Chapter 2

Adam snaps me out of my reverie. “Jake, it’s amazing what you’re doing for that kid.” He pays our lunch bill and we head out for a walk on a beautiful May afternoon.

“He’s brought just as much to my life.”

“I know. But it’s a step you don’t have to take. You just want to.”

“It does make certain things easier,” I say. “Like adding him to my health insurance, getting him a dental plan, making him my heir if anything were to happen to me, it simplifies tax complications.”

Adam bumps his shoulder into mine as we walk down the street, “Those are all good reasons for what you’re doing, but none of them are the real reason. You two love each other. And that’s why you’re amazing.”

That Friday night, the night before the party, I have a date. My date is with my lover and my lover insists that tonight is all about me. I got to pick the restaurant and our late night fun is all about me too. A fulfillment of my fantasies. Who am I to protest?

I am led to my lovers’ bedroom where I am instructed to lie down on my back. I do so. I am told to grasp at the bedposts, so I comply. A blindfold is tied around my eyes and I can see nothing. I hear two metallic snaps and my left wrist is handcuffed to a bedpost. Two more clicks and now so is my right. The blindfold makes me feel vulnerable and a little afraid. I trust my lover, but still. This experience is pushing the limits of thrilling.

I can’t see a thing, but I feel my lover’s eyes on me. Examining me. Scrutinizing. One finger traces my jawline and even that feels electric. There is another brief pause before I feel a weight at the foot of the bed. Hands begin to work the lace of my left shoe.

“Be nice,” I demand.

“You are in no position to level demands,” is the reply I get.

My shoe slips off. I don’t understand how, but the blindfold makes my foot more sensitive. My feet and legs are not cuffed or tied or chained, but I keep still. My lover rewards my compliance by not tickling me. Two hands grip, grab, squeeze and massage my left foot. Even still, I gasp and twitch until I get used to the aggressive touch. Soon it will be something other than a foot that gets this rough treatment. I’m looking forward to it. I’m already hardening in my jeans. Suddenly my sock is stripped off, but still, no tickling. I get caressed, stroked and massaged. Then a tongue glides up my arch and I gasp for air. Each toe gets sucked and I’m in blissful delirium. The whole routine is repeated with my right foot and I am almost fully erect by the time the program concludes.

The weight of the body shifts northward and straddles me just below the waist. I am still splayed with my arms secured above my head. I have never felt so vulnerable in my whole life. I can tell that my shirt has ridden up exposing a strip of skin. A finger swipes across that strip and I flinch and laugh.

My lover apologizes, explaining that the temptation was too great. Meanwhile, my nipples are rock hard and my arms and stomach are covered in goosebumps. I feel hands go to work at my shirt buttons, one at a time, slowly and methodically. When the last button is undone, my shirt gets spread wide open exposing my naked torso. I again feel eyes dancing all over me. My goosebumps do not dissipate. I am overcome in a wave of self-consciousness.

I tell my lover, “I really should do more crunches.”

“Don’t you dare!” I’m ordered. “If you mess with perfection you will be punished.”

Why do I feel like I would enjoy my punishment? My lover is too kind. I am not perfect. The hairs around my nipples have not been waxed recently. The treasure trail from my navel leading to points southward has not been groomed in far too long. And my 30″ waist should be a 28″ waist. But my captor doesn’t seem to mind my imperfections. And then hands are on me. Stroking, rubbing and dancing. The hands grapple at my button fly and within eight seconds, my jeans are around my knees. My underwear is still on, but my tentpole is testing its strength.

Fingertips lightly dance their way up my inner thighs into the legs of my boxer briefs. I stifle a squeal and bite my lower lip. Fingernails stroke my scrotum from both sides and my body convulses from the shocking sensation. That blindfold is amazing. If I wasn’t quite at full mast before, I certainly am now. My underwear joins my jeans around my knees.

For a full minute, nothing happens. This is a torturous minute. I again feel those eyes on me. What is the plan? What’s coming next? Blindfolded as I am, all I can do is guess. Eventually, the hands grip my manhood and instinctually, my arms fight helplessly to free themselves. Why am I fighting? It feels amazing. It’s an involuntary response, triggered mostly by the blindfold. After a few minutes of being grabbed, squeezed and tugged like modeling clay, the hands release me. I am left for a moment to catch my breath.

I get kissed on the neck and sprout more goosebumps on my arms. I get kissed on the mouth and desperately want to wrap my arms around my lover and entangle fingers in hair, but my cuffed wrists prevent me. Our tongues get acquainted and have their own mini wrestling match. Precum leaks out of my raging hardon as my tongue gets dominated.

My left nipple gets a kiss and I moan. My right nipple gets a suck and a swirl and I groan. I get kissed to the left and then to the right of my navel and I giggle. I can’t wait to turn the tables on my lover with the blindfold. It keeps me guessing at what’s coming next and I almost always guess wrong. And the surprise makes each contact so intense. I’m buzzing with sensitivity.

Fingertips are back to stroking and scratching my scrotum. My ball sack immediately tightens and shrivels in response and my body jolts from the surprise. That tongue finds my navel and plunges into my shallow innie hole. Then it follows the trail down toward my treasure. This time I know what’s coming, but it doesn’t matter. When the warm, wet mouth slides over and down my length, My whole body racks in excruciating delight. Lips seal around my base and suction surrounds my steel rod. The tongue does an expert dance just below the glans and a weaker man would be shooting his load by now. Not me. I can take it. And I love every second of it. It’s fifteen sensational minutes before my lover gives up in defeat and pulls off of me. I glisten from saliva as my ramrod shaft points skyward, bobbing with the beat of my heart.

My lover says, “I should work at your hardware store. I too know the right tool for the job.”

Uh-oh. Victory was sweet while it lasted, but I am about to be defeated. I know what’s coming next. “Not the ‘instrument’!” I plead.

My lover says nothing. All is quiet for a moment and then I feel the drizzle of lubrication. Oh no. Maybe I should have allowed the talented mouth to win. I may have won that battle, but I am about to lose this war. In spectacular fashion. After a too-long anticipatory wait, the tool is put to use. It is a snug, tight fit as it closes all around me. It’s not just any fleshlight, it is designed with evil bumps and ridges that compare to nothing in nature. As it makes the seven inch journey down the length of my ramrod shaft, my eyes roll back into my head. Too much pressure. Too many grooves. Too many bumps. My hands grip the bedposts and I plead for mercy.

That was a mistake. My lover giggles. The torturous device glides up and down me ten times and I’m seeing stars. Then the motion changes. Twisting is incorporated into the up and down glides and the bumps inside are attacking my vulnerable organ in an unfair, unbearable manner. I can’t help it…I scream. My toes curl, my body sweats, my balls tighten and I pump load after load of my seed into that evil device. The twisting is relentless and it continues until I almost pass out. Until I’m drained and have nothing left to give. Until I’m left gasping for air.

The most intense orgasm of my life winds down and I can breathe again. My toes slowly uncurl. I hear a click and my right arm falls free from its shackle. Another click and my left arm is free too. There is not an ounce of energy left in my body and my jelly arms are not even capable of removing the blindfold. All I can do is wait for my lover to do it for me.

Before doing so, I get kissed again. Gently. Tenderly. Lovingly enough that first I feel a tingle in my chest followed by the slightest twitch of life in my spent cock. Finally, the blindfold comes off. It’s almost full dark in the room, but my eyes still take a minute to adjust.

My lover’s grinning face materialized one inch in front of mine, “That was the most fun I’ve had in months!”

I grin back, “Tomorrow, it’s your turn!”

The handcuffs and blindfold are new additions to our…routine. I was the guinea pig. As fun as tonight was, I am very much looking forward to turning the tables.

My lover kisses me again, “Just remember, I took it easy on you.”

“Yes! You were completely at my mercy. I didn’t even tickle you! I could have. I wanted to. You were all helpless and cute.”

“I’m 34. I stopped being cute a decade ago.”

“Sorry, but you totally haven’t.”

“You might not have tickled me, but you used the evil instrument. I was doing so well. I was resisting your attacks. I was winning the battle. I could have held out for hours.”

I get another kiss, “You wouldn’t want it any other way. You call that thing ‘evil’, but you love it and you know it. It gets you every time.”

“It’s not the ‘thing’… It’s you. You know how and when to… You’re like a maestro. You played me perfectly.”

Adam smiles and spoons up behind me, cradling me safe and warm into the curves of his body. He says, “You know I’m thrilled for you and Dante.”

He sighs, “The kid just needs to get out more. Our nighttime fun has been way too infrequent since you took him in six months ago.”