Eight and a half hours later, a frisky, half-clad Amir Khalili and I were on my double-bed kissing, our hands and mouths everywhere at once. Today he was even more energetic than usual, and our blend of wrestling match and kissing session generated much sweat. We had begun fully clothed and were in the delightful process of undressing each other one article at a time as we struggled, pinned, yielded, nibbled. I'd taken off his shirt and the white undershirt he had on under it; his bare chest was well-coated with sweat, the tasty dark nipples standing up firm and excited and shimmering with saliva.
We could scarcely speak; that's how badly we craved each other. I'd felt my throat and stomach and cock all seize up with longing as soon as I glimpsed the shadows of his beautiful hands and profile in the half-open doorway.
And he'd attacked me as soon as I confirmed that we were alone, pausing only to ask how far my bedroom was. Thrilled by his enthusiasm, I wondered if maybe tonight we'd "try again" as he had promised. Yesterday's paradisal minute and a half inside his hot sultry passage had only whetted my appetite. I fleetingly wondered if he'd like it better if we did it face to face, so he could make sure I wasn't up to no good, but then he had me by the wrist and was leading me up the stairs to my third- floor room.
To be more accurate, it was an attic. There was my room looking out over the street, a little hallway, and then a storage room looking out on the backyard. This arrangement pleased me; I was always protective of my privacy.
Amir had on worn khakis that seemed baggier than usual, probably because of the big pockets on the sides. He was smiling like a fool, but his eyes shone with a kind of half-mocking intelligence, as if he were keeping some juicy secret. He'd probably looked like that all day since I called him, I thought, moving across the front hall to take him in my arms and kiss him. He sucked on my lips, pawed me through my clothes like a mauling animal. He had his backpack too, with what he said was some overnight stuff.
"Nice bed." In the attic, tossing himself down on it. I followed suit, and we came together like a couple of magnets, like we wanted nothing more than to weld ourselves together permanently. As I said, he seemed extra-excited today. Absence makes the heart (and other parts, a hand in his khakis confirmed) grow fonder. My own rod had been stirring off and on all day as fantasies of Amir (Amir fully stripped; Amir begging under the bristle-end of a brush; Amir writhing in sexual transport as the end of my dick pummeled his prostate) recurred to me. Now it stood up, desperately hard, to moisten the waistband of my boxers.
We began swapping spit in earnest; clothes came off; skin was revealed; sweat emerged, gathered on our hairlines and in the tight areas of our clothes, ran warmly over our charged flesh. Amir bit my neck and shoulders, leaving red nibble-marks. I bit his in eager revenge. I punched him in his hard belly, loving the drum-tight flesh against my knuckles. He hit me back, slapped my face, my ass, chewed my nips til they felt ragged. We tore at each other's hair, moaning, cursing, making deep half-human noises, all the while exchanging ardent kisses, stroking each other everywhere we could reach. We were rolling over and over. I kept thinking we'd tumble off the bed if we weren't careful.
Five or ten minutes later.
Amir staring down at me with infuriating triumph in his blood-flushed face.
My whole body feeling bare, defenseless. A kind of sensuous shame. A tingling. Pleasure in spite of itself. As if all my skin were blushing, even though it was only its usual ivory-white. Except my cock, which was pink with blood and still wetly prodding my belly-button.
Don't know why I felt so exposed. I'd been naked in front of Amir often enough.
And now---incredibly, impossibly---I was both tied up and naked in front of Amir. Matter of fact, I'd been tied up by Amir. Amir, who was grinning like a goddamned Cheshire Cat, his wild midnight curls sticking to his damp forehead in that way I found so alluring, his cock ramrod-stiff, seemingly harder than I'd ever seen it. It was flushed a delicate purple-brown found only one place in nature: between the legs of a boned-up Arab boy with skin the color of coffee-caramel ice cream.
"I wish you could see yourself. You look so hot. I could eat you." He said the words as though they tasted as sweet in his mouth as he imagined my flesh would, and there was a look of intense relish--almost rapture--on his face.
I didn't answer. What was I expected to do, thank him for the compliment? I tested the bonds. There was some give, but not much.
"I tied you real tight, didn't I?" he said, with evident pride. He reached for my swollen cock and caressed it slowly, softly. It was traitorously stiff and oozing clear drops of pre-ejaculate onto his slim brown hand. "I really got you, didn't I?"
Oh, he'd gotten me. And he had tied me tight. Now I knew for sure what he'd had stored in the pocket of those baggy pants: one long piece of rope, soft but strong.
"There's just something about a gorgeous Jew-boy in glasses tied to his own bed."
Stroking me, grinning.
We'd been playing rough for a little while when I decided it might be kind of a lark to let him pin me for a minute, just to see what he'd do. Big mistake. In a split second all his weight was pressed down determinedly on my body. He reached out of sight into his pocket and, in one quick fluid movement, the rope was around my right wrist. Pulled taut. When I protested, he silenced me with a long penetrating kiss. Then he tied my left wrist a few inches further along the rope. He doubled it against itself, secured it again in the center, between my bound hands. Last, he wrapped the end of the rope around the middle headboard and tied it there, hauling my arms above my head. Off came my pants, my boxers, even my socks.
I lay there now, stripped and helpless. My mouth was tacky, dry. His finger-pads trailed over my cock-head, tapping lightly, almost casually.
"And you seem to like it too."
He smiled an evil little smile, dark and exquisite. Something to be said--his sadistic side was certainly a beautiful devil, as beautiful as his pain-slut side, which I'd already seen so much of. He was versatile in his splendor, my Amir; I would never figure him out. It occurred to me that I never wanted to.
A hand shot out and pincered my left nipple between thumb and forefinger. He rolled it lazily and then twisted it tight, hard enough to generate a gasp, but not a scream. My lips remained open, and he moved up and inserted his tongue between them, held my face and explored my mouth with soft rapid movements. His stiffy brushed mine, a brief convergence of super-heated flesh. Some of his pre-cum dribbled onto my pubic hair and my belly. I moaned loudly as he broke the kiss and eased away from me, pleading without words for the return of his mouth.
"Yeah, you look real good..." he whispered, as if speaking to himself, running his hands over my torso.
He removed my glasses, folded the earpieces in carefully, and set them on the bedside table. Everything was instantly blurred, exponentially increasing my feeling of helplessness. I had a few seconds to wonder why he'd done that, when he'd said I looked so hot in them.
"I bet you'll look just as good from the back."
So he gripped my shoulders and heaved me over onto my belly. There was no way I could resist. Now my hard dick was crushed into the soft mattress. My hands, of course, were still tethered above my head. And he still had my bare white body to scrutinize (including, now, my bare butt) without my being able to easily watch him. I wasn't surprised to feel him sit on my thighs, the warm weight of his lean body. I was even less surprised to feel his hand on my quivering nude rump. The firm pressure of his palm where my cheeks met made me wonder just how much I was going to get punished today, and how much pleasured. I inhaled deeply. The air seemed electric.
Taking his hand from my ass, he commenced rubbing my back in even kneading motions. Massaging me, really. This had all happened entirely too quickly for me. He knew that; he was trying to soothe me. To lull me. His hands worked lower and lower in deep sensuous motions, stopped just above my bottom. Then he began kneading and massaging that, pulling my cheeks apart, stroking along my sweaty crack with his thumbs. A long shiver traveled up my spine.
"Mmm... god, what a pretty ass you have."
"What--what are you gonna do?"
"Nothing you won't like."
He continued massaging my deep inner crack with his thumbs, squeezing my firm cheeks with the other fingers. In spite of myself, I arched my back just slightly, easing my buttocks fully into his hands.
"Ohhh, yeah..." he sighed, digging more deeply into my flesh. He licked his lips with an audible smack. His voice was entranced. "Beautiful pale little ass... Round. Tight.... Fuck... It's as nice as Qasim's..."
That sent a bolt of white-hot arousal through my body. Had I heard him right?
"Qasim?" My voice almost squeaked, like a young adolescent's. I was positively coiled with excitement, realizing too late that I'd begun twisting in my bonds as Amir massaged me, never breaking his rhythm. The rope was very soft, but I knew it could still chafe. So did he.
"Stop that!" He paused only long enough to give my right cheek a good, nasty smack, then redoubled his firm and loving massage of my butt. "You'll hurt your pretty white skin. Besides, I don't want any questions from your parents." Another smack, lighter. "Or anyone."
The bed moved as he shifted position. Suddenly, I felt his breath tickle my ass-cheeks. The breaths were hurried, steamy.
"Yeah." He breathed the word directly into my crack. "You and Qasim. Hottest fucking buns I ever saw."
"Ohhh.." The combination of his delicate hot breath on my most sensitive of private spots, and his continued incestuous talk about his sexy little brother had me roiling, trying to rub myself off against the mattress.
"Look at you... humping the bed like a fucking dog... And you say I'm a slut." There was a perfect picture in my lust-addled mind of his radiant full-lipped sneer, his dazzling richly dark eyes, as he gloated over my trapped body.
Oh, Amir, my little Arabian blossom, when I get out of these ropes you aren't gonna sit comfortably for a month...
Probably wisest not to voice that thought at this sticky juncture.
Sticky was exactly the right word. The way I was leaking--not to mention sweating--I'd be doing my laundry too pretty soon. I was usually so fastidious about not creaming on my sheets.
Amir went on, almost matter-of-factly, as if he had no idea of the galvanic effect his words had on me. "He does that too, you know. Qasim. He humps the bed. While he's getting a spanking. I've seen it. Dad doesn't know what it is... thinks he's moving around `cause it hurts him. But I know." There it was, again, that quality in his voice that made it seem that his words tasted good to him. "Makes me so hot when he does that, and I get to see that fine butt of his wiggling around, all warm and blushing-red. He's like you, he just can't stay still while he's getting it."
I could feel his breath on that sensitive place between my cheeks the whole time he talked. His hands warmly cupping my buns. I tried to push my butt into his lips, hoping he would lick my hole. But instead of a tender tongue on my bud, I felt a strong slap across my unprepared cheeks. Then another, then another. At first he didn't say anything, just swatted my vulnerable bottom so he could see it quiver up close. Then he told me to be still--but I'd already more-or-less gotten the message. After he'd finished heating up my ass, he began to swath my cheeks with his tongue, getting them well-lathered with spit. It made me squirm. He utterly ignored my hole, and I knew now not to try to direct him toward the neglected orifice. He dampened my freshly pinked-up mounds. His tongue felt great. And, to be honest, so had his open palm.
"Stay still," he said again, when my buttocks were satisfactorily moist. Satisfactory to him, anyway. He gave them another good smack to emphasize his point. It stung fiercely on my damp flesh. Now I knew why he'd licked me. That sting.
"Don't look behind you either."
SLAP
"Keep your rear end exactly where it is now."
I heard the bedsprings. Then his weight was gone. Soft footsteps. A zipper. The sound of a hand rummaging through fabric. Was he planning to fuck me? My body tensed. Sweat fell in my blurry eyes and stung them.
Silence, except for Amir's quickened breath someplace behind me. I kept my face in the pillow. Then--
WHACK
"Ohhhh!"
I was in no way ready for the hot stinging line that descended on my well-licked bottom. He had struck the fullest portion of my rump with something long and flexible, and it hurt like hell. Worse than the cane, maybe.
"Know what that is?" he asked, his voice bubbling with dark glee.
"N-No..." I hated the way my voice was wavering, but I couldn't help it. Now both sweat and surprised tears misted my eyes.
"It's a switch. A long stick, basically. I got it from the back yard." Again with a kind of pride in his voice, as if he expected a shiny star sticker or something for being such a go-getter. I was going to hurt this boy bad when he let me up. "Uh, I think you're supposed to cut it yourself, if it's for your behind. But that'll have to wait for another time."
Another time?!
SNAP
Switch and bare mounds connected again, raising another thin horrible line of infernal heat just below the first. Oh, it stung. I shifted on the bed. Still hard, my belly slimy. Glad he couldn't see that.
I clenched my cheeks and wiggled my arms in the ropes. The stick was still pressed against my rear, right where it'd struck. My ass smarted awfully just from those two strokes. I wanted to rub it, but I sure as hell wasn't going to ask him if I could--or if he'd do it. I'd probably fall asleep tonight rubbing my tail and wake up rubbing it. If I could only get my hands on it for a second, it'd be worth it.
"Fuck, Amir," I groaned, "why'd you have to tie me up?" I sounded more whiny than indignant.
"Because--" He laughed. "I don't know if you've noticed, Mr. Eisen, but you're not exactly the most cooperative individual on the planet... And I needed you to cooperate. Now, if you're good during your whipping I'll rub your red bottom for you afterwards. If you give me trouble, I'll still rub it-- but I'll spank it first. Understand?"
I understood. I wanted my butt rubbed.
If I could be punished for "making trouble", did that mean I was also being punished now? Or was he just having fun? Or both? If he meant to actually punish me, what for? What perplexed me was not the dearth of possible reasons, but the wealth.
CRACK
No time to consider my misdeeds now. My sit-spot had just received a fierce stroke, and all I could concentrate on was my unfortunate behind, which was swaying back and forth as it had during my caning, as if to try and create some paltry breeze.
"Ohh!"
Smacked again with the wicked switch. This time the sting kissed only my left cheek, which drove me crazy, like an itch. I needed him to whip the other bun. They were both attached to the same uncooperative boy, after all.
But instead of another stroke, I felt the end of the long thin stick poking between my blazing butt- cheeks, then tapping my tender crack.
"Want me to hit you again?"
I honestly had no idea how to answer. Yes? No?
"Hmm, Aaron? Want me to hit your bottom again?" His voice was light and sweet.
Moaning, I moved my buttocks back into the tip of his switch. It felt smooth and damp, as if he'd sanded it and soaked it in water. My back seemed to be arching on its own. He ran that switch-tip up and down my crack as I writhed into it, carefully bypassing my little bud. My buns continued to burn unevenly.
Amir gave me a tap on the thigh.
"You want me to hit you again, just ask."
He changed angles and tapped my perineum, which made me raise my entire backside. He slid the stuck under my body and tapped my hanging nuts with it. Then he used it to nudge the sack out of the way. His stick came in contact with my stick--still as straight and firm with excitement as it had ever been.
"No secret, Aaron. You like it. A lot."
He tapped my shaft again, then my balls--one at a time, two taps--then began alternating his taps between my sweaty pucker, my perineum, and the flesh along my crack. The taps didn't hurt at all, but the regular gentle rhythm was torment when all I wanted was--
"OK--OK--Please. Just hit me."
I didn't need to ask twice. My patience was rewarded with a fiery, switched right buttock. I cried out in both pain and relief, clenching my ass, feeling the friction of my cock between the mattress and my belly.
As soon as my butt relaxed, he changed to stroking the stick lightly over it. No less a torture than the tapping. My whole body was raw humming nerves. He ran the tip over the welts he'd already created. Almost as soon as this maddening caress began, I realized I missed the sting. I thrust my bottom up again; bizarrely, this non-verbal request seemed less humiliating than asking him to please hit me. He refused to take the hint, instead tracing the stick gently across my testicles.
"No." My voice came out choked, frustrated.
"No? Well, what do you want, Eisen? Huh? You have to tell me."
I swallowed my pride--what little there was left of it--and perked my backside up higher. It was hard to get leverage with my wrists tied. "Please--whip me. Across my whole ass. Nice and hard."
Nice and hard? Was I insane?
"Happy to oblige," he said. "Here. Get up on your knees."
I did it, slowly, his hand on my back.
Then he obliged. Hurt every bit as much as I'd expected it to, and I screamed, tears and sweat standing out on my face. I would have given anything to see what I looked like to him. Long white body, lean muscular back, round red-striped butt. Thick dark hair stuck to my face with sweat. The narcissist in me savored the image.
He hadn't covered as much of my ass as Edgy had, but he wasn't as experienced at it yet (yet?!). He'd focused his blows exclusively on the plumpest part of my firm behind.
Several more times I asked him to hit me hard, and several mores times my raised ass accepted burning punishment. After each stroke was a lull in which my butt was either tapped or caressed with the switch, and then I'd beg for it again--and get it. I was begging through thick tears now, cock and eyes and pores leaking.
Finally, Amir stopped and rested his hand on my raw blazing buttocks.
"Beautiful..." he sighed. "You're so red. You must hurt bad."
He ran his hand over my damaged cheeks, then up over my lower back, petting me. After a few seconds, he moved up next to me and turned me on my side. I was crying--and my vision is awful without my glasses anyway--so I couldn't see a thing. His fingers combed my sweaty hair tenderly. I closed my eyes sand he kissed the tears away from the lids. I felt him untying me. He brought my hands close to him and kissed them, then kissed my wrists where my twisting had caused a little redness from the rope. Shaking, I slid my arms around him. He reached for my hot cock and in a dozen exquisite strokes my sheets, thighs, belly, and his hand were splattered with glistening jism. The orgasm was intense. It twisted through me, and the cum felt like a bullet discharged from my cock. His wet mouth covered mine; as he kissed me I felt the rhythm of him jerking his own cock with his cum-covered hand. When he shot he moaned into my mouth. We lay there breathlessly. The smarting in my ass slowly overwhelmed me. I made a pained noise and my lips trembled.
Amir pulled my comforter up around our nude bodies and hugged me fiercely, keeping his face near mine so I could see him. His big dark eyes were sated, soft with concern.
"Aaron, I'm sorry if I hurt you--"
"I loved it. You know. You said so yourself."
"You did seem to. I--uh--wasn't sure you would... You know I would've let you up if you asked."
"I know."
"But you didn't ask."
"I know. And you explained. You're right." I smirked. "I'm uncooperative."
"You're also beautiful." He snuggled closer to me, whispering into my neck. "And I think you understand you needed to be knocked down a little."
"I'm glad you did it." I laced my fingers in his curls, stifling an abrupt yawn. "And I can't wait to get you back."
He smiled sleepily. "Looking forward to it."
We lay with our limbs twined together, his head resting between my neck and shoulder. Soon I was enveloped in the warm living scent of his hair, the heat of his body curled against me, the clean sound of his deep contented breathing. The burn in my ass somehow ceased to bother me---for the time being---and I gratefully followed Amir into a velvet oblivion.