Truth, Dare, or Strip [M/M] {Complete}

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.

The next installment should be

Poll ended at 4 years ago

A continuation of truth or dare
1
11%
A new game
3
33%
An introduction of a new character
2
22%
A full sex scene
3
33%
 
Total votes: 9

Gaggedwriter
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Truth, Dare, or Strip [M/M] {Complete}

Post by Gaggedwriter »

Just a little story I put together in a day a few months back. It isn't finished but for now it ends in a good place. Maybe I'll come back to it. This is very much a slowburn, but the later chapters pick up the pace. Themes include bondage, smell torture, tickling, athletes, gear, humiliation, shaving, and breath control if I ever finish writing it. Enjoy.

(If you're the kind of person who likes to have references for characters, the narrator is similar to Max from the old TieGuyUK site and Justin is similar to TiedFeetGuy's Pasha)

The first four chapters consist largely of buildup to the game itself. They do include sexy bits, but there is no actual action until the fifth chapter "The Game Begins." For now, the story ends with "Checkmate" although I may write more later.



-Prelude-

I woke up to my alarm at 8 AM on my 18th birthday and already I had missed two calls. It was normal to miss calls, scammers or college recruitment programs trying to get me before I fully committed to my dream school. Figuring the only other ones who would call me before 8 AM on my birthday would be relatives I see twice a year, I ignored the flashing blue light.

Pushing off my sheets, I rolled out of bed and onto the cold hardwood floors of the basement. It was the middle of summer, and when I slept I let everything hang out. From size 12 feet up through my unshaven legs (which had earned me endless taunting on the high school wrestling team), to my similarly wild bush. The happy trail bisecting my abs pointing towards my light but visible pecs and my angular face, finally ending at my mop of brown fringe; even this early glistening from sweat in the sunrise.

Not thinking the two missed calls could be anything to bother with, I stretched and walked out into the rest of the house. My family, away on vacation, had left the entire place to me for a week. They insisted I should have gone with them, but there was nothing I wanted more for my 18th birthday than to man the house alone. Clean the kitchen, prep my own meals; and most importantly, wander around in the nude. Of course, they only heard about the first two.

Stepping into the cool damp shower was already a relief from the summer heat. The lukewarm water splashing off my back woke up everything that was still asleep; everything. By the time I was done with my hair, I needed to turn it down to near-freezing. I may have been home alone, but I wasn’t gonna blow that early in the morning.
Washing off and drying didn’t take too long, but I was sure to avoid my legs and feet. My school had a tradition for hazing the new athletes with the least-smelly socks; and I didn’t want to be caught off guard if that carried over into college. My wrestling scholarship was one thing, but the respect of the team was another.

It was about a half an hour between getting up and walking back into my room, no more clothed but certainly smelling better. It was hard to keep my hair out of my eyes, but I could clearly see that my phone had been going crazy since I woke up. Going over and sitting down in my desk chair, what I found didn’t surprise me. At least, not at first.

Texts and snapchats from the entire team and about half the school; most of them joking about how I should buy them juul pods now that I was an adult, some of them not joking. I sat down, the cool leather cradling my firm, bare ass, and replied to a few.

Then there was the text at the bottom of the stack. The most recent since I had gone to bed the night before.

Justin-ass – 7:53
Happy birthday

The contact picture confirmed it wasn’t a joke. There he was, in all his quarterback glory in the home endzone, with me on his shoulders.

Justin Kurtz, my ex-boyfriend.
Last edited by Gaggedwriter 4 years ago, edited 4 times in total.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
Gaggedwriter
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Back-


I stared at the text for a few seconds before opening it. The chat was empty, as it had been for a year and a half since we broke up. We were younger then, and still figuring things out. He had cheated on me with a girl we both knew. Until that point we hadn’t done anything too fun, we were still underage and didn’t want to mess with that, but we certainly talked about it. Neither of us were very happy when things ended.

My iPhone started buzzing in my hand after a minute staring at the screen, trying not to imagine falling asleep on his rock-hard pecs and the feeling of his tongue pushing its way into my mouth. It stopped a moment later; then again, and again. More birthday wishes, replies from some of the people I’d thanked already. Finally, I tore my eyes away from the contact picture, and tossed my phone back on my desk. Thinking about him had me harder than the wood it clattered onto.

Not wanting to think about him, I decided to get dressed. Long Nike socks (the same I had been wearing since my family left two days earlier) and navy blue boxer briefs before I turned to admire my body in the mirror. Even soft, there was a noticeable impression in the briefs, and the black mid-calf socks matched nicely. Workout shorts and an old high school t-shirt over that and I felt like a new man.

I was a new man, I guess. Or at least, I would be sometime around noon that day. Without a second thought, I grabbed my phone and ran upstairs for breakfast.

Before I could sit down with my cereal there were 20 new messages. 3 were from him.

R u up?
Who am I kidding, y would u be up at 8 on your bday.
Sry

I felt the blood run to my face and quickly backed out into my contacts. More birthday wishes and replies in groupchats. More family members I wouldn’t see again until Christmas. And then another text from him.

U kno read receipts are on, right?

Blood flushed to my face again and, in the heat of being discovered, I felt a stiffening in my legs. Hearing from him, thinking about him made me want to run a marathon.

Oh yeah. Sorry.

As the message sent I threw my phone back onto the kitchen counter. In the silence, I slowly got up and walked to the fruit bowl. A banana, sure. “Just a banana” I called out to the empty house around me. My phone was on mute now, and since it landed face-down I was allowed to enjoy my cereal in peace. I was just beginning my banana when an image hit the back of my head, like an old-timey projector. Two guys on the turf at midnight, watching the stars. The August sky dotted with constellations.

“Orion’s belt” Justin points aimlessly into the sky.
“You would look good in belts.” It’s late, and I’m already love-dumb, so this feels appropriate.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. A good leather belt”
“You would look good in leather belts too.”
“Really?” I had never considered myself very fashionable. All my belts were simple, bland.
“Yeah, around your arms so I can shut you up.”
“With what?”
He moves the arm my head is resting on so that my face falls right across his stomach, staring at his crotch.


I don’t even notice I’m deep-throating my banana until it starts to suffocate me. Choking, I check my phone to try and ignore my own stupid embarrassment. By now I really should have just muted everyone. There are only so many times the same people can ask what you want, even when you’ve told them nothing. But there’s a text from him.

Nbd. Any plans for the big day?
Go for a run, hit the gym. Just another day.
Shut up, ur 18
So are you.
Ur impossible


Did I ruin it? Is this it? I don’t even know what he’s doing but somehow I feel like I should apologize.

Why do you care?

We had talked since the break-up. Similar groups, people on both of our teams, and such. We weren’t on bad terms by any means, but this still came out of left field.

Do you remember Red Lobster?
You mentioned tying me up and the waitress almost spilled your pepsi.
I can’t believe I used to drink pepsi.
What are you talking about?
Do you want to come over?


There it was. I woke up knowing I wanted it but to have him say it, that he wanted it, or even just to hint at it, had me excited in so many ways.

For what? Red Lobster?
Maybe.
My family isn’t home.
So they won’t miss you if you’re gone for a few hours.
Fair enough.
When do you want me to come over?
Noon maybe? Have you had breakfast?
Yeah, just finished.
Okay, maybe a little later.


I didn’t understand what he was getting at.

Did you want to get breakfast?
No, just don’t have anything else today. I’ll take care of dinner.
You’re being so weird.
I thought you like when I’m weird.
So when do you want me?
Now, but 5 is better.
Okay, see you at 5. Should I bring anything?
No. See you at 5.


I could tell he had dropped the conversation, and as soon as I set my phone back down, I nearly fainted. That guy knew how to play me. Don’t eat anything? What was that supposed to mean? I remember looking around the kitchen, at the bowl of m&ms on the counter and the fruit by the stove. Cereal and banana wasn’t an especially big breakfast, honestly it was just to get something in me before my morning run, so to not eat anything for nearly 10 hours would be difficult.

But there was nothing else I could do, so I put on my sneakers, and I ran.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Forth-

The following is a note from my phone.

9:34: It has been an hour since Justin asked me to meet him at 5. At his house, I guess. Motherfucker always was vague. Still doesn’t know how to plan a date. Just went for a run, 6 miles, nice and easy. Not even a run really. But it’s 96 degrees out, and I’m fucking sweating.
10:43: I am now at the gym. Needed to cool off and didn’t feel like another shower, so I went for a swim. Still don’t know what Justin is planning. He says to go to his house. Surprise party? Or something kinkier?
11:36: I should delete that. Starting to get hungry.


Around 12:30 I was already home from the gym and couldn’t keep myself distracted any longer. I started thinking about what his cock is like, about opening the door and feeling him clasp his hand over my mouth and force me to the ground, straddling me and muffling my calls for help. I saw myself walking in and him holding me at gunpoint, ordering me to strip; him cutting my briefs off me as I’m kneeling with my hands handcuffed behind me.

I walk down the hall from the living room where I had been to the basement. The refreshingly cooler air greets me and I’m shirtless by the time I enter my room. My nylon shorts come off, then my briefs, and my cock is in my hand. I close my eyes, and he smiles and hands me a glass. A toast to my adulthood. I wake up naked, face-down in his bed, and feel the tight pressure of his dick inside me. I enjoy it, and try to pleasure myself but my arms are tied to the bedposts. When I call out, the cloth in my mouth blocks everything. But it isn’t cloth, its leather, in the shape of another cock. Suddenly I’m kneeling, with his hands on either side of my head, and I feel him going in and out, and in and out, and in and-

that’s all I can take before I shoot my load nearly to the ceiling. A jet of sticky, milky fluid that splatters against my chest in five, six, seven bursts. My breathing slowly returns to normal, and blood rushes out of my dick, into my face. Embarrassed and ashamed, I clean myself up and toss the blanket in the wash. After the orgasm all I can think is how much it would suck to show up with condoms to a surprise party.

1:30: I missed the fourth hour. Not a lot happened. Playing Apex now
2:48: Still playing Apex
3:54: Okay I stopped playing Apex. That really helped. I haven’t thought about later in a little while. Lost track of time and almost thought I forgot it. Maybe I should get ready? Should I bring him something? Is this a date?
4:34: He said not to bring anything, and that he’s handling dinner. I am starving. I hope this surprise party has pizza. So much pizza. Buffalo chicken pizza. If they don’t make buffalo chicken pizza I will make it myself. I wonder who will be there.


At 5 I start to get ready to leave, because showing up on time is awkward. He texts five minutes after I was supposed to be there.

Are you coming?
Yes. Just a little late. What should I wear?
I don’t know? Whatever you’re wearing.


It only takes about 10 minutes to drive to his house, so it wouldn’t suck if I left something behind. I can always come back and get something if I need it that bad.

In the end I decide to wear a little more than what I started with. Same black socks that were fine so long as I was wearing shoes. Different underwear, there’s only so much pre-cum before people get suspicious if they have to see you without pants. I decided on tight black briefs that beautifully framed my thighs. Over that, black compression shorts that came down to my mid-thighs and a compression shirt that hugged my waist and covered my abs. Same loose workout shorts, but this time one of my old practice jerseys from lacrosse.

Grabbing my keys, I paused as I was about to put on my shoes. A pair of red and white converse that I had just bought in April; or, as I turned my head back towards my closet, my two-year old sneakers that I had worn for a run just this morning.

Despite the fact they reeked in their own rite, they still managed to contain the stench of my socks and jock feet as I got into my jeep and threw it into reverse. The open sides let the wind rustle up my hair into a frenzy while tossing around the canvas roof and generally making me feel like a model for a cologne ad. 10 minutes later, I arrived at the driveway to his property. His family owned a four acre lot about a quarter mile off the street, and the driveway led through nothing but woods all the way there. Suburban New Hampshire is a beautiful place in general, but something about the wind in my hair as I crossed the gravel path excited me more as the large, two-story house pulled into view.

Like most Victorian houses, it had a veranda that stretched around the front and side closest to the garage. It also had one of those strange tower-things that aren’t real separate towers but look cool from the street. From experience I knew it wasn’t nearly as cool on the first two floors. But I had yet to explore the attic, where the tower came to a pointed top and three bay windows overlooked the woods I had just come from.

As I put my jeep into park, I glanced up and could see Justin’s figure in the window of the suite over the garage.
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Gaggedwriter
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Desire-

There wasn’t really any sense in locking the jeep, but I did reflexively as I walked up the pathway towards the Kurtz house. The backyard was fenced off but even from here I could smell the chlorine of the pool water and what smelled like a freshly-mown lawn. Even then I knew I was distracting myself by taking in all this detail. Before I got to the front door, it opened from the inside.

And there he was.

At 6’5, Justin had a solid three inches on me. From his much longer career in football than my 3-year dive into wrestling, he also had a lot more muscle. Whereas I toned myself mainly for contortion and stamina, he was built for war. The breeze caught the screen door and slowly lifted it a little open, and Justin did nothing to stop it. I caught it, and for the first time in nearly two years, we were alone together.

“You’re late.”

I smirked and shrugged before cocking my head and running a hand through my hair. While my head was a little lower, I caught his gaze. His black hair was shorter than normal. It almost looked like a gentleman’s cut, but maybe that was the lighting. He was wearing a football jersey over what looked to be a thin sweater almost. Having had the door open for a few seconds now, I could the AC was blasting on the inside. Glancing down, he was wearing a bathing suit.

“Well I didn’t know there was going to be swimming” I said.

“That wasn’t what I had in mind. I didn’t know if you were coming, so I started to skim it just in case you didn’t show and I suddenly had some free time on my hands to go swimming.”

“I see.”

“Don’t just stand there, it’s like a hundred degrees out” Justin extends his hand out to further open the screen door and I pass by next to him. As he closes the door behind me I imagine him locking it. I imagine all of the things that could happen nex-

“Hungry?”

Very suddenly I’m not horny anymore, “yeah, you’ve been starving me all day. Is there gonna be pizza at this party or what?”

He was on his way down the hallway towards the kitchen and looks over his shoulder in confusion, “what party?”

“You texted out of the blue and told me to come to your house randomly; on my birthday.”

He laughs and keeps going into the kitchen. Paying closer attention I can see he’s also wearing rather long socks for the weather, and it looks like he has something on under his bathing suit…

“So what are we doing?”

Without turning around he calls out, “just follow me.”

Like a love-struck idiot, I do so.

Having been to his house a number of times before, I knew the layout of the first floor like the back of my hand. I knew he was leading me into the kitchen, and that when he turned left he was going towards the dining room, then the study that took up the first floor space of the tower. The study was usually off-limits due to his father working, but as I suspected, we were the only ones there. When I got there, he was already relaxing on the leather sofa facing a large TV on the other side of the room; his white-socked feet crossed on the low table.

“Come on, sit down.”

“You know I think you’re hot when you do stuff like this, but I still want an explanation.”

I sit next to him in the corner of the couch and cross my legs, leaning on the armrest and giving him my best “try me” look.

Justin deeply inhales and takes his feet off the table.

“I just want to catch up.”

“Just catch up? It’s been over a year and a half since we broke up and now, right before we both leave for college, you want to catch up?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause as neither of us know how to go forward. I break it.

“I know what you want.”

“You’re here, so I guess you want it too.”

That’s fair enough. This time he breaks the silence.

“But I don’t want it to be just that, just tonight.”

“Well then what do you want, Justin? For me to tell you I love you then bend over so you can have your way with me?

“Let’s start with coffee.”

It’s a simple sentence, but he knows exactly what he’s saying. Our first date was to a small coffee shop just outside of town. Neither of us could drive so we rode our bikes. He smelled so good all sweaty after the long ride.
And so we went into the kitchen, and he brewed me a cup of coffee, and set it on the counter next to his own, and we talked. We talked about classes, about college. About friends and teammates. About the people he had dated and jobs I had worked. Neither of us touch the coffee, but the conversation keeps my mind off my stomach. Until about an hour and a half later, when I hear his stomach growl.

“Justin?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you eaten anything today?”

“Nope.”

Before I can protest he’s halfway out of the kitchen on his way up the stairs, “come on, let’s go for a run.”

“A run? On an empty stomach? You’re insane, Kurtz.”

“Insanely horny for your hot-ass body. Just a mile or two around the woods, alright? Then we can play cards or something when we get back.”

The first part catches me so completely off guard that I when I come back to reality we’re already outside. His bathing suit has been replaced with basketball shorts, and he has on a pair of beat-up sneakers. We don’t say a word on the sun, and it doesn’t take us too long, but I can feel he’s pushing himself. We’re both hungry, and between that and the humidity we’re building up quite a sweat. He knows exactly what he’s doing. But I go along, and follow a few paces behind him as he leads me through the woods around his house.

The whole time we were running I couldn’t take my eyes off his ass and his legs. His hairy, jock legs and that round ass with two straps crossing the cheeks. He’s wearing a jockstrap, and I’m excited to find out why.

We get back to the house just as the sun begins to turn the sky orange. I take a seat in one of the armchairs by the pool and when he comes back out with a glass of water for me I down it in seconds. The second glass of water he empties over my head.

“What was that for, asshole?”

“I wanted to see if I could make you wetter.”

“Wha-“

“Well, I can, but we’re not there yet.”

I can feel my dick hardening in my shorts and immediately divert the conversation.

“What did you have in mind for a card game? Or do you want to throw me in the pool before we play?”

Justin smiles and pulls up a chair across from the glass table the chairs belong to.

“I don’t know. Not a lot of games for two players. Could do 5-card?”

“It’s better with a dealer”

“Gin?”

“You know I hate gin, Justin.”

“Yeah but unless you have a better idea, that’s all I got.”

By this point, I’m exhausted, and so it takes about a minute or a half for me to formulate a response.
“How about war?”

“War? Like, w a r, war?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little, I don’t know, innocent?”

“Okay, how about this,” I roll over to face him directly, “War; truth, dare, or strip.”

Justin smiles and I watch him adjust his posture as his own dick hardens in its strap. There’s no doubt it’s uncomfortable, unless he’s wearing a cup. While he thinks about my suggestion I sneak a glance under the table and see that there is certainly a bulge, but I can’t fully tell if it’s him or a cup. He clears his throat and I nearly bang my head on the table.

“Okay, so what you’re saying is we play war, and whoever loses the hand has to take a truth, a dare, or forfeit a piece of clothing.”

“Yeah, something along those lines.”

“Okay then, I think I have some cards upstairs.”

We go back inside and while he turned the AC off before we left, it’s still at least 20 degrees cooler inside. I follow Justin up the stairs to the second floor, then across to the garage suite. This part of his house I had never been in. We entered into a large living space with a couch, table, and entertainment center, and a number of other chairs scattered across the room. There are a few book shelves and units with video games and trophies. To the far side of the room are two doors. The entire ceiling has exposed trusses and beams, making it look like the rafters in an old barn. As I take in the space, Justin pushes the coffee table out into the middle of the carpeted room.

We each sit on opposite sides of the table, and he begins to deal cards.

“Should we set limits?” I ask after 10 cards or so.

“If there’s anything I feel uncomfortable with, I’ll tell you; and the same goes for you.”

“But what if you ask me to suck your dick right out of the gate?”

“You think I’d spoil the fun like that?”

Justin continues to deal, and with each card I think of more and more things to ask him. The more things I think of to ask, the more a small part of me begins to feel helpless in this massive house dominated by my old flame.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-The Game Begins-

The cards have all been dealt, and the game begins.
1…
2…
3…
“Flip!”

We both flip our cards. Mine, the queen of hearts; him, the ace of spades. We always play aces high.

“Okay then,” he looks up and smiles with his endlessly sexy face, “truth, dare, or strip?”

I maintain eye contact as one thumb goes under the waist of my shirt, then the other, and I pull it off to reveal the compression shirt underneath.

“Damn” is Justin’s only reply.
The next round, he wins again.
“Truth, dare, or strip; sexy?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to do 10 pushups over me.”

I watch as he lies down in the open space next to the table with his hands crossed under his head. Given the open-ended request, I happily do so. Positioning myself with my crotch directly over his sexy smirk, I begin to lower myself. “1… 2… 3…” and on and on, each time my crotch colliding with his face; meanwhile, given his height, all I get is a closer look at his covered abs.

Once we’re back and seated, he silently takes up his cards again, but the arousal rippling off of him is electric.
He meets my eyes and in perfect sync, another round.
I win.
He picks truth.

“What didn’t you tell me about at Red Lobster?”
“I like shaved guys. Like, no body hair, just skin and sweat and it’s smooth under your hands when you wrap them around a guy.”

It’s clear he’s enjoying himself.

Another round, he wins. I take off my left shoe and discreetly waft some of the scent as I toss it next to him. After two runs in one day, this is the worst my socks, shoes, and feet have ever smelled.

Next round, he loses. This time he also takes off his left shoe.

He loses again and now I have both of his shoes. While I keep them far enough away to not spoil the fun later, I can tell he’s been working on them all day. The soles are moist from hours of sweat and his socks are nearly yellowed with moisture.

The next round, he loses again. He contemplates.
“Dare.”
“I dare you to suck on my nipples for as many seconds as your next card.”

He cocks his head slightly and glances at his next card. A smirk crosses his face as he puts it back.
“Total of that many seconds, or that many seconds per nipple?”
“Per nipple.”
We play the next round. I throw down a three, he has a ten.

Before he asks what I choose, he’s on top of me. He finds my nipples with his hands then covers one with his lips and gently licks the top of it through the compression shirt. With his five remaining seconds he seals his lips against me and sucks, hard. I shudder as he releases, then repeats with the other nipple. Before he returns to his spot opposite me he whispers in my ear,
“truth, dare, or strip,” and he pops the p slightly, causing my hair to stand on end.

I pull off the compression shirt, exposing two developing purple spots around my nipples.
Another round, and he loses. “Truth.”
“What, are you scared?” I taunt. He just leans back against the couch and gazes at me.
“Nope.”

He leans back forwards and picks up his cards again. I don’t even realize my mistake until a few seconds later.
Which makes it all the better when I lose the next round. I look down meekly. “Dare.”

“I dare you to pull my socks off with your mouth.”

I look up and he answers my question without me having to ask. “It’s only fair.”

He backs up into a leather armchair, a lazy boy, and lifts himself into it. As I crawl on hands and knees towards him, he pops the leg-rest up. In an instant, his feet are inches from my face, and I can smell his entire football career.

With his right foot, I crawl over his foot, to where the sock ends around his calf, and bite down gently like a vampire around the neck of his unsuspecting victim. His leg hairs tickle my chin but all I catch in my mouth is the fabric of his sock. Up here it isn’t nearly as bad as what’s been stuck in his shoe for who knows how long, and he knows it. I pull, maintaining my bite, until the sock comes loose and his size 13 foot is there in front of me. Somehow, the smell is slightly more manageable, although the gleaming, sweaty skin poses its own sensory pleasures and pains.

With his left foot, I give him everything he wanted. I start up by the calf, but lazily fall back until I reach his toes. Falling on my knees, I open my mouth against his big toe and begin to suck. All the sweat trapped in the sock begins to flood into my mouth in a dank, salty, jock-sex cocktail that floods my senses. I move down to the other toes, dragging the sock as I go, and bunch it up in my mouth as I continue to methodically worship the jock’s toes.
“uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhnnnnnngggggg” he moans with the back of his throat, throwing his head back. He reaches for his crotch and all I can see his the white cloth of his sock in my vision. He moans again and continues until his voice dies in the back of his throat and his sock comes off. I drop them next to his shoes and pick up my cards.

“Dude…” he moans from the chair, still not moving. It takes a few moments for him to reset the chair and stumble back to his cards.

I lose the next round as well, and remove my second shoe; tossing it in the pile of wrestling laundry next to him. Looking at his posture, Justin seems to regain his composure, but the sweat stains under his armpits have grown substantially.

The next round, I lose again. “Truth.” I call out, for the first time in the game.
Justin looks at me long and hard, “every time we deal a round you have to tell me one of your kinks.”

“What, you don’t think you know everything about me after Red Lobster?”

“Please, all we talked about at Red Lobster was super-vanilla bondage.”

I can’t argue with him, and pick back up my cards.

“Sports gear,” and we play another round. Justin loses and, with no shoes or socks to his name, pulls off his jersey. Underneath, I see his perfectly built abs, pecs, and biceps. Two small forests of hair puff out from his armpits and a long, wandering line extends from the top of his abs down to where the drawstring of his shorts is tied.

“Sports gear, go figure,” he taunts, throwing his shirt into my stash of his clothes, "again."
“feet, sneakers, and your dirty, dirty socks Mr. Kurtz.” This throws Justin off and I throw down my ace just before he throws down his card. Another ace.

“What happens now?” he asks, still recovering from my confession about how much I enjoyed stripping him of his rank footwear.

“I think it should be all three for whoever loses, and one on top.”

He agrees, and we each throw three cards face down. As we throw down our final cards I look up at him and say “gas masks.” I know it doesn’t influence in any way his next card, but I get off on the feeling of throwing him off his game. And this time, it works.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-The Game Continues-

“So that’s one truth, one dare, one article of clothing, and one more for Justin Kurtz.”
Justin hunches forwards, looking at his rapidly depleting stash of cards, before looking back up at me. With only his pants and whatever else may be beneath, I don’t expect him to choose to strip an extra item. “Truth.”

“Okay, well before we start, I think you’d look a lot better without those shorts.” Following my comment, Justin stands up, crosses to the open space by the windows where I previously pushed my junk into his face on my own dare, and bends nearly all the way over, showing off his own pair of compression shorts as he pulls down the red and black workout shorts. He lifts them up and swings them over his head as he stands back up and flings them into my face.

“Okay, what do you want to know.” He chooses to sit back in the lazy boy where I sucked his socks to near orgasm earlier.

“If you knew I would consent, what would you have done as soon as I got here earlier?”

At this point Justin gets up and walks over to sit behind me, so we’re back to back, leaning into eachother; his scent strongly overpowering mine.

“I would have opened the door when I saw your car in the woods, and hid behind it. Then, when you came in, I would leap up from behind it and hold a model knife to your throat,” he motions to a stand with a few airsoft guns and well-painted plastic knives. “With my free hand, I would cover your mouth to stop you from screaming with a chloroform rag, then pin you on the ground until you pass out.”

“Mmmmm,” I let the vibrations of my moan out, imagining his weight crushing me against the carpeted floor, his hand clenching my jaw shut, “What next?”

Even though there isn’t a sound, I feel Justin laugh slightly, “I am so glad you asked, faggot.”

The word itself shocks me in the best way possible. Like electricity that starts in my ears and ends in my fully-erect cock, tenting my shorts comically. I don’t even care that I burned my second truth.

“I wouldn’t do a whole lot until you woke up; but I would take your shirt and your pants off. Then I would let you feel, while your body is still waking up, as I put you in my stocks and shove my massive cock down your throat, you cock-sucking fag. Maybe I would do more, who knows?” With that he turns around with a speed I had seen him use on the field but never up close and in an instant he has me in a head lock.

He leans back and I’m powerless to stop him as he pulls me over him, my socked feet kicking in the air. I don’t know in that moment whether or not he’s acting on his plan. In reality, it’s only five seconds, but that sensational eternity of him restraining me with nothing but his sweaty, hairy body fills the space. But he lets go, and rolls back over to his chair.

“Okay, so that leaves a dare, gas-mask boy.”
“Gas-mask boy, really? That’s pitiful.”
“Yeah well its not my fault you have weird kinks.”
“Excuse me, you just tried to choke me!”
“Oh that was play.”

He laughs and I can’t stop myself from laughing alongside him. Just the hilarity and stupidity of what we’re doing washes over us in that moment and we’re stuck laughing helplessly at our own arousal until it vanishes. The bulge in my pants subsides, but from the looks of his compression shorts, his doesn’t. The image of him in his compression shorts brings my chub back.

“I dare you to put all your kinky shit in a box and bring it out here.”
“All my kinky shit?”
“Anything sexy. Ropes, lube, condoms, gags.”
“Okay well that’s not really possible but I can get everything from my room.”
“That’ll do.”

Without another word, Justin gets up from the floor and opens the right door on the far side of the room. In the moment its open I can see a desk and workout equipment, but no sign of anything explicitly sexy. A few seconds later he pokes his head out,

“This could take a few minutes, feel free to explore.”

The door shuts and suddenly I’m alone in his house. Judging from the complete lack of sound coming from his room, I have reason to believe its sound proofed.

Careful not to get lightheaded after my brush with suffocation, I stagger to my feet and wander around the room. The left door, evidently, leads into a full bathroom with a stone-tiled bathtub and solid iron curtain rod. The entire aesthetic of the bathroom matches the rustic/reclaimed atmosphere of the main room. I inspect is trophies, his airsoft collection, and video games before Justin comes back with a cardboard box roughly two feet on each side.

“Everything from my room is in there. There are a few, bigger things, but they’re hidden.”
He slaps my hand away when I go to open the box.

“Uh uh uh, the dare was to put it in a box, no where did you say you get to inspect the box.”

Annoyed by this technicality, I return to my place on one side of the coffee table, and another hand begins.
“lycra” I say and confidently slap down a two to his queen. Without a moment’s hesitation, “Dare.”
Justin gestures towards the box, “I dare you to play with the first thing I pull out of that box, as I tell you to do so.” His specificity annoys me, but I respect it. The mystery and sheer sexuality of the box excites me. He crawls over to the box and opens it so the flap blocks my vision, then reaches in. He fumbles for a moment, almost searching, until he finds what he was looking for. A rubber pump about the size of a football with a long nozzle attached. I had read about douching online, but never thought about doing it myself until now.

“Well, you know what to do,” and Justin points me towards the bathroom.

Once inside, I lock the door behind me and strip out of what remaining clothes I’ve kept. I relieve myself of what there was to relieve, and before I can shove the nozzle up my virgin ass, there’s a knock at the door. Even more frightening, a click. The handle twists and the door opens as though it were never locked!

“You might also need this,” Justin calls, depositing a small container on the counter by the sink. Lube.
Applying some to my fingers, I mash it around in the hair around my hole, inserting my fingers like I had tried before in the shower. I never got to the pleasure part of anal stimulation, and every time I had tried only wound up hurting myself. This time was no different as I took the filled douche and slid the nozzle through my hole. The smooth texture on an already lubed surface hurt less, but feeling it probe around was still unpleasant. How could I possibly think Justin would be any more pleasurable than this if this is hurting me? Regardless, I forced it farther in and squeezed the bulb.

Rinsing and repeating took the better part of 15 minutes, but when I returned, Justin was still there. The cards were still set, and there was more to play.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-The Game Ends-

“bondage” I say as I slap down my card. Justin wins this round, and smugly takes my pitiful 4 while I try to find a comfortable position to put my ass in. I’m still clothed with my shorts, compression shorts, and briefs; all to Justin’s compression shorts and whatever may lie beneath, but finding a position where my ass doesn’t throb from my recent exposure to douching is difficult. In light of this, I choose to take my compression shirt off, exposing my similarly toned, but far less substantial muscles to Justin.

Justin takes the compression shirt in his hand and crunches it into a ball before setting it in his pile of my clothes.
“domination, and I think that’s it.” The last kink I know I have and, through sheer luck, I win the round. Justin calls “Truth.”
“What are you wearing under your compression shorts, fuck-boy?”

“A jockstrap I’ve been using as a cum-rag for about a year and a cup that doesn’t smell too good either, but you’ll be the judge of that. And if those are all the kinks you think you have, then I guess your truth is complete.”
Free of my truth, the next round progresses normally. I play a 9. So does he.

“You know the rules?” I tease. Justin snarls sarcastically and sets three cards face-down. The loser has to pick a truth, dare, or strip; then do all three.

He slaps down a 5. I end up with a 2.

I take off my shorts and compression shorts simultaneously, being sure to show Justin that I had taken strip as my choice.
“Okay you jock-sniffing fag-boy, I dare you to let me shave you.”
“You’re gonna need a lot of razors, Justin.”

“Ohh no I’m not,” he pulls an electric razor from his box of sex. Additionally, he finds a hand razor, and a pair of scissors. Then, holding the scissors with the point under my chin, he leads me to the bathroom.

Being lathered in shaving cream by your ex-boyfriend is sexier than it sounds. The feeling of the lather, of him caressing my abs, my thighs, my armpits. The sensation of him having so much control over me that he can do this with no real consent from me; the feeling of being so strongly dominated by this 6’5 quarterback whose socks I had sucked so well he nearly creamed his jockstrap. He covered my legs and shaved them entirely in less than 5 minutes, and my chest hair was no real competitor either. When he was done, I was almost completely hairless.
“You can do the rest.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ass, balls, and bush.”

And with that, Justin closed the bathroom door.

By this point, he had no idea I was only in my briefs. I quickly dropped them and trimmed the top of my bush down to something the razor could handle. Once that was trimmed to a slightly-prickly, nearly-invisible stubble, came the issue of the ass. I has never shaved my ass due to its location relative to my, well, eyes. But on the counter was a small, flat handmirror. Positioning it under myself, I carefully lathered the area and shaved fully my cheeks and the area around my freshly douched hole. Then the balls.

Cupping my hands, I filled them with cold water from the tap. Then, by soaking my balls in the frigid water, I managed to get a surface manageable enough to shave. None of this was done with the grace of Justin’s shaving, but I still think it was clever and well done. Like a gay MacGyver getting ready for the hottest, kinkiest sex.

Coming out of the bathroom, Justin was not where I left him. In fact, he wasn’t in the room at all.

“Justin?” I called out.

From the kitchen, down in the main house on the first floor, came a muffled reply that sounded something like “water.” He came back a few seconds later with two glasses of water.

“Ready?” I prompted before the next round. Justin nodded and slapped down his card. With a jack, he beat my 9.
“Truth.”
“What toy do you hope is in my box, and what do you want me to do to you with it?”

“A cock-ring vibrator; the kind that wraps around your dick and balls then you shove the bulb up my ass. Tie me down and pop that on, then leave me be for an hour or two. By the time you come back I would do anything for some release.”

I lean forwards onto my elbows, lifting my feet and crossing them behind me so my ass is accentuated.
“Anything.”
Justin, for the first time in the game, properly blushes.
I win the next round.

Justin puts a thumb under his compression shorts and very delicately pulls them down so as to not disturb the jockstrap beneath. And from visual presentation alone, it is clear that every threat Justin has made about his cum-rag are true. He readies his cards, and loses the next round as well.

With one hand under his jockstrap, he uses the other to take it off his legs. Spitting in it, he tosses it into the pile. With the hand not holding his cup over his junk, he picks up his cards.
I lose the next round.
“Dare.”

“I dare you,” he begins, crawling towards me with one hand on his cup, “to let me make out with you.”

His tongue is in my mouth as soon as he finishes his dare. He prods and probes my lips and explores the mouth he used to own a year and a half ago while I respond in kind. His body is off to the side of mine and my legs go slack as all I care about is him in that moment, feeling him pull away to grasp a quick breath then fall back in to continue his barrage. He gags me with himself and when I try to fight back he lets me, and it feels good, and there is no pain only pleasure that leaves me to wonder what sucking this quarterback’s cock will be like.

A minute of this passes, then another, then five more, and another minute, and ten minutes pass before the knot of our tongues comes untied. He softly bites my ear lobe and caresses my ear with his tongue, pulling away and back to his cards.

Fittingly, he loses the next round.
“Dare.”
“I dare you to demonstrate the first thing you pull out of that box.”

With his free hand, he pulls out a small butt-plug. The classic tapered shape with a knob at the end; only a half inch thicker than the nozzle I used to douche.

“This,” he begins, “is the first butt-plug I bought. It was a year ago, about 6 months before I turned 18, and I used a fake ID to get it, even though the fucker at Spencer’s didn’t even ID me. All you need to do,” at this point he lays prostrate on the ground, with his ass up and his legs spread towards me. From this angle I can see he actually does shave or at least maintain his bush and the hair on and around his ass. It fades gradually into his fairly average leg hair, with none around his anus or on his cheeks.

“All you need to do, is force this fucker into yourself, and that’s it,” he does so with no flair, just popping the small plug into himself and sitting back down.

We deal another hand, and for the third time, we tie.

Each of us only has a single article of clothing left, so whoever loses, loses the game.

Without a word spoken, but with cocks equally hard, we place our three-card wagers, and flip our final cards.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Checkmate-

I flip a 4
He flips a queen.
I lose.

Justin sets his cards down on the ground, then gets up and brings over a simple wooden chair with arm rests.
“Okay, sit down.”

I do as he says.

He sits on the couch, facing me, and asks, “truth, or dare?”
I pull off my briefs to reveal my rock-hard cock, as it has been for much of the game. The front of my briefs nearly loaded with pre-cum, I forfeit them to his pile.

“Dare.”
“Okay, first dare. I dare you to stay the weekend. It’s Saturday night, so you would be free to leave as soon as I’m done with you Monday morning before noon.”
“I accept the dare.”

“Now for truth, tell me three things that drive you crazy sexually.”
“When guys are tied up and another guy forces them to smell their socked feet. Being physically pinned then gagged. And being gagged or tied so that I can’t stop you from fucking me however you want.”
“Good. Would you like your final dare?”

“Yes.”

“I dare you to do whatever I say until noon tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Okay then, stand up.”

I do so, and Justin picks up one of my own, horribly rank, two-year-old shoes. He pulls the laces open and stretches out the tongue. In doing so, he drops his protective cup.

The first thing I notice is that he does shave. His bush is relatively short and it blends well. The second thing I notice is the fact that he does have a monster cock. As hard as he is, it’s easily 9 inches and girthier than mine.

“Put your hands behind your head, faggot.”

I do so.

“You will call me sir, do you understand.”

“Yes.”

Using the shoe, he winds up and slaps my ass hard, then with his free hand forces me down to my shoulders.
“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Standing in front of me, he pauses for a moment; shoe in hand, cock inches from my submissive mouth.

“You will call me sir. Do you understand?”
“Yes… sir.”
“That’s what I thought, faggot.”

And he forces the tip of his massive cock into my mouth. Dropping the shoe, he holds the back of my head and slowly begins to thrust into and out of my mouth. Never much deeper than the head; yet.

“Do you enjoy this, faggot?”

He takes his dick out of my mouth just long enough for me to splutter through the pre-cum and saliva, “yes.” I get what I deserve as I’m pushed down to the ground and immediately he is thrusting is cock an inch deeper now into my mouth. It takes up so much space I don’t know how much more I can take, or that I could ever deep throat him like I dreamed, but for right now he seems satisfied in his using me. More pre-cum drips down my throat and I gargle out “yes, sir.”

He lightens his thrusts, but continues to fuck my face until he pulls out. A load similar to the one I shot earlier thinking about what he would do to me splatters against my face as I close my eyes. The second, third, and fourth all hit before a constant stream of sex pours against my skin. Justin sets his cock against my lips and I gently suck out what’s left before licking what I can get from around my lips. It’s sweeter than I expected, though just as salty.

“Get to the bedroom, faggot.”
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by bondagefreak »

Read the first few three chapters and enjoying myself quite a bit so far.
You've definitely got some talent, and I'm thrilled you decided to share some of it with us!

Excellent work, mate.
Your descriptions allow us to feel as though we we're standing right there, next to the narrator.

Looking forward to reading the rest of this over the weekend!
FOR A LIST OF ALL MY WRITTEN WORKS, CLICK HERE: BONDAGEFREAK'S STORIES

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Post by Veracity »

I very, very much hope you decide to continue this. Very hot.
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Post by sharpliketoday »

This is a great story so far! Thank you for sharing :)
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Post by Ossassin »

This is an incredibly hot piece. I love bets and games this is ticking those buttons beautifully
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Awakening-

My head is throbbing when I come back to consciousness.

What time is it?
How long was I asleep


I'm wearing the same clothes I was when I went for my run earlier. I have been so exhausted I fell asleep...

Looking around, my room is exactly how I left it. The window is slightly ajar to let some fresh air in but not so much to counteract the air conditioning. The sun is streaming in through the slits in the blinds. As I sit there, nothing but my satiny track shorts and thigh high black socks, I can't help but feel like a model. Playing the part, I make sure to emphasize every movement as I roll out of bed and stride over to my desk to check my-

phone?

My phone isn't on my desk... I could have sworn I left it there... Nevertheless, after searching, I find it on my bed. Was I scrolling through Instagram before I fell asleep? This really isn't like me, I wanted to get in some Apex before whatever's going on at Justin's hou-

As soon as I unlock my phone I'm greeted by the sexiest picture Justin had ever sent me. He didn't know I still had it, and there was no way I would delete something like this. Once, at a Red Lobster, he made a really kinky joke. Judging from what he sent me that night, he must have noticed my reaction was a little -too- hesitant.

There, looking back at me from my phone screen, was Justin. Buck naked save for a jockstrap, his socks, and his cleats, lying stomach-down on his bed with his ankles crossed up in the air behind him; a pair of handcuffs resting on his back.

Just thinking about the context of that image, Red Lobster for Christ's sake, got me hard. I hadn't even looked at it in months. Damn, I hope he doesn't find out about this tonight.

Speaking of, I quickly check my lock screen to see when I should get ready to leave only to see that it's already 4:45. If I don't leave now, I'm going to be late!

I very quickly change into the outfit I'd had planned after getting back from the run. My other track pants, change the boxer-briefs, compression gear, and an old lacrosse jersey. But when I went looking for my new sneakers, they weren't anywhere to be found. All there was were the two-year old sneakers I'd just worn for a run that day; and even they felt a little out of place, sitting by the door. Not having nearly enough time to question it, I threw them on and ran out the door.

The gas in the jeep seemed a little low, but what do I know. It's not like I check every day.

The ride is quiet and uneventful and the stress of getting there late takes my mind off of what may actually happen when I get there. Until, that is, I pass a Domino's delivery van a mile out from his house. He ordered pizza; there's definitely a party. Nothing crazy's gonna happen, it's just my birthday.

I pull down the long driveway and feel myself getting further and further from civilization until the Victorian mansion looms into view ahead of me. The jeep gets parked off to the side of the large gravel plot of a driveway and I take my time walking up to the door, letting them get their last minute surprises together.

knock knock knock

Nothing.

knock knock KNOCK KNOCK

Still nothing.

On the third fail, I sigh and turn around to get back in the jeep before my phone buzzes. It's Justin.

u knocking?
just come in


They must be hiding. Makes sense.

Turning the handle on the screen door, then the knob on the thick mahogany door, I step into the foyer. My footsteps echo across the hardwood floor. I glance right into the den and just barely catch a flicker of movement going out the other side. Cautiously, I follow.

For whatever reason one of the wooden chairs from the dining room has been moved into the den. I'm just passing it when something large and heavy hits me from behind.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-A New Game-

The body hits me and knocks me to the floor instantly. Thank god for shag carpeting, otherwise my nose probably would have been broken to hell and back. But there's no time to worry about that as my assailant quickly tries to pin my arms.

I fight back naturally, bucking my hips back to knock them off balance before coming around with one of my legs; scissoring the individual between my knees. This is the first time I get a good look at them, and I see they're taller than me with a much thicker, more athletic build. I'm by no means a shrimp, but whoever this is certainly has the weight advantage. And some kind of training, as they deftly fall out of my choke hold and land directly on my chest.

The air is knocked out of my lungs and my eyes begin to water, but I keep struggling. My assailant is wearing some kind of leather or rubber. It's all black and hard to tell with my impaired vision where they actually are. The face is completely obscured by what appears to be a WWII-era gas mask. While they may be straddling my chest, I still find the strength in my arms to keep knocking them around and aiming as much as I can for the mask.

Suddenly there's something cold against the side of my head. Right around my temple is the unmistakable shape of a handgun with a matte black finish.

cl-ICK

I stop moving entirely, and raise my hands perpendicular to the floor.

"Isn't that a good boy. We don't want you to end up like the other guy..." The voice comes out muddled and distorted, far moreso than the mask should account for. It's almost like he has a voice modulator under it.

"Listen. I'm just here fo-" before I can finish my sentence the barrel of the gun is in my mouth. Any doubts I had about its legitimacy are vaporized as the cold, hard metal grates against my teeth and the faint taste of gunpowder drifts across my tongue.

The man holds the gun there for a second. Two. Three. He pulls it out and I don't dare make another sound.

"Now. You're going to put your hands behind your fucking head. And you're gonna cross your legs."

I follow his orders to the letter, putting my hands behind my head such that my elbows were as close to the ground as I could get them and my ankles cross over. The man dismounts my chest and keeps the gun trained on my head before motioning to the chair. I slowly lower my hands and push myself to my feet, taking a seat in front of him.

"Sit tight. And don't even fucking think about running." The man leaves the room. As he does so, I get my first real look at him. While his height is roughly Justin's, he's terribly hunched and has much more paunch. I couldn't help but notice earlier that it felt a lot softer than muscle while we were fighting.

When he comes back, he still has the gun. Only now he's also got a roll of wider-than-average duct tape. "It's a shame I didn't get to use this on the other guy. He fought too much. But I guess I didn't buy it for nothing!" The thought of Justin lying cold and dead somewhere in this house completely removed any thought that this could be some elaborate prank.

As I sat there, heart beating through my shirt, the man began to tape my wrists to the armrests of the chair. Once that was done, he pulled my ankles up and under and taped them to one of the crossbars under the actual seat. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. I could tell already there was no getting out of this.

"Ah, well, no one's going to hear you if you scream you know, but I don't want to take any chances."

The man leaned forwards and wrapped one single extra-wide strip of duct tape from just under my nose to all the way under my jaw before doing three, five, seven complete layers. It felt like the blood was bein forced out of my face from the sheer pressure of the tape. To try and open my mouth, let alone talk, would be completely useless.

Without another word the man grabbed the back of the chair and began to pull me, completely immobilized, out of the room. We went up one flight of stairs, then another, until we arrived in the attic. Easily over 100 degrees in the summer, I was lucky he didn't tie my chest to the chair, otherwise I may not have been able to breathe very long in the stifling, humid atmosphere.

"Like I said, sit tight. Maybe I won't forget about you by the time I'm done here!"

And suddenly I was alone.

~~~~~~

For whatever reason, the robber had allowed me to keep my watch, so when I say I was up there for two hours, I know it for a fact. Three times in the last half an hour did I hallucinate that someone was coming to save me. The first time it was a voice, then I felt like there were footsteps behind me, then I thought I saw the man coming back up to finish me off.

But no. By the end of the first hour, my shirt was completely filled with sweat. And the thing about old sneakers is that while they may not always smell as old as they are, getting them wet tends to make it 10x worse and bring out the real demon. So the near acrid scent coming from my feet and the similarly sweat-drenched socks was nearly as suffocating as the heat that was threatening to properly do me in.

The second time I head the door open behind me, I thought it was another figment of my imagination. Another hallucination, maybe this the last one. But the footsteps felt real this time, and they persisted. Thick, heavy footfalls resonating from behind me. They came to a stop and were replaced by the scrunching, folding of leather against leather. I dared not turn around.

And yet, from behind me, a single gloved hand crossed under the armrest. It abruptly grabbed my thigh, leading me to yelp in shock.

MMMyyyuuuggghhhhh!!

A low chuckle, this time without the resonance but still definitely from behind the mask, rang out. "Oh, you like that?"

The gloved hand stroked down and up, back and forth across the inside of my thigh; every time just grazing my crotch. It wasn't long before I involuntarily found myself pitching a tent in my running shorts.

"Oooh, what do we have here?" said the voice. This time it was from right next to me, and I could feel his chin rest against my shoulder. Very suddenly, I felt his other hand forced between myself and the chair from behind; aggressively cupping and feeling up my firm ass.

MmmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMM

"Yeahhhh, that's right, moan for me fucker..."

I couldn't help myself as he stopped rubbing my thigh and shifted his attention to my crotch. I pulled as hard as I could against the armrests and screamed into my gag but the tape was just too much all around. There was nothing I could do to stop this man from what he wanted.

This went on for about a minute before he pulled both of his hands away, leaving me panting desperately for breath. Little did I know that was all a part of the plan.

Just to exacerbate my situation, the man reached around my face this time and clasped his hand over my nose. My lungs immediately began to burn as my nose flared in and out pulling up what little oxygen was left through his steel grip. I moaned further and screamed but nothing came out as the last of my air was used up. Black spots took my vision and he still didn't let go. Only once my head dropped and I closed my eyes did I feel the paradoxically cool air flood back into my lungs.

The fine edge of a knife slid up under my cheekbone, cutting a line through the wall of tape, and I could feel him unfold a flap over my mouth. I audibly gasped for ten seconds just filling my lungs again, not having the capacity to say anything. Once the panting stopped, I felt the tape push back against my mouth and I was silenced once more.

This time, rather than a hand, a rag was pressed to my nose. The acrid stench reminded me of bleach, but sweeter. I knew what was happening, and I was already so weak. There was nothing I could do but relax and let the chloroform take me.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Masks-

The second time I woke up that day was admittedly a lot sexier than the first. Which, considering I woke up strewn across my bed in nothing but shorts and some pretty rank socks, really says something.

This time wasn't nearly as comfortable. My legs were somewhere below me, each one tied with what felt like rope to the legs of whatever I was bent over. My thighs were similarly tied down, keeping my hips completely immobilized at the edge. Finally, my wrists were pulled straight forwards and tied together around some kind of bar. As I regathered my senses, I found that none of my clothes had been removed, and I was neither gagged nor blindfolded.

Taking in my surroundings, I was in a strangely familiar building. A worktable with some scraps of paper and random handtools in one corner, a ridemower against the back wall. This was Justin's shed. I was bent over a second worktable with my hands tied around one of the posts keeping the loft up.

And there, sitting across from me, was the man. The paunch was gone, which was strange, but his attire was otherwise unchanged. I could clearly see now that he was wearing black leather ass-less chaps and a black leather straight jacket with gloves rather than mitts. All in all it was already a strange ensemble, even before the gas mask.

"What the fuck do you want with me?"

The man stood up, and casually walked over to me. His boots accentuating his every step. He passed by my head, and given my position there was no way for me to turn to face him. I heard something unzip before the unmistakable voice of Justin responded,

"To finish what you started last night, fucktoy."

Before I could respond, the mask was pulled over my face and zipped from behind. Luckily I could still breathe fine and he had neglected to gag me even still. "What the fuck, Justin! Let me out of here! What are you even doing!"

More unzipping and clattering of latches and the leather straight jacket landed on the floor in front of me. Then the assless chaps. Justin walked back into my line of sight in nothing but tight red and black compression gear, his black socks, and those black boots.

"Oh no, I'm not letting you out for a while," he pulls over the chair he had been sitting on and props up a foot on it, systematically untying one of the boots, "as for what I'm doing, well, you practically asked for this!" He finished untying the boot and rummaged around in a bin underneath the table. No... not a bin, a box. For some reason I get the sense I'm just not remembering something.

He came back up with a long coiled tube in one and the boot in the other and set them both on the table in front of me. Then, he flipped a coin right under my nose.

"We're gonna play a little game. Every time I flip a heads, you're going to tell me a truth; and every time I flip a tails, I'm gonna do a little dare." He pulled out his phone and showed me a list that I can't pull anything out of as well as a random number generator. "Every time I flip two of the same in a row, you lose an article of clothing!"

"What? No!! Just fucking untie me you asshole! I don't want to play your stu-" Justin cut me off mid-sentence by fastening one end of the tube to my mask and holding his hand over the other end. It took a second but the air quickly became very thin.

"Shut up before I do anything unpleasant."

He released my tube and II, like the sub I am, didn't say a word.

"Good. Now, let's start."

The coin clattered against the table. "Heads! Okay cumslut, what's the first thing you want me to shove down your pants?"

I sighed, "Whatever gets me out of this the fastest."

"Oh you're no fun. Trust me, you're going to love this." He flips again, another heads. "Ah, and would you look at that!" He got up from his chair and walked over to my legs where I could feel him untying my sneakers. Both of them. Once he was done prying them off, I waited for him to come back to ask me a question, only to feel two consecutive stinging slaps against my ass.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"That's for being such a prude with that last question. Now, do you want me to fuck your mouth first or your ass?"

The bluntness of the question took me by surprise and for the first time since I arrived I was starting to get a little horny. The idea of taking his massive cock in my mouth while I was powerless to stop him...

"I'll blow you, but you aren't fucking my mouth."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Do you really think you can stop me?"

"Flip the coin and maybe you'll find out."

Another heads.

"Oh wow, now what are the odds of that! get ready fuckboy, because you are running out of clothes fast."

Justin returned to my backside and this time slipped both of my socks out from under the ropes. This was the first time I was feeling the rope directly against my skin and the abrasion of it was somehow turning me on more and more. But he didn't stop there. I felt the same blade as earlier glide against my thigh, then heard the ripping of fabric as my compression shorts and running shorts were cut clean off.

"Hey! That's no fair. And now I have to buy new ones."

"Oh shut up and answer the question, faggot."

"What was the question."

"Do you really think you can stop me?"

I took a second to consider everything that was happening. There was still something going on I couldn't quite place, but nevertheless I responded "let me out of these ropes and we'll find out."

"Saucy. Alright then cocksucker, you flip." Justin rested the coin against one of my bound, closed fists. I released my thumb and sent it bouncing against the gas mask. It rolled to a stop against my forearm.

"Tails. You know what that means..." Justin brought up his phone; leaning back while he did so to expose his sweaty socks propped up against the table.

"14. Have fun melting an ice cube... Okay then..."

He walked out of sight once more and I heard what sounded like a cooler opening. When he came back he had a number of ice cubes.

"One for your cock," he said, slipping one hand into my exposed boxer-briefs. He opened it and I immediately felt the ice against my head. The pain was electric as it slid around, freezing and stimulating. "And one for us," with this one he leaned across the table and pulled up the gas mask. My mouth was open to retort, so he took the opportunity to pop the ice cube in. As I tried to spit it out, he gagged me with his most efficient weapon.

His lips locked to mine, he forced the ice cube further in with his tongue. It got dangerousy close to the back of my throat before I caught it and the panic caused me to tug against the support beam. The ropes dug deeper into my wrists and ankles as I contracted my entire body. Finally, I caught the ice cube against my tongue and forced it back. He caught it with his and so we began pushing it back and forth; tongues stinging from the cold. Once I finally got it deep into his mouth he bit my tongue and I naturally pulled back. But it was too late, the ice cube melted against the back of his throat. He pulled his tongue out and closed his lips. Before dropping the mask back over my face, he spit directly on my cheek.

"Serves you right, fucking fag. I'm gonna flip now, you don't deserve the illusion of control." The coin clattered against the table again.

"Hmm. Heads. So what would you rather be forced to suck on; my sneakers, my socks, my underwear, or my cock?"

"Socks. You can have fun with your cock in other ways."

It was his turn to look a little surprised. "Alright then, I guess you're right." The coin was flipped again.

"Tails. 6. Tickle. But before we get to that..."

He wandered out of my line of sight again and I felt the knife very slowly tracing up one ass cheek. It hit the waistband of my boxer briefs and paused for a moment before splitting them up the middle. Then back down the other cheek, barely gracing the skin as it tugged the fabric away. The cloth fell away and I was left in nothing but my shirt and the compression shirt underneath.

"Mmmmm its not like there's any way you can stop me from taking you right now like the whore you are..." he traced a finger through my crack. I relaxed into the table, ass spread wide, and felt his compression shorted cock, wildly erect and bulging against the synthetic fibers, sliding against me.

Mmmmmmmmmmm
He moaned, grabbing my sides. Little did I realize it was all a ploy. His hands were in optimal position, and suddenly the assault began.

He pulled himself away from my ass and at the same time dug his fingers into my sides. He was merciless and I was defenseless; my hands tied above me.

"No! Pleeeeease Aahhahaahha AHHAHHAAAA Ple no plee no no no AHAHAHAHAHAaaaAAAAAaaa"

From the ribs he moved up into my pits and dug into them. I couldn't even keep track of his hands I was so delirious. So I didn't even notice until it was too late that he had taken the tube of the gas mask and slid it into his boot...

The smell hit my nose but there was nothing I could do. He was forcing me, in so many different ways, to smell his sweaty feet. The gas mask, the bondage, and the tickling perfectly combined to leave me helpless against the overpowering odor of his jock soles. Looking over, through the tears, I could see the boot on its side and the tube leading into it. I thrashed back and forth, partially due to the tickling which had now moved onto my thighs, and partially to see if I could yank the breathing tube out, but to no avail. I was trapped and there was nothing to do but accept his smelly dominance.

For some reason, he stopped before he got to my feet. Which, for the record, would have utterly slain me.

He slumped back against his chair and just watched me as I tried to catch my breath. He also seemed a little taken out of it by the whole endeavor; which had lasted maybe five whole minutes. He just stared at me and rested a hand on his raging boner. My own dick was left swinging under the table after my underwear was cut off.

"Okay, I think I've had enough games."

He walked back over to where I presumed the cooler was and brought back a small amber bottle. Carefully, he dumped a little in the boot my breathing tube was still shoved down, and held his hand tight to make a seal. The same sickly sweet smell filled my lungs and the last thing I saw was Justin sliding a hand down his shorts...
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Sniffmyfeet »

I like this story, thank you for writing it. The style of writing is really entertaining and I love the way in which Justin uses his socks and boots to torture his ex-boyfriend. The sexiness is real in this story, these guys are really horny for each other.
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Post by Sockbound1234 »

Love this story
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Tension-

This time he waits to tie me down until I'm awake.

The sheets under me are cool under my bare skin, and as I roll over gently I realize I'm completely naked. No compression shorts, jockstrap; nothing but me.

My vision hasn't fully returned yet but as he flips me onto my back I see the ceiling above me come into focus. Or rather, the underside of the bed above me. Out of the corners of my still-hazy eyes I recognize the shape of a bunk bed; and Justin.

He's wearing a black compression shirt and what looks like a black leather speedo. I can't concentrate enough to see his hands but the rough, cool feeling of leather lights up my body where he touches me.

He lunges forwards into the confined space of the top bunk and straddles me around the gut.

"Mmmmmm Justi-" I moan. As I raise my arms feebly to try and shove him off of me I'm immediately smothered by his bare feet, which had been resting on either side of my face. They aren't as rank as his socks, but the smell and taste of sweat and clammy skin cover my face as his soles grind my head into the sheets. Justin says nothing, but continues his work.

Keeping my face subdued with his massive jock feet, he gets to work tying me up. First he pulls up my left leg, then my left arm, and duct tapes my wrist to my thigh. With my leg stuck up in the air, he moves on to the right side. All the while I yell and mutter into my improvised gag.

"AGGHAHMMMMMM! AASgggGGgGggggnmhm-" I'm cut off suddenly as one of his big toes finds its way into my mouth.

"Suck it, faggot. I'm letting you practice for later"

Now with his feet covering my face and in my mouth, its completely impossible for me to call out. By now my strength is returning after the chloroform treatment, but its too late. Both my wrists are duct taped to my thighs, and my ankles are pulled even further and tied together around one of the struts supporting the bed above me.

Justin gets off of me and my position becomes brutally clear. I had been so distracted by his feet that I didn't even notice my bare ass being completely exposed with my bare soles hanging helplessly in the air.

"Come on man, please don't do this..." I plead. But its useless. As soon as I see him standing over me, his own bulge almost bursting out of the tiny leather pouch, his toned physique jutting against the fabric of the compression shirt, it's all over. My cock is fully erect within seconds and it almost feels like I'm leaking precum already.

"Please, don't fuck me"

Justin silently steps forward and back into the bed, this time straddling my chest such that he forces my arms down and my legs even further up. The predicament bondage is painful, but the sheer ecstasy of his presence blocks it out.

"Not another word, faggot."

I want to make him angry. I want him to fuck me like the bad boy I am. I want him to punish me.

"No, let me go!" I yell with as much force as I can muster with his full weight on my chest. Not a moment later one of his leather-wrapped hands is over my mouth.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMM"

"That's more like it... you've been a very naughty boy. Someone needs to teach you what happens to beta jocks who misbehave..." His voice is raspy and sharp and he's putting on the southern drawl that he knows turns me on.

Reaching somewhere above me on the bed with his free hand, he shifts his crotch closer to my face. The smell of his cock sweat leaching through the leather is overpowering. He pulls his hand back and releases my mouth, only to force in something hard and metal. I struggle, almost playfully, and after exploring with my tongue find its a metal ring holding my mouth open. He snaps it harshly into place behind my head, snagging some of my hair in the process.

Next comes the blindfold. As he pulls it down over my eyes, he pulls down his leather thong as well, showing off just a hint of whats in store for me. The head of his rock hard cock is a throbbing purple color and the shaft goes on and on further than I can see before my vision is taken.

I feel his weight move off of me, leaving me tied up with my legs spread in the air and my mouth forced to accept whatever he wants to to with it. It's his now, all of me is. His breathing is steady and quiet, and I hear him strip off what he had been wearing. He crosses to the other side of the room and rustles around, looking for something. He quickly finds whatever it was and returns.

Without warning, both of my nipples are filled with searing pain.

"aaaahh! Aaahhh! AAAHHHhhhGGG!" I yell through my open mouth. The pinching, burning sensation persists and persists and I spasm against my bonds trying to thrash the clamps off. The duct tape around my wrists holds them firm, and my ankles are too firmly tied to the crossbar.

"Ooooh yeah. That's right you cocksucker," Justin drawls right next to my ear, "maybe this will take your mind off of it..."

Before I can even consider what that could mean something is plunged through the ring gag. It fills the hole and penetrates deep into my mouth, nearly scraping the back of my throat. The silicone dildo has an unmistakably warm, salty taste to it. The thrashing just makes his cum drip down it faster.

"I didn't want your mouth to feel neglected while I pound your ass. It's not the real thing, not that you deserve to choke on my cock."

Justin's sex continues to drip down the veined rubbery surface and I find myself licking it off. My tongue explores every nook and curve of the dildo, finding his cum and savoring it. A flare in the pain around my nipples pulls me out of my trance. It feels like he's tied the clamps to something, but I can't tell. The bed shakes, and I hear Justin's footsteps tracing the bed around to where my exposed ass is sitting, waiting for him.

First his hands take me by the thighs. They wrap over mine, pulling me towards him on the bed. Then they release me, and travel upwards, paying no attention to my own throbbing member. He caresses his way along my abs, coming to a stop along the sides of my rib cage. One hand releases, and I hear the sound of a cap popping open before a thick, cool gel drips between my spread ass cheeks.

For the first time, his cock touches my ass. I had been dreaming of this moment since before I asked him out. Imagining what it would feel like for him to force his way into me, take me. He slides all 8 inches up and down over my crack, sending waves of pleasure through me. The hand he used to apply the lube returns to my side, and I feel him start to push in.

"Mmmmgglllllhhh, MmmmlGHHHHHH, MMMMMGGHHHHHHH" I moan, then yell, then scream as I feel him pushing my hole further and further open. It snaps back once his head has entered, but I know his cock and I know this is just the beginning. He pulls back, the lip at the head of his dick straining my virgin asshole, and I moan again, this time thrashing my legs.

At this point I realize what he had done to the nipple clamps. As I thrash my bare feet up and down, trying to leverage my way out from under the athlete taking my body, the string pulls taught and my nipples are yanked by the clamps. The pain is now firing from my nipples down and my ass up as with each consecutive thrust Justin drives himself another centimeter into me. The thrusts come slowly at first. Just getting his head in was hard enough, but my hole begins to relax as he pushes further into me.

Now every time I breathe it comes out as a ragged moan. "MMMmhhhhh MmmmHhhhhhh Mmmmmhhhhh" I time it to his thrusts, breathing in every time he pulls his cock back and pushing out every time he thrusts it back a little deeper in. Then, something electric gets set off. I had heard of the prostate, and what it does, but I had never gone looking for it myself. Now, Justin has found it. The pain suddenly flips and I ignore the burning sensation in favor of the waves of ecstasy Justin is giving me. He pumps faster, and faster, until he's practically pulling my bound and gagged body onto himself as much as he is pushing himself into me.

The pain and the pleasure build and build until it feels like I just can't take it any more. My dick, which has been fully erect for at least 15 minutes now, is in pain with the weight of the orgasm I need to unleash. But I can't. I can't release. I reach desperately, trying to jack myself off, but my hands are still bound firmly to my legs. The dildo in my mouth has gone dry of his cum by now, and I can feel him getting more and more agitated.

Finally, he stops. He leans forwards into me, crushing my cock between the two of us, and pulls the dildo out of my mouth with one hand and the blindfold off with the other. For the first time I see the true nature of my predicament with the nipple clamps, and with him. All 8 inches of his engorged dick are there in plane view, and I can't bring myself to look away. He pulls off his condom and drops it off the side of the bed without a word, bringing himself closer and closer to my face.

"Do you want to suck my cock?"
"eahs." I struggle against the ring gag
"Yes?"
"eeahs leeahs, sehr. I ant your cahck, I ant you t-" and its in me. The head and a solid four inches are buried in my mouth. I gag instantly but the pleasure almost seems to override it. He drives himself in and out and in and out, my tongue trying to satisfy him and pull every drop of him that comes out.

His moaning increases in volume and I can tell it won't take long for him to climax. And eventually, he does. The explosive release of semen fills my mouth and I retch from the amount that floods down my throat. He buries what can fit in my mouth and I savor every last drop of cum. When he pulls out, a long ribbon of sex dangles out and drops over my chin.

"Damn can you suck a cock" he says, leaning back on my stomach.
"Aahnk you sehr" I plead, over and over I repeat the same three words, hoping he'll remember my own unsatisfied needs.

He pops the nipple clamps off, sending one final jolt of hot pain through me. And almost like and after thought I see him reach towards my groin and pull something. Two solid metal rings, like a pair of handcuffs for my junk, come undone. Precum immediately begins to flood out and he uses it as lube for one, two, three, four jerks before I climax. White hot semen bursts out of me into ribbons on my stomach and I spasm uncontrollably. My body bucks against the binds but they still hold me strong.

Justin leaves and returns a few minutes later with a knife. He unties my ankles and cuts my wrists free. For the first time in a half an hour I relax my legs back onto the bed and feel myself completely exhausted, melt against the sheets. Justin curls into the bed next to me, and I instinctively roll, letting myself be spooned by the jock. He unclasps the gag, and sets it aside, before turning my head back to him.

He looks deeply into my eyes and I see that all his talk was just talk. He presses his lips against mine and doesn't even bother with the tongue. We stay like that, curled up in bed, for a few more hours while the sun sets outside.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Sniffmyfeet »

I like the action in this chapter. It’s really sexy. Wow! You described it very visually, I could imagine being there and watching it or even experiencing it.
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Post by NeedControl »

I'm very confused by the sudden restart of the story. They were going to his bedroom after he had lost the game, and then suddenly he is waking up again on his birthday morning and we are replaying an alternate version of the day...

Is this a dream? If so, when does he wake up from it, and we get back to what is happening in reality? Or was the first time a dream? Or am I missing something?


I was really really enjoying the story until then, but now, although the content that follows is certainly fun, I don't understand how it fits together, so I'm not sure what to make of it all.


Regardless though, your writing is quite good, and I've really had fun imagining the things playing out with me as one of the characters! 😋
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Afterglow-

Justin doesn't seem like a little spoon, but I know better. Together, naked, in the bottom bunk of his bed, I wasn't really expecting him to just lull off. Remembering all the heavy lifting he did, carrying me from the house to the shed and back then all the way up the stairs, and having to lug the ropes around too. Maybe it was a workout for him.

His nap gives me a chance to take it all in. The setting sun outside, just at the end of golden hour, throws long shadows on the black walls. The ropes from earlier are still out, along with the other toys. Two coils, a dildo, a pair of nipple clamps, and a ring gag all sit on a towel he had thrown across the floor (I guess in case things got too wild for the bed).

From where I lie I can see where he hides the rest of his gear. The closet door is open just enough that I can see the opened false wall, and the some of the outfits within. There's a leather jacket, leather pants (ass optional), and what looks like a full suit of black, white, and blue lycra. As for the toys and ropes, most of them are better hidden than the butt plug on his desk. His family must be away too...

Thinking of Justin, home alone, forcing the black rubber bulb up, nudging his prostate while he tickles the strip of flesh between his balls and his ass, is almost enough to make me cum again. And he's right here, helplessly asleep.

All the things I could do to his masculine, muscle-bound body drive my cock right back up to fully erect, and grazing the small of Justin's back. Before I can go any further, something stops me. Some of my plans feel impossibly familiar. I shouldn't know he has that gag, or those cuffs. But for some reason I do.

The strange sensation of deja vu doesn't pass. There are memories I shouldn't have, or at least don't remember ever having in the past. I look back at the closet and it all comes back at once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I have my ex-boyfriend tied to a chair in front of me, and I'm panicking.

Back when Justin and I were dating it was easier for me to tie knots because he kept me practicing. Every cancelled date at my house was another time I had gotten so close to finally tying up my sexy companion. When things ended between us, I didn't have that motivation. Hell, when all of this started happening so quickly I had to run downstairs and dilute the sanitizer for some of my toys that were starting to get dusty.

And the knots, I completely forgot how to tie even the most intermediate middle of the road knots when I was practicing this morning! Max either knew how easily he could slip out and was playing his part as the captive, had already escaped, or simply hadn't tested his bonds yet because when he did, he would easily slip out. Basic knots, simple knots, knots I taught myself when I first searched for "how to tie a guy up" in middle school.

Then I turned around and saw him. Max, my ex-boyfriend, there. His wrists pulled back, crossed, and tied to his ankles behind and under the chair. The whole position made all the exciting parts of his body pop right off the chair. His freshly shaved armpits and chest, probably itching real bad by now. His abs that had improved significantly since we broke up. And of course, the cock that could hardly be contained by the hand-me-down jeans I had never planned on wearing, now part of the outfit I had every intention of stripping him out of piece by piece.

And it all came back at once.

By the time midnight rolled around I had orgasmed seven times. Three over his mouth, two in, and two up his tight, tight ass. Clearly, his mouth was my favorite, and the attention looked pretty appreciated by him as well. My dildos, gags, socks, toes, and cock all eventually got a turn in his fag-hole. There wasn't much he could do to stop me. Every thirty minutes I switched his position. Chair tie to hogtie to spread eagle in the backyard to bent over a sawhorse in the shed. His personal favorite was a freestanding tie with four coils; ankles, just above the knee, wrists by the sides at the hips, and a shoulder harness. Combined with a winch so I could pull him up by the feet it made the perfect tie to abuse his sexy bare feet.

Constantly, throughout all of this, I had a plan. He owed me another day, and he had already told me he wanted to be surprised. Between positions, I let him have some water to keep himself hydrated, and only on our last drink of the night did he see me slip the tablet into his water.

"I don't think you'll have to wait very long before I'm passed out" he said, taking the glass but not drinking yet.

"It's a salt tablet, you lost a lot of electrolytes in your sweat."

"I think you gave me all the salt I need" without another word Max downed the entire glass and went back to the bedroom. I found him completely unconscious on the couch outside. I didn't have to wait very long at all.

Driving him home was a nice break from the pure thrill of that night, but somehow not nearly as calming as doing his laundry once I was certain I had the outfit right. The sweat-stains from the run and cum-stains from what came after would tip him off that something was up, and there was no way I was going to turn up an opportunity to see him in that outfit again, especially if things went according to plan. I left him in his bed and hoped that he wouldn't check the date when he woke up after a nice, long, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was impossible to get out of bed without waking Justin, but he understood without a single word said. I found my clothes dry, if stained, and threw them back on; as did he. My phone was right where he left it downstairs, and I confirmed my suspicions without unlocking it. My birthday was yesterday. The realization brought back in more vivid detail the sensations he had put me through then, and I felt the soreness in my jaws a little more.

Justin cleaned up in his room and together we ordered something for dinner. The fettuccine Alfredo was delivered by an UberEats driver that we both agreed would look far better hogtied, and we ate almost all of it on the back porch. We talked about simple things, other things. Everything, for once, felt resolved. We could move on now. And it was about time. Three more weeks until we both moved out and realized just how close our colleges are...

But we didn't know that then, so we were content to sit and bask in the afterglow of two sunsets, a dozen orgasms, and a relationship.

[END]
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

Thank you all for your support and commentary. Life isn't good at helping schedules so the abrupt restart was understandably confusing. I hope you all enjoyed my slightly more conventional erotica-style story.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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