Foundry Street was a row of tired old terraces, their bricks blackened by the ghosts of dead factories, and their inhabitants dull people with boring jobs. The few tiny front gardens that weren't completely overgrown by nettles, were cracked concrete graveyards for faded plastic toys.
Number 8 was a little tidier than most - Alex liked to keep it presentable when he was in the mood. Lately, that hadn't been as often as usual because since the new neighbour had moved in, he'd spent a great deal of his time spying on him.
The new arrival's name was Brett. He was a biker, and he had a mohican – both of which bordered on the scandalous for Foundry Street. They had only spoken once so far, when he'd seen him cleaning his motorbike in the back yard. Alex didn't know anything about bikes, but it was very shiny, very black, and had purple bits, so it must be big and powerful.
Alex had been in his own yard, constructing a bomb. This involved a large number of match heads and some tinfoil – he'd made one years ago and it had gone off with a satisfying bang, scaring the cat from number 14 (which was always a good thing). But he thought he could do better. This time, however, he'd been interrupted by the sound of someone whistling to himself. Peering through a gap in the tatty hedge he'd seen a guy in black leathers, polishing a motorbike. He'd stared, fascinated. When he'd moved slightly to get a better view, a bit of crunchy gravel had given him away.
"Hello there!" The biker had looked up, surprised. He'd smiled, introduced himself, and said that he'd just moved into number 10, and that he hoped they'd become friends. Alex didn't know which to stare at first – the muscles stretching the tight, shiny leather bike suit, or his short blond mohican.
That had been a week ago. Alex had been keeping an eye on both the front and back of the house whenever he could, hoping to spot him again. Very little happened in Foundry Street, and so a new neighbour was interesting – especially one as unusual as Brett.
Like all 17-year olds, Alex was permanently horny, and almost anything made him need to wank. He wasn't especially interested in bikers – or leather, as far as he knew – but for some reason he'd found the sight of Brett strangely fascinating.
He was putting the rubbish into the wheelie bin when he heard the back door open. Keeping lower this time so that he wouldn't be seen, he peered through the hedge. It was Brett, in his leathers again. Alex watched as the guy slid an empty metal tray under the bike and did something with a spanner at the bottom of the engine; The machine was facing towards Alex, its twin headlights staring at him accusingly. Brett was crouched down at the side of it, so Alex had a good view of him. In that skintight, shiny leather bike suit, he reminded the boy of some kind of fit superhero. Without thinking about it, Alex pulled his cock out of the leg of his shorts and started to wank, his eyes never leaving the biker.
After he'd cum he tidied himself up, and then tiptoed back into the house.
His mother had gone off years ago with an appliance salesman from Basingstoke and his father was out at work most of the day, so Alex did the cooking and had generally learned to look after himself. He had a part-time job, but that was only on two mornings a week, so he spent most of his time alone in the house playing computer games.
It was a couple of days later when he next saw Brett. Alex was returning from the shop at the end of the street with a loaf of bread and a bag of onions. Brett had just come out of his house and was locking the front door.
He smiled when he saw the boy. "Hi Alex. Been meaning to invite you round for coffee sometime. Say hello properly."
"Oh, right. Thanks. That'd be great."
"I'll be back in an hour or so. You free then?"
"Erm – yeah."
"OK. Do you like doughnuts?"
"I do."
"Good. Me too. See you then."
* * *
It was strange being in number 10; the layout was identical to his own house, but everything looked different.
They were sat in the living room. They'd finished off the doughnuts and were drinking coffee. Brett leaned back and ran a hand through his spiky mohican. "So, Alex, tell me about yourself. How old are you?"
"Seventeen." He told the biker that he'd been born next door at number 8, his mother had left years ago, his father worked for the council, he did the cooking, and that he had a part-time job at Tescos.
"So you're on your own next door most of the time?"
"Yep. I play a lot of computer games."
Brett chuckled. "Do you like motorbikes?"
"I wouldn't know one end of a bike from the other."
"Ever been on one?"
"Nope."
"Would you like to? I could take you for a short ride if you like."
Alex's eyes opened wide. "Oh! Yes please! I'd love to."
"OK! Well finish your coffee and we'll go for a spin."
The crash helmet Brett had handed him felt heavy and strange. The biker rolled the machine out of the yard and into the alley, patted the back seat, and Alex climbed on.
"Put your arms round my waist. Keep your feet on the pegs even when we stop, and try not to lean at all."
"OK!" They moved slowly up the alley. When they had joined the road at the top, the bike speeded up.
Alex was loving this. The machine felt heavy and powerful, the vibrations were interesting, and the biker's waist felt solid under his hands.
Once out of town, Brett found a quiet road and opened the machine up. The acceleration caused Alex to slide back on the seat and he had to grip Brett to pull himself back. He took the opportunity to move his hands further around the biker so that it wouldn't happen again.
The air in his face was exhilarating, but it was making him squint, so he felt around the helmet with one hand and pulled the visor down. That was better, and a bit quieter too.
When they went over the canal bridge Alex left the seat for a moment. He grabbed Brett, and he heard him laugh.
As the bike landed again, his hands bumped down, and for a moment he felt the bulge between Brett's thighs. He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that the biker had a hard-on.
"You OK?"
"Oh yeah!" Alex was very Ok.
They went out to the reservoir, then took a long circle around the cricket ground, and made their way back home.
Brett brought the bike to a stop in the alley and Alex got off.
"Did you like that?"
Alex was grinning. "That was brilliant! Thank you."
* * *
Brett pressed a key on the computer and several windows appeared. He maximised one of them. The CCTV system showed a view from a camera high up on the house. Brett's back yard, with his motorbike in it, was the target, but the view included part of number 8's yard too. He clicked on the time bar, where a hit was marked. Probably that damn cat again, he thought. The view stayed the same, but the position of the sun changed, and it wasn't the cat – it was Alex. As he watched, the boy walked stealthily to the hedge, and peered through it for a while at Brett changing the bike's oil. Then he got his cock out and started wanking himself silly.
Brett smiled to himself. Interesting. This, he guessed, would not be the sort of thing Alex would like his friends – or his father – to see. Brett made a copy of the clip on his hard disc. He wasn't normally the blackmailing type at all, but that boy Alex was so damn cute…
* * *
"Something to show you. Follow me." Brett led the way up the stairs.
When the biker opened the door to the first room at the top, and switched the lights on, Alex stared. The window had been covered and the room was painted completely black. Some large constructions stood about: a table, a cross in the shape of an 'X', a trestle, and a large frame with what looked like a leather hammock hanging inside it. All of them had heavy straps. Shelves on the walls held items the boy couldn't identify, and, in one corner, there was a chair and a computer desk with three monitors. Brett stepped further into the room.
Nervously, Alex followed, eyeing the wooden benches and frames. "What are these for?"
Brett smiled. "Have you got any hobbies?"
Alex shook his head slowly. "Just computer games."
"Well, apart from the bike, my hobby is getting horny boys strapped down helpless, and making them need to cum."
What? Alex didn't know what to say. "Making them cum?"
"Well, usually, at the end, yes. But that's not what I said. I said 'making them need to cum'." Brett smiled slowly. "And I very much want to do that to you."
Alex dragged his eyes away from the sinister equipment in the room. The bulge in the biker's leather jeans was a lot bigger than it had been downstairs. He shook his head again. "No. No, I don't… That's not possible."
"Are you sure? Wouldn't you like to be helpless, and then have you cock tickled and teased and worked on by a leather biker? Very slowly? Until you cum…?"
Alex was suddenly aware that his own cock was hard. But he shook his head again. "No. I'm not kinky like that."
Brett nodded to the tent in the boy's shorts. "Your cock doesn't seem to agree with you." He stood in front of Alex. "Touch my leathers. Run your hands over them."
Alex didn't want to – but the biker was right: his cock did want him to. Tentatively, he reached one hand out and stroked the black leather jacket.
Brett smiled again. "Can you imagine what it would be like if you were completely naked, and you could feel my leather jacket and my leather jeans all over your body?"
Unbidden, that image came to the boy's mind as soon as Brett had said it. His cock jerked in his shorts.
Brett's voice was low, seductive. "You're seventeen. You must wank yourself off all the time. Ever had someone else do it? It feels so much better when another hand's teasing your cock."
Alex was staring at him like a rabbit caught in headlights.
"And if I strapped you down to that table so you couldn't get away, then lay on top of you very gently so that you could feel my black leathers all over you… Or knelt between your legs with my leather jeans sliding against the insides of your thighs, and started to tease your cock very gently, very slowly…"
Alex had never heard talk like this before. But Brett's words, and the images in his mind, were working well. In spite of his nervousness, the whole idea of this was becoming more attractive to the boy by the second.
"I – I don't know. I'm not…"
"Take your tee shirt off and lie down on the table."
Alex didn't know what to do. He knew he shouldn't, but he wanted to. He wanted to find out what it was like.
He stood there in dreadful indecision for a while, then he pulled his top off and lay down on the padded surface.
Brett carefully raised the boy's left arm to the top of the table and buckled the strap around it. Unhurriedly, he fastened his left ankle, then the other one, and finally his right wrist. A long leather strap went over his waist.
Brett stood back and looked at him, pulling on a pair of tight leather gloves. "There you go. That wasn't so bad, was it?" He climbed onto the table, and slowly lowered himself onto the boy.
Alex gasped as the cool leather jacket pressed against his bare chest. The good-looking biker was inches away, smiling at him.
Then soft lips were against his. Alex had never been kissed on the mouth by anybody – ever. He didn't know what to do, so he just did what felt right, and kissed the biker back, staring into his brown eyes. And it was wonderful.
When Brett finally pulled his head back, Alex sighed – he could have carried on doing that for a lot longer. Brett moved back on the table and knelt between the boy's legs.
"It would be a lot better if you didn't have your shorts on, but we can work with what we've got." He put his gloved hand on the inside of the bare leg, just above the knee, and stroked it very slowly upwards to the very top of the boy's thigh.
Alex gasped when the fingers slipped under the leg of his shorts – the feeling suddenly changed into something unbelievably more sexy. He gasped again as they found his hard cock and began to tease it slowly.
The boy shut his eyes as his body convulsed, and he came. "Oh shit!"
Brett's fingers didn't stop moving until the orgasm was completely over and Alex had collapsed back onto the table. "Was that nice?"
Unable to speak, Alex nodded. A lot.
He was sat on the table, examining the straps. His gaze moved to the other devices in the room. "What are these other things for?"
"Just different positions. Some are better for doing certain things to a boy, others are better for doing other things."
"What things?"
Brett looked at him for a moment before replying. "Well, if you ever come back, you might find out." He smiled.
"Hm. What do you like to do most?"
The biker didn't have to think about that for long. "Probably edging."
"Edging? What's that?"
Brett smiled again. "It's what I said before: making a boy need to cum very, very much indeed. Tell me, when you have a wank, how long does it last, start to finish?"
Alex still felt strange talking about things like this. "I dunno, a couple of minutes."
"Right. And does it feel good? Really good?"
"Yeah. Course."
"Ok. Now, what if it went on a lot longer? Wouldn't you like that?"
"I s'pose so. Yeah. I would."
"Well, I can make it go on for a long time. A long time. Think you'd like that?"
Alex thought that he would probably like that a lot. He nodded. "Oh yeah." He frowned. "But how do you do that?"
"Tell you what, if you come back again, next time I'll edge you. You'll love it."
"Oh. OK."
"Do you want to come back again?"
Alex looked down at the floor. He felt embarrassed. But he nodded.
* * *
Yesterday Alex had been working in the morning and visiting his grandmother at the care home later, so he hadn't been able to go round to Brett's. But all the time he'd been thinking about the biker, and that black room. And wondering what Brett was going to do to him. He was more excited than he'd been for a long time.
He tried to figure out what it was about the guy that fascinated him so much. Brett was good-looking, sure, and his mohican was sexy, but Alex didn't think that was all there was to it. Was it the leather? He'd seen guys in leather before, but it had never had any noticeable effect on him – he certainly never thought about it when he was wanking. Or at least he hadn't until now. Brett's leathers seemed different somehow. They were always skintight and very shiny, both his jeans and the bike suit, and his bulge was very obvious. Was that it? Alex sighed. He had no idea. But whatever it was, he realised that Brett turned him on. He turned him on a lot.
The biker was lying on the padded table in the black room, looking up at the boy. He was holding a blindfold in his hand. "Now, I'm going to put this on, so you don't have to worry about me looking at you. For the next few minutes you can do whatever you want to me. Anything you like. Go for it. Do what you want." He pulled the blindfold on.
Alex didn't know what to do. He stood looking at the biker for a few moments, and then tentatively reached out a hand and stroked a thigh. The tight leather felt seductively smooth and sexy under his fingers. Brett couldn't see him, and so, not giving himself time to think, he pulled his teeshirt, shorts and trainers off, and climbed onto the table. He dropped on top of the biker, put his arms around him as far as he could, and hugged him. The shiny black gear felt deliciously horny against his bare skin. Then he squeezed himself even tighter against Brett and kissed him.
A second later he came on the biker's leather jeans.
* * *
Afterwards, when Brett had taken the blindfold off, Alex had been self-conscious at first about his seeing him naked – especially his cock. He was certain that it had to be a lot smaller than Brett's, but the biker hadn't made any comment about it at all and now, as they lay side by side on the padded table, the feeling wasn't so bad.
Brett had wiped the boy's spunk off his jeans and now had his arms around Alex. He was chuckling. "We're going to have to do something about how easily you cum."
Alex felt his face go red. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Oh don't be sorry – it's brilliant. If I'm honest there's something dead sexy that you've got no control at all."
"Yeah?"
"Oh fuck yeah."
"I usually last a bit longer than that. But there's something about you… "
The biker smiled. "Good. Is it me, or the leather?"
Alex paused. "I don't know. I was thinking about that yesterday. I think it's both."
"Does leather turn you on?"
"I didn't think it did, but on you it does." He turned his head to look at the biker. "Does it turn you on?"
"Leather turns me on like fuck."
"Why?"
Brett shook his head. "I have no idea. But it always has done. I only have to see a guy in shiny black gear and I get a hard-on."
"Those leather jeans are skintight."
"I know. That's how I like them." He rolled over onto his side and pulled Alex closer. He looked down. "You have got an erection, boy. Again. For fuck's sake, you only came five minutes ago."
Alex chuckled. "Sorry. I'm seventeen."
Brett sighed happily. "Yeah." He pulled the boy close. They kissed again.
* * *
It was only the third time Alex had been in the playroom, and yet even before they'd reached the door his cock had started to get hard.
He was bent over a wooden trestle, with his wrists and ankles strapped to its legs. Between his thighs there was a small metal arm that could be extended. Its padded end was curved and could be adjusted to hold things pushed backwards as far as required. Currently Alex's rigid cock was held so that it was pointing towards the bikers' feet. His round balls were sticking out above the shaft.
"This position feels horny, the way my cock's pushed back," said Alex.
"I know it does. That's why I've put you on it." Brett turned a leather hood in his hands. "Ever seen one of these?"
Alex stared at it. He shook his head.
"Just think of it as a blindfold, though it's a bit more than that. You might panic at first cos you don't think you'll be able to breathe – but you will. There are two holes here," he pointed them out. And if you like leather, you'll love this." He opened the hood and pulled it down over the boy's head, positioning it so that the holes were in the right place.
Alex was determined not to panic, and he didn't. He inhaled experimentally. The air made a slight sound, but he could breathe with no trouble.
The hood smelled strongly of leather. It was shiny on the inside as well, and it got tighter and tighter over his face as Brett pulled the straps and buckled them behind his head. Space seemed to contract with the tightening of the straps. Alex wasn't sure if it was that, or the feel of the leather, or the novelty of being hooded, but he was beginning to feel very helpless indeed, and his cock was responding.
"OK." Brett's voice was slightly muffled. "Now just relax and enjoy it. I'm gonna make you need to cum and try to hold you close to the point of orgasm. Might not work first time cos I don't know your responses yet, but the more often we do it, the better I'll get."
Nothing happened for a few moments, and then the boy felt something touch his hard cock incredibly softly. It was too light to be fingers, he thought. Whatever it was traced once along the length of the shaft, slowed, and then trailed over the head before going away. His cock jerked – that had felt amazing.
Alex thought it must be a feather. When it came back it was on his balls. Oh fuck that tickled – but it also felt wonderfully erotic. It teased around, getting right into the tops of the creases at the sides of his scrotum, worked on the back of his balls, and then returned to the front. It ran along the shaft of his cock again, and teased the head for longer this time. Already, the boy wanted to cum. This was so new to him – whenever he wanted to cum he just grabbed his cock and wanked it. He'd never had it teased or tickled before.
And then Alex yelled in surprise as something startling happened: suddenly there was a buzzing noise, and the feelings from the feather became an entirely different thing.
It retraced the path it had done earlier – over his balls, all around them and then back to his cock – but now Alex could keep neither still nor silent. He struggled on the trestle like a mad thing, pulling at the restraints, and made a noise that was partly hysterical, ticklish shrieking, and partly a desperate need to cum. His cock was twitching and jerking almost as much as if he were ejaculating as the feather teased over the head. Whatever that thing was, it felt incredible.
Then it was gone, and the buzzing stopped.
Alex was panting. "Oh fuck, I need to cum. I need to cum!"
"I know you do." There was a slow smile in Brett's voice.
Cool hands – they felt like rubber – stroked over his back, thighs and buttocks for a while, and then the fingers of one hand parted his arse cheeks and held them wide open. The buzzing started again. The device returned – but this time the point of the feather was targetted directly and precisely onto the very centre of his arse hole.
Alex's whole body jerked and he yelled into the hood as the feather stroked slowly round the rim of his hole. He had never ever felt anything tickle as much as that – and yet at the same time it made his need for orgasm even worse. He didn't know whether to scream in hysterics or to beg the biker to let him cum. In the end he did both.
After a while the hand moved. Now the rubber fingers held his cock halfway down the shaft, while the buzzing feather was back on the head. This was too much. This time he was going to cum. No question.
But it all stopped again. Shit shit shit! How had the bastard known he'd been on the point of cumming? How? As he felt the longed-for orgasm recede, it was the most frustrating thing he'd ever experienced. He shook his head and wailed. He'd never felt anything like this before; whenever he wanked, he came. But this time he couldn't – and he needed to so fucking badly.
A few moments later the feather was back. A finger and thumb were motionless, now just holding the sides of his balls gently while the point of the buzzing feather traced slowly over the head. It was unbelievably intense, and brought him back to the point of almost-cumming in seconds. The bastard had chosen the position he'd got him in very carefully, Alex thought: pushed back like that his cock was unbearably sensitive and vulnerable.
The hand was removed and everything stopped again.
Variations on this were repeated for the next hour. Alex felt totally helpless, strapped to the trestle with the hood pressing tight over his face; he couldn't see anything and he couldn't control what the biker was doing to him. He couldn't escape, he couldn't make himself cum, and he couldn't get away from Brett's hand or from that damned feather – not that he wanted to – but he knew that he'd been restrained so that he couldn't do any of those things, and even that was turning him on like fuck. For a horny seventeen-year old boy who had never been edged in his life – who had never even heard of edging until yesterday – this was total overkill.
He'd long ago lost count of the number of times he'd been on the very edge of cumming, and then hadn't been able to because the bastard had stopped just too soon. Sweat was running down his face under the leather hood, and his voice was hoarse with yelling and pleading. He'd never been so fucking horny, and, for the first time ever, he was experiencing something that he needed to stop immediately – and also to go on forever.
Eventually the biker made him cum using nothing but the feather – holding it against his cockhead briefly, then removing it for a couple of seconds – and doing that repeatedly. This made the boy's approach to orgasm the slowest yet – and when it arrived, it was completely off the scale. His muscles tensed, the shiny inside of the leather hood clung tightly to his face, he fought the restraints, and he screamed as he began to shoot his spunk helplessly in rhythmic, pounding spurts. The biker kept the feather touching constantly now, vibrating right on the boy's frenulum, until the very last drop of spunk had been extracted.
He collapsed back onto the wooden trestle, exhausted. Brett unfastened him and took the hood off.
It was a while before Alex could function again. In the end he just shook his head and groaned. "Oh fuuuuck."
When he'd recovered, he asked, "what was that thing you used on my cock? It felt like a feather – at least it did to begin with."
Brett smiled, and picked up the device. He showed it to the boy. "It's a sonic toothbrush with a small feather instead of a brush."
Alex looked at it, shaking his head in wonder. "Oh fuck, that's intense. You have an evil, evil mind."
Brett chuckled. "I know. I had the idea last week. Very precise – and completely fucking irresistible." He turned it on for a moment, and Alex touched the feather with his fingertip. The buzzing briefly echoed around the room. He turned it off again. "I think you'd agree it seems to work quite well…"
Alex sat in his bedroom, thinking, and worrying. He'd been going round there every few days now for the last four weeks, and he was loving every minute of it. Brett used that sonic feather on him almost every time, and it was – as the biker had said – fucking irresistible. He was getting to love being restrained too. And the feel of leather against his bare skin. And the hood - not being able to see, feeling helpless. It was all so fucking horny . And the intense orgasms were amazing. He'd also wanked Brett off a few times too. He'd been right: the biker's cock was a lot bigger than his own. But he'd loved doing that as well. He'd discovered that Brett's self-control wasn't too good either, when he'd made the biker cum in his leather jeans once, out of pure devilment. That had been fun.
But as he stared out of his bedroom window, he had a frown on his face. It seemed to him that the thing that turned Brett on most of all about him was the fact that he was incapable of stopping himself from cumming. His worry was that if he ever became able to last a bit longer, to control himself better, Brett would lose interest in him. This worried him a great deal. He did not want to lose this biker.
"You're not your usual cheerful self. What's wrong?" Brett and he were on the settee at number 10, drinking coffee.
Alex smiled. "Nothing."
"Problems at home?"
"No – everything's fine there."
"OK, so is it something I've done? Or haven't done?"
"No. Nothing like that."
"Well you're obviously worried about something. If it's anything to do with coming round here, tell me. Maybe I can help."
Alex had debated with himself whether to tell Brett, or if just saying it out loud would cause it to be true. He looked at the biker, and told him.
Brett put down his coffee, turned to face Alex, and put his arms around him. He ruffled the boy's hair. "Alex, I'm going to be honest with you. You're right: I fucking love that you can't stop yourself from cumming. That turns me like fuck. It gets me hard. I don't see any reason why you shouldn't continue to be like that. And even if you do get better at controlling yourself, it won't make me go off you. Because…" He stopped, as if not sure about whether he should say what he was going to say. He started again. "I'm going to tell you something I probably shouldn't. Promise me you won't run for the hills."
"Of course I won't."
"OK." He looked into the boy's eyes. "I think I'm in love with you, Alex."
Alex stared at him, then, slowly, his face lit up as if he'd just been given the best Christmas present in the world. "Really?"
"Really."
"Oh fuck." He flung his arms around the biker and hugged him, his face buried in his leather jacket.
"You might get better control of yourself at some point, but right now I like knowing that I can make you cum in ten seconds and there's fuck-all you can do to stop me."
"Ten seconds? Bullshit."
"I could have you squirting your spunk in ten seconds flat."
Alex pulled back and looked Brett in the face. "You think so, biker?"
Brett grinned. "I know so, boy."
"Ten seconds? No fucking way."
The biker grinned. "Wanna bet on that?"
"Yeah!"
"Five quid."
"Ten."
They were still arguing about the stakes as he raced the boy upstairs.
* * *
Brett sat – alone now – at the computer table in the black room, wiping teenage boy-spunk off his leather jeans. He grinned. Alex owed him twenty quid. He fired up the computer and replayed the CCTV clip, watching the boy as he wanked himself off, on the other side of the hedge. He smiled.
Then he deleted it.