As soon as I heard my mothers car leave for work in the morning, I go into my bedroom, and pull out my magazines from Mr. Smith. There are 4 of them now. 4 dirty magazines witch means, 4 times in the past few weeks that I gave Mr. Smith a show. 4 times i texted a gay man in his 50s, asking politely if I could amuse him by masturbating in front of him. 4 times I bared my penis and tender bottom, for his entertainment. 4 times I licked up my own slimy cum, for the pleasure he took in my humiliation.
I laid out the magazines on my bed, open to my recent favorites, and strip. After my first show for Mr. Smith I always jerk off standing up, and completely nude. I like to pretend Im the helpless victims in the photos and comics. I cross my wrists behind my back, kneel, and bend over like the boys in the pictures.
One of the magazines shows young men tied up in girls clothes and underwear. Bound boys, wearing fishnets, pleated skirts, lacy panties, and high wasted thongs. One spread showed a party where boys in french maid outfits and chains, served nasty old men. Another showed a terrified boy in a cheerleader outfit, roped up and struggling in a trash filled ally.
I fantasized about wearing girls undies under my jeans. Being in class, or talking to my mother, all along knowing what I had on underneath. I imagined myself in a French maids outfit. Bending over to pour Mr. Smith a beer, having him pinch the cheeks, exposed by my tiny skirt and lacy thong. I imagined Mr. Smith coming home to find me bound and gagged dressed in high socks and schoolgirl's pleated skirt. As I struggled, my skirt would ride up, and he'd be able to see my round booty and thick cock, straining my frilly little panties.
When I cum standing in front of my dirty magazines, I catch the semen in my cupped palms and lap it up. It's humiliating and gross, but it usually makes my chubby young cock stiffen again right after an orgasm. Slurping up my cum, I wonder how it would feel to eat another guy's jizz. What it would feel like to be bound, and forced to suck a man's big dirty penis. To have him cram it down my throat till I gagged, and my eye's watered. How I'd struggle against bound wrists, wile he choked me with his big cock.
These fantasies drove me wild. I wanted to be bound and gagged sooooo bad. Finally, I decided to ask Mr. Smith to tie me up. I really wanted him to say yes, and not be bothered by my request. So I decided I'd present my self to him like a gift. I'd get everything ready for him, then present my self with all the ropes and tape and...my horny mind trailed off.
That morning I texted Mr. Smith, telling him I'd like to show him something, when he got home from work. Next I caught a cross town buss, to the nearest Target for my supplies.
The ropes, tape, and zip ties I wanted were easy collect, but shopping for girls clothes was another matter. I could never admit they were for me, so I brought a bogus list, witch I fake checked as I shopped. This was just on the off chance I ran into someone I knew or was questioned. I could say I was shopping for whatever was on the list for, for a made up sister.
After skulking around for far too long in the girls section, I had to look up comparison sizes on my phone, as I wanted the panties to fit tight. As I approached the register with my cart, I trembled at its contents; a 3 pack of frilly bikini style panties, tall pink socks, low black heels, a plain white spaghetti strap top, and a short pleated schoolgirl skirt.
Behind. The register was a thick black lady, in her late 40s, heavily mad up. Her red Target shirt bulged out over her huge sagging tits, and her wide hips and big ass strained the fabric of her yoga pants. I couldn't help but notice the tag reading Kana on one massive utter.
As she began to scan my items, a little wicked smile crossed her face. And as she bagged first the heels, then the tall socks, skirt, and spaghetti strap top, she looked me over with hungry eyes. Did she somehow know the girly clothes were for me?
"Now who are all these pretty clothes for hun? Not you?"
Her question cut straight to the hart of my fear and I froze. Somehow I knew, she had guessed the things were for me. The curvy black women saw right through me, and knew I was a little perv, who couldn't wait to be tied up in those girly clothes. I choked, I stuttered, my penis half stiffening in my tight jeans. Wanting to run, I finally mumbled something lamely about my list, and made up sister.
"Sister, right. Im sure, your sister. Your very nice to shop for her, aren't you?"
Laughing, pretending it was a joke she went on, holding the bikini panties high for an obscenely long moment, before bagging them. She went on.
"Well Im sure you would never wear these cute things. But Im also sure, who ever these are for, that person will look very great in them."
She said this last with a wink, running her eyes over my slim body slowly, checking be out again from top to bottom. Then as her grin widened to an absolute leer as she came to the ropes, tape, and zip ties.
"What have we here?"
I terrified my hear racing, I stammered something about repairs, and needing to tie some things up around the house.
"All this rope and tape, something must really need to be tied up around your house? Isn't that right hun. Something at your house really need to be tied up... bound?"
The word "bound" hung in the air between us. She knew everything, I was like and open book. All I could do was stand there and try not to stare at her huge saggy tits.
I hovered there shocked, my penis twitching, a bulge appearing in the front of my jeans. This thick lady could tell from my groceries and my shady behavior, that I was some sort of submissive bondage perv. Finally, holding up my last item, the zip ties, she looked me right in the eyes.
"Now you'll be careful with these won't you hun? It's easy for a cute young man to get tangled up and trapped with these. I have a son about your age, and one time I he got himself tangled up in some tip ties. That boy was a trail, always getting in trouble and spanked for going through my underwear drawer."
Kayana let the line wait, looking me up and down, couching her creepy monologue in cheerful professional sounding banter.
"It's funny, when my boy evidently tied himself up that time, somehow his pants had fallen down too. Imagine that, I open my garage, to find my 18 year old football player son, zip tied to a post, in nothing but his under panties. He was lucky his mommy was there to help him."
Her teasing hint wasn't subtle at all, and I was terrified the other customers would notice. Taking my money, she held back my bag, writing on my recite.
"I wrote my number on this recite here. My names Kana, and if you ever. Need help with these ties, you just give mama a call, ok boy."
Putting the recite in the bag, she finally handed me my items. All I could do was mumble a humiliated thank you, and try to hold the grocery bag over my boner as I rushed out of the store.
On the bus ride home, I couldn't stop thinking about Kayana. That big older lady had seen what kind of boy I was, and instead of being shocked, she was turned on. She wanted to see me humiliated, roped up, in girls clothes.
I had to put the grocery bag on my lap to cover my stiffing cock, as I imagined what might happen if I called her. I visualized myself in her shabby apartment, stripping and jerking off for her, wile she sipped a cocktail. I saw myself on my knees in a thong, massaging her feet and licking her clit, as she watched TV and unwound from work. I wanted her to tie me up, and suffocate me with her, fat, hairy, black vagina. I tried to calm down, but all too soon we pulled up to my stop. Again I had to clutch the plastic Target bag over my throbbing hard on.
