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Note: This is a true story about one of my experiences and for adults only. It contains gay male bondage roleplay and sexual contact between men.
My buddy Dave recently bought a fixer-upper house in a bad neighborhood of Los Angeles. In his backyard, at the end of his carport, was a rickety old barn like garage. With my help, we converted it into a dungeon. Like me, Dave was primarily a dominant master (a “dom”) but we enjoyed switching up roles when we played. Having his own dungeon was a big feather in his BDSM cap. He outfitted it with his existing bondage gear and toys, and all kinds of crazy, kinky stuff. The most significant additions to his dungeon that made it special, however, required special installation. Since I was handy with heavy-duty tools, I volunteered to be his slave labor for the task. One was a bondage bed. He found an old iron bed at a thrift store that we reinforced with more metal material and then anchored it to the concrete flooring.
Next, we installed his piece de resistance, which were two sets of metal scaffolding towers. Through a craigslist ad, he found a music company “dumping” these gargantuan beasts to anyone who could take them away from their storage. They were the kind used for rock concerts to frame a stage and hold up lighting. It took us an entire day but we were able to install them inside the garage and deadbolt them into the concrete flooring securely. Miraculously the aluminum towers fitted to the inch inside, just barely touching the roofing of the garage. We joked that it also made the shabby structure more secure and guaranteed the old roof wouldn’t fall on our heads.
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By Pup Shaggy
Hunter pulled Spencer along like a pet, not even slowing down for him. He led them into a nearby alley where they’d be obscured by the night. The smells that surrounded them were far from pleasant; piss, sick, and rotting food emanated from every dumpster. But both of them would soon forget the smells around them. Stopping suddenly, Hunter turned and fell against one bare wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Well?” he murmured.
“Here?” Spencer asked.
“You’d rather in front of all your friends? Or where someone can see you?” Good point. He took a step forward, not being able to move more than two steps away anyway because of the leash. He fell to his knees, not thinking about what he was kneeling in. He was met with a prominent bulge in his face, the smell of leather of his chaps and the denim of his jeans. He looked up at Hunter who just watched back.
He didn’t need to be told; he was expected to take them off himself; which would have been easy if his arms weren’t behind his back. But he went with it, he wasn’t about to start being picky and mouthy. Plus he did have a debt to pay. He moved in and gave his first kiss, the cold fabric contrasting with the smooth and cool leather against his lips… all of it firm and stretched over the rock hard cock shrouded beneath. He started licking, a mixture of worshipping the bulge and finding the zipper. Why did they always have to hide the damn things beneath a fold? It took a while for him to ease the zipper out, all the while, Hunter watched on, enjoying the grunts and murrs of the kid on his knees beneath him. He himself never made a sound but obviously enjoying the eager head that bobbed up and down as its tongue worked against his straining cock.