The shame, the paranoia, the guilt, I'd experienced it all in high school. I'd watch the other guys in the shower out of the corner of my eye, terrified I'd get an erection and be betrayed. After that you'd think I'd grow up and come out of the closet, but I pretended to myself as much as anyone else that I wasn't gay. I dated, I had sex, I got my first apartment, and still I looked at other guys out of the corner of my eye.



My friend Hunter wasn't gay. Slim, tall and attractive, women draped themselves over him, and though he was too much of a gentleman to boast, I knew he'd had all the sex they could throw at him. Being slim and short, I'd had fewer adventures, but enough to know something was missing for me. I was surprised one night to discover that Hunter wasn't entirely satisfied with his sex life either.



We'd crashed at my place after too many beers, as we often did since he still lived with his parents. I only had a bachelor apartment, so I opened my bed and he crashed on the couch nearby as usual. I loved this arrangement because in the dark I'd feel myself get hard in the secrecy of my sheets, even if we just talked about work or chicks or whatever. Knowing he lay a few feet away in his boxers made me tremble quietly. I was only twenty after all.



"It's all about adventure, I guess," he said that night. "I mean, there's no challenge. You undo their bra and they pull it off. You're in bed before you know it. Wham bam!"



"I think you date a different type of woman from the ones I know," I said, knowing I sounded jealous but not caring.



"I...I mean, I find it more exciting if it takes a bit more work. Like if you have to win a strip poker game, or, well, if you have to restrain them." I could hear his blush. This was heady stuff to admit. I decided it needed a really frank reply.



"I'm into a little bondage with a willing partner," I said.



"Oh, me too! I mean, I don't want to rape anyone or anything like that. I'd be as happy if they tied me down. You know, so one of us had no choice but to go along. Just to spice things up a bit."



Bondage wasn't something I was for or against, but suddenly I had an image of my legs high in the air, my hands secured to the bed posts, and Hunter naked on top of me. My quiet tremble began.



"I've thought of that," I lied. "A little playful spanking, a little teasing. I've often wondered what it'd be like to be spanked."



"Yeah." He sighed that out, and I knew immediately that spanking had played a part in his fantasies. I had to pursue this. I may have felt guilty, but I wanted to see his near naked body again as I had when he had stripped down before he hopped into the sleeping bag on the couch.



"My problem," I said, trying to keep the quaver out of my voice and sound clinical. "Is that I don't know what's reasonable to expect from a spanking. If I fantasize giving or receiving forty slaps, is that too many?"



"I don't know. I've never spanked or been spanked. I guess you haven't either?"



"I was taking this chick from behind once and I gave her a playful swat. She groaned and pushed into me, which was great, so I gave her a few more. She asked me to stop but she went wild. We had a great fuck, but after that she gave me a lecture about all men being potential rapists and she never slept with me again."



"That's what kills me," said Hunter as he shifted in the sleeping bag. I tried to pierce the darkness with my eyes. Could I see a lump where his groin would be? "It's not that I want to dominate women. I'd love to be tied down myself. It's about playing a game. Making things more interesting. I mean, I bet you'd love to have a chick spank you as much as the other way around."



"Well, I think it's important if I'm to know if what I'm fantasizing is reasonable. I'd love to know what it would feel like to get ten good swats on my butt. From anyone. Just to know, you know."



"Yeah, but no chick is likely to comply." Again I heard him shift. I knew he was as hot as a cat. I could picture those beautiful abs contracting and expanding as he moved. I'd seen him in the change room enough to know that a reasonable sized cock now brushed the inside of his boxers. He had to be hard.



"You know, I don't even care if it's a chick." I knew I was going way out on a limb here. "I mean, I'm just curious to know what ten good smacks feel like. I mean, you could give them to me. It's just about knowing if any of my fantasies are reasonable."



The room became heavy with silence, and I panicked for a moment, thinking I'd pushed things too far.



"Well, if all you want is to know what a spanking is like, I can give you one," he said. His voice sounded thick.



"If you don't mind. I know it sounds gay and all, but I just want to know, and like you said, no chick'll teach me."



"No, no, I know what you mean." He sat up quickly. His nude chest sculpted by the moonlight through my window; neither of us had chest hair. "It's a hard thing to ask. It's not that we're gay."



Hard! He didn't know the half of it. I sat up and tried not to look like I was trembling.



"No, of course not. But if you don't mind, I mean, I have to be naked for it to work."



"Oh, yeah, of course. Skin on skin is very important in this kind of game."



I stood on that cue even though I knew my boxers would tent significantly. I paused for a moment, admiring my lithe frame in the weak light, before I slipped my boxers down to my ankles and stepped out of them.



"Bend over the chair here," he directed as he stood, pretending he didn't see my skinny seven-inch erection. He motioned me to my over-stuffed arm chair. I stepped up to the back and he pushed me over it until my hands pressed against the seat, my erection caressing the back of the chair. I knew I'd get pre-cum on the fabric but I didn't care. I was lost in the touch of his hand between my shoulder blades as he had pushed me down. Even after he let go my skin tingled in that spot.



The first slap only hit one cheek and weakly at that, but still I shuddered and I felt my sex twitch against the chair.



"Did that hurt?" asked Hunter.



I looked over my shoulder, enjoying the vulnerable feeling of being bent over beneath him. My eyes traveled up a leg of light hair to see him over me with one hand in the air, a young athlete with tented boxers. The secreted erection, so close but so obvious, made me wet my lips.



"No, it just kind of surprised me. I imagined spanking would be a lot harder."



"Like this?" He slapped my left buttock with more enthusiasm. "Or like this?" He slapped my right buttock. Both made me jerk, more because I wanted to rather than from any pain. I suddenly realized that I liked the spanking.



"Even harder." My voice came out as a hoarse whisper, choked with passion. I prayed he didn't notice.



"Uhm, little bitch is tough," he said as he delivered a good crack to my left cheek. This time my jerk firmly ground my organ into the chair until I pushed my behind back into the air. Hearing him call me a little bitch sent a thrill through my veins. Suddenly, as if he were an artillery man who'd found his range, he opened up on me. Six quick hard slaps on each buttock. That was over the ten I'd asked for, but I had no complaints. He stopped and began to massage my left buttock with one hand. It burned in reply.



"Did that hurt too much?" he asked.



I bit back a groan and fought to control myself. I could have pushed my cock into the back of that chair and ruined it with the half-dozen shots that wanted to burst forth.



"No, actually. In my fantasies I'd cry out in pleasure and pain, but I guess you'd have to slap harder and more to make that happen." I made no attempt to stand, and he switched to massaging my right buttock. I felt so open to him, so ready.



"I can make that happen." He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me around the arm chair. "Lie across my lap," he said after he sat down. My mouth went dry. I bent over his knees and felt my erection squash between his upper thigh and my stomach, taking most of my weight. He grabbed my hip and pulled me toward him, as if protecting me from slipping over his knees, but the maneuver pressed my side into his erection. Did I even feel his hips thrust toward me?



He began to slap each buttock hard, and each time my jerking reaction thrust me into his leg and rubbed my side along his firmness. My buttocks began to feel hot, and the slaps really began to sting. Now I didn't jerk for effect, I spasmed in reaction to the slaps. They hurt! I bit my lip though, not wanting it to end until he was so hot that he'd rip off his shorts and impale me over the armchair right there. Finally a cry forced its way past my lips. He gave me three more good slaps, apparently enjoying each cry that ripped from me.



To my utter disappointment he stopped then, but he massaged my buttocks for a while, pressing in the fire. Lying naked over his knee like that, feeling him caress my behind, remains one of the best memories I have of sex. It didn't last however. He stood and gently helped me up, but then he hurried to the safety of his sleeping bag.



Suddenly I felt humiliated, but I decided to not be ashamed.



"Whew, that was hot," I said as I stretched in the moonlight, reveling in my nudity. I made sure I was profile to his line of sight so that if he looked my way he couldn't fail to see my erection. The glitter of his eyes betrayed him. He watched me alright. I swaggered back to my bed, letting my erection swing proudly back and forth, and I passed his couch as close as I could without tripping on it. Even in the dark he had to be getting a very good look. I lay down on top of my covers with my hands behind my head. There'd be no suspicious bulge in my covers if he looked my way. Nope, instead he'd see that flagpole shamelessly straining to point to the ceiling.



And look he did. He rolled onto his stomach and propped himself on his elbows to talk, young biceps bulging, firm pecs in a dark recess above the couch. Come to think of it, he often chatted with me this way before we drifted off to sleep. Now I knew he crushed an erection into that couch, but I wondered if this was the first time.



"So was it everything you expected?" he asked. I hadn't really expected anything, so I didn't have to lie.



"It was better. At first I thought I could take it forever, then I thought you couldn't make me cry out, then I felt humiliated. How about you, did you find your inner rapist?"



"I enjoyed it because you did. I tell you, it has nothing to do with wanting to dominate women. I just like the idea of restraint. I'd love to be restrained myself, even if she's going to do things to me that I'm not interested in. In fact, I'd like it better if someone tied me up and abused me against my will. I guess I'm looking for someone else's inner rapist. But no one wants to tie me up anymore than anyone wants to spank you. I mean, I'd love to know what it's like to be tied up and helpless, really helpless."



I noticed the change in his speech. He'd gone from talking about women to talking about 'someone'.



"I can tie you down if you like. One favour deserves another after all."



"Well, it's kind of weird, but it's not like we're gay." His voice husked up. He sounded like he had difficulty talking. "It's just an experiment, like your spanking."



"Oh, of course. I've got some rope in the front closet. I'll get it."



As I reached into the closet I heard a shuffle and saw a flash of white skin as Hunter left the safety of his sleeping bag and lay down on my bed, his hands reaching for the bed posts.



I sauntered over swinging the end of the rope and took his wrist without a word, hoping my nudity made him nervous. He still hid his manhood in his shorts. I tied him tightly so as to save him faking helplessness.



"Can you free yourself?" I asked after I sat down on the bed beside him. My naked hip rested against his calf, my right hand on his knee. He struggled for a while, and I enjoyed the sight of lats twisting, biceps bulging, and abs crunching.



"No," he said at last. "You've done a really good job." His breath caught as my right hand slipped off his knee and up his inner thigh. I let it fall to the bed just below his crotch as if that had been the intended destination and brushing his thigh had been an accident; then I leaned over him and reached with my left hand up to his wrist, as if to check the knot. This brought my right forearm in contact with the base of his pole, again as if by accident, and my chest hovered over his stomach. Again I heard a sharp intake of breath.



I decided I needed more contact with that cloth-covered secret. I carried my left hand to his far wrist, but I had to turn onto my knees and stretch over him to reach it. My bare chest pressed into the material of his shorts, and I let the wetness at the peak of that tent drag between my nipples to my belly button before I sat back, dragging it up almost to my chin before I sat up. All quite accidental contact of course.



"Yes, quite firm," I said. "But I haven't taken care of your legs yet, and of course you must be naked." I grabbed the waist band of his shorts and pulled them slowly over slender hips, careful to trap his cock with the elastic until the erection pulled down against its desire to point at his toes. When it finally sprang free of the elastic it leapt up and slapped his stomach, drawing a hiss from Hunter.



I secured his ankles, dragging him tautly spread eagle in the process. When I finished I felt a great peace. Willing or not, I intended to have my way with him: regardless of what he asked, regardless of what he desired. I was drunk now with passion rather than alcohol.



I stood with one finger on his leg and began to walk along the side of the bed, dragging my finger up his leg, dangerously close to his pubic hair, and up to his chest.



"Do you feel helpless?"



"Yes."



"Naked?"



"Yes."



"Vulnerable?"



"Very vulnerable." He swallowed noisily.



"You see I think you're a naughty boy. I think you've fantasized doing awful things to unwilling victims."



"No," he gasped. "Only willing ones. Only things I'd be willing to have them do to me."



"But what if some girl didn't want to suck you while she was tied up. Wouldn't you force her?"



"I might if I thought she could handle it. I mean, you know, if she'd tied me down already and made me submit to forceful acts. If it were revenge."



"Like if she'd made you suck her boyfriend's cock?"



"Yes. I mean, if you want to feel really helpless, you have to have things done to you that you didn't think of. Things you wouldn't otherwise do. Oh my God!"



I'd straddle him while he talked, but I misjudged the length of that cock of his and as I got over him on all fours, my knees on either side of his hips, my balls brushed the tip of his cock. My face now hovered over his.



"Like being forced to suck cock?" I began to move my knees forward and sat on his chest, my cock waving in his face.



"It's not that we're gay," he replied, his eyes fixed on my cock. "But that would be one thing one guy could do to another to make him really feel helpless and used. It's the principle of having no choice but to..."



I rose up on my knees and leaned forward, silencing his prattle with the head of my cock. The warmth and wetness took me over. I gently sunk my fingers into his short hair and rested my face against the wall behind the bed for support, then I slowly pushed deep into his mouth. He struggled, whether for sport or protest I didn't care. I paused and pushed again. He shook his head weakly and made muffled complaints, but I pushed deeper anyway until I felt my pubic hair disturbed by his nose. I loved the feeling of his mouth; I loved the little motions of his head; I loved the muffled protests; I loved the power.



I slide back out of him and let him catch his breath.



"That's what she'd feel if you forced her."



"Wow, I mean, you went all the way in. My girl friend has never taken my whole cock in her mouth."



"Perhaps because yours is at least an inch longer and a lot thicker," I said as I worked my way back until I knelt between his spread legs so I could look at his cock.



"It's not that much bigger than yours."



"Sure it is, look." I placed my cock against his, rubbing them together as I lined them up. Both of us shuddered this time, and my tremble returned. His erection was a full cockhead longer than mine and somewhat thicker. He raised his head to look but had trouble seeing.



"It depends on where you line up the bottom doesn't it?" he asked.



"We're pretty much base to base as far as I can tell."



I rubbed our cocks together for a full minute as if trying to ensure they were properly lined up, but soon I feared even that motion would make me shoot all over his stomach. I had to do something that didn't involve my erection.



"I think I'll see if your girlfriend is a wimp or not," I whispered as I backed down the bed, letting the front of his erection slide up my stomach, over my chest until its head poked under my chin.



"What do you mean?" He also whispered and his breath came in short intermittent gusts. I sense a slight shudder and realized that he too trembled.



"It occurs to me that one of the most humiliating things I can do to you now is suck your cock. You'll have to lie there and feel another guy give you pleasure, and if you close your eyes to try and pretend it's a girl, I'll brush my five o'clock shadow over your cock to remind you that it's a guy that's doing this to you." I didn't have much of a five o'clock shadow, but we both ignored that point.



"That's a good torture," he whispered. "Forcing gay sex on a straight guy who's tied...wow!"



I had silenced him by engulfing the head of his penis. I got my first taste of pre-cum other than my own. It didn't send me one way or the other, but the feeling of the helmet in my mouth did it all for me. I squeezed my lips just below the head where the foreskin must've been briefly attached, then I pushed down, forcing my tight lips farther and farther along that perfect shaft. I'd reached the half-way point when I felt the fat head push into the back of my throat.



'I can do this,' I thought to myself. I let go of the base of him and put my left hand behind my head. It may have only been symbolic, but I pushed down on my own head forcing myself deeper onto his cock. I gagged and pulled up a bit before I pushed myself down even farther. I loved pretending it was his hand forcing my head down. This inspired me to push to new depths. My jaw stretched wide from the girth, my throat gagged again but I fought it back as my eyes watered. I thought I would be defeated when I felt his pubic hair on my nose, but that wasn't enough for me. I gave one last Herculean shove until my nose buried itself in his pubic hair and pressed against his pelvis. I half-choked and pulled up quickly, but after lingering for a second with just his head in my mouth I again lunged down his shaft.



"Dude," he whispered in panic. "I'm gonna blow!"



I pulled off and hovered over his cock. "That's part of the torture," I whispered. "You want to really feel helpless? Really have things done to you that you don't want?"



"Oh God," was the only reply he was capable of. He flirted with an orgasm just from my breath on his manhood.



"I'm going to make you come with a cock in your mouth. You're going to taste it as you shoot." I turned around as I said this and knelt over his head facing back. He didn't need to be commanded to open his mouth, so I pushed my cock half-way down his throat before I leaned over him and rested my head on his hip so that I could look at his full prominence as I pushed in and out of his mouth, occasionally making him involuntarily protest when I buried myself to the hilt. It only took two or three thrusts and I couldn't last any longer. I trembled out of control and took him into my mouth. I kept as much bare chest and stomach contact between us as I could.

