GAY BONDAGE - GAY SEX STORY
Hairy Bear Cub Dante
“Imagine your hands tied behind your back while
you suck my balls and cock. Think about being blindfolded
while I play with your body? Do you want me to go that
far? Do you want me to go further? You see, I need to
know – and how you’ll signal your limits.
And I want your consent. Think about all that, and tomorrow,
if you say ‘yes’, we can go back to my place
after work. I’ve got a special room. Okay?”
That’s how the gay bondage scene
started. Dante and I had both been hired to fix this
guy’s roof and chimney. Dante’s a roofer;
I’m a mason. And right from the get-go, I saw
him giving me the twice-over. Sometimes when I looked,
he’d brush a nipple with his knuckles or rub his
hand over his crotch. Then, during our afternoon coffee-break,
he sat beside me, grazing his forearm against mine.
Accidentally? No, because the way he made eye contact
left no room for doubt.
It was summer and we had both taken
off our shirts. His muscular chest has a nice covering
of hair, and he has a sexy moustache. But his eyes,
dark and penetrating, are his best feature. I stand
four or five inches taller than Dante, probably outweigh
him by fifty pounds, and have a lot more fur.
Suddenly he broke the silence and said,
“I want sex with you so bad I can smell it. You’re
built like a brick shit-house and you’re hairy.
I’ll also bet you’ve got the dick-of-death.”
That’s when I spelled out my
preferences – and conditions. I’m fairly
new to the gay bondage scene, but a couple of encounters
had shown me that I like taking charge, that I enjoy
getting good-looking men to kneel and beg, especially
big guys. And I wanted to test Dante.
“I will think about it,”
he replied, “and thanks for being up front, Eric.”
After work, as we headed for our trucks, he called over
to me, “I’ll try not to jerk off tonight.”
The next day we had our shirts off
again – it was a scorcher – and sweat was
pouring down our bodies. When he looked at me, I couldn’t
read any meaning, but I was now the one having a hard
time keeping my eyes off of him. His thick shoulder
muscles glistened in the sun, and I was imagining holding
on to them while watching that moustache brush the tip
of my cock – if he said ‘yes’. But
I wasn’t going to ask.
Dante, the cock-teaser, waited till
the afternoon break. Then he sat beside me and pushed
his furry arm against mine. It felt good. He was all
man.
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