Thanks to everyone who emailed me encouragement (and their own hot boyhood experiences!) from my first-ever Nifty contribution, which can be read at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/tree-house-torture-game. All others should read that first for the background of this new chapter.
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This installment takes place a few days after my friend Kenny and I (both 14) discovered our mutual enjoyment of bondage and torture games during his interrogation of me as part of a neighborhood war game during summer vacation.
After that afternoon up in Kenny's tree house, we didn't see each other for several days. Well, we saw each other, but only from each other's yards across the street. We studiously avoided eye contact, and didn't come over to say hi or hang out, as we typically would before.
I didn't know how Kenny was feeling, but for my part I was struggling through an intense and confusing mixture of lust and embarrassment. On the shame side, I was kind of horrified to think of the line that we'd crossed in our friendship. The thought of being thought of as gay probably still terrifies many teenage boys caught up in the frenzy of experimentation, but this was the 1970s, and the possible stigma was even more pervasive.
But then every thought of what we did still made me so damn hard! I'd lie in bed at night reliving every second of the treehouse interrogation, and every time it made me instantly hard, and soon in the bathroom for an intense jerk off session. And a huge part of me wanted to do it again, wanted so desperately to experience more torture. However, I was sure that Kenny had to be totally weirded out toward me because of what happened, and that he would probably never talk to me again, let alone want to play sex games.
I don't know whether I would have ever had the courage to break that ice and talk to Kenny again, but as it turned out I was relieved of having to find out. One afternoon I was sitting on our front steps mindlessly throwing pebbles at the squirrels. I had been sitting out there a lot lately, sort of half hoping Kenny would see me and come over. And then, he did. When I saw him coming across the street my heart started pounding. Was he going to yell at me? Call me a fag? Tell me we could never be friends again?
Kenny ambled up our walk, his head down, hands in his pockets. Somehow his shy demeanor gave me a glimmer of hope; maybe he was just like me. Just maybe he wanted to get back to the amazing feelings we'd shared that hot summer day too, but was just as much at a loss on how to get back there, how to get past the shame and embarrassment as I was.
"Hey," Kenny ventured.
"Hey yourself," I replied, with a sheepish smile." What's up?"
"Nuthin' much. Bored mostly. How `bout you?"
"Same."
Silence for several seconds, shuffling of feet, beating of hearts, then:
"What to come over?"
It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping up and shouting, "Yippee!" but I still had enough teenage boy macho reserve to keep from doing that. But I did smile broadly and said, "Sure!"
We ran across the street and around into his backyard, and then came the inevitable, "So, what do you want to do?"
I knew very well what I wanted to do....but did he want the same? I decided since he had been bold enough to come over and invite me back to his yard, it was my turn to be bold. I swallowed hard, then just forced the words out: "Could we, y'know....go back up there?"
As I said that I turned my head and looked up at the treehouse. I actually hears a small gasp come from Kenny.
"You....you want to?" he said, haltingly. And I think we both knew the "want to" meant more that just climb up in the treehouse.
"Yeah...yeah I really do."
And just like that we were back in the mode. All shyness and pretense gone. It was like we had a secret code between us, a set of cryptic signals only we knew that said everything we couldn't bare to say out loud.
Kenny pointed his index finger at me, and formed his hand into a "gun."
"Then, march, prisoner. You'll be sorry we recaptured you. Escape from prison camp 17 is not tolerated. You must be punished. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I understand all right."
I turned and marched over to the ladder, already feeling the pleasure of a developing boner in my shorts. I climbed up to the treehouse, Kenny right behind me, covering me with his imaginary gun. Once I pulled myself up into the treehouse, I immediately went to my knees and placed my hands behind my back, as if they were tied. When Kenny's head came through the trap door I saw his eyebrows shoot up at the sight of me. There was now no doubt where this was going, and I think at that moment we both relaxed into our roles.
My friend ordered me to stand, and reached over to help me to my feet, enabling me to keep up the ruse that my hands were tied.
"Guards, untie his hands."
I looked confused for a moment. What guards? And then I got it; he wanted me to have my hands free, but had to keep the role play going. I wriggled for a moment, and then brought my hands to my sides.
"Now prisoner, prepare yourself for some very unpleasant punishment. You have defied Prisoner Camp 17, and you will suffer for it! Remove your shirt."
I very willingly pulled my t-shirt over my head and then stood with my hands locked behind my head, so that my chest was thrust out toward Kenny.
Kenny walked slowly around me, every so often reaching out and lightly touching my exposed skin. "Nice. Very nice. It will be a delight to torture you, Prisoner 42."
When he came around to my front, he ran his fingers up from my stomach and started brushing his fingers back and forth over my hardening nipples. "I seem to remember these were particularly sensitive."
His words and touch were driving me insane with lust. I was so turned on I was ready to submit to anything. And that same lust drove me to a moment of inspiration. I decided to throw a curve ball into our game to see what he would do with it.
Suddenly I fell to my knees in front of him, and looked up with the most pleading look I could muster. "Please, please don't torture me sir! Please, I'll do anything. Anything! I'll be your slave, obey ANY order you give me if you don't torture me."
Kenny looked surprised indeed, and quite pleased at the same time. He quickly drew back into his character.
"Hmmm, slave huh? Do anything I say? You realize if you are my slave you will exist for my pleasure, right? You will live to please me? And I may still torture you any time I want if it pleases me?"
"Yes, master."
"Then show me that you mean it. Do something that shows you are my complete slave."
I thought for a moment. What could I do. Then again, the boldness of pure teenage boy lust took over. I stood, and began unbuckling my belt and the button of my shorts. As I slowly lowered the zipper fly, I looked up and caught Kenny licking his lips, his eyes full of excitement. I quickly lowered my shorts, then placed my fingers inside the waistband of my boxers.
"A slave should be naked," I said in a hoarse whisper. And then I lowered my undershorts.
My friend made no secret that he was fascinated with my 4" long cock, jutting straight out from my sparse pubic hair. He said nothing, but began to undress himself. I put a hand up to stop him.
"Your slave should do that."
Kenny dropped his arms to his side and I approached him. As I removed each piece of his clothing I could hear his breathing rate increase. Finally he was down to his tighty whiteys. I stood back for a moment and said, "What does my master wish?"
"I want my slave to make me feel good."
I took a step forward and began rubbing all over his chest and abdomen. He was flinching, and I could see his young cock pushing his underwear straight out. I kept moving my hands closer and closer to his hard little rod, but never quite touching it yet. I intuitively knew the power of teasing to make a guy harder than he ever thought he could be.
Each time my hands got close to his shorts, he would gasp out, "Please...please...please." I knew he wanted me to touch it more than he wanted anything in the world.
And then even my patience for teasing gave out. In a flash I pulled down his undershorts and he quickly lifted each foot to step out of them. Then, without a moment more of ceremony, I grabbed his boy cock in my fist. That moment, if possible, was even more incredible than the orgasm he had given me earlier in the week as I hung from ropes suspended from his treehouse roof. There was something uniquely thrilling about holding another guy's supreme pleasure in my hand.
And then I began to stroke. No slow teasing now, just jerking away for the life of me. I got down on my knees in front of Kenny so I could stroke even harder. Kenny threw his head back and just gasped over and over, saying, "Oh my god! Oh wow! Oh! Oh!"
My whole being now was about that beautiful stiff column in my hand. Imagining Kenny's pleasure became my whole pleasure. I wanted him to have his mind blown the way he'd blown mine before.
And then suddenly, before I was ready, Kenny sucked in his stomach hard, and he came. Oh my god did he cum! The first jets spewed right on my face before I could move out of the way. I leaned back and the next two fell on my chest. I was so excited that I just kept on stroking, resulting in Kenny giving out a sharp yell and batting my hand away.
"Owww! It's sensitive! You idiot slave, you want too far! Now you have to pay!"
And so it would be back to torture for me....
Thanks so much for reading, and special thanks to all the great guys who emailed me after my first chapter of this. Please keep sending me your own experiences, your reactions to my stories, and any suggestions you have. Reach me at ibfoasm62@gmail.com.
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