Grégory

Sweaty Tie-up
in Satiny Shorts

Chapter 1
Why stay indoors on a warm sunny afternoon?

Hi, I thought this would be a good place to tell a story that took place a while back – in the eighties. I lived in the remote suburbs of Paris. It was a sunny summer afternoon. I was just back from summer camp, having been gone two weeks, and I decided to visit my neighbours from down the street.

They enjoyed football – soccer – as I did so I thought I'd ask them if they'd play. They were three brothers, the elder, Philippe, was older than I was by a year. The two other ones, Cédric and Hervé (names changed to protect the not so innocent) were younger by two and three years. I was fourteen at the time myself, though I didn't look my age. My voice had not broken yet; though three feet lower, things had started changing a bit, if you see what I mean.

I rang the bell and Cédric came to open. We greeted quickly and I asked:

"In for playing some football?"

"Well, no sorry, Hervé and I gonna have to leave in half an hour; we're going to Steph's for the afternoon."

Steph was my nemesis at school, and I had no intention to ask if I could tag along.

"Is Philippe in, though?"

"Uh…"

He hesitated. I was quite eager to spend the afternoon with someone, since my own brothers were away. I wouldn't have minded playing football with Philippe, or just hanging around rather than spending an afternoon getting bored. On top of it, Philippe was quite a hot guy. He wasn't very tall, but he was rather well built. And as he wasn't a really good football player, I'd win.

Cédric let me in, and as we entered the living room, he asked his brother.

"Hey, Hervé, do you think Phil would be glad to see Grégory?"

"Hell yeah, everybody's always glad to see Grégory."

I didn't blush, for I was quite aware of being the cute guy in school. I got offered to go out enough by girls to know this. And I had started noticing a few guys checking me out too. I just ignored the weird comment, though.

"Come with, he's in his room."

The three of us climbed the stairs, all dressed in our football outfits. Them in green shorts, me in red. Their jerseys were yellow; mine was blue. All the gear was Adidas, and in these years, it was quite tight and shiny. I followed them inside Philippe's room, and there my jaw dropped. Not because of what Philippe wore, he was dressed as we were, his Beckenbauer shorts were black, his jersey yellow, and he wore black shoes with long yellow nylon socks; but I had never seen someone as thoroughly trussed up on a chair as Philippe was. There were neat coils of rope of three different colours wrapping him at the shoulders, chest, waist, the top of his thighs, above and below his knees, with his ankles tied to a chair rung too.

"Where did you get all this rope?" I asked.

"Philippe got it from a bin next to the climbing club," Cédric answered, "They must have bought some new ones, so they threw out tons of them."

I approached to get a look at the rope. It came from various batches, but there were more coils on the desk behind Philippe, whose eyes only could follow me around. As I came closer, I could see his head pinned to the chair back with two belts, one over his forehead and one over his mouth, a small cushion between his skull and the chair's slat.

We had played quite a few games with someone ending up hands tied behind the back, or tied to a tree with twine, but boy, this time it was serious business. Seeing this teen – more mature than I was, he had quite hairy legs – all powerless did cause some slight tingle inside my satiny shorts.

"Why did you gag him like this?" I wondered as I saw that there was a copious amount of tape underneath the leather belt, and probably something stuffing his mouth.

"We leave the window open, so it doesn't get too hot, and we don't want him to be heard outside." Hervé exclaimed.

From the annoyed grunt Philippe produced, I doubted he would have really called for help even if he'd been able too.

At the same time, venting the room was a good idea, for the prisoner was sweaty, and it smelled once I leaned over him to look at the rope work. Hervé went on explaining that since Philippe had found the ropes, just after I left for summer camp, he had had them practice tying him up. So they'd gotten better, since in the beginning he always managed to escape. But as they were about to leave, they'd have to untie him because they couldn't leave him bound and gagged by himself. It sure was strange to say all these things in a very matter-of-fact way, but I just listened to him and his brother occasionally adding a detail or two.

It was Cédric who actually voiced out what I didn't dare ask: "But if you stay with him this afternoon, Grégory, maybe Philippe can keep playing the prisoner? You'd like that, wouldn't you Philippe?"

The unintelligible grunt could have meant yes or no, but it didn't stop us from interpreting it as yes anyway. "We should move him a bit, he's been tied up like this since this morning," Hervé suggested.

"Good idea," Cédric added. I helped a bit as the two siblings went on working on their brother, and I took in all the knots and technique I could from their expert job. Soon, Philippe was trussed up like a turkey on his belly over his bed. They had bundled him up in a tight hog tie, his hands almost reaching his crossed ankles, his knees spread wide, which gave a nice view on his round and muscular buttocks wrapped in the black nylon.

Cédric and Hervé neatly put away the left-over ropes, rolling them in tidy coils.

"OK, we gotta go, untie him a bit before five, that's when the parents should be back."

I looked at the alarm clock on the night table. 2:30: this left me quite a little bit of time to play with Philippe. Literally.

I started by taunting him for letting his little brothers make him a prisoner, then threatening to take him to the nearby woods and leave him tied up to a tree. Then, as I came a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the mattress, I started running my fingers along his flanks. I wasn't aware of this fact beforehand, but Philippe was ticklish. He squirmed around quite a bit, but I didn't quit.

It was fun to see him writhing and making muffled sounds only, thanks to the well-packed mouth and the sticky tape trapping the wadding. I had gone on for almost half an hour when I stopped. I put Philippe on the side. His face was all red. Years later, I was surprised to hear that tickling someone who was gagged could be dangerous, but, well, if all the stupid things I did when I was a kid had turned out for the worst, I wouldn't be here to tell you about this.

He was breathing heavily through his nose. He looked at me with pleading eyes and grunted something. He looked uncomfortable.

I decided to remove his gag to find out if there was a problem. It dawned on me that I was in charge of Philippe on all accounts. I slowly peeled the numerous strips of tape plastered over his lower face and collected the spittle covered mass of cloth that was trapped inside his mouth. Damn! Black Speedos! This made for a big ball of material.

"Hi Grégory," were his first words. Not remembering whether I had greeted him also, I went on straight to the question:

"Anything wrong?"

"Uh… I need to pee."

Dang! Would I be able to tie him up back again if I left him go to the bathroom? Or would he refuse? It was too much fun keeping him this way. I made a bold move as I rushed to the bathroom and fetched a plastic bowl.

"Hey! What the…"

"Shhh," I said putting my hand over his mouth as I came back. "I won't let my prisoner trick me into freeing him. But I don't want a messy accident," I laughed.

He was still on his side, so I grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down as I could, lowering his briefs at the same time. As I didn't manage too well, since his position didn't make things too easy, I plunged my hand inside his briefs and took his tool out. It was turgid all right, and sweaty, and it did smell of dick but I pretended not to notice.

Actually, I tried to convince myself that the boner I sported for the last forty-five minutes had nothing to do with the hot piece of maleness I had under my thumb.

"Go ahead," I said in an assured voice.

Though my hand had long left his mouth, he kept quiet. He closed his eyes, and I felt his dick soften slightly – he must have been a master at yoga and self-control -and he relieved himself. I put his apparel back once he was done, went to empty the bowl of piss into the sink, rinsed it, washed my hands and came back inside the room.

I had not tickled Philippe's feet because his brothers had left his shoes on, but then it got to be very tempting. As I looked at the form hog-tied on the bed, I got to thinking…

Chapter 2
Babysitting can be fun sometimes

OK, it's not like all these ideas came up out of the blue. I'd had fantasies about tying up guys before. And about the possible fun I could have. However, this little time I'd spent with a helpless Philippe, all wrapped up in nylon and ropes, sweating, and struggling did fuel my creative thinking. I closed the window so we wouldn't be heard from outside.

I went to the side of the bed; I tickled him some more, rejoicing in his relentless laughter, and being rather turned on by the solid piece of wood tenting his satiny shorts; I then asked him if he was thirsty. He was, so I went back to the bathroom to get some water. He hadn't seen I'd grabbed the Speedos he'd kept in his mouth since morning; I felt like adding to the slimy touch.

I lowered my shorts and my white cotton briefs. It didn't take long before I came into the Speedos, as I narcissistically looked at my cute blonde face in the mirror over the sink, stroking my five inches proudly with my right hand, holding the gooey nylon in the other, thinking of the hot bundle I was going to play a prank on. I pulled my feet out of the briefs and shorts that were at my ankles, since I didn't feel like wearing my cotton underwear anymore.

I then cautiously cleaned up my shaft before pulling my shorts back up, carefully tucking my manhood inside; I turned around and looked at myself in the mirror a final time, with my butt tightly lined by the shiny material even more, since I was sprouting another boner already.

I went back to the bedroom with a big plastic cup full of water in one hand, Philippe's wet piece of underwear in the other, hidden from his view. He was still patiently waiting, hogtied on his side, and turned to me; his square face, his blue eyes, and his messy black hair all made him look SO appealing. I brought the cup of water to his lips, and had him drink it all.

"Thanks," he said as he was done guzzling down the half litre of cold water. I didn't let him go into more polite talk as I shoved the soggy nylon into his mouth. I dried his lower face with my jersey's sleeve, and criss-crossed a few pieces of tape over his lips. I then wrapped three or four turns of the 2 ½ inch-wide roll of tape around his head, making sure his lower face was well covered and the Speedos would remain where they were.

"Enjoy the taste?" I asked. "Like the taste of me?"

His eyes widened as he realized his underwear was cum-flavoured – with my spunk!

"Hmmmph!" he grunted, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Calm down, I can't believe you don't enjoy it, you little stinkpot!"

With the window closed, it was getting a bit stuffy (the bedroom was just under the roof and the sun was beating hard this day). And I was getting quite turned on by the musky smells we both developed. I was about to move on to the next phase.

I leaned over to unlace my Ilie Nastase sneakers – these were the 80s, remember – giving Philippe a nice view of my red nylon-clad butt. I removed my shoes, and then my sweaty white socks. I held them for a while, and took a sniff. I thought Philippe would enjoy getting a whiff, so I placed them over his taped mouth, with the toes, the smelliest part, just under his nostrils. A couple more turns of the roll of tape ensured they'd remain where they were. Interestingly, it added to the inflation of the black satin encasing his crotch.

I climbed onto the bed and leaned over Philippe to untie the rope linking his ankles and wrists. He stretched his legs and had a satisfied grunt. The position must have gotten a bit uncomfortable after a while, I guessed. I pushed him back on his back, his hands still tied behind him. I knew it had to hurt a bit, but I didn't intend to leave him like this for too long. I straddled his thighs, facing his feet and bent over to untie his ankles before I'd remove his black leather sneakers.

I tickled his flanks with my toes a bit, and there was some shaking and squirming from the boy bound underneath me, but it didn't deter me from going on. As I pulled his left shoe off, my nose was told he'd worn these socks for longer than since this morning. "Ewww…" I whined, "You don't change socks too often, do you?" I craned my neck to catch a look at Philippe's face; he let out a low annoyed grunt as our eyes met.

It's really strange that as inexperienced as I was, I managed rather well to use the ropes; I had had a little time with the cub scouts, so I knew basic knots and lashing, and my lusty, kinky mind got me to find out the rest of the solutions. Soon Philippe was tied with his legs spread out, each ankle tied to the footboard, his feet sticking slightly out of the mattress. His arms were pulled to the side, wrists linked to the bed's feet.

I added ropes at the knees, waist and shoulders that I tied to the bed frame. He would have a hard time bucking and writhing as I planned to "torture" him a bit further. I picked up his smelly socks I had thrown on the floor, and jumped back onto the bed, sitting on his belly and looking at him intently. I knotted the two tubes of yellow nylon at the toes, and I tied them on top of my own socks, the scent of which he was already enjoying. A knot tied behind his head meant he now was prisoner of both sets of stinky toes.

As I sat up straight, my butt went a bit further back, and I could feel that the stench was turning him on further. I wriggled my butt against his hard-on a little, and I got him wild, as he was trying to extend the soft caress by the nylon stretched over the soft mounds. I moved further back and sat between his spread hairy thighs, propped on my elbows that touched his calves.. I pulled my feet up, and softly laid them over his stomach. From there, I slowly moved them up towards his face, wiggling my toes in a tickling motion until I had both feet pressed against the layers of socks covering his lower face.

"Like them piggies, hey?" I joked as my captive was still displaying a consistent woody.

I don't remember precisely the sequence of events that ensued. I know that I had fun with his feet, since I had found a feather on his desk, that I tickled his boner through his shorts and overall enjoyed seeing Philippe writhe and squirm, his muffled grunts sounding like moans of pleasure. I even ended up sitting on his chest, and locking my blue gaze into his as I wanked in my shorts.

Just before I came, I pulled my cock out and lowered it, aiming at his face. I didn't miss, and a splash of semen covered his nylon covered lower face. I then spread the whitish liquid all over with my softening sex, even going to the extent of rubbing his nostrils with the tip of my dick. I couldn't believe what was driving me so wild. That's when the phone rang.

Chapter 3
I guess I'll be at it a little longer

The phone ringing got me out from my post-orgasmic haze in a jiffy. I had a quick look at the alarm clock as I jumped down from the bed. Quarter to five. Darn, I had to untie my prisoner before Philippe's parents came back. I went to answer the phone on the landing, since it was likely it was my own parents calling to ask what time I'd be home.

"Hello?" I said trying to control my breathing, for I felt like I had run a few miles.

"Grégory?" A mildly surprised voice said. I identified the boys' mother quickly.

"Yes, Mrs T., Philippe's not in, he should be back soon though."

"That's fine; just tell him we're staying over at his aunt's, we won't be back before lunch tomorrow. I already called his brothers at Steph's; they're staying overnight. Are you sleeping over, Grégory?"

Wow, this family sure helped me out a lot so I had some private time with Philippe. We had had sleepovers with Philippe and his brothers as far as I remembered. And since the summer before, we had had their house or my parents' for ourselves a few nights. Which meant playing football until dark, then Risk or Monopoly until ungodly hours, cooking spaghetti and when at my place watching videos, since my parents owned a VCR.

"Uh, may I?"

"Sure, I'll call your parents to check if it's OK with them."

There was little risk it wouldn't be OK with them; my parents usually enjoyed having nights to them in the summer if they managed to get rid of all three of us.

"Thank you, Mrs T."

"No problem, tell Philippe he can fix the left-over stew for your dinner. There's ice-cream in the freezer."

"I'll tell him. Have a nice evening."

"You too. Take care."

I hung up the phone and grinned. It meant I had all evening, night and morning to take care of my prisoner. I rushed back into his bedroom, after getting a plastic gun in Cédric's. It sure smelled musky in there. Instead of grossing me out, it got me back into lustful mode. I was totally intoxicated by all I saw, heard and smelled, and completely overwhelmed by the whole situation. I stripped off my jersey, and approached the spread-eagled boy, brandishing my toy gun and getting into character for going on with the game.

"Sorry, prisoner, but I just had your parents on the phone. They haven't collected the ransom yet."

"Mmmblmph!" Philippe grunted back.

"Yes, it's annoying; it means I have to keep you here a little while longer."

Another muffled growl and some hampered thrashing around conveyed the message: Philippe was only too happy to play the role of the hostage in distress. A slightly darker patch on the front of his shorts told another story. I sat on the side of the mattress, and was about to have more fun with Philippe's expanding crotch when the phone rang again.

"Maybe the ransom is ready?"

"Mmmmph!" Philippe said shaking his head. I doubted he'd be happy to be freed at this point. I went to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Grégory, my mom told me you stayed with Philippe overnight?" Cédric piped joyfully.

"Yes."

"And I'd bet Philippe can't come to the phone right now?"

"No, he can't. Any message for him?" I was eager to get back to playing around with my captive, so I didn't trigger a lengthy conversation.

"Not really, but if you keep him bound longer, he'll be happy; he told us he'd like to see what happens if you spend 24 hours tied up."

"I'll check out with him. And I have to untie him to go to the bathroom, at least."

"Do you?"

"I'm not gonna wipe his butt, Cédric!"

I heard a grunt from the bedroom, but its meaning still was ambiguous. There was also a pause on the other end of the line. My statement did cause some thinking here and there.

"Yeah, I guess," Cédric said, with just a hint of embarrassment. "But other than this, keep him tied up, I'm sure he'll like it."

I knew about Philippe's taste all right, I'd had the occasion to witness it myself, but the eagerness his brothers would have in telling me just got me randier, it didn't raise any concern I could have felt at the beginning of the afternoon. While I pictured a few of the things I'd do to Philippe next, I tried to remain calm and non-committal over the phone.

"So, what are you guys and Steph up to?"

"Ah, the usual, he got this movie from his cousin that should scare the crap out of Hervé; it's called The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so we're going to watch this when it's dark. We're gonna have a table tennis tournament before."

"Good, you guys have fun!"

"Yeah, you too! See you tomorrow; we'll be back round eleven."

"OK, see you then."

After putting the receiver back into its cradle, I picked it up again to call my parents, not wanting to be disturbed once more in my games with my bound buddy. It didn't take long, but that being out of the way, I was back into business.

I searched Philippe's brothers' bedrooms for more gear to make my wild ideas come to life. More sportswear, a few rolls of tape, a couple rubber swim caps, and other items of interest were collected in a canvas bag.

"So, prisoner, I got orders to detain you here longer."

Another bout of tickling with me kneeling between my friend's thighs got the expected results of helpless squirming, tears welling up and the dark patch spreading a bit more. I didn't fare much better, as I noticed my shorts were turning crimson where the tip of my swollen member rested. I thought it wasn't fair that I could tent my shorts as heavily and that Philippe could keep a little modesty: I untied his legs, lowered his shorts and briefs, then put his shorts back on.

Of course, it was a bit difficult to get his puffed-up, leaking manhood back inside, but the tight elastic waistband allowed to trap the said manhood within the confines of the gleaming black material again. I was left with his Speedos; yes, Philippe must have a nylon fetish, he wore Speedos under his Beckenbauer shorts. I inhaled deeply, with the crotch area a centimetre or two from my nose.

It was a rich and pungent aroma; I was fascinated by both the smell and the effect it had on me; I discovered the attraction I could have for things that would have seemed repulsive had I been told about doing them a few hours earlier. Philippe started moving his legs around, pretending he was trying to get free.

I had another inspired idea. While taunting him and telling how he had no chance of ever escaping my control, I fetched two coils of rope previously unused. I grabbed his left ankle and looped some rope around it that I carefully knotted. I then pulled his leg up, and back down next to his head; once I had tied the end of the rope to the headboard, his foot would remain close to his head. I did the same thing with his right leg, then patiently untied from the frame the ropes that had kept his lower limbs down, and used them at the knees and thighs to keep him pinned on his back, his butt sticking up and any motion being once again made impossible.

"You're my little prisoner who can't run away, aren't you?" I teased him as I pulled the Speedos I had just stripped him from down on his face, managing to have the crotch area just over his nose, which now had to be taking in only odours of sweaty feet and boy cum. Back on the bed, I kneeled in front of him, my thighs touching his stretched buttocks.

I lowered myself, putting my hands besides his ribs, until my boner rubbed the satin covering his butt crack. I went into some hip grinding, and so did Philippe, to the extent that the ropes allowed him to. I thought of ripping his shorts and going all the way, but as it was a first, I still couldn't figure out how it could be done, and I still wasn't comfortable with the idea of sticking my weenie up his derriere.

I flexed my arms and came closer to him, and at the same time moved forward a bit, until I felt, separated by two layers of satiny nylon, our cocks stroking each other. I brought my face to his, taking in the various aromas he was a captive of, and I shook my hips so the rubbing of the material was at its softest. I gave Philippe some dirty talk I wasn't aware I knew, and I could feel him shivering underneath, and grumbling into his thick gag.

A tension was building up in my loins, and I kept on moving, having more control over the situation and wanting to bring my captive friend to orgasm. As I sensed his restrained body quivering and shaking in spite of the restraints, I lost it completely and started moving around frantically. He shouted through his gag as we both came together. I kept on humping him like crazy as the warm wetness invaded my shorts. I dropped over him, panting, telling him how good this was, our blue gazes locked, while he gratefully grunted.

Chapter 4
Now that I've learned the ropes

I slowly removed the Speedos that covered my friend's face, as it gave his gaze a strange feel to it, with his -nice blue-- eyes barely showing through the underwear's leg openings. I unknotted his socks, and then peeled off the tape that held mine. Now he just had his lower face covered by white surgical tape. I fetched tissues from his desk and cleaned as much as I could of the cum that our shorts were full of, inside and outside. I disposed of the wet tissues in the paper basket before I went back to my prisoner.

I tickled him a bit further, getting him to wriggle around in his tight bondage. I eventually had a look at the alarm clock. It was six already. I wondered aloud: "So, what should I do with my prisoner?"

"Mmmph!"

"No, I ain't gonna set you free, silly! But I saw the cover of a comic book that I thought rather inspiring," I looked around the room, "but I can't do it here. We'll have to go to the kitchen."

I had just remembered the beam that would make my endeavour possible. Philippe's puzzled look was reinforced by a questioning "Mmph?"

It was almost forty-five minutes later when I was done. I had walked my bound captive downstairs, after a job involving some tedious untying/ tying back up differently. I pushed him down the hall, his wrists and elbows strictly united by rope in the back, pieces of cord having been bound to his knees and ankles to hobble him.

I admired the nice reflections on the silk knot tied at the nape of his neck, which I had tightened lovingly as I had reinforced his tape gag with a black silk scarf. I had also changed his shorts to some navy-blue Umbro ones that belonged to Hervé. They were quite tight, but not compressing, though the stretching quality of the material was needed. I put a similar pair on, they fit just perfectly, and I discarded our stained shorts on a nearby chair.

I was enthralled by keeping Philippe under control at all times. It wasn't too difficult. He played along with my role-playing of a villain without resisting much. Just what was needed to get me into role-playing even more, waving my plastic gun around.

That's how I managed to achieve my first creative tie-up. After efforts and lots of thinking, I could admire my rope work: Philippe, just wearing shorts and thoroughly united to the 2-inch vertical beam that stood between the kitchen and the living room. This had to be a remnant of a former partition wall; the wooden pole turned out to be handy for what I had thought out.

It took a little experimenting to wrap neat coils of rope around his legs and then around the pole; I eventually developed a proper technique. Once he was encircled at the ankles, knees, thighs, waist and shoulders, his arms well roped to the pole, I took the longest rope that was in Philippe's plentiful supply and criss-crossed it from top to bottom, turning around his body and threading it carefully through the existing knots and ropes, cinching the various circles a bit tighter every time.

I made a point to get a very symmetrical result, as I commented while toiling, "You won't get away, Philippe. And it's gonna look really good."

"Mmmph?!"

I beheld the final result from various angles, feeling a pang of self-satisfaction at the display of pure beauty I had helped to come to life. Philippe, shirtless and hugged by tight satiny shorts was already a treat to watch, but the rope network keeping him bound to the pole enhanced his good looks-not to mention the clever V made of cord that framed his package and pulled the nylon taut over it, making the shiny dark bulge the focus of attention. At least, to me; I was fascinated by the show.

My stomach grumbled, and so did Philippe's in response. I laughed.

"We've come down here for dinner, time to get started on this."

I was eager now to hear from my captive on how he had felt during his ordeal. The whole activity I'd had untying him to bring him downstairs and trussing him up to his pole had brought me back to reality. Here I was, alone with one of my friends in inescapable bondage, and loving every second of it; I had to find out more about what he enjoyed in these games. I unknotted the various towels and scarves gagging him so he could answer my questions.

Once I had him spit the soggy nylon that filled his mouth, I gave him some water to drink. He guzzled down over a litre of fresh water in no time.

"Thanks Grégory," he gratefully sighed, out of breath after drinking so fast.

"You're welcome; I'd like to chat as I fix dinner."

"What about?" Philippe wondered out loud.

"About what you want to happen next. Or maybe about what you and your brothers have done already. This could inspire me also. Am I the first outside your brothers who tied you up?"

"No. You're not the first friend of mine to play tie-up games with me and my brothers, and you're not the first to tie me up."

My curiosity was stirred by the acknowledgement of another player. My eyes betrayed my interest, for Philippe continued:

"It's Nicolas. My brothers trapped both of us last week-end."

Nicolas! My curiosity was not the only thing his revelations stirred.

I'd had dreamy thoughts about Nicolas who had the same swimming training I did. Over the school year, it seemed he'd become lovelier and lovelier. He'd grown out of the soft chubby body to gain a more defined one.

His buttocks had lost some of their plump but none of their roundness and seeing him strut around the pool in his nicely hugging Umbro swimwear was a treat for the eye. So imagining him squirming on the bed by Philippe's side, dressed in his tight tracksuit as Philippe was telling me, it was just heaven of the mind!

I was amazed by Philippe's willingness to confess he played a role in getting Nicolas hogtied along with him. He had suggested to his brothers that as Nicolas was coming for a sleepover, being both kidnapped by his bros would be a cool activity for a couple hours. Therefore, as Philippe had left to go to the bathroom during the evening, Cédric and Hervé had made short work of restraining and silencing Nicolas.

Philippe had come back to his room to find his friend standing in the middle, bound with ropes and heavily gagged. Of course, he had pretended not to hear the mmmphs of warning Nicolas had emitted with more and more insistence as the two kidnapping brothers had closed in on their older sibling. Philippe was trying to remove the knot tying the first scarf used to gag his friend. He spoke reassuringly, telling him that once untied, they'd give Cédric and Hervé what they deserved.

He was cut short by the rugby mixed with judo attack that had ensued. Nicolas was able to witness the whole methodical procedures that led to Philippe being as unable to escape or protest as he was.

"So the meddling little snoop wanted to counter our illegal activities? It's not gonna happen, we'll keep you tied up here while we clean the warehouse. Then you can always go to snitch on us, it'll be too late."

Hervé made a good impersonation of the evil drug lord, to the exception that an evil drug lord would actually get the meddling snoops killed, but Hervé thought that this was much more fun anyway.

Philippe admitted that the two hours he'd spent on the bed with Nicolas, hogtied but able to fidget around so he could snuggle up to his cute friend had been "really nice". This triggered another question from me; yes, I was vain at the time.

"So do you prefer being tied up with Nicolas or being tied up by me?" I asked as I went to the stove to stir the stew that was heating up. There was a blank in the conversation, but Philippe didn't hesitate for long.

"I like both, I think what would be really nice would be to get tied up with Nicolas by you."

I heard the smile in his voice though I had my back to him.

"It may be arranged some time," I said as detachedly as I could. This was a rather nice prospect, and I'd make sure to remind him of it once the time would come. "But tell me a bit about all this weird stuff that you like. It's surprising, but some of the games we played this afternoon were really enjoyable, and I'd never thought someone would like this besides me," I prompted.

Chapter 5
Polling at the pole

Philippe explained that his brothers had lied about when they'd started having tie-up activities; it had gone on longer than since the beginning of the month. They had become quite skilled over a year or so. He didn't tell me right away he'd done the sock stuff before, but he admitted that he'd always enjoy his smelly feet guiltily, not really understanding why the tang of footwear after effort gave him such a kick.

I opened up to him on this issue, explaining I was strangely turned on by these odours too. We discussed the fine points of what made some feet smells pleasant, even though strong, and some others rather repulsive. I confessed my attraction to seeing him all tied up, and how much excitement I had experienced over the afternoon.

He had discovered he wasn't alone the week before, as Steph had done the exact same thing I did. The despised name goaded me into asking a question so fast I didn't pick up the inconsistency of Philippe's tales, since he'd earlier told he'd never been tied up by someone else.

"Steph? What did you guys do?" I asked. I came to stand in front of my captive. My tone must have betrayed some annoyance, for Philippe blushed and looked down; he soon lifted his head, looked me into the eyes and revealed more of his experience.

"We were playing football last week, but then the light drizzle we'd had in the morning turned into some real downpour early in the afternoon so we had to get inside. We were alone, and we went to my room to play. There was a piece of rope, and as Steph wondered about it, I challenged him to restrain me. He was only too glad to do it, and as he removed our shoes to get on the bed, we noticed the smell of our feet."

Ok, so that's how he'd hooked with a fellow-sock sniffer.

"We'd played in the wet grass, so they'd gotten damp fast, and had enough time to simmer inside our plastic shoes. Steph saw me wriggle my nose, and this must have been enough of a signal. He removed the socks and stuck one of mine inside my mouth, and the other was used to trap it where it was."

Philippe went on explaining how he'd been tied up, and he hinted at some sex stuff that had occurred. Whereas I felt comfortable, playing around with him while he was bound and gagged, and discussing fetishes, I didn't dare ask him more details about what had actually happened.

I shifted back to the topic of tie-up activities, eliciting the descriptions of the various ways Steph had him trussed up and silenced. I made mental notes of all he said about the hogties, the different manners to bind arms, the experiments he told me about to allow for the least possible noise.

My nose and ears got me back to the present and the simmering stew. It was time to take it off the burner. This stopped our conversation, and silence ensued; this was the first time I could talk about such private matters, and it was both scary and exhilarating. I hoped my confidences would remain secret, and I rejoiced in knowing I wasn't a freak.

We ate, with me bringing the pan and feeding each of us in turn with a fork. After I gave him more water to drink, I set up spending a quiet evening. I grabbed a small towel, crammed it inside his mouth, and trapped it there with a long rolled dishtowel. Another one was used to blindfold him, and I was ready for more fun.

"I'll be right back, just wait for me, I giggled as I quickly ran upstairs.

I soon was walking down the staircase, the soggy briefs I'd left in his room in my hand. I figured he deserved some desert. I stealthily came back to the kitchen; he shivered as I ran a finger over his chest.

"Mmmmmph!"

"You're welcome," I teased him as my hand slid further down until it reached the nylon of his shorts. I softly stroked his cock through the slippery fabric, taunting its bulging head with the tip of my index finger. I got a vocal reaction that took the form of a muffled and frustrated moan, and the shorts inflated. I was getting used to having Philippe react in the limited ways the restraints and the muzzling allowed, though it still caused an identical stirring in my loins.

I lowered his shorts, stepped behind him, and grabbed the erect, turgid sausage in my right hand, sliding up and down the shaft.

"You're excited full-time, you horny little beast, you!" I chirped, regretting my still high-pitched voice that prevented me from acting the credible stud I thought I was.

I didn't have to worry too much about my ability to make other boys happy, since soon, I felt my worked-up friend just about to burst out once more. The Speedos in my left hand collected the squirting jism, each rope of semen accompanied by a stifled groan of pleasure coming from behind the towels.

"You wanted this bad, hey? You know what, it gives me ideas." I removed the blindfold with my right hand and stepped back in front of the trussed up Philippe, rigidly standing against his pole. I pulled his shorts up, tucking his manhood away from plain view. His misty eyes thanked me for preserving his modesty or maybe for allowing him to discharge again.

I undertook to add to the amount of cream. He grunted as he saw me jack off in his Speedos, my eyes locked into his, a quiet smirk on my lips.

"Yeah, you're not the only one to get all thrilled up by your stories," I thought as the combined view of Philippe and the idea of a bundled up Nicolas got me steadily to the apex of sexual joy. My own cum spouted into the already sodden briefs, and I got my little friend back under its layer of dark nylon.

Philippe expected what came up next. I unknotted the long towel and emptied his oral cavity. He let out a satisfied sigh and took willingly the rolled ball of Lycra stuffed with cum in. The wide adhesive tape neatly helped to cover his lower face, a few layers of the shiny white material enhancing the grey-blue colour of his eyes, while efficiently sealing his lips.

"It's gonna be tougher softening me with your words," I joked. The recent orgasm had indeed deflated our members, but I'd have bet it would only be temporary. Touching his lips as I smoothed the tape had already triggered a new arousal, though it would take a few minutes for it to become visible.

I pulled a rubber swim cap over Philippe's hair; he quizzically looked at me.

"I want a very quiet and subdued prisoner, and I'll get one," I whispered.

I adjusted the stretchy rubber so all of his thick hair was covered, and his ears were not bent underneath. This mattered greatly since I intended to mummify his head; I didn't want it to hurt once I'd remove the tape. I wrapped his head three times from his chin to the top of his head, locking his jaws; I added three turns around his lower face to keep the previous plastering in place.

I snatched a roll of gauze from the bag I'd brought downstairs. I unrolled it over the tape I'd just stuck. I placed the small cushion his brothers had used when they had tied him to the chair behind his head and kept on unravelling the gauze, now imprisoning the pole as well.

I worked methodically, which maybe would have made my mom proud, since she often complained of me being messy; in the end, only Philippe's eyes could be seen. He batted his long eyelashes; I was now realizing how beautiful his eyes were.

"My own little statue," I cooed as I let my fingers run over his muscular chest again.

Looking down, I noticed he twitched his feet. Completely motionless? Not yet! I took a 2-foot long piece of kitchen twine from a dispenser next to the stove and kneeled down in front of my prisoner. I carefully knotted his big toes together. I was done this time.

Standing back up, I leaned towards him again, basking in the suave and intoxicating smells his sweet body exhaled from bottom to top.

"You'd like me to wank you again already? Tasting juice gets you going again? Why don't we take a little break?"

"Mmmmbll!" he disapproved.

Truth be told, I was still horny, but the repeated climaxes, and the hard work of taking care of my captive boy were starting to take their tolls. So I spent one hour watching TV in the living room. Philippe couldn't see the screen, but I made sure he caught a good sight of me from the corner of his eye. I let him admire in turns my tanned legs and their golden stubble, my butt, my torso, by taking various poses on the sofa. I went to check on him a couple times, ensuring his excitation rate remained at an acceptable level.

Wouldn't you know it, the third time around I had my share of my immobile, helpless captive. There was one more thing I wanted to do before partially releasing him. I went to get his parents' Polaroid camera. There was film in it, and still the flash bulbs. I carefully aimed for three pictures, admonishing my model not to move. That's how clever I was back then.

A shot from up front, one from the side, with all his body visible, and a third shot was taken of his mummified head. I let the pics to dry on the table. Of course, I was rewarded by priceless subdued protests from Philippe, who this time had to be genuinely annoyed at my behaviour.

"It's getting late," I said, ignoring his dissent, "we'd better go to bed."

I wrinkled my already slightly upturned nose in a disgust grimace.

"But maybe Mr Stinkpot needs cleaning up a bit before?"

My humiliating comment got the expected result. His only body part that could move jerked inside his shorts. I undertook to free my prisoner from the pole starting with his head. I removed the gauze, freeing his head from the beam; however, I left the many layers of tape trapping the rubber cap and the spunky Speedos inside his mouth.

Next came the long rope criss-crossed around his body and the post. I got his arms untied from it too. He pretended he was fighting, but his thoroughly trussed up legs made the attempts useless. I looped a coil of rope just below his shoulders, pulling his arms to his torso; then, pushing him a bit forward, I tied his wrists together behind his back.

At last, I could free his legs so he could walk, though I left him hobbled with a little over a foot of rope linking his ankles to prevent any kicking. A hand on his shoulder propped him forward. I collected the toy gun.

"Move, prisoner! And no funny stuff, or else…"

Chapter 6
Shower me with your love

Philippe turned around and gave me a pleading look and the now customary "Mmmph". I couldn't help bursting into laughter at his puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, my cute prisoner, yes…"

As we were passing the toilets door, I then wondered whether he meant anything else besides proving me that he could play his role well.

"Need to go in there?"

He nodded strongly.

"Mmmh… The big one?"

The second nod was shier; though our intimacy level had highly increased over the last few hours, some things were still a bit private. I still did not intend to have him use the toilet in front of me and wipe his butt. Anyway, Philippe had not given me any trouble, and I had my weapon. This was a small room with bars on the window, and just the toilets and a sink, so there wasn't any risk of any escape attempt; I could go on role-playing the villain quite credibly, while avoiding this embarrassing situation.

I used my most threatening tone, which had to sound quite ludicrous at the time.

"You may go in, but no funny stuff." I was not very well versed in gangsters talk.

I freed his wrists, but ordered him to leave the rope encircling his upper arms and NOT to touch his gag. He submissively nodded, entered the room and closed the door.

"Don't lock it! I'd hate to have to shoot the latch," I growled – or at least I tried to. "You've got three minutes."

I moved away when I realized I'd hear everything, which made me blush. What kind of pervert would take pleasure in listening to his friend taking a dump? I let my mind wander a bit, considering how to handle the cleaning of my prisoner. I eventually heard the flush signalling Philippe was done.

"Now wash your hands, and stand facing the wall."

I heard the tap running, then being turned off.

I abruptly opened the door. My captive stood with his back to me, his wrists crossed in the small of his back.

"Wrists to elbows," I ordered, needing him to have his hands out of the way later on. Two pieces of rope were used to keep his forearms together. Then, keeping him under the threat of my plastic gun, I had him step backwards into the hall. I lead him into the bathroom, guiding him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Mmmmbllmm?" he grunted inquiringly as I had him step into the shower, shucking off my shirt and following him. He had to be questioning the fact we were both still wearing our shorts.

"Yes, they need a little cleaning too, and I don't want you running around naked, do I?"

Of course, we both had some wet patches in front, as we had leaked a little pre-cum since we'd been quite horny since our meal. Nevertheless, if shorts needed cleaning, they were the Beckenbauer ones that had collected our sweat and bodily fluids resulting from our attraction.

As for the nudity comment, well, it was sheer hypocrisy on my part, since I had actually watched Philippe's genitals shamelessly, as I had displayed my own; but there was something I found extremely attractive: a pair of buttocks lined with shiny nylon. My ulterior motive was also to see, knead, and rub against the wet soapy shorts, which seemed a feeling that would please me very much.

I closed the shower's glass door and got the water running. It soon was at the temperature I wanted, on the verge of cold. Feeling the dried salty sweat being washed off by the flow was a reviving feeling. Only one pair of hands was available for the two of us, but it got busy enough to give both bodies a thorough rinsing.

I turned the tap off, grabbed the shower gel bottle and undertook to lather up Philippe's chest. My crotch pressed against his butt as my hands moved towards his armpits and then up and down his torso. I took care of my own upper body, hence cutting off the contact between my throbbing boner and his soft, pert buttocks. It was quite refreshing.

I then surprised Philippe a bit, as I pulled his shorts' waistband from behind and squirted a generous amount of gel that ran along his butt crack. I poured some gel inside the front of my shorts, before getting close to him again; I pulled Philippe's elastic and squeezed the bottle of gel to cover equally his cock and balls with the gooey liquid. I let the waistband snap back into place with a wet sound and I put the bottle back on the ledge to have both hands free.

Both our sets of genitals then got some gratification, his from my hand touching him through the fabric with my fingers occasionally getting inside, kneading his shaft all the way down to its end, my straining dick rubbing against his backside, comfortably nested against his butt crack, the smooth gliding of the gel-coated material releasing this slippery sensation. Feeling the warmth he released and the supple touch of his skin made me lose my mind.

Imperceptibly, he had moved. I felt Philippe pushing me until my back touched the cold tiles of the shower's stall wall. He arched his back, his forearms just below my rib cage and his firm buttocks pinning me against the wall. I kept teasing him with my hand and his louder, muffled "Mmmph!" implied a request. From the way he was grinding his hips, it dawned on me he could be asking for more than what I was giving.

"You want me to stick my willie up your butt, is that it?" I whispered into his ear.

His vehement nodding and his begging grunt proved me I had guessed right; Philippe was actually leading me wherever he wanted, even though I'd had the illusion of control for the last few hours.

I had to act fast as we were bordering another orgasm. I lowered our shorts down to our ankles quickly; our cocks freed from the nylon sprung up. As I stood, I got mine up Philippe's crack. It didn't take too much exploring from me, as Philippe wiggled and pushed me to the shower wall. I felt my glans touch his butt hole, or more accurately his hole assaulted my cock.

He had gotten me to do his will, and he took me up his arse. Soon my sex was wholly engulfed by warmth and well-being. I wrapped my right wrist around Philippe's jutting boner, and from there, a little jerking and twisting from the entity we had created got our two brains to explode in a whirlwind of endorphins as our cocks spurted their semen.

I moaned in delight as I kept on rubbing his slowly deflating member. I was ecstatic. It was my first fuck, it had gone smoothly and I had loved it. My "So good, so good!" were echoed by his gagged growling. I needed to share with Philippe about what had just happened. I got the water flowing again to rinse my hands from the suds as I slid out of him; I then removed the tape-gag and the rubber swim cap hastily. I spun him around and grabbed the Speedos he chewed on.

I couldn't help it. His mouth being available, I parted my lips and kissed him. It tasted strange, the obvious cum taste, the somehow stale one of the nylon that had brewed inside, and the distinctive sweet flavour of my friend's mouth.

Our tongues rolled and writhed, going from his mouth to mine and back. Woo hoo! It felt great, even though we'd taken each step in a peculiar order. We eventually broke the kiss. The conversation I expected didn't happen. We were both breathless, and besides "Yeah!", "Thanks…", and "Wow!" not much came out.

I got the water running again, and shampooed him, then me, the touch of his hair having me melt again. I soaped us anew, and my massaging hands got us swooning some more, with little animal grumbling from us both.

A final rinse in even cooler water washed down the suds covering us, and I was able to plant another kiss on his lips, as the flow was dribbling all over our bodies. I got our drenched shorts back up. We were clean; I felt now as clean in my head as I was in my body, having shared my most intimate feelings with my friend.

I cautiously led him outside the shower, making sure he didn't slip since his helpless arms put him at risk in case of a fall. I stood behind him, and wrapped him into a big towel. I rubbed him tenderly from head to toe as if catching every single drop of water on his body was a matter of life and death.

As I stood up before performing the same treatment to myself, I heard "Grégory, are you gonna untie me?"

I could hear some regret in his voice at the prospect that I could be tired of the game and that I would let him loose. I didn't want to disappoint him after this wonderful moment.

Clamping a hand over his mouth and bringing his head to rest on my shoulder, I whispered into his ear: "Shhh. You're my little prisoner. We wouldn't want you to call out for some Prince charming to come and rescue you, I want to keep you all mine."

He nodded, and I felt his lips kissing the palm of my hand. Or did I really? Was he such a charmer?

My free hand caught the roll of white tape on the sink and I made a quick job of sealing his lips, then plastering his lower face again, as he grunted mmphs of pleasure.

I got dried, took another dry towel to do the job on our shorts again all the while enjoying the various contact I had with my sweet prisoner. Then, making a tremendous effort getting back in character, I laid a hand on his shoulder.

Chapter 7
Silent night, holy night

"Up to the torture room I got you out from," I threatened.

And thus we walked through the house and we reached Phil's bedroom, with just shorts on, Philippe moving gracefully despite the restraints, and me holding on to my bag filled with supplies. A look at the alarm clock told me it was close to midnight. You might imagine that my idea at this point was to have a go at another fucking session. I had the opportunity: a bed, a willing partner, my inhibitions overcome.

But now, I actually wanted to lay down, cuddled against a bound Phil and relish in a good sleep. That's what the nine hours of sex and six orgasms will do to you. Even when you are fifteen.

I had Phil lay down on his belly on the left side of the bed and I bound his legs together. I freed his arms, turned him on his back, and tied his wrists in front in a praying position, palm to palm. All he pinned them against his chest with nifty shoulder straps made of rope that also circled his upper arms. I locked him in this pious situation for the night. Lying next to him, I whispered:

"Good night, prisoner. I'm going to keep you mine forever, bound and gagged so you'll never escape my claws."

I stroke his navel with my left index finger to illustrate how ruthless my claws were. Draping my left arm over his torso I turned on the side, putting my left leg in the ridge between his. My lips brushing against his tape-covered cheek, smelling both the shampoo's sweet fragrance and the bed's musky smells, I soon fell into a deep slumber.

I don't remember what I was dreaming about that night. It must have been sweet; maybe I was not even dreaming since there had not been enough time for me to go into the REM phase -- When you eyes move under their lids indicating you've reached la-la land -- and I was told how I reacted to what happened only much later on. My memories of being overtaken start with me fully restrained. But those who were there told me I struggled and protested.

When I became aware of this cowardly assault my wrists were bound behind my back. My ankles were tied as well. Someone was laying over me. It was a boy. I tried to clutch at his genitals that were within my grasp; he bended to get them out of my reach.

My assailant clamped his hand over my mouth and whispered in my ear.

"No use struggling. I've got you good, Grégory."

I gave as much of a fight as I could but he was right. I fumed and the attacker moved on to trussing me up further; I vocally protested. Sadly enough, letting him know he was a jerk, a loser and a turd and explaining how I would pay him back once I would take him over didn't slow him down in wrapping me in ropes.

I kept insulting him but the clammy hand covered my mouth anew, which made my screams a droning sound without any of the usual sharpness or edge my quick retorting can carry. The hand got off, and as I opened my lips to, at last, let out a flight of nasty remarks and various screams, something was pushed in between. It was damp, it was slimy, it was nylon. The cogs in my brain, activated by the huge amount of adrenaline pumped into my system for the last two minutes quickly make out what it is: Phil's Speedos I had left on the bathroom floor.

A plentiful amount of tape to insure that I wouldn't bother him by spitting the swimwear out and some piece of material knotted at the nape of my neck to keep it all together, and Steph, whom I had now identified as the stalker, was in charge of two bound and gagged guys.

Not getting any response didn't prevent him from being happy as he worked on both Phil and me.

"I knew about your taste for ropes, Phil, but I had to see for myself that our little blond heartthrob had been converted to your kinky games. I must say you guys exceeded my expectations. My, Grégory, a guy tied up in his own bed, that's some teddy bear to fall asleep with. Hey, quit squirming! I'll finish with you later on."

Philippe had not moved at all, but it would have been difficult for him to help me out on this one seeing the state he was in. Steph did not stop with me being trussed up: he moved the two of us around so we were sitting on the side of the bed, hands behind our backs and restrained, lips truly sealed.

"I really like being able to talk to friends who don't argue."

Friends? This was some news. But my grumbling only caused him to smirk.

"Don't wanna be my friend? That's too bad; I'm going to pretend you are. Then, you can play with Phil and me."

I must have looked surprised because he laughed.

"Yeah, Phil loves playing 'Smell my Socks' with me! It's a fun game and it's not too difficult to learn. Let me get some props."

He left the room. I grunted, writhed and turned on the bed, and Phil got my cue. He did the same so I could reach the knot tying my wrists. But that was easier said than done, for I had a really hard time even finding it, my arms being quite hampered by the coils of rope encircling them. I eventually located the knot, but I had tied it quite well. I now have to figure out how to undo my thorough job without seeing what I was doing.

"The love birds want to fly away, hey!" Steph sardonically said as he came back much sooner than I'd have wanted.

"They won't play a nice game with their friend Steph?"

It was weird having the tables turned on me. What puzzled me the most was that his role-playing was not that different from mine just a short while before. And I didn't mind too much being on the receiving end.

As Steph stood in front in his satiny blue shorts, his blue gaze, his full red lips curled upwards at the side gave me another impression of him. The bulge in his shorts, in particular, convinced me he was "one of ours".

"I made some interesting discoveries about what you two did today."

He threw the Polaroids of Phil roped to the beam next to me. I had left them on the kitchen counter, in plain view. This was a mistake. But there was more to be found, as the shorts we'd worn all afternoon were still on the chair, to my great shame and dismay. Steph picked them up, looking at them with interest.

"It seems you had some fun."

The dried cum that copiously coated the front betrayed the type of fun he was referring to. I blushed over the tape.

"You know, I like playing games, Phil. Oh, I might as well explain to Greg here. From what I heard from Hervé and Cédric, these pics and the way of fun new, Phil didn't get many opportunities to tell you about the games we play. To make a long story short: he loves being tied up and having to smell socks all sneakers. I guess that's what one would call a foot fetish. You might want to get initiated into these games, Grégory?"

I didn't reply to his rhetorical question.

Chapter 8
New games, different players

"I'm gonna start with a different one, though. I'll call this game 'whose shorts are these?' It's quite simple. First I'll make you blind."

He grabbed a roll of tape and sealed our eyes with short strips. This was much more effective than the scarf.

"The rules are quite simple. I'll have you smell the two pairs of shorts; then I'll ask you whose were the first pair, then the second! Let's start with you Greg. First pair."

The tang was immediately perceptible. There was dried cum, and our dicks' odour. Tough at first to guess whom it belonged to. But far behind the sex smells, I also identified my mum's washing powder. I know he got my suspicion confirmed when Steph offered a second pair to my appreciation. The strongest musk, and the smell of Phil's sweaty body that I had grown familiar with were unmistakable.

"Were the first shorts Phil's?"

I shook my head no.

"Were they yours?"

I nodded in approval. He repeated the same question about the second pair, prompting me to reply since I'd gotten the confirmation from my nose that they were Phil's.

The whole procedure started over with Phil as a contestant. In the end, Steph softly pulled the blindfolding tape from our eyes.

"You know each other well, lover boys, for you both won!"

I cringed a bit at the mention of being considered an item, while enjoying the general feeling of not being made fun of by my archenemy.

"What should I do with them shorts now?"

He already knew the answer, as he folded Phil's so as to have a square that he pressed over my mouth. The crotch was over my nose, so I inhaled the intoxicating odour. More tape was wrapped up around my head to keep them from falling.

"So, you're good at sniffing, let's try another doggy skill. Let's see how horny you guys are."

He had us stand up and hop to the middle of the room so we were shoulder to shoulder.

"I'm gonna time how long it takes to get two randy hounds like you to come. I'll start with our new contestant here…"

He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest, proudly showing his fancy LCD display watch. It conveniently featured a timer.

"Ready, steady, go!"

He pushed the start button and his hand plunged inside my shorts. He grabbed my boner and pulled it out from its silky envelope. His right wrist was quite supple, and the whole handling, once my first angry fit at being thus played with had passed, got me back into the mood for pleasure.

As he hadn't said whereas he expected me to hold on, or to explode as fast as possible, I let myself go.

The heavy mass of smelly nylon that was just below my nose, the tight bonds and the heavy gagging, they all lead to me losing track of time. Very soon being overwhelmed with lust, he must have felt I was about to spurt, for he grabbed something that was stuck at the back of his own shorts under the waistband.

"Three minutes and thirty-eight seconds," he announced as he collected my bursting semen in the sock he'd just taken hold of. I lowered my eyes to see, it was one of Philippe's I had left in the kitchen. Steph was quite into the sort of stuff we were. Or, maybe I was into the stuff they were.

After milking my softening dick and summarily wiping it with the sock, he put my tool back into its smooth case. I could feel a little dampness spread around.

However, Steph intended to get another fountain to spring as he went to provide similar ministrations to Philippe. I admired the handsome member from the corner of my eye. It seemed to be stretching as a smooth hand ran up and down, Steph's pinky tickling the nut sack.

The same sock was used to gather the generous amount of thick liquid Phil let out.

"Four minutes and twelve seconds," our tormentor joyfully piped. "You win, Grégory!"

I realized he hadn't mentioned whether the first or the last to burst out was supposed to win. It allowed him to pick a winner of his choice regardless of the results, and it was me.

He tucked Philippe' manhood back inside the shorts. What had I won, though? I got the answer soon enough.

"As you're the fastest one, you win the right to sniff the contest's production."

The prospect of having the piece of stinking material forced onto my nose pleased me only mildly. I let him know, and I could hear Phil being vocal also.

"Mmmmph! Mmmgrmmbllmm!"

"Mmph! Mmhphmmbllmm!"

"I knew you'd like it, Greg; sorry, Phil, but there can be only one winner."

Some layers were removed from the mass wrapping my lower face, and I could easily guess what was about to happen. The soiled sock came to complete the stained shorts to remind my nose of what boys' emissions were like smell wise.

"Now I've taken such good care of you, time to return the favour."

I felt my wrists being released but he tightened the rope linking my elbows; some grease was smeared onto my palms; then Steph's cock found its way between my hands. He pulled me back against him with his right hand. He leaned forward, with flaring nostrils taking in all the aroma from the pungent gagging mass.

"Be soft and gentle," he whispered in my ear.

It's tough to say if he fucked my hands or if I wanked him. Anyway, his groaning and the accompanying geyser were signs of an orgasm, so did it truly matter who had caused my hands, back and maybe his belly to be dripping with warm gism?

I heard him pant in my ear, mumbling dirty words of satisfaction. He rested a short while; I kept kneading the deflating piece of flesh. Eventually we withdrew.

He wasn't totally out of it; the next thing he did was to bind my wrists again. Then he had us hop back to the bed and sit on the edge.

Chapter 9
Beyond my wildest dreams

I pricked up my ears. There was noise downstairs. Steph noticed, but he was in no apparent state of panic.

For Steph to remain calm was all fine and dandy, but I wondered whether he'd heard there was someone downstairs. It wasn't time for a robber to break into, as Philippe and I would have been quite unable to scare amount. My concern grounds triggered last from Steph.

"It's okay, Grégory. I was expecting those visitors."

He tightened a knot as I heard a joyful party climbing the stairs. I immediately identified two voices addressing a third-party.

"He's been obedient so far, why is he getting more difficult?"

"Faster, prisoner!"

I heard some motion on the hall's carpeted floor, a loud smack resounded, and I identified the ensuing muffled grunt as belonging to a boy; he appeared on the threshold. It was Nicolas, whom Hervé and Cédric pushed forward inside their brother's room; shouldn't I have known, he was adequately trussed up and hobbled, a wide scarf covering his lower face and most certainly hiding more layers over a well-stuffed mouth.

"Here he is, Steph! We did just what you said." Cédric proudly said.

"He didn't give you any trouble?"

Hervé frowned; he appeared shocked at the idea that Steph could think they couldn't manage the straightforward tasks they were assigned.

"We had quite a bit of fun demonstrating how to clean up a captive. I think Nicolas did, too! Anyway, it looks like Greg and Phil had some entertainment themselves."

What puzzled me most was how they'd managed to complete the ten-minute walk from Steph's to their home without being seen by anyone, as Nicolas was dressed only in his swim briefs, his arms tightly linked to his torso with white ropes, and his legs hobbled at knees and ankles with no more than a couple inches of slack. I then wondered about Nicolas' willingness to indulge in the sort of games Philippe and his brothers played.

As he lifted his head and gazed over at Steph. I perceived a smile that reflected in his eyes underneath the heavy scarf encasing his face.

"So, Steph, our mission is complete. We delivered the hostage to you, now we're really exhausted, we're gonna go to sleep," Cédric said.

"Sure, don't worry, I'll take it from here."

He stood up and went to Nicolas. I couldn't get my eyes off my little swimming team fantasy, aptly clad in just his shiny swimwear, and the intricate rope network encircling him. I had thought it wasn't possible to get even more elated, but yet I was.

"So guys, I've got one last favour to ask from you," Steph whined as Cédric and Hervé were about to exit the room.

"Sure, what is it?" Hervé replied.

"Could I have your socks for a little game with our friends?"

"You bet!" Both brothers laughed.

They didn't question the purpose that their socks would fulfil; it wasn't a surprise to me at this point. Either they knew, or they really wanted to go to bed; or maybe both. From Philippe's tales, and the way they handled Nicolas, I had deduced they liked these games as much as their brother did.

But boy! Had they sweated inside their sneakers! They grinned as the fume spread across the room. They had obviously not taken them off since morning. They handed Steph the foul-smelling footwear, patted me on the cheek and Phil on the head.

"Nighty night, friends!"

As Cédric stepped near Nicolas, he loudly smacked his butt again.

"I'm gonna keep you warm, my friend," he joked.

Then, it was only us three prisoners and Steph; he brought Nicolas right in front of us.

"Three prisoners, this is quite new... it's like," he paused, looking thoughtful, "a triangle! I think I know what to do."

Triangle? What on earth did he mean? I soon found out, as he grabbed the polyamide quilt covering Philippe's bed, and spread it out on the floor. The fluffy material brushed Nicolas' legs as it went down. The newcomer was puzzled, as far as we could tell from his features hidden behind the various layers that made up his gag.

Once the quilt was thoroughly laid out, Steph grabbed Nicolas' shoulders and ordered him to lie down on his belly. He helped him so he wouldn't drop on his knees, and made sure his face didn't hit the floor as he reached the intended position. It was quite a pleasant sight for me, sitting on the bed's edge, to hover above the curvy figure of a cute boy well bound; the perk little buttocks wrapped in gleaming navy blue nylon were particularly eye-catching.

I didn't have much time to marvel at the sight, since Steph turned to me next. He had me stand up, and hop to the quilt. I thought he'd have me lie next to Nicolas, but I turned out to be wrong. He had me stand at the other opposite end of the satiny quilt.

I understood what he was aiming at once I got lowered over the floor as Nicolas had been. Once I was on my knees, it all became clear: my head was going to end over Nicolas' ass. Philippe was next, and his face soon touched my butt. So the triangle was formed of our torsos!

Steph kneeled and rearranged Phil a bit so Nicolas could also have two round and firm pillows to rest his head upon. He grabbed Philippe's feet and linked his bound ankles to the rope going between our friend's shoulder blades. He went on somehow hogtying us, and once our heads were stuck underneath each other's calves, and pressed against each other's buttocks, he stood up.

"I'll sleep on Phil's bed. You guys will have to stand each other for the time being. I'm not sure you're too comfortable to sleep, but I wouldn't bet on all of you disliking it, either… Enjoy!"

He climbed into the bed and soon switched the light off, leaving us to our bizarre predicament. I couldn't really go to sleep in this position, which was uncomfortable, but I also had my mind reeling with the feel of Nicolas' soft buttocks on which my face rested and the soft satiny touch of Philippe's gagged face caressing my own bottom. I could feel he didn't intend to go to sleep, as he softly stroked me by shaking his head, and running his tape-covered lips over my shorts' smooth material.

I started doing the same, to enjoy fully the sensation that was provided by the nearness of the long-coveted bum made all the more desirable by the thin layer of nylon that tightly wrapped it.

It seemed Nicolas was getting into the groove too; I could feel him writhing underneath my face. Being in the dark let my fancy fly away, and I was soon adding to the collective contortions by humping the slippery fabric of the quilt.

I felt, rather than heard, Philippe's groan that informed me of yet another orgasm for my friend. He kept on petting me with his face as his moans decreased in intensity, but my own hips motions got stronger, as did Nicolas'.

We must have come at no more than a two-second interval. I rubbed my face over the supple mounds even stronger as I felt a shiver run from my toes up to the nape of my neck. As I relaxed, I felt the strain forced upon me by the ropes keeping me in in my hogtie. I was also becoming aware of Nicolas' calves preventing my head from moving.

As the afterglow began to subside, I wondered how long I could stand the strenuous position I was in. I was contemplating the possibility of a cramp and its unpleasant effects when the bedside lamp was switched on.

Chapter 10: Crime and Punishment

"Binding and gagging you guys isn't enough to keep you quiet," Steph snarled as he jumped down from the bed.

It appeared the muffled groans we uttered were making sense to him.

"Oh! This is a bit too much for you sissies? All right, I'll make you comfier, then," he said as he untied the ropes keeping us in our respective hogties. I was last to undergo his ministrations and I twisted a bit to relax. What he saw apparently caught his eye; he grabbed me and pulled me away from the tangle of bodies before he got me onto my back.

"Let's see if the others fare any better," he said with a mysterious tone.

I knew he certainly was referring to the darker shade of navy blue my shorts had certainly acquired around where my cock was. And I knew he wouldn't be disappointed by Philippe and Nicolas.

"How could I be dumb enough not to know that you'd behave like swine?"

Our angry, though stifled protests fell on dead ears. We were genuinely shocked at such hypocrisy, knowing Steph knew perfectly well what to expect in the first place; obviously, considering the little slack we had to move, and being shorted as we were, we had performed quite a feat managing to spray our sportswear with such enthusiasm. But not expecting this from us? No way he could!

"I'm quite sorry, but I have no choice but to punish you. I'll get you in a place that's more convenient to have my fun with you."

His tortuous thinking no longer puzzled me. After all, it seemed part of the type of activities I had become acquainted with the afternoon before. I actually admired Steph's stamina, since it had been quite exhausting to take care of one guy; handling three was even more of a challenge. I made a mental note of not going easy on Steph when his turn would come. He deserved some effort.

I was the first he relied on to display his captor skills. He stood me up, loosened up the ropes restraining my legs. He turned towards Philippe.

"I'd like to see if Blondie looks as good as you did when supporting the beam in the kitchen. Not to worry, boys, I won't be long."

He briefly considered the two writhing and mumbling boys lying at his feet.

"Let me think… Considering your dirty deeds, I should make sure that you behave while I am gone."

Philippe and Nicolas were put back on their belly, Steph quickly hogtied them anew, and linked their wrists and ankles with two pieces of rope. I studied how he tied the knot well out of reach of my two friends' hands. He knew what he was doing, and there was no doubt they would stay put for a while.

Steph came to me, and putting his hand between my shoulder blades, he led me downstairs. I was in no state to resist, and I didn't feel like trying anyway. Steph was blabbering about how nasty I was, and how he could punish me properly; meanwhile, he had to keep me safe, and he really wanted to try his hand at tying me the way I had trussed up Phil in the kitchen in the early evening.

It took a while, with Steph fetching more material for his endeavour twice as he proceeded. I was jealous of his knot tying skills. He did it much more naturally than I did; I had to be very careful how I handled rope; Steph had some natural talent for this activity, and he managed to make small talk all the while.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, he was done. I was roped to the beam, wearing only my stained satin shorts. Steph had me try to call for help to check if the gag was still performing its duty well. It did; it didn't prevent my captor to speculate on more thorough ones, and pondering over what piece of his undergarments he would like to stuff into my mouth. He was satisfied with me chewing on the copiously creamed nylon underwear I was sucking on.

"You're properly fixed. Sorry for not changing your shorts, but I don't know where there are any clean ones for you. It'll dry up fast enough, if you don't squirt out more juice as I get your little friends here and get them all bundled up. I bet you love seeing me playing with them. Or maybe you get off just seeing them so helpless, all bound and gagged. I sure do, so I've got an eye for spotting little pervs like you."

I was filling my shorts again, with Steph detailing how he intended to take care of Philippe and Nicolas. I couldn't quite picture how he would manage to get them bound and gagged on just one kitchen chair; I relished the idea of having them in an intimate posture.

"Fine. Let me go get our friends so you don't get bored. You enjoy their company, and I do too."

"Mmmphh! Mmmbll!" I replied ambiguously.

I was left on my own for the first time since I'd come to my friends' house. I was overwhelmed by what was going on, and the latest description of what was to happen to my friends aroused me. I was a bit worried that I'd be left out, but I didn't feel jealous at this moment. My mind was racing, trying to process the stimuli overload and doing a poor job at it.

It felt like a very short time when I heard Steph bringing the prisoners down from upstairs. There had been work to harness them with ropes, at least their torsos and arms, and to hobble their legs at knees and ankles. They still wore the same single item of clothing and its distinctive darker patch at the crotch; they looked as attractive as I'd have imagined.

He had added silk scarves to their already well-gagged mouths. A dark navy blue one for Philippe, a black one for Nicolas. Steph had them in tow, and the shortness of the hobbling explained their cautious steps.

"Here we are, let me have our newcomers sit down. I'm polite, you know, Grégory."

There was a smirk with this. Steph got engrossed into tying them to a chair. First Philippe was tied facing me much as I had found him when I'd first seen how his brothers had trussed him up. Then Nicolas was tied standing behind him with his legs open, his waist, thighs and ankles tied to the piece of furniture with coils of rope. I couldn't see it, but I pictured how he was pressing his hard cock against Philippe's back. This had to be a very frustrating sensation.

I was then very surprised. Stephen picked up the knot binding the scarf over Philippe's mouth.

"It's only fair that you hear of why you're here straight from the horse's mouth. Let me see, my little stallion, how badly you are prevented from whinnying…"

Philippe's gag was removed.

"Calling me a stud, now?" Philippe smiled as he spat out the drooling nylon he had in his mouth in Steph's hand. Steph turned to me, and Philippe went on, looking straight into my eyes.

"You look really great, Grégory. As you had me bound like this at dinner, I thought it was how I'd love to see you bound and gagged. It was nice in the bedroom too, you know. I'm really glad you passed the test; you didn't notice, but my brothers spotted you liked seeing me in shorts, and I spotted several times when watching TV how you reacted to any scene involving tied up boys, or people in general for that matter. So I planned with Steph to have a little initiation ceremony for you. It wasn't supposed to last this long, but I'm glad it went longer than just a couple hours as we had planned. Thank you for improvising, Steph. See, Grégory, we were supposed to go to Steph's this evening, once the parents would be back, and we had planned a prank to get you both bound and gagged."

"When your parents called your brothers, I did see how we could change our plans and still have fun with our two swimmers. Your brothers helped a lot."

"From what I feel, since he can't speak, Nicolas is equally happy of what you did to him."

Nicolas blushed lightly.

"Nicolas has played with us a few times. The more we play, the nastier he gets when he's the captor, don't get fooled by his innocent blue eyes. Will you join us too, Grégory?"

I nodded eagerly, grunting loudly in approval.

"You understand I'll have to retaliate for keeping me prisoner a whole afternoon, evening, and night too if my friend Steph had not eventually released me?"

"Mmmph," I submitted.

"OK, then, there are a few things to know…"

And Philippe explained truthfully what Steph and he did together. It lasted for close to an hour, because the sun was rising when he stopped. It was very early, but Steph needed help to get breakfast ready. We were all freed; soon we were sitting at the kitchen table, with hot coffee or cocoa, bread, butter and jam.

Our main topic of conversation was how to go on with the game once Philippe's parents would be back. We discussed several locations, several setups or games. I couldn't think of having spent a more glorious morning in my life. And that very afternoon, we were able to start up some more fun games, and we would play them for many more years after that.

The End

(But Philippe and Grégory will be back.)