This is a work of fiction. It includes scenes of BDSM sex play between teens. No resemblance to persons living or dead is intended. If you are underage, or if possession of this text is illegal in your area, leave now. Some of the activities described in this story may cause injury or transmit diseases, including HIV. Please play safe--I don't want to lose any fans!
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KYLE CARRIES ON
Kyle is a stud! Ever since Susie Dresser dropped him, girls have been throwing themselves at him, and I think I may be responsible. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Let me back up, a little. Kyle is straight. He's really straight! He's such a real man that he can take a whipping (literally) and getting butt-fucked (literally). And more.
It all started when I talked him into posing for some dirty pictures where he was tied up and I whipped him. Turned out, he likes it--endorphins, conquering the pain, or something like that. As for the butt- fucking, well, all I can say is that apparently, a lot of guys have really sensitive asses--"erogenous zones," they call them in our Sex Ed class.
I've been friends with Kyle since third grade, and I figured out I loved him about the time we were in sixth grade. I really don't know if he loves me--or at least if he knows he loves me. He dates girls (and I'm pretty sure he more than dates some of them) but I'm the guy he comes home to. Well, not exactly home--his house is about three blocks from mine. And he has this garage. It's pretty roomy, when his family car is gone, and Kyle's set himself up a sort of work-out space, with his weight bench, and a pull- up bar hanging from some chains and a few other goodies. And he gets these urges.
As it happens, his dad is in this bowling league that meets Tuesday nights, so the garage is available after supper. (His mom does this scrapbooking thing. She's really good at it. She even has a sort of studio set up in their guest bedroom.) So Kyle usually gets his urges on Tuesday nights. I walk into the garage, and he's usually in his gym shorts and a tank top and already sweaty from his workout.
"Ready?" I say.
Kyle growls "I can take anything you can hand out!" or something like that, and I snap the garage door lock shut and walk up to him real slow and tell him to strip, which he does, while we both try not to smile at each other, or anything like that.
We usually start with a whipping. I found these leather cuffs with a cushion-y lining for his wrists and ankles, so I can hook his arms to the chains that hold up the pull-up bar. And he stands on this piece of plywood with rings mounted on it to hold his legs apart. Back when we were making dirty pictures, I used my belt to whip him, but lately we've been experimenting. He found this flogger at a store that sells Halloween costumes and stuff, and I've been learning how to flog him. And we bought a riding crop. That thing hurts, so we don't start with it.
I'm not sure where Kyle got the idea of tying a weight to his nuts. We use a piece of soft cotton rope and fishing weights--he's almost up to a pound. At first, I hung the weights on him after his whipping, but lately, I've been hanging them on him before the whipping.
Sometimes, I worry that I'm hurting him too much, so we made an agreement. If he wants me to stop, he's supposed to yell "cashmere sweater," I think because his first girlfriend wore them a lot. And "cashmere sweater" isn't something you're likely to say when someone's whipping you. What Kyle usually yells is "Yes!" or "Yeah," or "Do it," or "Fuck!" When he starts swearing I know he's getting into it.
The next thing we usually do, after the whipping, is play with his butt. Sometimes, he lies on his back on the weight bench, with his wrists tied to the end of the bench and his ankles tied to the barbell supports, and sometimes he stands at the end of the bench and bends over the barbell, with his hands tied to the far end of the bench. We pretend like I'm just going to whip him, but I get evil and start messing with his asshole. I can use dildos, or put a butt plug in. (The on-line sex toy people think I'm eighteen.)
Sometimes, I put the butt plug in and then use the riding crop on him, and he calls me a pervert and I punish him for that.
The thing is, he is so fucking hot when we do this, that it's all I can do to keep from cumming. So he's constantly trying to get me so hot I'll fuck his ass. Then, he figures he's won, or something. On the other hand, I'm always trying to get him to cum. Then I win.
Sometimes, usually on a Wednesday or Thursday, I worry that his current girlfriend will use a dildo on him, or something, and he'll leave me. It's ... I just know Kyle loves me. He has this way of looking at me, every now and then, that proves it. He just doesn't know he loves me. All this would be so much easier if I had buddies to talk to about it all, like girls do. But you can imagine what would happen if I started talking to anyone at school about this?
Anyhow, this summer I had this idea: there's one of those Medieval Village fairs about an hour from here, and I happen to know that there's this medieval torture chamber you can tour for an extra five bucks. I doubt there's many high school girls with torture chambers. So I took Kyle to the fair, and we watched jousting and ate "medieval" food and played some games. All the while, I kept him away from the torture chamber thing until--Surprise! "Hey! Kyle! Look! Want to do it? I have enough money!"
So we did it. They put people in small groups, like five or six, and they have these tour guides dressed up as dungeon-keepers with leather aprons and big leather straps across their bodies. Some of them are pretty hunky guys -- Kyle would look great in a costume like that! Ours was a little on the skinny side, but he was taller than us, so that helped. It all looked pretty damn real, except I'm pretty sure that a lot of the shackles and stuff were foam plastic, like the Halloween things. They had mannikins set up as victims, discretely covered in rags, of course. The guide explained how each machine worked, and the kinds of things they did to their victims, and how the job of a medieval torturer was like a real job, with apprentices and all. They were usually supposed to get information or confessions from people, not just torture them. He said some of the torture machines were among the most sophisticated machines around, even, back then.
It was pretty intense, and worth the five bucks. I kept one eye on Kyle, and he was almost drooling, I swear. It was kind of gloomy in the torture chamber, so you couldn't really see the bulge in his crotch unless you knew exactly where to look. And I'm pretty sure he wasn't the only one reacting that way. He couldn't stop talking about it on the way home, about how strong you'd have to be to hold up to torture like that, and how you had to be "a real man" to be in a joust and fall off a horse in a suit of armor, on and on.
"Yeah," I said. "No wonder those medieval princesses and all were after knights all the time. They must have been like pro football players and them."
"More, even -- they didn't have refs!" We both laughed, imagining football referees in torture chambers, with whistles and time-outs and stuff. "Delay of pain?" Kyle said, which I thought was a pretty good pun.
Kyle wanted a rack. We tried laying him on the weight bench with his feet tied to a hook in the wall and me pulling his arms, but I wasn't strong enough for him. Besides, he said the weight bench "wasn't right." It took a while to figure it out, but what he wanted was a workbench, maybe -- wood, and longer and wider than the weight bench. Not two weeks later, he'd found a couple of two-by-eights in the alley. They weren't in very good shape, but we cleaned them up and nailed them together and tied them to the weight bench. I got some pulleys to "multiply the force," like they said in Science class, and all of a sudden I was strong enough to pull Kyle really tight. That was the first time he said "cashmere sweater." He said it was getting hard to breathe!
So there he was, naked and stretched out helpless, almost like the mannikin at the Medieval Fair. And he had a stiffer! His cock was pointed straight up toward the roof. I slapped it, and it sprang right back to attention. I almost came, right there. I walked around him slowly, stepping over the ropes tied to his arms and legs, and watched him watching me, wondering what I was going to do. So was I, actually. Then I saw the riding crop. I went and got it and walked back slowly, holding it up so he could see it.
"Shit!" he said.
I tapped him. I tapped him all over his body, like little slaps, just enough to make his skin get a little red.
"I'll never tell!" he said, suddenly. I stopped in mid-tap, confused.
"I'll never tell where the treasure is!"
Aha! "Yes, you will! You'll never stand up to my torture!"
"Do your worst! I'll never talk!!"
"Really?" I laughed. I tapped harder. He gasped, mostly from surprise, I think. I kept tapping. Every once in a while, I hit a sensitive spot, like on his side, and he'd hiss "Fuck!" But I didn't want to break skin, or anything, so I didn't want to hit him too hard. Then, I got a fiendish idea, if I say so myself. I tossed the riding crop aside, and started tickling him. He was already having trouble breathing, so it didn't take long before he was desperate for air.
"Where's the treasure?"
"I'll never tell!"
Tickle, tickle, "Where's the treasure?"
"I'll never tell!"
We went on like that for a while, until I got bored. Then, I got the flogger and went to work on his chest and belly. Again, not too hard: I wanted the pain to sort of build up. I wish I could tell you how beautiful he looked! His cock would sway around when I hit him, but when I stopped, it went right back to straight up. After a while, I could tell that he was starting to wear out, so I walked up to his head and bent over with my ass above his face. "Kiss my ass and I'll loosen you!" He didn't, so I dragged the flogger across his chest. I was going to try to strike him, even though the position was awkward, when I felt his lips on my butt. Yeah!
Fair's fair. I loosened him and told him to roll over. While he did, I pulled his cock and balls down between his legs. I made the necessary adjustments to the ropes and pulled him tight again, but not so tight as before. Then I went after his back and ass with the belt.
"Please, man! I gotta cum! Please!"
"Not quite yet!" I thought about going on with the treasure bit, but it didn't feel right. I sat on his back and released his hands, then tied them behind his back and released his legs. "Stand up and bend over! Brace yourself on the rack! I'm going to fuck the shit out of you!"
"Please fuck me!" Kyle gasped.
For a moment, I was stunned: he was asking for it! I grabbed the grease and plunged in. It almost felt like he was pulling my cock into his hole! I grabbed his hips and started pumping away.
"Oh, fuck!" he said. "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Ohmygod FUCK!" I was mashed against his rock-hard butt. My fingers were digging into his hips and I was staring at the roof and I realized I was yelling, and Kyle was jerking underneath me and I could tell he was cumming, hands-free!
It took a while for us to come back to Earth, while I lay on his back and he sort of poked at my chest with the ends of his fingers. I pressed my face against the side of his neck and whispered, "You are a fucking magnificent man, Kyle." He chuckled and murmured, "You ain't half bad yourself, buddy."
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