The Telemachus Story Archive

The Orgasm
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



The Orgasm

Marco hated parties, but it was his mate’s 21st so he hadn’t really been able to refuse. He’d known Col a long time, but their friendship had wavered when he’d refused the guy’s advances one evening a few months ago. Col had not taken it well - he fancied Marco like crazy - and so it did cross his mind to wonder if he’d been invited out of affection, or simply because he was such a stunningly hot boy and his presence at the party would add to Col’s reputation.

One of Marco’s failings, he knew, was that he tended to be a bit narcissistic - he was well aware that nature had been more than kind to him in the looks department, and he was constantly told by just about everybody he met that he was fucking gorgeous. Jet black hair, green eyes, kissable lips, and a slim, firmly muscled body that got girls’ knickers wet (and got cocks hard – though Marco was straight and the only hard cock he was interested in was his own). But he took devilish delight in making himself look as sexy as possible, not only to turn the girls on, but also to prick-tease gay guys as well - the thought that they wanted him so badly but couldn’t have him, turned him on like fuck. To that end he wore tight muscle shirts and jeans that were designed to show off his thighs and bubble butt, and also to make his already impressive bulge as obvious as possible.

The more he thought about it, the more interesting the idea of this party was becoming – it would be a chance to wear something outrageous and prick-tease the fuck out of everybody, he thought. And he had just the thing.

He’d recently bought a pair of shiny black PVC leggings that were obscenely tight and very stretchy. He’d got them on a whim because he thought he’d enjoy looking at himself in the mirror in them. They were not the kind of things he would normally wear in public – after all, it was girls who usually wore stuff like that - but he’d found to his surprise that with his leather jacket and muscle shirt, the big chunky New Rock boots and the studded black leather belt, they didn’t make him look effeminate at all – quite the reverse, in fact: he looked dead masculine in them and they turned his already sexy legs into ones he just knew everybody would want to touch.

When the leggings had first arrived and he’d taken them out of the small packet he’d looked at the insubstantial, floppy things and thought he’d made a bad mistake. But they slid up his legs like elastic, very black and very glossy, stretching easily to fit his shape, and when he’d got them on he couldn’t believe it: they looked fucking amazing. The leggings were a lot thinner than the jeans he was used to – he could even feel the cooler air of the room through them – but they showed the curves of his thigh muscles wonderfully, and what they did to his bulge was unbelievable. He got hard looking at himself in the mirror. And when he tried his muscle shirt, leather jacket, the studded belt and the New Rocks on with them, he just never wanted to take them off. He loved the way he looked, he felt more sexy than he had done for fucking ages, and he knew that he was going to blow more than a few minds at that party.

That party was being held in a flat in Clapham. He could hear it going on even before he rang the door bell.

“Marco!” Col smiled.

“Happy Birthday, Col.”

“Thanks.” Col’s eyes travelled slowly down the boy’s body and came to rest on the bulge between his thighs. “Fuck! You look amazing! Come in!”

The sodium-lit rooftops of Clapham were visible between the half-closed beige curtains – it was a nice view. People were drinking, laughing and generally living it up in the large living room. A guy on the far side was sat at a small table by the wall snorting coke. “You can leave your jacket in one of the bedrooms if you want.”

It was warm in the flat, so Marco nodded. He followed Col down a corridor past several doors to the bedroom at the end, and added his leather jacket to the pile of coats on the bed. “This is a big place. How many bedrooms have you got?”

“Three. Yeah, I was lucky getting this. It’s too big for just me really, but having the space is nice.” He ran his fingers over Marco’s biceps. “You been working out?”

The boy smiled. “A bit.”

“Mmm… Looks good. Come through and have a drink and meet the guys.”

Col introduced him to several people (whose names he immediately forgot), before excusing himself and going off to chat to others. People at parties always look the same, Marco thought. Were there ones who did nothing else but go from one do to another? Rent-a-crowd? Guys who thought they were cool and fashionable with their beards but who actually looked ridiculous; women with cheekbones that could cut paper, in clothes that looked dreadful but cost an arm and a leg. His grandfather used to call them the ‘in-crowd’. Marco didn’t know what they were called these days, but whatever it was, these people were it. He got himself a drink and ambled round, conscious of eyes following him wherever he went. He was used to it, but he smiled to himself even more right now, knowing exactly how much he was turning these people on looking how hot he did tonight.

In the whole room there wasn’t a single girl he fancied, but he did notice one good-looking blond guy who couldn’t take his eyes off him. The guy was almost drooling. Marco decided to spend the evening prick-teasing the fuck out of him just for the hell of it – there was nothing else to do. He’d enjoy telling him he was straight when, as was almost certain, Blondie would undoubtedly throw himself at his booted feet later.

He’d seen a few of the girls looking at the guy and knew that they were fantasising about getting into his pants. That would make it even better, he thought. He bet that they had no idea that Blondie was gay – and he was pretty certain that he was.

Marco walked over and stood where the guy could get a good view of him. On the way he was accosted - first by a girl with make-up so thick you could scrape it off with a trowel; and then by one whose plastic surgeon, he thought, was very seriously overpaid.

He leaned against the back of an armchair and hooked a thumb in his studded belt, staring out of the window, where he could also see the blond guy’s reflection in the glass. His fingers came to rest on the side of his shiny black bulge, and he began to stroke them slowly over it as if he were doing it unconsciously.

The guy swallowed. He moved slightly to the left to get an even better view. He was trying to watch Marco without its being obvious, and kept looking away at other things, but his hungry gaze always returned to the boy. After a couple of minutes he nonchalantly lay his hand over his crotch – Marco smiled: the guy was getting an erection and trying to hide it.

Marco pushed himself off the back of the chair, turned a little towards the guy, and stretched slowly and self-indulgently. It was a move he’d practised in front of the mirror many times and knew it showed off his muscled arms, his slim waist, his subtle six-pack and his round arse beautifully. He looked around, then went to the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat, passing close to Blondie on the way, but carefully never looking at him.

There was a whole buffet laid out there, and Marco circled it slowly, picking up things he liked the look of. The inevitable sausages on sticks were present and he collected a few. On the way out he passed Blondie coming in. The guy caught his eye, and Marco flashed his sexiest smile back at him.

The place on the settee where Blondie had been sitting was vacant now, so Marco sat down, straightened his legs and crossed them at the ankles with his thighs tight together – knowing that this made his bulge stand out as much as possible – and nibbled a slice of quiche.

Blondie returned - he hadn’t even stayed in the kitchen long enough to pick up anything to eat. He found a spot at the side of the settee, by the curtains, where he could justifiably more or less face Marco and still not seem as if the boy was the only thing he was looking at.

Marco registered this in his peripheral vision, finished the quiche and picked up a sausage. He licked the end of it with the tip of his tongue, then pushed it slowly between his lips, and stroked it sensuously from side to side between them, closing his eyes in pleasure. He bit a piece off.

Blondie was almost creaming his jeans. He had to keep adjusting himself under the pretext of wiping bits of stray food off them.

Marco was enjoying himself immensely prick-teasing this guy – and the ways he abused the sausages when no-one was looking were shameful. When he’d finished eating he put the paper plate down, stretched again, and ran his fingers lightly and slowly over his shiny black thighs.

A girl came up to him, smiling widely. It was obvious in her every movement that she desperately wanted sex, he thought.

“Hi! My friend Julie asked me to say that she thinks you’re awesome!”

Marco felt like rolling his eyes - even though he was no language pedant, he hated the misuse of that word - but he smiled back instead. “Well please thank her. But tell Julie that I’m waiting for someone.”

The smile faltered on the girl’s face, and then disappeared. “Whatever,” she said as she turned away.

Marco was about to go back to prick-teasing the guy, but the space where he’d been was empty. He felt the settee settle as someone sat down at his side.

“Hi,”

He turned and found himself face to face with Blondie.

“Carter,” the guy said, holding out his hand. “Would you like a drink?”

Marco took the outstretched hand. “Marco. Thanks, but I was just thinking of calling it a day and going home.”

“Oh don’t go yet, Marco! The games haven’t started yet!”

“Games?”

“Oh yeah! Col’s doing games!”

Party games were the very last thing Marco needed. “I’m not really into party games.”

“Oh these are different! Col’s promised all kinds of unusual things!”

He could hear the exclamation marks at the end of everything Carter said. “I don’t think so -”

A shadow blocked the light for a moment. “Marco.” Col was standing over them. “I see you’ve met Carter. Hey, listen – I need your help. Your advice.”

Marco raised his eyebrows. “My help?”

“Yeah.” Col looked over his shoulder then beckoned conspiratorially. “Come with me, will you? Want to talk to you in private.”

“I was just thinking of going home.”

“What? No! Come on, It’ll only take a minute. Please.”

Marco stood up. “Okay,” he sighed. “Lead on.”

Col led the way to the last bedroom but one. Marco followed him in. Once inside, Col turned and smiled at the boy.

Someone stepped out from behind the door and grabbed him.

“What the fuck…?”

They wrestled Marco onto the bed, and in less than a minute he was tied down to it, his wrists and ankles firmly cuffed to the four corners. Col and the other guy – who was large and muscly and had put on a ski mask for the occasion – stood looking down at him.

“Thanks,” said Col. The big guy nodded, then left, removing his mask. He closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.

Col sat on the bed, holding a roll of duct tape in his hand. He leaned down and whispered. “Marco, Marco. You think you’re God’s gift, don’t you. You make yourself look as hot as fuck and then when people want to have sex with you you tell them to piss off cos they’re not good enough for you.” He pressed the duct tape over the swearing boy’s mouth, and wrapped it around his head a couple of times, gagging him securely. “Well, my sexy boy, you’ve got a lot to learn. You’re going to be at certain selected people’s disposal tonight – and there’s fuck all you can do about it.” There was a ripping sound and a second piece of tape went over Marco’s eyes. “And you won’t even be able to see who’s doing what to you.” He stood up, put the roll of tape down on the bedside table, and gave the boy’s shiny PVC bulge a squeeze. “Enjoy,” he said, as he left the room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.

Marco swore into the gag and pulled at the restraints but they held fast. He did everything he could to get the duct tape off, but it wouldn’t budge. This was the first time he’d ever been tied up, and he didn’t like it one bit. He lay there fuming impotently. At least the bed was comfortable. Who were these ‘certain selected people’? And what the fuck were they planning? He was not at all happy, but Col had been right: there didn’t appear to be a lot he could do about it.

Ten minutes later he heard the door open, and then, after a while, close again. He held his breath, listening. Someone was in the room with him. Who was there? He wished that he could fucking see .

Nothing happened.

Marco nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt a touch on his thigh. Fingers stroked slowly up until they came to his bulge – and then they started to play with it. Fingertips teased and stroked; they felt cool through the stretchy PVC. God, he thought, this stuff is so fucking sensitive he could almost feel the fingerprint ridges. The fingers found his cock and concentrated on it, teasing gently up the soft shaft to the head.

Marco knew it was a girl: the touch was so soft and light. Probably awesome ’s friend Julie, or whatever her name was. He gasped as the girl’s other hand began to tickle his balls and his perineum, equally lightly. Damn these fucking thin leggings, he thought – if he’d been wearing jeans it would have been a lot easier to deal with.

Then he jumped again. More fingers – this time on his chest. There were two people in here with him! These stroked across his black muscle shirt, over his pecs, down to his abs and up again.

And then there were even more – on his legs! How many people were in here with him for fuck’s sake? There seemed to be fingers everywhere. They teased all over his legs, even getting under his knees; they ran across the fronts of his thighs, up the insides, over his perineum; they stroked his chest, sides, stomach and abs; they tickled his balls and worked on his cock.

The idea of being played with by unseen hands while he was tied down did not appeal to Marco in the slightest – he’d never found the idea of bondage the least bit horny - and yet behind the duct tape his imagination was showing him a view of himself from above: his firm body in the black sleeveless shirt, his bare muscular arms stretched out to the corners of the bed; the studded belt low on his hips; and above the heavy New Rock Boots, the skintight shiny black leggings that showed his bulge and legs off like nothing else. Being stroked all over by hands… And that image in his mind was turning him on. He began to get hard.

The fingers on his cock noticed this and followed the growing shape as it began to stiffen under them. The leggings were so stretchy that it was as if they weren’t even there: they offered zero resistance to the bulge as it got bigger and bigger, and very soon it was a long, pointed shiny black triangle sticking straight out from his body, with the smaller bulge of his balls beneath it. His cock head was stretching the material so much that it looked like there was nothing over it at all, and that it had been carefully sprayed with black gloss paint.

It had been the image of himself in his mind that had started to get Marco horny, but the feel of the stretchy PVC as it allowed his cock to grow into such a vulnerable position, and the fingers that had started to take full advantage of this, were now responsible for his continued growing horniness.

Fingers and fingernails stroked and scratched over him everywhere – the ones on his cock were especially intense – and to his horror he felt the early beginnings of approaching orgasm. This wouldn’t do. He was buggered if he’d cum for these people like this: tied up, gagged and blindfolded like a fucking sex toy, an object . Usually he didn’t cum very easily – that was one of the things that girls loved about him: he had good self-control. He could fuck them for hours without cumming. But for some reason he’d allowed all of this to turn him on far too much. He willed himself to back off and, as he’d expected, he felt the tickle of impending orgasm recede. His cock was still hard, but it lost that urgent rigidity that precedes imminent ejaculation.

The girl who was working on Marco’s cock must have felt this, as she took her hands away. Then the others did too. There was silence for a moment, and then something touched his bare arms. Three things, in fact. It took Marco a few seconds to realise what they were as they were rolled and slid over his bare skin – and then he yelled into the gagging duct tape: they were unmistakably hard cocks . He could feel the hairy balls brushing the sides of his arms too.

He struggled and swore, but he was helpless. This time he heard the cocks being put away. The fingers started on him again – and then somebody kissed his gagged mouth. He felt sick at the thought of another guy kissing him.

The hand at his crotch gripped the base of his cock and squeezed gently, pulling it even further down away from his body and holding it there while fingers began to work on the head again. But now they gripped it and wanked it slowly. The other hands were teasing every one of his erogenous zones – there were even fingers slowly stroking right in his armpits, which to his surprise he found intensely erotic. The insides of his thighs were being tickled, right at the top, his balls were being teased, and his cock head was being worked on irresistibly.

Marco almost panicked as he realised that he was getting close to cumming again. He was fighting to control himself but this time it wasn’t fucking working.

But before the unthinkable happened, the hands on his cock were removed – and then the other fingers too. He heard whispered voices, and a moment later the door opening. A few seconds later it closed. What was happening? Had a different lot come in? Was Col selling tickets? He listened intently, but he couldn’t hear anything - not even breathing. Perhaps everybody had gone. Damn this fucking duct tape - he really wished that he could see what was going on.

“Guh!” There were fingers on him again. He felt them go under his belt, grip the elastic waistband of his leggings, and start to pull them down. He shook his head and rammed his arse into the bed to prevent it but although he was struggling they gradually worked the shiny PVC down over his hips. Once over those it was easier and they slid down his thighs. Freed, his cock bounced out and swayed in the air.

He felt a hand under his balls, and a finger was pushed a little way into his arsehole. The boy bucked in the restraints as it went in, yelling fit to bust. The other fingers of that hand gripped his balls gently and just held them. Then lips enclosed his cock and began to suck it slowly.

Oh fuck no, the finger felt good. Well, it wasn’t so much that the finger itself felt good, it was that its presence there - along with the fact that it was moving backwards and forwards – made the gentle holding of his balls, and also what the mouth was doing to his cock, feel even hornier.

He did not want a guy to get him any more horny, and he moaned into the gag, asking him to stop.

Marco’s cock was sliding in and out as the warm, wet mouth sucked up and down the length of it leisurely, the tongue swirling teasingly over the bare glans with each stroke. It felt amazing - the boy had never had such a skillful, slow blow-job in his life. He found himself giving in to pure pleasure as his cock was worked on. Normally he would have broken the legs of any guy who tried to do this to him, but it was unbelievably wonderful. His entire body tingled under the gentle, light touch. Even the fact that he was restrained, gagged, blindfolded – usually things that he’d have run a mile to avoid – seemed to add to the horniness he was feeling at that moment. He kept telling himself: this is a guy doing it to you, not a girl. But it made no difference – it still felt amazing - and in spite of himself he was getting more turned on by the second.

Again Marco felt the beginnings of orgasm – but so, apparently, did the guy working on his cock – because he stopped, and took his mouth off. The hard cock sprang back to almost vertical. The guy’s free hand moved to the bottom of his cock shaft, the fingers gripping it to keep it still, and pulling it back down again. Then he felt something at the base of the head: the tip of a tongue licking very lightly just over Marco’s frenulum. Nothing else, just on that one spot. Up and down, up and down.

The feeling of impending orgasm receded, but the tongue didn’t stop. It carried on doing exactly the same thing, and after a minute or so the feeling began to return. It grew steadily until Marco knew he was going to cum – but then it slowly ebbed again. The guy’s technique didn’t change at all, the tongue continued to lick gently up and down, just on his frenulum. His balls were being held gently, the finger in his arse now no longer moving, but it was still there; and the awareness of it inside him - and of the tension of his sphincter pressing round it - was adding to his horniness a great deal.

The feeling came back again – this time a bit more urgently. It was as if it was coming in waves. Over the next fifteen minutes, the waves continued to come; every time gradually building to a slightly higher peak, and then subsiding – each a little more intense than the last. At the height of every one, Marco wanted to cum more urgently than ever – and then the feeling would go away slightly, until the next wave came. Nothing at all was being done to him except that tongue licking up and down slowly over his frenulum, but when each wave reached its maximum it made him need to cum so badly that he fought to get his hand to his cock to wank it hard and fast. It felt as if his entire body was glowing.

For fifteen minutes he rode the waves, getting more and more desperate, And every time he knew beyond any doubt that he was going to cum – but every time the feeling subsided a little, leaving him panting and frustrated. He couldn’t get any more horny – but each time, he did.

Then another wave began – and this one didn’t stop. Marco felt a warmth in his toes. That warmth spread to his feet, then his legs. And it grew, becoming a fire as it moved up him. Another had started in his fingers and was working its way along his arms, through his chest and stomach. The two fires coursed slowly through his entire body like liquid gold until finally they met at his cock.

He arched his back. A long, slow moan began under the gagging tape, building up and up until it became a ragged, shuddering scream - and he started to cum.

As the first gob of spunk pumped madly out of his cock, the one thing Marco needed more than anything at that moment – the thing he was longing for – was for the guy to take its entire length into his mouth or his hand and work on it hard and fast. But the guy didn’t. Instead, his tongue continued to lick slowly just over the frenulum.

Marco was screaming into the gagging duct tape as gob after gob of spunk shot into the air – but the tongue carried on doing what it was doing without speeding up or changing its technique in any way at all. The boy’s upper body was bouncing on the bed as he came, but the guy held his cock still and kept on licking it every bit as slowly and gently throughout the whole thing. And it went on for a long time. He didn’t even stop when Marco eventually collapsed back onto the mattress, the monumental orgasm subsiding. For a full minute after Marco’s spunk had stopped erupting he continued to stroke his tongue over the boy’s frenulum.

Marco would have thought this would have been post-orgasm torture, but it wasn’t in the slightest: on the contrary, it felt unbelievable. Although he’d stopped ejaculating ages ago, he still felt as if he were cumming. He wanted it to go on forever.

He had never, ever, had an orgasm like that before in his life. He’d had good fucks, blow-jobs a-plenty, and even great hand-jobs, but never anything like this. He would never in his wildest dreams have imagined that an orgasm could be so intense, so exquisite or go on for so long. And something else: usually after he’d cum he immediately lost interest in everything and got irritable if he couldn’t just lie there like a zombie for half an hour. But he felt great - invigorated even – and, strangely, not at all pissed off at how it had been done to him. If Marco’s mouth hadn’t been covered with duct tape he’d have been beaming.

What now? Would other people come in? God, he hoped not. He didn’t even want to think about being played with any more after this.

He was allowed to rest for a while, and then he was forced out of his comfortable, warm reverie by a hand at his face. Fingers carefully pulled the duct tape off his eyes. He squinted in the bright light, and he was aware of a guy looking down at him. The face gradually resolved itself…

It was Col.

Col smiled, then unwrapped the tape from around Marco’s head and mouth. The boy licked his lips as it came off.

“Did you enjoy that? It’s something I learned from a guy years ago.”

Marco stared. “That was you on my cock?” He’d actually assumed it had been Blondie.

“It was. It’s called a Frenulum Orgasm. Supposed to be the most intense way there is to make a guy cum. I’ve had it done to me quite a few times. Nothing like it.”

“It -” Marco swallowed. His body was still buzzing. “It was unbelievable.”

Col smiled. “Just think how many of those you could have had since you turned me down.”

Marco didn’t know what to say.

Col set about releasing the boy from the leather cuffs. “Well, if you ever want another one, you’ve only got to ask. You’ve got my number.”


Back home, Marco flopped down into his armchair and raised the bottle of beer thoughtfully to his lips, his mind replaying that incredible orgasm of an hour ago. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror on the living room wall. From this angle his shiny black legs formed a perfect V leading to the sexy bulge between his thighs. He frowned. He had no interest in bondage – and yet being helpless had, unquestionably, been a huge turn on at the time. He didn’t understand that. Nor did he understand why being gagged and blindfolded had seemed to be so horny. He thought about what Col had said to him in the end bedroom while he’d been putting his leather jacket back on. “How can a girl know what it feels like to have a cock worked on? Girls don’t have them. Have you any idea what it’s like to have your clit played with? Of course not. That’s why guys are the best at making other guys feel so good.” There was, he had to admit, a lot of logic in that.

But he didn’t fancy guys, he fancied girls. But there again, it had been a guy who had done that to him. But the fact that he’d been blindfolded had helped a lot, he told himself. So many buts . He didn’t know what to think.

He looked at his reflection and realised that he was as horny as fuck again. He’d have a wank, while the memory of being tied to that bed was fresh in his mind. He pulled the leggings down.

It didn’t take him long to cum. But on his private 1-10 scale it was only a 7. He thought it should have been a lot higher. He finished his beer and went to bed.


Two days later he was sat in the same armchair, thinking about it again. In the last 48 hours he’d fucked two girls (one of them had been his favourite fuck) and he’d had three blow-jobs from them. And not one of those orgasms had been anywhere close to the one he’d had at the party. He realised for the first time that girls just didn’t know how to do it. He put the shiny black gear on again, including the PVC leggings, lay on his bed and teased his cock lightly through them, watching himself in the bedroom mirror. He got hard and continued to edge himself until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and he just had to cum. Then he pulled them down and wanked himself off.

As before, it was disappointing. No more than a 6 this time.

He went back into the living room and sat, his head back, staring at the wall above the mirror. Oh fuck, he wanted to feel like that again. That orgasm had been totally off the scale.

No. He was straight. He was not into being tied up. He was not into another guy sucking or licking his cock. He couldn’t bring himself to ask a guy to strap him down, blindfold him and gag him, and work on his cock.

He looked at the phone. He was getting hard.

No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He looked at the phone again. Then he picked it up and dialled.

“Col,” he said…