“Uhh, are you sure about this?” I asked George for the hundredth time.
George’s scruffy blonde face looked up from the project on his bench. “‘Course I’m sure!” He blew across the surface of the wood, sending a cloud of powdery shavings into the air. “Now I think this’ll do.” He picked up the two blocks from the bench, and walked over to where I stood. I put the sketches down and held my arms out. George placed the blocks over my forearms and inspected the fit.
“Perfect!” He exclaimed. “How does it feel?”
I tried twisting my wrists side-to-side to gauge the clearance. “Yeah, it’s good…” There really wasn’t anything to complain about, no pinching, no tightness.
“Good.” George smiled as he tousled the wood dust out of his hair, and wiped at his brow with a rag. “Well, let’s get you in shall we? Clothes off!”
I began to take my clothes off, George lending an all-too eager hand. I blushed as the back of his hand brushed my skin. I liked George, yes. In fact, I’d always liked him. We’d been friends since we met in high school woodshop. We still made plenty of projects together in his garage-turned-workshop, but nothing quite like this…
Continue reading Screwed
“Enjoy your flight!”
Right, because there’s much to enjoy about being stuffed like a sardine in a flying aluminum can for five hours… I take my bags and ticket toward the security line. The one enjoyable thing about the airport at 4am, is how fast the lines go. If there’s a line at all.
“Place any electronics larger than a cell phone in the bins… Shoes off. Coats off. Empty your pockets.”
“Nice boots!” The TSA officer whistled as I placed my black cowboy boots on the belt. “They even look new!”
“Thank you,” I replied as nicely as I could at the 4am hour. “They were a real find.”
“Beautiful!” He took a closer look at the white designs etched over the shiny black leather of my boots. He finally shook his head. “I can’t wear boots anymore, as they hurt my feet. But nothing compares to ‘em!”
“For sure,” I nodded. The TSA guy was cute. Beefy build, big arms, and clearly liked boots. If there was no line, I’d have taken more time getting my stuff into the bins. Oh well…
Continue reading Enjoying the Flight
Kink interests are like a garden. Takes patience, hard work, some creativity and some luck. Sometimes, unexpected surprises come up too, and you decide to try something else, or even take it in a new direction.
Generally speaking, I like restraints to be comfortable enough for both short and long scenes. I prefer any discomfort to come from the desire to stretch out and move after being in bondage for a long time, rather than deliberately inflicted from a piece of equipment, or poor judgement or planning. Therefore, I tend to like padded leather restraints, and larger diameter ropes.
Handcuffs of course, being designed for short-term confinement of unruly prisoners, were therefore never a priority or serious interest, aside from the occasional roleplay where they were appropriate. See I also believe that there’s a time and place and scene for everything. So all was well in my kink collection of leather and ropes. Until something new began to take root.
Continue reading Planting the Seed
Gary is a big lug. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky masculine swagger, the blond construction worker is the epitome of tough guy. Yeah, he’s a big tough manly man, but once he’s out of the carharts and steel-toed boots, he’s just a big teddybear. This afternoon, he’s hogtied on the bed next to me as I write. His hair is matted with sweat, and he’s panting lightly though the thick socks tied in his mouth. He wriggles his toes as I brush my fingertips along his body, idly tracing his spine and ribs. I can see his eyes fluttering gently.
“That’s it, big guy,” I whisper in a soothing voice. “You get to relax now that I’ve got you.”
“Mmmmhmmm…” Gary moans with a nod.
I reach over his broad back and feel his feet.
“Tsk tsk, you’re working so hard these days. Your poor feet!” I start rubbing the heels with a pumice stone. Gary jerks in his restraints with a muffled yelp.
Continue reading Tough Guy
Sam and I go way back, we’ve been buddies since grade school. Played baseball since little league, and since high school I’ve been a pitcher and he’s been my catcher. Yup it’s a cliche, go ahead and make all the pitcher/catcher jokes you want. I’ve heard them all, and I’ll admit there’s something special about our relationship. Sure, we’re good bros off the field. No homo though, we’re both straight. On the field though, is where the magic really happens. We share a mind, and think the same. Sam doesn’t even have to give me signs, just a look, and whatever pitch I throw is always right. When we’re playing, the games are quick, and victory is usually ours. Well, it depends on if our team can hit the damn ball, but at least the bullpen is always solid.
Like I said, Sam and I are both straight. I’ve enjoyed the girls I’ve dated very much. That said, I could definitely turn gay for him. Girls get clingy and whiny, and I know I’m more of a man’s man. Sam, being my buddy and all, I could spend my life with him playing baseball, camping, etc. There was a stretch in college when I was sidelined because I’d thrown my arm out. Watching him catch for another pitcher… I got so damn envious. My first game back, we proved just how good we were together. The game went by, every batter would come up to the plate. Sam flashed a smile, and flipped me the bird. I shook my head once. He stuck his tongue out. Fucker. I gave him a fastball.
“Strike!” The umpire called. The batter headed away from the plate, muttering to himself dejectedly.
Continue reading A Pitcher and His Catcher
Sputnik shuffled from one hoof to the other, grinding the bit between his teeth. His mind was racing, his thoughts all blurring together. The grainy remnants of a sugar cube clung to the back of his tongue stimulating his salivary glands, and the aphrodisiac already doing its work on his achingly stiff cock.
“Easy there, stud.” Ian gave his butt a gentle tap with the crop. “You’ve been doing well, this is just going to be fun for you! Just… Hold your… Horses.” Ian chuckled unable to keep his intended deadpan delivery. Sputnik rolled his eyes as his handler doubled over in a breathless fit of giggles.
“Nervous much?” Rich poked his head through the door, the cheery twinkle in his eyes betraying his cool demeanor. “Pull yourself together, it’s showtime. Here you go, Sputnik.” Rich stuffed another sugar cube past the stallion’s bit and ducked back through the door from whence he appeared.
Sputnik gulped the sweet grainy treat down. That was the third energy-boosting aphrodisiac-laced serving he’d been given in the last five minutes. Guess they didn’t think he was horny enough. He huffed in frustration.
Continue reading Buying Love – Part 5
Much to Sputnik’s disappointment, he did not get another collection that night. After dinner, he spent some more time in the lounge. There was a basketball game on this time, and he and Steel spooned together on the mattress watching it as their hard cocks were tended to by Tanner and Rex. Mascot joined after a while, and he and Sputnik eventually left the lounge together. Back in Sputnik’s room, the two had settled in together sharing a few kisses and groping at each other with their mitted hands. Sleep came quickly once Sputnik had laid down with his favorite dog in his arms, and his semi-erect cock resting next to Mascot’s balls. He could get used to falling asleep like this.
When Ian arrived in the morning, Mascot reluctantly took his leave of the black leather stallion. Ian promised them they’d have some time together later on. The morning followed the same routine as the day before. Warm mushy breakfast out of the trough, followed by treadmill time on all fours, then bipedal treadmill sprints, stretching, and lunch. Today after lunch though, Ian lead Sputnik to a new room instead of the lounge.
Continue reading Buying Love – Part 4
(to start reading at Part 1, click here)
The collection room, as Rich had called it, was a simple room. Bare walls, almost clinical in feel, with two bars hanging from post in the ceiling. Brett had been stripped out of his clothes, and was now standing idly with a raging boner while Rich went to get the suit that Brett would spend the next couple days in. Rich wasn’t gone long. He returned with his arms full of leather.
“Here we are!” He chortled. “The one pony suit we have is just about your size! All black too. You can be our Black Beauty!”
Brett managed a polite smile, too transfixed by the lush smell of leather and the softness of the suit as it was held up to him. First, his feet went in. The legs were separate, and they were zipped from the knee up. He watched as the velcro flaps were pressed over the zipper seam, making them almost invisible against the sea of black leather. Next the body portion was pulled up. The front was solid, like a straitjacket. And like with a straitjacket, Brett’s arms were pushed into sleeves. Only these sleeves ended at the wrist, leaving his hands free for now. Before the back was zipped up, though Rich knelt in front of him, eyeing his still-throbbing cock.
“Yup, you’re definitely a stallion,” Rich commented as he handled Brett’s cock and churning balls. “Got some heft. They’re going to love you!”
Continue reading Buying Love – Part 3