|by Max Roper|
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|© Copyright 2016 - Max Roper - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: Sbm; rope; gag; discovery; F/m; bond; pictures; tease; denial; mast; climax; cons; X||
|Back Again Max Roper Sbm; rope; gag; discovery; F/m; bond; pictures; tease; denial; mast; climax; cons; X|
I’d been out to see him several times in the past. I’d also sneaked around at night, peeking in at him. So I knew what he did.
When I heard his old truck grinding up the road again I decided to have some more fun with him.
I waited until his second night, then walked down to his property. It was almost dark when I arrived and I could see the flicker of candlelight from within his trailer. I moved in slowly and was disappointed to see he’d drawn the curtains. But maybe not all of them. I went around to the back side and sure enough, there he was, kneeling on the floor in a circle of candles and mirrors, wearing jockey shorts, a tee shirt, and socks, bound and gagged by his own hand.
I don’t think I’ll ever understand what would make a man do that to himself, but I doubt he understands it either. Whatever the reasons, I’m somehow drawn to him and think I probably enjoy our games at least as much as he does.
I went up the steps and tried the door. Unlocked. He’ll never learn. Or maybe he was hoping for me. I’d like to think that was it.
Anyway, I got through the door before he came back from wherever he goes. He looked up at me and smiled around his gag. I smiled back, squatting down behind him, doing a few things to the rope around his wrists, making it impossible for him to wriggle out like he did when he was alone.
I’d worn a dress this time so it was just a matter of sliding up close, wrapping my arms around him, and letting his fingers find their way.
I’d occasionally give his semi-erect cock a few strokes, just to keep him in the game. But this was for me. I let him send me to the stars a few times. Okay, I helped a little. I know where my buttons are better than any man ever born. But he certainly helped. Actually, it was probably the idea of having a bound man at my disposal more than his actual ministrations, but I digress. Whatever the reason, we got me off.
Now it’s his turn. He doesn’t particularly want an instant orgasm. As I understand it, he doesn’t really care if there’s an ejaculation at the end or not. He just likes the ride. He gave me a good one so I decided to give as good as I got.
“So tell me,” I said, the first words either of us had spoken since my arrival. “If I was to do you any way you wanted, what would that be?”
He smiled. “Mmmf,” he said.
“Oh, right. I always seem to forget that.” I undid his gag.
“Thanks. Okay, if you were to give me exactly what I wanted, what would that be?”
“Well that’s easy,” he said. “You’d come in here when I was in self-bondage, make it so I couldn’t escape, than make me service you until you were completely satisfied. Then, maybe you’d tie me up again in a different position and make me do you again. Something like that.”
I smiled. “Seems like we did the first part just the way you like.”
“So now it would perhaps be time for me to tie you up differently and make you do me again, yes?”
He nodded happily and opened wide so I could put the gag back in. I left him in his current position while I looked at his laptop, helpfully opened to a file of photos of attractive men and women bound up in various poses. I have no interest whatsoever in allowing him to tie me up. Even so, there were enough ideas there to keep us busy for a long time.
It seems he likes kneeling poses, so I picked one out of his collection and set about tying him up like the lady in the picture.
It became rather obvious that I wasn’t going to get his elbows anywhere close to touching, but otherwise I did a fair facsimile of the model. I found his Nikon and shot a few pictures of him, trying to duplicate the angle of the picture of the bound woman.
I again allowed myself to be manipulated by his bound hands. You’d think I’d get tired of it, but not yet!
Then, one more tie-up for my host. For this one I used up every rope I could find in his bag and around the property. There’s a long piece of 3/4” hemp he apparently uses to hold down loads in his truck and I even added that at the end. You couldn’t see much skin when I was done.
It took almost an hour to wrap him up and I didn’t see any reason to just snap a photo or two and let him go, so I gagged him tightly to avoid interruptions, made myself a sandwich and helped myself to a wee dram of his whisky, playing with myself while watching him squirm.
I bet that big old piece of hemp was pretty abrasive! After a while I tossed his safety shears into the corner and moseyed on home, his muffled entreaties to stay fading as I closed the door behind me.
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