House on Park, Part 8

Later, in the middle of the night, I was gently brought out of sleep by hands caressing my body.

"No, that's naughty, Eric," I whispered. "You promised to let me get some sleep."

But I had instinctively reached for his cock to give it a caress, and was surprised out of my gourd when I discovered it wasn't Eric. The cock wasn't cut. I sat up in bed to come face to face with the tattooed burglar dude.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" I whispered. "I thought you'd know better than to show up here again. Claude will split you in two if he finds you here again."

"Shhh," the dude whispered. "You were right. I went back to my lady and banged her all evening. And, although it was great sex, it didn't feel anything like it did with you. I gotta have more, and you gotta teach me that blow job action until I get it right."

I chuckled and turned to sit up in bed . . . and stopped chuckling. My feet had been spread-eagled and tied to the bedposts. Before I could react, the dude had another silk scarf around a wrist and had that one attached to another bedpost. I started to cry out, and he stifled that attempt in a deep-tongue kiss, as the last limb got tide up. The scarves were long, though, and didn't keep my limbs taut; they just kept me on the bed and from using the combined force of my limbs. Out came another scarf and the dude had me gagged.

"I hope later we can get rid of these," he whispered. "But I'm dying to do something, and I didn't know if you'd let me otherwise."

Out came the fuck lubricant that he must have found downstairs, and he flipped it out on the bed beside me. I'd worn the silk shorts to bed, that they posed little problem to him. His hands were strong. He just bunched up the material in his two hands and ripped the shorts apart. My cock, already half hard, just jumped up and slapped onto my belly when it was free. The lubricant tube came open; he squeezed out a glop, and started right to applying it to my ass. Not knowing what he was doing, he was a little rough, and went deeper than he should have at first, without being patient, and I did some grunting. But I wasn't really all that displeased.

He shushed me, and than lay out fully extended on top of me for several minutes, both to give the lubricant time to act and to build up the courage to take the active role for the first time on another man. I could feel both of our cocks rising. I was a little worried about the thickness of his but knew the length would be no problem. He scooted up on me and put the fingers of both of his hands into my hair and started massaging my scalp and temples. It felt good and helped me to relax. I wondered where he had learned this. He kissed both of my eyelids, nibbled a bit at my earlobes, and buried his face in my neck. He found the pressure point of a major vein and laid a sucking kiss on it. My cock stood right up at attention on that one. That was a move I didn't know. He worked his kisses down to my nipples and then down my belly and into my groin and my balls. I was dying for him to get to my cock, but, sensing my desire, he whispered.

"Later. We'll do the cock later—when you're free. If you want."

He did, though, do a little work there now. He went up on his knees straddling me, his calves encasing and pushing in my legs. He took his cock and laid it alongside mine, with both standing straight up, encircled the two with both hands, and gently squeezed and did a little up and down movement with his pelvis that caused friction between the two rods. Ah, that felt good. Then he released the cocks, fanned his hands out on my lower belly, and slowly worked them up and over my pecs in a massaging action, ending up with massaging my shoulder and neck muscles. He then came up above me on his knees, and started to gently masturbate above me, fully in my view. I watched, amazed, as his cock grew bigger and thicker than I had remembered it to have become the previous afternoon. He beat his own meat until he shot off, all over my belly and chest. He then took my torn shorts and wiped me off. He did a repeat number of nibbling me down from head to toe until he began to harden again. He then went back on his knees, got a glop of the lubricant from the tube and rubbed his cock down until it was big and thick again. This was followed by a repeat of the massaging of my chest, shoulder, and neck.

I wasn't sure if this was as far as he was going to take this, or if he was just building up the courage to completely cross over to the more liberated side, but I don't think I could be more relaxed than I was at that moment, so I didn't really care much. Which was a good thing, because this time when he went up on his knees, he slid my torso down the bed as far as the restraints would permit, put his arms under my legs, lifted them and dove for my asshole with his cock. He missed the first two times, but the third time was a charm. He briefly had to stop when he first entered me, because he was just too thick and became stuck. But his answer to this problem, now that he had purchase, was just to lift my butt off the mattress and plunge forward. I grunted and tried to cry out through the silk gag and felt that I was being split apart, but I loved it as he just plowed down to the root and, without taking a second to adjust, started pumping hard, staying deep. Although he was thick enough to fill my ass passage from side to side to the limit, the loose-skin suction sensation of an uncut cock was deeply pleasurable. Three minutes, and it was over. My insides were lubricated by strong, full squirts of semen, and he collapsed on top of me in shuddering spasms. The dude's first male fuck; I'm glad to have been part of it. He could get it refined later, but I liked it just fine the way it was.

After a moment, he rolled off to the side of me, and stroked me from my nipples down by belly and to my balls.

"So, are you going to scream and give me away, if I take the gag off?" he whispered.

I shook my head and looked directly into his eyes. He took the gag off, and we kissed.

"Are you going to run off on me if I untie your hands?" he whispered.

"Nope," I responded. "I'd give you another blow job right here, right now, even with the restraints."

He tested my pledge immediately. Straddling my shoulders, he knelt on my chest and presented his pecker, which now was tumescent.

"Put your balls in my mouth," I directed. He pulled his big bags up, and I leaned forward and drew both of them in and moved them to my cheeks. He gave a little gasp, but he gave a bigger one, when I snaked my tongue out of my mouth and flicked at and up the base of his cock as far as I could go, which was pretty far considered how stubby he was in tumescence. He was so shocked I had done this that he started to pull away, and wound up with a flash of pleasure-pain as this just pulled at his balls. I continued with this process, as he thickened again, and, when satisfied he had something I could keep control of, I expunged his balls, raised my head, and got my mouth over the head of his uncut cock. I pushed his foreskin down with my lips and started sucking and tongue-flicking his glans and piss slit.

The dude arched back, supporting himself on his left arm, and slid his right hand down my belly, and encircled and stroked my cock. I took more of his rod in, which was still expanding and pumped up and down with my mouth. The dude rose back up and slid his left hand up my left arm and released the restraint. I put that hand up on his face, cupping his cheek, and opening his lips with my thumb, which he gave some suck. Then, I rewarded him by going straight for the base of his pecker, putting pressure on it and stroking up to meet the downward pumping. He rewarded me by releasing my other hand. And I, in turn, rewarded myself by coming right up with my chest, throwing him back off balance in front of me, grabbing him under the knees and throwing him on his back at the end of the bed, coming up on my knees, doubling his legs up and trapping them with my shoulders and chest, reaching down with my right hand, taking my cock, stuffing it in his asshole, and plunging and plunging and plunging, and squirting, until we both fell back on the bed, laughing as silently as we could.

We went to sleep entangled in each other's arms, but I was alone when I awoke the next morning. No one was in Eric and Claude's room, and I showered and put on the clothes I'd arrived in and descended the stairs. Claude was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper. He was nude and looking might fine.

"Where's Eric?" I asked. "I'm about to leave and thought I should say good-bye to him."

Claude lowered the paper and peered at me. "He's out in the garage in back, I think. Tinkering with the Triumph."

The Triumph?

I walked on back to a garage at the back of the lot and, sure enough, there was Eric, dressed only in cut-offs and moccasins, tinkering in the engine of an old Triumph convertible—undoubtedly the Triumph I'd come to this town to buy.

"Sure," he answered to my query, "I'm the one who's got the Triumph to sell. Did they mess up the address in the newspaper ad?"

We both walked around the classic car, lovingly caressing it with our hands as if it were a favorite lover. I asked him how much he wanted for the car, and he named a price that was pushing my limit. I hesitated in responding.

"But, I'll tell you what," he finally said. "I'll take 10 percent off the price if you'll let me do you on the trunk of this car, right now, like you did me on the trunk of the Tempest yesterday."

"Sold!"