Rob pulled the handbrake on and studied the GPS. One more delivery and then he had the weekend to himself. He’d got nothing planned, although Evie had said she’d come over on Saturday night if he wanted her to. He smiled as he pictured her naked: those firm, grabbable breasts, slim waist, round bum. He intended to give her another long, slow seeing-to. According to her, she really got off on bikers, but he was always disappointed that the leather that she said turned her on so much never figured at all in the sex they had.
126 Park Street was, so the screen informed him, down the hill on the right. He coasted slowly along the road, checking the house numbers. Yep, there it was, right where it should be. The only parcel left in the van was a foot on a side, and not too heavy. He locked the doors, walked up the path and rang the bell.
The door was opened by a muscular guy with buzz-cut hair, stubble beard, a black tee shirt and Levis. He looked at Rob and smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi. Delivery for you. Needs a signature.”
“Ah. Ok thanks.” The guy took the parcel and scribbled something unintelligible on Rob’s phone. “It’s late. Got many more deliveries today?”
“Nah, this is my last one.”
“Oh right. Well, fancy a quick drink then, mate? I’ve got some beers in the fridge.”
It was tempting. Another half hour wouldn’t make any difference. “Oh! Ok. Sure. Thanks. That’d be great.”
The guy led him into the living room. “Take a pew. Back in a tick.”
Rob sat down and looked around. There wasn’t a great deal of furniture, but what there was looked expensive: grey and black with oak chairs and a glass coffee table.
“I’m Chris. Nice to meet you.” He handed the boy a half-pint glass.
“Thanks. I’m Rob. Nice place.”
“Yeah. Cheers, Rob.” He raised his own glass and they both took a drink.
There were photos of motorbikes on the walls. Rob loved bikes – he had a Honda 600 himself – and the next ten minutes was taken up swapping stories about them and drinking cold beer. Chris was a biker too, it seemed – though his favourites were Kawasakis.
The beer was making Rob sleepy. He could hardly keep his eyes open. The last thing he remembered was Chris smiling slightly – then he fell sideways onto the settee.
“Guurg…” Rob forced his eyes open, and winced as the light stabbed the mother of a headache into existence. Bad idea. He closed them again. “Oh fuck.” He felt terrible. He ached all over and there was a bad taste in his mouth. Very carefully he opened his eyes again and looked out. He was sitting in the van, and it was parked at the end of his road. He had no recollection of driving back from… that last delivery. Where was it – Park Street. That was the other side of town.
Forcing himself to wake up, he straightened in the seat and tried to remember. He’d delivered the parcel, had been invited in for a drink, but that was it. Nothing else after that. He couldn’t even remember what the guy had looked like.
He was reaching forward to start the van, when his phone rang in his pocket. He took it out and looked at the screen. No caller ID. “Hello?”
“Look at the last vid on your phone.” The line went dead.
Rob tried 1471. Number withheld. He found the video. “ThisOne.mp4” He tapped it.
Oh fuck. He watched the little screen in mounting horror as he saw himself on a beige carpet, sucking a guy’s cock and then, later, being fucked by the guy. The man was naked except for the black balaclava hiding his identity. Rob’s own face was clear to see. The worst thing was that in the vid, although he looked a bit drunk, he wasn’t being forced – it seemed like he was doing it quite voluntarily. Oh fuck. He’d been roofied.
The phone rang again. “What?”
“Like our little vid? We’ve made copies of it, and we also took all the contacts from your address book. The vid will be sent to every one of them at midnight tonight.”
Rob’s hands shook. All his friends, his parents, Evie and his other girls were on there. If they saw that, it would ruin his fucking life. “What? No! You can’t-”
“There is one way you can stop this happening. This evening we will send you an address by text. You will turn up there within an hour of getting the text. You will come on your bike, in your leathers, you will bring your phone and you will tell nobody where you’re going. When you get there you will go in, close the door, and follow the instructions you’ll find there. You will do exactly as you’re told. You cause any problems, mate, the vid will be sent immediately. Say “yes” if you understand.”
Rob swallowed. “Yes,” he said.
The line went dead. Rob put his phone down and looked at his watch – 9.32am. He started the van and drove down the road to his house.
After a shower and a cup of strong coffee he began to feel better. He sat down naked in the armchair. It wasn’t so much that he’d been fucked – although that was bad enough – what was really getting to him was the way it had been done: he’d been effectively raped, and he had no fucking idea who’d done it.
He frowned at his cock – it was slightly hard. Then he realised that he was horny. He was very horny, in fact. What was that about? He hadn’t cum for a few days (and he hadn’t done last night by the feel of things) so that was probably it. He got up with the intention of going into the bedroom and having a wank, but he stopped halfway there. God knows what would be done to him tonight, or what he would have to do to them, and it might be easier to cope with if he was horny. Feeling a big frustrated, he pulled on his Levis and teeshirt. Rob had gone commando ever since he’d left school – he loved the feel of jeans around his cock – but he considered putting some underpants on now because he knew the rough denim would only make him hornier as the day wore on. Fuck it, he thought, he liked to feel horny. No underpants.
He went for a jog around the park, then spent some time reading. He thought about going to the gym for an hour or two but decided that would tire him out too much for whatever was going to happen tonight. The afternoon was spent playing computer games and watching the TV. And worrying.
At 7pm exactly, his phone beeped as a text arrived. The address he had to go to was ten minutes away on the bike. There was also the instruction, ‘park on the left hand side of the drive, close to the wall’.
He had to be there by 8pm at the latest. He took a deep breath, went into the bedroom and changed into his leathers, then locked up, got the bike out of the garage and set off.
The house looked as if it had been empty for some time. It had an attached garage, and he parked the bike on the side of the drive as instructed, then went up to the door. There was a window to the right that had been covered on the inside with black plastic.
Rob pushed down the handle and entered a porch. When he closed the door the only illumination was from a dim bulb in the ceiling. On a small table was a note, and a leather hood. He read the note. “Put the hood on. Lock it on. Wait.”
He picked it up. It was made of thin leather, and apart from a pair of breathing holes under the shaped nose, it was featureless. At the bottom, running through loops, was a narrow neck strap with holes in it at one end and a metal post with a small open padlock through it at the other. He removed the lock, pulled the hood over his head, felt around until he found a hole for the post to go through, and clicked the padlock closed. Then he waited. It felt strange: although the hood was thin and not at all tight, he’d never had anything like that over his head before and it felt claustrophobic, confining. He couldn’t see anything at all. The unlined leather moved towards his face whenever he breathed in, making him feel uncomfortably helpless and vulnerable.
He heard the inner door open, then hands took his arm and guided him into the house, closing the door behind him. His wrists were handcuffed behind his back, then he felt fingers checking at his neck. They opened the lock, pulled the strap a couple of notches tighter, and re-locked it. “You can’t see through the hood, and you can’t get it off. So you’re completely dependant on me. Do not forget that.” The voice was deep and quiet. “Also that hood can be used for more coercive control if necessary.” A hand was clamped tightly over his mouth, covering the holes and cutting off his air. He struggled in the other man’s surprisingly strong grip, unable to breathe, the hood clinging tightly to his face now, but the hand was removed. “Follow me.” The unseen man took him further into the house, then they turned right and another door opened. There was cooler air here; must be the garage, Rob thought. He was pushed forward, into the rear footwell of a car. The door closed, and they set off.
Five minutes into the drive Rob realised that he was not alone in the back of the vehicle – he jumped as a tentative hand stroked up the inside of his leg and stopped at his crotch. Reflexively, his knees snapped together, trapping the hand between his thighs. The fingers paused, then slowly pulled out, felt around, found his soft cock, and began to play with it inexpertly, and so lightly that it seemed that whoever was doing it was frightened it might suddenly explode.
Rob was an average horny 23-year old, who hadn’t cum for a few days, and so his cock responded quickly. As it grew and hardened, the hand followed the developing bulge, teasing it, the fingertips hardly touching the leather. But light as they were, Rob could feel everything . He had many pairs of leather jeans, and these were the thinnest and the tightest of them all; he’d been so horny at home that he’d chosen them almost without thinking. They were not biking jeans – they were unlined, far too tight, and offered no protection at all – they were usually the jeans he wore when he was sat in front of the computer looking at porn – he could keep himself very close just by lightly stroking his cock through them with one fingertip. But having somebody else doing it was, he was finding out, a very different thing. He was beginning to get worried that he might cum.
He was saved by the driver’s voice. “Ni-, that’s enough. He doesn’t know where we are any more, so leave him alone now.”
Rob thought he heard a petulant tongue-click of annoyed disappointment, but the hand was removed.
Eventually the car arrived at their destination – wherever that was. Rob had been keeping track of their route in his mind’s eye until that hand had broken his concentration and made him lose his way. He suspected that had been intentional.
He was led out into another building, up a flight of stairs and into what sounded like an empty room. The door closed, and he heard the driver guy’s heavy footsteps going back down the stairs.
He stood there for a while, then walked around very carefully, exploring. Because his hands were restrained behind him it made this difficult, but he recognised a bed when he bumped into it. Apart from it, the room seemed to be empty. He was searching blindly for the door when he heard more footsteps approaching. These were booted, but sounded lighter.
The door opened, then closed again. Rob waited. He assumed that he was no longer alone, but he couldn’t hear anything.
Nothing happened for a while, and then he jumped as hands touched his hooded head, exploring, turning it one way and then the other. Seemingly uncertainly, they began to run slowly over his leathers – his upper body, his arms, waist, legs and boots. Then he was gently embraced and he felt his jacket being licked.
He was turned round, and embraced again, this time from behind. For a moment one of his cuffed hands brushed over a bump behind him that could only be a hard cock in leather jeans. From the way he moved, Rob felt that this man was smaller and much lighter than Driver Guy.
Arms pushed him gently onto the bed. After a few moments fingers touched his leg. They started at the top of his bike boot and stroked slowly up to his crotch. There, they searched around until they found his cock, and started to tease it. Rob couldn’t be sure, but the way they were working on him, it felt very much as if this was the same man that had been with him in the back of the car. The guy seemed to be anything but expert, and Rob got the feeling that this was the first time he’d ever worked on a cock-bulge. His touch was somehow cautious, and very, very light, as if he were handling something incredibly fragile – to the extent that there were moments when he couldn’t actually feel it at all. Rob felt his cock stiffening quickly.
This was very different to the way his girls played with him: by now they’d have had his jeans off and would be sitting on him, or sucking or pumping his cock. He found it intensely frustrating, and also intensely horny. It was as if the guy were teasing the actual leather of his jeans rather than the hard cock underneath it. He realised that this was turning him on like fuck.
After a while, he was getting worryingly close. “You’d better stop – or I’ll cum.” He said into the hood.
The hand was removed, nothing happened for ten seconds, then it went back to his cock and resumed playing with it, every bit as lightly.
Rob felt himself getting close again. “Stop!” He thought he heard a giggle.
The same thing happened: the hand stopped, ten seconds later it started again.
“Stop! You’ll make me cum!” He twisted his body to get his cock away from the hand. There was a pause, then he felt the mattress move as the guy got onto the bed. He knelt astride Rob’s knees and sat on them, then the fingers were back.
“Stop!” Rob managed to twist away from the hand again, although it was more difficult with the guy sitting on his legs. Brief seconds later the softly teasing fingers were back. He twisted again – he was getting very close – but this time the fingers followed him. They were stroking even more lightly and slowly now – if that were possible - but they didn’t stop. His breath was coming more rapidly, and he couldn’t keep still as the fingertips stroked and caressed the length of his cock through the soft black leather. He was very aware that orgasm was not far away, and with nothing more than the feather-light touch of those fingers, it was quickly getting closer again. He didn’t want to cum in his jeans but if this guy kept on doing that the matter would be academic.
The door opened. “No Ni- No, don’t make him cum. Enough for today. Time to take him back.”
Rob heard an irritable sigh, and the man got off the bed. He was left alone for a while, then taken back to the first house and his bike the same way that he’d been brought here – but this time, instead of the hand to distract him in the car, headphones were put on his head, with loud rock music in them. They did the job.
Driver Guy told him that there would be another text in a few days, at the same time in the evening, and the procedure would be the same. The man unlocked the padlock and the cuffs before moving him into the porch. “Leave the hood on the table.”
Rob nodded. “Ok.”
The inner door closed and locked behind him before he could get the hood off. As he rode away on the bike his cock was hard. That had actually been interesting, he thought, but probably only because he’d been so horny today.
He’d had to have a wank as soon as he’d got home, but he’d intentionally not cum since then – he’d wanted to be horny again for the next one – and he hoped it wouldn’t be long.
The text arrived two days later. He was supposed to be seeing Evie that evening but he’d cancelled it as soon as he’d got the message, telling her he thought he’d got a cold coming on.
To his surprise, he was enjoying this. It was by no means his usual kind of sexual encounter, but it was interesting, and fucking horny. For a start, the way he was hooded in the car and prevented from knowing where he was being taken played into the occasional fantasies he had about about kidnap; then there was the fact that leather was definitely involved – the man who’d teased him had been wearing leather; and there was something about his touch that was unbelievably fucking sexy. It was fumbling and far too light, but (or rather probably because of that, he realised) it was deeply horny. It was also very frustrating. Rob was straight, and not used to having his cock played with through his jeans; girls invariably wanted them off him asap. But leather turned him on like crazy – if he was honest it was the main reason he’d got himself a bike in the first place – so that was fine, and he knew from his own hours watching porn on the computer that a very light touch worked wonderfully through that thin leather. He was beginning to wish that some of the girls he went with would do it.
And being hooded had been interesting too, once he’d got over his nerves and had been able to think about it. He’d seen various kinds on the net, but he’d had no direct experience of them. He’d never realised how fucking helpless being hooded made you. Even if his hands were free, with that thing locked onto him he wouldn’t stand a chance of escaping, and he suspected that even the smaller of those two men could easily get the better of him in a fight with the leather blindfolding him.
But he wanted to know who these guys were. His curiosity was killing him. There was Driver Guy, who he felt was quite big and powerful, and then there was the other one who, he thought, wasn’t as big. And they went to great lengths to ensure that he could never identify them, or know where they took him.
He thought about the little padlock. He’d seen them on bondage websites, and he knew that most of them opened with the same key. He thought about getting one - it might be possible for him to get his cuffed hands to the front if he could stretch them over his boots, and then he’d be able to get the hood off. He might do that one time when they left him alone. Although he was enjoying this so much that part of him didn’t want to spoil it, he just had to know who these men were and why they were doing this. He ordered one of the little padlocks, with its key.
The format was the same as last time, and he was taken, hooded and cuffed, to the same room. The padlock and key hadn’t arrived yet, and anyway this time he wasn’t left alone: Driver Guy stayed with them.
He recognised the touch as, after stroking and caressing the front, sides and back of his biker jacket for a long time, the hands made their way very slowly up his leather legs to his cock: it was the same man who’d played with him before. Rob stood there, his hands cuffed behind his back, moaning quietly into the hood as the fingers teased his legs, his arse and his cock-bulge through his thin leather jeans. It went on for some time.
“You’d better stop - I’m close.” His voice sounded very loud to him inside the hood.
“Ah. Right. Don’t make him cum, Nick. That’s the last thing you want to do.”
That was the first time Driver Guy had spoken today. So, Rob thought, the one playing with him was called Nick. Ok.
Footsteps to the far side of the room. There was quiet whispering, but he couldn’t make out what was being said.
Then he did hear: “I’m not sure that’s a good idea – he looks like a strong boy.” That was Driver Guy.
More whispering. Then heavier footsteps came back. “I’m going to unfasten your handcuffs.” Driver Guy’s voice was stern. “Remember you still can’t get the hood off, so don’t try anything. Ok?”
Rob nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
With the cuffs off, he put his hands by his sides. He heard the bed creak as someone got onto it, and then Driver Guy made him kneel on the floor by the edge of the mattress. Nick took Rob’s left hand and pulled it slowly towards his crotch. Rob felt the man’s leather jeans under his fingers again; they felt very smooth, and tight. He couldn’t find the guy’s cock at first, until Nick directed his fingers onto it, then he began to tease and stroke it. The cock responded immediately and the guy moved on the bed. Rob had only been playing with it for a few seconds when Nick convulsed and came.
Driver Guy had been standing close behind him all the time, and now Rob felt his hand on his shoulder as if he was going to pull him away. But when he saw Rob’s fingers slow to a very gentle massage as it followed the end of Nick’s orgasm, he let him continue. When Nick’s breathing had returned to normal, Driver Guy pulled Rob to his feet. “Better get you back.”
His wrists were cuffed again and he was led back to the car.
After a much-needed wank, he sat down with a beer and thought about what he knew – and realised that it wasn’t much more than last time. Two men: he knew that the first one – Driver Guy - was strong: that first time, when he’d held him with his hand over Rob’s hooded face, cutting off his air, Rob hadn’t been able to move at all in the guy’s powerful grip. The other man was smaller, and called Nick. And whether through intent or inexperience, Nick had the most wonderful touch Rob had ever felt in his fucking life. Even thinking about it now, at home, got him hard.
The little padlock arrived the following morning. He put the key carefully into the back pocket of his leather jeans.
His phone pinged with a text at 7pm on Saturday evening, and he put Evie off again. It had been five days since the last message and Rob was desperate for a wank. He already had his leathers on – he was living in them these days, even wore them for work because they felt so horny – and he grabbed his helmet and set off.
They were on their own in the bare room this time, and Nick immediately got down to some serious teasing.
They’d only been at it for a few minutes but once Nick had started on his cock Rob had very quickly got to the point where he needed to cum. The guy’s touch was amazing – every little movement of his fingertips sent shock-waves of pleasure through the boy. Rob was squirming on the bed, his wrists cuffed behind his back. He wanted to cum, but even more than that, at the moment, he wanted this to go on for a lot, lot longer. He knew he was getting close, so he moved his cock bulge away from the hands. In previous sessions this had made Nick pause for a while, but this time the guy was having none of it. He followed Rob’s movements on the bed, getting at the leather bulge from whatever angle presented itself as the boy struggled on the bed increasingly desperately to get it away. From the front, from the side, between his thighs from the back when he half-rolled over – Rob just couldn’t avoid the fingers. When it was necessary Nick pushed him back into position forcefully – but then, when the fingertips made contact again with the head of his cock-bulge, that frustrating, gentle touch was back. Tiny, slow, light strokes right on his most unbearably sensitive spots. Not once did Nick grip his cock or rub it firmly. And it wasn’t just his bulge: Nick stroked and teased the boy’s legs, his arse, his thighs, his perineum, his balls – oh god, those teasing fingertips on his balls… – but always he returned to the thin, tightly-stretched leather over the boy’s bulging cock.
What was it about this guy? Rob wondered. Everything the bastard did to him was turning him on; he even found that struggling to get away from his hands – and being hopelessly unable to do so – was making him even hornier. He couldn’t use his hands and he couldn’t see to defend himself because they’d got him hooded. It was so fucking unfair. Infuriatingly, frustratingly, deliciously unfair.
Every so often Rob would hear a giggle as his blindfolded attempts at defence proved inadequate and Nick managed to find a way to get to his horny cock-head yet again despite Rob’s struggling (he almost fell off the bed at one point but Nick pulled him back). The guy seemed not only to be loving the fact that Rob was so hopelessly disadvantaged, he also appeared to be intent on making him cum very, very slowly indeed. Death by a Thousand Cuts? This was Orgasm by a Thousand Touches. Rob was re-evaluating his earlier opinion that this guy was inexperienced.
He was going to cum – he knew it. Just five more seconds…
He heard the door open. Driver Guy was back. Time to go.
Rob wailed.
Back at home he sat on his chair, his leather jeans around his ankles. He was panting and wiping the spunk off his bare thighs – he hadn’t even made it as far as his bedroom. Fucking hell, he thought, that had been the most horny session of any of them. In fact it had been the most horny thing he’d ever experienced in his life. Ever.
He was looking forward to the next text.
It came four days later. The wait had been impossible, but at last he was back in the bare room.
To his surprise, the driver removed the handcuffs. “The other guy wants you just hooded. Thinks it’ll be more frustrating for you.” The door closed and Rob stood in the empty room. Perfect, he thought. Now was his chance. Should he try to get the hood off or not? He knew he had to – he might not get another opportunity. He waited until the footsteps had faded, and checked blindly around the room to make sure Nick wasn’t there.
He got the key out of his pocket. It was harder than he’d thought it would be, but he finally managed to get his cuffed hands over his booted feet and the padlock open. He unfastened the neck strap and pulled the hood off.
The room was indeed bare except for the bed. The walls were grey emulsion and the skirting boards were white. He waited.
Footsteps – two pairs, coming up the stairs. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his leather jeans and stood, trying to look sexy.
The door opened.
“Fuck!”
“Shit.”
“Oh God…”
This was all said at the same time. The three guys stared at each other, open-mouthed, none of them able to move.
Driver Guy was the muscular man with the buzz-cut hair and stubble beard from the delivery in Park Street – Rob remembered him now; he’d said his name was Chris. Tee shirt and jeans. But it was the other one that Rob was staring at. Nick was a boy. A young boy. Fourteen? Fifteen at the most, Rob thought. Startled blue eyes looked out from under a short, untidy mop of mousey brown hair, and he was wearing full biker leathers.
“A fucking minor?” Rob was horrified.
The driver – Chris – was looking like his world had collapsed. He was shaking his head. “No,” he said with a sigh, “He’s not underage. Nick was sixteen last month.”
“So what the fuck is going on?”
Chris sighed again. “I suppose you’d better come downstairs.”
They went down into the small living room. “Sit down, and I’ll try to explain.”
The chairs were old, but comfortable enough. “Nick’s the son of a friend of mine. He’s mad about bikes and I take him out for rides on my Kwak. As you’ve probably gathered, he’s got a thing for leather. And he likes boys. It was his sixteenth birthday last month – on the first day that we got you, in fact. He’d said he wanted something special for his sixteenth – he wanted a biker to play with. One who couldn’t see him and wouldn’t know he was so young. Not any biker, though – it had to be you. He’d seen you on your bike. He’d even hidden behind bushes watching you coming and going from your house, and he wanted you. He’s got a… thing for you, it seems.”
Chris wiped his hand over his face. “We’d been planning this for ages. Thing is, you see, the little brat’s got some… photographs of me and a woman. A woman who is not my wife. He said that unless I arranged this for him somehow, he’d show the photos to my wife, my employer and all our friends.” He shook his head miserably. “And you know exactly what that feels like, don’t you.” He trailed off into silence.
“Where is your wife?”
“She’s at the other house. We’ve got three: the one we live in, the one we used to get you into the car, and this one. That second one, where you parked your bike, we rent out - it’s waiting for a tenant at the moment, and this one’s going to be refurbished soon, for selling. I inherited it.” The man sighed. “Anyway, those photos Nick’s got gave me the idea of how to get you here. We had to get four late deliveries from your company before we finally got the driver we wanted: you.”
“You could have just asked me.” There was a slight smile on Rob’s lips.
The man looked up. “Oh yeah. And you’d have let a perverted sixteen-year old boy with a leather fetish tie you up and play with you.” The tone was sarcastic.
Rob looked at Nick. “Now I know what it feels like, yes, I would.”
Chris and Nick blinked in unison. There was silence.
Rob looked at Chris. “It sounded like you were getting off as well on what he was doing to me.”
Chris glanced at Nick, then his embarrassed gaze went back to the coffee table. “No, not really. Well… He’s got some strange turn-ons. I’ve seen from the way he played with you that he’s a born cock-teaser.” The man’s face was starting to go red. “Look, I’m straight. I’m married, Ok? But when he was doing that to you, through your leather jeans, and you couldn’t see, you didn’t know who was doing it to you, and you couldn’t get away from it… It was… horny. I was getting into it. I’m sorry.”
Rob smiled now. “I understand that. Don’t worry about it. I’m straight as well, but that boy has got a hell of a touch. I’ve had wanks at home thinking about the feel of his fingers through my jeans.”
Chris looked up. “Really?”
“Really. And the reason I was trying to get away from his hands – at least to start with – was because I didn’t want to cum so that he could keep on doing that to me forever.” Rob chuckled. “And then I found that even the struggling to get away from him was turning me on as well.”
“Oh.” Chris looked surprised.
Rob looked at Nick. The boy had been sitting there staring at him with wide, worshipping, blue eyes. “Would you still like to play with me, Nick?”
Nick swallowed. “Oh yes,” he whispered. “But bet you don’t fancy me.”
“Well, I’m not into boys, but somehow you look cute – and hot – in that leather. And I’ve got a big thing for leather. I also love being tied up – I do that sometimes to myself when I’m wanking - and I like being hooded, not being able to see, not knowing what’s happening, although nobody’s ever done that to me before. I found out when you first did it that it’s very, very sexy. I love the unfairness of it. And you’ve got a fucking amazing touch: it’s like you know exactly how to work on a cock through leather jeans. Drives me nuts. I love it. So, if you want to do more of that to me, that’s fine. Only let me come straight here rather than the car thing – although that was horny too.”
Chris was about to reply but Rob cut him off. “Oh, and that video. I hope there’s only one copy, and I want to watch you delete it.”
“There’s only the one. And you can watch me do it. I didn’t take your contacts, and I wouldn’t have sent it to anybody even if I had.”
“Ok.” Rob stood up. “Well, the night is still young. I want you to tie me up properly, get that hood back on me, and then you, Nicky boy, I want you to get off on me, get off on the leather, tease me to insanity – but do not let me cum however much I ask you to let me. Don’t let me cum. But make me fucking need to. Is that Ok?”
Chris breathed a deep sigh of relief. Nick stood up – and his hard little cock was visible under his shiny leather jeans. “I’m going to make you beg for orgasm, biker” he said.
Rob grinned. “Very probably.”
“But you’re not going to get it.”
Chris stood up too. “Can I watch?”
“You can help. Believe me, somebody’s gonna have to hold me down.”
Chris smiled. “Oh,” he said slowly, “I can certainly do that.”
Rob ran his eyes over the man’s substantial muscles. “I thought you might be able to.”
Chris and the boy took him upstairs.
Rob was struggling like fuck. But Chris was lying on the bed on his right-hand side. He’d got one leg between Rob’s and over the left booted ankle, the other holding the other leg down, an arm under the boy’s back gripping Rob’s left wrist and keeping it immobile, and he was lying on the biker’s right arm. This left Chris’s right hand free, and from time to time he’d use it to press the hood tight across the boy’s face, and cut off his air. There was very little Rob could do against the man’s weight and his powerful muscles – every time he managed to move a leg, or twist his body, Chris would pull him back and hold him there, accessible and vulnerable – and Nick was taking full advantage of the fact. For ages he’d been teasing the boy’s straining cock-bulge: he seemed to be intent on finding out just how lightly he could stroke the head, caress it and scratch it with his fingernails and Rob still be able to feel it. It was driving the boy out of his mind. He needed to cum. Oh fuck he needed to cum so badly.
Nick stopped. There was a pause, and then Rob heard the boy giggle. He felt the zip of his leather jeans being pulled down.
Very, very slowly…