My best friend messages me. “You got a screwdriver?”
“What kind?” I ask. He sends me a picture of his computer.
Being in Canada’s a tough sell right now, with so many cities going into lockdown because of Covid. His parents made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, and now he’s heading back to his home country.
This guy is different that my usual anonymous favourites. After five years, I know everything about him, his favourite colour, his hopes and dreams. I’ve heard about every boyfriend he’s had. He only likes hairy bears, though lately his tastes have been broadening. He goes through relationships every few months. He wants what he can’t have, and once he can have it, he loses interest. I’ve heard the same story from him, as he goes through guy after guy. I always tell him so, he always says “Oh yeah!” Like its some huge insight.
But him and me, we’re just buddies. No complications. Nothing even happens between us. Except that one time. But we never talked about it after.
I hope he’ll update me on his life today. Is he still seeing the Lawyer? Then there’s Spanish Guy. And the new one from London.
I get there with my screwdriver set. He’s out of work now and lives in a basement room. (It seems the parental pressure to leave came when it posted a video of it).
His life is in boxes. “I can’t take these,” he says. “You want them?”
Sure. I sigh. I’ll value-village them. Secretly, I plan to take one sweater I’ve seen him wear. Chuck the rest.
“Where’s the computer?” i ask.
He points to the floor. The thing has no case. I kneel down and look at it. Instead, I see something fuzzy on the floor. I pick them up. A pair of fuzzy handcuffs, lined in neon fur.
He grins. “I just found those. They’re from Aroon.”
“Aroon? I don’t remember you telling me about these,” I smiled. “That was last year, right?”
“Two years ago.”
“Oh, Aroon, Aroon, how much I didn’t know.” I smile. His relationship with Arron soured after they argued over a restaurant bill.
Something changes. He seems to make up his mind.
“Hold out your wrists,” he says.
“What?”
“Hold out your wrists. Behind you.”
I kneel down on the floor and put my wrists behind me. He fumbles around and clasps the handcuffs on me.
“Tight?” he asks.
I nod.
“Close your eyes.”
“Okay.”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
Oh shit. I remember this.
“Yessir. Thank you sir.” I close my eyes, and immediately he slaps me on the side of my face. My cheek is stinging and my ears are throbbing. “Thank you sir.”
He slaps me again. I flinch, and then he unexpectedly slaps the other side. “Thank you sir.” I peek and see him grinning at me, like I’m his new toy.
“You can open your eyes.” He falls back on the bed, sticks his feet at me. “Smell them. Smell those dirty socks.”
I pretend to sniff them, exhaling instead. The floor is full of covid, for all I know.
“Take them off for me.”
My hands are still cuffed behind me. I slide over on my knees, and see that thankfully they are ankle socks. I grab them above the heel and deftly slip them over and off his foot. He doesn’t help at all. He just watches me struggle.
“Lick my feet, slave.”
“Yessir. Thank you sir.” I stick out my tongue. The sole of his foot is cold and thick, and I can see dust on them from the floor. I dance my tongue tip across it. When he sticks out his toe, I take it into my mouth and suck on it, and he looks down at me approvingly.
“I heard you like to suck.”
“Yessir.”
“Get up,” he says. He stands up and I’m kneeling in front of him. “Smell it.”
I can see his boner through his track pants. I press my face into it, tracing its length through the thick fabric with my lips.
He grips me by my shoulders and lifts me up, then slips his T-shirt down over my head. I’m in the darkness of his shirt, with my face pressed against his chest. He lowers himself, and mashes his nipple against my nose. I reposition so I can flick it with my tongue. He stands there for a few seconds, enjoying the flicking, before getting up again. He points to the band of his underwear under the track pants.
“Take them off. With your teeth.” he says.
Like I have a choice? I lean over, cuffed hands aching behind me, and deftly grab his waistband with my teeth and pull it down. It takes a couple of tries as it gets caught getting over his bulge.
I stay there, kneeling on the floor and staring at my best friend’s dick. I’ve often wondered what it was like and I finally get to see it. It’s not huge, but deliciously round and pointing straight out at me.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Suck it.” he demands.
“Yessir.” I breath. I open my mouth and slide in around him. He stands there, hands on his hips, and watches. Bobbing my head back and forth is not easy. If I go too far forward, I’ll fall over, and I won’t have my hands to catch me.
He steps back. “Bend over. Take your underwear off,” he tells me. I lean down, touching the hard wood floor with my forehead, and I here my open a drawer behind me. I manage to slide my underwear down over my thighs, and they stop there, leaving me even more helpless than before. With excitement and rising panic I here crinkling and a plastic tube snap shut, before I feel his body heat behind me.
I’ve been fucked before, but just barely. I am still not sure I like it. I’m leaning towards no. But he’s my friend, and suddenly I feel him slip between my but cheeks, slippery and cold and gooey.
“Relax your hole,” he says.
“I’m trying–” I say.
SLAP. The crack echos in the room, and I yelp as my ass stings.
“Yessir.”
“Relax it…. Relax,” he orders. I’m trying my best but these muscles are still unfamiliar to me. It doesn’t matter. He shifts slightly and then pushes hard, against something that is not supposed to give but does. I grit my teeth and softly whimper into the floor, hoping he does not hear me. He;s fucking me now, pushing further into my body with each thrust. My whole body tenses, and it takes everything out of me just to remain on all fours there, and not fall away from him.
After a minute he stops, and sits on the bed. “Get up,” he says.
As I roll on my side to get up, I pull a little to hard, and the pink handcuffs snap apart, releasing my arms. I keep them together to hide it. If he notices, he doesn’t say.
“Be honest with me. What do you like better?”
I hesitate, and look down. “I like to suck, sir,” I tell him.
“Really?” he asks incredulously. “OK. Get rid of the shit covered condom and suck me, then,”
“Thank you sir. Thank you!” I say, with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. He lays back on the bed and grabs his phone, not even giving me his attention. I use my hands to pull off the thing, revealing his stiff, moist dick. Now I am in familiar territory. I settle down and get to work.
It is difficult to tell what, if anything I am doing right, and I worry that I will not succeed. The minutes pass, and my mouth gets tired, but I am determined. I try going fast, and quickly tire. I try going deep, I try sucking, which gets difficult. The only thing that works is the odd time he slaps my cheek. That makes him harder.
It must have been 20 minutes later when he shifts his legs slightly and finally looks up at me. He’s going to stop me now. I’ve failed. I meet his eyes when suddenly I feel the pulsing, and my mouth is filling with his load.
I don’t get up, but I remain there, with his dick draining in my mouth, for several minutes while he reaches down and runs his hands through my hair, massaging my scalp.
“You are good at it,” he tells me.
“Thank you sir.”
He gets up off the bed. “I gotta piss,” he says. “Come over here.” He moves to stand directly over his computer. It’s lying on its side with the open motherboard exposed to the air.
“Should we get a towel?” I offer.
“Do you want another slapping? Just don’t spill.” he orders.
I sidle up to the other side of the computer, and gently wrap my lips around his dick. I can feel the delicate folds of skin stretched on its underside. I open wider to try not to touch it. We stay there for a while.
“Its just a little hard,” he says, under his breath.
Finally, he grunts and I immediately know it because a few drops of pungent urine drip onto my taste buds. He lets out a deep breath, and some more spurts out.
He stops and says, “Swallow it.”
I’m sweating now. The computer is right under me. I gulp down a mouthful of hot piss, then open my mouth again for more.
He’s relaxed now, and immediately he unleashes a torrent. The stream hits against my tongue, making it tingle. I can hear it splashing around inside of my mouth as it fills up. Then, when I’m almost ready to pull away cause I’m gonna spill, he stops. “Swallow.”
It takes two gulps to get it down this time. Then he puts his soft dick in my mouth, grunts, and bangs it against my lips, shaking out the last few drops for me.
I sit there obediently, not moving, waiting while he zips up.
“Uh, you can get up now,” he says. “It’s over.”
Later, over a Starbucks, we’re talking, and he asks how it was.
“Actually, it was quite a big load,” I tell him.
“Really? Wow, cause I had sex with Spanish Guy last night too.”
