All posts by Hunter Perez

Story

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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Story

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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Story

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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Story

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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Story

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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Story

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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Story

My Pal Jock and the Rainy Night – Part 02

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By Hunter Perez

I squirmed on the bed, uncertain about what was going to happen next. Jock’s drunken gaze was indecipherable – I could not tell if he was laughing at my bondage or plotting about how to further humiliate me.

I tried not to show that I was afraid and thought to myself: “What would JimmyUSMC do if he was in my position?” I then unhappily realized the answer: He would probably be collecting a nice fee for his work. After all, JimmyUSMC gets bound up for a living – no wonder he’s always smiling while in chains – whereas I was involuntarily volunteered into a trap of handcuffs, rope and a ball gag.

After staring at me for what seemed like forever, Jock finally lumbered to the headboard and pulled at the chain connecting my handcuffs. He rubbed his fingers over the cuffs and scratched his fingernails lightly into my skin.

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Story

My Pal Jock and the Rainy Night – Part 01

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By Hunter Perez

I looked out of my apartment window at the thunderstorm soaking the neighborhood. It was a Saturday night and, for once, I was glad that I had no plans to go out. The weather forecast called for downpours into the following afternoon, so the warm comfort of my little one-bedroom sanctuary was more than satisfying.

I heated a frozen pizza, open a bottle of soda, plopped myself on my couch, switched on the TV and found an obscure cable channel that was running an endless series of old-time cartoons. Even though I saw those zany films a hundred million times, I could still laugh at Yosemite Sam getting a cannonball blasted into his face or Sylvester the Cat ingesting a dynamite stick.

Somewhere in the animation mayhem, I fell into a sound sleep. It was a beautiful slumber, until my peace was ended with a pounding on my front door that shook me awake. I glanced at my clock and found it was shortly after midnight. Confused and groggy, I stumbled from the couch to the door. I inquired about the source of the pounding and a loud voice beyond the door declared it was my pal Jock.

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