By Hunter Perez

Making love through the iron bars of a cell door can be an intense experience, as I learned (pardon the expression) the hard way. From my position of being locked within the cell that was previously my bedroom closet, the bars that pressed against my face and body offered a constant reminder of my changed status into a prisoner. For his part, Simon also seemed changed by this set-up – there was no tenderness from him. He didn’t smile and his demands had a rough edge to them. His energy was much more raw and visceral, and he handled me more as a possession than as a lover. Whether he was role-playing in his mind with a jailer-prisoner scenario or whether he became absorbed by the new warped dynamics of our coupling, I can’t say. What I can say is that we were both exhausted when it was finally over.

We sat on the ground with our fingers intertwined and Simon finally gave me the goofy smile that he always offered when serenity followed our lovemaking.

“Do you think we could honeymoon at the Franklin County Historic Jail?” he asked. “We could appear in some of Mark Bind’s videos by day and make love at night.”

“Well, that would be a unique honeymoon,” I replied. “And speaking of videos, Mr. Jock is taking his time in getting back here with his camera equipment.”

I wasn’t surprised that Jock was late – his disregard for timeliness was one of his least amusing vices. But since I was already acquainted for his chronic lateness, I wasn’t concerned. I knew he would show up eventually and would most likely launch into the cockamamie shoot he wanted to do with the newly installed cell door. My freedom wasn’t very far away, I reasoned, and the action I enjoyed with Simon through the cell door’s iron bars compensated for the indignity of the naked imprisonment.

Simon and I were at post-sex peace for a short time before the doorbell rang. Simon arose, put on his jeans and answered the door. I could hear Jock’s voice, but there were other voices as well. Jock walked into the bedroom and grinned upon viewing me behind bars.

“Hey, you’re still here!” he laughed. Jock then turned around and yelled out of the room, “Hey, Carl and Pedro, come on in here.”

Carl was my next-door neighbor and Jock’s personal trainer. He matched Jock’s height at six-foot-five, and he sported a shaved head with bushy beard plus has heavy metal tattoos all over his excessively muscular arms. His boyfriend, Pedro, matched Carl and Jock for height and musculature – and his bronzed skin, long black hair and Mexican good looks made him seem like an Aztec god come to life. Carl was carrying three large pizza boxes, and Pedro had a cardboard box with liquor bottles. Both laughed upon viewing me.

“Hey, you’ve got the little guy locked up,” roared Carl. “That’s funny. And he’s naked, too. That’s really cute.”

“Pedro just got a new job, so we’re going to celebrate,” announced Jock. “We’re going to go inside. Simon, get out some plates and some glasses for us, please.”

The three of them lumbered out of the room, leaving the door ajar. I stood at the cell door for a few seconds, listening to talk and laughter from the next room. I called out Jock’s name and got no response. I called again and then again before he came back.

“What is it, Bingo?” he asked.

“You’re having a party in my living room?” I said.

Jock looked at me blankly and nodded. There was silence for a few seconds before I said, “What about the photo shoot you wanted to do?”

“We’ll do it later,” he said. “My equipment is in my car.”

There was another awkward pause before I volunteered, “So, you’re going to have a party in my home while I’m locked in this cage?”

“Obviously,” he replied.

“Well,” I said. “If you’re having a party, and this is my home, shouldn’t I be part of the party?”

Jock frowned, scratched his head, then turned and yelled out of the room, “Guys, can you all come in here a second?”

Carl, Pedro and Simon walked in and stood beside Jock – Carl folded his massive arms across his beefy chest while Pedro smirked and Simon had a nervous look.

“Our prisoner wants to be let out to party with us,” said Jock. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. All in favor of keeping him behind bars, raise your hands.”

Jock and Carl’s hands immediately went up, with Pedro following in a two-second delay and Simon sheepishly following in a belated affirmation.

“Sorry, little guy, but you’re stuck in there,” Carl said, provoking laughter from Jock and Pedro.

The guys walked out of the room with Simon trailing them – he paused, gazed at me with mild sorrow and mouthed “Sorry” before leaving. A few seconds later, Jock returned and closed the bedroom door without looking at me. I stood clutching the cell’s bars while looking stupidly at the shut bedroom door, waiting for it to immediately open amid good-natured chuckles of a completed prank.

But the bedroom door did not open. From beyond the door, I could hear laughter and talk and, I thought, the clink of drinking glasses. After a few minutes, I could hear my television booming with the bombastic music that accompanied sports broadcasts.

“I’m not going complain,” I thought to myself. “Nothing makes Jock happier than hearing me complain with anger when he has me trapped in one of his stupid bondage jokes. I won’t give him that satisfaction. Let him wonder about why I am not complaining and let him wonder why I’m silent when he expects me to scream.”

I sat on the floor and pressed my face along the bars, concentrating hard on the sounds from beyond the door. I could hear the television’s sports show and the playing of the National Anthem, which the guys applauded, and after that I could make out bursts of laughs and chatter, followed by cheers by what I assumed came from scored points by their favored team.

I lost track of time, but when the glow from the streetlamp outside my window cast a bright yellow-orange glow into my room I knew it was 8:13 in the evening. Was I locked in for four hours, or five? I didn’t know the time when Jock trapped me.

“What the hell are they going to do to me?” I began to wonder. “Will they just ignore me all night? Or will they come by later to make fun of me? This is the worst thing that Jock’s done to me. I can’t believe he would just lock me up, take over my place and let me sit here.”

I stood up and stretched, but then I heard a new sound – someone was in the bathroom that was next to my confinement space, and I could clearly hear them peeing into the toilet. I made a fist and went to bang on the wall separating us, but I changed my mind at the last second as I heard the noisy swirls of the flushing toilet. I could then hear the click of the light fixture being shut off.

“Let me out of here,” I said to myself, pulling hard on the bars. “Let me out.”

My effort to pull on the bars created a faint clink, but I didn’t believe it could be heard in the next room. I stepped back from the bars and took deep breaths, hoping to wipe away my agitation.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at bedroom door. It opened slowly and Carl peeked his head into view.

“Hey, little guy, how are you doing?” he said with sardonic grin. “You like being locked up by four big muscle guys?”

Jock and Simon knew I had a fixation with bodybuilders, and I assume that knowledge was passed on to Carl. He strutted before the cell – he had a tight black t-shirt and tight jeans that showed off his powerful physique.

“Let me give you something to think about,” he cooed, lifting his right arm and curling it until his bicep swelled into a grapefruit-sized mass of muscle. The tattoos on his arm seemed to emphasize the strength of his flex.

“Go ahead, feel it,” he said, holding the arm against the bars. “You know that you want to.”

I carefully reached out and slowly put my fingers across his bicep. It was granite-hard and a dream to caress. As I rubbed my palms deeply across the bicep, Carl quickly pulled back and laughed.

“Yeah, little guy likes his muscle men,” he said. “Maybe I’ll come back later and give you a real muscle worship show.”

Carl walked backward and exited the room, closing the door behind him. I hugged the cell door’s bars and began to rub my crotch furiously. But the euphoria that I experienced in feeling Carl’s bicep through the cell’s bars began to wear off and soon I was back to silent monotony of my confinement. I could hear the television’s sports show from the living room, and twice there were visits to the bathroom next to my confinement space – one of the visits was like the previous session of someone peeing into and flushing the toilet, but the other sounded like someone coughing or gagging, followed by a muffled voice of another guy. That was followed by what sounded like a buzz of all four guys talking at once, but after that everyone was quiet and only the television could be heard.

I took down the little portable potty from the upper shelf within the closet and positioned myself closely over it, letting loose with my own pee stream. I realized, to my surprise, that I gone for long hours without the need to relieve myself – and, for that matter, without eating or drinking. Yet I wasn’t hungry or thirsty, and I wondered if part of Jock’s prank was to exploit my helplessness by making me beg for food and water.

The television finally went off and I could hear a murmur of talking. I thought I heard one of the guys calling out Jock’s name several times, and that was followed by low laughing. Then, a knock came on the bedroom door, which opened slowly and abruptly stopped. A few seconds later, the door was kicked open and Carl and Pedro slowly marched into the room while carrying Jock.

“What happened to him?” I said.

“He passed out while drinking,” said Carl. “Dead drunk. He never could hold his liquor.”

Carl and Pedro laid Jock on my bed and pulled off his sneakers. I looked to the bedroom door and asked where Simon was.

“Oh, he left an hour ago,” Pedro answered. “He couldn’t hold his liquor either. He got sick and we got him a ride-share to take him home.”

“I wanted Jock to leave, too, but he insisted on staying,” added Carl. “Besides, it’s late and we’ve got to get going. Thank you for letting us use your place.”

“Wait,” I yelled in a voice that was a bit too loud. “What about me?”

“Well, I am sure Jock will let you out when he wakes up,” Carl said while pointing to the bed. “I’ve had this before with him – give him an hour or two and he’ll wake up.”

I looked at Jock passed out on my bed and grimaced. I’ve had my own experiences with him when he got drunk, and I knew how long it could take him to sober up.

“Just do me one favor,” I said frantically. “Please take his car keys. If he wakes up and is still drunk, he’ll try to drive home. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

Carl and Pedro stopped and stared at me – Carl with confusion, Pedro with sympathy. Carl stepped over to the cell and said, “After what Jock did to you tonight, you still care about what happens to him?”

I nodded slight. “He is my friend. Just because…well, just because he acted like a jerk to me doesn’t mean that I want him to get hurt or worse if he’s driving while still drunk. That won’t make me feel better.”

Carl turned to Pedro, who nodded at him. Pedro bent over Jock’s body and patted his pants before pulling out the car keys, which he pocketed. Carl then said to Pedro, “The little guy has been a good sport. Let’s give him a muscle worship show. He likes that stuff.”

Pedro and Carl took off their shirts, kicked off their sandals and stripped down their pants – Pedro had no underwear while Carl had a tiny black thong that he pulled off. They stood side-by-side before the cell door and slowly began to go into a bodybuilder pose down.

I couldn’t believe my eyes – Carl, with his elaborate tattoos, was like an illustrated book come to life. Pedro’s bronze skin had an unreal glow. They twisted, turned, flexed, and gyrated into positions that enabled all their muscles to throb brilliantly.

I pushed myself into the bars and reached my arms out, my fingers wiggling to touch them. They winked at each other and moved flush to the bars. My hands greedily raced across their chests, arms and shoulders. I pressed hard into their muscular flesh and found myself breathing deeply as my crotch began to shake.

“You must be hungry, little guy,” Carl quipped. “Get down on your knees and have some meat for dinner.”

I dropped to my knees and began to rub their cocks – they were thick and beautiful, a pleasure to hold. I raised Pedro’s cock into my mouth and began to service while aggressively massaging Carl’s member. I glanced up and saw the guys in a long, hot kiss while I was working them below.

After a few minutes, I switched positions while giving Carl my mouth and Pedro my massaging hand. Carl started to giggle as my tongue wrapped around his cock. While I massaged Pedro with one hand, I rubbed Carl’s thighs with my other hand, which caused him to moan.

“You like being our prisoner, little guy?” Pedro said.

I nodded as Carl’s hard cock filled my mouth. Carl tousled my hair and said, “You say ‘Sir’ when your jailer speaks to you, little guy. You like being our prisoner?”

I pulled my head back slightly and said, “Yes, Sir.”

A few minutes of mouth action later, Carl moaned, “I’m going to cum.” He pushed my head back as he began to rub his cock hard. Pedro followed suit, and the two of them frenetically began to stroke themselves.

“Cum on me, please,” I said, to which they positioned themselves with their cocks pointed at me. I started to rub myself too, but I wasn’t near exploding. Carl’s cock shot a rush of cum through the bars across my face. I turned to Pedro and he responded a minute later with his own thick stream of cum on my forehead and into my hair.

I stopped rubbing myself and laughed, wiping my fingers across my cum-streaked face and hair. Carl and Pedro exhaled hard and leaned on the bars, panting to catch their breath.

Pedro pulled on his pants and slipped into his sandals. He walked over to Jock, still passed out on the bed. “Little guy, where’s the key to your cage?”

I told him that I recalled Jock putting it in his back pocket. Pedro patted Jock and extracted the key. He whistled and tossed it to Carl, who pulled up his thong.

“This was incredible,” I said. “I just want to give you guys a big hug.”

“Of course you do,” Carl said with a sardonic grin. “I love a big hug. So does Pedro. Don’t you, Pedro?”

Pedro came over to Carl and kissed him passionately. The two began to hug each other tightly.

“And you like being our prisoner, don’t you?” Carl said, looking over Pedro’s shoulder to me.

“Yeah,” I said.

Carl whispered into Pedro’s ear, causing him to laugh and shake his head. Pedro stepped back as Carl held up the cell’s key.

“Well, you can’t hug us and be our prisoner at the same time, can you?” Carl said as he pulled out the front of his thong and dropped the cell’s key into his crotch. He let the thong snap to his body and quickly pulled up his pants and slipped into his sandals.

A chill suddenly took over me. “What are you…you’re not…you’re letting me out?”

“Someday,” Carl said calmly with a slight smile. “Right now, you’re our prisoner. We’ll be back for you in the morning to discuss how long you’re going to be locked up. Besides, we’re supposed to have rain for the next two days, so there’s no point releasing you into the bad weather.”

Carl and Pedro began to walk out of the bedroom, and I started to pull at the bars and demand to be let out. Carl left without acknowledging my outburst, but Pedro turned, held his index finger over his lips and said, “Shh, be quiet. You’ll wake up your friend.”

I heard my front door close, and I sank to the ground, clutching the bars of the cell. Jock started to snore, and he rolled over onto his stomach. I banged my head on the bars and fell over on my back while crying out loud, “Seriously, how do I get myself into situations like this?”

The End