The Heist

Two of my coworkers had already gotten into their cars without noticing my predicament and had driven away. The third, Carlos, is still with me. He says, "What the hell happened here?"

I shake my head, unable to think of any helpful words.

Carlos says, "I have nowhere to be. I can help you change it."

It's sweet of him to offer. "My insurance includes roadside assistance. All I have to do is make one call and help will be on the way."

He scoffs, "Bryson, two strapping young men such as ourselves can change this tire long before that service guy ever arrives. We got this."

I pay for the service, I figured I might as well use it, but whatever. Carlos is right. We could do this. And we could do it quickly. I shrug, "I'll get the owner's manual."

I walk around to the driver's side door and I let out an audible sigh.

"What's wrong?" asks Carlos.

"It's the front left tire too. I only have one spare. I'll have to call that service after all. I need a tow." I already have my cell phone out of my pocket as I scroll through my contacts.

Carlos says, "Two tires? What the fuck?"

I make the call, read some numbers off my insurance card and repocket my phone. "Carlos, thanks for offering to help but I'm all set. The guy is finishing up with another customer and he'll be here in about an hour."

He checks the time on his phone, "I could wait with you. Keep you company."

I smile, "An hour is too long. My night is shot to hell, but yours still has potential. Go get out there and find something fun to do. If you stayed here, I'd just have to go with the tow guy anyway once he arrives. I'll have shit to deal with."

He seems to finally agree. He nods and tells me, "Text if you need anything."

And with that, Carlos is gone.

Antonio:

I can't park my SUV in the facility's employee lot, as I am not an employee, so I park on a nearby side street. It's not full-dark outside yet, but it's dusk and the light has dimmed. I am crouched behind a van near my Belly Boy's car, out of sight. I feel ridiculous in my black hoodie, black jeans, black ski mask and black gloves. And I'm hot. It was a warm enough day that my target will be wearing shorts (and barely a shirt). I, meanwhile, am bundled up for late autumn.

He appears from a door in a small group. When one of the guys he's walking with, Carlos apparently, offers to help and to stick around, I start to panic. I can't handle two of them. I was already nervous enough about manipulating just Belly Boy. But eventually, My Guy convinces Carlos that he will be fine waiting alone.

If he only knew.

Carlos had called his worker friend by his name. After a long month, I finally know Belly Button Boy's name. Bryson. I knew it! I could just tell with that blond hair, the summer tan, muscles in some places but not others... He might not actually be rich, but I was spot on when I predicted he had some lame white-boy name given by yuppie white-boy parents.

My dick twitches in my black jeans.

I get a glimpse of Carlos as he walks away. He seems genuinely disappointed to not be part of the solution for his work friend. Maybe he has a little crush on his buddy. Understandable. I certainly do. And Carlos is kind of hot himself. I wouldn't be mad if I was offered a good look at his belly button. But that's a thought for a different plan another time. His shirt is properly sized and tucked in.

Once Carlos drives away, it's just Bryson and me, but he doesn't know I'm lurking. His back is to me and his attention is on his phone. It's almost too easy. I wait until he pockets his phone again before I creep up behind him and, pulling my weapon from my hoodie pocket, I stick the muzzle of my gun in his back.

He yelps and his hands instinctively shoot up.

I lean in close to his ear, "Keep quiet and you won't get hurt."

He keeps quiet.

"We're going for a little walk, just you and me. No noises or quick moves. If you try anything funny, my gun comes back out."

He nods and I pocket my weapon. We walk side by side off the lot and up the sidewalk to my waiting escape vehicle. His eyes are wide and afraid. If he cooperates, all will be fine. At the rear of my SUV, there is still no one around. I order him, "Hands down and behind your back."

He complies.

I pull a pre-looped nylon zip tie out of my pocket, slip his hands through and pull it tight around his wrists. I have been patient for hours. Weeks, really. I deserve my first close look. I need it. I put my hands on his shoulders and spin him around. His eyes are wide circles of fear and his mouth and his belly button both gape at me in wide surprised "O's". It is even more brilliant up close and personal. I very much want to touch it, but that will have to wait until later. At my house. The two of us alone with no witnesses. I open the rear door and pull out an eye mask to use as a blindfold. With that in place, I grab another zip tie and bind his ankles together. He is completely helpless, just like he'll be all weekend.

Bryson:

One minute I'm waiting for the roadside service guy and the next I've been abducted. My captor threatened to hurt me if I tried anything, so I've been doing exactly what he tells me to do. This may have been a mistake though because now I'm blindfolded and bound. He guides me into the rear cargo area. He takes care to make sure I don't bump my head. Lying in the far back, bound and blindfolded, he hogties my wrists to my ankles. He nudges me onto my side so I am facing him. I can feel that the bottom of my shirt is spread apart and my stomach is stretched and taught. I can also feel his eyes on me.

Finally, he says, "Amazing!"

I'm helpless to save myself. All I can do is wait.

He slams the liftgate shut and settles himself in the driver's seat. It's maybe a fifteen minute drive before we're parked again. The rear of the trunk opens and he cuts the connection between my wrists and my ankles. With his help, I'm able to stand. He pulls off my blindfold and says, "I'm freeing your feet so you can walk. Like I said earlier, don't try anything, or else."

We are in a garage. It is completely nondescript. We could be anywhere within a ten mile radius and I did not see the outside. He leads us into the house and up the stairs to a bedroom. His bedroom? Maybe. There is a four-post bed centered in the room. He tells me to lie on my back. It's uncomfortable because I'm lying on my tied hands, but I do it. He pulls several more zip ties out of his pocket and uses two to secure my ankles to the lower bedposts. My legs are spread far apart. He has a Swiss Army Knife on the side table and he cuts my wrists free. I'm still bound by my ankles and he still has a gun in his pocket, so fighting him would be a suicide mission. He ties me, one wrist at a time, to the two remaining bedposts and I am now completely spreadeagle on my back.

He is wearing all black. Black jeans, a black hoodie, black gloves and a black ski mask. And from the tiny bit of skin showing around his eyes and mouth, I can tell that he himself is black. For a long time, he does nothing but stare down at me. He stares and stares and stares some more. His eyes do not roam over my body, they concentrate on my midsection. Even though he is wearing jeans, I can tell that he has an erection.

And then it hits me. I know who this is. This is my lunchtime admirer. The staring dude in the alley whose abs and erection I can't get enough of. For a second I feel relieved. I feel like I'm safe. I almost think of him as a friend. An ally. But I was wrong. He freaking took me prisoner!

I pull at my restraints to no avail. My first words to my captor are, "I know who you are. You are the lunchtime alley guy."

Antonio:

Well, that didn't take long. Having been busted, I pull off the hot and sweaty ski mask. Next off come the gloves and the hoodie. I'm now in black jeans and a black t-shirt.

"You slashed my tires, didn't you?"

I nod.

"What do you want with me?" he demands.

"Hey, you asked for this. You've been asking for it for a month now."

He looks at me like I'm insane. Like I just grew a second head. "How?"

"Oh, please. You've been teasing me since the first time I saw you. You're all arms and legs and belly. You know you're fucking hot and you paraded around in front of me for weeks. Your shirt was ridiculously tight and short to start with--"

"That was the shirt they gave me. I tried to ask for a bigger size."

"Uh huh. And then you popped off the button."

"That was an accident!"

"No... Do you only have one shirt that you wear every day or did you have an accident with each one?"

He says nothing.

"You've known exactly what you've been doing. The way you stretch and twist and flounce around... You've been putting on a show, parading your belly button in front of me. Always turning to face me, no matter what you're doing. It was obvious. It was all a tease. A game. And it worked. You have got my full attention. You successfully motivated me to take action. I finally made a move of my own."

I know he knows I'm right because his cheeks turn pink right before my eyes. "But the game I started was harmless. It wasn't real."

"It was real to me."

"But it was all visual. It was in our imaginations. What you've done has crossed the line. You're holding me captive."

"Of course the next step would have to be physical." I sigh, "I just want you to be my plaything for the weekend. If you relax, I know you'll enjoy yourself. Trust me."

"How can I relax? I'm bound and pulled taught like a rubber band. And trust you? Why? You've vandalized my car, stuck a gun in my back, abducted me, threw me in your trunk bound and blindfolded, driven me to an unknown location and now I'm being restrained in a spreadeagle position. Where does the trust come in?"

He has a point. "Bryce--"

"My name is Bryson!"

"Not this weekend it's not. I won't say that. It's too... I just can't." I run a hand over my face, "Look, I have no intention of hurting you. I have no desire to hurt anyone. I desire to do many things to you, but causing pain in any way is not one of those things."

"The first words you said to me were a threat."

I take a moment to contemplate the lovely boy lying helpless before me. I have not even begun the process of stripping off his clothes yet and this is already the sexiest display I have ever seen. And that belly button! Stretched out like he is, it's not round right now. It is the most beautiful vertical oval I have ever seen in my life. My dick is firming and my mouth is watering. Not only would I never hurt him, I would probably throw myself in front of a bullet to save him.

I say, "That was just to ensure your cooperation in getting you here. Ask yourself this question. Have I hurt you yet? The ride in the trunk may have been uncomfortable, but have I hit you, roughed you up even? Have I done anything to suggest that I will?"

He tries to keep looking me in the eyes but his eyes seem to keep dropping down to my waist. Is it my abs? The bump in my jeans? This is the first time I've ever seen him without sunglasses on. Is it possible that he's been watching me the whole time I've been watching him?

He says, "If you want to earn my trust, you can start by doing two things for me."

He is so not the one in a position to call the shots here, but I hear him out.

"Tell me your name."

"Antonio."

He nods. "And take off your shirt."

Bryson:

I relax just a little. His name really is Antonio. It has to be. He answered without hesitation. No strain in his voice. I asked and he answered. And he also took off his shirt when I told him to. Maybe he doesn't mean any harm. And maybe this will be fun. I wanted to ask him to grab a beer with me some time, but he decided to just grab me. He skipped a few steps in the traditional process and the zip ties are a little extra, but maybe he's right. I mean, I don't think I exactly asked for this, but I asked for something. Didn't I? I was willingly playing the game.

So now I allow myself a moment to take in the beauty of my captor. Antonio. His absence from the alley this afternoon did not mean I would never see him again. And those abs that I've gotten a hint of so many times these past weeks through his form-fitting shirts... Oh my god! He did not disappoint. He is cut! So tight and defined. A true eight-pack. And tight over every ridge is the most flawless, beautiful dark brown skin I have ever seen. I want to touch it, kiss it, lick it... Does he shave or is he naturally hairless? I desperately want to run my fingers over his whole body, but I'm tied down and I can't move. Well, one thing can move. And it does. My shorts are filling up with the beginnings of what I know will become an obvious and massive erection.

Antonio:

He has been watching me too. Why else would he ask me to take my shirt off? If it puts him a little at ease, I'm happy to comply. I've waited too long. It's time to explore my prey. His arms and legs are as muscular as I thought they were from a distance. And his tummy is so soft and vulnerable. Thin, but free of muscles and lumps. Just smooth blemish-free skin bulls-eyed with the perfect target. I've seen this belly button contorted into many different positions and shapes and it's hard to pick my favorite, but this oval is at or near the top of the list. It is a half inch deep. I have a tape measure on the bedside table and I snag it. Yep. A half of an inch exactly.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Relax. I'm taking official measurements." I work the fabric in a couple different directions. I tell my guest, "A half inch deep and in this stretched out position, it's three quarters across and an inch and a quarter long. In case you ever wondered."

As I work the tape measure, he giggles. Of course he's ticklish. None of this would be any fun at all if he wasn't.

He still seems to be unable to stop looking at my abs. He and I are so different and I don't even mean our completely opposite skin tones. While I was taking measurements, my dark hands against his tanned but pale plate of skin was a beautifully striking contrast that to me complimented the other so well. Our true differences are under the skin. I am entranced by his gentle, delicate vulnerability and he seems to be enthralled by my well-earned, rock hard washboard eight pack that I am proud of, but not so attracted to on other men. And I can say with confidence that he is enthralled because he has a rock hard development of his own taking shape before my eyes, barely concealed by his cute little brown shorts. I'll get to that later.

Bryson:

My god is this man gorgeous. His belly button is a shallow innie. Very shallow, but an innie nonetheless. It is perfectly nestled at the center of the junction of four of his square eight pack muscles. I want to do things to him so badly. My response to him is obvious. My dick is begging to be set free.

He begins to unbutton the remaining buttons on my shirt.

Antonio:

Finally! The full view. It was well worth the wait. He might not work out his abdominals but he certainly has nicely developed pectorals. The shirt is still in my way and I have no intention of cutting his bindings, so I grab the scissors off my little table. Before I left the house I stocked my table with my tape measure, scissors, massage lotion, lubrication, a condom and zip ties. It's quite the eclectic mix of items and I fully intend to use them all. I move to cut away his shirt.

"They'll dock that from my pay. If I need to get a replacement shirt, I'll have to pay for it myself."

I chuckle. This kid. He's a prisoner for the weekend and yet so practical. I tell him, "I'll give you fifty bucks for a new shirt when I set you free Sunday night."

I cut the fabric across his shoulders and the shirt falls away. Wow! Fantastic! Spectacular! Vulnerable masculinity. My favorite kind. I take my finger and begin a slow drag from his wrist down his inner arm. He twitches and giggles. I cross the elbow and take a ride along his bicep. He reacts some more. When I detour and swirl around in his armpit, he laughs out loud.

I tell him, "By the way, I live alone. Feel free to laugh, yell, scream... Let it all out. Don't be shy."

I do the same to his other arm and then I massage both armpits at once. He decides to take my advice and he lets loose with howls of delight. I'm calling them "howls of delight" because they certainly are delightful to me.

I tickle his neck first with my wiggling fingers and then with my darting tongue. I think he really likes this when he screams for me to stop. When I suck on each nipple, his screaming intensifies. After about thirty minutes of nonstop upper body torturous pleasure, I give him a brief rest to catch his breath. There is a beautiful man tied helplessly to my bed wearing nothing but boots and shorts. This is the sexiest display I have ever seen in my whole life - real or online. And I have looked at a lot of online stuff. This is the most amazing night of my life.

I skip past the belly area, saving that for later. It's too soon for the main event. As sexy as my prisoner looks right now, it's time to lose the rest of it. I'll have to give him a hundred bucks instead of fifty because I'll soon be destroying his shorts too.

I head down to the foot of the bed. As I begin to untie his right boot he thrashes and demands, "Do not tickle my feet. I can't take that."

That had not been on my agenda for the night. I am actually not a foot guy. I'm not into them. They don't interest me. I just want him naked. But now... Hmm. Just the way he demanded me not to means I pretty much have to. I finish untying the lace and I slip the boot off. We are at the end of a warm summer day and this young man spent that day working outside with his feet trapped inside of ugly tan work boots that somehow look cute on him. His sock is sweat soaked and clinging to his ultrasensitive foot. I peel it off.

No, I never had a thing for feet, but this is a good looking one. A nice manly size, well-manicured toenails and smooth skin. It is surprisingly delicate. Not being a foot guy, I'm not even sure where to start or what to do. I try wiggling my fingers up the length of his arch and he howls in laughter so hard that I am compelled to explore this further. I tickle the base of his toes and his foot scrunches in futile defense. Then I scratch up and down his sole and he just about loses his mind. But I'm getting bored. I take off the left boot and sock and leave the new foot untickled.

It's time to get serious. Time for the main event. I move toward the tempting belly and grin down at the sexiest dimple on the face of the earth. I'm starting to drool.

Bryson sees the hungry look in my eyes and he squirms. "Antonio, please. I'm so sorry I teased you all month. I really am. That was my bad. But seriously man. Don't tickle me there. Do my armpits again, even my feet, but PLEASE, not my stomach."

He is in no position to bargain. And even if he were, offering his feet is a nonstarter with me. But really, he could offer me a million dollars and I couldn't be bought off of this opportunity of a lifetime. I begin to draw circles around his navel with one finger and each circle tightens in closer to the center.

He giggles as I close in on my target. "I mean it, Antonio. I'll go crazy."

"I shall do my best."

As I trace the rim, his giggles appropriately turn to belly laughs. I force myself to abandon the alluring crater and I focus in on the lower belly. Just like the first day I saw Bryson in the alley, his underwear is visible above the waistband of his brown shorts. I drag my finger along the tight skin just above the Under Armour band. He twists his body and laughs maniacally. I tug down on the legs of his shorts and pull them as low as they'll go. Blond pubes tuft out of his shorts and his hipbones jut up to the ceiling. He is even more beautiful than he was a minute ago.