Chris stood in a dim lit corner of the back bar. It was leather night at the Hammer, the local fetish bar. Every few years, when passing through this city, he had dropped in. His score rate here was average, but even if he didn’t find a hookup he enjoyed the atmosphere.
At the moment he had his eye on a pair of boots. He had a passion for a man in boots. These were laced all the way up to the man’s knees. They were black and were shined to a high polish. Chris let his eyes slowly work their way from the top of the boots to the man’s package. Tight red rubber emphasised two well-developed thighs, which in turn helped to define a tight pair of arse cheeks.
Sweeping his eyes up further, the body was defined by a two-toned rubber military shirt. The shirt was obviously designed to enhance a broad set of shoulders and two well developed pecs. Above the shoulders was the lightly bearded face of a man in his mid forties. Gently he let his eyes travel back down to the boots. He could almost taste them as he pictured himself worshiping them. If he had a weakness, it was a great pair of boots, particularly when they were a natural extension of the wearer.
Chris cursed the 20mg of Cialis he had taken before coming out. Even though he didn’t need it at all, he enjoyed the sensation of the slightest provocation sending him rock hard instantly. Now, however, with a mind of its own, it was trying to force its way out from the rubber codpiece of his jockstrap in no uncertain manner. The fact that his rubber cock ring would not release the blood from his engorged cock was not helping the situation.
Continue reading 24 hours at the Hammer
Part I – Mike
My name is Michael. Sorry, my name was Michael. I used to be a lad. 100% Alpha, I’d stick my cock in whether the guy was willing or not, if the hole was there, I’d take it. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed getting a good fuck too, but on my own terms and time. When I wasn’t out humiliating some other lad with my cock you’d find me at Romeo’s Bath house playing pool, or at the Eagle doing the same. If I couldn’t humiliate you with sex, I’d do it at pool.
If you lost to me at pool, you paid the price. There was always a bet. If you were lucky you’d get down on your knees and blow me off in front of the bar. One poor sod went for the best of five, ratcheting up the humiliation bank with each game on a wet Friday night many years ago. The poor preppy, he ended up naked, hand-cuffed and wearing a spider gag in the last stall at the back of Romeo’s lower basement. Good spot, very dark, and the staff never went there. Don’t know how, or when, he got out, although I did tip off Josh, the guy behind the bar who owned Romeo’s, after l had dropped in on the Sunday afternoon to piss down the loser’s throat. Deep down I’m the sharing, caring sort.
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Part 11 – The Beach
The night was long. It’s difficult to sleep standing up at the best of times, although I thought that being as tired as I was it would be relatively easy. Not being able to move created some of the problem; the real problem though was the “dildo on a stick” concept. They say that sooner or later everybody has a day where they feel like a Muppet, today was more like that character from Avenue Q.
Continue reading Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 11
Part 10 – Solitary Confinement
The bastards left me out there all night. At some stage during the night the tail was removed and I became the casual sex tool again. At a later stage a urinal hood was placed over the weird hood I was already wearing. It seemed my fate with these guys was to drink an inordinate amount of piss. Needless to say that positioned as I was, with these random acts, I got no sleep.
Continue reading Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 10
Part 9 – The morning after
My legs were still bound spread when I woke up. My chest was covered in wax. All I could smell was stale piss. My balls hurt like hell and my arse could feel something stretching it. For once I was hooded without a gag – probably a safety thing. I tried to stretch my legs but all that achieved was lifting my body and for some unknown reason stretched my balls.
Continue reading Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 9
Part 8 – Back at the Station
We all do it, don’t we? Edging ourselves in situations where we just aren’t able to cum. One of my favourites is when I go to the gym at lunch time. The first half hour I spend power walking on the tread mill. I wear an old t-shirt and a pair of lycra shorts without a jock. As I walk towards the machine looking at the bods I get that tremulous feeling in my cock – not enough to be noticeable, but enough to make sure I position my cock correctly in my shorts.
Continue reading Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 8
Part 7 – The Hunt
Fuck it was hurting. I had one leg dangling on each side of a tree branch. My metal encased cock dangling through a hole in the branch whilst something was weighing down my balls. My hands were tapped into fists and my boots were weighted down with chains attached by an ice lock to a bolt at the base of the tree. I had to get down as soon as I could because the hunters would be out at dawn but the lock wasn’t budging.
Continue reading Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 7
Part 5 – Happy Christmas
Have you ever spent a good evening with heavy play, and exhausted fallen into bed with the other guy’s arms wrapped around you? Having done so have you ever not been able to sleep because he turned out to be the snorer from hell? Well in didn’t seem to happen to these two Berlin guys, they both were heavy snorers. Why should I care? Because the ruddy butt plug seemed to be set to noise activation and so, exhausted as I was, I whiled away the night awake with a butt plug vibrating in sympathy to TWO snorers.
Continue reading Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 5 and 6