The Telemachus Story Archive

The Boy in the Garage
By Hooder

The Boy in the Garage

The alarm went off at almost exactly 3 am. I squinted at the red light that was flashing on the wall, and reached out to silence the buzzer wailing close to my right ear. I’d designed the alarm myself – you can’t hear it at all in the garage, only in my bedroom. “Fuck!” I jumped out of bed, pulled on my leather jeans, bike boots and leather jacket, grabbed the baseball bat from the side of the bed and went down the stairs as fast – but as quietly – as I could.

There is a door from my studio directly into the garage. I unlocked it, switched the garage light on, and opened the door quickly, holding the bat ready.

A single figure was bent down examining the lock on the front wheel of my bike. As soon as the door opened he jumped up, looking like a startled rabbit in the sudden illumination. My mouth went dry: he was gorgeous. Mid-teens, wearing trainers; thin leather jeans with rips in; a dirty white teeshirt; and a leather jacket that had seen much better days. His jeans were so tight that even from where I was standing I could see he wasn’t wearing any underpants. My cock was already getting hard inside my leathers.

He stared at me, then made a run for the open up-and-over garage door. I got there first and pushed him against the wall.

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?”

He tried to look hard, but failed. “I was just looking...”

“Right. Attempted theft. I think the police would be interested.”

“My word against yours, mate.”

I pointed to the CCTV camera on the ceiling. He dropped both the hard act and also his shoulders. “What you gonna do?”

“Well, breaking and entering, attempted theft – you’re looking at 3 months in the nick, and that’s if you’ve got no prior convictions. If you have, it’s gonna be a lot longer...”

He kept up a bit of a hard scowl for a while, then his eyes fell and he looked like he was about to cry. “Please, mate – I’ll do anything,” he said quietly.

I considered. Well, at least I made it look like I was thinking about it. I already knew exactly what I wanted to do with this boy. “Anything?”

He nodded. “Anything.”

I closed the garage door and locked it, then took an old pillow from off the table, where it was waiting to be taken to the tip, and put it across the handlebars and the fairing of the bike. “Get on the bike. Face backwards.”

He frowned at me, then did as he was told. I picked up a bunch of cable ties and secured his feet on the rear footpegs. “Lie back,” I told him. I guided his head onto the pillow, then took his wrists and tied them to the handlebars. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“What you gonna do to me?” He was clearly very worried indeed.

I ran a finger up his thigh. “Those jeans are tight… and thin. I like teasing boys’ cocks in tight jeans.”

“Fuck off!”

I leaned close to his face. “Listen – I am not making you do anything. You have a choice. Either you lie there and keep quiet, or you’re going to prison. Up to you.”

He looked to be in an agony of indecision. Then he closed his eyes and nodded once.

I ran my finger up his thigh again, but this time I didn’t stop until it was on the bulge of his cock. I teased it. After a while I smiled to myself as I felt it begin to grow slowly under my touch. I tickled his balls and cock gently, and stroked the insides of his thighs. His cock continued to get harder until it was fully erect, and stretching the thin leather out into a very substantial bulge.

There were several rips in his jeans, and one - very conveniently – ran diagonally across the top of one thigh. But it was on the wrong side. Working through his jeans, I pushed his cock up over his stomach and across to the other side, then pushed my fingertips inside the rip, and wriggled my hand downwards until it came to the head of his cock. A moan escaped from him as I made contact with it. With my thumb on the outside of the leather and my fingers inside, I began to stroke my fingertips around the tip, while my other hand was busy tickling his balls through the thin leather jeans.

He was frowning deeply as if he wasn’t happy about this at all, but soon his hips started to hump slightly. I stopped - I wanted this to last. Using the hand that had been on his balls, I teased the shaft of his cock through the leather, just occasionally giving the head a stroke with the fingers inside the rip. His knees were opening and closing, his eyes were shut, and he was moaning with pleasure.

Because of his position, his elbows were a few inches away from his sides, so I removed both of my hands and jammed them quickly into his unprotected armpits. I tickled him through his teeshirt.

His eyes snapped open and he yelled with ticklish laughter. “AARGH! FUCK! NO! STOPPIT!”

I stopped, but left my hands were they were. After a few seconds I started again. He screamed with laughter.

Hmm. He needed to be quieter. I looked around the garage, but there was nothing much of use there, so I left him and went back into the house and ran up to the playroom. A couple of minutes later I was back, carrying a leather gag, and a blindfold. Hooding him would have been fun, but he was so cute I wanted to be able to see his gorgeous face. I got the gag into his mouth and strapped it tightly behind his head, then blindfolded him.

Then I really went to town on him. His armpits, his ribs, his pecs, abs, stomach, sides, thighs, and knees. I went from one to the other unpredictably, tickling him slowly and scientifically. I’m an expert at tickling boys. It’s a good thing the bike had a solid centre-stand, because he was thrashing about like a madman. Screams, yells, and what was undoubtedly begging and pleading were coming from around the gag, but the noise levels were quite acceptable.

Every now and then I’d stop the tickle torture, and go back to working on his cock – which went soft every time I tickled him – until it was back to full erection. It hardened every time very quickly when my fingers started to work on it.

I was a bit ambivalent about what I wanted to do: on the one hand I wanted to punish the little bastard for trying to steal my bike, but on the other I wanted to give this beautiful boy intense pleasure. I also wanted to get all over him – he was so fucking sexy and he was turning me on like crazy. At the moment I was settling for the tickle-torture / cock-teasing compromise.

After a while I thought I’d probably punished him enough, so I concentrated all my efforts on turning him on. I slowly teased his tight-jeaned legs from the top of his trainers up to the tops of his thighs – the leather was so thin I knew he could feel the lightest touch through it; I worked on his balls and perineum, and I kept him as close to orgasm as I dare while making very sure he couldn’t actually cum.

I took the blindfold and gag off him, and looked at him. He was a very beautiful boy. With one finger just stroking his cock very slowly, I bent down and brushed my lips to his. Whether it was because he was so close to cumming, or what, I didn’t know – but he tentatively returned my kiss. After a moment we kissed properly, and hard. I devoured him.

I wanted to make him cum, right there and then – but another thought occurred to me. I returned my attention to his cock and got him as close as I possibly dare to cumming, then took my hands away. I picked up a Stanley knife and cut the cable ties off his ankles, then his wrists. His right hand instantly went to his cock – but I held it away. He tried with his left, but I stopped that one as well.

“I gotta cum!”

I helped him off the bike, pressed him close to me, holding his wrists gently behind his back, and gave his cock another stroke through his jeans with my fingers. I kissed him slowly again.

“If you want, I’ll take you up to my playroom. It’s a lot more fun than this garage. There’s lots of bondage gear to keep horny boys helpless while I tease them. And while I make them cum...”

His eyes widened. “Oh fuck...” He disengaged his hands from mine, put his arms around me a pulled me even closer. Then he kissed me. “Where’s this fucking playroom…?” He said.