Heather's Boys Pt. 01

Thanks to an ex-girlfriend who related this story of her own experiences to me and suggested they might make for good reading on Lit. I have no idea how much of this is true, but I've never known her to indulge in exaggeration or tall-tales so I have no reason to doubt any of it.

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7:30 am. I stumbled into the kitchen on bleary-eyed autopilot, my autonomic system craving the thick black coffee brew and its promise of sweet caffeinated bliss my subconscious evidently detected when I was still in REM sleep. And there was Heather at the Ninja, just pouring herself a fresh cup.

"Morning' hon," she bubbled cheerfully. Look, I love my roommate dearly, but sometimes i hated morning people. And Heather was a morning person and I found myself wanting her to die, just a little bit, just for a little while. I flopped down at the little wooden table and eyed her, standing there in a too-short blue silk robe that exposed the lower curves of her perfectly round ass and the fact that she wasn't wearing any thing else. I glanced unconsciously down her body - she was curvy, a little on the thick side but she was totally comfortable in her body and it complemented her teasing, playful sex-kitten personality perfectly. Her hair was up in a messy bun and I realized she had turned around and was sipping her coffee and casually watching me stare at her.

"Like what you see?" She giggled when my eyes focused on her face and her big boobs jiggled under the flimsy material. I'm not into girls, really, but she oozed sex and it was hard not to feel the erotic energy that naturally filled any room she entered.

"I... uh..." I stuttered unhelpfully. She laughed again and asked, "Hey, sleepy - time to wake up. I asked if you could you do me a real big favor?" I held her gaze silently, not willing to commit to anything this early on a Saturday. "Run back to my bedroom and ask my friend how he wants his coffee?"

I grunted my displeasure at this. "C'mon..." she pleaded "I'm right in the middle of this." I sighed and made a big show of how difficult it was even to get back to my feet right now, then shuffled back across the kitchen, making sure she didn't miss a second of it.

As I passed her, I managed to mumble, "What's his name?"

She paused, thinking. "Mmmm. Matt? Marty?"

I cocked an eyebrow at her, "Really?"

"I don't know... Starts with an 'm'... I think. I doubt he'll care that much. Probably still sleeping."

I sighed again and continued my torturous amble back toward her bedroom, doing my best Eyeore impression. when I reached her door, I didn't break my shuffling stride, doing that half-knock, half-announce-as-you're-opening-the-door-thing.

"Hey, you awake in here? Heather wants to know..."

There were probably supposed to be more words at the end of that sentence, but my thoughts had been completely derailed. Her male friend was there alright. But he wasn't asleep. Rather, he was seated at the head of her bed, back flat up against the headboard, very much awake and with a look of sudden wide-eyed panic that probably matched my own. This was because he was nude, his arms stretched above his head and securely cuffed at the wrists to the high point of the ornate, black wrought iron. Each leg had been pulled back and up as well, swiveling his hips and spreading him completely open, so that I had a view, not only of his very erect - and surprisingly small, I noted - pink penis and the sack of balls that had been forced into some stringy bondage thing to make them bulge red and painfully; but also of his hairless anus, which I now noticed was stretched around a plug or maybe a dildo or something.

It took a second... okay, it took more than a few seconds for the shock to diminish enough that I started noticing details again. He was thin, very pale and skinny. You could see his musculature, but that was because he probably didn't eat more than a few hundred calories a week, and I doubted he was very strong. Shitty punk rock tattoos littered themselves haphazardly across his expanses of pale flesh and as my eyes found his face again, I saw that a very large ball-gag had been stuffed in his mouth, stretching his lips and jaw. His clear blue eyes - quite beautiful, actually, were wide and confused. I allowed my gaze to drift downward again, following the trail of saliva that ran like a small creek over his luscious lips and down his chest, pooling at his belly, just above...

i found myself again staring at his penis. Erect, drooling precum down what length it had, and small. Very small, like maybe my thumb plus a little. He was completely hairless other than the blue mohawk on his head and for a second I found myself tempted to ask him if that was natural, and if not, how did he get such a close shave without those little razor bumps that always plagued me on date nights. I wondered how old he was.

I guess I was there longer than I thought, the two of us staring wordlessly at each other. Myself, a confused and suddenly very awake roommate, and him... a naked slave tied to her bed. There was really no other way to describe it. My reverie was interrupted by Heather's voice behind me.

"See somethin' you like?"

"I... uh... what... he?"

Sensing that she wasn't going to get a coherent thought out of me, she went on.

"Sorry hun. I like to joke a little with my roomies and I figured you could handle it."

"But... I... But... he..."

"Oh him? That's... yeah shit, I don't know. I just call him 'Bitch'."

I followed her gaze back over to him. He was staring at her now, his breathing had picked up and his cock seemed to be twitching and throbbing on its own. I wondered if it was just going to start spontaneously shooting its gooey load right there without any contact. He looked very, very frightened which for some reason, I found wildly arousing. My nipples were hard little pebbles and I could feel a twinge between my legs.

"Yep... I do like my boys to know their place... Now, if you'll excuse me." And with that, she shoved me back out into the hall with a devilish grin and closed the door in my face. Whatever was about to happen to that bound, naked, quivering boy in there, it didn't involve me... Dammit.

Minutes... Maybe hours? later, I sat in the living room, staring blankly at the moving images on the TV screen, uncomprehending. As I munched what should have been cereal, but could just as well have been cat littler for all the attention I was able to give it, I kept seeing it in my head... That naked, bound boy on her bed. The fear in his eyes... so hot... and that penis. I'd never seen one that small in person before. not that I've seen tons of them or anything. Sure, I love good porn as much as the next girl, but I knew that kind of thing wasn't realistic. Still, his was beyond what I was used to. Three inches? Four? Did it even work? I supposed it did - he was very erect and with the precum everywhere. I assumed it could squirt when he orgasmed. I'm no size queen, but how does a girl deal with that? Could someone... Could I even feel it in me? I found myself envisioning Heather's big pouty lips wrapped around it, traveling it's throbbing length as she sucked--

"Hey!... You hoo!... You in there, somewhere?" And there was my roommate of barely a week, in the living room again, interrupting my contemplation. I looked up at her.

"Huh?" was all i could manage. I focused now and I was suddenly very aware that I was laying back on the couch with my legs spread a little too wide, if you know what I mean. Fortunately my robe still covered everything. I shifted into cross-legged position, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"There you are!" she was still cheerful and bubbly, and not at all the demeanor you would expect on a woman who did such kinky things to a boy. Her smile was mischievous and wide, flashing a lot of perfectly white teeth. "Want to see something cool?"

By now, I had no reason to believe that her definition of "cool" was even in the same universe as mine, but really... It's not like the morning could get much weirder. I shrugged and said, "Okay," and stood to follow her and as I did, I felt a wetness in my panties. had I been so zoned out I'd pissed myself? No... Not enough liquid and I'd have smelled the urine. So... Wait, was this turning me on? Still? I shifted my shoulders slightly and... yep. nipples, hard as pebbles brushing against the thin material of my tank. What the hell was this? My nips are super sensitive and this wasn't helping my concentration. I prayed she couldn't tell, but I'm pretty sure she could - there wasn't much that Heather missed. I again noticed that familiar flutter of warmth across my pelvis.

I tried to focus on my surroundings and not what my body was doing as I followed Heather, now in a plaid flannel longshirt PJ-top, like she had just popped out of bed, down the hall. What was this crazy nonsense? I wasn't into bondage and all that kinky stuff! And if I were, I'd probably prefer to be the one one tied to things by a big strong man, who would have his way with me. So what was this all about?

I hadn't found an answer when we returned to Heather's room. Punk boy was still there, at the head of the bead, but he'd been flipped around so that now his head and shoulders were on the mattress where his ass had been, and his pale, skinny legs had been pulled up and attached to the points at the top of the head board. Essentially he was now staring up at his own penis, hard as ever, it's head an almost angry purple. He seemed pretty desperate for release and I could see the flow of precum still dripping down, this time onto his cheeks and forehead, painting a shiny pattern of random silvery strands of humiliation across his delicate features. There was some sort of large dildo sticking up between his legs above his ball sack, which I presumed made its way well into his ass. More thin, cruel strands of binding leather had been crisscrossed about the skin of his hard shaft and over his balls. It was some beautiful, scary work of art.

And it hit me again how this was affecting me on a very primal level. My pussy practically was drooling, my nipples almost painfully hard. I could feel the flush of excitement spread through me, out from my pelvis and down my thighs, up into my tummy. My breathing was a bit labored, like I'd climbed a dozen flights of stairs and I noticed I was matching the boy's own deep, exited inhale-exhale cycle. I had no idea what to do with a naked slave boy tied to a bed, but I figured Heather did. Whatever it was, I wanted her to do it, and I wanted it to happen now. For her part, Heather did not disappoint.

She looked at me and her eyes flared with a hunger I had not seen in her before. "Wanna watch me tear him apart?" I could only nod, overcome with lust and unable to form complete sentences. She gave me a wicked grin. "Good. Let's get started!"

To be continued.