Hi there. I've eventually decided to post some stories that I've written in the last few years.
This is posted in this section for a reason. It is of course fiction, not a handbook for tugs. Fictional characters can do silly things and come out unscathed, real people much less so.
It is also very explicit. These fictional boys usually like each other and tugs, and aren't too shy about it.
I'll start with the Sweaty Tie-Up saga. I had posted the first one but can't find it in the archives.
So far, there are three completed stories in the series:
Sweaty Tie-Up in Satiny shorts, 15,000 words, which is a repost
Sweaty Tie-Up at the Football Club, 19,000 words, never before posted
Sweaty Tie-Up: Discipline School, 30,000 words
And another story is in the works.
I'll repost the first one and chapters 1&2 of the Football Club one. I'll post once a week from there.
There'll be other stories in this section too.
Sweaty Tie-up in Satiny Shorts
Chapter 1: Why stay indoors on a warm sunny afternoon?
Hi, I thought this would be a good place to tell a story that took place a while back - in the eighties. I lived in the remote suburbs of Paris. It was a sunny summer afternoon. I was just back from summer camp, having been gone two weeks, and I decided to visit my neighbours from down the street.
They enjoyed football – soccer - as I did so I thought I'd ask them if they'd play. They were three brothers, the elder, Philippe, was older than I was by a year. The two other ones, Cédric and Hervé (names changed to protect the not so innocent) were younger by two and three years. I was fourteen at the time myself, though I didn't look my age. My voice had not broken yet; though three feet lower, things had started changing a bit, if you see what I mean.
I rang the bell and Cédric came to open. We greeted quickly and I asked:
“In for playing some football?”
“Well, no sorry, Hervé and I gonna have to leave in half an hour; we're going to Steph's for the afternoon.”
Steph was my nemesis at school, and I had no intention to ask if I could tag along.
“Is Philippe in, though?”
He hesitated. I was quite eager to spend the afternoon with someone, since my own brothers were away. I wouldn't have minded playing football with Philippe, or just hanging around rather than spending an afternoon getting bored. On top of it, Philippe was quite a hot guy. He wasn't very tall, but he was rather well built. And as he wasn't a really good football player, I'd win.
Cédric let me in, and as we entered the living room, he asked his brother.
“Hey, Hervé, do you think Phil would be glad to see Grégory?”
“Hell yeah, everybody's always glad to see Grégory.”
I didn't blush, for I was quite aware of being the cute guy in school. I got offered to go out enough by girls to know this. And I had started noticing a few guys checking me out too. I just ignored the weird comment, though.
“Come with, he's in his room.”
The three of us climbed the stairs, all dressed in our football outfits. Them in green shorts, me in red. Their jerseys were yellow; mine was blue. All the gear was Adidas, and in these years, it was quite tight and shiny. I followed them inside Philippe's room, and there my jaw dropped. Not because of what Philippe wore, he was dressed as we were, his Beckenbauer shorts were black, his jersey yellow, and he wore black shoes with long yellow nylon socks; but I had never seen someone as thoroughly trussed up on a chair as Philippe was. There were neat coils of rope of three different colours wrapping him at the shoulders, chest, waist, the top of his thighs, above and below his knees, with his ankles tied to a chair rung too.
“Where did you get all this rope?” I asked.
“Philippe got it from a bin next to the climbing club,” Cédric answered, “They must have bought some new ones, so they threw out tons of them.”
I approached to get a look at the rope. It came from various batches, but there were more coils on the desk behind Philippe, whose eyes only could follow me around. As I came closer, I could see his head pinned to the chair back with two belts, one over his forehead and one over his mouth, a small cushion between his skull and the chair's slat.
We had played quite a few games with someone ending up hands tied behind the back, or tied to a tree with twine, but boy, this time it was serious business. Seeing this teen - more mature than I was, he had quite hairy legs – all powerless did cause some slight tingle inside my satiny shorts.
“Why did you gag him like this?” I wondered as I saw that there was a copious amount of tape underneath the leather belt, and probably something stuffing his mouth.
“We leave the window open, so it doesn't get too hot, and we don't want him to be heard outside.” Hervé exclaimed.
From the annoyed grunt Philippe produced, I doubted he would have really called for help even if he'd been able too.
At the same time, venting the room was a good idea, for the prisoner was sweaty, and it smelled once I leaned over him to look at the rope work. Hervé went on explaining that since Philippe had found the ropes, just after I left for summer camp, he had had them practice tying him up. So they'd gotten better, since in the beginning he always managed to escape. But as they were about to leave, they'd have to untie him because they couldn't leave him bound and gagged by himself. It sure was strange to say all these things in a very matter-of-fact way, but I just listened to him and his brother occasionally adding a detail or two.
It was Cédric who actually voiced out what I didn't dare ask: “But if you stay with him this afternoon, Grégory, maybe Philippe can keep playing the prisoner? You'd like that, wouldn't you Philippe?”
The unintelligible grunt could have meant yes or no, but it didn't stop us from interpreting it as yes anyway. “We should move him a bit, he's been tied up like this since this morning,” Hervé suggested.
“Good idea,” Cédric added. I helped a bit as the two siblings went on working on their brother, and I took in all the knots and technique I could from their expert job. Soon, Philippe was trussed up like a turkey on his belly over his bed. They had bundled him up in a tight hog tie, his hands almost reaching his crossed ankles, his knees spread wide, which gave a nice view on his round and muscular buttocks wrapped in the black nylon.
Cédric and Hervé neatly put away the left-over ropes, rolling them in tidy coils.
“OK, we gotta go, untie him a bit before five, that's when the parents should be back.”
I looked at the alarm clock on the night table. 2:30: this left me quite a little bit of time to play with Philippe. Literally.
I started by taunting him for letting his little brothers make him a prisoner, then threatening to take him to the nearby woods and leave him tied up to a tree. Then, as I came a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the mattress, I started running my fingers along his flanks. I wasn't aware of this fact beforehand, but Philippe was ticklish. He squirmed around quite a bit, but I didn't quit.
It was fun to see him writhing and making muffled sounds only, thanks to the well-packed mouth and the sticky tape trapping the wadding. I had gone on for almost half an hour when I stopped. I put Philippe on the side. His face was all red. Years later, I was surprised to hear that tickling someone who was gagged could be dangerous, but, well, if all the stupid things I did when I was a kid had turned out for the worst, I wouldn't be here to tell you about this.
He was breathing heavily through his nose. He looked at me with pleading eyes and grunted something. He looked uncomfortable.
I decided to remove his gag to find out if there was a problem. It dawned on me that I was in charge of Philippe on all accounts. I slowly peeled the numerous strips of tape plastered over his lower face and collected the spittle covered mass of cloth that was trapped inside his mouth. Damn! Black Speedos! This made for a big ball of material.
“Hi Grégory,” were his first words. Not remembering whether I had greeted him also, I went on straight to the question:
“Uh… I need to pee.”
Dang! Would I be able to tie him up back again if I left him go to the bathroom? Or would he refuse? It was too much fun keeping him this way. I made a bold move as I rushed to the bathroom and fetched a plastic bowl.
“Hey! What the…”
“Shhh,” I said putting my hand over his mouth as I came back. “I won't let my prisoner trick me into freeing him. But I don't want a messy accident,” I laughed.
He was still on his side, so I grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down as I could, lowering his briefs at the same time. As I didn't manage too well, since his position didn't make things too easy, I plunged my hand inside his briefs and took his tool out. It was turgid all right, and sweaty, and it did smell of dick but I pretended not to notice.
Actually, I tried to convince myself that the boner I sported for the last forty-five minutes had nothing to do with the hot piece of maleness I had under my thumb.
“Go ahead,” I said in an assured voice.
Though my hand had long left his mouth, he kept quiet. He closed his eyes, and I felt his dick soften slightly – he must have been a master at yoga and self-control –and he relieved himself. I put his apparel back once he was done, went to empty the bowl of piss into the sink, rinsed it, washed my hands and came back inside the room.
I had not tickled Philippe's feet because his brothers had left his shoes on, but then it got to be very tempting. As I looked at the form hog-tied on the bed, I got to thinking…
Chapter 2: Babysitting can be fun sometimes
OK, it's not like all these ideas came up out of the blue. I'd had fantasies about tying up guys before. And about the possible fun I could have. However, this little time I'd spent with a helpless Philippe, all wrapped up in nylon and ropes, sweating, and struggling did fuel my creative thinking. I closed the window so we wouldn't be heard from outside.
I went to the side of the bed; I tickled him some more, rejoicing in his relentless laughter, and being rather turned on by the solid piece of wood tenting his satiny shorts; I then asked him if he was thirsty. He was, so I went back to the bathroom to get some water. He hadn't seen I'd grabbed the Speedos he'd kept in his mouth since morning; I felt like adding to the slimy touch.
I lowered my shorts and my white cotton briefs. It didn't take long before I came into the Speedos, as I narcissistically looked at my cute blonde face in the mirror over the sink, stroking my five inches proudly with my right hand, holding the gooey nylon in the other, thinking of the hot bundle I was going to play a prank on. I pulled my feet out of the briefs and shorts that were at my ankles, since I didn't feel like wearing my cotton underwear anymore.
I then cautiously cleaned up my shaft before pulling my shorts back up, carefully tucking my manhood inside; I turned around and looked at myself in the mirror a final time, with my butt tightly lined by the shiny material even more, since I was sprouting another boner already.
I went back to the bedroom with a big plastic cup full of water in one hand, Philippe's wet piece of underwear in the other, hidden from his view. He was still patiently waiting, hogtied on his side, and turned to me; his square face, his blue eyes, and his messy black hair all made him look SO appealing. I brought the cup of water to his lips, and had him drink it all.
“Thanks,” he said as he was done guzzling down the half litre of cold water. I didn't let him go into more polite talk as I shoved the soggy nylon into his mouth. I dried his lower face with my jersey's sleeve, and criss-crossed a few pieces of tape over his lips. I then wrapped three or four turns of the 2 ½ inch-wide roll of tape around his head, making sure his lower face was well covered and the Speedos would remain where they were.
“Enjoy the taste?” I asked. “Like the taste of me?”
His eyes widened as he realized his underwear was cum-flavoured – with my spunk!
“Hmmmph!” he grunted, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Calm down, I can't believe you don't enjoy it, you little stinkpot!”
With the window closed, it was getting a bit stuffy (the bedroom was just under the roof and the sun was beating hard this day). And I was getting quite turned on by the musky smells we both developed. I was about to move on to the next phase.
I leaned over to unlace my Ilie Nastase sneakers – these were the 80s, remember – giving Philippe a nice view of my red nylon-clad butt. I removed my shoes, and then my sweaty white socks. I held them for a while, and took a sniff. I thought Philippe would enjoy getting a whiff, so I placed them over his taped mouth, with the toes, the smelliest part, just under his nostrils. A couple more turns of the roll of tape ensured they'd remain where they were. Interestingly, it added to the inflation of the black satin encasing his crotch.
I climbed onto the bed and leaned over Philippe to untie the rope linking his ankles and wrists. He stretched his legs and had a satisfied grunt. The position must have gotten a bit uncomfortable after a while, I guessed. I pushed him back on his back, his hands still tied behind him. I knew it had to hurt a bit, but I didn't intend to leave him like this for too long. I straddled his thighs, facing his feet and bent over to untie his ankles before I'd remove his black leather sneakers.
I tickled his flanks with my toes a bit, and there was some shaking and squirming from the boy bound underneath me, but it didn't deter me from going on. As I pulled his left shoe off, my nose was told he'd worn these socks for longer than since this morning. “Ewww…” I whined, “You don't change socks too often, do you?” I craned my neck to catch a look at Philippe's face; he let out a low annoyed grunt as our eyes met.
It's really strange that as inexperienced as I was, I managed rather well to use the ropes; I had had a little time with the cub scouts, so I knew basic knots and lashing, and my lusty, kinky mind got me to find out the rest of the solutions. Soon Philippe was tied with his legs spread out, each ankle tied to the footboard, his feet sticking slightly out of the mattress. His arms were pulled to the side, wrists linked to the bed's feet.
I added ropes at the knees, waist and shoulders that I tied to the bed frame. He would have a hard time bucking and writhing as I planned to “torture” him a bit further. I picked up his smelly socks I had thrown on the floor, and jumped back onto the bed, sitting on his belly and looking at him intently. I knotted the two tubes of yellow nylon at the toes, and I tied them on top of my own socks, the scent of which he was already enjoying. A knot tied behind his head meant he now was prisoner of both sets of stinky toes.
As I sat up straight, my butt went a bit further back, and I could feel that the stench was turning him on further. I wriggled my butt against his hard-on a little, and I got him wild, as he was trying to extend the soft caress by the nylon stretched over the soft mounds. I moved further back and sat between his spread hairy thighs, propped on my elbows that touched his calves.. I pulled my feet up, and softly laid them over his stomach. From there, I slowly moved them up towards his face, wiggling my toes in a tickling motion until I had both feet pressed against the layers of socks covering his lower face.
“Like them piggies, hey?” I joked as my captive was still displaying a consistent woody.
I don't remember precisely the sequence of events that ensued. I know that I had fun with his feet, since I had found a feather on his desk, that I tickled his boner through his shorts and overall enjoyed seeing Philippe writhe and squirm, his muffled grunts sounding like moans of pleasure. I even ended up sitting on his chest, and locking my blue gaze into his as I wanked in my shorts.
Just before I came, I pulled my cock out and lowered it, aiming at his face. I didn't miss, and a splash of semen covered his nylon covered lower face. I then spread the whitish liquid all over with my softening sex, even going to the extent of rubbing his nostrils with the tip of my dick. I couldn't believe what was driving me so wild. That's when the phone rang.
Chapter 3: I guess I’ll be at it a little longer
The phone ringing got me out from my post-orgasmic haze in a jiffy. I had a quick look at the alarm clock as I jumped down from the bed. Quarter to five. Darn, I had to untie my prisoner before Philippe's parents came back. I went to answer the phone on the landing, since it was likely it was my own parents calling to ask what time I'd be home.
“Hello?” I said trying to control my breathing, for I felt like I had run a few miles.
“Grégory?” A mildly surprised voice said. I identified the boys' mother quickly.
“Yes, Mrs T., Philippe's not in, he should be back soon though.”
“That's fine; just tell him we're staying over at his aunt's, we won't be back before lunch tomorrow. I already called his brothers at Steph's; they're staying overnight. Are you sleeping over, Grégory?”
Wow, this family sure helped me out a lot so I had some private time with Philippe. We had had sleepovers with Philippe and his brothers as far as I remembered. And since the summer before, we had had their house or my parents' for ourselves a few nights. Which meant playing football until dark, then Risk or Monopoly until ungodly hours, cooking spaghetti and when at my place watching videos, since my parents owned a VCR.
“Uh, may I?”
“Sure, I'll call your parents to check if it's OK with them.”
There was little risk it wouldn't be OK with them; my parents usually enjoyed having nights to them in the summer if they managed to get rid of all three of us.
“Thank you, Mrs T.”
“No problem, tell Philippe he can fix the left-over stew for your dinner. There's ice-cream in the freezer.”
“I'll tell him. Have a nice evening.”
“You too. Take care.”
I hung up the phone and grinned. It meant I had all evening, night and morning to take care of my prisoner. I rushed back into his bedroom, after getting a plastic gun in Cédric's. It sure smelled musky in there. Instead of grossing me out, it got me back into lustful mode. I was totally intoxicated by all I saw, heard and smelled, and completely overwhelmed by the whole situation. I stripped off my jersey, and approached the spread-eagled boy, brandishing my toy gun and getting into character for going on with the game.
“Sorry, prisoner, but I just had your parents on the phone. They haven't collected the ransom yet.”
“Mmmblmph!” Philippe grunted back.
“Yes, it's annoying; it means I have to keep you here a little while longer.”
Another muffled growl and some hampered thrashing around conveyed the message: Philippe was only too happy to play the role of the hostage in distress. A slightly darker patch on the front of his shorts told another story. I sat on the side of the mattress, and was about to have more fun with Philippe's expanding crotch when the phone rang again.
“Maybe the ransom is ready?”
“Mmmmph!” Philippe said shaking his head. I doubted he'd be happy to be freed at this point. I went to answer the phone.
“Grégory, my mom told me you stayed with Philippe overnight?” Cédric piped joyfully.
“And I'd bet Philippe can't come to the phone right now?”
“No, he can't. Any message for him?” I was eager to get back to playing around with my captive, so I didn't trigger a lengthy conversation.
“Not really, but if you keep him bound longer, he'll be happy; he told us he'd like to see what happens if you spend 24 hours tied up.”
“I'll check out with him. And I have to untie him to go to the bathroom, at least.”
“I'm not gonna wipe his butt, Cédric!”
I heard a grunt from the bedroom, but its meaning still was ambiguous. There was also a pause on the other end of the line. My statement did cause some thinking here and there.
“Yeah, I guess,” Cédric said, with just a hint of embarrassment. “But other than this, keep him tied up, I'm sure he'll like it.”
I knew about Philippe's taste all right, I'd had the occasion to witness it myself, but the eagerness his brothers would have in telling me just got me randier, it didn't raise any concern I could have felt at the beginning of the afternoon. While I pictured a few of the things I'd do to Philippe next, I tried to remain calm and non-committal over the phone.
“So, what are you guys and Steph up to?”
“Ah, the usual, he got this movie from his cousin that should scare the crap out of Hervé; it's called The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so we're going to watch this when it's dark. We're gonna have a table tennis tournament before.”
“Good, you guys have fun!”
“Yeah, you too! See you tomorrow; we'll be back round eleven.”
“OK, see you then.”
After putting the receiver back into its cradle, I picked it up again to call my parents, not wanting to be disturbed once more in my games with my bound buddy. It didn't take long, but that being out of the way, I was back into business.
I searched Philippe's brothers' bedrooms for more gear to make my wild ideas come to life. More sportswear, a few rolls of tape, a couple rubber swim caps, and other items of interest were collected in a canvas bag.
“So, prisoner, I got orders to detain you here longer.”
Another bout of tickling with me kneeling between my friend's thighs got the expected results of helpless squirming, tears welling up and the dark patch spreading a bit more. I didn't fare much better, as I noticed my shorts were turning crimson where the tip of my swollen member rested. I thought it wasn't fair that I could tent my shorts as heavily and that Philippe could keep a little modesty: I untied his legs, lowered his shorts and briefs, then put his shorts back on.
Of course, it was a bit difficult to get his puffed-up, leaking manhood back inside, but the tight elastic waistband allowed to trap the said manhood within the confines of the gleaming black material again. I was left with his Speedos; yes, Philippe must have a nylon fetish, he wore Speedos under his Beckenbauer shorts. I inhaled deeply, with the crotch area a centimetre or two from my nose.
It was a rich and pungent aroma; I was fascinated by both the smell and the effect it had on me; I discovered the attraction I could have for things that would have seemed repulsive had I been told about doing them a few hours earlier. Philippe started moving his legs around, pretending he was trying to get free.
I had another inspired idea. While taunting him and telling how he had no chance of ever escaping my control, I fetched two coils of rope previously unused. I grabbed his left ankle and looped some rope around it that I carefully knotted. I then pulled his leg up, and back down next to his head; once I had tied the end of the rope to the headboard, his foot would remain close to his head. I did the same thing with his right leg, then patiently untied from the frame the ropes that had kept his lower limbs down, and used them at the knees and thighs to keep him pinned on his back, his butt sticking up and any motion being once again made impossible.
“You're my little prisoner who can't run away, aren't you?” I teased him as I pulled the Speedos I had just stripped him from down on his face, managing to have the crotch area just over his nose, which now had to be taking in only odours of sweaty feet and boy cum. Back on the bed, I kneeled in front of him, my thighs touching his stretched buttocks.
I lowered myself, putting my hands besides his ribs, until my boner rubbed the satin covering his butt crack. I went into some hip grinding, and so did Philippe, to the extent that the ropes allowed him to. I thought of ripping his shorts and going all the way, but as it was a first, I still couldn't figure out how it could be done, and I still wasn't comfortable with the idea of sticking my weenie up his derriere.
I flexed my arms and came closer to him, and at the same time moved forward a bit, until I felt, separated by two layers of satiny nylon, our cocks stroking each other. I brought my face to his, taking in the various aromas he was a captive of, and I shook my hips so the rubbing of the material was at its softest. I gave Philippe some dirty talk I wasn't aware I knew, and I could feel him shivering underneath, and grumbling into his thick gag.
A tension was building up in my loins, and I kept on moving, having more control over the situation and wanting to bring my captive friend to orgasm. As I sensed his restrained body quivering and shaking in spite of the restraints, I lost it completely and started moving around frantically. He shouted through his gag as we both came together. I kept on humping him like crazy as the warm wetness invaded my shorts. I dropped over him, panting, telling him how good this was, our blue gazes locked, while he gratefully grunted.
Last edited by Bondwriter
on Wed Dec 21, 2016 11:36 pm, edited 41 times in total.