Ben is Buffalo Bound

I was thoroughly pissed off! I'd left a friend's house in Albany early one Saturday morning in July of 1977, only to be backed up for hours by a major accident on the New York State Thruway. What should have been a four-hour drive to Buffalo had so far taken more than seven hours. To add to my misery, the temperature was up in the muggy nineties and the air conditioning in my old VW Beetle had chosen this very day to give up the ghost.

I was hot, sweaty, worn out and stressed and now, having reached the outskirts of Buffalo, I faced the prospect of the line-up at the Canadian border and two more hours of driving before getting home to Toronto. It was three in the afternoon, which meant I wouldn't get home till after six, having spent the whole day sitting in a steamy car!

That got me thinking about Morgan's steam bath on Main Street in Buffalo. I'd visited it a few times in the past and knew that even though it had seen better days, it still attracted some hot men and particularly the kind of mature men, both white and black, that I loved to serve.

I absent mindedly rubbed my dick through my shorts as I drove along the Thruway, while thinking about two guys in particular. One was a masterful older black man named Melvin, a well-built stud in every respect, who'd spent an evening bouncing me up and down on his cock like a rag doll, while the other was a stern, grey-haired white daddy who'd tied me up and tortured my tits before fucking my skinny ass.

Three in the afternoon is a really bad time to find interesting playmates at a bath house, even on a Saturday, but I didn't care. I was desperate for a long cooling shower and for somewhere to lie down and relax my stressed-out body. Anything or anyone else would be a bonus. I made up my mind, turned off the Thruway and headed to Main Street.

As I locked up my old Beetle in the lot behind Morgan's, I noticed a young guy getting out of his truck and heading in the same direction as me. At first glance I was impressed; he was a handsome, sturdy bear of a guy in Doc Marten boots and camouflage shorts, with a wife-beater clinging to his sweaty chest. I liked the look of his sturdy body, his muscular arms and hairy legs, his close-cropped hair and dark-bearded face and the black chest hair sprouting out from under that skimpy shirt.

He was a sexy looking guy, with just one flaw as far as I was concerned. He was the same age as me, in his mid-twenties and in those days, I was totally fixated on serving older, more mature, dominating men. When I looked at this guy, my first thought was how hot he would be in twenty years' time!

He grinned and nodded at me, making me realise he'd seen me leering at him across the parking lot. That got me so embarrassed that I blushed and quickly turned away, and almost ran to Morgan's entrance. He followed me up the stairs to the bathhouse, which was situated on the second floor of its building and stood close enough to hear me ask the desk clerk for a room next to the showers. After I'd been buzzed in and was picking up my towel and room key, I heard the clerk turn and greet him like an old friend.

"Hey Steve, it's real quiet here today, hardly anyone around. I figure its so bloody hot outside that nobody can even stand the walk from their house to the car to get here. You can pick any room you want."

I hurried away before hearing what room "Steve" had chosen and found that the clerk wasn't exaggerating. The place was a morgue; almost every room door was closed, the TV room was empty and there wasn't a soul to be seen along the corridors. But then, just as I was nearing my room, I was pleasantly surprised to see the very same grey-haired white Daddy I'd been thinking about in the car. I perked right up, especially when he recognised me, though he couldn't remember my name.

"Hey, I remember you, it's Sam, right?"

I smiled and replied, "It's Ben, actually."

Since he was wearing clothes, he must have been either coming or going, but before I could ask which it was, he reached out to grab hold of my nipples through my t-shirt and give them a vicious twist. When I responded by moaning with excitement, he grinned and chuckled.

"I might have forgot your name, buddy, but I remember you loved having these big suckers worked."

He kept twisting them while leaning into me and pushing me back against the wall. Enjoying what he was doing, I stood still and let him manhandle me, only to be embarrassed to see "Steve' walking by and leering at me, just as the mature hunk was saying,

"Hey bad luck for you, boy! If you'd been here a few minutes ago I would have had a bladder-full of beer piss for you, but it just got flushed down the toilet. Some vanilla guy gave me a blow job and then I went and dozed off and now I'm running late. See you next time, OK kid?"

With that, he strode off, leaving me staring sadly at his back until he disappeared round the corner. I found my room, peeled off my sweaty clothes, ran across to the showers and stood under the water for a long time, washing all the sweaty crud of the day off me and enjoying the feeling of hot water massaging my tired muscles.

While standing there, I tried to forget my disappointment at missing out on the hot Daddy and think instead about what the rest of the day might bring. That got me aroused and since I was alone in the bathroom, I took the opportunity to push a couple of soapy fingers up my ass and jerk my dick. That made me feel so good that I got carried away and only just managed to stop myself from cumming all over the floor.

Telling myself to calm down, I dried off and walked out of the bathroom, carrying my wet towel in my hand, intending to get a quick disco nap until the place got busy. But as I turned towards my room, I was met by a vision in black leather leaning against my door. The guy was wearing Doc Marten boots and tight leather shorts, with a leather harness decorating his torso and a black leather hood covering half his face. The stocky body was unmistakeable; it was Steve from the parking lot. I'd thought he was hot when I cruised him outside, but in leather he was mesmerising. I stopped in front of him and waited in silence for him to speak.

"That old guy called you a piss-drinking leather boy. Is that right?"

"Yea, I love it. And it looks like you're into leather. You look hot in it, man."

""Yea, well. You kept me waiting for fifteen goddam minutes while you played with yourself in the showers, so you'd better be worth it.'

We stared at each other for a few moments until he looked down and grinned. I followed his gaze down and saw my cock was already stiff and when I looked back up, he reached across to tweak my nipples.

Given that he'd seen "Piss-Daddy" doing the exact same thing, this came as no surprise, and I responded by hissing with pleasure and obediently crossing my wrists behind my back. That encouraged him to squeeze harder and harder until he started pulling down on them, signalling that he wanted me to sink to my knees.

This guy was certainly a big change from the older men I normally played with, the kind who liked to dominate a younger man like myself. In fact, it had been a while since I'd made out with a guy this close to my own age. But why be picky? Morgan's was all but empty, so the choice was between this hot leather man and Miss Palm! Plus, he'd apparently liked the look of me enough to ask his pal to book the room next to mine and had been waiting for me! I told myself to get with the programme!

Looking up at the hot body hovering over me, I began to think (in the weird way that stuff will pop into your head at the oddest times) about all that stuff from biology class about ectomorph, endomorph, and mesomorph body types! I couldn't remember which was which, but I knew that whatever one I was, he was the complete opposite!

I was a slim, six-footer weighing about a hundred and sixty pounds in those days. I'd joined a gym the year before and had spent hours trying to put some muscle on my skinny arms and legs and it had taken all that time just to show a little definition. He on the other hand, had clearly never had to worry about looking skinny or lacking muscle. He stood a couple of inches shorter than me, but his stocky body with its barrel chest, thick trunk, big arms, and bigger legs, dwarfed mine.

I figured that the only body parts of mine bigger than his were my ass and my nipples. I'd got compliments on the size of my fat, fuckable bum and my tits were a prominent feature that guys had pulled and twisted so much over the years that they now stuck out like a pair of mini cocks on my hairless chest. By contrast his little nubs were almost invisible in a forest of chest hair. Liking what I saw and eager to find what was hiding under his leather shorts, I looked up into his eyes and begged him,

"Hey, sexy, can I suck your cock, please??"

That's all I got to say before he stuffed the fingers of his right hand into my mouth and held them there, staring into my eyes. After a while he withdrew them, shook his head, and whispered,

"No talking, not another word, OK? Just stay on your knees and follow me."

Since I'd always hated those chatty guys who give a running commentary on everything that's happening or what they want to happen, I was more than happy to keep my mouth closed. When I nodded my head in agreement, he grabbed me by the back of the head, pushed it into his crotch and rubbed my face all over the front of his leather shorts, giving me a good dose of leather smell. Keeping his hand on the back of my head, he guided me on my knees into his room and once he'd shut the door, posed a question.

"You ready to start? You OK down there? If you're not into this, tell me now before we waste our time."

"Yes, please, I'm ready."

"Good, then start that tongue working."

"Yes, sir."

Pulling me to my feet, he raised his right arm above his head, exposing a wet, hairy armpit stinking of newly dried sweat. If this was some sort of test, I knew I'd ace it; I jerked my head forward, and immediately began licking away at the wet, smelly heart of his pit.

I adore the scent and taste of male musk and even if I hadn't known it already, it was obvious that he hadn't been near the showers since getting out of his truck, since I was instantly rewarded with a dose of testosterone-filled masculine aroma. Once I'd cleaned the first one, he switched arms and pushed my eager mouth into the other, getting my face soaking wet, and filling my mouth with his essence. Then, just as before, he pulled on my nipples to get me down to my knees. This time, as I was going down, I took a chance and swiped my wet tongue across the front of his shorts, but rather than letting me suck him, he pushed me all the way to the floor and gave me another task.

"Get on those fucking boots, man, clean 'em up, make 'em shine."

I swiped my tongue across his Doc Martens, adding the distinct taste of polish to the sexy taste of sweaty armpits. After spending a long time thoroughly polishing both boots with my tongue, I moved up to lick the salty sweat from off his calves. When he didn't stop me, I carried on up and did a good enough job on his big muscular thighs that he rewarded me by unbuttoning his shorts and letting his dick pop out, already hard and dripping.

With it out in the open, it became obvious what was the most important physical difference between him and me. My decent-sized uncut dick didn't stack up to the big, circumcised schlong that flopped out of his shorts. He had me beat; his was two inches longer and half as thick again! For a moment or two I was transfixed by it, licking my lips, and staring open-mouthed as it bobbed up and down in front of my face. Seeing my hesitation and determined to prove he was the boss, he grabbed me by the ears and pulled me onto it, almost choking me in the process.

I pulled myself together and concentrated; starting a constant rhythm of impaling my throat on his big stiff thing then pulling out to lick his balls or soak my face with his precum and my saliva. I fell into a state of helpless lust, which only got deeper when he opened a bottle of poppers. I love poppers and his were powerful: when he saw me taking long, deep breaths he kept the bottle continuously under my nose; only removing it occasionally to take a few snorts himself.

I fell into such a popper haze that I closed my eyes and entered a world of my own, where my sole responsibility was keeping my throat open to take his big dick. I was so far gone that I didn't realise he was talking to me until I felt a heavy slap across my cheek. Once he had my attention, he put his hand under my chin to lift my head up, looked me in the eye and said,

"You still OK with this cock-sucker? Cos, there's a bag of toys here that I want to use on you. If you don't want to be tied up and fucked and have your arse beaten, then say so, 'cos that's what I want to do. You want that?"

Of course, I did, and he was right. I wanted more than just cock sucking. I'm a kinky bondage freak and the thought of this stud tying me up and working me over with that big dick of his was beyond fabulous; I didn't hesitate.

"Absolutely yes, yes, anything you want. Tie me up and do what you like, man, I love it."

"That's what I figured. This place is full of vanilla wimps who run a mile at the sight of a pair of cuffs, so I don't get my kind of action as often as I like. But I could tell you were a bottom boy when you cruised me in the parking lot, and when I heard that guy call you a piss-drinking tit-queen, I knew I was in for some real fun."

I knew what he meant. Buffalo was a smallish city with a small gay population and few out-of-towners likely to visit this slightly run-down bathhouse. So, big dick or not, he'd probably run out of guys willing to play his way. I on the other hand was new meat in town and clearly submissive; no wonder he was eager to try me out!

With that settled, he got busy with the poppers bottle and returned his dick to its rightful place down my throat. He was turning me on so much that I actually began to worry about a spontaneous orgasm and was relieved when he pushed my mouth off his dick with the palm of his hand. He turned to the bed and got busy sorting through the contents of his gym bag, leaving me to fall back on my haunches, wondering what was coming next, while staring at my cock, bobbing up and down in pre-orgasmic ecstasy. Those few moments of relaxation ended once he'd finished sorting out his bag of tricks and he turned to face me.

"OK, this is where the party gets started. Up on your feet, subby!"

Once I got to my feet, he picked a leather arm binder off the bed, clipped its collar round my neck and cuffed my wrists halfway up my back, followed up with a pair of ankle cuffs linked by a two-foot chain, and a pair of heavy-duty tit clamps on my nipples, finishing off with a penis gag. He buckled it tight behind my head, filling my mouth and making intelligible speech impossible. From then on, the only noises coming out of my mouth were meaningless gurgles.

My head was spinning; I'd been rendered completely helpless in minutes by this young bear; though the combination of his big dick and my submissive nature had pretty much guaranteed I'd offer no resistance. However, I did get a shock when he pulled a hood down over my head. This was new to me; I'd been tied up plenty of times but never hooded before. Now my entire head was covered in heavy black leather, with just three small openings at the eyes, the nose, and my gagged mouth.

Having rendered me naked, bound, gagged, and hooded, he clipped a leash to the collar around my neck, slapped me hard on the rump and pulled me out into the corridor. At first, I was glad that there was no one around to see him dragging me along in such a state, though I changed my mind when I caught sight of my reflection in a wall mirror. At first, I almost didn't recognize the strange, hooded body in the mirror, but then I was excited to see how I'd been turned into a faceless, anonymous, shameless thing.

With him guiding me along, step by shackled step, we eventually ended up back at the front office, where he showed me off to his friend Sammy on the desk, who quickly put two and two together.

"Hey, that's the guy from the next room, right? I guess you were right about him; he must be crazy, letting you lock him up like that. Hey man, I did you a favour, so how about doing one for me in return? You drag this punk here and wave his hard-on in my face when you know I've been stuck here for eight boring hours with nothing to do. Be fair, man, let me at him. Keep an eye out for me and tap on the window if you see anyone coming up the stairs. You owe me, Steve, please!"

Steve nodded and went to stand watch while Sammy tugged me into the office by the leash and backed me up into a corner, out of sight of nosy parkers. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he instantly proved to be a master cock sucker. It felt good to have my own cock worshipped for once, since I was normally the one on my knees doing the work.

He licked my stretched-out balls, then went up and down the length of my cock before swallowing its entire length. He was so skilled, and I was already so excited by all that had happened since arriving at Morgan's that he soon had me very close to cumming. Desperate to hold out, and not wanting to disappoint Steve, I tried to edge away, but Sammy gripped my hips and redoubled his efforts. Fortunately, just when it felt as if the sperm was about to rush up my tubes, we heard Steve tap on the office window glass and Sammy was forced to jump to his feet and get ready for the new customer.

As it happened, that guy ended up being just the first in a steady stream of clients keeping kept Sammy busy. With no chance of getting back to me, he was forced to take advantage of a quiet moment between customers to hand me back to Steve. The latter used the leash to pull me along the corridor, making me an object of interest to what was becoming a full house. Some looked disgusted or pretended to be shocked, while others came forward to fondle my dick or slap my bum or ask Steve to be let in on the fun. A couple of guys followed us all the way down the hallway, clearly hoping to be included or wanting to watch, but sadly for them, Steve closed the door firmly, then turned to jerk downwards on the leash, signalling me to fall to my knees.

"OK, slut-face, Enough time-wasting. You're getting dicked!"

I sat on the floor with my back against the bed, watching him strip off the half-hood, the leather shorts, the chest harness, and the boots, enjoying my first full look at his impressive naked body. I got only a moment to savour the view before he squatted down in front of me and began to pull on the tit clamps, slap my chest, stomach, and thighs, twist my balls, and jerk my already over-excited dick.

Sniggering at my excited moaning, he pulled me to my feet, turned me around and dumped me on my stomach on the bed. Pulling my legs apart as far as the shackles would allow, he let a trickle of cold lube run down my ass crack, then began loosening me up with his fingers. The first one popped in easily enough but when he tried a second, my ass muscles involuntarily seized up and wouldn't let him in. I'd got so tense and over-excited and tense that I was acting like a silly virgin getting it for the first time. Seeing that something was going wrong, Steve calmly rolled me over onto my back, put his hands on my chest and stared into my eyes, quieting my panicky gurgling.

"Calm down, man, for Christ's sake. We both know you've wanted this since you cruised me in the parking lot. You're going to take it and you're going to love it. I'll try not to hurt you too much, but if you don't relax, you'll be sorry."

My panicky feelings subsided as quickly as they'd appeared and I lay back quietly, staring longingly up at him while he slapped my balls with one hand and tugged roughly on my dick with the other. He got me more and more excited and closer and closer to the edge, until he shocked me by suddenly walking out of the room.