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.

Unfortunately, Simon’s rope work was a little too good. While he had no difficulty knotting the ropes around my upper torso, getting them unknotted was another matter. Sadly, Master Masanori didn’t have any videos on how to untie the “Okinawan Fishing Net” and neither Simon’s fingers nor the knives in my utensil drawer could release the rope that bound me.

Since Jock was the only guy I knew who owned hunting knives that could cut through the ropes, I unhappily realized that he would need to be called to get me loose. I had no choice but to ask Simon to text Jock and come over to rescue me.

My front door vibrated with Jock’s knuckle rapping to the tune of “Kung Fu Fighting” and Simon declared “I’ll get it!” as he ran from the bedroom. I heard the front door creak open and Jock boomed, “Whoa, Simon! Look at you! You’ve put on more muscle since I last saw you. And those arms. What are your biceps now, 18 inches?”

Simon giggled. “Oh, come on, I’m not that big.”

“You could be if you keep at it,” Jock continued. “Have you ever thought of fitness modeling? I know an agent who can get you in muscle magazines. You should let me photograph you.”

Simon giggled again. “Oh, I can’t do that.”

My patience frayed as I called out, “Hello? I’m growing old in here.”

Jock lumbered into the bedroom wearing a sweat stained t-shirt and tight shorts. He carried a large black box that he placed on the bed before me. Jock then studied the ropes that held me in bondage and shook his head with a smirk.

“Really nice,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Imagine what the Okinawan fishermen would think if they found you in their nets?”

“I assume you brought your knives,” I said, motioning to the box.

Jock opened the box and took out a pair of elaborate Bowie knives. “Of course, I came prepared. I got these babies last year as a Christmas present from my Uncle Pecos in Texas. You remember when my Uncle Pecos came to visit, Bingo?”

I nodded with a small half-smile. “Yeah, I remember your Uncle Pecos. He had a guitar and sang ‘Froggy Went a Courtin.’ Quite a character – but your cat was really afraid of him.”

Simon stepped over and examined the Bowie knives with awe. “Hey, Jock, would you like me to make you some breakfast?”

Jock gave Simon a big toothy smile. “What a nice thing to offer, Simon. Thank you. What are you making?”

“Well, you have two choices,” Simon said. “Bingo likes a bowl of Froot Loops and a banana, but I prefer to make protein pancakes with a side of scrambled egg whites and another side of vegan sausages, along with a sliced avocado and a tall glass of carrot juice.”

Jock fingered Simon’s right bicep and purred, “Oh, so that’s the secret to those muscles. Sure, I’ll have your idea of a breakfast.”

Simon happily left the room and Jock looked at me with a dreamy expression. “You’re so lucky to have a boyfriend who can cook.”

I looked back at Jock and winced. “He’s not my boyfriend and he’s the world’s worst cook. You’ll know breakfast is ready when the smoke detector goes off.”

Jock closed the bedroom door and sat directly next to me on the bed. His gym-blasted body had a deep sweaty aroma and his pumped arms barely fit his t-shirt’s sleeves. If my arms weren’t trapped behind my back under all of that damn rope, I’d be pawing all over him.

“Can I ask you a personal question,” he whispered. “What is the nature of your relationship with Simon?”

I looked at him curiously, as I didn’t expect that question. “My relationship? What relationship? He gets off work at the gas station at 12:30 in the morning, then he comes across the street and upstairs to my place. We have sex and then we go to sleep. He’s usually out of here by six – sometimes he stays for breakfast and then leaves. He texts me a couple of times during the day, and then he’s back here once he’s off work. Why are you asking?”

Jock took one of his Bowie knives and began to use its tip to extract dirt from his fingernails. “What happens when he’s not working? Do you guys go on dates?”

“He invites himself over here if there is a wrestling match on pay-per-view because his roommate won’t let him watch that on TV at their place,” I said. “But we don’t go out to movies or restaurants, if that’s what you mean. We really have no common likes in anything except what we do in bed. Jock, what’s with the questions about Simon?”

Jock stared sadly at his fingertips and slumped his broad shoulders. “Well, I might as well come out and say it: I think I’m in love with Simon.”

I watched Jock clean his fingernails and I realized that the long he was giving himself a Bowie knife manicure, the longer I would be wrapped up in the rope. I hoped that we could get his angst out of the way quickly so I could get out of the ropes.

“So, why don’t you tell him how you feel?” I asked.

Jock shook his head softly. “I tried. The other week, I swung by the gas station when I knew he was taking a meal break. I took him to a keto café that I know he likes and tried to tell him how I felt, but all he could talk about was you. He was like: ‘Bingo is so cute and Bingo is so cuddly and Bingo is so smart and Bingo is so patient.’ He couldn’t get over how patient you were over that incident with the dishwasher.”

I clenched my eyes shut and threw my head back. “Please don’t remind me about the dishwasher.”

I felt Jock’s heavy arm on my shoulders and I opened my eyes to find him looking upon me with sadness. “Bingo, I don’t want do anything to disrupt your relationship with Simon. But I get the feeling that his feelings for you aren’t really shared. If he isn’t your boyfriend and you don’t mind, would it be okay if I asked him out on a date?”

“Jock, you’re more than willing to take Simon off of my hands – provided that I can get my hands back,” I said.

Jock lifted his arm from my shoulders and looked at my predicament. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot – you’re still tied up. And what kind of rope is that?”

“He said he got it at a store at the marina,” I grumbled. “Can you please cut me out of this?”

Jock tried to tuck his fingers into the ropes, but they were too tight to my body for him grab. He peeked around my back and clicked his tongue.

“I am going to have to cut you from your back, Bingo,” he said. “It will probably take a few minutes – Simon has you wrapped up in maritime rope, and that can be hard to slice. Can you lie down on your stomach?”

As I wasn’t able to maneuver myself easily, Jock carefully moved me so I was face down on my bed. Just as I got comfortable, the apartment’s smoke detector went off, followed by Simon yelling “Sorry about that, Bingo!”

“I hope you like your pancakes cremated,” I said. “Trust me, after having Simon cook for you, you’ll want to tie him up.”

Jock tousled my hair and clicked his tongue again. “Hey, that’s not such a bad idea.”

Simon bounded into the bedroom and joyfully announced that Jock’s breakfast was ready. Jock snapped his fingers and said, “Simon, you did an incredible job tying up Bingo. Have you ever been tied up?”

Simon giggled and replied, “Oh, no, but it looks like fun.”

“Well,” Jock continued. “My Uncle Pecos from Texas was also a rodeo cowboy and he used to hogtie cattle in competition. He showed me how to hogtie – would you like to be hogtied?”

Simon giggled and Jock asked if there was any additional rope laying around. Simon retrieved the rope and Jock told him disrobe and lay next to me on the bed with his face down.

“Hey, Jock, shouldn’t you cut me out of this first?” I asked.

“One thing at a time,” Jock answered as he moved Simon’s arms behind his back. Within a matter of minutes, Jock had Simon hogtied on the bed.

“How does it feel, pardner?” Jock asked Simon.

“Oh, damn, this is intense!” declared Simon. “I really like this.”

Jock caressed Simon’s bare backside. “Well, you know what – I’m going to have that wonderful breakfast you made me. And what time is it – oh, it’s six o’clock already? I always like to watch ‘Squawk Box’ on CNBC when I have breakfast. That goes off at nine – how would you like to be my hogtied prisoner while I have a leisurely breakfast and catch up on the business news?”

“Wow, can I?” Simon squealed.

“Uh, Jock, aren’t you forgetting something?” I interjected.

“Bingo, you keep an eye on Simon and make sure he doesn’t untie himself,” Jock answered, which he suffixed by slapping me hard across my bare backside. Jock walked out of the bedroom and shut the door.

Simon looked at me with an ecstatic smile. “Oh, Bingo, isn’t this great? I feel like we’re in one of those videos where they have two guys tied up side-by-side. Isn’t this exciting? I love being imprisoned with you by your pal Jock.”

I stared at Simon with astonishment. “Seriously,” I thought. “How do I get myself into situations like this?”

The End