By PFC Pflege
I knew, generally, it was coming, but still I was totally unprepared for it when it happened. Scott’s revenge, I mean. He’s jumped me before, and made it stick – tying my hands before I know what’s going on, and then working me over. He loves jumping me, because I am taller and more solid than he is; and my arms and legs are very muscular. I love showing off my 17-inch biceps in tight t-shirts. Scott is a young, lithe, muscled wrestler, but if I ever lock him again in a bear hug, as I did once, all his wrestling skills are nothing, and he would, as he did, have to submit. We have been doing stuff to each other for a number of years, all of it involving bondage in one form or the other.
Last time was Scott’s turn to get it, and he got it like this. I had him put on his wrestling singlet, smooth tight Lycra, and nothing else. The singlet showed off his muscles, his toned chest and abdomen, and his packed crotch. The singlet was tight, and I could see his big dick and his twin nuts outlined in the Lycra. As I tied his hands in front of him, I ground my knee gently into the package, feeling his cock hardening in the singlet. Then, I jerked his hands upwards, with a rope over a rafter. We were in my basement, which looked as if it were designed for bondage, with overhead rafters and pipes, and steel posts holding up the floor above. Lots of ways and places Scott could tie me, or I could tie him.
