By Jaybird

Before there was a world-wide-web, or even an Internet, there were thousands of computer bulletin board systems. Each had its own phone number. You set up your terminal software, dialed the number, and if there was no busy signal, you could log in. Busy signal? Yup. Most were run by hobbyists, and had only a single line, and could handle only one connection at a time.

There were national online forums, interconnected by FIDONET, but each BBS had its own personality established by the system operator, or SYSOP.

It was a long time ago, and I honestly don’t recall how I got into a chat conversation with this particular guy. I certainly don’t recall how it turned sexual, I was happily heterosexual and had never had any kind of male-on-male encounter.

We chatted for a while, then he hit me with this:

“I’m your neighbor.”

He had figured out who I was. It turned out we had known each other from a previous workplace where we both worked as well. Maybe that is how he put the pieces together.

And he was pretty clearly now coming on to me. Having that interest was hot and intriguing. Then he offered, “You could even tie me up if you want.” I somewhat sheepishly responded, “I would really like it if you tied ME up.”

“OK.”

So the conversation shifted to logistics – what, where, when. I would bring some rope and a blindfold, since that’s what I wanted.

Saturday afternoon, a nice fall day in a little residential development near Tacoma, I hopped on my bicycle and pedaled over to his house, parked the bike, and, heart pounding, rang his doorbell.

He was two inches taller than me, every bit of 6 feet 4 inches, athletic, late 30s, a mop of short cropped blond hair. He greeted me as I stepped inside. Then, “Why don’t you just go upstairs and take off your clothes, I’ll be up in a minute.”

I climbed the stairs, found the bedroom, set my four pieces of rope out on the floor, stripped, blindfolded myself and stood in the middle of the room with my back to the door. My heart was still pounding.

A few minutes went by, and I heard him come in. Kindly, gently, he moved my arms behind my back and secured my wrists, palms in. My heart was pounding faster. Then another piece of rope was wrapped around my upper arms, just above my elbows. With a gentle but firm tug, he cinched that tight, and I felt a surge of excitement, my previously partial erection instantly became rock hard.

His big hands caressed my ass, my chest. They paused a bit on my nipples, and my knees got weak. I hadn’t told him how my nipples were hard wired directly to my hypothalamus, bypassing every other external stimulation.

But now he knew, and pressed that knowledge home.

I descended to my knees, which I’m now thinking is what he wanted because he quickly had me cross my ankles, and tied them together.

His dick was huge. I know this because I felt it touch my lips and instinctively opened my mouth for him. Again – my first time for any of this. I really wanted to take him in, and did my best awkwardly slurping and moving my head for him, though I don’t know how good a job I was doing. He didn’t seem to mind, perhaps enjoying my total inexperience.

After a bit he helped me down onto my stomach, and with the remaining piece of rope cinched my ankles to my wrists, arching my back into an exquisite hogtie and left me there for a while. I could hear him downstairs on the phone, but not well enough to understand what he was saying. I hadn’t heard the phone ring (remember, this was before cell phones), so it was an outgoing call on his part. Who was he talking to? It really didn’t matter, I wasn’t going anywhere.

When I tell people how relaxing this state is for me, many don’t understand. But I love spending hours like this – naked, hogtied, blindfolded, just in my own zone. It is actually close to meditative for me. And that’s where I was, with no real idea of time passing. He had done a good job, I wasn’t going to escape on my own, but there was nothing cutting off circulation or pinching. It was comfortable and I relaxed, able to feel my butt with my hands just to remind me that I was naked.

Voices. More than one. Both male. Laughing, “Well look at him,” as they came into the room. But they weren’t interested in me. I heard the sounds of making out, of belts buckles and zippers, moaning and slurping on the bed to my left, the unmistakable sounds of the male orgasm.

Then hands, as I was rolled over onto my back. My legs were crossed, spreading my thighs wide, my wrists were pressed in between my glutes, I could feel my asshole with my thumbs.

More hands. Fingers circling my nipples as I stiffened up again, and pulled with all of my strength against the ropes. Something cold and liquid on my cock, then slow, s-l-o-w, strokes all while the work on my nipples continued relentlessly.

“FUCK,” was about the only word I could say, then I couldn’t even say that as my thoughts faded into nothing but raw primal desperation. Today I tell people I would rather forgo an orgasm than have one before I am desperate for it – this was really the day I learned where that line was. And I wanted it so bad. But each time I was close, the stroking stopped. Until, one stroke too many.

I hope the neighbors weren’t too close, because I was loud and I felt a splash of my own semen on my chin.

Then it stopped and nothing. I heard them get up, get dressed without a word, downstairs, door open and close, car door outside, while I felt the wet sticky running down my chest and stomach.

He returned with a towel, gently cleaning me off. And as efficiently as I had been put into the position, he untied me and left the room.

I sat up, and reluctantly took off the blindfold, and more reluctantly I found my clothes, put them on. If this had gone on longer, I would not have minded. But I went downstairs and saw him waiting by the door. The hug he gave me was wonderful, his hands cupping my glutes, holding me so tight. I left, the door closed behind me, and I went home.

For now.