By GratDelay

This was it!

Finally I was getting the relief my body had been craving desperately for… less than 10 minutes???

My attention was drawn away from the beautiful sight hovering inches away from my eyes, back to the center of my helpless body’s universe. Dang I’m poetical. With just a touch from his hand, I sensed the familiar climb to orgasm, and it felt like it was going to be particularly strong.

I can’t describe to you how deep the need is when this drug kicks in. There was no enjoyment of the rising pleasure, no giddy anticipation, no urge to prolong the feeling of horniness. Pure animal lust overrides all other considerations, and this makes the immobilization of one’s limbs particularly cruel. In fact it was unbearable, not that that changed my situation (is something you can’t bear but have to bear anyway actually unbearable?).

So I was feeling relief and happiness when Adin gave my cock one stroke. Then he took his hand away, and I was plunged into shock and dismay.

I didn’t cum.

It was impossible! I know my body’s responses, and I know when I have gone past the point of no return, and at that moment I was well past it.

I didn’t cum.

I was in a frenzy, though all Adin could see of it was me scrunching up my face. I struggled with all of my mental energy to get something, anything, to touch my dick and finish the job.

Nothing happened.

“Are we done with the emo stuff now? Can we have some fun?” Adin said as he sat back down next to me, a mischievous look on his face. He let his hand hover within inches of my cock, and I was sending frantic signals to my hips to get closer to that hand.

“What the fuck!” I said, then, “you… gotta help… me out!”

With a grin he said, “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

“Please, please please,” was all I could get out.

“Remember when I said there were a couple of unfortunate side-effects?”

A sense of dread seeped into my horny desperation. “??” I grunted.

“How about I just show you.”

Thank God, his hand was moving back towards my dick. With the lightest of touches he used my own copious pre-cum to lube me up. Even that was enough to make me shoot.

Or should have been. I didn’t shoot. My body was gasping, and I couldn’t have said anything if I tried.

Adin then started stroking me in earnest. Not too hard, but definitely hard enough.

That’s when my troubles really began.

Indescribable waves of pleasure were transmitted from his hand into my body through the perfectly attuned receptor. His hand became the Hand of God for me, filling me with blessings my mortal body was too frail to endure. Had I been able to, I would have screamed. Instead, my breath came in tiny gasps. My body, not under my control, started to shudder and tense up for what had to be the biggest orgasm of my life.

Which didn’t happen.

The stroking continued, the pleasure mounted, my body bucked. There was nothing in my head but the exquisite feeling of being at that moment, the one you always wished would go on longer. Afterwards. But at that moment, your body does not say “I wish this would go on longer,” it says “Now. Now! NOW! NOW!”

This is what my body was screaming to me, drowning out all other thought, but something was very wrong, because NOW! stayed and did not stop. It was the most earth-shattering thing that had ever happened to me, and it kept on happening, with every stroke of my best friend’s hand.

While my body was moving now, arching like I was having a seizure, it was still not under my control. I would have done anything to make this perfect pleasure stop, or rather, finish.

There was no way for me to judge how long that ecstatic torture lasted, because it seemed like it would never end, but Adin told me later he stroked me for about 5 minutes. He only stopped when it looked like I was having real trouble breathing.

Freed from the torment, my body flopped back flat onto the couch, which was now soaking up my sweat. My left arm was hanging off the couch. It may as well have been chained to the floor. I was gasping again, then my breathing slowly settled down. Tears were streaming from my eyes, and I wanted badly to sob.

Compared to what I had just been through, I was enjoying a moment of comfortable relaxation, but emotionally I was destroyed. I did not know how to process the experience. Being pinned down made it worse, because I wanted to run, or grab Adin and throw him down and rip his jeans off and… already I was back to thinking horny thoughts. That’s because, despite my recent ‘peak experience’ and the ensuing emotional turmoil, my cock was still clamoring for attention. If I could, I would be jacking off for all I was worth, even knowing what it would do to me.

This was the second side effect.

I couldn’t cum.

This was the most evil drug ever invented! I thought.

And part of me started to hope it wouldn’t wear off too soon.

Adin was still sitting next to me. He had been watching me intently as my breathing returned to normal. We made eye contact, and I felt a surge of emotions that I had trouble picking apart. Definitely there was love, but there was also fear, because of his total control over me and what I knew he could do to me. But there was also… awe? I felt like I would do anything he asked; like it was right and proper that he had control over me. Is this sub-space? I wondered. I had never actually felt submissive. To anybody.

He was still smiling, but the mischievous look had changed to something more tender. “So, how was your first fifteen minutes?”

I rolled my eyes around, trying to see a clock. Fifteen minutes??? I felt like I had just finished my first cross-fit session.

“I’m going to… die here, aren’t… I” I croaked.

“Le très grande petite mort pour vous!”

I was sort of rallying a bit; at least I was able to think a bit again. “How long… do these side… effects last?”

“One of them for a couple of days; the other for about a hour,” he said, as he got up and walked into my bedroom.

“Dick!… Which… is which?” I hoped he could hear my faint voice. I tried to play out the two different scenarios. I know I was going to be horned up for about 10 hours. Would it be worse to be unable to move for a couple of days or unable to cum for a couple of days? As fantasies go, they both sounded hot, but they’d both probably be a PitA IRL.

Adin didn’t answer. A minute later he came back out of my room and sat back down on the edge of the couch. He was holding a bottle of my lube and a towel from my bathroom. Uh oh. He started to open the bottle, but then he got a ‘I changed my mind’ look and stood up. He planted the bottle between my legs up against my balls (damn that felt awesome) and made a tent with the towel and my tent-pole. I swear I could feel every strand of the coarse cloth on the head of my cock. My body shivered. Adin waited until I looked from the towel up at him, and then he slowly took his shirt off. I visualized jumping up and worshipping his chest with my tongue. If I could have, I was so horny that I might have actually done it. But he wasn’t done. Slowly, deliberately, he undid each button of his jeans.

I was amazed. Was he really going to… ?

Slowly the jeans slid down his legs, and he stepped gracefully out of them. I stared hungrily at his powerful-looking calves, until I realized what he was doing further up. His thumbs were in the waist band of his boxers, sliding back and forth, as if he were trying to decide. I tried to move his hands with my mind just as hard as I had been trying to move mine. Then, just like that, he slid the briefs off, and I got to see something I hadn’t seen since we had been in high school together. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. And he was sporting a bit of wood too!

I was so confused. Had he been holding out on me all this time?

Knowing that he was giving me a gift, he did a slow 360. His ass was still glorious. Despite our ‘emo’ session less than 10 minutes before, I decided not to say that I wished he would shove it in my face again, now that it was uncovered. Deep inhibitions die hard, I guess.

Adin sat back down next to me, skin against skin. And my skin was still one big erogenous zone. Did the drug work in waves, or was he triggering it? because the lust was once again starting to banish other thoughts from my mind. I wanted so badly to reach up and caress his thighs, to move closer to his beautiful cock, which was sooo close. But my body was still a prison. It was maddening.

He flipped the towel off my dick and draped it over my face. “Fucker” I growled, or rather, wheezed. I heard the lid being popped off and the squirting sound. I braced myself, at least mentally. I wanted this so badly, but didn’t know how I could stand it again.

Then I felt him shift, and he started massaging my feet! “Bastard” I breathed, but I have to admit, it felt amazing. Usually my ticklishness kept me from really enjoying someone touching my feet, but this drug had banished the ticklishness, even though it cranked the sensitivity up to 11. I realized that a total body massage would be glorious — that is, it would be if I weren’t obsessed with getting a dick massage. With every caress of my feet, my lust was ramping up again. The need was becoming overpowering again, and still I was as helpless as if I was stuck in a vac rack. I started muttering “fuck fuck fuck”.

I wondered if he actually was going to give me a total body massage, which would have been a whole other way to drive me crazy, but suddenly he said, “Look at the time!” Not that I could. I guessed it had been about 20 minutes since I had inhaled his evil experimental drug. As he stood up, he removed the towel from my face, then tossed the back cushions off the couch. He tucked my arms under my sides, my hands pressed flat against my own buttocks. “What are you… doing?”

Ignoring me, he climbed up onto the couch, and facing my feet, he straddled my chest. His glorious ass was blocking my view again. And his balls were touching my body!! Emotionally, I was reacting to his normally-covered body parts like my friend Richie getting to meet Billie Eilish backstage. I wanted to touch and grab so badly, but all I could touch was my own ass. Couldn’t even give mine a squeeze.

He lowered himself down a bit, resting his weight on me, then raised himself. He looked at me over his shoulder to ask, “Can you breathe when I do that?”

“Not really.” I had to admit.

“Ah well.” So he stayed astride me, but did not sit down. This afforded me a view of his ass, his junk, and my junk, all at once.

This was all just preparation for round two. He squirted more lube on his hand, then squirted some directly onto my pole. I could feel precisely which skin cells were coated and which were still dry, and track the progress of the fluid down my shaft in exquisite detail. At that point I still had the presence of mind to decide that I didn’t care that he was going to stain my couch. It was worth it to buy new fucking cushions.

Then he started lightly swirling all five fingers of one hand around the crown of my dick. It was as intense as a knob-polishing, and I couldn’t get away from it. I’m not ready for this I thought, then everything fled my brain except for awareness of my cock.

He didn’t do that for long. He switched to a gentle stroking of my whole shaft. I think he was aware how dialed up my sensitivity was, and was trying to modulate the pressure he applied. Or maybe a light touch was what he liked. Still, it was nearly as intense as last time. All my nerves lit up like a christmas tree, and within seconds, at was once again at the crest of the hugest wave I’d ever been on.

And once again, the wave wouldn’t crest. I was trapped. My best friend, the object of my lust, was sitting on me naked, and I couldn’t touch him. My hypothalamus had been tweaked so that I was obsessed with getting off, and at the same time, I could not get off. My friend was doing everything that normally would send me over the edge, but I was held there, at the edge. My mind scrambled for any thought, any action to change this situation, but there was nothing to grasp, no muscle to stimulate. I could only lie there, taking it.

The longer it went on, the more urgent my need grew. My body was bucking and clenching again, but was held in place by Adin’s thighs. Just the motion of my body lifting and falling, pressing his junk to my chest and pulling away from it, became a kind of sex in its own right, due to the heightened sensitivity. But this sex was no more satisfying that the main event a few inches south of there. Every movement of his hand up and down my shaft send waves of pleasure through my groin and up my spine. Shreds of thought flittered by: will my nervous system burn out? Is this tantra? I can’t. I have to. Please!” It was pleasure, but the kind that demands action, resolution. I had given up all control; Adin was providing action, but there was no resolution. In a normal situation, one would stroke harder to finish the deed, but I could do nothing to vary the stimulation; and it wouldn’t have worked anyway.

It was the perfect moment of endless ecstasy, my dream come true. For a moment I remembered that, and a bubble of joy surfaced. This was it!

My love of bondage could in a sense be distilled down in essence to an elaborate set of tricks to keep me from coming sooner than I intended to. I loved being in that maximally-aroused stage. Why wouldn’t I? It felt great! Whenever it was over, I thought about how great it would be if it lasted longer. I inevitably let myself down by giving in to my own body’s demand to shoot; and this led to devising tools and scenarios to take that choice away. But here’s the thing: if my schemes worked, I wouldn’t be able to control when it stopped. The guy who takes away control from the guy who couldn’t resist shooting can’t give that control back, because there is really only one guy.

I certainly didn’t articulate this thought as Adin straddled me, steadily and gently driving me into a frenzy. But I did experience a sudden frisson when I discovered I wasn’t the guy who wanted to resist shooting; I was the other guy — not the jailor but the prisoner. The need to shoot was growing and I couldn’t get away from it; nor could I turn back into the jailor and give myself release. That is what made the experience ecstatic and unbearable at the same time. And the drug that made it last longer made the need far stronger than I had ever experienced.

The joy evaporated, but so did thought. I was reduced to experiencing two diametrically opposed imperatives, neither of which I could act on.

No, that’s too technical. Adin was mooning me and stroking my steel-hard cock, sending exquisite waves of pleasure along my nerves and I needed to come so badly that I was losing my mind. After this went on for several eternities, I let out a yell of pure frustration.

Wait… I yelled?

That was Adin’s cue, apparently. The stroking stopped, allowing me to pull back from the abyss, just an inch. He climbed off of me while wiping the lube and my precum off his hands. He ambled in to the kitchen as I took stock. I still couldn’t move, but if I tried… yes! I could control my lungs. I took a deep, shuddering sigh. That felt so good!

I took another full breath, then shouted, “FUCK!” at the top of my lungs. I decided if the cops showed up, I’d tell them I stepped on a lego. With my dick.

Adin came back into the living room with a steel water bottle. He squatted down beside me and put the spigot to my lips. I sucked greedily on it for a bit. Releasing the spigot, I asked, “Does this mean the paralysis is wearing off?”

“It’s starting to. I goes away more slowly than it starts, which is good. It’s good that you get a warning. You should take it easy… think what would happen if your muscles suddenly kick in while you’re in the middle of trying as hard as you can to move.”

That made a lot of sense. This was a new frustration for the night: I had never stopped trying to move, and now that it might work, I was supposed to try not to.

I wanted to talk to Adin about whether the horniness would be cranked up this high for the whole ten hours, but he walked away again. “Hey!” I said, loudly. It really felt great to be able to control my own volume.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he said as he went into my bedroom. Why was he going in there? I heard him rummaging around in my closet… I heard the slither of leather, the rattle of buckles…

Oh no.

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