Tony was the kind of leather guy you see all the time on the porn sites: Dehner boots up to just below the knee; tight leather jeans with a thick white stripe down the outside of the legs; wide belt with handcuffs attached to it on the left hip, holster on the right; black leather shirt stretched tight by worked pecs, its short sleeves straining to contain bulging biceps; black leather gauntlets, and a Muir cap.
Earlier that morning he’d stood on the balcony of his flat across the road, already in his gear, watching the street being closed off for the Pride parade. When people had started to arrive he’d gone down in the lift to ground level, and walked outside.
He was leaning against the wall, thumbs hooked in his belt either side of the buckle, fingers resting sexily on but carefully not covering the impressive bulge in his leather jeans. His masculine face with its dark stubble relaxed into its usual and well-practised expression of quiet (but dangerous) authority.
He gazed at the guys parading down the street, enjoying the carnival atmosphere, and managed to stop himself from smiling when it made him think of a casting line for the Village People: there were guys stripped to the waist, in leather chaps and with their bare arses on show; bikers; thin boys in rubber suits with rubber paws and cute leather doggie masks, red tongues hanging out; there were guys in SWAT uniforms, or denim, PVC, work gear, plastic panties and diapers some with pacifiers in their mouths. One lad could hardly move in his tight leather bondage suit. They all walked or pranced down the centre of the street, singing, laughing, banners waving, while the local shoppers looked on in varying degrees of alarm. Lines of people who had come just to watch edged the parade, shouting encouragement.
Tony noticed a couple of good-looking bikers real ones, by the look of it, as they were standing by their bikes also watching. The taller of the two had an unpleasant sneer on his face, and kept pointing out individuals in the parade to his mate, mocking them and shaking his head in disbelief. Those two were clearly straight, thought Tony.
After a while the majority of the parade had passed and only a few stragglers were left. The shorter biker said something to the other, they nodded, bumped fists, and then he left; the taller one remaining there watching.
He noticed Tony. His eyes travelled slowly down the leather guy’s body, and he shook his head slowly once more, seemingly in pity.
Tony looked straight at the boy and fixed him with a penetrating stare. Bloody straights, he thought. If they didn’t like it they should stay away.
After a moment the biker moved from his spot and walked slowly across the road. He stopped a few feet in front of Tony, looked him up and down again and gave a single, derisive laugh. “What are you supposed to be then? A leather queen?”
Tony didn’t reply immediately. He remained in the same position, but he allowed a small smile to play on his lips. The biker had curly dark hair that had been flattened by his crash helmet, and was wearing a worn, black one-piece leather bike suit with “FLM” in large white letters on it. The sides of the knees were scraped - either from from fast cornering or judicious sandpapering. Sidi bike boots were on his feet. The boy was hot, thought Tony. He stroked the fingers of one hand slowly over his bulge. “I’m a leather Top.”
“A leather top. And what does that mean?” The sneer was still on the boy’s face.
“It means I give boys like you more sexual pleasure than they can handle.”
“Boy? I’m not a fucking boy I’m a man.”
The smile on Tony’s lips grew slightly. “No, you are a boy. You have no idea what sex is, or what your body is capable of.”
“Don’t I? I think my girlfriend would disagree with that.”
“Your girlfriend is an amateur, believe me. I have devoted most of my life to sex. When you have her, how long’s it last? Ten minutes? Probably not that. I give boys intense pleasure for hours. You have no idea.”
“And what’s with all the leather? Is there a gun in that holster? You planning to shoot someone? And why are those jeans so tight? They’re obscene. I can see the shape of your fucking dick. Oh, and handcuffs as well. Bit of bondage, yeah?”
“Have you ever been restrained so you’re helpless? So you can’t control what’s being done to you? Blindfolded so you can’t see what’s going on? So you don’t know what’s coming? While somebody works slowly on your helpless body?” His smile grew a little. “I could make you beg me to let you cum. And without even unzipping that leather suit.”
The boy stared unbelievingly. “Make me beg you to let me cum? Oh yeah, I can see that happening.”
Tony’s eyes dropped to the biker’s crotch. “You wearing anything under that?”
“What the fuck’s that got to do with you?”
Tony remained impassive, waiting. The silence stretched.
Eventually the biker sneered. “For your information, I haven’t got a stitch on under this tight, sexy, black leather. Does that make you want to rape my arse?”
Tony gazed at the boy. “Trust me, there is a lot more I can do to you than rape your arse, boy. A lot more. Actually I don’t spend much time fucking.”
“What the hell else is there?”
“That, my friend, is the problem. With most straights: sex equals fucking. Period. Get it in - get it out - go to sleep. That’s it. What I do to guys lasts much, much longer. I could give you orgasms so intense it would blow your fucking straight-boy mind.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “There is so much horny pleasure you will never experience.” He pushed himself away from the wall. “Well it’s been nice talking to you, boy. But I have better things to do.”
He turned and began to walk back across the now-emptying street.
He’d only gone a few paces.
Tony stopped and looked back. The biker walked up to him. He was silent for a moment, then he said, “I might think about letting you do some things. Might.”
It was Tony’s turn now to look the boy up and down slowly. “You ‘might think about letting me’? I don’t think so. Wrong attitude. And I play every day with better-looking guys than you.”
For a moment the biker looked furious. He opened his mouth in a snarl to reply, then changed his mind and closed it again. Eventually, after a long pause, he forced one word out. “Please?”
Tony seemed to consider. He sighed. What’s your name?”
The leather guy gazed at him for a while, then turned and resumed walking.
The biker followed him.
The playroom consisted of a bare, grey-walled room in the flat. Tony sat the biker down on a long, narrow, knee-high metal table bolted to the floor and padded with leather, with his booted feet either side of it. He took the handcuffs off his belt and secured the lad’s wrists behind his back, then strapped the boots to restraint points on the sides of the table so that he couldn’t move them. Holding him still with one hand on the back of his neck, he put the edge of his other leather-gloved hand between the bikers’ lips. Slowly but firmly he forced it further in until the boy’s mouth was wide around it. Phil’s eyes were staring up at Tony’s.
“Lick.” He felt the biker’s tongue moving over his hand. “Now, the first lesson about bondage: it doesn’t necessarily take much.” He removed his hand from the boy’s mouth, balled it into a fist and drew it back, level with Phil’s solar plexus. He jabbed it forward fast.
When the biker saw the punch coming, he yelled, tensed his stomach muscles and tried to avoid it but there was nothing he could do.
Tonystopped his fist just short of making contact.
“You see? You’re quite helpless. I could do a lot of things to you right now and there’d be fuck-all you could do to stop me.” He put his gloved hand over the boy’s eyes. “And you saw the punch coming. If I were to blindfold you…” He left the idea hanging.
Tony sat down on the end of the table facing Phil, their knees touching. He looked at the ill-defined bulge at the boy’s crotch. Although the leather over it was as worn as the rest of the suit, here it was still shiny although very thin. He took his gauntlets off and began to stroke the insides of the boy’s thighs.
Phil was looking down, watching Tony’s fingertips as they traced patterns over the leather. Then they made their way onto his balls. He could feel the fingernails scratching lightly. It tickled a bit, but it also felt horny. Phil shifted his position slightly on the table.
The exploring fingers found his soft cock. They squeezed briefly, moved a little, and repeated the action for a while, then they came to his cock head. Here they lingered, stroking and scratching over it. Because of his sitting position the biker’s legs weren’t very wide apart, and the leather over his crotch was quite loose. Soon his cock began to grow, able to push forward to fill the available space. Tony followed the slowly-moving head, playing with it constantly as it engorged, pushing the shaft down occasionally so that the glans was always as far out as possible, available to his fingertips. Phil had never had his cock teased through his leathers before and the feeling was unusual. It was also dead horny. Soon it was as hard as a flagpole, sticking straight out between his thighs, stretching the thin, worn leather as far as it would go.
Tony pulled the gauntlets back on, stood up, walked behind Phil, and clamped his gloved hands tightly over the biker’s eyes and mouth, pulling his head back against his pecs. “I think it’s time to make you feel a bit more helpless, boy.” He went to the shelves and came back with a heavy leather hood, which he dropped quickly over Phil’s head and tightened up. The boy spent a moment desperately finding out whether he could still breathe or not, and relaxed visibly when he decided he could.
That done, Tony took a sonic toothbrush with the head removed and sat down again where he’d been before.
Phil was conscious of the heavy hood pressing over his face. It was strange not being able to see anything. The hood was still cool, and it smelled strongly of leather. He heard Tony moving about and he wondered what the fuck he was doing. He realised he felt very vulnerable.
Without turning the vibrator on, Tony stroked the metal tip lightly over the bulging cock head for a while. Quiet moans came from under the hood. Then he held it still, and pressed the switch. A second later there was a surprised yell and the boy’s cock jerked under the leather. Tony lifted the device off, waited for a couple of heartbeats, and touched it back to the straining head again just for a second, before removing it once more.
Each time the thing made contact, Phil yelled and humped his hips and each time it was removed, he wailed. Straights, thought Tony: no wonder their women always complain that they cum so fucking quickly this boy was already on the edge and he hadn’t even started on him yet. He smiled, and for the next ten minutes he continued to touch the vibrator on and off the increasingly desperate cock, occasionally putting his finger across the base of it and moving it back down inside the suit to keep it at its most sensitive.
The biker had been getting more and more vocal: moans, yells, sighs, and quiet swearing but the noises were becoming more urgent by the minute. He couldn’t keep his hips still and he kept trying to fuck the leather, or the vibrator, or anything but his sitting position made that practically impossible. He was quickly discovering what the word ‘frustration’ meant.
Every time the vibrating device touched the stretched leather, the boy’s muscles tensed and his cock jerked urgently. Eventually the words Tony had been waiting for, came. “Please… please let me cum.”
Tony grinned, but remained silent. He continued to work on the cock head with the buzzing vibrator, his hand dropping it a half inch until it just touched the tip of the shiny black leather mound, counting to two, then lifting it that half inch so that it wasn’t touching any more, counting to five, and repeating.
“Please. Make me fucking CUM.” The words were louder now.
Down up wait…
Down up wait...
It took another two minutes.
“Oh fuck! I’ve GOT to cum! Fuck. Make me cum I’m BEGGING you!”
Tony switched the vibrator off. He teased Phil’s balls with his fingers. “Oh you’re not going to cum yet. I told you I could make you beg without even unzipping your suit. I’ve done that. But there’s a lot more I’m going to do.” He unfastened the boy’s boots from their restraints, then carefully positioned him between the two floor-to-ceiling posts and cuffed the booted feet to the bottom of them. Now that Phil was standing, the leather bike suit was tighter and it was pressing the lad’s hard cock against his body.
Tony slowly pulled the zip of the suit down as far as his navel. He pushed the leather aside and took the nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Very gently he massaged them, squeezing a little and rolling them. He had no intention of causing the lad pain. Phil groaned.
Reaching further in, he suddenly pushed his leather gauntlets up into the boy’s armpits. Phil immediately gasped and clamped his upper arms tight to his sides but Tony’s fingers were already in there and there was no way the biker could get them out. Tony began to move them.
From beneath the hood came a long, forced moan as if through clenched teeth. The moan turned into the beginning of uncontrollable laughter. His head was shaking from side to side violently. “No! Please! NO!”
Tony’s fingers froze. “You see, that’s what it means to be helpless: you can’t stop it. However much you want to.” He started to tickle to boy again.
After a minute of this, when Phil was in danger of falling over, Tony pulled his hands out, then uncuffed the boy’s wrists. “Take your suit off as far down as you can.”
The biker set about unfastening his leather bike suit. It involved releasing Velcro tabs at the wrists, pulling back the zips, lowering the main zip fully, and much squirming to get it off. His elbows bumped into the posts at his sides several times. Tony pulled it right down until it lay inside out in a heap around the booted feet.
Phil’s cock was impressive, and it was still hard, though it had cooled down substantially since the vibrator had stopped earlier. Tony raised the boy’s arms and buckled them into padded cuffs high up on the posts.
“You asked me: ‘what’s with all the leather?’ I think.” Tony pressed his body against the naked biker, sliding his gear over the boy’s skin. He used his now-straining leather bulge to move Phil’s cock from side to side, and to rub over it. He made sure the boy could feel every bit of his leathers his jeans against his thighs and legs, his shirt against his chest, his gauntlets caressing his naked back. He enclosed the semi-hard cock gently in a leather hand and stroked it slowly. It stiffened at the touch to full erection in seconds.
With his free hand Tony pulled the hood’s detachable mouth cover off, forced the boy’s head forward, and kissed him hard through the opening.
At first Phil pulled back sharply, but a few more teasing strokes on his cock persuaded him to go with it. He kissed Tony back as the man explored the biker’s mouth with his tongue. Tony wasn’t surprised when Phil responded in kind. It’s amazing, he thought, what even a straight boy will do if his cock’s hard enough.
“I need to cum,” said Phil, more clearly now the mouth cover wasn’t there.
“I know you do. But you don’t need to cum badly enough yet. Trust me, you will.” He stood back, and selected a dildo from the shelf. It wasn’t very thick, but it was long and curved. He lubed it, and while teasing the boy’s cock again with one hand, used the other to insert it slowly into the naked arse.
This caused a violent reaction. “Fuck no! Not that. Nothing in my arse!”
Tony chuckled. “Like I said, being helpless is about not being able to control things. By all means try to stop me.”
He worked on Phil’s cock head for a moment with his fingertips, but still the biker struggled to stop the dildo going in. Tony did it very slowly he knew it was extremely unlikely that the boy had had anything up there before.
As the black dildo gradually disappeared into him, Phil’s protests gradually became less. He was beginning to realise that it didn’t hurt, and that it actually felt fucking wonderful. Tony positioned it carefully, and knew that the end was touching the lad’s prostate when he let out a loud gasp.
“That helps to make boys want to cum,” Tony said. “You’ll see.” He went round to the front again and knelt down, then took the very tip of the biker’s cock between his lips. His tongue tickled just the mounds of the piss-slit lightly for a while, then he took the rest of the head into his mouth and found the lad’s frenulum. He stroked it with the tip of his tongue for a moment.
Phil’s hips thrust hard, trying to force his cock into Tony’s mouth, but Tony moved his head away.
“Grrr.” It was actually a growl. “Fucking make me cum you bastard!”
Tony just smiled. He stood up, found the metre-long wooden board that fitted horizontally between the posts, and screwed it into place. It pushed the biker’s pelvis forward, and the wide leather strap attached to it immobilised his hips completely.
He knelt down again, reached between the boy’s thighs, found the small switch on the base of the dildo, and clicked it. A very quiet buzz was audible.
The biker let out a startled gasp. “Oh fuck. Fuck! FUCK FUCK FUCK!”
Tony pulled his hand back a little and began to tease the smooth, round balls with his leather-gloved fingertips. He licked the tip of his tongue across the slit again a few times, then took the entire length of the cock into his mouth and began to suck it from the base to the tip very, very slowly. The wooden board creaked with Phil’s desperate efforts to fuck the hot, wet, sucking mouth, but the strap was doing exactly what it had been designed to do, and made that quite impossible. His cock remained practically motionless for Tony to work on it as slowly and as frustratingly as he liked.
And that is exactly what Tony did for the next twenty minutes. He alternated deep, slow sucks of the entire cock with tongue-tickling the very tip, the ridges, and the frenulum. At every moment Tony was very carefully monitoring the boy, repeatedly bringing him to the edge of orgasm and then stopping just before he was able to cum. Compared to most guys he’d worked on, this straight biker was so easy to control it was laughable.
Inside the leather hood Phil was beside himself. He needed to cum more urgently that he would ever have imagined was possible. It had long ago ceased to be something he just badly wanted it was overwhelming him completely, and now it was a total, compelling necessity. The biker thought he would go insane if he didn’t cum in the next two seconds.
But at the same time the feeling was indescribably wonderful. It was by far the most horny thing he had ever experienced in his life. Even the restraints, the fact that he couldn’t move; and the hood, which the bastard had put on him so that he couldn’t see anything; the feel of the leather pressing over his face, and the gloved fingers teasing his balls and that fucking thing vibrating devilishly inside him - all of this was, somehow, perfectly right. Every one of those things was conspiring to make him feel controlled, helpless, and more horny than he’d ever felt before. And oh fuck, what that mouth was doing to his cock… no girl had ever done anything even approaching that. It was as if the bastard knew every single little thing that made him need to cum the most.
“Please! No more! I can’t stand it! MAKE ME CUUUUUUUUUM!”
Tony stood up, waited for a few moments, then pushed the boy’s cock down, and inserted it between the tops of his tight-jeaned thighs, squeezing his leather-clad muscles as tightly as he could around it. He reached behind him, found the protruding cock head, and began to rub just the very tip of it very, very slowly with a single finger and thumb. He clamped his other hand hard over the boy’s mouth, gagging him.
Tony knew that the biker was,more than anything, desperate for the entire length of his cock to be rubbed. Most guys gripped the whole thing when they wanked. He knew that working on just the very tip, and nothing else, would make it much harder for the boy to reach orgasm - but when he did eventually fight his way there and start to cum, it would make it a lo t more intense and also make it last much, much longer. A guy had once done exactly that to him and he’d never forgotten it.
A guttural moan began in the biker’s throat. The board creaked rhythmically as he tried to pump his hips, to fuck the leather jeans and the fingers. He was very conscious of the guy’s shiny, smooth black legs - and the hard bulge above them - pressing against his bare skin. And that fucking dildo buzzing inside him was making everything a lot worse. He’d never before had only the tip of his cock worked on when he was so close to cumming, and he longed for the whole thing to be rubbed. But the bastard was stroking just the end just the very tip - and so fucking lightly and slowly it felt like ants walking over it. He needed hard and fast!
“Fuck’s sake rub the whole fucking thing!”
Tony smiled to himself, and continued to tease his fingertips just on and around the slit.
Phil’s face was screwed up under the hood in concentration as he strained with everything he’d got to make himself cum, but he had zero control over it. The fingers carried on stroking slowly over just the fucking piss-slit. He needed more! The whole head and the shaft ached to be rubbed. He was very conscious of his cock clamped deep between the man’s thighs, the leather jeans holding it immovable; his hands were held well out of reach; and that fucking strap over his pelvis was stopping him from thrusting his hips. He couldn’t move, and every fucking thing was making it impossible for him to control any of it. And those fucking fingertips teasing the end of his cock were driving him insane. Fuck!
But he was getting closer. Very, very slowly he could feel himself getting nearer and nearer to the point of orgasm. The frustration and the need was becoming worse with every second that passed and there was nothing he could do about it.
Finally, just when he was on the point of screaming, it began - and it was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. As Phil had been getting closer and closer, a pressure had been building up inside him until it was almost painful. It had started gradually a hot glow pulsing through his entire body; the glow slowly increasing in intensity until it coalesced, centred on the very tip of his cock. Now, he was rightt here he was on the very edge - he could feel it.
“Oh fuck! RUB IT! RUB IT HARD, YOU CUNT!” If the guy stopped now he didn’t know what the fuck he would do.
But Tony didn’t stop. He didn’t speed up either he just kept stroking the tip of the biker’s cock head, slowly.
The pressure inside the desperate biker mounted quickly to an unbearable level and then, at last, the slow stroking of the leather fingertips across the tip of his cock gently but firmly nudged him over the edge.
He screamed into the gagging hand as the dam burst and he started to cum. He almost passed out with the intensity of it as the first huge gob of spunk shot out of his cock, coating the guy’s gauntlets thickly and lubricating them so that now the shiny black leather glided over the naked head. That abruptly made the feeling even more acute and intense. The fingers continued to stroke just as slowly, as gob after gob of spunk erupted, each individual spurt a spike of pure ecstasy. Tony’s fingers slid smoothly in a lake of white spunk as they continued to milk it gently out of the jerking boy; it oozed off the gauntlets, ran down the back of Tony’s leather-jeaned thighs and dripped down in sticky gobs onto the floor.
Phil’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut behind the hood and his head was thrown back as he yelled and yelled into the gagging hand and he came and came, between tight leather thighs and into spunk-slippery leather-gauntleted fingers.
It was as if it was happening in slow-motion: it was the longest orgasm he’d ever had it seemed to go on for ages. Phil’s whole body was convulsing with each spurt, the leather cuffs and the strap holding him helpless creaking and straining with his desperate movements. Throughout it all, Tony’s hand was barely moving just the fingertip and the thumb gently stroking over the piss-slit of the madly-jerking cock. The biker was pushing his hooded head hard into the leather-gloved, gagging hand.
Very gradually the boy’s movements slowed. The tension went out of his muscles and he dropped into the restraints, panting hard, his cock still pulsing with the last contractions, but more and more feebly. Eventually they stopped altogether, and it was over.
Normally, the moment he’d finished cumming he couldn’t bear anything touching his cock - but now, that warm glow was still there, and the fingers felt wonderful as they continued to slide gently in the thick spunk over his cock head even though his orgasm was over. He pulled at the restraints, not trying to escape, but just to feel them holding him helpless. He turned his head, nuzzling into Tony’s leather gauntlet, loving the feeling of the black leather over his face. His whole body tingled.
Tony turned the vibrating dildo off and gently pulled it out. He unfastened the hood and removed it.
Phil squinted in the light. “Oh fuck. Oh Jesus. That was fucking unbelievable.”
Tony looked at him. “So there’s more to sex than just a quick fuck, is there…?”
Phil was shaking his head slowly. “I never knew.”
“Most straights don’t. They go through life taking the piss out of guys who know a lot more about it than they do. And they miss a lot.”
“You’re not fucking kidding.” His eyes travelled slowly over Tony’s body. “I’ll never look at leather guys or leather - the same way again.”
Tony chuckled, and released the boy. “Now get the fuck out. I have things to do.”
Phil got back into his bike suit while Tony wiped the spunk off his gauntlets and his jeans with tissues. The boy smiled. “Thank you.” Then he added, quietly, “Sir.”
A corner of Tony’s mouth lifted in surprise. “Well that’s a start, I suppose. You know where I live, so if you ever feel like a ‘bit of bondage’ with a ‘leather queen’, I might consider it. Might.”
Phil lowered his head and smiled at that. Remembering his own words, he had the grace to look embarrassed. He nodded. “Sorry about that. And thank you,” he said again.
From his window Tony watched him cross the road and get onto his bike. He was a sexy lad, he thought. He turned away and went into the kitchen to construct an espresso.
He made a bet with himself: two days before that straight biker would be back.