The play room started out as a joke, but the idea festered, and eventually a plan was created. Nothing fancy, or overly dramatic, but a room Mason could play out his fetishes, and the fetishes of those who came over. Mason lived alone in a three bedroom ranch in a quiet old neighborhood close to downtown, and in the bedroom across the hall from his master bedroom his plan came to fruition. He painted the walls dark violent to allow for a dim weak light. He changed the lighting to three simple can lights on dimmers and put down a sheet vinyl flooring in a dark pattern that looked like tile flooring; something easily cleanable. Then he built his equipment. First was a pipe frame, something that looked heavy, industrial, and from this he hung a sling, his most expensive purchase; a nice heavy leather one with heavy chains to support it. Then he built the wood platform about the size of a twin bed and on one end he constructed a stockade. He painted it all black; then he mounted the chrome eye hooks around the sides and the stockade hardware. On the wall closest to the platform he mounted one narrow shelf all the way down the wall.
He didn't try to use the play room for nearly two weeks after it was finished, but would just stand in the doorway admiring it, or go in to test the stockade, or light the candles sitting all the way down the shelf, enjoying the light they cast across the room, watching them melt down some, creating cavities in their thick columns. He toyed with the lights finding the setting he liked best and he eventually added a small cabinet in the corner to put locks, keys, lubricate, and other items he thought he might want when he finally started to use the room.
His friends joked with him about the play room, even giving him dildos, lube, black rubber gloves on his birthday when he was constructing it, telling him they wanted to use it, or come over and watch; some even hinted to wanting to be used in it. But he knew these friends, some of which he had messed around with in the past, but not now, and they would not be using the play room, would not be in attendance when he used it. It would be a distraction, a hindrance to the mood and it would ruin the experience for him, and for the other person.
He didn't often try to hook up on social websites but for this he searched out a couple that seemed to have the right people; those looking to be dominate and those looking to be submissive. Mason created a profile and posted it; the usual stats about being five eleven, one seventy five, black hair and the other typical information. Then he got his cock hard and took a picture of it; he had a cock that was long, an impression of length enhance more so by it being thin. He was able to penetrate guys easily, and then push in all the way with little effort; to fuck them with ease. Then he took a picture of the platform with the stockade. He thought that should do it, for anyone on the site was only after bondage and sex. Long term relationships and friends could apply elsewhere.
It didn't take long and he had several interested. They talked back and forth so he could feel them out, see which were serious and which thought it some fun game to play. After a couple of days Mason had a couple of guys he wanted to have over. One was only available to come over during the week in the evenings and the other said it best for him to come on a Saturday or Sunday. Mason made a time with each one for that week.
On Wednesday night he was expecting Owen. He claimed he was twenty four but he looked younger, and Mason made a note to check his driver's license when he showed up. He was five six and rather skinny with brown hair that was slightly long. He said he had four tattoos and his photo showed silver hoops in each ear. He looked a little scruffy, street wise, in his photos; definitely not a pretty boy, which made him more interesting to Mason.
Wednesday, right at eight o'clock Mason's doorbell rang. Owen stood on the porch wearing a dog collar, a stretched out and ripped black t-shirt with an image of a crude red star with wings. It was a band t-shirt, some odd name, it took Mason a minute to figure out: Lacuna Coil. He'd never heard of them but thought about the music he had listened to ten years ago and wondered if this guy would know them. He had on military style cargo pants that hung so loose on his body Mason didn't know how they stayed on. Mason found his appearance strangely appealing. But then again what did Owen think, seeing Mason in nothing but a pair of ripped, faded jeans that hung low on his waist, barely above his cock and no shirt. His upper body, well toned from exercise, exposed. He wore his black boots, knowing they would be the thing to set the tone, to give him the look expected by Owen. Mason opened the door further to allow Owen to come.
"Yes sir" he replied. Was he being polite or submissive already?
Owen came into the living room and stood in the center of the room. He looked anxious, his eyes darting around, fidgeting with his hands. Mason came over to him and looked him in the eye, which Owen returned, keeping eye contact, standing still.
"You said you're twenty four but you look younger; let me see your driver's license."
Owen didn't say a word, didn't break eye contact as he pulled his wallet out, a big bulky black thing attached to his pants by a chain. He opened it, held it up and watched as Mason read the date of his birth. It was May of 1989, so he really was the age he said and Mason relaxed, stepped back, which caused Owen to do the same.
"You want anything to drink? I've got beer and some hard liquor."
"You got bourbon?"
"Yeah; how do you like it?"
"Just pour some over an ice cube."
They each had a drink, something to take the edge off, a little time to get a feel of each other. When Mason finished he noticed Owen setting down an empty glass. He told him he could use the bathroom if he needed before they got started. Owen just nodded and went down the hall to the door Mason had indicated. He was gone for a while and Mason began to wonder what he was up to when he heard the door open. Owen came back in the room naked, wearing only the dog collar. His skinny torso was smooth, with only the tattoos breaking the surface of his skin. One was low, just above his cock, another was by his right nipple and there was one on each calf of his legs. His cock hung half hard, arcing out over his nuts which hung really loose in their sac; a nice long hang. Each nipple was pierced with a bar through them. Owen was definitely different from the guys Mason had hooked up with in the past, much less dated. He went up to Owen and realized he held a leash in one hand, which he held up to Mason. Mason hooked it to the collar and led him to the play room.
The stockade was sitting propped open and Mason pointed to it as he unhooked the leash. Owen said nothing as he went over and lay on his back, his neck resting on the middle curve and his wrists in the two outer curves, waiting for the top half to be lowered. Mason put down the top half and padlocked it, letting Owen know he was really secured.
"Your safe word is blue."
"I don't need one" was all he said in reply.
Owen ran his hands over the boy, for that is what he looked like naked, so hairless, so smooth and skinny, but his cock was not a little boys, and it was getting hard already, moving around to point toward his stomach, thickening up. Mason tugged on the nipple rings then leaned over and took a bar in his teeth, tugging it harder. He heard Owen gasped, felt his chest rise up. Mason took Owen's cock, stroked it; felt it harden more. He tugged on Owen's nuts, stretching them down, seeing how far he could pull them away from his body. He saw the sac turn angry red, he saw Owen tense up, his skin shiver slightly with the tight hold on his nuts. Mason leaned over and ran his tongue over the tight skin of the sac, felt the smoothness of the skin. Mason finally let go and stood back admiring Owen as he lay in the stockade. Mason went to the cabinet and pulled out wrist cuffs, thinking his ankles cuffs would be too large for Owen's skinny legs. He was right, the wrist cuffs fit nice and snug. He hooked chain to each one and fastened them to the corner of the platform pulling Owen's legs apart. Mason loved the way Owen's nuts hung almost all the way to the platform between his legs, the way his cock arced up over his stomach, hard and flexing. Mason went to his cabinet, pulled out a small butt plug and lubed it up. Back at the platform, Owen unable to see what he was doing, he took Owen's cock and balls in one hand, gripped them tightly, tugging on them, watching them get red, blood engorged. Owen's legs trembled, the muscles in his stomach quivered as he rose his hips up. Owen's knees parted as much as they could, spreading himself open, revealing himself more to Mason. Mason pushed the plug up to his opening, twisted it, pushed it against him, letting him feel it. Owen tried to close his legs, appeared to not want the plug in his hole, but he didn't use the safe word; he didn't say anything as Mason breached his opening, penetrated him, pushing the plug into him, slowly, twisting, probing. Soon the plug slid in, nudged in tight. Mason let go of Owen's cock and balls, let him relax back down.
Mason left the room to let Owen lay there, thinking, wondering what Mason would actually do, letting him lay there naked and bound. Owen thought about the events that caused him to come here, to a man's house and let himself be put in a stockade, his hole stuffed with something. He'd never been penetrated like this before, although he wanted it. He tried to get Nina, his girlfriend, to finger him during sex, but she thought it was nasty; a goth girl with prudish attitudes. It made him laugh and frustrated him. He'd bought her a dildo, and she loved him to use it on her, but when he hinted for her to use it on him, she ignored him, thought it a sick joke; queer. At the Purgatory parties, where people celebrated their fetishes, he saw so many guys dancing with other guys and wondered what it was like to have sex with another guy; to let him stick his dick in your ass. Did it hurt? He now fingered himself all the time when he masturbated and found it made him cum harder, more intense. He thought that maybe that would be enough, until he and Nina went to Jason's, his closest friend, to meet his new girlfriend, Alicia. She seemed so exotic to Owen, so mischievous. They had been sitting around for a while when the subject of sex came up, and Owen saw how Jason smiled at the frank way Alicia talked about sex, what she liked, and how she got Jason to do things. Then she admitted how she like to watch porn, even during sex, and Owen noticed this made Jason suddenly nervous. Alicia got them to agree to watch one of her favorites and when she brought them out, they were all gay porn. Alicia smiled and said yes, she loved to watch two guys fucking. The movie was typical of porn; no plot but the guys quickly naked and sucking each other, rimming each other and eventually fucking. Nina had left the room at the rimming scene, saying she needed to go out and have a cigarette. But Owen was transfixed, unable to take his eyes off the screen, especially when the camera showed a guy's dick sinking into the ass of the other, just slide right into him. It made Owen's cock hard and he shifted uncomfortably through the entire time the movie played. And he couldn't stop thinking about it. The actual act of penetration haunted his fantasies. He wanted to try it, to try it the only way he knew he would submit to it; in bondage. Now he was laying here waiting for Mason, waiting for what was next; would he be forced to suck his dick, or would Mason play with his ass more, stuff something else into his hole, or would he do something else?
Mason went into his bedroom and got his jeans off. His cock was half hard in anticipation. He put a cock ring on, a nice wide one, that made his nuts tighten up and his cock harden on up. With his boots back on he went back to his playroom. He dimmed the lights more and moved to the head of the platform. Owen was wide eyed, waiting, his cock still hard. He looked at Mason, naked, standing near his head, Mason's cock hovering above his face. Mason pushed his cock down, rubbed it over Owen's face, roughly, smearing the first drop of pre-cum over his lips. Owen opened his mouth, tongue out, waiting, willing. Mason didn't make him wait long as he put the head of his cock on Owen's tongue and pushed it along its length as it guided Mason's cock into his mouth. Mason pushed until he was at the entrance of Owen's throat, pushed until Owen gagged, then he pulled back and let the boy mouth it, run his tongue around the head, put suction to it, then he pushed again, pushed to Owen's throat, pushed more, seeing Owen take it, letting it slide all the way until his groin was pushed into Owen's reddening face, his air cut off. He held still a moment, enjoying the warm wet sensation surrounding his cock. He pulled back; then fucked his cock along Owen's tongue, pushing back into his throat, working a nice slow rhythm, pumping his cock through his wet slick mouth and into his throat. When Mason felt his cock harden up, really stiffen, getting close, he pulled out and backed off, leaving the boy gasping for breath, his stomach heaving up and down, his cock still hard.
Mason pulled out a strip of black cloth and blindfolded Owen; then moved to the side, stooped down and ran his hands over the boy's torso, over his cock, stroking it, feeling it swell, harden up more. He tugged on the bars through his nipples till Owen rose up, arcing his back, his muscles tense. Mason leaned over and took his cock and sucked it, slowly up and down, feeling it slide over his tongue, push into the back of his mouth, the blunt spongy head blocking his throat off for a moment. It was good. He went down on it again as he took the plug buried in Owen's ass and tugged on it, felt the resistance of his opening to let it go, felt the tension in Owen's muscles, his skin quivering. Mason pulled his mouth up slowly along the shaft, putting a tight suction on it, feeling its vein covered shaft move over his tongue and through his lips. When he had the head trapped just behind his teeth, he pulled the plug out, and Owen shoved upward, ramming his cock into Mason's mouth. It was perfect.
Getting up he turned to the shelf and retrieved two candles. First one, then the other, he poured the hot wax out in a thin line up and down the boy's torso, watching him push up, tense, quivering, but he did not cry out. Mason got another candle, a large black one and stooped down by the side of Owen. He held up Owen's nuts, tight in their sac and dripped hot wax over them, coating them till they were solid black. He drizzled the hot wax over Owen's cock, watching it flex up and down, the muscles in Owen's lower stomach tense up, his breathing ragged. Mason covered the cock completely, heated it up, making it flex up and down, pre-cum drool from the head. He got two more candles and with one then the other, he dripped the wax over Owen's thighs, knees to groin, he let the wax drizzle down, run over the side of his thighs, harden in the sparse hair that covered them. Mason saw how Owen struggled with it, jerked around in the stockade, his stomach heaving up and down; his cock hard. He kept it up, one after the next until he had used the entire row of candles, until Owens torso was nearly a sheet of wax, which kept breaking, fragmenting as his breathing was ragged, with deep full movement of his stomach. His cock and balls covered, and lines of wax trailed down his sides, down below his balls and over his hole. Mason left the room, turning out the light, letting Owen lay there.
Owen lay there, trembling for a long time, his skin alive, hot; his muscles aching from their constant tensing up. He lay there breathing hard; he lay there knowing his cock was still hard. He lay there waiting, ready, waiting more, wondering if he could go back to Nina, wondering if he wanted to.
Mason came back and broke loose and pulled the wax from Owen's cock and balls. He manipulated Owen's cock, tugged on it, squeezed it; rubbed the head until it was hard again. Mason moved around to Owen's head, putting his cock to the boy's lips.
"Suck" was all he said as his cock was engulfed in the boy's mouth, the head sucked on, tongued, as Owen moved his head as much as he could. When Mason was hard, his cock standing out straight, he pulled back, unlocked the stockade and pulled Owen up in a sitting position. He unfastened the chains from the cuffs on Owen's ankles and helped him stand up. Owen was staggering on his feet, the wax breaking off, his cock sticking out hard, as Mason led him to the sling. He pushed him back on it. He wanted to fuck the boy, was impatient with him for some reason; just wanted to bury his cock in the boy's ass. Owen leaned back and held his legs up against the chain, allowing Mason to secure them. He held his arms up and allowed Mason to tie them off, securing him fully in the sling. Owen had never been in such a position, so stretched out, so open.
Mason brought out a small dildo, drizzled lube down Owen's cock, over his balls and down his upturned exposed ass, letting it run down his crack. He rubbed the dildo over Owen's ass, smearing lube up and down, smearing it everywhere. He probed Owen's opening, pushed against it until the dildo slid in, sinking to the base. Mason worked it around, stretching the opening, loosening him up. Then it was a larger one, one to penetrate deeper, probe so deep Owen wondered how big the thing was, then Mason grabbed another one, one that was thick, ribbed, one that would stretch his hole open even further. The penetration was slow, the tightness of Owen's hole fighting the intrusion; it made Owen cry out, made him shake, quiver at the penetration, his hips rising up, his legs spreading out as much as he could spread them. But he didn't use the safe work; he took it, let it stretch him open; felt himself get hot, even having sweat form on his skin.
Mason knew he was ready, ready to take his cock, to take a fuck. He pulled the dildo out, dropping it on the floor, and moved up pushing his cock at Owen's hole, spearing him in one long lunge, pushing all the way in, feeling Owen's hot insides envelope his cock. Owen grunted and cried out "Fuck", his back arching up as Mason's cock sank into him. Mason began to fuck, strong solid thrusts, pushing and pulling his cock through Owen's opening, feeling the tight ring grip his cock as it moved back and forth through it. Mason's hips found their rhythm, that ancient move, that primitive desire, to fuck. He worked up a faster and faster pace, feeling the sweat glaze his skin, a heat building up. He grabbed Owen by the bars in his nipples, tugging them, giving them a twist, feeling Owen's hole clamp down with the pain, and the pleasure. He took Owen's cock roughly, jacking it with a tight grip, feeling it swell, harden up more. Owen was already close, ready to pop.
Mason's pace was frantic, swift, as he hammered away at Owen. He wouldn't last much longer, and didn't care. He wanted to paint Owen's insides, pump his load into him.
"You want my load, boy?" More a taunt than a question.
"Yes sir" the shaky quivering reply came, barely audible over the slapping sound of their bodies coming together. Mason shifted his position, hit places inside Owen that would make him see stars. In only a few rough thrust by Mason, Owen shot off; his cum landing in his own face, ropes of it flying across his chest, the rest slinging off the head of his cock as Mason continued to jack it, painfully so, pumping it dry.
"Oh fuck...fuck me...harder" the previously quiet boy cried out in a hoarse sounding voice. Mason pushed himself knowing he was close, felt his cock swell up harder, the need right there, on the edge. He came, hard, blasting off inside Owen, thrusting his cock through his load, slicking it up, feeling the warmth of it. He realized when he finally stopped sweat was running down his body. He was exhausted, as he pulled out and stepped back, admiring the sweating, heaving body in his sling. Owen's hole, still open, drooled out some of his load and he watched it run down the crack of his ass. Mason then left Owen there, naked, fucked, still heaving for breath as he left the room.
Owen had to lay there for what seemed like a long time, naked, exposed; he could even feel cum cool and turn runny across his torso and down his ass. When he heard the door open he leaned up and saw Mason come back in, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, carrying his clothes. He laid them on the platform and released Owen from the sling.
"That is enough for tonight."
Mason enjoyed his session with Owen but it wasn't exactly what he was looking for in someone, a man to control. Saturday would be his second session. The guy was closer to Mason's age, thirty one to his thirty three and he seemed to be someone you wouldn't expect to want this scene, to want to be made submissive, and that made it better for Mason, more exciting. After Owen left he went to his study and pulled up Vince's information once again. There was the usual stats such as five eleven, one seventy five, fair skin and blonde, saying it was Russian ancestor's genes showing up. He was an accountant at one of the big banks, a job he said he enjoyed but hated the atmosphere around it, the ultra-conservative nature of most of the people. This was something to let him release the tension, to let go, to submit to someone and let them have the control. Mason looked forward to Saturday.
Owen left feeling more confused than before, unsure what he wanted, wondering if a girl could ever bring him the pleasure he just had, the mixture of pain and pleasure pushing him, sometimes scaring him by making him do things he didn't think he could do. He sucked a man's dick. He let the man fuck him; roughly, crudely. No kissing, no cuddling, just slammed his dick into his ass and fucked the shit out of him. And he liked it.
Saturday started out a beautiful day, almost cloudless, but around lunch a front began to blow through and it changed drastically. The sky became cloudy, dark, and soon the storm clouds rolled in and the rains started. By the time Vince was to arrive the rains had slowed, but the sky was still menacing, dark. Mason opened his door allowing Vince entry, seeing he was dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt. They got to know each other over a drink and when Mason was ready to begin he told Vince he could visit the bathroom if he needed. Vince was in the bathroom for a few minutes and when he came out he was in his briefs and t-shirt. Mason led him to the play room, opening the door to the dimly lit interior, the candles burning along the wall shelf putting the smell of hot wax in the air. The stockade was propped open, waiting. Mason nodded his head toward it, indicating Vince was to move to it. Soon Vince was locked into the stockade. Mason pulled out a strip of black cloth and blindfolded him. Finally he cuffed each ankle and chained them to the corners of the platform, pulling his legs apart. Vince laid there, waiting, his briefs starting to bulge; his cock starting to harden. Mason left the room, leaving Vince lying there, giving him time to wonder what he'd do, how far he'd push him, test his resolve, see if he was worthy.
Mason stripped in his bedroom and put his boots back on, then lay on his bed, just relaxing thinking about Vince in the play room, wondering if this was going to be better for him than last Wednesday, some connection made. His cock began to respond to his thoughts and soon he was slowly stroking it, making it hard. Time to start, he thought as he jumped up and headed to his play room. The room was much warmer than the rest of the house, the whole shelf of candles adding their own heat. He went to the head of the platform and saw how Vince knew he was there, waiting, listening to his approach. Mason came up close, held his cock over Vince's face, close enough for him to capture his scent, the smell of him. Then he rubbed his cock over Vince's face, ran the head of it over his lips, watched them part, Vince's tongue snake out; hungry for his cock. Mason ran the head over Vince's tongue, felt the wet slickness of it; then he pushed into his mouth. Slid his cock across Vince's tongue, pushed to his throat, working his way onward, till his pubes were pressed into Vince's chin, his balls smothering Vince's nose and his face turning red. Mason moved back; then began a slow fuck rhythm, working his hips in that natural way, working his cock in Vince's mouth, pushing into his throat; a slow unyielding face fuck. He watched Vince, how he was responding, how his breathing was shallow, rough, as he was taking Mason's cock. The feel of Vince mouth and throat, their wet warmth, soon had Mason on edge, his cock so hard, achingly so, that he had to stop, pull back and let the two of them catch their breath.
Mason retrieved a few items from the cabinet, moved to the platform climbed up on Vince, sitting on him, letting him feel the weight of his body. He opened a small knife and cut the neck of Vince's t-shirt and ripped it down the middle. He cut the sleeves, and roughly ripped and jerked it off Vince. He pinched Vince's nipples, twisted them, leaned down and bit them, tugging on them with his teeth, feeling Vince rise up, holding his breath. Sitting up he began to lightly slap Vince's stomach, hand held flat, smacking his skin, over and over, until it turned red, until Vince was breathing hard, squirming underneath him. Mason put nipple clamps on each nipple, clamps connected by a chain, which he pulled on, tugging on each one simultaneously as Vince rose as much as he could in the stockade, his chest arced up, holding his breath, a moan escaping from him. Mason slid back, sitting on Vince's thighs, seeing how Vince's briefs were tented up, his cock hard, a wet spot at the head. Mason rubbed it roughly through the fabric, felt it flex in his grip. He took the knife and cut the waist band of the briefs and began to ripe them apart, jerking them upward, violently tugging them from Vince's body. Vince's hard cock flopped out, arched up over his stomach, the head shiny and wet. Mason got up and stuffed the briefs in Vince's mouth and went to his shelf. He grabbed two of the largest candles, ones that would have a lot of hot melted wax pooled deep in their cavities. Vince seemed to sense what was coming, his legs moving against their restraints, his breathing getting faster. Mason dripped a few drops on Vince's nipples, each one receiving just enough to cover them, mixing the pain of the clamps with the pain of the hot wax. He drizzled the wax down the middle of his chest, an almost solid line all the way down to his navel, letting the hot wax pool in it. Vince's torso arced up, straining against the stockade and restraints. His cock stayed hard and a drool of pre-cum fell from the head. Mason took Vince's balls, stretched them tight in their sac and drizzled wax over them, covering them, warming them up; watching them get redder. Vine was shaking, moaning into his gag. Mason ran a line of wax along his cock watching it flex up and down, jerk frantically as the hot liquid hit it and ran around its shaft. Mason then poured the hot liquid over the head, a lot of it at once, covering it completely. Vince thrashed around, his cock jerked up and down, so much so the wax, once cooled and hardened, broke off. Mason grabbed another candle and ran a line down Vince's right arm, then his left, letting it run around each, making Vince pull against the stockade. He dripped some at his neck just below the stockade; then did another run down his chest, across his stomach and around his balls, pouring enough for it to run down below his balls, run a line down his ass, over his hole. Vince moaned loudly into his gag. Mason wanted to hear if he said anything, wanted to know his real response, so he removed the gag.
"You want me to stop?" he asked Vince.
"No sir" he replied, loudly, as if responding to a command.
Mason moved back and picked up a couple of fasteners and a spreader bar he had made from pipe. He hooked Vince's ankles to the bar, unhooked them from the platform and pulled Vince's legs up and over, pulling them up to the stockade, and hooked the bar to some clamps on it. He had Vince doubled up, his ass turned up and open. He knew Vince expected ass play, expected Mason to open up his hole, to penetrate him with his fingers, or a dildo or his cock, but that could wait. Vince picked up another candle and he hovered it over Vince's ass a moment, letting Vince's anticipation build, let him wonder what was next. Then he slowly tilted the candle, watched the hot liquid shift to the edge, hesitate just a moment before spilling over the rim, and drip down on Vince's ass. One cheek then the other the hot liquid dripped down on, splashed over, ran down underneath along his lower back, ran back up toward his balls and cock. Mason ran a line of hot liquid along the back of Vince's thighs, letting it pool and harden in the hair that grew there. He then let a line run down the cleft of his ass, let it pool and then run down. He watched the trembling and shacking in Vince's body, the way he struggled to shift away from the hot liquid. Vince cried out, guttural sounds, responding to the pain, but he didn't ask him to stop, didn't say no.
Mason set the candle back and got a pair of black gloves. He wanted to open him up, stretch his hole until it gapped open, and he wanted to do it not with some dildo but with his fingers. He wanted to feel the ring of his opening loosen up, stretch with his ministrations. He lubed his gloved hands up and then began to rub Vince's ass, run his fingers down along the cleft, run his fingers over the opening. He probed it, pushed against it, felt its tightness; then he penetrated, pushed a finger into Vince, all the way in. Mason twisted it around, fucked it through the tight ring of the opening. Then he put in two fingers, working them in Vince's insides, stretching him open a little more. Mason was having trouble containing himself. He wanted to get up and spear him, shove his cock into his tight little hole, ram it all the way in him, hear him cry out as he took it. But he held back, instead putting the third finger into Vince, working them around. He pulled out and then with both hands, he pushed two fingers of each into Vince, felt how tight he remained, felt his opening fight the additional finger, slowly stretch to accept them. He worked them around, and when he felt Vince's hole loosen up, relax to their invasion, he pulled them apart, worked them in opposite directions, stretching open Vince until he could see into him, see where his cock would soon be lodged.
Stripping off the gloves, Mason moved into position, put his cock to Vince's hole and rubbed it, felt the head of his cock push against Vince.
"Do you want it easy, or hard?" He asked Vince.
"Hard" Vince whispered.
Mason shoved into Vince, pushed his cock all the way into him; slammed his hips against his ass. Vince grunted, and Mason could see his skin quiver, his muscles tighten. Mason began to fuck, to pull back and shove back in; to pump his cock through the heat of Vince's insides. He built up a furious pace, hammering his cock through the loose opening, thrusting deep into Vince, packing his insides with his cock. Vince grunted on each downward thrust, and then he got vocal, began to beg Mason to fuck him, fuck him harder. Sweat began to bead up on Mason, to run from his hair, to trickle down his sides; the room seemed like a sauna it was so hot to Mason. He didn't slow, he kept up his brutal pace, working his hips in that primitive ancient motion, the thrusting arc, punishingly he fucked the hole beneath him, made it his, used it. He was getting close, his cock felt so hard it ached. He shoved in deep and came, and he kept pumping his hips, kept pumping wad after wad into the Vince, pushing it deeply into him, then working his cock through it, smearing Vince's insides with his hot seed.
When Mason was spent, he pulled out and went around to Vince's head and wiped his cock off on his face. Mason then unhooked Vince's legs and the stockade. Soon Vince was free, covered in wax, his cock still hard.
"On your knees."
Vince dropped down on his knees.
"Jerk off; I want to see you cum."
Vince took his hard cock in hand, and began to stroke it. He was still blindfolded, and being naked, on his knees, his ass feeling like it was still gaping open, he felt wicked, lewd, nasty. He stroked his cock hard, griped tight in his fist, working himself quickly to his release. He sensed Mason close as he jerked himself off. Mason was in front of him, squatted down, hand held under Vince's cock, waiting to capture his load. Vince came, his hips jerking back and forth, as he shot a huge load out, the first arcing over Mason's hand. Mason caught the rest of it, watched the large pool of it build up in his hand as Vince milked his cock of its entire load. When Vince was spent and sat back on his heels, Mason ran this hand over Vince's face, telling him to lick it clean. Vince stuck out his tongue, capturing a lot of his own load on his tongue, felt it pool on top of it; then drew it into his mouth, savoring his own taste. What he didn't capture on his tongue Mason smeared over his face.
Then he sensed Mason pull away, the door open and he was alone, on his knees, still breathing hard, exhausted, spent. He'd stay that way for several minutes, waiting, patiently, knowing he was suppose to stay put. He heard Mason return, the door close and then the blindfold being removed. Even in the dim light, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to being able to see again. Mason was dressed, and he had set his own clothes on the floor in front of him.
"I'm done" was all Mason said as he left the room. Vince dressed, not bothering to remove the wax, not bothering to try to wipe off the cum drying on his skin, or the lube and cum on his ass. He put on his jeans, sweatshirt and his shoes. In the living room Mason was sitting on his sofa, waiting.
"Thanks for letting me come over. I...I hope you contact me again."
Mason just looked at Vince, not saying anything for a moment, then he smiled ever so slightly, just a small upturn of his lips, then he nodded toward the door. Vince knew he was being dismissed.
On the ride home, as he thought about the evening, the way Mason had used him and his cock got hard again, strained against his jeans. He couldn't help it; he had to get off again. He opened up his jeans as he drove and began to stroke his hard cock. It wouldn't take long and he'd have cum spraying back on him, dribbling down his hand, making another mess. He knew it'd take a long time to get cleaned up when he got home. But it was worth it.