The Telemachus Story Archive

There and Back Again
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



There and Back Again

I’d just moved to London. I’d spent the whole of my life so far in the rural backwater of Lincolnshire, so for a horny but totally inexperienced 18-year old boy it was a bit of a culture shock for me. I couldn’t wait to get out into the city and see the ‘leather bars’ I’d heard about. It was Saturday night, and I spent an hour getting ready – fringed leather jacket over a tight white teeshirt, skintight faded stretch-denim jeans with nothing underneath (even back then going commando turned me on wild), second-hand combat boots (I couldn’t afford new ones), and a studded leather belt. I turned the collar up on the jacket and looked at myself in the mirror. I know now that I was extremely cute in those days, but at that time I wasn’t aware of it at all; I didn’t expect anybody to take the slightest notice of me at all.

My planned itinerary was the ‘Coleherne’ bar first for a quick drink, and then onto a real leather club round the corner called the ‘Catacombs’. I intended to get off with someone there. I had no idea at all what to expect at either place, but when I got to the Coleherne I was amazed at how crowded the place was. It was basically one huge room with a bar at one end, and it was absolutely heaving with guys standing around drinking and talking, in leather jackets, leather or denim jeans, and studs. I remember standing just inside the door – I’m sure my mouth must have been hanging open at the sight in front of me – and wondering how the hell I was going to get across to the bar. I took a deep breath and waded into the crowd.

By turning sideways I was able to squeeze between the bodies and got about halfway across. Then there just seemed to be a solid wall of leather and denim in front of me and I couldn’t get any further. Guys behind me were pressing me forward and I ended up sandwiched between several guys and I couldn’t move. I’d been holding my arms at shoulder height to get them out of the way for squeezing between people, and now I couldn’t even bring them down again. I was locked solid in the crowd.

After a few moments I suddenly felt something – a hand on my thigh from behind. I tried to look round but I couldn’t turn my head enough and I couldn’t move my body at all. The hand explored the back of my right thigh, then the outside of it, the fingertips teasing lightly over the skintight denim, and then began working its way around towards my crotch. It found the bulge of my now fully-hard cock and gripped it gently. I was standing with my legs close together but at that point I felt the other hand burrowing flat between the tops of my thighs from behind. It turned face up, and the fingers came to rest on my balls. I could feel the coolenss and thickness of a leather jacket sleeve between my legs. The fingers started to move – the ones between my thighs tickling my balls, and the other one scratching over the head of my cock bulge. I didn’t want to cum – I wanted to save my spunk for later, in the leather club – but the guy behind me intended me not to be able to fight it. His fingers were gentle, but completely irresistible. I tried to get my cock away from his hands, but with the press of guys around me I couldn’t move enough. His fingers followed me wherever I moved, working on me slowly and relentlessly, milking me in my jeans. Suddenly I lost it and convulsed in orgasm. My spunk pumped out helplessly into the skintight, faded denim. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was being held up by all the pressing bodies I think I would have fallen down in a heap, but as it was, after a deep breath, I struggled on towards the bar. When I got a chance I looked behind me to see if I could identify who had made me cum but it was just a sea of faces – it could have been any one of them.

Finally I made it to the bar and after a long wait I managed to get a pint of bitter. I thought it would be a good idea to drink some of it before braving the throng again. Holding my glass up high out of danger I began to fight my way through the crowd . This time I didn’t even get halfway back to the door. A hand landed on my shoulder and I found myself facing a sexy guy in leather breeches, a heavyleather jacket with epaulettes, and jackboots. He had a leather peaked cap on his head. “Hi,” he said.

I smiled at him.

“Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“No, this is my first time here. Only got to London this morning. I’v never been in a leather bar before.”

“Is that a fact?” For a moment he seemed to be looking over my shoulder, but his eyes came back to mine. “Finish your beer.”

There wasn’t much of it left and with a couple of swallows it was gone. He took the glass from my hand and passed it to someone at his side.

“You having a good time?” He asked, as he turned back to me.

I nodded. “It’s amazing!”

“Well let’s see if we can make it better, sexy boy.”

At that moment another pair or arms went around mine, pulled them behind my back and held them there. The guy in the leather breeches sank to his knees, unzipped my jeans, and pulled them down. Before I knew what was happening my balls were in his leather-gloved hand, my cock was in his mouth and someone else’s finger was up my arse. I don’t know how many people were in on this, but yet another gloved hand gagged me from behind. My cock had been hard since the guy had first said Hi, and for some reason I got an overwhelming urge to struggle. There was laugher and chuckles of “yeah!” when I started to try to fight, and the grip on my arms got a lot tighter. The leather-gloved hand pressed harder over my mouth too. They held me helpless while the first guy milked my cock with his mouth. At that moment I felt incredibly helpless – and it was the most horny feeling I’ve ever had. With a scream into the gagging hand, I came. My body shuddered and my hips thrust backwards and forwards incontrollably as my spunk shot out of my rampant cock into the leather guy’s sucking mouth.

The hands over my face were removed, but the arms holding me pushed me down onto my knees as the guy stood up. His bulging leather crotch was exactly at my eye level, the balloons of the breeches standing out to either side. Slowly he unzipped his fly and got his cock out. I started to shake my head but then the hands were back over my mouth, gagging me once more and holding my head still. I was afraid he was going to make me suck him off, but instead he gripped his huge cock in one leather-gloved hand and started to wank himself off. All the time he was looking at me and whispering, “sexy boy. Sexy, horny boy… sucked your boy cock and made you cummmmm….. YEAHHHH!” He convulsed for a moment as his spunk pumped out and hit me in the face. It ran down the guy’s glove over my mouth and dripped onto the floor. After a moment he put his cock away and zipped his leather breeches up again. With a wink, he turned away and started chatting to a friend. I no longer existed for him. The arms holding me were gone, so I pulled my jeans up and staggered off.

I almost made it. I’d headed to the side of the room where there were slightly fewer people. There were some guys leaning against the wall there, but I stopped in front of them and turned round so I was facing the room and took a deep breath. Well, I thought, that had been an interesting night...

I actually didn’t get any further with the thought as something black and leathery was dropped over my head. Arms grabbed me and moved me sideways for a few seconds and then through a door, which closed behind us. The leather – it must have been a jacket – was kept pressed tightly around my head; I couldn’t see a thing. We came to a stop and I felt there were quite a few guys around me. Someone pulled my jacket off me, then my teeshirt, my boots and my jeans. I was naked.

I heard a voice “One, two, three!” In one swift movement the leather jacket over my head was replaced with a proper leather hood. It was done so quickly and unexpectedly that I didn’t get a chance to see anything – I had no idea who the guys were or where I was. They held me while they strapped it on tight, and I felt the click of a small padlock at the neck. Then they let me go.

I put my arms out tentatively and moved around, trying to feel. I could hear quiet laughter but my hands didn’t touch anything. I reached up to the hood, to try to get it off, but the lock prevented any tampering. “What are you going to do?” I asked nervously.

Suddenly there was leather all over me: I could feel studded jackets against my arms and back, leather jeans against my bare legs, and gloved hands all over my naked skin. They squeezed my nipples, explored my arsehole, ran over my thighs and played with my cock. Leather fingers teased my balls. I didn’t believe it, but I was getting hard again. I was pushed down onto the floor – except that it wasn’t the floor, it was a guy in full leather lying under me. He guided my cock between his legs and gripped it with his leather thighs. I could feel his hard cock bulge pressing into my abdomen. Another couple straddled us – I could feel their leather jeans and crotches against my back and legs – I was completely covered in leather. Studs bit into my legs and shoulders. I felt fast rhythmic movement above me, and seconds later the warm splash of spunk on my back. It happened again a minute after that.

They pulled me off the guy I’d been lying on and forced me to my knees. My hands were grabbed and pressed against leather bulges, and I started to work on them. They got harder under my fingers and the leather felt wonderful. After a few moments I felt the one under my right hand cum in his jeans. He was quickly replaced with a naked cock. I wanked it off. Then the same with the one on my left. More hot spunk hit my right shoulder. Some guy made me suck him off, but thankfully his cock was of a size I could handle.

After god knows how long they got me into my jeans again, and put my leather jacket back onto me as well. I lay there on the floor, hooded, waiting. Something warm hit my thigh and started to soak into the denim of my tight jeans – more spunk. And again, this time on my left knee. Over the next few minutes I counted a further six lots of spunk – all soaking into my jeans.

Surely they must all be exhausted by now, I thought. Apparently not. Fingers began stroking my body very lightly – teasingly. They were joined by more. Leather-gloved hands reached up under my leather jacket and massaged my nipples, fingers were tickling my balls and one single fingertip was teasing the head of my cock through my jeans. I was hard again – had been for a while now – and I realised that someone was intent on milking me. Something clicked in my mind – more than anything else I wanted that delicious feeling of helplessness again. I started to struggle. I fought and kicked and yelled into the hood. I was NOT going to let them milk me again! Arms tried to hold me down, but I managed to squirm out of their grip. They got me again. I flipped myself over but more arms joined the others to restrain me and those teasing fingers found my cock - all the time they were working on it through the thin, tight, stretchy denim of my jeans. I clamped my legs together and curled up into a ball – but the hand forced its way in between my thigh and my stomach and gripped my cock, the stretch jeans making it easy for him to pull it away from my body where he could get a better grip. He began to wank me off quickly and efficiently. I was hooded, helpless, couldn’t move – held down by unseen leatherguys and being milked again. Then I felt a hand between my thighs. With a scream of ecstasy I lost it. And this was the best yet. I struggled and fought as I came for the third time in less than an hour, my hot spunk jetting out into my jeans again – milked helplessly by sexy leatherguys I could feel but couldn’t see because of the black leather hood.

Finally it was over. They kept me there, hooded, until most of them had left the room. Then I was steered towards the door, and my boots thrust into my hand. The hood was unlocked and removed. I was pushed out into the throng again.

I shudder to think what I must have looked like: my jeans were soaking wet with spunk stains all over them, my hair was a mess, I’d lost my teeshirt, and I had no boots on. I found a place where there was space to bend down, and laced them on. The door was only a matter of yards away. I staggered towards it. I could feel the cool air from outside. It felt wonderful.

“You are fucking beautiful,” said a voice to my left.

I turned to face him – a biker stood there, his helmet in his hand, and his slim boyish body clad in a skintight, shiny black leather racing suit. He was gorgeous.

“Er - thank you.”

“You look like you could do with a cup of tea,” he said. “And then I’m going to tie you up and fuck you senseless”.

I blinked. After what I’d just been through?

I smiled. “Yeah, go on then.”

We stepped out into the cool night air.