Date: Tue, 7 Feb 2006 14:23:36 EST
From: EddyRiha@aol.com
Subject: Games with Stefan 3

The usual disclaimers apply.  This is a work of fiction, and those
folks who are prevented from reading such fictional works either
by age, by moral preference, or by law should not read any
further.

All of the characters presented here are fictional
representations, including the narrator.  Some of the events and
characters are inspired by actual events and people I encountered
in my younger days, but the presentation here of events and
characters in no way is meant to portray actual, historical
persons and events.  It's just a story.

All stunts were performed by professionals.  Do not attempt these
at home.

No televangelists were harmed in the writing or reading of this
story.

My thanks to those readers who said kind words about the first two
chapters and gave me ideas and inspiration for the continuation.

If anyone is offended by the premise of the story, or by explicit
sexual acts, please do not read any further.


Games With Stefan

by eddyriha

Chapter #3 At Stefan's House (Part 2)

When Stefan's older and younger sisters entered the house, they found the
two of us sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in swimtrunks with me
wearing Stefan's new dark green pair, which fit me about as skintight as
the old blue ones he was wearing.  We were drinking Cokes and laughing.
Stefan had lent me a pair of sweatbands for my wrists, which were a bright
red due to my straining against the bonds which had, until a few moments
before, restricted my arm movements most of the afternoon.

"Eddy wants to go swimming, too," Stefan told Tina, his older sister.

"If that's OK with you," I added politely.  Politeness was one of my strong
suits, especially when it came to parents and parental substitutes, like an
older sister in her late twenties.  When you are fifteen and in a deeply
physical relationship with, say, the woman's thirteen-year-old brother, you
may as well kiss as much proverbial ass as possible.  Politeness is the way
to a parent's heart, and it makes you even more welcome than you could ever
imagine.

In any case, in a few moments Stefan and I were splashing each other and
chasing each other like little kids all around the circular above-ground
pool.  Tina was sunning herself on a chaise lounge on the wooden deck
attached on the sunniest side of the pool.  Liz was floating on an
inflatable mattress, her eyes closed, sunning herself, just like her big
sister.  That left Stefan and I to run around and be boys.  Of course,
every so often, one or the other of us would cop a feel.  There's nothing
so fine as fondling your lover as he wears tight swimtrunks, all the while
being close by other people who have no idea what the hell is really going
on. . . .

After an hour or so of that, the two sisters decided to go inside.  Stefan
and I stayed outside in the pool, splashing water and horsing around for
awhile longer.  And, of course, copping more than a feel, knowing that from
the windows at the back of the house anything we did below the top of the
pool, anything below the surface of the water, could not be seen.  At one
point, as we one-handed splashed each other, the other hand was buried deep
inside the other's swimtrunks.

Finally, after another half hour, Tina poked her head out the back door.
"Hey, guys," she said.  "You need to get out of the pool.  I've got to take
Liz to her gymnastics practice."

"Awww," Stefan said.  Of course, he wasn't really pissed about having to
get out of the pool, as that meant that we'd have another two hours alone
before his parents came home from work.  But he had to pretend to be
disappointed.  Otherwise, Tina might think something was up.  After all,
Stefan, being the unexpected child of his parents' middle age, had been
spoiled nearly to death, and he was used to getting his own way most of the
time.  Maybe that was why he enjoyed submitted to me: unlike his parents, I
wasn't about to give in to his whining and bellyaching, and so I provided
limits and boundaries that he really wanted and needed.  Of course, all
that is insight I gained in retrospect.  At the time, I thought with my
dick, so all I was concerned about was having another shot at fucking my
buddy.

Stefan climbed out of the pool.  "Can't we have just a few more minutes,
please?" he begged his sister.

She replied, "If I have to come out there, young man!"

He stuck out his tongue at her, and she shook her head.  "Look," she said,
"I give you until the time we're going out to the car, and then you'd
better be out of the pool.  Or else you're coming with us."

"You'd better do as she says," I muttered to Stefan.  It would be no fun if
my restless hardon had to go home unfulfilled.

Instead, he jumped back into the pool with a huge splash, as if to
accentuate his stubbornness.  When he bobbed up above the water, he brushed
his dark hair out of his eyes and winked.  "I have to make it look good,"
he said in a quiet voice.

There was something else that bobbed up out of the water at the same time:
his swimtrunks.  Somehow those tighter-than-tight blue briefs had slipped
off him when he hit the water.  Now I knew what I would do.

I grabbed the trunks and headed for the ladder.  Climbing onto the deck
with the trunks in hand, I said, "I think the roles are reversed now,
slave."

"Gimme back my swimsuit," he hissed, realizing suddenly the precariousness
of the situation.  While everything below water level could be hidden from
the upstairs windows of the house, anything on the deck was perfectly
visible to those windows and to the upstairs windows of the houses on each
side and over the fence (the houses that faced the next street).

"You don't have anything to bargain with," I teased him.  "Either you get
out of the pool now, or you go with your sisters to gymnastics.  And if you
do get out of the pool, everyone will see your hardon."  I knew without
looking into the water that he indeed was aroused.  It never took much at
all for him to spring to full attention.

Stefan didn't hesitate.  He swam to the other side of the pool, gave
himself a big push up, and he slipped over the edge of the pool and onto
the grass.  For a brief moment, I had a full glimpse of his wet, round ass,
and that fired up my imagination not to mention my hardon even more.  Damn,
but this is fun! I thought to myself.  Playing games with such a beautiful
sexy boy.  His ass was mine, and he knew it.  More to the point, he wanted
it to be that way.  Otherwise, how could those swimtrunks that were so
tight on his skin have come off in the water?

Whether he had planned it that way, I didn't much care.  As much as he
liked to get his way, he knew that in our games it was so much fun when I
got mine.

He padded barefoot around to the side of the garage, dripping water the
whole way.  He was shielded from outside view by the wooden fence and some
spruces which stood along the property boundary beyond the fence toward the
street.  He popped his head over the gate and said to Tina, who was getting
into her car, "I'm out of the pool."

"Good.  You stay that way," she said with mock sternness.  "Eddy," she said
to me as I appeared beside Stefan, "you make sure he behaves himself, OK?"

"I will," I told her.  Boy, would I ever!

As soon as his sisters left, I took Stefan by the hand and led him to the
backyard.  There, he paused a moment.  "Wait," he said, "let me put on my
trunks, at least till we get back into the house."

"No," I replied.  "You aren't getting to wear anything now, slave."

"Please, my King," he begged.  "Someone might see me."

"And that's a problem because?"

Stefan was turning red with embarrassment.  "Please, don't make me walk
across the backyard naked."

I could see the fear was getting to him.  I suppose I could have made him
do it, but I loved the guy, and as much as I desired him to submit to me,
there was the occasional boundary I wasn't going to cross.  Plus, he did
have a point.  What if someone saw him?  What if they told our parents?
Games like ours were better off kept off the parental radar.

"OK," I said.  I pulled his body to mine and kissed him long and deeply on
the lips.  "I have another idea, anyway."

I led him back toward the driveway, but stopped at the side door to the
garage.  It was unlocked, as I'd hoped, and I led him inside.  "Down," I
said as soon as we were inside.  He dropped to his knees on the concrete.
"Stay," I commanded.  "And don't touch yourself."

I went over to his father's workbench which was amply supplied with tools
and junk like that, though with not as complete and diverse a collection as
my father owned.  Still, I found a few things that would serve the purpose.

Standing over him, I took off my wet wristbands and put them on his wrists.
Then I bound his hands together with an old shock cord, one whose
elasticity was ruined, so it wasn't much more than a thick, solid rope.  I
put some duct tape over his mouth, and I bound a clean rag around his head,
covering his eyes.  He could not see and could not speak, so he was less
likely to go running off and make me chase him all over the house.  I could
tell from his posture that he was willing to submit to whatever I had in
mind, regardless of what it was.  At least for now.

I took him by the upper arm and led him to the workbench.  I bent him over
the bench, then secured his ankles to two of the supports along the side.
This bench, probably more properly a table, ran the whole length of the
back wall of the garage, just like at my house, except that this one saw
much less use, and thus was much cleaner.

Without a word, I left him there and entered the house.  I first retrieved
my clothes from the laundry room and brought them upstairs to Stefan's
bedroom, where I knew we'd end up sooner or later.  >From the bedroom, I
selected the strongest of the bathrobe ties and belts that he had used to
tie me earlier.  As effective as shock cords could be, I didn't want to
cause him any serious pain.  In any case, I saw the cigar tube lying there,
so I picked that up and the baby oil.  (For a brief moment, I felt like an
elf warrior in a Dungeons & Dragons game, snatching up any useful tools
that I encountered.  Maybe there was more than just a passing similarity
there.)

Back in the garage, I found Stefan squirming a little, his tight boyish ass
shifting from side to side as he tried to free himself.  He didn't hear me
enter, so he was startled when I gave his ass a sharp SLAP! with one of the
belts.

"That's for being a bad fucker earlier," I said.  "And this one" SLAP! "is
for making me wait so damn long before I came."

Stefan yelped into the duct tape.  I leaned close and kissed him on the
cheek.  "It's OK, buddy," I said.  "I'm not going to punish you too much."

He pleaded something into the tape, but I couldn't tell what he said.  So I
pulled off the tape.  "Please, do whatever you want," he said once his
mouth was freed.  "My body is completely yours."

I wasn't exactly surprised by that.  Most of the time when we played our
games, he asked me to torture or torment him more than I wanted to.  Of
course, I did sometimes give in.  As "King," that was my role.

I covered his mouth with a new piece of tape and then went to work.  I
lubed up the cigar tube with the baby oil and then bent over his ass.  My
oily finger slipped easily into his hole, which was by now well-used to my
finger, my cock, whatever I wanted to insert inside it.  When I prodded his
prostate, he sighed and moaned, pushing his ass into my finger.  I pulled
it out, then inserted two fingers, both oiled, then a moment later pulled
them out in favor of inserting three.  He was moaning and sighing and
basically getting close to another dry orgasm.  Then I pulled my fingers
out, slapped him once on each ass cheek, and inserted the cigar tube in one
shot.  Compared to my cock, the tube was narrower, but it was also longer,
so some of it stuck out of his hole.  I wasn't about to force it in any
farther than it would fit naturally.  So I said, "Keep it right where it
is, until I tell you otherwise.  You got that, slave?"

Stefan nodded.  "OK, then," I said.  "Now we can get started."

I took one of the bathrobe ties and tied it loosely around his neck, only
using it to guide him.  Then I released his ankles.  "Come," I said,
leading him toward the door to the house, carrying as I did the tools I'd
picked up at the workbench.  He walked carefully, his bare feet tentative
on the concrete.  Even though this was his own house, he was probably
walking blind in it for the first time, so he was less sure of himself than
he would normally be.  On the other hand, I had often gone about my own
house in the dark, so I knew the lay of the land, so to speak, regardless
of whether I could see anything.

Once we reached the downstairs hallway, I made him kneel down.  "You will
crawl on your knees the rest of the way," I told him.  The floor was cold
linoleum tiles over concrete, so it was smooth under knees, though not
particularly comfortable.

Then I led him through the smoky air of his father's office to the
downstairs bathroom.  From my visits to his house, I knew Stefan's father
kept a variety of personal toiletries there for times when he needed to go
to a meeting and thus needed to make himself presentable before heading out
the door.  In the bathroom, I untied Stefan's bound wrists, but I did not
release them.  Instead, I stretched them toward the top of the door,
spreading them so that one wrist was bound as close to each upper corner as
possible.  It took a couple of belts and bathrobe ties, one of which
connected the others to the doorknob on the other side.  I pulled Stefan up
so that he stood on his tiptoes.  His ass was toward the door, but because
the cigar tube stood out of his ass, he wasn't able to rest directly
against the door; he had to turn and rest most of his weight against his
left ass cheek.  His dick, which faced me, became aroused at the sensation
of being tied to the door.  I was half-tempted to suck it into my mouth,
but that wasn't the object of this exercise.

In the medicine cabinet, I found what I wanted.  I took the shaving cream
and squirted a little of it on each of Stefan's armpits.  He shivered at
the sudden contact of the cool foam with his tender underarms.  Then he
realized what I was about to do, and he started to protest as best he could
through the tape over his mouth.

"You said I could do whatever I wanted, that your body was entirely mine,"
I reminded him.  "I'm just taking care of this body you have given me."  I
guess I should probably have become a lawyer.  . . .

Anyway, I took the razor and, making sure first that it was sharp enough, I
proceeded to remove the minimal hair that clung to the boy's armpits.  I
was gentle, careful not to cut him.  In a moment, his pits were bare, and I
wiped them off with a damp washcloth.

Then I turned my attention to his groin.  The moment I began to put the
shaving cream on his pubic hair, he kicked at me.  I had to set down the
can, grab his ankles, lift his squirming legs, and apply several hard slaps
on his ass.  Then I took a particularly long bathrobe tie and used it to
bind his feet, the bulk of the tie running along behind the door.  If he
tried to kick at me with one foot, the other would be pulled around toward
the other side of the door a painful proposition indeed.  As you can
imagine, his feet gave me no further problems.

Once he was fully secured, I finished applying the foam.  Stefan was
protesting as loudly through the tape as he could, but when I slapped his
dick three times in succession, he calmed down.  I was even more careful as
I shaved his pubic hair, and so I know I didn't end up removing all of it
just most of it that grew above and around his dick and balls.  Being only
thirteen, Stefan didn't have a whole lot of hair to shave, but once a guy
gets his pubes, he's prouder of them than probably anything else.  At least
until he has his first wet orgasm, something Stefan hadn't yet experienced.

After I'd wiped off his now shaved groin with the washcloth and put the
shaving cream and the razor away, I untied Stefan from the door, made him
kneel, and bound his hands behind him again.  He had tried to touch his
newly shaven groin as soon as I'd untied him, but I snatched his hands away
in time.  Then I rolled him onto his side and tied his feet together.  I
picked him up, carrying him in my arms.  Stefan was slimmer than I was, and
so he weighed enough less than me that I could carry him for short
distances without discomfort.

As soon as he was in my arms, he tried to raise up his groin toward where
he guessed was my mouth.  But I wouldn't go for that.  "Stop it," I said.
"You are not getting sucked right now.  You have been a bad slave.  And
your punishment is not over yet."

I climbed the stairs with my beautiful submissive burden, being careful not
to bang his head or feet against the railing or the wall.  Once at the top,
I carried him into the kitchen, where I laid him down on the counter, by
the sink.  His mother was a clean freak, more or less, so the counter was
basically free of clutter.  Stefan started to sit up, but I pushed him back
down.  I was careful to allow him to rest slightly on one hip, so as not to
put too much weight on the cigar tube, which still was buried in his hole.

"Lie down, slave," I commanded.  I pretended to be angry, and the sharp
tone in my voice convinced him.  "Relax.  And remember what you told me
that your body was mine."

I took up his feet and held them over the sink.  I turned on the faucet and
allowed the cool water to run over his toes, his feet.  There are many
parts of Stefan's body that are wonderful, but I especially liked his feet.
When we first met, he never cut his toenails and he didn't always clean his
feet, but once I pointed out to him how disgusting his feet looked, he
started trimming the toenails on a regular basis.  And quite often before
coming over to my house, he'd give his feet a quick once-over with a
washcloth, so that sometimes I could still smell the soap he'd used.  The
result was that his feet were shapely and attractive, delicate, while still
being a proper boy's feet.

He shivered a little at the shock of the cold water on his feet, but he
didn't make any noise in protest.  I soaped them up, working the soap in
between the toes, then rinsed them.  Shutting off the water, I proceeded to
dry the toes, the soles, the tops of his feet.  Then I began sucking on
each toe, nibbling and tonguing each one, all the while gently massaging
his insteps with my thumb and fingers.  He began to purr and moan with
pleasure, though his responses were muted somewhat by the tape over his
mouth.

When I had finished sucking on the toes and massaging the instep of each
foot, I picked up the tools I'd brought from the garage.  Before I had
started this sequence of events, I had decided that each moment of pleasure
would be balanced by a moment of pain.  And now came the pain.  (Though not
all that much pain.  How could I really hurt the boy I loved?)  I took a
pair of long- nosed pliers and gently tweaked each nipple.  He gasped at
first, but then he began making moans of pleasure and the pliers nipped at
first one, then the other nipple.  Then I wrapped his quite erect dick in a
dishcloth, binding it firmly, before I applied gentle pressure from a
regular pair of pliers here and there, just a couple of times, to see if he
would accept this new game.  He didn't make any sound for a moment, and I
began to wonder if maybe I had gone too far.  I took off the tape over his
mouth, and I asked him, "Stefan, is it OK?"

"Sure, my King," he said.  "It was just strange at first.  But then, I knew
you were doing it, and I knew it would be fine."

"OK.  Just let me know if anything starts to hurt you.  I don't want that
to happen."  I leaned over his still blindfolded face and kiss him on the
lips.  He kissed back, a kiss that was even more filled with longing and
desire than usual.  Then I placed another dishcloth in his mouth for a gag
and resumed the periodic pressure on his dick and nipples.  He went back to
moaning and purring, and when I paused a moment to switch tools, he
squealed to express his impatience at the pause in the action.

After a few more minutes of this, I set down the pliers and unwrapped his
dick.  I opened the fridge and found what I was looking for a squeeze
bottle of honey.  I popped the plug at the top and squirted a little honey
on Stefan's chest, at the sternum.  I bent over him and began licked the
honey, pushing it along his skin with my tongue.  I licked it over his
right nipple, then (with some more honey) over his left nipple.  Some more
honey along the collarbone and up to the throat.  I licked and kissed his
throat and nuzzled his ears.  Then I moved back down his chest, applying
some honey right below the ribcage and licking all along the bottom of his
ribs.  I squirted a good dollop of honey into his navel, which (like mine)
is an inny, and I spent several minutes tonguing the honey out, with the
most delirious moans from Stefan yet.  He began bucking so hard, trying to
force me to service his dick, that he nearly rocked himself off the
countertop.  I had to catch him with both hands and hold him in place.

Of course, he knew where I was heading.  But I was tired of honey by this
point, and so I scoured the kitchen for a suitable substitute.  I knew that
in my house I'd have been able to find at least a dozen alternatives, but
half the things on these shelves were unfamiliar to someone like me who was
not of Greek heritage.  Finally, I found a jar of peanut butter not exactly
my first choice, but still usable.

I opened the jar and scooped out a little of the thick, creamy substance
with my fingers.  OK, I know I was raised never to stick anything other
than a clean knife into a jar of peanut butter, but good hygiene wasn't
exactly relevant at the moment.  I smeared the peanut butter on his balls,
coating them, before I began licking then, nibbling at them, sucking one at
a time into my mouth and tonguing off the peanut butter.  If Stefan had
been bucking up a storm before, he was moaning loudly and holding his ass
up off the counter, trying to direct his cock into my mouth.

My arms were straining as they tried to hold him in place.  Finally, I got
an idea.  I turned Stefan onto his side, facing away from me, and then I
pulled his bound ankles behind him so they were close to his bound wrists.
Using an extension electrical cord, I secured his bound wrists and bound
ankles together, in effect hogtying him.  Then I turned him over to face
me.  He was now unable to move his limbs, and I could continue with the
game at hand.  He struggled for another minute or two, but then decided not
to waste his energy, and settled down to see what I would do next.

Of course, I did what he had been expecting: I smeared peanut butter on his
cock.  But I didn't immediately begin sucking and licking it off.  Instead,
I put the peanut butter and honey back where I'd found them.  And I picked
the immobilized Stefan up and carried him into his bedroom, where I laid
him on the lower bunk, facing me.  I kneeled beside the bed and began
running my tongue over his cock, running over the length of the shaft,
swirling around the head, licking the slit, then back down to the base,
licking and tonguing the balls, the sensitive underside of the cock, the
whole bit.  Almost as soon as I began, Stefan started to have a dry orgasm,
which kept going as long as I was sucking and licking him.

When all the peanut butter was gone, it was now my time to have pleasure.
I wiped off Stefan's cock with the dishcloth I'd used for a gag, before I
returned it to his mouth.  He knew what was coming next at least, he knew
that it was my turn to come, and it was just a question of how I would do
it.  Well, the question was in his mind; I already knew what I was going to
do.

I undid the shock cord and the bindings on his wrists and ankles.  He began
automatically rubbing them, and I let him do that for a minute or two.  He
didn't reach up to remove his blindfold; he understood instinctively that
that would not be allowed.  When I figured he'd relaxed long enough, I
lifted him up so that his feet rested on the edge of the bottom bunk.  I
took his right arm and held it up against the side of the top bunk.  I
bound the arm in a couple of places to the side frame, then bound the left
arm also to the frame, so that Stefan faced the bed and his ass was toward
me.  His chin just cleared the side of the upper bunk, so his forehead
actually leaned against the mattress.  His feet rested on the side frame of
the bottom bunk, and I slid them apart as far as they would go before
binding each foot to the frame.

Now my boy was bound and helpless to the bed, though not in a position he
was used to.  For a moment, I thought about taking my things and leaving
him there for his folks to find but then my dick twitched angrily, as if to
say, "What the fuck are you thinking?!?!?!"  In that position, though,
Stefan's ass was enough above my dick that I looked around for something to
stand on.  I found what I was looking for in the upstairs bathroom a
stepstool that his mother used to reach things on the top shelves of the
linen closet.  Standing on the second of the three steps allowed me perfect
aim at the boy's exposed ass.  An ass perfectly symmetrical, perfectly
round.  An ass which still had a lubed cigar tube in it.

"What an obedient slave," I whispered in his ear as I slowly slid the tube
out.  "You kept this up your ass the whole time without complaining."  I
nibbled at his ear, then kissed his cheek.  Then I kissed and licked my way
around his neck and partway down his spine.  Then I removed the swimtrunks
I'd borrowed, freeing my cock from its rather tight prison.  I didn't stop
to measure it, but I could swear it was an inch more engorged than ever
before.

I ran a finger inside Stefan's hole and found it still quite lubed.  So I
didn't hesitate any longer.  I wrapped my arms around the boy and then
thrust deep into him.  He gasped, as he almost always did when I penetrated
his ass.  As soon as I had taken a deep breath, I began fucking him,
thrusting in and pulling back, forcing myself deeper and deeper, all the
while clutching him tightly to my chest.  The whole bed shook and creaked
as I fucked Stefan, and several times it slammed against the bedroom wall
as I rammed hard into him.  It only took a dozen thrusts and I felt the cum
rising.  I kept ramming into him until I suddenly exploded and shot load
after load of cum into his ass.

A moment later, when my softening dick slid out of Stefan's ass, I began
untying him.  I removed the gag and blindfold.  He blinked a few times, as
he looked at me with a strange expression.  Then he suddenly flashed that
bright, sunny smile that I'd fallen in love with a few years before.  He
threw his arms around me and whispered into my ear, "That was so fucking
awesome!  I love you, I love you!"

I picked him up and laid him onto the bed, where we lay for awhile,
embracing each other, lying naked and running our fingers up and down each
other's backs and shoulders.  I wanted so much to stay that way forever,
but that wasn't possible at least not then.  Before we were ready to part,
we heard a car door slam.  I got up and peered out the window.  Sure
enough, Stefan's parents were home.  I dressed quickly, as did Stefan, and
so, when they entered, they found the two of us sitting in the upstairs
living room, drinking Cokes and watching MTV and exchanging knowing looks
that they would never understand.