All posts by Hunter Perez

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My Pal Jock and the Party Guest

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By Hunter Perez

Jock is my best friend and I love him dearly, but there is one thing about him that I dread and that involves his penchant for party giving. It’s not that he’s a bad host – far from it. In fact, his parties are extraordinarily generous regarding the delicious foods being served (most of which he creates in his kitchen) or the selection of beverages made available (some of the most expensive wines and spirits I’ve ever enjoyed).

My problem is that Jock never seems to realize that I don’t fit in with his social set. The guests at Jock’s parties can be divided into three categories. First, there are the money boys – the trust fund babies, the day traders, the hedge fund jockeys and investment bankers who gather and compare their portfolios and share insider tips on the next hot stock. Second, there are the gym bros – they wear the tight t-shirts that show off their musculature while they babble about supplements, steroids and iron pumping. Third, there are the bears – the leather clad beefy guys who congregate on the back porch to smoke their cigars and talk about whatever it is that bears talk about. I’ve never been able to eavesdrop on them, hence my ignorance regarding their conversations.

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My Pal Jock and the Rope Bondage

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By Hunter Perez

Simon looked at his phone’s screen and smiled. “It’s Jock – he’s downstairs in the parking lot and will be up in a minute. Bingo, do you want me to put shorts on you?”

I shook my head glumly. “No, that’s not necessary. Jock knows what a penis looks like – he’s been to museums.”

It was 5:30 on a Tuesday morning in my bedroom. Simon stood by the side of the bed as he slipped into his shorts and t-shirt. I was sitting on the bed, my bottom half unclothed while my top half was also without clothing – although it was also tightly encased in an elaborate web of bright red rope, with my arms bound behind my back.

Only five hours before, Simon announced that he wanted to try something that he viewed in an online video channel belonging to someone called Master Masanori, who claimed to be an expert in Japanese rope bondage. Simon had been studying these videos patiently and was very eager to try Master Masanori’s lessons. To his credit, Simon did a brilliant job recreating a rope pattern called the “Okinawan Fishing Net,” which he secured around my upper body. I will admit there was a strangely invigorating sensation in becoming encased within the intricate twists and turns of the rope. While I was tied up, Simon edged me for the next two hours – it was a kinetic experience that brought out the best in both of us.

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My Pal Jock and the Unexpected Door – Part 2

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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.

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My Pal Jock and the Unexpected Door – Part 1

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By Hunter Perez

My brother was getting married in Calgary and he asked me to attend the ceremony. When I informed Simon that I would be traveling to Canada for the wedding, he volunteered to be my plus-one and added, “This way, we can have our honeymoon before we get married.”

Of course, marrying Simon was the last thing on my mind, so I diplomatically – or dishonestly, depending how you view it – informed him the ceremony would be a small affair for immediate family only. When he started to sulk, I offered him the consolation prize of house-sitting my apartment during my absence. This was a godsend to him, as he was having problems at home – his roommate was unhappy that Simon somehow set fire to their kitchen while making toast. Well, those things happen if you’re Simon.

My week in Calgary was a lot of fun, but the journey home was torture – I had to get up at 3:00 a.m. to be at the airport for a 5:00 a.m. flight to Toronto, where I would change planes to fly home. Unfortunately, the Toronto flight was delayed for several hours, and the ride from the airport during the afternoon rush hour traffic was an assault on the senses. And all through this horrific journey, I imagined that I would find my residence reduced to Simon-fueled wreckage.

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My Pal Jock and the Public Safety Video

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By Hunter Perez

It was Friday at one in the afternoon and I was in my kitchen making a pot of coffee when someone began knocking on my front door to the melody of “Kung Fu Fighting.” There was only one guy who make himself known in that manner.

“Come on in, Jock,” I declared as I opened the door.

Jock raced in with a great smile on his face, wrapped his large muscular arms around me and hoisted me high. “Bingo, baby, I just got my first contract for my new video production business. And it’s a government contract, too, so I’ll be making a ton of money.”

Jock swung me around in a bear hug, perhaps not realizing the depth of his strength. “Jock, you’re squeezing the air out of my lungs. Put me down and I’ll make you some coffee.”

Jock released me and after a few deep breaths I felt better. He sat at the kitchen table, happier than I had seen him in the longest time.

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My Pal Jock and the Cure for Insomnia

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By Hunter Perez

It was a little after one in the morning and I was stretched out on my living room couch watching a cable television channel’s marathon of “The Monkees” episodes. My insomnia had gotten out of control and this was the easiest way to stay comfortable while sleep remained elusive. To my surprise, my phone rang – it was Jock calling.

“Bingo, what are you doing up at this ungodly hour?” Jock asked.

“How did you know I was awake?” I asked. “And why are you calling me? I thought you were in Hawaii doing a photo shoot with some surfer boys.”

“I left Hawaii a day early and my flight got in about 30 minutes ago,” he answered. “I’m at the gas station across the street from your apartment building and I can see your living room light is on. I think you’re the only one in the building who is awake at this hour.”

I looked out the window and spotted Jock standing by his Mercedes at the gas station. I waved to him and he waved back.

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My Pal Jock and the Photo Shoot

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By Hunter Perez

“Jock, I feel ridiculous,” I complained.

“Bingo, you look incredible,” Jock responded with a grin. “Trust me on this.”

We were in the basement of Jock’s house. He was shirtless and shoeless, with a camera hanging by a strap around his neck while his lower body was encased in the tightest denim shorts imaginable — although, truth be told, they left nothing to the imagination. I was naked and standing in a spreadeagle position with my wrists and ankles bound to a wooden St. Andrew’s Cross fastened to a wall.

Now, you may be wondering how I got myself into such an unlikely situation. Well, Jock informed me that the MetalbondNYC.com was running a photo contest that invited readers to submit their best bondage pictures. The winning photo would receive a prize and Jock was confident we could snag that reward.

“But, Jock, this isn’t going to work,” I argued as he studied my cross-bound nudity through his camera lens. “You know what Metal publishes — I don’t look like any of those guys. Guys like JimmyUSMC, Derek Pain, and Connor Maguire are big, muscular, and handsome hunks. Come on, look at me. Ralphie says that I look like Barney Rubble.”

Jock lowered his camera and frowned at me. “You don’t look like Barney Rubble — and don’t listen to Ralphie. He knows how to push your buttons and you always fall for his insults.”

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My Pal Jock and the Raucous Party

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By Hunter Perez

“Jock, will you please let me out of this?” I asked.

“Eventually, Bingo, but not right now,” he responded.

It was around eleven at night and we were in the basement den of Jock’s home. He was reclining on a couch, dressed in tight jeans and a black tank top that seemed to make his pale muscular upper torso glow. I was all in silver – or, to be more precise, I was trapped against a pillar while wrapped from ankles to shoulders in silvery duct tape.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened,” I said.

Jock chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve told you already, I’m not angry at you.”

I tried to push my arms against my duct tape imprisonment, but I was unable to move – the binding was too tight to allow even the slightest of wiggles.

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