Page 60 of A Long Con

“A really athletic guy. He doubled over in pain holding onto his thigh. It was plain he had a cramp and those can wreak havoc if you don’t handle them right. As you know.”

“As I know,” I echoed. “Potassium.”

“Anyway, we laid him on his back on a bench. I was the one chosen to massage out the cramp in the front of his thigh—”

“His quadriceps.” Berkeley’s dick twitched under the fabric. He stepped back to observe his handiwork. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I needed to stretch and massage the muscle, and these three other guys kneeled about the bench, holding down the victim.”

Berkeley flipped two lengths of rope over my shoulders and cinched them under the chest and rib bindings. I felt like a gladiator.

“Then what?” I asked. I realized I was fearful. I am fearful.

“I began to notice. His penis inside the jock was swelling. The more I massaged and stretched the quadriceps, the stiffer his penis got. His balls were swelling every time my fingertips swept near his crotch. And everyone standing around noticed it, too. The harder and longer Sam’s dick got, the longer their penises got, too.”

Berkeley brushed his mouth against my throat.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered.

“That’s what the guys said.”

“Oh, you fucking moke.” I was only halfway mad, halfway kidding. Every woman I’d been with had raced through foreplay to get to the good stuff, the money shot, slamming their hips against me until they came. Or pretended to, anyway. But Berkeley was biding his time, using patient touches and words. Now he straddled me from behind on the mattress, my prick squirting precome when he breathed against my neck. That fucking idiot Sam on the bench, his cock engorging the pouch of his jock. The scene had moved from a few teammates helping out a fellow to a tense homoerotic fantasy that had my cock spurting.

My mouth watered when I felt Berkeley kneading his own erect prick. When he skimmed his mouth against my neck and said, “That’s what the guys said,” I nearly lost it. Straightening my spine, I put on an authoritative persona. “Keep going. What did you do then?”

Berkeley continued threading the rope between, above, and under my pecs. With each knot that he wove he would pause and press his hands to my chest as though warming the rope, melding it to me. He rocked me back and forth as he applied the pressure points.

“I could tell Sam’s cramp had eased, but this guy was sprawled there, his arms and other foot touching the concrete floor, panting, and we could see it wasn’t from the pain anymore. And everyone else’s dicks were getting hard watching his big schlong get stiffer and fill the jock. I started sweeping my hand closer and closer to his full ballsac as I massaged. The guys started saying things to me like ‘Go ahead, Sterling, jack him’ and ‘take his dick out, Sterling.’ I kept sweeping my hand closer and closer until finally I was molding his big, throbbing ball sac full in my palm. One guy couldn’t take it anymore, and he whipped out his dick and started to jack off right on top of Sam.” He seemed to have finished wrapping my torso, and he rocked me like a cradle.

I asked, “What was Sam doing? Was he watching?”

“He was watching, all right. He raised himself on his elbow just so he could watch the guy wanking off all over him.” Apparently the idea of the locker room got to Berkeley, too, for he sat upright and stripped off his briefs.

He was amazing—a banging hot specimen of maleness, with just the right amount of hair sprinkled across that amazing chest. His six-pack was so defined he looked airbrushed. The cruelly sensual leer on his face let me know he took pride in his physique and reveled in my appreciation. He leaned back on one elbow and continued squeezing his own penis through the fabric, but now his belt buckle was undone, along with the top button of his jeans.

“What did you do? Did you just watch?” I really hoped Berkeley didn’t just watch.

“Of course not,” he whispered into my ear. His erection pulsed against my bound hands, and each syllable he spoke feathered my skin, sending shivers down my arms. “I slid my hand under the waistband of his jock and took out his dick.”

With that, Berkeley stood on a stool in front of me, fussing with something overhead. The pulley? I could only hope or fear, and I was unfamiliar with fear.

“Then what happened?” I prompted.

“You’ll see,” Berkeley teased, and my entire body was lifted like a puppet.

I tried not to gasp as he hoisted me up like some kind of stage rigging. He’d made an inventive knot somewhere between my shoulder blades and had thrown the rope over the ceiling pulley. Briefly, flashes of the accident that had totaled my brain overcame me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. But I knew how to do this, how to be lifted on high. I assisted by standing on the floor under my own steam, but I was dangling from the ceiling like a marionette.

Berkeley stood back to admire his work. “That’s nice, baby,” he croaked. “I’ve still got it.” He turned me with a hand on my butt as I dangled so he could see me from every angle. “You’re a fresh beauty, Royal.”

“Are you going to finish your story? What did you do with Sam’s penis in your hand?”

Berkeley stood so close to me his hard-on tapped against mine. He laid a big sucking kiss to the side of my throat. “I jacked him off.”

Why was I light-headed? My arms weren’t above my head and I was barely standing on my toes. “You jacked him off,” I whispered, “while the other guy jacked off on him.”

“God, yeah.” Berkeley enhanced the story by pumping his own prick even faster. “Hell, yeah. Why not? What do you think guys do in locker rooms when no women are present and they’re horny as hell? The guy was crying out for release. I gave it to him.”

“And the other two guys. Tell me what they did. Ah!” I hissed in air when the tip of his forefinger touched the hole of my wet glans. I was shocked that my corona felt fatter, as his fingers coaxed unheard-of sensations from me. Just a few simple swipes of his fingertips elicited unbearable pleasure. It must’ve been the pressure brought to bear on certain points by hanging.

“Bukkake,” Berkeley murmured, and proceeded to swipe the precome down my shaft. “All three guys took out their dicks, saying things like ‘let’s drown him in cum,’ and ‘let’s jerk off all over his fucking face.’”