A WEEKEND COURSE (M/M)
A WEEKEND COURSE (M/M)
A WEEKEND COURSE
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They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
A WEEKEND COURSE
Edited by Dannysuling (deviantart.com/dannysuling)
FOREWORD
Readers might have met my boy, David, and me in the story “Who’s In Charge?” People seemed to be interested to know more about us, so here is another little tale. It should not be necessary to read the original story first, but I thought I should rebalance things a bit after having been told by certain people (no names, no pack drill) that I should not let him get away with being in the driver’s seat so often.
A WEEKEND COURSE
We’ve been together for nearly two years at this point, and we’ve never been apart for even a single night. Until now.
David has had to go on a three-day course the other end of the country, to keep his professional qualifications up to date. What with a visit to his parents on the way home (they still won’t accept me as his husband), my little cuddle-bunny was going to be gone for the best part of five days. Neither of us was looking forward to it, but needs must….
Perhaps I should have told him that I’d arranged leave of absence from work while he was away? Perhaps I’m a better actor than I think I am because he even seemed to believe me when I said repeatedly how sorry I was that my own work was preventing me from going with him. Perhaps I’m just a lying, devious, evil bastard. You decide.
The Friday before David’s departure, we had both arranged to leave work early for reasons of observing ‘Poets’ Day’ (‘Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday’). I decided to make sure that we would have a good boys’ night in, at least until David needed to go to catch the train at about five o’clock to be able to check into his hotel at a reasonable hour. I had made him a going-away present, which had taken me quite a long time in the firm’s workshop over the past fortnight. I only hoped he would like it. Of course he did; he could hardly wait to get his kit off when he saw it.
I took the present over to the sofa and opened it and shut it a few times, while David went to the bedroom and changed for action. It was obvious that he liked his gift, because he reappeared dressed in only those new blue briefs that he thought suited him so well. They were unarguably gay — sparkly and undeniably tight. He was certainly already filling them out somewhat. I knew that wearing his currently favourite garment would make access slightly less convenient during one of our possible choices of activity but, as they say on the Beeb, other orifices are available.
David sat on the floor and was soon locked snugly into his present. Beforehand, I thought that it might interfere with the most obvious, shall we say, ‘activity’ upon which we could embark. But upon seeing him immobilised like that certain things became obvious. First, David is strong enough to manage (with a little help from a friend). Second, I’m still supple enough to keep my feet tucked out of the way. Three, none of the neighbours would be able to hear any unavoidable rattling.
Since he was obviously ready, I got a dining chair and positioned it in front of him. Christ, he looked good like that—wearing those now bulging briefs but just about mobile enough to oblige. Sitting there and grinning like a loon made him look even more handsome, so I took a photo on my phone.
TBC
Edited by Dannysuling (deviantart.com/dannysuling)
FOREWORD
Readers might have met my boy, David, and me in the story “Who’s In Charge?” People seemed to be interested to know more about us, so here is another little tale. It should not be necessary to read the original story first, but I thought I should rebalance things a bit after having been told by certain people (no names, no pack drill) that I should not let him get away with being in the driver’s seat so often.
A WEEKEND COURSE
We’ve been together for nearly two years at this point, and we’ve never been apart for even a single night. Until now.
David has had to go on a three-day course the other end of the country, to keep his professional qualifications up to date. What with a visit to his parents on the way home (they still won’t accept me as his husband), my little cuddle-bunny was going to be gone for the best part of five days. Neither of us was looking forward to it, but needs must….
Perhaps I should have told him that I’d arranged leave of absence from work while he was away? Perhaps I’m a better actor than I think I am because he even seemed to believe me when I said repeatedly how sorry I was that my own work was preventing me from going with him. Perhaps I’m just a lying, devious, evil bastard. You decide.
The Friday before David’s departure, we had both arranged to leave work early for reasons of observing ‘Poets’ Day’ (‘Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday’). I decided to make sure that we would have a good boys’ night in, at least until David needed to go to catch the train at about five o’clock to be able to check into his hotel at a reasonable hour. I had made him a going-away present, which had taken me quite a long time in the firm’s workshop over the past fortnight. I only hoped he would like it. Of course he did; he could hardly wait to get his kit off when he saw it.
I took the present over to the sofa and opened it and shut it a few times, while David went to the bedroom and changed for action. It was obvious that he liked his gift, because he reappeared dressed in only those new blue briefs that he thought suited him so well. They were unarguably gay — sparkly and undeniably tight. He was certainly already filling them out somewhat. I knew that wearing his currently favourite garment would make access slightly less convenient during one of our possible choices of activity but, as they say on the Beeb, other orifices are available.
David sat on the floor and was soon locked snugly into his present. Beforehand, I thought that it might interfere with the most obvious, shall we say, ‘activity’ upon which we could embark. But upon seeing him immobilised like that certain things became obvious. First, David is strong enough to manage (with a little help from a friend). Second, I’m still supple enough to keep my feet tucked out of the way. Three, none of the neighbours would be able to hear any unavoidable rattling.
Since he was obviously ready, I got a dining chair and positioned it in front of him. Christ, he looked good like that—wearing those now bulging briefs but just about mobile enough to oblige. Sitting there and grinning like a loon made him look even more handsome, so I took a photo on my phone.
TBC
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
It was going to be a hell of a ride!
You do not have the required permissions to view the files attached to this post.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
He seems rather pleased with himself.
I suppose I would too if I looked like that.
I suppose I would too if I looked like that.
Yup! The artist did a good job there.
Thanks for commenting.
Thanks for commenting.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
A WEEKEND COURSE
You know, for someone who practically begs to be tied up before sex, I’ve never understood why David won’t get a tongue piercing. He’s good enough in the blowjob stakes as it is, but I’m sure that a well-placed tongue stud would improve things even more. Oh well, better make do….
I sat on the chair, not too far back, and waited for my subbie to get started. Of course, I was quite prepared to help him, so I reached down and pulled the pranger towards my chair, grabbed David by the ears, and guided his mouth to my belt buckle. I had loosened it a little bit, but I really enjoy it when he fumbles around trying to grab the loop in his teeth. It really gives me time to get going as he finally finishes and has the end removed from the buckle. He always looks pleased with himself at that stage. I linked my fingers behind my nape and leaned back. David gripped the free end of the belt between those perfect teeth and pulled it free from the buckle’s prong. Every time his face came into the close proximity of my enlivened wand, I could actually feel it throbbing.
David looked up. I looked down and unfastened my waistband. I held the belt buckle to one side (anything to help a mate) and nodded towards the zipper. I saw no reason to hurry. David’s nuzzling around as he tried to grip the pull had exactly the effect I required, and I was just about ready for him to start by the time he had opened my fly completely and I had released the beast.
From his actions so far, it looked as if there was no real reason for me to hold onto his ears but, you know…. He looked at me, I looked at him, and then pulled him down onto what was necessarily the focus of his attentions for the next few minutes. He sucked, he licked, he pumped, and — let’s face it — I didn’t try too hard to stop his head from moving rhythmically. When I started that massive inhalation that always seems immediately to precede a satisfactory conclusion, I lifted my right foot over his left arm, over the wooden device that was securing my lover, and gently stroked the front of those over-extended briefs with my big toe. He hardly missed a stroke. He’s really good at his job: even when I had finally come to a climax, he kept his lips in place.
After a short pause, I heard an interrogative “Mmmm?”.
I let the pause continue while I relaxed and he continued to enclose my increasingly flaccid cock. “Okay,” I finally relented, “off you get.” David slid off me without opening his lips. I waited. He swallowed. He then set about gently licking my gradually relaxing member. “Good boy.” I scruffed his hair as if he were a small child. “Wanna drink?”
David smiled and nodded. I gave his dick just a few more strokes with my toe before standing. I didn’t think I would give him release (in any respect) yet. He didn’t expect it and, indeed, would have been disappointed if I had gone for it so soon. I kicked off my shoes, pulled down my trousers, kicked them off as well, and did my best to tuck myself back into my boxers. I then went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for David and a cold lager for myself. Upon returning, I placed the bottle and glass on the coffee table and approached my suspicious partner. (I wonder why he often looks so suspicious when I return from another room?) I lifted the wooden device, forcing David onto the small of his back, and turned him to face the sofa. He didn’t exactly seem surprised when I dragged him over to it. At least with that wooden floor he didn’t sustain any carpet burns. He had still managed to say nothing. He was doing well.
I sat, fed David the water gradually and without spilling too much, and then wiped his chin and (needlessly) his chest with my hand. I might just have given his nipples a little twist on the way past, of course. Still he had not spoken. I wondered if perhaps he wouldn’t want what I had in mind for him next.
David sat crouched in his wooden restraints and watched me as I took a few gulps from the bottle and then produced something from behind a cushion on the sofa. I thought I saw his shoulders slump. It’s difficult to tell when he is secured like, that but there was certainly a sigh. I’m still not sure how to interpret David’s sighs reliably, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask him.
I took the rope in my right hand and formed four loops round the fingers of my left one. Now David knew what I had in mind. Four additional loose loops at right angles round the originals, and four more at right angles woven between both sets, and the ‘monkey’s fist’ was starting to form in the middle of the rope. Now David was looking vaguely disappointed. The last time I had used that type of gag on him, he had said that, although the single rope strands dug demandingly enough into his lips, the knot didn’t fill his mouth very efficiently. But I had that covered this time…that ought to teach him!
I produced a fair-sized round avocado stone (yeah, yeah, I know…don’t say it!) from behind the cushion. Alright, that was a bit unusual, but I tried it with a squash ball while David wasn’t at home and it would have been too big. So, an avocado stone would have to do. He could always break his duck and ask me, “What the fuck…?” I inserted the avocado stone into the loose knot and gradually enclosed it snugly. Looked quite smart afterwards, and we both seemed to have become quite hard again.
“David?” I only ever use his name when he is in restraints to see that things are okay with him. He just looked at me. I stood up. I went round behind him and reached over his head. David opened his mouth, and I lodged the newly formed, and quite sizeable, gag behind his teeth. An over-elaborate knot at his nape secured it with little chance of David’s being able to expel it (for a couple of hours at least).
I went to the sofa again, sat, examined my work, and took another photo. I judged that David was nowhere near a ‘grand discharge’ yet, and reached down to give his scrotum a quick scratch and his tip a good squeeze through his new — but now far from pristine — garment.
“Dirty boy,” I said, shaking my head with mock disapproval.
“Mmmmnh!” I didn’t really believe he was sorry, so there was only one thing to do. I stood, went round behind him, dragged him about a metre backwards, tipped him onto his face, and gave my naughty boy’s bottom a hefty whack. I thought I’d leave him like that for a while.
You know, for someone who practically begs to be tied up before sex, I’ve never understood why David won’t get a tongue piercing. He’s good enough in the blowjob stakes as it is, but I’m sure that a well-placed tongue stud would improve things even more. Oh well, better make do….
I sat on the chair, not too far back, and waited for my subbie to get started. Of course, I was quite prepared to help him, so I reached down and pulled the pranger towards my chair, grabbed David by the ears, and guided his mouth to my belt buckle. I had loosened it a little bit, but I really enjoy it when he fumbles around trying to grab the loop in his teeth. It really gives me time to get going as he finally finishes and has the end removed from the buckle. He always looks pleased with himself at that stage. I linked my fingers behind my nape and leaned back. David gripped the free end of the belt between those perfect teeth and pulled it free from the buckle’s prong. Every time his face came into the close proximity of my enlivened wand, I could actually feel it throbbing.
David looked up. I looked down and unfastened my waistband. I held the belt buckle to one side (anything to help a mate) and nodded towards the zipper. I saw no reason to hurry. David’s nuzzling around as he tried to grip the pull had exactly the effect I required, and I was just about ready for him to start by the time he had opened my fly completely and I had released the beast.
From his actions so far, it looked as if there was no real reason for me to hold onto his ears but, you know…. He looked at me, I looked at him, and then pulled him down onto what was necessarily the focus of his attentions for the next few minutes. He sucked, he licked, he pumped, and — let’s face it — I didn’t try too hard to stop his head from moving rhythmically. When I started that massive inhalation that always seems immediately to precede a satisfactory conclusion, I lifted my right foot over his left arm, over the wooden device that was securing my lover, and gently stroked the front of those over-extended briefs with my big toe. He hardly missed a stroke. He’s really good at his job: even when I had finally come to a climax, he kept his lips in place.
After a short pause, I heard an interrogative “Mmmm?”.
I let the pause continue while I relaxed and he continued to enclose my increasingly flaccid cock. “Okay,” I finally relented, “off you get.” David slid off me without opening his lips. I waited. He swallowed. He then set about gently licking my gradually relaxing member. “Good boy.” I scruffed his hair as if he were a small child. “Wanna drink?”
David smiled and nodded. I gave his dick just a few more strokes with my toe before standing. I didn’t think I would give him release (in any respect) yet. He didn’t expect it and, indeed, would have been disappointed if I had gone for it so soon. I kicked off my shoes, pulled down my trousers, kicked them off as well, and did my best to tuck myself back into my boxers. I then went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for David and a cold lager for myself. Upon returning, I placed the bottle and glass on the coffee table and approached my suspicious partner. (I wonder why he often looks so suspicious when I return from another room?) I lifted the wooden device, forcing David onto the small of his back, and turned him to face the sofa. He didn’t exactly seem surprised when I dragged him over to it. At least with that wooden floor he didn’t sustain any carpet burns. He had still managed to say nothing. He was doing well.
I sat, fed David the water gradually and without spilling too much, and then wiped his chin and (needlessly) his chest with my hand. I might just have given his nipples a little twist on the way past, of course. Still he had not spoken. I wondered if perhaps he wouldn’t want what I had in mind for him next.
David sat crouched in his wooden restraints and watched me as I took a few gulps from the bottle and then produced something from behind a cushion on the sofa. I thought I saw his shoulders slump. It’s difficult to tell when he is secured like, that but there was certainly a sigh. I’m still not sure how to interpret David’s sighs reliably, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask him.
I took the rope in my right hand and formed four loops round the fingers of my left one. Now David knew what I had in mind. Four additional loose loops at right angles round the originals, and four more at right angles woven between both sets, and the ‘monkey’s fist’ was starting to form in the middle of the rope. Now David was looking vaguely disappointed. The last time I had used that type of gag on him, he had said that, although the single rope strands dug demandingly enough into his lips, the knot didn’t fill his mouth very efficiently. But I had that covered this time…that ought to teach him!
I produced a fair-sized round avocado stone (yeah, yeah, I know…don’t say it!) from behind the cushion. Alright, that was a bit unusual, but I tried it with a squash ball while David wasn’t at home and it would have been too big. So, an avocado stone would have to do. He could always break his duck and ask me, “What the fuck…?” I inserted the avocado stone into the loose knot and gradually enclosed it snugly. Looked quite smart afterwards, and we both seemed to have become quite hard again.
“David?” I only ever use his name when he is in restraints to see that things are okay with him. He just looked at me. I stood up. I went round behind him and reached over his head. David opened his mouth, and I lodged the newly formed, and quite sizeable, gag behind his teeth. An over-elaborate knot at his nape secured it with little chance of David’s being able to expel it (for a couple of hours at least).
I went to the sofa again, sat, examined my work, and took another photo. I judged that David was nowhere near a ‘grand discharge’ yet, and reached down to give his scrotum a quick scratch and his tip a good squeeze through his new — but now far from pristine — garment.
“Dirty boy,” I said, shaking my head with mock disapproval.
“Mmmmnh!” I didn’t really believe he was sorry, so there was only one thing to do. I stood, went round behind him, dragged him about a metre backwards, tipped him onto his face, and gave my naughty boy’s bottom a hefty whack. I thought I’d leave him like that for a while.
You do not have the required permissions to view the files attached to this post.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
A WEEKEND COURSE
There’s always a price to pay for one’s pleasure, so I thought I would make a going-away supper while David enjoyed his predicament. You know, it’s amazing the number of kitchen implements that can be employed to give someone’s backside a casual paddling. When visiting him between culinary processes, I found uses for a wooden spatula (easy to apply a quick series of sharp flicks), a chopping board (probably wasn’t a good idea) and — possibly best — a small saucepan (no need to hit him hard, just a few really annoying thwaks to each of his neatly presented buttocks that served to sting a bit and give him something to think about).
Supper was soon ready, although probably too soon for David, but you should have seen his eyes widen when I walked in brandishing that stainless steel ladle. I set the ladle on the coffee table and made to free the sparkly-speedo-clad prisoner from his gift. He tried to object. What a good job I couldn’t understand him – honest! I hauled him onto his tenderised buttocks and undid the clamp holding the two parts of the stocks in place, while he transitioned from the initial squeak upon landing on his glutes to objecting to his release. I put it to him that, if he was to get away in time for the train, we needed to get an early, even if very short, ‘night’. For some reason, that seemed to win him round as I untied his gag.
We repaired to the kitchen for soup and pasta (and a hard chair for David — no, he did ask, but I wouldn’t let him stand) and some ‘adult’ ice cream. After a beer each, I declared that it was time for bed. We had a somewhat prolonged embrace and a bit of tongue-tangling (yes, that grab to his buttocks was intentional), before separating. I made my way upstairs while David collected a few ropes and other necessities for a relaxing nap. That was good; it gave me just about enough time to prepare just one further little surprise.
I had thought carefully how to go about the next operation if it were to work. I wasn’t sure that even my definitely masochistic but self-proclaimed submissive husband would go along with my latest idea. I’ll tell you what, though: I’m glad we’re such a lazy, decadent pair. I knew that the beer-fridge in the bedroom would eventually come in handy for something other than keeping the gin and lager cool.
I quickly prepared and was still removing what was left of my clothing as David arrived with some well-worked ropes and that health-food gag. Yes!! Score one! He liked it. He laid out his selected bedtime toys and dropped his now rather nasty new briefs in the laundry basket in the on-suite, then retrieved a jockstrap from his wardrobe — always his signal that he was open for (or hoping for!) business.
“Who said you were going to get a seeing to?”
“Well, I thought….”
“Not tonight, sunshine. No way.” As I’ve said before, David can get off purely on a good shafting, but I’d already had my servicing that night and I had other plans for him. Besides, he needed his rest, didn’t he?
David hung his head, but there are times when he remembers his place. Or did he have a suspicion that there might be more entertainments of a different sort in the offing? I still never know with him.
“Naughty boys don’t get sexy clothes to wear.” David returned the jockstrap neatly to his fitted wardrobe. Sometimes I think his tidiness borders on OCD. He cheered up a bit when I picked up one of his ancient ropes. At least he was going to be tied up before joining me in bed. To tell the truth, except when we’ve had guests, I can’t remember the last time when at least his hands weren’t bound when we retired, at least initially. He expects it, and I enjoy having a cuddle-toy who can’t resist my advances — not that he ever has.
As I said, I had just about enough time to prepare for what was to come, but I kept most of that hidden away, all except that padded rubber blindfold, which David picked up and slipped over his head before I could do so myself. It was a shame mot to be able to look into those hazel eyes, but I wouldn’t be very well positioned to do so in any case while I prepared my husband for his new experience.
The first of the pliable ropes was soon tied, reasonably comfortably (for me at least) in a sort of cross lashing round David’s wrists. He wasn’t going to be kept like that for long, so I was probably not as gentle as I would normally have been. I ignored the barely suppressed grunts as I checked the security of the lashing, surprised that David had not demanded to be gagged before then so that he could not object. Amazingly, he was doing his best to be a good boy. I thought that perhaps he was learning his place. Well, a man can hope.
His wrists would be comfortable enough, as long as he didn’t try moving them either up or down. I gave a short demonstration. He couldn’t quite suppress his reactions but, looking over his shoulder and down past his nicely displayed chest and abdomen, I could see that he wasn’t exactly dissatisfied with his predicament, so I just gave his staff and scrotum an encouraging squeeze or two. He nearly lost his composure then. I pulled myself up against his back, worked my hands slowly up his abdomen, giving his pubes a passing tug before reaching his prominent, and pleasingly hard, nipples. Upon attending to them, David was involuntarily vibrating pleasingly against me. I pushed him away from me before he could start any serious grinding, and gave his still-roseate buttocks a hefty slap each.
THEN he yelled! “Oh, come on, man. Aren’t you gonna gag me?”
“Nope. Get used to it. You don’t get to decide. Besides, you’ve got to get on a train soon, and I can’t see the rope marks fading if I tie that thing in tightly enough to do its job.”
That was certainly true, whereas the rather expensive blindfold would leave hardly any trace of its recent application, and what traces that were left would fade before we reached the station. David’s clothing would hide any rope marks round his wrists and ankles.
Those broad shoulders slumped somewhat and David nodded.
“Right, just to stop you from dropping your hands. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, would I?”
I’m sure I heard a grunt. I had tied David’s wrists, leaving enough rope to provide for two long strands dropping down to the floor. I lifted them and fed one end under each armpit, returning them both back over the opposite shoulders. I twined the ends and gave them a fairly robust yank. David knew that was coming and managed to control his vocal reaction, in spite of the fact that it must have hurt. By the time I had knotted the free ends behind his neck, David was able to drop his hands to where the rope would have not dug into his wrists in quite such a demanding manner.
Having rebuffed his previous attempt at grinding, I thought I ought to approach him, just to give him the idea that he might still be in line for that little workout that he desired with increasing urgency. Obviously we were both at full mast, and I held myself up against him. Do you know there are advantages to both of us being almost exactly the same height? I held him tight by the obvious handle and rubbed my shaft against his crack. Yup, worked a treat: he started writhing in the hope of things being taken further. I now had to make sure that he didn’t enjoy himself too much. His moanings were a pretty good guide and, as I pushed him away again, I briefly regretted not gagging him. He could pay for that epithet later.
“Oooah! Gag me naooow. PLEEEASE!” — ‘Gag me’? That was only the second thing I thought he’d ask for!
“Not going to happen. Not good for you. C’m‘ere.”
I wiped the meagre issue from our recent intimate encounter from his lower back with the side of my index finger (yes, I probably did linger around ‘there’ for a little longer than strictly necessary), then reached around him again and wiped my finger first in the ‘foliage’ surrounding the base of his impressive member, and from there all the way up his incredibly tense abdomen and chest and under his unshaven chin. He was trembling again. You know, fondling those muscles is always an incredible turn on. What a good job David spends most of our intimate time bound; he would certainly not get the same gratification from stroking my rather inadequate physique. Well, that’s my excuse, anyway.
Having cleaned up my increasingly desperate husband, I grabbed the knot behind his neck and guided him over to the bed. “Up!” I commanded. David bent over and swung himself round on the mattress. I thought I had better get to work before he could start trying to undo all my hard work so far. That knot behind his neck came in handy again, and David was soon kneeling rather unsteadily on our mattress. He managed to keep his expression of frustration to a mere prolonged exhalation from his nostrils. His bowsprit still stood out, proudly pointing the way ahead. I had more to do before addressing that situation.
David was sitting on his ankles. That could make the next process difficult. If I tipped him onto his belly, he would simply start trying to shag the mattress. So…I pulled him over onto his back and told him to pull his heels up to his bum and cross his ankles. Of course he did so, and I soon had his ankles crossed and tied simply with a shortish hemp rope that left me with just about enough free rope to finish the job I had in mind. It dug into my lover’s ankles as I tipped him onto his side. It wasn’t the added discomfort that occasioned the despairing groan, but rather the realisation of what was about to happen and the implications it had for his chances of being right royally screwed. Although, come to think of it….
I pulled the rope up between David’s bound wrists and back down to his ankles again, where I pulled it as tight as I thought I reasonably could. David was forced to arch his back, but at least I told him that he wouldn’t have to put up with the rope flossing his arse as long as he didn’t struggle too much. That earned me one of his twisted, wry expressions! Then I rolled him onto his back. He stifled an objection, and I dragged him towards the edge of the bed. He was now somewhat confused but still pointing determinedly skyward. I reckon he still had no idea what I had in mind, as I left him for a few seconds to collect his final surprise — ‘final’ for a few days at least.
TBC
There’s always a price to pay for one’s pleasure, so I thought I would make a going-away supper while David enjoyed his predicament. You know, it’s amazing the number of kitchen implements that can be employed to give someone’s backside a casual paddling. When visiting him between culinary processes, I found uses for a wooden spatula (easy to apply a quick series of sharp flicks), a chopping board (probably wasn’t a good idea) and — possibly best — a small saucepan (no need to hit him hard, just a few really annoying thwaks to each of his neatly presented buttocks that served to sting a bit and give him something to think about).
Supper was soon ready, although probably too soon for David, but you should have seen his eyes widen when I walked in brandishing that stainless steel ladle. I set the ladle on the coffee table and made to free the sparkly-speedo-clad prisoner from his gift. He tried to object. What a good job I couldn’t understand him – honest! I hauled him onto his tenderised buttocks and undid the clamp holding the two parts of the stocks in place, while he transitioned from the initial squeak upon landing on his glutes to objecting to his release. I put it to him that, if he was to get away in time for the train, we needed to get an early, even if very short, ‘night’. For some reason, that seemed to win him round as I untied his gag.
We repaired to the kitchen for soup and pasta (and a hard chair for David — no, he did ask, but I wouldn’t let him stand) and some ‘adult’ ice cream. After a beer each, I declared that it was time for bed. We had a somewhat prolonged embrace and a bit of tongue-tangling (yes, that grab to his buttocks was intentional), before separating. I made my way upstairs while David collected a few ropes and other necessities for a relaxing nap. That was good; it gave me just about enough time to prepare just one further little surprise.
I had thought carefully how to go about the next operation if it were to work. I wasn’t sure that even my definitely masochistic but self-proclaimed submissive husband would go along with my latest idea. I’ll tell you what, though: I’m glad we’re such a lazy, decadent pair. I knew that the beer-fridge in the bedroom would eventually come in handy for something other than keeping the gin and lager cool.
I quickly prepared and was still removing what was left of my clothing as David arrived with some well-worked ropes and that health-food gag. Yes!! Score one! He liked it. He laid out his selected bedtime toys and dropped his now rather nasty new briefs in the laundry basket in the on-suite, then retrieved a jockstrap from his wardrobe — always his signal that he was open for (or hoping for!) business.
“Who said you were going to get a seeing to?”
“Well, I thought….”
“Not tonight, sunshine. No way.” As I’ve said before, David can get off purely on a good shafting, but I’d already had my servicing that night and I had other plans for him. Besides, he needed his rest, didn’t he?
David hung his head, but there are times when he remembers his place. Or did he have a suspicion that there might be more entertainments of a different sort in the offing? I still never know with him.
“Naughty boys don’t get sexy clothes to wear.” David returned the jockstrap neatly to his fitted wardrobe. Sometimes I think his tidiness borders on OCD. He cheered up a bit when I picked up one of his ancient ropes. At least he was going to be tied up before joining me in bed. To tell the truth, except when we’ve had guests, I can’t remember the last time when at least his hands weren’t bound when we retired, at least initially. He expects it, and I enjoy having a cuddle-toy who can’t resist my advances — not that he ever has.
As I said, I had just about enough time to prepare for what was to come, but I kept most of that hidden away, all except that padded rubber blindfold, which David picked up and slipped over his head before I could do so myself. It was a shame mot to be able to look into those hazel eyes, but I wouldn’t be very well positioned to do so in any case while I prepared my husband for his new experience.
The first of the pliable ropes was soon tied, reasonably comfortably (for me at least) in a sort of cross lashing round David’s wrists. He wasn’t going to be kept like that for long, so I was probably not as gentle as I would normally have been. I ignored the barely suppressed grunts as I checked the security of the lashing, surprised that David had not demanded to be gagged before then so that he could not object. Amazingly, he was doing his best to be a good boy. I thought that perhaps he was learning his place. Well, a man can hope.
His wrists would be comfortable enough, as long as he didn’t try moving them either up or down. I gave a short demonstration. He couldn’t quite suppress his reactions but, looking over his shoulder and down past his nicely displayed chest and abdomen, I could see that he wasn’t exactly dissatisfied with his predicament, so I just gave his staff and scrotum an encouraging squeeze or two. He nearly lost his composure then. I pulled myself up against his back, worked my hands slowly up his abdomen, giving his pubes a passing tug before reaching his prominent, and pleasingly hard, nipples. Upon attending to them, David was involuntarily vibrating pleasingly against me. I pushed him away from me before he could start any serious grinding, and gave his still-roseate buttocks a hefty slap each.
THEN he yelled! “Oh, come on, man. Aren’t you gonna gag me?”
“Nope. Get used to it. You don’t get to decide. Besides, you’ve got to get on a train soon, and I can’t see the rope marks fading if I tie that thing in tightly enough to do its job.”
That was certainly true, whereas the rather expensive blindfold would leave hardly any trace of its recent application, and what traces that were left would fade before we reached the station. David’s clothing would hide any rope marks round his wrists and ankles.
Those broad shoulders slumped somewhat and David nodded.
“Right, just to stop you from dropping your hands. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, would I?”
I’m sure I heard a grunt. I had tied David’s wrists, leaving enough rope to provide for two long strands dropping down to the floor. I lifted them and fed one end under each armpit, returning them both back over the opposite shoulders. I twined the ends and gave them a fairly robust yank. David knew that was coming and managed to control his vocal reaction, in spite of the fact that it must have hurt. By the time I had knotted the free ends behind his neck, David was able to drop his hands to where the rope would have not dug into his wrists in quite such a demanding manner.
Having rebuffed his previous attempt at grinding, I thought I ought to approach him, just to give him the idea that he might still be in line for that little workout that he desired with increasing urgency. Obviously we were both at full mast, and I held myself up against him. Do you know there are advantages to both of us being almost exactly the same height? I held him tight by the obvious handle and rubbed my shaft against his crack. Yup, worked a treat: he started writhing in the hope of things being taken further. I now had to make sure that he didn’t enjoy himself too much. His moanings were a pretty good guide and, as I pushed him away again, I briefly regretted not gagging him. He could pay for that epithet later.
“Oooah! Gag me naooow. PLEEEASE!” — ‘Gag me’? That was only the second thing I thought he’d ask for!
“Not going to happen. Not good for you. C’m‘ere.”
I wiped the meagre issue from our recent intimate encounter from his lower back with the side of my index finger (yes, I probably did linger around ‘there’ for a little longer than strictly necessary), then reached around him again and wiped my finger first in the ‘foliage’ surrounding the base of his impressive member, and from there all the way up his incredibly tense abdomen and chest and under his unshaven chin. He was trembling again. You know, fondling those muscles is always an incredible turn on. What a good job David spends most of our intimate time bound; he would certainly not get the same gratification from stroking my rather inadequate physique. Well, that’s my excuse, anyway.
Having cleaned up my increasingly desperate husband, I grabbed the knot behind his neck and guided him over to the bed. “Up!” I commanded. David bent over and swung himself round on the mattress. I thought I had better get to work before he could start trying to undo all my hard work so far. That knot behind his neck came in handy again, and David was soon kneeling rather unsteadily on our mattress. He managed to keep his expression of frustration to a mere prolonged exhalation from his nostrils. His bowsprit still stood out, proudly pointing the way ahead. I had more to do before addressing that situation.
David was sitting on his ankles. That could make the next process difficult. If I tipped him onto his belly, he would simply start trying to shag the mattress. So…I pulled him over onto his back and told him to pull his heels up to his bum and cross his ankles. Of course he did so, and I soon had his ankles crossed and tied simply with a shortish hemp rope that left me with just about enough free rope to finish the job I had in mind. It dug into my lover’s ankles as I tipped him onto his side. It wasn’t the added discomfort that occasioned the despairing groan, but rather the realisation of what was about to happen and the implications it had for his chances of being right royally screwed. Although, come to think of it….
I pulled the rope up between David’s bound wrists and back down to his ankles again, where I pulled it as tight as I thought I reasonably could. David was forced to arch his back, but at least I told him that he wouldn’t have to put up with the rope flossing his arse as long as he didn’t struggle too much. That earned me one of his twisted, wry expressions! Then I rolled him onto his back. He stifled an objection, and I dragged him towards the edge of the bed. He was now somewhat confused but still pointing determinedly skyward. I reckon he still had no idea what I had in mind, as I left him for a few seconds to collect his final surprise — ‘final’ for a few days at least.
TBC
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
A WEEKEND COURSE
I had to sneak the first component of his surprise up on its recipient very carefully. What a good job he was blindfolded. He had hardly managed to work his way back further onto the bed by the time I had retrieved several still-connected cans of very cold lager from the beer fridge. I’ve never seen a man’s bits get sucked in as quickly as David’s were when I inserted them between the cans of Carlsberg’s finest.
Even with all his self-control, David could not resist calling me all sort of things of which his mother would certainly not have approved, although I think my dad might have agreed with him. Before he could take any reasonable evasive action, I had let the cans drop and had that spiked plastic ring snapped tightly round the base of his diminished shaft and his ball-sack. Now, that was a surprise! I could now take my time to complete my plan.
I thought I could spare a few seconds to stop the string of creative (but I thought quite hurtful) invective to which my helpless victim was treating me. Let’s face it, the poor guy probably couldn’t even feel the tightness of the retaining ring yet. I’m not as tidy as my bedmate, so it was a matter of some seconds before I’d retrieved my cast-off boxers, folded them, rolled them quite tightly, and shoved them where I thought they could do most good. David bit down, and I squeezed his nose and forced the now rather unsavoury CKs further home whilst pinning him under me. I clamped my hand over his mouth.
“Shuddup!” David seemed to be thinking about it. There followed a short pause. “Be a good boy?” David nodded. Just once. “Right. Hold on to my undies?” By now David had more-or-less recovered his equanimity and had managed to remember his place. Once more, my shocked muscle monster nodded. I knew he meant it. I thought an explanation was in order.
“Awrigh’, I just thought I’d give you something to remind you of me and make you miss me while you’re away.” Even with his mouth so comprehensively stuffed, David managed a sort of, “Nggg?”. Feeling must have been slowly returning to his tortured assets. That would be necessary; unless it had done so, the next process might have proved to be difficult. I slipped his dick into the silicone tube of that rather over-priced chastity device (it wasn’t even one of those with the little spikes inside), and pushed it up against his scrotum. Once I had located the holes in the collar onto the securing poles, I could see that it would be going nowhere. I was a bit suspicious about the advice to “Buy one size lower,” considering the size of David’s dick but, looking at the poor thing crammed in there, it seemed to have been good advice. I slipped one of those cute little brass padlocks into place and gave my work a little slap. Yes, I know he could get himself free if he really wanted to, but it would probably have required the use of a set of bolt-cutters or some sharp tool that he wouldn’t want to get too close to his little prisoner.
Right, that was his ‘present,’ finally in place. Now it was time to let him examine it. I slipped off his blindfold and shifted him further back onto the bed. I wouldn’t say that David is slow on the uptake, but the look on his face as he saw what I had actually done reeked not so much of shock but of unalloyed surprise. David forced my boxers from his mouth.
“Surprise!” I teased.
“F’ fuck’s sake!”
“Like it?”
“It’s fuckin’ pink!”
“Yeah, they print them specially. You know: 3-D printing.” (“Fucking pink”!?? Oh, that reaction was worth it!) “Well, no one will see it, will they?” I shall draw a veil over his next assertions. They certainly were not fit for delicate ears. His vocalisations gradually moderated, until we were both giggling like little girlies. “They say it’s undetectable under normal clothing,” I finally added.
“It had better fucking be.”
“You’ll be alright, as long as you take a couple of very supportive jockstraps — and those over-sized jeans of yours, Big Boy. I know, what about that padded dance belt you used to wear to impress guys when you went clubbing before we got together? Go on, Gay-Boy, you know you want to.”
“Fuuuck orrf!”
“Now, now. Don’t be ungrateful. Just a helpful suggestion.”
“How the hell do I —"
“Oh, they’ve thought all about that,” I interrupted. “There’s a wide slit in the end. Feel?” I hadn’t thought about that before, but with his helmet forced right up against the end of the device, I could just about rub his slit with my little finger. That surprised him.
“You bastard.” That response was made almost admiringly, and was totally devoid of malice.
“Yup, but you love me, though.” It hadn’t taken David as long as I had feared it might to accept his fate but, let’s face it, he’d been working hard to be a good submissive ever since I’ve known him. He’s always found it to be worth it in the end.
I was tempted to release his hogtie and give him a shafting then and there but, if the game’s worth the candle….
“Okay, darlin’? Time for a little lie-down? We got about an hour before you need to get ready.” You know what they say about a nod being as good as a wink to a blind horse? Well, David still seemed to think he was going to get his way, but I really don’t think he understood what would happen when he got aroused — yet!
By now, Willie must have returned to normal temperature, but it was difficult to tell simply by clapping my hand on the tiny pink prison.
“No gag, then?”
“Good try,” I replied. I rolled him onto his side (as I said earlier, his ankles were tied very simply and it wouldn’t have hurt him too much), and positioned him more centrally on the bed. He was obviously about to find out what effect the silicone sheath was going to have when he got happy. I climbed round behind him, hugged him tightly, and tangled legs with him. I wondered how long he would last before begging for release, but he was obviously determined not to give me the satisfaction, so I set to work.
It wasn’t the first time that I had enjoyed not only the manly smell of my lover but also the feel of coarse rope against my most sensitive part as I frotted against him. Well, I was enjoying myself; I didn’t ask David how he was doing. Christ, not being gagged must have been difficult for him. He could not simply beg, confident in the knowledge that I could pretend not to understand him. He just had to try to keep quiet. Perhaps I’ll buy him a nice new real gag when he comes home again.
I worked my hands down to his short-and-curlies, and played around there as he wriggled desperately. Like I said, I was enjoying myself. I thought I could ignore the grunting and wheezing just as long as he managed not to say anything. Christ, he was determined. Eventually we settled into a comfortable embrace and indulged in normal pillow talk until it was time for David to get ready to go. He had already packed, so all that was left was for me to untie him and for him to shower.
Well, not quite in that order, of course….
I manoeuvred David so that we were face to face, forced my legs between his, and wriggled until we were what should have been dick-to-dick. Ah, that smell as a man shows an interest in life! I started kissing him deeply, an action that he reciprocated enthusiastically. I must say, though, that frottage with a silicone chastity device is nowhere near as good as it is with the contents. Oh well, time to get up.
I disentangled myself and, now that it was safe to do so, rolled David onto his belly. The coarse rope connecting his ankles and his wrists was soon dispensed with, and his ankles were freed once more. I gave his arse a couple of sharp smacks.
“Okay, dirty boy, on your feet. Into that shower.”
David didn’t need telling twice. Some time ago I suggested that we install a larger, more luxurious shower. David forgot his place and demanded that we retain the current, more intimate installation. Needless to say, he was right, damn him.
“Good boy, let me just do this for you.”
“Mnnnnggh!” Remember, David wasn’t gagged, and so this was an expression of pure pleasure. At least it usually was, but previously it had always presaged mutual explosions of satisfaction. This time, only one of us was likely to experience such a thing.
Oh, I enjoyed soaping that body down, even those cute feet (you know what they say — big hands and big feet....) and those muscular legs, and especially that accommodating crack. I shampooed his hair and assiduously soaped as much of his arms as I could. David had got used to my shaving him in the shower, but by now he must have been hurting a lot ‘down there’. Ask me if I cared. Of course I did, but he must have been enjoying it in his own way. He certainly didn’t ask me to stop.
All good things must come to an end, and I rinsed him off and turned off the shower. We stepped out and I untied my heavily breathing lover. First, I massaged his rutted wrists ,and then I took that huge, rough, white towel and dried him thoroughly. It wasn’t quite as much fun as usual drying one of his more detailed features but, as I’ve said, there is a price to be paid….
Following a further intimate embrace, it was time for all good things to come to an end, and David went to his wardrobe, dressed himself, and added a couple of underwear items to his packing that he had not previously expected to need to take. Having enjoyed watching David’s enrobing (and his forced extra packing). I dressed as well and collected my car keys.
Our journey to the station was unusually devoid of conversation, even though I had allowed David not to travel in the boot. (Yes, he does often have to do that; it depends what we’re going to do when we reach our destination.) We arrived at the station, kissed, and I clapped my hand on where his completely restricted penis was probably straining for release. He gave me another one of his looks. We left the car more or less silently. We just hadn’t been used to parting for more than a day since we were married. Needless to say, I accompanied my departing cuddle-bunny to the platform, kissed him goodbye (let ’em stare!) and watched the train until it was out of sight. The next few days were going to be very empty. Or were they…?
We hadn’t got round to decorating the cellar since we’d moved in. With my DIY talents, I decided to set about the task. It might have kept my mind off my absent lover but, let’s face it, it didn’t — not all the while I was working on that special project. Come on, I’ll show you his anniversary present.
I had to sneak the first component of his surprise up on its recipient very carefully. What a good job he was blindfolded. He had hardly managed to work his way back further onto the bed by the time I had retrieved several still-connected cans of very cold lager from the beer fridge. I’ve never seen a man’s bits get sucked in as quickly as David’s were when I inserted them between the cans of Carlsberg’s finest.
Even with all his self-control, David could not resist calling me all sort of things of which his mother would certainly not have approved, although I think my dad might have agreed with him. Before he could take any reasonable evasive action, I had let the cans drop and had that spiked plastic ring snapped tightly round the base of his diminished shaft and his ball-sack. Now, that was a surprise! I could now take my time to complete my plan.
I thought I could spare a few seconds to stop the string of creative (but I thought quite hurtful) invective to which my helpless victim was treating me. Let’s face it, the poor guy probably couldn’t even feel the tightness of the retaining ring yet. I’m not as tidy as my bedmate, so it was a matter of some seconds before I’d retrieved my cast-off boxers, folded them, rolled them quite tightly, and shoved them where I thought they could do most good. David bit down, and I squeezed his nose and forced the now rather unsavoury CKs further home whilst pinning him under me. I clamped my hand over his mouth.
“Shuddup!” David seemed to be thinking about it. There followed a short pause. “Be a good boy?” David nodded. Just once. “Right. Hold on to my undies?” By now David had more-or-less recovered his equanimity and had managed to remember his place. Once more, my shocked muscle monster nodded. I knew he meant it. I thought an explanation was in order.
“Awrigh’, I just thought I’d give you something to remind you of me and make you miss me while you’re away.” Even with his mouth so comprehensively stuffed, David managed a sort of, “Nggg?”. Feeling must have been slowly returning to his tortured assets. That would be necessary; unless it had done so, the next process might have proved to be difficult. I slipped his dick into the silicone tube of that rather over-priced chastity device (it wasn’t even one of those with the little spikes inside), and pushed it up against his scrotum. Once I had located the holes in the collar onto the securing poles, I could see that it would be going nowhere. I was a bit suspicious about the advice to “Buy one size lower,” considering the size of David’s dick but, looking at the poor thing crammed in there, it seemed to have been good advice. I slipped one of those cute little brass padlocks into place and gave my work a little slap. Yes, I know he could get himself free if he really wanted to, but it would probably have required the use of a set of bolt-cutters or some sharp tool that he wouldn’t want to get too close to his little prisoner.
Right, that was his ‘present,’ finally in place. Now it was time to let him examine it. I slipped off his blindfold and shifted him further back onto the bed. I wouldn’t say that David is slow on the uptake, but the look on his face as he saw what I had actually done reeked not so much of shock but of unalloyed surprise. David forced my boxers from his mouth.
“Surprise!” I teased.
“F’ fuck’s sake!”
“Like it?”
“It’s fuckin’ pink!”
“Yeah, they print them specially. You know: 3-D printing.” (“Fucking pink”!?? Oh, that reaction was worth it!) “Well, no one will see it, will they?” I shall draw a veil over his next assertions. They certainly were not fit for delicate ears. His vocalisations gradually moderated, until we were both giggling like little girlies. “They say it’s undetectable under normal clothing,” I finally added.
“It had better fucking be.”
“You’ll be alright, as long as you take a couple of very supportive jockstraps — and those over-sized jeans of yours, Big Boy. I know, what about that padded dance belt you used to wear to impress guys when you went clubbing before we got together? Go on, Gay-Boy, you know you want to.”
“Fuuuck orrf!”
“Now, now. Don’t be ungrateful. Just a helpful suggestion.”
“How the hell do I —"
“Oh, they’ve thought all about that,” I interrupted. “There’s a wide slit in the end. Feel?” I hadn’t thought about that before, but with his helmet forced right up against the end of the device, I could just about rub his slit with my little finger. That surprised him.
“You bastard.” That response was made almost admiringly, and was totally devoid of malice.
“Yup, but you love me, though.” It hadn’t taken David as long as I had feared it might to accept his fate but, let’s face it, he’d been working hard to be a good submissive ever since I’ve known him. He’s always found it to be worth it in the end.
I was tempted to release his hogtie and give him a shafting then and there but, if the game’s worth the candle….
“Okay, darlin’? Time for a little lie-down? We got about an hour before you need to get ready.” You know what they say about a nod being as good as a wink to a blind horse? Well, David still seemed to think he was going to get his way, but I really don’t think he understood what would happen when he got aroused — yet!
By now, Willie must have returned to normal temperature, but it was difficult to tell simply by clapping my hand on the tiny pink prison.
“No gag, then?”
“Good try,” I replied. I rolled him onto his side (as I said earlier, his ankles were tied very simply and it wouldn’t have hurt him too much), and positioned him more centrally on the bed. He was obviously about to find out what effect the silicone sheath was going to have when he got happy. I climbed round behind him, hugged him tightly, and tangled legs with him. I wondered how long he would last before begging for release, but he was obviously determined not to give me the satisfaction, so I set to work.
It wasn’t the first time that I had enjoyed not only the manly smell of my lover but also the feel of coarse rope against my most sensitive part as I frotted against him. Well, I was enjoying myself; I didn’t ask David how he was doing. Christ, not being gagged must have been difficult for him. He could not simply beg, confident in the knowledge that I could pretend not to understand him. He just had to try to keep quiet. Perhaps I’ll buy him a nice new real gag when he comes home again.
I worked my hands down to his short-and-curlies, and played around there as he wriggled desperately. Like I said, I was enjoying myself. I thought I could ignore the grunting and wheezing just as long as he managed not to say anything. Christ, he was determined. Eventually we settled into a comfortable embrace and indulged in normal pillow talk until it was time for David to get ready to go. He had already packed, so all that was left was for me to untie him and for him to shower.
Well, not quite in that order, of course….
I manoeuvred David so that we were face to face, forced my legs between his, and wriggled until we were what should have been dick-to-dick. Ah, that smell as a man shows an interest in life! I started kissing him deeply, an action that he reciprocated enthusiastically. I must say, though, that frottage with a silicone chastity device is nowhere near as good as it is with the contents. Oh well, time to get up.
I disentangled myself and, now that it was safe to do so, rolled David onto his belly. The coarse rope connecting his ankles and his wrists was soon dispensed with, and his ankles were freed once more. I gave his arse a couple of sharp smacks.
“Okay, dirty boy, on your feet. Into that shower.”
David didn’t need telling twice. Some time ago I suggested that we install a larger, more luxurious shower. David forgot his place and demanded that we retain the current, more intimate installation. Needless to say, he was right, damn him.
“Good boy, let me just do this for you.”
“Mnnnnggh!” Remember, David wasn’t gagged, and so this was an expression of pure pleasure. At least it usually was, but previously it had always presaged mutual explosions of satisfaction. This time, only one of us was likely to experience such a thing.
Oh, I enjoyed soaping that body down, even those cute feet (you know what they say — big hands and big feet....) and those muscular legs, and especially that accommodating crack. I shampooed his hair and assiduously soaped as much of his arms as I could. David had got used to my shaving him in the shower, but by now he must have been hurting a lot ‘down there’. Ask me if I cared. Of course I did, but he must have been enjoying it in his own way. He certainly didn’t ask me to stop.
All good things must come to an end, and I rinsed him off and turned off the shower. We stepped out and I untied my heavily breathing lover. First, I massaged his rutted wrists ,and then I took that huge, rough, white towel and dried him thoroughly. It wasn’t quite as much fun as usual drying one of his more detailed features but, as I’ve said, there is a price to be paid….
Following a further intimate embrace, it was time for all good things to come to an end, and David went to his wardrobe, dressed himself, and added a couple of underwear items to his packing that he had not previously expected to need to take. Having enjoyed watching David’s enrobing (and his forced extra packing). I dressed as well and collected my car keys.
Our journey to the station was unusually devoid of conversation, even though I had allowed David not to travel in the boot. (Yes, he does often have to do that; it depends what we’re going to do when we reach our destination.) We arrived at the station, kissed, and I clapped my hand on where his completely restricted penis was probably straining for release. He gave me another one of his looks. We left the car more or less silently. We just hadn’t been used to parting for more than a day since we were married. Needless to say, I accompanied my departing cuddle-bunny to the platform, kissed him goodbye (let ’em stare!) and watched the train until it was out of sight. The next few days were going to be very empty. Or were they…?
We hadn’t got round to decorating the cellar since we’d moved in. With my DIY talents, I decided to set about the task. It might have kept my mind off my absent lover but, let’s face it, it didn’t — not all the while I was working on that special project. Come on, I’ll show you his anniversary present.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
So . . .
. . . Do you think he'll like it?
. . . Do you think he'll like it?
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They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
That's it!
The last photograph belongs to Skateboymaster.
The last photograph belongs to Skateboymaster.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
-
blackbound
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 1090
- Joined: 5 years ago
Nice ending! I recently actually 3d printed a chastity device at home, and have been having a lot of fun with it.
I hope it's a fetching colour.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
-
blackbound
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 1090
- Joined: 5 years ago
I only had black 
-
Pup Wingletang
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 836
- Joined: 3 years ago
- Location: Devon, UK
What another great chapter in the life of David and his husband. I find I'm really able to identify with this story. It probably helps that I share a name with one of the characters (guess which one!) and I'm writing this from a hotel in London with similar steps having been taken by my husband to keep me out of trouble. He's also pretty good on the DIY front - I've received similar presents and we definitely have designs on one of the rooms in our current renovation project.
I really enjoy reading stories that explore this sort of consensual bondage lifestyle. You've created two characters that clealy love and understand each other deeply and have a great power dynamic at the heart of their relationship. I love how it's all just part of their normal routine.
[mention]Xtc[/mention] Great writing. I particularly enjoy the various humorous aside. At times there's almost a conversational feel to the narration. A nice level of detail and description. You really feel that these two characters could exist and live happily together. Some great pictures as well. Thanks for sharing a slice of their life with us.
I really enjoy reading stories that explore this sort of consensual bondage lifestyle. You've created two characters that clealy love and understand each other deeply and have a great power dynamic at the heart of their relationship. I love how it's all just part of their normal routine.
[mention]Xtc[/mention] Great writing. I particularly enjoy the various humorous aside. At times there's almost a conversational feel to the narration. A nice level of detail and description. You really feel that these two characters could exist and live happily together. Some great pictures as well. Thanks for sharing a slice of their life with us.
A pup is for life but especially for bondage so get out the sleepsack and muzzle.
Don't miss out on the final chapter of Lovingly Zipped Up (M/M)
All my M/M stories can be found HERE.
Don't miss out on the final chapter of Lovingly Zipped Up (M/M)
All my M/M stories can be found HERE.
Thank you for taking the time to write this lengthy appreciation [mention]Pup Wingletang[/mention] , It gave me a surprise lift when I needed one.
There is at least one more tale to tell but I don't want to force it and loose what I hope is an easy-going atmosphere.
There is at least one more tale to tell but I don't want to force it and loose what I hope is an easy-going atmosphere.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
-
MountainMan_91
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 346
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: Botswana
Hey.
This was so good. The style of writing and easy storytelling is something to aspire to!!
Good Job
I missed it when it was originally posted but glad I found it today!!
This was so good. The style of writing and easy storytelling is something to aspire to!!
Good Job
I missed it when it was originally posted but glad I found it today!!
Learning new things each day...
A list of my work...
I'm glad you caught up with it and thank you for the comment.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.