[This story was first pubished in Issue 10, May/June 1989]
Back in '71, I did like a lot of guys did then: hitch around America before going off to college. I was 6'1", a stringbean with a high slung ass, curly dark red hair, all legs.
For two months I had a really great time, felt great about being gay. Late afternoon on a terribly hot day in West Texas (outside Odessa) I got a lift from two handsome cowboys in their pickup truck. They had me slide in between them. They offered me a beer, they were pretty loaded. I said yes and the driver said "he wasn't ready yet". I didn't understand then what he meant.
"Hey, Red, you sure got long legs and a pretty ass." The guy to the right of me put his arm around my shoulder.
"And pretty red titties too," the driver added "Can see them right through your t-shirt...stick out like a fucking woman.
"Got milk in them titties, boy?"
I was in a real bind. These guys were in their late 20's and their baskets looked terrific. I was horny, but they didn't seem like the guys I'd had sex with before.
"I don't know."
The passenger raised my t-shirt. I was embarrassed by my protruding cone-shaped nipples. He squeezed them repeatedly. "No milk there." He reached between my legs, fondling my basket, gripping my hard-on. "I found an udder full of milk!" He stroked the lump in my levis. "You like that?"
"Yes," I admitted. Hell, I was turned on.
The driver wheeled the truck around, backtracked and turned off on a dirt road. Ten minutes later we were in a desolate area and stopped at a rusted mobile home.
Inside they turned on a cooler and told me to sit at the kitchen table for some beer. The second I sat, both grabbed me, swiftly tying my wrists behind me with leather reins to the back of the chair.
"I told you he was queer the minute we saw him." He patted my face. The other got a plastic cooking funnel and shoved it in my mouth. It held my mouth open and my tongue down. The driver dropped his levis (no underwear) and pissed into the funnel. I gagged on the salty liquid, but managed to take it all. The other blew his nose in his red bandana and stuffed it in my mouth when the funnel came out. It was crusty from dry snot but not for long. A piece of rein was bound between my teeth to held the bandana in firmly.
"Wow, pay day and getting us a queer in one day!" They laughed. "Let's see what he's got between his legs." They pulled my levis off and chided me for my red briefs before cutting them off. "Look at that bush of red hair and them golf balls, real waste, like tits on a boar pig." They finished their binding me. Leather rein on ankles, knees, thighs, chest and neck, all to the chair.
They took showers, shaved and dressed in their finest, smelling like after shave bottles. "Out to paint Odessa red, don't wait up. Would get you something to eat but your mouth is full." They both ruffled my hair as they left.
It was after 1 a.m. when they returned. I was blindfolded with a bandana, untied and pulled by my hard on into their bathroom where I was ordered to piss, then pulled onto their bed where I was spread eagled with the same sweaty reins, ass up. I was lubed and fucked twice.
Over the weekend they were industrious. Chains were bolted throughout the small home and chains attached to my waist and ankles. I was their "wife". I was to keep house for them. All my hair was shaven from head to toes. As additional humiliation, they bought some perfume and lipstick and required that I look and smell good when they came home for dinner. Over three months passed. During the day I was expected to wear nylons and their fancy homemade gags.
As fall came, they slowly began to change. When they came home from work, they'd greet me with the removal of my gag of the day and a distinctly "gay" kiss. I got used to a tongue coated with chewing tobacco licking the inside of my mouth. I began advising them on how to take care of their money and was there when they began making love to each other.
At Thanksgiving they gave me an envelope with money in it and unlocked me. They said I should try to be home for Christmas so my folks wouldn't worry. I stayed with them a couple more weeks and played lots of bondage games with them that I had thought of as a captive.
We're only on a Christmas card correspondence now, but they sure gave me a rich lesson.
[Unfortunately, there was no return address on the envelope this came in, so I couldn't ask the writer about the bondage games they played. BW]
Comments