seems i've always got something on the tip of my tongue.    ©

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

The Saga of J: Part Three

Well. It's been a few months in the offing, but here it is. The next installment of The Saga of J. (GayBoy and WhippedBoy, do NOT pass "Go". It's one of those postings.)

I've had a lot of people on my case about this one. Honestly, it was hard to write. I must've started it a dozen times. In the end, it's written in a completely different voice. It had to be. This was this experience that essentially transformed me sexually.

You can read part one here, and part two, here. You'd be a fool to start here.

So, without ado... By the way, part four? Partially written, but don't hold your breath. Probably two weeks or so. Not three months. It's down to time, now, not inspiration/approach, which is a good thing.


bound and blind. an auspicious start? perhaps, but for a newcomer to the biz like i’d been then, it was daunting and unnerving.

j. had left some minutes before. the music playing now had switched off from the familiar depeche mode to something more stripped down and bare, demonstrative of the position i found myself in, bare, sedate, and throbbing ever so gently.

periodically, in my manmade darkness, a clatter or a thump could be heard from the kitchen down the hall from where i lay. from what i could tell, he was rummaging through the cupboards for... things. food, perhaps. what else, i had no idea.

it was all so new, so mystifying, and now, so teasingly delayed. my nerves began to taunt me a little. if trust had ever been an issue, now wasn’t the time to think about it. i couldn’t have done a thing in my defense. my ankles, bound. my wrists, bound.

a scent was wafting towards me. a candle, perhaps? some mockery of strawberry, a suggestion of vanilla. aside from that, i had nothing to go on, thanks to the blindfold.

then, a padding of feet and a creaking of hardwood. “miss me?”

“well...” i muttered. “what else is there to do?” i grinned.

thunk. clatter, rattle. he set something down on the bedside table, next to where my head lay. it sounded like a tray with... maybe some dishes? nonetheless, a mix of sounds that told me one thing: there was more in store than i could know at this point. my mind began spinning through possibilities but was soon interrupted by a feathery finger tracing across my jaw. it dallied up over my chin and traipsed over my lips.

“it’s okay,” he whispered. “everything’s just fine. remember... i’ll stop any time you want. just say the word. do you want me to stop?”

i shook my head. deep down inside, stopping now seemed easier... wiser. but, oh, that curiosity niggling inside me. what would he do? there was just one way to find out. and now, it seemed i would do just that.

or would i? nothing was happening. silence, except for that dirty throbbing little bassline thumping in the background.

then, something cold, wet. a drop on my torso. something cold, moist, ever-so-slightly bristly, and curved was tracing up my belly, over my chest, then stopped on the edge of my lips.

“open,” he whispered, and i did. j teased it over my lips before placing it in my mouth. irregularly shaped and bristly all over, i cautiously sank my teeth into it. then... ooh, juicy. sweet. delicious. what is that, i pondered. chewing, i tasted a little more... oh, strawberry. a beautifully ripened strawberry. i smiled and swallowed, my apprehensions beginning to melt away.

until now, my body was as restrained internally as it was externally. i relaxed and shifted for comfort, at first, then for the tease. my legs fell into a slightly more open, available angle. yep, i thought, this could be all right after all.

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