How To Rape A Straight Guy by Sullivan, Michel (phonics reader .TXT) 📗

Sittin’ down an’ drawin’ up a diagram of how it was gonna go.  Just like in a football game.  An’ Lenny turned into the one who’s holdin’ back.  It would of been funny, if Wayne wasn’t so fuckin’ serious about it.

First he asked me “what position” I wanted Shayes to be in when I fucked him.  Which I thought was a weird thing to ask, but I told him, “I do ‘em on their back, legs in the air.  It’s like fuckin’ a girl.”

“An’ you achieve greater penetration, that way,” he said in this real snickery kind of way he had.

“I want him to feel it,” I sneered back, “so it means somethin’ to him.  So when I’m done, he knows what happened.”

Wayne almost stopped breathin’, he got so excited.  “What about from behind?” he asked.

“I don’t like doin’ ‘em face down, so much.”

“No, no, strung up.  Hanging by his wrists?  His ankles secured?  Are you open to that, as well?”

That sounded weird.  “I -- I dunno,” I said.  “I can’t picture it.”

So he went online with this bondage website to show me what he was talkin’ ‘bout.  I gotta tell ya, I never seen the kind of shit they got out now that you can buy, all of it aimed towards tyin’ a guy down so you can do what you want to him.  Leather straps.  Thick leather gags with things stickin’ out of ‘em like dildos an’ connected by little buckles, like they were sandals for your face, or with little colored balls to stick in their mouth that were from the size of golf balls to baseballs.  Harnesses like you’d find on horses.  Hammocks to strap a guy to so he could hang in the air when you fucked him.  An’ that’s on top of all the handcuffs an’ hoods an’ little pouches for God knows what they offered.  The only thing I saw that I really understood the use for -- I mean, aside from just tyin’ a guy down -- was a silver cock ring, ‘cause this one queen that bought me a few weeks back asked me to wear it while he sucked me off.  Took me forever to cum, an’ when I did -- it was weird.

What Wayne was talkin’ ‘bout was havin’ Shayes hang from the ceiling by a rope or chain, wrists wrapped in some wool-lined leather straps so there’d be no marks, legs held apart by some kind of leather strapped pole buckled to his ankles.  They’d be wide enough apart for me to slip ‘em over my shoulders an’ fuck him standin’ up, if I wanted.  It’d be sort of like he was on his back.

“I can do it,” I said -- shrugged, really, “but why not just let me do him on a bed?  It’s easier.”

Lenny nodded when he saw it an’ said, “Yeah, you -- you’d never get him to cum if -- if you do it like that.”

I looked at him, wonderin’ if he was tryin’ to egg me on.

Wayne worked up a sketch of what he wanted to do to a shed they had in their yard behind the condo.  He was gonna cover the walls with foam blocks to muffle the sounds an’ attach hoops or hooks to the ceilin’ to string Shayes up.  The only furniture’d be a bed an’ dinin’ chair to tie Shayes to.  Between the mattress an’ box springs of the bed, he was gonna lay in these straps that got chrome rings you can loop rope through.  They had a picture of this one guy tied to it -- spread eagle an’ goin’ nowhere -- that looked kind o’ creepy.  It also looked like I wasn’t the only one gonna have some fun with the fucker.  Not that I gave much of a shit about what happened once I was done.

Now I was gettin’ to where I knew who Wayne was -- in his brain, anyway.  The quiet ones, they’re always the ones that’re plannin’, thinkin’, figurin’ out ways to rock your world in one way or another.  I could almost picture him havin’ these long talks with himself, plannin’ the whole thing out like it really WAS a military campaign then goin’ through the actions in his head as he whacked off.  Made me wonder if he’d been tryin’ to figure out some way to do this to me.

I hoped the stupid fuck wasn’t dumb enough to think he could.

It wound up, Wayne got hold of this bondage catalog from the back of some “Tie Me Up” rag to order all the “restraints”.  He told me he did it under a fake name, paid for ‘em with a money order an’ had ‘em sent to this mailbox place on Beverly, where he had a box.  Had ‘em sent FedEx so the guy at the place’d sign for ‘em.  Like that’d keep the cops from trackin’ him down if they wanted to.  He got a blindfold, too, an’ he showed me this weird leather gag that had a metal ring in the middle of it.

“What the fuck’s that?” I asked him.

“Force the ring between his teeth,” said Wayne, usin’ Lenny to show me, “tie it in back and, tah-dah -- he can’t yell, can’t speak.  And, most importantly, can’t bite.”  Then he stuck his finger in the hole an’ poked Lenny’s tongue, makin’ him gag.

“Ring ain’t big enough,” I sneered.

“For you, maybe.”

“How far you plannn’ to go, Wayne?” I asked him.

He looked at me, dead on, an’ said, “Oh, as far as I can.”

“You don’t think we’re gonna do a three-way?”

“What’s the matter, Curt?” he asked with this freaky little smile.  “Is this becoming too queer for you?”

“Yeah,” I snapped. “All I wanna do is fuck him up!”

“So do I!” Wayne snapped right back at me.  “But I need these things to hold