" I asked.

"Today. Now," he responded, becoming even more trembly, like an excitable thoroughbred racehorse. "Well, not right here, of course. But somewhere more convenient. One of the stalls in the men's—"

"I prefer more privacy," I said, moving my free hand to his basket and tracing his straining cock through his tight jeans. He moaned for me in appreciation at the attention. "And a form of . . . mild confinement. You'd indicated that appealed to you. Were you telling the truth about that?"

"Yes, oh yes," Chris said, and he was licking his trembling lips with a sense of danger and excitement. My hand left his nipple and gently took the side of his head and guided his lips to mine. We kissed in something that started sweet and ended somewhat more brutal and insistent, with me asserting total control, my fingers digging into his hair and cheek, and him becoming submissive. He gasped when I freed his lips.

"My office has a transient apartment in a building on this block, and I have a key to it." I said. "If you really are serious about moving this to a new level, we could be there within a few minutes."

"Oh, yes, yes, please," Chris, said in a gaspy voice. And then he grabbed his beer, downed it, and rose, ready to leave.

I threw more than enough money on the table top for the drinks and the tip and scooted out of the bench. Our waiter was leaning over a table whispering something in the ear of a patron as we passed him on our way out, and I copped a feel of his nice rounded ass. He looked up and gave me a sensuous grin and a laugh.

Chris was quiet as we walked down the block and into the lobby of one of the high-rise apartment buildings that was next to my office building. I could feel him trembling at my side, though, as the elevator rose into the clouds. As soon as we entered the apartment, I slammed the door behind us, flipped on the lights, and spun Chris around and against the wall next to the door. I shrugged my jacket off onto the floor and in one swift move, pulled his T up and off him and threw that in back of me as well. We kissed wildly, as we both struggled with belt buckles and zippers and pulling pants and briefs off. While I kissed and nipped my way down his neck and around his nipples, Chris unbuttoned my shirt. Before he could pull my shirt off my back, though, I slammed my chest and thighs against his, close. Close, like I liked it. I was more muscular than he was everywhere and had little trouble gaining control. I brushed my chest up and down on his, giving him every benefit of the rough feel of the leather strapping and circular metal ring I'd had under my shirt. He in turn, gave me his first deep moans of the afternoon.

We'd made quite clear in our e-mails that I was a top and he was a bottom. I pushed my cock between his thighs, right under his balls, and he opened the stance of his legs, thinking that was what I wanted, but I pulled in my legs close to the side of his and held his legs close together, with my cock held tightly between his legs. His cock, which rose up my belly between us, was engorging and bobbing back and forth, trying to break free. But I wouldn't let it. His hands were fluttering about me, trying to find a way to meet my advances with responses of his own, but I grabbed him by the wrists and held his hands high over his head. I slammed my forehead against his, our noses tip-to-tip, and our eyes staring directly into each other's. Neither of us said a thing, but I held him there, staring him down, until I felt all of the tension and struggle draining out of him, giving me total control.

And then I dry humped him, fucking his tender inner thighs, as my cock got thicker and longer. His trembling increased, the nervous racehorse. We kissed, and in that he showed that I was in full control; his lips opened to mine and his tongue responded to mine, but he let me take the lead, the aggressive movements were all mine.

When he was completely submissive, I broke away and guided him into the bedroom. I laid him down in the center of the bed on his belly and opened a suitcase I had placed there earlier and took out the leather restraints. Chris trembled all over but said nothing as I cuffed his hands and tied them off together with a leather strap at the center of the strong brass headboard.

Then I spread his legs, pulled his cock between his legs and stroked him off with one hand while I tongued his asshole, getting it ready for me. He became more active then, stroking his cock into my hand and wiggling his butt in response to my tonguing, and I let him do that until I held a small puddle of his cum in my hand. I went into the bathroom and wet a washcloth and cleaned his dick and the bedspread off. Then I went to the suitcase and got a condom packet and tube of lubricant and of hand lotion. I opened the packet and rolled the condom onto my dick. It only covered about half of my length. I then lathered up my dick with the lubricant and plopped a gob of it at his asshole.

Chris had been watching me, and he had tensed up tightly when he felt the lubricant at his hole. I took up the hand lotion tube, squeezed out a good amount and crouched astride his thighs. Starting with his neck and shoulders and biceps, I massaged his muscles, working out his tensions. I ran my hands around to his chest and massaged his pecs and nipples and down his abs. Then I did his back muscles and down to the small of his back. I moved farther down his body, next to his calves, with my knees, and massaged his thighs and then up on his butt cheeks. He was slim-hipped; there were deep hollows at the sides of his butt cheeks, and his buttocks were two pert little mounds. I was a little worried whether he could take me at all, let alone the way I planned to fuck him.

The massage had released his tension, and he was quite calm now; the trembling had stopped and he was sighing in appreciation of the unexpected massage. I'm sure he had expected me to take him quickly and brutally. That wasn't quite my plan, however. My fingers went to his asshole, and I started to work the lubricant into his ass. He was tensing up a bit now, but I took it slowly, and he quieted down before I moved to a deeper level or added another finger. Soon I had two fingers from each hand in him and was finding that he indeed had been plowed before by big tools. I used the fingers from the two hands to pull his rim in opposite directions, opening his hole to me.

The sheathed head of my thunderous cock went to the opening, and he tensed and gave a little lurch as he felt my long-anticipated cock at his door. I kept the fingers there, pushing my cock head between them and up to the rim of my dick head. Chris was panting and had arched his butt up and widened his legs to accommodate me. This was OK for now, but this wasn't my plan. I'd give him this, though, to help him adjust to the initial embedding of my cock.

I pushed in another inch and held, while he moaned and grunted and panted. When his ass walls had adjusted to this, I slid in a couple of more inches while I slowly extracted my fingers. His butt came up even more and his back arched down. He let a breath that he must have been holding since I first entered him slowly escape and I could feel him calming down. He thought this was it. He thought the entry was the toughest part and that I'd just slowly glide up to the center of him as his ass adjusted to me.

It was time for some reality. I needed control and tightness for my own pleasure to spin out. I pulled out of him and rose off the bed. Chris looked around in surprise. He was talking to me, but I wasn't listening to him. I was consumed by my own urges and needs now.

I went back to the suitcase and extracted a couple more leather belts and a pair of black gloves, special black gloves attached to a battery. I pulled Chris's legs together and wrapped the smaller of the belts around his ankles, holding them tightly together. The larger of the belts I wrapped around his calves just below his knees. His legs were encased now, held closely together. Just the way I liked them. I pulled the black gloves on and tested them by touching the index finger of my right hand to Chris's calf. He lurched as the low-level electrical shock, set at just a slight tad above tingle, hit him. The shock would be activated at the tips of all fingers when the index finger was pressed to a surface.

Chris was making questioning noises again, as I straddled his thighs once more and repeated the massage I had given him earlier, starting with the shoulders and biceps, but this time with ten points of low-level electrical shock. He didn't like it at all at first, but eventually, when he became assured that the shock wasn't going to go much above a tingling sensation, he gave into the pleasure of the experience. I worked my way down his back and across his butt cheeks. And then I draped myself along his side and entered his ass with the middle finger of one hand and pressed my index finger at the base of his cock under his balls. He practically lifted up off the bed at the sensations this created.

I worked my other hand under his belly and got three fingers on the sides of his cock and the thumb and little finger on his balls. He babbled and writhed and grunted and groaned as the middle finger of my right hand pushed in until it rested on his prostate and the other fingers of that hand went to his balls. He came in a gush of cum that I'm sure he'd never managed before and lay there limply, as I extricated myself and positioned myself on top of him for the main event.

I was crouched over him with my knees nudging in on his thighs again. I positioned my cock at his now-scrunched-together asshole and worked the head into the tight hole. I spread the palms of my hands on his butt cheeks and pulled them apart while I pushed my engorged ram in a couple of now-hard-fought inches, the pads of my fingers giving little shocks to Chris's tender flesh. He was crying out in pleasured pain and grunting at the now very tight intrusion.

I needed closeness and tightness now. I pushed a couple of more inches into his constricted ass canal, as my body took full possession of his. My legs pulled in closely, encasing his bound legs; my heaving belly dug into the small of his back; my chest pushed into his shoulders and my rough-leather chest straps and nipples brushed back and forth on his back. My arms wrapped around his torso, their shocking fingers surrounding and playing with his nipples; my chin hooked into his shoulder, and my lips, teeth, and tongue went to a tender spot in his neck. And I squeezed his body hard with mine, as my throbbing hose unwound slowly up his constricted ass canal.