Tough Guy

By Cutieboy90

Cutieboy90 handcuffsGary is a big lug. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky masculine swagger, the blond construction worker is the epitome of tough guy. Yeah, he’s a big tough manly man, but once he’s out of the carharts and steel-toed boots, he’s just a big teddybear. This afternoon, he’s hogtied on the bed next to me as I write. His hair is matted with sweat, and he’s panting lightly though the thick socks tied in his mouth. He wriggles his toes as I brush my fingertips along his body, idly tracing his spine and ribs. I can see his eyes fluttering gently.

“That’s it, big guy,” I whisper in a soothing voice. “You get to relax now that I’ve got you.”

“Mmmmhmmm…” Gary moans with a nod.

I reach over his broad back and feel his feet.

“Tsk tsk, you’re working so hard these days. Your poor feet!” I start rubbing the heels with a pumice stone. Gary jerks in his restraints with a muffled yelp.

“MMMMMMHMMHHMMMHMMMM!!” Oh yes that’s right. I forget how ticklish my man is. Silly me. I have to be mindful about how I treat his feet, especially when using the pumice. Not that it changes anything. Gary has beautiful big feet, and I keep them soft as the day he was born. And perhaps I like watching him squirm.

I keep the pressure light as I scrub away from his heel and up the sole. Gary shrieks with laughter, bucking desperately.

“Shhhh babe,” I say. “Breathe through it.” I know from experience that my words are lost on him. All he can think about is the stimulation and tickle hell his foot is enduring.


I watch Gary’s back bend, and his thick leg muscles flex. His hips grind, making his rock-solid glutes dance. Hogtied like he is, he isn’t going anywhere though. I feel a slight resistance under the stone as it scrapes toward the ball of the foot. Aha! The beginnings of a callous. Gary has stopped squealing like a stuck pig, even though I’m still running the stone over his skin. I shake my head to myself. Callouses hinder sensitivity. Obviously I can’t tickle or pleasure these gorgeous size 14’s if the man can’t feel it.

I wipe the surface of his foot with a damp cloth. This particular job will require a different approach. The skin is leathery, so I get out the electric file. It has a circular, rotating face with three different speeds. I select a coarse grain stone, and turn the switch. The motor does the work. The tough skin begins to give way. Powdery shavings fall lightly over Gary’s heel and down his bulging calf muscle. His toes twitch.

Gary has been quiet. Laying in his hogtie, eyes resting peacefully. I stroke his arm, and hold his hand. With a slight urgency in his breathing, Gary starts to hump the mattress. I give his rump an encouraging pat, and watch him slowly grind.

“Mmmmmmmphhh…” Gary isn’t close. He’s horny, and wants to be close. After a long week on his feet, he just wants to rest for a little while. Once he gets that though, he remembers that he’s horny and wants to blow his load. Again, this is another reason I tie him up when he gets home. So we can take the time to enjoy it together. Nice and slow.

I hold the file still as it continues its work while I reach between his legs and pull his dick from under him so it’s pointing down from his body. Trapped against the mattress and framed between his treetrunk thighs, his thick 7 inch tool is hard and throbbing. Gary’s large apricot-sized balls are tight in the sack. I give them a tender stroke.

“UUUNGHHHHH!!” Gary bucks with a groan, arching his back and lifting his head and shoulders off the bed. A pearl of his seed grows at the tip of his meaty cock.

Gary’s nuts are heavy and full. I can feel they’re swollen, and pent-up. Poor Gary, spending weeks on end enduring long hours of heavy physical labor surrounded by muscular working men. Sweating in the elements, soaking in musky, testosterone-laden air. You’d better believe such an environment has an effect on a man’s sex drive. Gay or not, fetishist or not.

“NnnnNNNGHHHH…!” Gary’s desperate whine calls my attention back. A sweat has broken out across his back, and his fat cock throbs angrily. He bucks like a rodeo calf for all he’s worth. He’s too horny for me to be nice…

I take a stiff feather, and begin to tickle at Gary’s neck. His eyes grow wide, and his breath catches and holds. He scrunches up his neck to protect one of his most sensitive spots. So I leave it alone.

For now.

I trace the feather in idle circles and figure eights on Gary’s shoulder, while I inspect the progress of the electric file. Still a bit of tough, yellowish skin right at the base of the arch. I switch the coarse stone out for a different grit. This one is a special ceramic, with an interesting openness to its grain. The result? Well…

Gary moans, curling his toes at the new sensation. He jumps as the feather lashes against his side. His hips still grind against the mattress. Trapped by his own arousal and desires, like an animal in a cage.


Yes. His own arousal, and my ropework.

His back arches, yet with his dick pulled down between his legs, he can’t get any friction on it. No amount of humping will get him closer to his release, and the hogtie prevents his movements almost completely. Not that it’s necessary. Gary can shoot his boiling load if he chooses to. If he wills himself to.

Another caress of his ribs with the feather. He twists, trying to protect his side.

I go for the other.

He twists again.

I plunge the feather tip under his nutsack, and tickle his taint with a tight zig-zag pattern.

The fine shavings from the file fall gently like snow over Gary’s massive thigh. His thick bubble butt looks like a pair of sugar-dusted beignets.

Gary’s struggles become erratic. The file is doing its work fast, and the feather under his balls is starting to get… “UUUUUHHHHHGGHHH!??”

“That’s it, buddy.” I whisper. “Almost there.”

“UHUH! UH HUHUHAHAAAAHHHHHGH..!” He bites the worn socks in his mouth, as if he has any other choice. His feet tense, his back flexes, his fingers ball into fists.

Shavings are no longer falling from the file; Gary is just being tickled on newly-exposed skin.

Gary is panting hard between his body-wracking laughter. His toes begin to twitch.


I lick my lips watching his futile struggles. This is my favorite part.

A wildness appears in Gary’s eyes, a desperate realization suddenly at dawn.

With his body tensed, and drawn back on itself so tight that even the ropes hogtying him have slack, Gary cums. His cock shooting heavy, thick spurts of man spunk. Gary’s cock is so hard it doesn’t even throb or twitch.

“Good job, babe,” I tell him as I ruin his orgasm with the file and feather.

Gary shrieks into his gag, struggling wildly. Our soft mattress impedes his effort to escape the torment. Just when it looks like he’s about to pass out, I switch off the file. I stroke his broad shoulders, and his sweat-matted hair.

Gary huffs through his gag. The socks are thick, but Gary has been gagged long enough that the socks are soaked through. There’s a wet spot of his sweat and drool on the pillow under his chin. He’s smiling through the gag, lost in his exhaustion. He lays limp and calm, occasionally his fingers twitch. The ceramic polishing stone has done its work. Gary’s foot is smooth as glass, and a cute shade of light pink. I nuzzle into it, feeling its softness against my lips.

“There. Much, much better!” I hum into the sole of Gary’s foot. “You have the most amazing feet… You beautiful man.”

“Mmmmmm…” Gary moans happily and wiggles his toes. I give each sweet digit a sensual kiss.

Then I pick up the pumice stone, and start on the other foot.

The End


Metal would like to thank Cutieboy90 for this story! You can find Cutieboy90 on his Pornhub page by clicking here.


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