Younger man gets the courage to meet an older man whom he met online...and gets a bit more than he b

I felt uneasy going to this house. I had never met anyone from an internet chat room before and had heard the bad stories, but assumed that for every bad one, there were thousands that went off without a hitch…but how did I know I wasn’t going to be the one in a thousand? I tried to put my fears to rest but felt my heart in my throat as I approached the address.

The home was unassuming. Nothing fancy, but it didn’t look like the rundown, dilapidated burrow that fit the stereotype that would give one a bad omen. With a shaky finger, I reached for the doorbell, but the door opened before I could reach it.

He was a husky, unshaven man in, I guessed, his late 50’s/early 60’s, a little on the heavy side, but didn’t look too intimidating. Perhaps a few years older than his picture portrayed, which begged to question, how long had he been on line arranging such hook-ups for himself? I knew I could still turn back…but it felt strangely impolite to do so.

I had never ‘been’ with a man before…at least, nothing like this. A little experimental playtime many years ago, but I was quite positive he had more in store for this evening than some simple show and tell. I had advertised myself as a virgin…at least when it came to intimacy with another man, and he had assured me that he had ‘plenty of experience with virgins’, but I’m now wondering if I should have had him elaborate a little more. Experience, after all, could mean many things.

He wasn’t offensive online, but not really what I would call a ‘gentleman’, either. He spoke few words. It was like he could read me like a book. Nothing really needed to be said, as far as he was concerned, I presumed. We both knew what I was here for. I just didn’t know if what I had in mind matched what he had in store.

“Going to stand there or come inside?” he challenged a bit gruffly. I followed him inside, expecting a few pleasantries to break the ice and ease the tension, but none came. He just walked down a small hallway, leaving me to close the door behind myself and follow him.

The home wasn’t much to look at. It appeared the basic needs were met, but it wasn’t going to make a home tour list any time soon. Mostly blank walls, a few token pieces of furniture, a TV…the basics.

I expected he was leading me to the bedroom; however, he opened a door at the end of the hall leading to a basement. He stood there waiting for me. This gave me a chill. I wanted to question this and express my reluctance, maybe to suggest that his bedroom would be more appropriate, but it almost felt ‘against the rules’ to speak. It went against my inner judgment to say nothing…after all, this was my safety we’re talking about here, but I felt even more afraid to challenge, and I’m sure he was drinking in my apprehension with a quiet satisfaction.

I walked past him, wondering if I was going to be shoved down the stairs as I passed, but that didn’t happen. Each step creaked, revealing the age of the home which I suspected was on pretty even keel with my host, until I was at the bottom of the stairs looking at an old, dingy basement. The floors were a worn concrete showing signs of possible water exposure over the years, though were dry at present, and the ceiling was riddled with a maze of piping of every sort…heating, hot and cold water, gas, drainage…and there were a few strategically placed lights that swayed slightly as they hung from their own wiring.

He stood before me crossing his arms as I took in the sight. I realized he was waiting for me…but to do what? He cracked a slight smile that could be seen through about a week’s worth of stubble and he glanced down at me and then back up towards my eyes with an almost impatient glare. “You came here for something?” he said in a rough whisper.

Obediently, I began to slowly undress…perhaps stalling…hoping that some excuse would allow me to suspend the planned activities and postpone this endeavor for another day, but no such relief presented itself. My shirt came off first followed by my shoes and socks. These seemed the least presumptuous. After all, we all go shirtless from time to time as well as barefoot. He seemed neither pleased nor displeased. Maybe it would be generous to suggest that his impatience was eased slightly, but even that faded as quickly as it started. I felt obligated to continue, and with almost the embarrassment and shame of a child handing back the cookie he took from the table without permission, I unfastened my belt and pulled my jeans down, pulling each leg out in turn, and discarded them to the side, but still leaving my boxer shorts on as a futile, modest last barrier.

I stood before him only making momentary, scarce eye contact. With him still fully dressed, I felt all the more awkward at this disadvantage. I stood with my arms crossed ashamedly in front of my barely covered midsection. Though his face didn’t break his serious demeanor, I sensed my frightened appearance stirred him.

He walked towards me and I tensed as I wondered what he was about to do, but he continued past me over by an old, rusty washing machine. I followed him like a lonely puppy, not sure if I was supposed to. The concrete was like ice on my feet and my whole, nearly nude body revealed my chill with goosebumps throughout.

He held out various straps and buckles of leather. At first I thought it was something he intended me to wear, but then I realized that it wasn’t that at all. They were bindings. He held them out before him, waiting for me to do something. Was I to put them on myself? I reached to take one from him and he just as quickly took the wrist I offered and began to bind it with the mechanical precision of a career sailor tying a knot.

I felt almost paralyzed in disbelief as he ran the restraints over the pipes above my head and fastened the other end to my free hand, which he took on his own before I could offer it to him. As soon as he was done, I watched him, though he didn’t look at me, as he pulled on an adjustment strap and my arms were pulled at length straight above my head to where I couldn’t even bend at the knee if I wanted to, elongating my previously sheepish posture.

He accomplished all of this as matter of fact as one would put dishes back in the cupboard after removing them from the dishwasher. Thoughts raced across my mind whether this was a good decision. I found myself wishing I had just passed on this offer to get together and I wondered just what he had in mind for me.

I bent my head back slightly to look up at my restraints and had the presence of mind to realize that no dust fell from the pipes, indicating that I was far from the first to be bound in such a condition in this place.

The coldness of the concrete was piercing and I felt all the colder with my arms extended above my nearly bare body. He was behind me. Still not talking. I could tell he was doing something or getting something. I turned my head to look back but was met immediately with a blindfold being placed completely across my eyes and nose. With one firm snap, it was securely fastened in place, and then a second snap to ensure it doesn’t come loose.

First rendered immobilized and now blinded, I immediately became much more aware of each sound. I could hear him silently walk a few steps…something being placed down…on the washer maybe. I could even hear my own breath and heartbeat.

I then became aware of his hands in the waistband of my boxers as he drew them down. There was no ceremony about it…there was nothing teasing or seductive, but it wasn’t violent, either. Just as casual as one would remove a washcloth from the rod on the bathroom wall. As they reached my ankles, I submissively lifted each leg without being asked and allowed him to pull them off completely.

The feeling of absolute naked vulnerability was indescribable. My nudeness coupled with being bound and blindfolded was beyond frightening but almost liberating in a strange way. At the least of it, my power of choice in this matter had been removed. No longer did I have to worry about what I should and shouldn’t do, but rather I had to worry about what will or won’t happen now, and that question would only be answered by him…and what made it all the more unpredictable was that I had yet to be touched. I wasn’t physically aroused, but wasn’t completely flaccid, either. I suspect there was a mix of anxiety keeping me in this semi-state.

I strained to listen. I could hear him moving about again. It was then I also heard something else. Something more distant. A door? Upstairs? Was someone else here or did he go upstairs? Am I to be left here? If so, for how long?

I began to hear footsteps on the stairs…coming down. I hadn’t heard him go upstairs, so who is this? Do they know about this? Is he about to be caught by someone? His wife? Friend? Family member? I then heard a new voice, yet equally coarse. “Nice” was all he said. “Mmmm hmmm” came the response. “On line?” the new voice gruffed. “Yup.”

The new man had a sort of musky smell of cologne that camouflaged a slight musty scent of cigarettes.

My heart was about to pound out of my chest. I was cold but starting to sweat. I could feel them close to me. I could tell someone was right next to my head when I heard a rough whisper in an unconvincing tone of reassurance, “Don’t worry, son. We’ll be sure your first time is a memorable one.”

I barely managed to work up the courage to reply. I knew I was visibly trembling. I wanted to tell them this was too weird for me. I hadn’t planned on two…or restraints…and I didn’t know who the other person was, but then again, I didn’t really know who either of them was.

With a shaky voice, I finally said, “I…I’m not sure…” but was cut off by a single, “shhhhhh”. I’m not sure which one of them said it and couldn’t manage to say anything else. To my embarrassment, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to stop.

I could hear a few more noises. The movement of clothes, zippers, and a coat…were they undressing?

I could hear one sounding like he was sitting down on something, but I wasn’t aware of where the other one was…or who was who.

Then, without warning, I felt a single hand grip my cock. It was the first warm thing I felt since getting down there. I almost welcomed it. In fact, my anxiety, sprung by this unexpected grasp caused me to erect almost instantly. “Oooo” came with a raspy laugh. “He’s ready.”

I felt completely embarrassed to harden so quickly. It was like my own body just betrayed me. I had no control left.

I began to feel hands on me. Two on my shoulders…from behind, and then two more on my front…on my chest. Each hand seemed to have a purpose as they moved about my body…searching it…probing. I felt a bit weak in the knees and I felt my erection harden all the more. My mind was screaming for it to stop, but my body was begging for it not to!

The hands ran the length of my body, all the way down to my feet. It was if they were manipulating a puppet. The hands in the front ran down my legs. They were large, firm, warm, and coarse, almost providing a slight scratch as they brushed my skin. They were older, experienced, and tattered. The hands from behind were equally worn as they moved down my back and across my bottom pausing a moment to firmly grasp each cheek at the same time, pulling them apart and upward for a moment and then releasing. I felt my entrance down there pulsate with expectation of manipulation, but it was ignored for now. “My ‘entrance’”, I thought. I hadn’t ever described it that way before.

I suddenly felt the pull of my restraints ease, allowing my arms to be free. We’re they letting me go? Did they not like me? I felt confused by this. I felt them unfasten one of my wrists, but then pull it behind me where it was refastened to the other, leaving the slack that straddled the pipe to dangle behind me and my wrists bound behind my back.

“Kneel down” came the rough whisper. I did so immediately. The concrete was solid under my knees, which were not used to kneeling on such surfaces. I sat there for a moment waiting to be told what to do next, but no command came. The wait was more uncomfortable than the concrete.

I started to ask what they wanted me to do, but as I opened my mouth, something was there…entering it. It was warm…kind of hard…and had a musky odor. I instinctively pulled away to talk, but the man behind me held me fast and neither spoke a word.

I gathered myself and opened my mouth back up and the man in front of me put himself back inside it. I formed a seal around the tip and feebly applied a bit of suction and then pulled my head back to pull it out like I expected I should. I hadn’t done this before. The taste was unusual for me. It was like a dry finger of someone who needed to wash his hands.

“Nice start” came the voice, “but you can do better than that.”

With a bit more determination and an eagerness to please, almost out of a strange obligation to satisfy my host or maybe fear of not satisfying him, I opened my mouth and seemed to know exactly where it was. I leaned forward and took it back in and gave it a bit more attention this time. I wasn’t exactly sure how to do it, but I went off of what I had done to me by women in my past and what I expected I would enjoy if the situation were reversed.

I applied a seal and more suction this time around, also becoming a little more comfortable with it and myself. I experimented a little, letting my tongue explore it this time, rolling it around his girth and feeling the texture. I also became aware of a salty, slick sensation as his precum began to secrete into my mouth. It tasted unusual. It was slippery.

With bolder strokes now, I pulled him in and out of my mouth…a little faster and with stronger suction. I could hear him let out a slight sigh…the first sign that he gave that gave away his satisfaction. I was getting into this a little faster than I had given myself credit for. I wasn’t aware of the man behind me propping up my bottom a little higher.

I felt almost congratulatory towards myself as my strokes and suckles began to take on more confidence, but all that stopped in an instant when I began to feel a hand rubbing up towards the top, between my legs.

All at once, I felt my uneasiness return. I lost focus on what I was doing and paused as I felt this hand searching and kneading my upper thighs and then my bottom. “Who told you to stop?” I heard as it snapped my attention back to what I was doing. I returned to doing deeper strokes with my mouth and tongue, but had a guarded sense about what was beginning to literally unfold behind me.

I began a sort of denial about what was happening by his friend by focusing all of my attention on my mission up front, but that wouldn’t last long. As my tongue flirted and my lips and mouth sucked deep strokes, I could feel him positioning my legs a little further apart behind me. I didn’t resist…in fact, I submitted more like someone who didn’t realize what was happening. Regardless, I knew more was coming than a quick feel.

I felt one hand grab my bottom…just on one side and give it a little squeeze, but it wasn’t like he was kneading it. It felt more like he was pulling it to one side a bit. Then I felt his other hand enter the tight space between. It felt different. Something unusual. Something sort of wet…maybe cold. Then, with a deep and thorough stroke, I realized what he was doing…applying lubricant.

I tensed for a moment as I felt his finger deliver a thick supply of what I suspected was Vaseline or some other product. It was slick, slimy…and he spread it liberally all over the lips and around the edges of my virgin entrance. As he was finishing, I jumped a little as I felt his finger force its way inside, spreading more of it inside me. I had tensed as he pushed his finger in there, a reflex response, but I became aware that the greasiness of this product prevented me from stopping his finger from going in.

I couldn’t ignore what was happening back there but didn’t know what would happen if I protested. I continued sucking and tonguing my partner in front of me, almost forgetting what I was doing. It was almost routine at this point, and though I varied the frequency and suction rates occasionally, I was fixating my attention on what was going on behind me. I took as much in my mouth as I could and closed my lips around the base and paused for a moment, seemingly for pleasure of the moment for my recipient, but actually to have a second to listen to the other man in the room.

I could hear something sort of plastic sounding. Like a candy being unwrapped…or maybe…(my heart jumped)…a condom wrapper. I felt myself tense and my palms bound behind my back beginning to sweat. I could distinctly smell the sharp scent of condom lubricants and latex. I closed my eyes under my blindfold and suckled and stroked my mouth and tongue a few longer, deep pulls and I was becoming aware of the breathing rate of my partner deepening and becoming longer.

I thought I could pull him out and perhaps rub it alongside my face while he came, but as I pulled back, his hand cupped the back of my head and held me fast. Suddenly, I felt his cock throb and pulsate, unleashing a payload of cum with each sharp spasm. My mouth filled instantly and then over-filled. I wanted to pull him out, but he held me fast. I could feel his cum trying to push out around my mouth, but his size prevented it…and I expect that my tensing up firmed up the seal. With the next subsequent pulse and unloading, I involuntarily swallowed a mouthful. I felt helpless.

I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I eagerly swallowed each surge of ejaculate as they came. At first, it was a feverish attempt to keep my airway clear, but as I felt him filling me, I became very aroused…much more so than I would have ever anticipated. I turned from resisting to making sure I didn’t miss a single drop. It was slick and a bit salty, but not so nearly unpleasant as I would have expected. There was a certain bond taking place…at least for me. Something very special and very private of his was filling me, and I couldn’t explain the sensation.

I sucked and rolled my tongue around the circumference of him and made sure each, thick drop made it out. I could hear his tough demeanor soften as he moaned and gasped with his orgasm and my eager nursing of him. I was surprisingly disappointed but enjoyably satisfied as his climax concluded.

I heard him catching his breath. I had an almost afterglow that I sensed about myself. A little proud that I had performed what I thought to be pretty well for my first time.

I was helped back up on my feet and my wrist cuffs were unattached from each other behind my back, but left fastened to each wrist. I had a sense of finality that this episode had finally concluded. It wasn’t so bad. In fact, I felt a little silly about my apprehensions from earlier. I reached one of my hands to remove my blindfold, but my hand was gently but firmly stopped.

All of a sudden, I felt a little weak in the knees as I remembered that there were three of us in the room. Only one had been satisfied.

On the other side of me, I felt the other man raising my other arm while the one that was stopped from unmasking myself was brought overhead to meet it. The bindings were run back over the pipes, reattached, and adjusted tautly once again. I was back to the position I was in when this began…completely naked and helpless with my bare feet on the cold concrete.

I felt two, coarse hands grasping my bare hips and holding me fast and I just as quickly began to feel his latex covered cock gently parting my bottom’s cheeks searching for its target. It brushed around and against my tight, virgin hole, applying slight pressure and slightly parting the entrance with only his very tip, ensuring it’s aimed at the correct spot. I reflexively tightened in opposition and felt a third hand on the center of my upper back…the hand of the one I had just pleasured.

His voice was a bit more caring now, but still stern. There was no room for negotiation in his tone, but it seemed nurturing to a point. “Just relax, boy. You’ve done real good so far. Just relax.” Feeling out of my element, I followed his instruction without question to the best of my ability. No sooner than I had tried to relax, the man behind me felt the change and took the opportunity to stabilize me by firming his grip on my hips and then pushing himself about a half inch inside me.

It hurt. It hurt more than I imagined it would. The angle with me standing also felt awkward. I tensed right up, but the lubricants allowed him to move in another quarter inch. “OW! OW! OW!” I pleaded in protest, no longer caring about anyone else’s feelings. He could have proceeded further in and I couldn’t have stopped him, as slippery as I was down there, but he stopped on his own…yet he didn’t withdraw.

“Relax, boy, relax” came the voice again. I concentrated as best I could and managed to make myself relax against my better judgment. He pushed in another half inch a little easier this time…and then a full inch. I clenched, my eyes squeezed shut and my teeth gritting. I let out a breath in almost a whistle through parsed lips, having not realized that I had been holding it, and then gasped in another short breath. It was exhausting…it took every bit of energy I had left. He held this position fast while my body learned to accommodate his partial length and full girth inside me.

I didn’t know what I had to do to make this easier on myself. I tried standing up on my toes to give him a more direct angle, and then I tried arching my bottom outwards towards him. I only seemed to flex my leg muscles more doing this, which in turn flexed my muscles in my bottom. The only thing I really accomplished was to squirm around and he took the opportunity to maneuver himself deeper into my body. The elongated position of my body as a result of my arms being outstretched above my head by my bindings complicated my efforts.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally felt his pelvis coming into contact with the cheeks of my ass. I found myself pushing into him with it, like I was trying to get him as deeply into me as I could, which seemed odd; however, I suspect it was to drag out this entry as long as possible before what would most likely be an inevitable withdrawal followed by a subsequent entry…fearing it would be probably faster.

His hands transferred from my hips to wrapping one of them around my waist. I could feel him step closer to me…sort of underneath me, but still standing. He held my torso steady with the arm he had around my waist (as if I could go anywhere) and then pulled himself about 90% out of me with one, smooth pull. My mouth opened in response to the sudden relief and relaxation of the removal, but as soon as he was almost out, he began his next push in. I was very thankful for the lubricant, even if it did render me incapable of controlling him.

The 2nd thrust was a bit faster this time, but it didn’t hurt quite as much. It wasn’t rapid or ‘all at once’, but any time he felt me resist, he slowed down, I relaxed, and then he proceeded to continue in, though he never really ‘stopped’.

I became more aware of pleasure with the 2nd stroke. I had no idea it could feel so good. I figured women were more likely ‘wired’ for pleasure through intercourse, but I had an exhilarating combination of pleasure and some pain which both coursed through my body like waves than ran from the center of it all at the point of insertion and then outward like ripples on a pond from a thrown rock. They echoed to the top of my head to the tips of my fingers and toes, and then reverberated backward. It was a total harmonic of exotic pleasure that I had never experienced and an almost liberating pain that I freely welcomed at this point as the price for the pleasure I was experiencing.

I was overwhelmed with sensation. My body had learned to accommodate him…taught expertly by its master, whom I suspected had been through this before. His gyrations were smooth and frequent now, but not fast. I felt some discomfort still…a sort of soreness, but it was tolerable, especially considering what the payoff was in the form of the sensations that were electrocuting my pleasure points and nerves.

I found myself leaning forward now, being held up only by my restraints of my arms that pulled back outstretched above and behind me in this forward leaning position, my bottom arched towards him as much as I could present it to him, inviting him fully into me. I was even rhythmically moving myself on him in time with his thrusts, which were now becoming more rapid and forceful. I no longer was aware of the coldness of the basement, nor did I care. A small bead of sweat was forming on my brow and back. My skin was blushing as my temperature was rising. I was getting out of breath.
I heard his breath rate and level changing as his friends’ did earlier. I knew what was coming. I felt a hand…or maybe hands…grasping my cock and stroking it suddenly. I don’t know if it was the man who was mounting me or his friend. I didn’t care. I was no longer analyzing the situation, but all I knew was it felt great. The thrusts came slower now, but much more forceful. One…then two…then finally a third, strong thrust, far deeper than the ones before. His pelvis was slamming into my bottom to where my ass cheeks jumped and jiggled with each plunge.

My eyes rolled back in ecstasy when I was momentarily startled back to reality with a sudden sting. With his free hand, he had cracked my backside with a firm, open palm slap. It woke me up for a moment. It excited me, but I just as quickly found myself drifting back into pure pleasure…then another spank came, stinging the tender flesh that surrounded where he was having his way with me. I found it made me tense a little, gripping him a little harder internally for a moment. It excited me all the more; quickening my heart rate…and then I just as quickly would drift back towards pleasure.

I was no longer there. I didn’t know where I was, exactly, but it was indescribable. He pulled out of me completely for a moment without warning or explanation, but then entered me again fully. He repeated this a couple of times, until he remained out for a few seconds pause, and then reentered. As he did, I was immediately aware something was different. It was still him. I recognized his shape and girth, and he hadn’t let my waist go, but there was a certain absence of elasticity…and it was warmer…smoother. He let out a long, “Ohhhh!” He had pulled his condom off!

I should have been concerned…maybe I should have yelled, but I was too far-gone. I welcomed it. It was so much smoother…so warm, so natural…so wonderful. I stood back up as best I could from my leaning forward position and leaned my head back towards him. “Oh, fuck me” I purred as I felt the warmth of his body near my back as he continued to work himself in and out of me.

The hand stroking me continued as I felt another under my balls, cupping, rolling and massaging them. I couldn’t hold out any longer. Hands glided and stroked down my cock when I suddenly burst into orgasm. I have no idea where it went or how much there was, but I could feel it gushing from me like a ruptured artery. With each ejaculation, I could feel my bottom squeezing his cock during each pulse, though it didn’t change his fast, violent rhythm. It increased friction and therefore, my pain, but I didn’t care. After about 5 pulses, I heard his breath and moans working up.

He finally gripped my waist more tightly than he had up until that point…almost in a suffocating death grip. He gave me one more thrust of himself and finally I heard him let out a guttural, gasping moan and then I felt the hot, wet, throbbing sensation of him releasing himself into me.

Throb after throb, I felt his fluid streaming into my body…filling me. He stayed as deep inside me as he could manage, his pelvis squeezed tightly against my bottom, completely sealing my entrance with his cock. I wasn’t able to count the surges nor how long they lasted. I just knew I was full down there, as my stomach was from his friend earlier.

He held me close and kept himself fast inside me as his ejaculations finally subsided. I could even feel his erection starting to soften a little as he finally pulled himself out of me. His breathing was labored, but catching up and stabilizing. “That was fucking awesome”, was all he said. It was the first thing I heard him actually say since the brief exchange with his friend when he first joined us in the basement.

I stood there for a few more minutes still bound and blindfolded. I didn’t say anything. I was exhausted. Maybe they were going to leave me there for a while…maybe weeks…who knows? But I didn’t really care at that moment. I was numb and tingling.

Maybe they liked looking at me completely nude, deflowered…perhaps humiliated. But they finally unbound my wrists and my blindfold was removed. Once I could see, the first thing I realized was that his friend was gone. He had already gone up the stairs and left, though I never heard him.

“Will you be joining us again?” my host asked. It was the first cordial thing he had said to me the whole time. Did he know I wanted to be dominated? How could he? But he knew. I couldn’t help but smile. “I’d like that” I answered. “Don’t let your wife find out,” he said.

I was taken off guard. I suddenly felt my concerns return but he quickly said, “I’ve been doing this long enough, son. Don’t worry, if you keep doing what you’re doing, your secret’s safe with us.”

“What ‘if’ I don’t live up to your expectations?” I challenged. He chuckled. “Sorry my dad had to run so fast” he added. His ‘dad’? He must have been in his 70s! This didn’t bother me at all, surprisingly. In fact, I found it kind of erotic that this man had his way with me, though I never saw him. It was kind’a dirty…in a good way.

I got dressed and cleaned up in his bathroom a little, and then made my way towards his door. I was a little sore walking, but still felt that glow about me. I felt completely satisfied and pleasured. As I headed out the door, my host said, “I may have a costume for you next time…but you may want to do a little looking around your wife’s lingerie drawer.”

This request wasn’t expected, but it excited me. The man shut his door as I reached the end of his walkway and I drove home with me new secret experience buried discretely in the confines of my memory.