Uh... by fishboy  this is a stupid PWP that emerged after I had a bit too much to drink. and smoke. and whatever. enjoy. oh and it's part of blam honey's pic-fic challenge. (it's the pic with the coffee in the background... you know the one) and please don't kill me for the characterisation or the content. :) In my defence i was pissed and the writer's block is killing me! "Uh�" (Yes it's actually called "Uh�" Don't worry it'll become clear after a while.) It was the coffee and the cigarettes I tell you. Boredom was also a contributing factor, not to mention that I hadn't gotten laid in a couple of months. Usually Stef would oblige (the best fuck buddy in the world) but even he was absent. I forget why Stef wasn't there, suffice to say it was all his fault for not having sex with me in my hour of need. Anyway I had risen at a decent hour of the afternoon and had managed to avoid the harsh and cruel sunlight (never a favourite of mine) and had just ground the coffee beans for the first addiction for the day when there was a sharp rapping at my door. When I didn't rush to open it, the pounding got louder. "Red Cross donations!" Hmmm this could be interesting. Dressed in a plain v-necked black shirt and tight black trousers I knew that I looked adorable. Those trousers also showed off my masculinity a bit too much but then I wasn't complaining. As Steve had once said, "Lovely tackle," in a faintly covetous tone that had made me preen then. Actually I was preening now for that matter. I adjusted myself and prepared myself to seduce whatever it was outside my door. Male, female, hell I didn't care as long as it had the requisite orifices. "Red Cross donations!" Again the chirpy very drawly American voice. I flung open the door to be confronted by the vision of an ultimate golden boy. Think of that horny blonde character off `Queer as Folk' and multiply by a zillion times. I was never good at math but by my calculations this boy standing so shyly holding a bucket was it. No, make that IT. "I gave blood to the Red Cross this year and now you guys are at my door again?!!" "Uh�" "You want blood *and* money?" "Uh�" "It's worse than the fucking mafia I tell you!" "Uh�" "You want to come in then?" I asked grabbing the handle of his donations bucket and reeled him in. "Uh�" "You're not very articulate are you? Nevermind you've got a great arse." I pinched his buttock and he yelped loudly. "You still want to come in then?" "You're�Your're Brian Molko!" He got out eventually, but by then I was too captivated by his tight jeans to actually pay any attention to what he was saying. "Of Placebo!" "Yes dear. Now tell me something that I don't know." I shook my head. Americans, always bloody stating the obvious. "Oh, okay." He said shyly. "Great!" I pulled him inside and sat him down on my sofa. "Let me get you a cup of coffee." "But I don't like coffee." "It's good for all that ails you." I patted his head, loving the feel of the silky gold strands against my fingers. I poured some more for myself blissing out from the heavenly smell of premium brazilian roast. Oh, I moaned inside my head. Great coffee, menthol cigarettes, and a beautiful boy, what more can I ask for? Beside sex with the pretty boy, that is. I smirked, I was going to amend the last one soon� I sat back down next to him, my thigh pressed to his. "I thought you were going to get me some coffee�" He began. "Oh was I? I must have forgotten. Anyway is it okay to kiss you so you can taste the coffee so that you can decide whether or not you want some after all?" "Uh sure�" I leaned over and captured his mouth with mine. "What the hell?" My mouth now held what I thought was a rather large piece of gum. "Eeeew." I spat it out so that it stuck to one of my walls. "That was gross! Have the decency to warn someone before they have to experience that!" "Uh sorry�" "Oh never mind. Kiss me again." He followed my order with alacrity. His mouth was as soft as it looked and I nibbled on them in fervour. He didn't protest as I slowly unbuckled his trousers and while still moaning appreciatively got his red cross t-shirt off him. "Can I have your shirt? As a keepsake?" He frowned for a moment looking extremely fuckable (no, I take that back he was fuckable before) and hesitantly murmured, "Uh, sure." "Brilliant!" His hands found my all too visible erection through my practically see through trousers reminding me of Stef's see through caftan. God, that man could be so *gay* sometimes. All thoughts of Stefan's caftan flew out of my head as blonde boy turned to leave. "Don't go!" "Oh, uh, I'm not going. I thought I might get something to tie you to the railing." "Let me get this straight you want to tie *me* to the railing� Why exactly?" "Because you'll look more cute if you were hanging off the railing�" He pointed to the ledge where my coffee making paraphernalia was scattered. And because I like to tie guys up." "Well, okay then." I got up off the sofa and went to look for suitable tying-up material. Hmm, no, no, no. I discarded several things finally settling on the tie that I had worn for a shoot once. Of course, I'd never worn it again I didn't have that many outfits that required a tie after all. Running the slippery material over my nipples I went back to the blonde boy bearing gifts. "Is that all you have?" He looked disappointed like a kitten that had been denied breakfast. "Yes. Now lets get on with it. No more dilly-dallying." "Uh�okay." He grabbed my wrists, stopping to admire them, running a finger over the delicate blue veins. He kissed me then, on the inside of my wrist, sucking ever so softly. He let go and I could see the rose suffused skin clearly the veins more prominent. He did the same with the other one, admiring them with an intensity that was slightly alarming. He took off my shirt wrapping the black tie carefully over my hands, and then pulling me along to the ledge. He tied me up so that I was crouched rather uncomfortably neither sitting nor standing. He kissed me again murmuring into my ear how beautiful, how soft, how feminine I looked tied up like that. Meanwhile I was having serious doubts about my sanity. I had let a stranger into my house, and then stupidly had let him tie me up. Way to go Molko, you get smarter by the day! "Do you have a camera here? I want to take a photo of you like this." "No fucking way." "Please?" "I'll let you take a photo of me after you've fucked me okay?" He gave me a glimmering smile. He didn't bother to reply instead just pulling me into another kiss, tongue roaming freely around my mouth without the desire-killing impedance of chewing gum. One advantage that I could think of about being tied up was that you didn't had to do much sex wise. You just lay there (or hung there in my case) and let the other guy make all the effort. And he was making a lot of effort, first teasing my nipples, then dipping a curious tongue into my bellybutton. He then attacked my armpits, my self control quickly disappearing. (What self control? I thought with my dick most of the time!) I giggled as he kept at my armpits, torn between laughter and arousal. He then proceeded to undo my trousers, pulling them down, which took a lot of patience as they were practically glued to me. "Uh, it's like cling wrap!" I giggled again. After a while he finally managed to free me from my prison, my cock bursting out so violently that I was afraid that I'd take his eye out. He was undeterred by my enthusiastic response happily placing his mouth on my dick, sucking away like a good little trooper. I made encouraging `oh that's good', `oh that's much better', noises thanking providence or whatever that had brought this man (make that boy) to my door on a lonely Saturday afternoon. Soon after that I couldn't spell providence (and kept thinking of the bad American soap of the same name) while I came into blonde boy's receptive mouth. Then came the weird bit, the reason why I'm telling you this story in the first place. He sat down on the ground and proceeded to manipulate me so that my feet were at his crotch. He then cupped my feet in his hands and rubbed his dick in between them, in the process totally freaking me out. For a man who had left a trail of blood and spunk over several continents I had never come across this particular kink before. It felt quite gross, his dick against the soles of my feet. I looked down at him, he had his eyes rolled back obviously lost in the sensation. Somehow I managed to leave my feet in place, after all he had just given me quite a reasonable blow-job. "You can't come on my feet!" I yelled desperately as his moans got more rhythmic. Too late. There was sticky stuff covering my feet. Bugger, the things I do in the name of sex! He untied me so that my poor muscles could have a respite. He hauled me onto his lap, running his fingers through my hair. "What color is it under the black?" He asked curiously examining the strands. "I don't know. No that's not right�I've forgotten actually. I've been dying it for that long." "Now can I take a picture?" "Sure my camera is in my bedroom, second shelf of my bookcase." While he went in search for it, I hurriedly got dressed, wiping my come splattered feet on the carpet and promising myself that I'd get the carpets done very soon. He came back to me leaning fully dressed against the ledge. "I thought�" "Stop thinking it's quite bad for you. Are you going to take the picture or what?" Snap. Now whenever I see that photo of myself against the ledge next to the coffee plunger I'm reminded of blonde guys with foot fetishes. The End. Challenge Home | Archive Home |