Farmer Fucks Hogtied Farmhand

(by Anonymous)
[(Illustrations by SEAN)]
Bound & Gagged Sep-Oct 1999



INDIANA. You wanted to hear true bondage stories? Here is my own personal story.
It’s not a recent story by any means, since I’m 52 years old. But every word is
true. I really don’t give a shit if you believe it or not. But I lived it, you
wanted to hear it, so here goes.

I had always worked during my high school years. This was especially true
the summer after I graduated. I needed to save money for my freshman year at
college. I worked for a friend’s father, in his tire store business. It was hot,
dirty, manual work, but well paid, and I stayed in pretty good shape. I was
never the bodybuilder type. I was 6 ft. tall and skinny for a lot of my high
school years. But by the summer of this story, I had filled out to a lean but
semi-muscular swimmer’s build. My cock is not porno star huge, but I do have a
good eight inches, and fairly thick. No doubt it appeared even larger on my slim
body of those days than it might now.
Just for reference, I must say that in those days I was pretty much
sexually oriented to women. Not that I had a whole lot of experience with them.
It was small town Indiana in the late 60s. My experience with other guys was
limited to some typical early teens jack off sessions while reading Playboy,
etc. These sessions with a select buddy or two eventually evolved into some
mutual jerking of each other’s cocks. The one experience I had with oral sex was
with a close friend who was two years older. I honestly had never heard, or
thought, about cocksucking. Remember, small town Indiana in the 60s, far
different than N.Y. or L.A. or the like.
On a sleepover, and the usual mutual fondling and jack off that ensued, my
friend told me about oral, and talked me into trying it. I’ll never forget the
hot meaty taste of his cock. How it was hard and soft feeling at the same time.
I certainly never forgot the feel of his mouth on mine. I had never had anything
on my cock at this day in time except a jacking hand. It can’t be said that we
sucked each other off. Neither of us really knew what we were doing. We just
sort of mouthed each other. Sucked a little. Fooled around. Ended up back in the
usual jack each other off deal. This was the same friend whose father owned the
tire store where I later worked. By the time of this main story, we both were
totally away from our earlier involvement and oriented toward girls/women. He
was already two years into college. He did work his summers for his father. We
essentially worked together, but our stage of private pleasures had passed.
That covers what I feel is the necessary background. So now comes the real
story of interest to you, I assume.
Even though I had a car, I often walked a couple of blocks every day, to
have lunch at a small mom and pop diner. On my way back to work one day, a
pickup truck pulled over to the curb, and this guy motioned me over.
At first I didn’t think a whole lot about it because I recognized him as a
regular customer at the tire store. He was a farmer in his 40s, and was always
coming in with some flat or damaged tire from one of his farm tractors or other
equipment. He asked me if I had to work that afternoon. Said he needed some help
on his farm real bad, and that he’d pay me good. I told him I couldn’t, that I
had to work. He asked me if I had any days off that I could come help. I told
him Sunday was my only full day off. He wrote his phone # on a piece of paper
and told me to call him if I had time and wanted the money.
There really wasn’t anything at all unusual about a farmer like him hiring
young guys for summer work. I knew several guys who worked on farms to make
summer money. But as I thought about it later at work, there was just something
about him pulling over like that and all, that struck me funny. Strange “vibes”
or what ever you want to call it. However, I did need and want the extra money.
I didn’t call him that week. But as fate moves, the next week he came in
the store and I ended up fixing a tire for him. He asked about me helping him
again, so I agreed.
I went out to his place that Sunday after lunch. I will say that my
strange “vibes” passed as I did help him with some work. It was hot, he wanted
to take a break. We went to his house, and he offered me a coke or a beer. I
wasn’t 21 yet, obviously, so like most guys in those days, I jumped at the
chance for a beer. One beer led to two, imagine that! But I did not get drunk.
No, there was something else in that beer. To this day, I don’t know what it
was. Sort of like this “Ruphinol” nowadays, I suppose. I didn’t pass out, but I
was weak, I was in a fog of sorts. I knew what was going on for the most part,
but it was like I couldn’t resist. There were also periods that were a total
blank, but I don’t think I was ever truly asleep or passed out. Anyway, I don’t
think he gave me a whole lot of whatever it was. After awhile, I seemed to be
fully awake and aware again.
But by that time, I was nude and tied spreadeagle face up on a bed. In
fact, the first real lucid thing I remember was not being bound, but of him
forcing a gag into my mouth. Looking back, I assume he must have waited to gag
me until I was out of my stupor. This was strictly rope bondage, no contrived or
fancy gear. I couldn’t even tell exactly what he stuffed in my mouth. But he
tied it in place with rope.
Even though I had those “vibes” when he first approached me, I never
imagined this would happen. But I have to admit that I didn’t really experience
genuine fear. Lots of apprehension, especially at first. But not terror or fear.
It was very obvious, even to a young and naive guy like me, that he was wanting
me for male sex. I sure didn’t know what that really meant either. But I really
didn’t think he was going to torture or kill me. I had told my friend I was
going out to work for him that afternoon. I had told my dad I was going out
there. My car was parked in front of his farmhouse all afternoon, and could be
seen from the county road easily. Foolish? Naive? Rationalizing? All I know is
that I wasn’t in real fear, but certainly apprehensive.
I definitely “tested” the ropes holding me to the four bed posts, as well
as the gag, as he stripped off his own clothes. He was lean and more muscular
than I, and of course his body had a definite older appearance to it. Obviously,
my eyes could not escape looking at his cock. The fact that he already had a
hard-on just added to the draw. His cock was not porno star huge either. In
fact, he seemed to be about the same size I was, maybe a little larger. Like my
friend from the earlier encounters, he was uncircumcised. That was almost an
object of curiosity for me, since I was cut.
He said to me, “Relax, boy, I’m not going to hurt you, but you’re going to
learn about how it can be with a man.” I definitely moaned and struggled as he
climbed on the bed. It was a strange mix of apprehension about what he might do,
yet I already knew how it felt to be touched sexually by another guy. It turned
out I only thought I knew what it was like to be touched sexually by another
guy. His hands and mouth were all over me, and I mean “all over me,” at least
what he could get to with me in that position. I could not help myself. It
wasn’t long before my cock was hard. In fact, it felt as if it was as hard as it
had ever been.
His hands caressed, and stroked, and jacked my cock, so much better than
my fumbling boyhood buddies. I wouldn’t say that I lost my apprehension
entirely, but my focus sure shifted. All I could think of was my cock and his
hands on it. He finally settled between my legs, with my cock right in front of
his face. I wasn’t so dumb that I didn’t realize what he was going to do.
“Ever had your cock sucked off, boy?” he asked me. I tried to say no, but
it ended up just a gagged moan. But I was shaking my head as well. “Just relax
and enjoy,” he said. “You’ll love it.”
I hadn’t lied saying no, that earlier playing around at a 69 with my
friend certainly was not a real suck off. He didn’t lie either. I couldn’t help
myself. His mouth on my cock was the best sexual thing I had ever felt. By this
time, I had fucked a couple of girls in the back seat of my car. It was great to
be sure. Yet back then, those girls were dumb, naive, less than experienced or
enthusiastic, they were a pussy to fuck. Sure I liked it, but they knew nothing
about pleasing a man, and they sure didn’t suck cock.
I have never been the type to cum real fast. But I was young then, and
this was my first real blowjob. It didn’t take real long before I shot my load
into his mouth. I had never cum that hard or felt anything like it. He kept
sucking until I couldn’t stand it, and was moaning and jerking in my bonds. My
cock shined with moisture when he got up, but he had devoured all my cum.
“You get a ten minute rest, boy, and then I want more,” was all he said.
He left the room briefly and came back carrying more rope. I remember
thinking it hadn’t been ten minutes when he got back on the bed between my legs.
“Time to try something else, boy,” he said.
I felt him pulling on my balls. I strained to look down, and saw the rope
he had brought was actually thinner cord. He was tying my balls up. Apprehension
flooded back into me. I moaned and struggled, but he ignored me. He wound the
cord around the base of my balls several times, and then tied it off. It didn’t
hurt, but was very uncomfortable. Yet there was something erotic about it too.
My balls felt hot and tight. They bulged out and looked like one big shiny ball.
The next thing I knew, he was licking and sucking my balls. “You’re going to
learn what it’s like to cum from bound balls,” he told me. Then he began to suck
me again. It took longer this time, but my orgasm was no less intense. Indeed it
was a new and highly charged sensation to cum with bound balls.
He kept me bound to the bed all afternoon. He told me he preferred bound
balls and that mine would stay that way. He teased, caressed, licked, sucked my
entire body at length. Then he sucked my cock a third time, and made me cum hard
again. I was weak by then, and he had no trouble changing my bondage position.
However I was never really free, and he was quite a bit stronger than I was.
He put me into a tight face down hogtie. Rather than the classic legs
bound together hogtie, he crossed my ankles and tied them, before pulling them
up to my bound wrists. This forced me to lie face down with my knees spread. I
couldn’t help myself, my cock started getting hard again.
I was a little surprised. Prior to this afternoon, my normal was to jack
off at home in bed, cum once and go to sleep. My norm with girls was to fuck
them, cum once, and go home. Even my early adventures with my buddies, was jack
off once and go to sleep or go home, depending on the situation. I had now cum
three times in as many hours, and was rapidly getting hard again. He hadn’t even
touched me, except for tying me in the hogtie. It dawned on me right then that
it was not just the sex, not the blowjob alone, but the entire situation that
was turning me on. I was turned on being tied up, turned on being under his
control. Evidently, he noticed or decided to check. He reached beneath me and
found my hardening cock. He then pulled it down and back between my legs. I know
I groaned at the discomfort as he bent my cock down and back. He left it there,
pressed against the mattress, pointing toward my knees.
“Oh no, boy,” he said. “It’s my turn to cum now, you can wait.”
I felt him at my bound balls again. Then I felt a tug, and he was at my
wrists. I realized he was using more rope to connect my balls to my wrists. When
he was done and I tried to struggle, the hogtie pulled sharply on my bound
balls.
“Now, boy,” he said, “I’m going to remove your gag and you’re going to
suck my cock.”
Suck it I did. He controlled me by grabbing the rope from my wrists to my
balls, and increasing the pressure. He showed me how to suck cock. Showed me how
he liked it. He had turned me sideways on the bed, with my chin on the edge of
the mattress. He stood beside the bed and force-fed me his cock. Made me do it,
made me learn. It was a little bit of a struggle and a strain. I couldn’t bob my
head real well. Nevertheless, I still learned how to suck, use my lips and
tongue as he preferred. He held my head a lot, and pumped his cock to me.
Again I couldn’t help myself. I liked being made to do it. I liked being
bound and forced. Maybe the psychological thing about being bound and having no
choice but to do things makes it OK to do them, is true. But I never like to
think that deep. I was shown something new, and made to do it, and it turned me
on. Whether I fully admitted it to myself at the time or not.
During the afternoon he had taken a Polaroid photo or two of me
spreadeagled on the bed. He also took one once I was hogtied, right before he
removed my gag. I was surprised that he didn’t cum faster. He had been obviously
turned on for several hours before he finally made me suck him. During the
lengthy time it took for him to get off, he reached over several times and took
the camera in one hand. Holding it at arms’ length, he took several close-ups of
me sucking his cock.
I admit I gagged a little when his load finally shot into my mouth. But it
was my first time. I did my best to keep sucking and licking, and swallow his
whole load. Just as he had done for me. He gave me little choice anyway. I know
I was nowhere as good as he was, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“First taste of cum, boy?” he demanded.
“Umm Humm,” I moaned around his still pumping shaft.
“Won’t be your last, I bet,” he said.
The period after was a little awkward. I didn’t know what to say. In a
way, I was mildly pissed off because he’d drugged and used me. On the other
hand, I had experienced something that had turned me on like never before. I
didn’t have the urge to jump on him and beat him up or anything. I was no wimp
and had had my share of fights. But I couldn’t have whipped him anyway, he was
older, but bigger and stronger. Besides, something inside me liked what had
happened, even though I was mildly confused and pissed off.
Before he released me from the hogtie, he made me look at the Polaroids.
In the close-ups, all you could see was his crotch, his balls, his cock in my
mouth. You could not tell that I was tied up at all. It was just me sucking
cock. He showed me one he liked in particular. My mouth stretched around his
swollen cock shaft with just the head not visible. My cheeks were hollowed as I
sucked. My eyes were wide with obvious lust.
“Sure looks like you’re enjoying yourself,” he said. He went on to inform
me that if I told anyone about what happened, or got him in any trouble, he
would see to it that copies of the photo went to my buddies at work, and even my
girlfriend. “You may get me in trouble,” he said, “but you’ll forever be known
as a cocksucker, forced or not.”
I didn’t doubt he would do it. I obviously could cause him trouble.
However, truth was, I had no intention of telling a soul. I would be too ashamed
and embarrassed. So he had me for sure.
After that little exchange, he had removed the rope connecting my wrists
and balls. He suddenly rolled me onto my side. The knee-spread hogtie caused my
one knee to go up in the air as he rolled me almost all the way over. He clamped
his big hand over my mouth and held it there. He grabbed my cock with his other
hand and began to stroke me.
“I never want my boys to go home with any cum left,” he told me.
I surprised myself again. What was it? The difference of his expert
stroking hand instead of his mouth, or because of the entire situation?
Regardless, I was soon shooting my load into the air. But by this time, the
volume of cum was sure much lower.
When he then fully released me, I found my clothes nearby. I dressed
silently, not even looking at him. But I could feel his eyes on me.
The last thing he said to me as I left his house was, “Give me a call if
you want to get tied up again.”
I had a troubled week. Not troubled in the sense that some might think. I
didn’t suffer from any self doubt. I didn’t become worried about my sexuality.
Was I straight, was I turning gay? None of that stuff. I guess even at that
young age, I had the “if it feels good, do it,” attitude, much as I still do to
this day.
I had a date with my girlfriend a couple of days later. Looked forward to
that, and fucked her brains out. I was totally focused on her, and did not
fantasize about my bondage ordeal while I was with her, or any confused stuff
like that. Guess even back then, I could compartmentalize my sexual desires and
experiences.
What was troubling, if that is even a correct description, was that I
spent every night at home, furiously masturbating to thoughts of being bound and
gagged. True, I dreamed and jacked off to thoughts of how good his mouth had
felt on my cock. I also dreamed of how it had been to suck his cock. The sex
acts were certainly an integral part of it all. But I found myself most excited,
and definitely dwelling on the fact of being bound and gagged. Especially when I
shot my load, my mind was focused on the bondage aspect. Troubling only in the
sense that it was a new and unanticipated addition to my sexuality. I didn’t
fully understand its hold on my psyche. But girlfriend or not, it didn’t take
long before I realized I was going back to him for more.
I was still apprehensive about that, yet it seemed to add to my
excitement. Part of me wanted to call him and go back again the very next
Sunday. But I also had an urge to wait. I had a date with my girlfriend on
Saturday night anyway, so I focused on that as best I could.
By the next week I was still masturbating furiously every night to bondage
fantasies. So obviously I gave the farmer a call and asked to meet again. He
told me to come out again Sunday afternoon. Said he would be glad to see me, but
he also said., “Be ready to go all the way this time.” Naturally, that left me
wondering. Indeed, it caused more apprehension. But it also seemed to just
increase my sexual tension.
The rest of the week seemed to creep. I went to his farm as early Sunday
afternoon as I could. This time, there was no work, no beers, and no need for
him to drug me. He ordered me to go upstairs to his bedroom and strip down. I
was nervous, but obviously complied. In no time, I was once again spreadeagled
face up on his bed with strong ropes. This time he did a different gag. He
shoved a rubber ball in my mouth and then used tape to seal it in place. It was
some sort of ultra sticky tape. He put one piece across the center of my mouth
to hold the ball. Then he crisscrossed two more strips in an X. Then he put
three or four more pieces straight across and overlapped. Not only was the ball
held deep, but my mouth was totally covered and sealed.
That done, he once again went to work on my balls with the thin cord. He
made it tighter this time. He also looped around them a couple more turns than
last time, and made it clear to me he was doing so.
“Every time you submit, boy, I’m going to use another loop or two.” I
moaned in reaction to his work, as well as the increased discomfort to my balls.
He immediately began to caress and explore my helpless body, just like our first
encounter. His hands, mouth and tongue were everywhere. Again, he finally
settled between my tightly spread legs. He licked and sucked my tormented balls.
I moaned and groaned at the intense sensations. But when his mouth finally
devoured my hard cock, I moaned like never before. It felt even better than last
time. Couldn’t be, how could I possibly have forgotten any of the intensity?
I could hear my own faint moans behind the thick gag, as his mouth quickly
took me toward my first cum. I tried so hard to resist, to make it last. I
wanted to savor every second, as well as please him. But I couldn’t help myself.
I was way too turned on by being helplessly bound and gagged again. His mouth
was just too good. I was moaning and straining. Forcing my hips up to meet his
bobbing head.
Suddenly he stopped and gave my bound balls a sharp twist. I groaned with
the ache, and my urge to cum vanished.
“Oh no, boy,” he said, “it’s way too soon to cum, you’re going to learn
control.”
He taught me all right. He kept at me non-stop with his mouth and hands.
He obviously had my physical responses figured out. Every time I would start to
reach that point of no return, he would either twist my balls or squeeze my
cockhead hard between his thumb and forefinger. I lost all track of time. It
seemed to go on and on. My balls ached for more reasons than one.
I was surprised when he suddenly got up from the lengthy torment. I moaned
to him to come back. Moaned to cum, lifted my hips, wiggled my rigid cock in
mid-air.
“What’s the matter, boy?” he asked. “Blue balls?”
He laughed as he untied one of my ankles. He brought my ankles together
and tied them. Then he released the rope holding my other ankle to the bed, and
used its length to tie both my ankles to the center of the foot board. I was in
an arms spread, legs together position then, centered on the bed. He also
produced another piece of rope and tied my legs together above my knees.
He laid down beside me, and squeezed a large amount of some sort of
lubricant onto my stiff cock. He began to stroke me again. Gripping my cock,
using more and more lubricant.
Suddenly he sat up and threw one leg over my hips. He straddled me and
guided my cock as he lowered himself down.
I know I moaned loudly in surprise, as well as with pleasure. I was
totally naive about anal sex. It was like pussy, yet it wasn’t. His ass was so
hot, and slick, and tight. My cock throbbed just from the snug grip. But when he
began to pump up and down, I couldn’t believe how intense it was. I already
needed to cum badly. This was too, too much. He was leaning forward, braced up
on his straight arms. He looked down as he hovered over me, hips pumping, and
said, “You like that, boy?” I just moaned in response, desperately trying to
enjoy it and yet not cum too quickly. Thankfully, he wasn’t pumping his ass real
fast. Just going up and down slowly and sensuously.
“Feels real good, doesn’t it, boy?” he said. “I bet your ass is going to
feel real good on my cock later.”
I definitely moaned then. Moaned and struggled. I know I was shaking my
head too. Real apprehension flooded back thru me. I had never dreamed of such a
thing. Never even had a finger in my anus. It would have to hurt. I continued to
moan at him and shake my head. His hips pumped faster, and I could not escape
the pleasure, even in the midst of my apprehension.
“Oh yes, boy,’ he said, “You’re going to take it and learn to like it,
after all, it’s only fair, look what I’m doing for you.”
There was no denying that. Its not really a fair comparison to decide
between what I was enjoying now, and his expert blowjobs. Like comparing apples
to oranges. The blowjobs were great, and so was this. Like everything else, I
couldn’t help myself. Soon I was doing more moaning and shooting my cum inside
him. He kept pumping until I was so drained I can’t describe it.
As during our first encounter, he never really let me totally free of my
bondage. Between his strength and my weakened state, he put me into a whole new
and unexpected bondage position. For obvious reasons, I was certain I was going
to get fucked next. But that didn’t happen. He tied me to a big wooden chair,
placed beside the bed. He used lots of rope and bound my arms over the back, my
legs to the chair front legs at ankles and knees. More rope held my waist and
chest to the chair back.
I was very apprehensive, and thus definitely in no hurry to be made to
take his cock in my ass. Yet I was surprised it didn’t happen right away.
His cock had been hard ever since I had stripped off my clothes. It had
been poking me in various places as he had bound me, worked on my cock, and so
forth. As he had ridden my cock, his had rubbed and bounced against my belly.
The thought even crossed my mind that he might cum like that. But of course he
didn’t. Even as he tied me in the chair, and now stood towering over me, his
stiff cock stuck straight out. It was as if it was pointing me out.
“You need to learn patience and control, boy,” he said, “so you can just
sit here a while, I want your cock ready again before I fuck you.”
I moaned at that and struggled in the chair. His cock jumped in response.
It dawned on me that he liked my apprehension.
He got his Polaroid and took a couple of photos. As he put the camera
aside, he said, “I’ll take a couple more when that cock gets hard again.”
He went over and stretched out on the bed. He began to stroke his cock
slowly, making me watch.
“What do you think, boy, how’s this cock going to feel up your virgin
ass?”
My response was continued moaning and struggling. His response was to
stroke his cock faster. His eyes riveted on my bondage predicament.
I might have been young and inexperienced, but I wasn’t stupid. It was
obvious to me that my naked, bound and gagged, struggling, moaning self, was
inflaming his passion even more. I could not help myself. What was I to do?
Bound and gagged, forced to watch a man stroke his big cock. Knowing I was going
to be made to take it up my ass. I moaned and struggled. He enjoyed.
I lost track of time again, but knew I had been in the chair quite a
while. My buttocks were beginning to really feel the hard wood seat. Plus,
another urge had overtaken me. I had to pee, and bad. I moaned at him, shaking
my head, and also nodding and looking downward toward my crotch. I kept
repeating it, hoping he’d get the message.
He was still laid back on the bed, cock in his hand, leisurely stroking.
“Balls hurting, boy?” he asked. They were, but that was not my immediate need. I
shook my head “No,” and repeated my looks down. “I bet you need to pee,” he said
finally. I groaned and shook my head “Yes.”
He didn’t get up in any big hurry. But he finally got up. I was sure he
was going to come release me, at least partially, so I could go pee. Instead he
left the room. I moaned after him. He came right back carrying a wide-mouthed
bottle. Oh no, I thought. I had always been a little shy about peeing in front
of anyone.
Funny how that can work sometimes. Even my young buddies where we jacked
off together, I was shy about peeing in their presence. Besides, shy or not,
this was sure different than even a public restroom.
He held the bottle between my legs and guided my cock into it. After
awhile he said, “I’m not going to hold this all day, boy, you better pee soon.”
I couldn’t, I just couldn’t, I needed to bad. Oh please, I thought. Suddenly, he
reached down with his free hand and seized my tender bound balls. I groaned
loudly as he began to squeeze and knead them. I forgot all about peeing. This
was the first thing he had done to me that genuinely hurt. It wasn’t intolerable
or excruciatingly painful. But it did go beyond uncomfortable, that was for
sure.
“You will pee, boy, and soon, or I’ll work these nuts over real good,” he
said.
I don’t know if it was part of his planned technique, or just happened.
But I was so relieved when he finally let my balls go that I let my pee go. It
was great to empty my bladder, but humiliation washed over me, as I filled the
jar with him holding it and watching. “You must really want me to leave those
nuts alone,” he said. “Fat chance of that.”
I moaned as he left with the bottle. I realized just how much under his
control I really was.
[A little later], I was really straining against the ropes that held me.
Writhing was more the word. Not that I could really move too much. The heavy
tape holding the ball in my mouth seemed as firm as ever. I moaned behind it,
and pulled at the ropes holding me spreadeagled. Back on his big fourposter bed
again. But this time I was face down. This time he had doubled the rope on my
wrists and ankles. The spreadeagle seemed even tighter than when I had been face
up.
My cock was rapidly getting hard again, and not from his expert touch. In
fact, he had touched it only long enough to pull it and my bound balls from
beneath me. Again, my cock was bent down and backward. My balls bulged up
between my spread legs and my cock pointed toward my knees. It pressed into the
mattress more and more as my excitement increased.
What really made me moan and struggle was his greased finger sawing in and
out of my anus. It drove me crazy. I liked it and hated it at the same time. I
felt humiliated and weird to have another guy with his finger in my butt. Yet it
didn’t hurt, and the way he was fingering me caused me sensations I had never
heard or dreamed of. Now, of course, I know what a prostate massage is. But back
then, I knew nothing at all. He slid his finger in and out, and every so often
on the instroke he used his fingertip on my prostate. It drove me crazy. My cock
jumped and got harder by the second. I felt like I wanted to cum as he pressed
me inside, even though my cock was untouched. I began to wonder how his cock
would feel. Even began to crave it. Yet the apprehension remained. A greased
finger was one thing, but his cock made me worry.
He had been lying beside me, leisurely fingering me. He seemed in no big
hurry. But his rigid cock pressing into the outside of my thigh sure sent me a
signal. I was sorry when he finally withdrew his finger. I was to the stage that
I was beginning to enjoy it. Plus, I knew what was coming next. I moaned and
wiggled my bottom as he climbed between my legs. I steeled myself for what was
to come. Though my apprehension peaked again. But he slid down and positioned
himself between my legs, much as he’d done when I was spread face-up. He lowered
his head and began to lick and suck on the exposed underside of my bent back
cock. His lips nibbled and sucked on my cockhead and shaft, his tongue caressed
me.
My balls had been tightly bound and otherwise strained for so long, it was
a strange sensation when his mouth moved to them. How something could feel
soothing, stimulating and torturous as the same time was totally new to me. But
that was how it was.
My bound balls again were forced into one tight ball by all the rounds of
tight cord. Suddenly, I realized he had engulfed both of them in his mouth. I
could feel his lips encircling my sack, right around the final coil of cord. He
sucked my bag, and ran his tongue all over it.
When he finally popped them free of his mouth I groaned in discomfort. I
could feel how wet they were with his saliva.
When he seized my buttocks, one in each hand, and pried them roughly
apart, I steeled myself again. Here it comes, I thought. I wanted it, yet I
didn’t. I feared it, yet somehow craved it too. But once again I was suddenly
surprised. He buried his face between my cheeks. His tongue sought out my anus.
He began to lick and suck. I moaned and groaned, and wiggled my bottom. But the
more I wiggled, the more he buried his face.
I had never heard of such a thing. It was so nasty, and so humiliating. I
couldn’t believe he was doing it. But at the same time, my bent back cock
twitched. I wanted to hump the mattress, as his tongue worked its way inside me.
“You ready for this cock, boy?” he said in a demanding voice.
I couldn’t help myself. He had gotten up and was standing beside the bed,
as near to my head as he could get. His cock was absolutely rigid. It angled
upward from his crotch, and seemed bigger than ever as he stroked it with
lubricant. He had made me watch as he squeezed a liberal amount onto it, and was
now stroking it.
My resolve had slipped. Now, staring at it in this fully excited state,
and fully realizing I was about to get it, I had strong second thoughts. I
moaned and struggled and shook my head at him.
“Too late, boy,” he said. “You’re going to get it whether you like it or
not. I think what you need is an attitude adjustment.” He moved down alongside
the bed. Without warning, he suddenly slapped my ass with a hard, stinging blow.
I jerked and made a strange gagged sound like a moan and a squeal mixed
together. I thought he was just kidding around, but he began to work my buttocks
over with a relentless series of stinging slaps.
“I fingered you real nice, and then ate you real nice, too,” he said.
“Let’s see if a good red-ass spanking makes you more receptive, besides, I sort
of like to ride a pair of hot red buttocks.”
It’s hard to really describe my own tortured sounds as his open palm
proved to me how in control he truly was. Before long my ass felt as if it was
on fire. No doubt it was red.
He finally paused and asked, “Ready for my cock now, boy?”
“Umm Humm,” I moaned at him.
“Good,” he said, as he gave me one last hard smack. “Cause if you’re not,
I can start this right up again.”
He got on the bed between my legs, but did not take me right off. He put
his cock lengthwise in my butt crack, and his hips on top of mine. He leaned
forward on his braced arms, and began to saw his stiff cock back and forth,
teasing me.
“Um,” he said, “I just know that ass is going to be tight, I probably
won’t be able to last long, but don’t worry boy, when I fuck you again later, it
will take a lot longer.”
Even as I moaned at his words, I also moaned because his cockhead was now
pushing at my anus. My moans turned to deeper groans of discomfort. I strained
at the ropes, and tried vainly to pull my hips away. At least he didn’t just jam
it in or rape me in the true sense of the word. But he did ignore my futile
struggles and protests. He relentlessly, but slowly, pushed his greasy cock
inside my tortured ass.
There definitely was some pain, and certainly a lot of discomfort. But in
retrospect, his fingering and tongue work, combined with all the lubricant and
his slow approach, must have made it easier for me. Nevertheless, I wanted it
out for some time, and I moaned and struggled accordingly.
He didn’t fuck me at first, but paused for awhile with his cock fully
buried inside me. I suppose this helped me to physically accommodate its size.
But eventually, his lust took over.
What he had said proved true. He fucked me slowly at first. Pulling his
cock almost out except for the head. Only to push back in fully. But soon he was
pumping me rapidly. He seemed oblivious to my moans. Moans that were half
discomfort and half pleasure. Difficult to explain to those who have not been in
my place.
My cock did remain hard, even in its tormented bent back position. But I
was way too occupied to concentrate on getting off myself. My mind was flooded
with nothing but thoughts of “Big cock” and “being fucked” and sometimes “please
stop” and yet also “don’t stop.”
When he did cum, it was a new experience of the first order. He was
fucking me very fast. His cock seemed even harder than before. Then he moaned
loudly, and I felt his hot cum spurting inside me. Spurting and spurting, to be
exact.
He didn’t lie about fucking me again later either. Once he had pulled
free, he replaced his cock with his finger. He ma saged my prostate again, as he
curled his other hand around my bent back cock. In no time, my cum was shooting.
It was really strange to cum like that, with aching bound balls, and an
aching bent back cock. But his finger massage could not be denied.
He held me in tight bondage the rest of the afternoon. He fucked me again.
Still tightly bound and gagged, but in a much different position. He showed me
what it was like to have a cock sliding in my ass, as his hand stroked my cock.
I’ve never cum so hard.
I met him two more times that summer for more Sunday Bondage. After I went
away to college, I wrote him a letter to see if we could meet when I was home.
He never answered. Why I don’t know. Maybe he had used me enough.
Retrospect? Yes, in a way it was forced on me, but certainly not totally.
Part force, part seduction, I suppose. I remember every thing about my sessions
with him pretty vividly, even after all these years. I have tried on occasion to
relive it. I have met a few bondage tops, including thru Bound & Gagged. I have
never, ever, been able to totally recapture the whole situation. Why? Who knows?
Maybe it had too much impact on me at the time? Truth seems to really be that
I’ve never found just the right bondage top. I’ve had a couple of decent
experiences since. But most guys I’ve met, or just contacted, were more into
S&M, and their bondage was to hold a guy for that. I’m more into bondage for
bondage’s sake, with lots of hot sex as an integral part of the scene. Also some
amount of sensible punishment and/or discipline. I guess you’d say that “my
thing” is more of a “bondage/rope” scene than a “leather master/slave scene.”
Well, this turned into more of an epic than a story, or at least not a
short story. True, I have embellished things with an adjective or two, as well
as some small amount of retrospective license. But I guarantee this is 99% true.
Please forgive my handwriting and long rambling sentences. Hope it was
readable and enjoyable anyway. I have a computer and printer I use now and then,
but honestly hate to type.
It’s a shame BOUND & GAGGED is so totally oriented to mostly younger guys.
Shame you don’t do a magazine or even a feature devoted to older guys in
bondage. Boy, would I volunteer. Nothing makes my cock harder than getting tied
up for real, by a guy who loves to do it.