bobbybob76767 wrote: ↑1 month ago
love this story can't wait to see whats next.....
maybe him and hana Glove up together and have some fun with their new friends...
oooh, interesting idea. I had a slightly different direction planned out for the next installment, but I'll definitely keep this is in the back of my mind
“Whmmm dmmmph….?” Hana asked through the tape on her mouth. I paced around in a panic for about 15 seconds and pulled frantically at my own hair.
“Gmmmph!” she mumbled sharply.
“Hush! I’m thinking,” I whispered. I continued pacing and fidgeted. I needed a bright idea right now and nothing was coming. I was well and truly scared in this moment.
Fortunately, this kind of situation was not entirely new to me. When I was studying art in college, I would often find myself staring at a blank piece of paper for an assignment, my drawing implements off to the side and no ideas would come to mind, sending me into a state of panic. When this crisis arose, I found that two things typically helped. One was to go for a walk for 20-30 minutes, without my phone or iPod, and cool down for a short period. And more often than not, my task would seem less insurmountable when I returned and I could work my magic on the assignment.
Unfortunately, time was a luxury I couldn’t exactly afford right now. What was my Plan B, you may be wondering? Just do something, anything at all, damn whatever consequences may follow.
“Okay! I think I have an idea,” I whispered. I scooped Hana off the floor and she gave me a little “hmmmph!” in surprise (God forgive me, but I couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of her butt as I carried her…). I headed toward the coat closet and plopped her inside. It was fairly cramped, but gave her just enough room to stretch her legs so she wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.
“I’ll keep the door cracked… I’ll try to shoo them away as fast as I can,” I said.
“Grmmmph…!” she exclaimed in a muffled whisper. I acknowledge up front that these were some very bad choices on my part, but would a story even be worth telling if the characters always made good decisions?
I rushed to the front door and took a deep breath. It was now or never. I tried to open the door but it only opened half an inch. The chain was still attached. I groaned in frustration; just another kick in the shins in this miserable evening.
I unlatched the chain. The previously muffled sheets of rain which were pouring down outside became amplified once I pulled the door open. Wes and Alicia were drenched to the bone.
“Hey guys, what’s going on?” I said, raising my voice over the noise of the rain.
“You’ll never believe this, but I think Wes dropped the keys and they got carried off by a stream of water. Whatever happened, we can’t find them now,” she said, half annoyed and half amused by the whole situation. The rain was pouring down so heavily by now that it was difficult to hear her. “They may be in the sewer now for all we know.”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, do you not have spares anywhere?”
“Yes, but they’re in our house and we’re locked out….” Wes sighed and shook his head.
“We don’t want to impose, but could we take shelter in your place while we call a locksmith?” Alicia asked.
Like a good neighbor, Greg Byrne is there, my inner monologue sang to me.
“You bet, come on in,” I said, and gestured them to come inside. No good deed goes unpunished is a philosophy I don’t want to believe in, but I was sure as hell feeling it now.
***
Five months earlier…
“Fuck!” I growled angrily to myself one day as I tried to replace my mower blade. I didn’t know what I was doing at all and was too prideful to call my dad for help. I knew there were kids around in our subdivision and I needed to watch my mouth, but I was too blinded by white-hot frustration to care at this juncture. “I swear, I just want to throw this damn thing right the Christ back to Home Dep-“
“Need some help?” a voice called out, and I turned my head to see one of my next-door neighbors running toward me, sporting a dense black beard and large sunglasses. I felt myself grow red at having someone hear my private, profanity-laden tirade, not to mention the embarrassment at looking foolish as I struggled in my task (if you’ve been reading this little chronicle from the start, this insecurity of mine will come as no surprise to you).
“Um… sure, if you don’t mind,” I said, trying to hide how abashed I was.
“No problem at all, boss man!” he said, with a hearty laugh. His appearance and general temperament reminded me a lot of the blind man in “Cathedral”, the short story by Raymond Carver. “Wes Miller, by the way. Not sure if we’ve met.”
“Hi, I’m Greg,” I said, and stuck out my hand for the obligatory handshake.
I had seen him several times before since we had moved into our new home only a month earlier but still hadn’t gotten around to speaking to him yet. I would occasionally spot him mowing his own lawn without a shirt on, as well as sitting on the front porch with a beer and blasting Luke Bryan on a Bluetooth speaker. My first thought when I saw him is that we’d have absolutely nothing in common. We’d wave to each other as we went about our business, maybe even chat every so often, but I always assumed that was about as far as our relations as neighbors would probably go. I doubted very much that we’d have a lot to say to each other.
He took me through the process of replacing the blade. I promptly forgot all of his instructions as soon as he finished (despite having spent my entire life in the American southeast, sometimes even I had trouble deciphering the accents of my fellow citizens), but I felt relieved to have it over and done with.
“Looks like your back in business, my man,” he said.
“Thank you so much,” I said gratefully. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with these things.”
“No problem, man, we all need a little help sometimes. Actually, y’know what else? My wife and I are havin’ a barbecue at our place tomorrow with a few other neighbor folks. You and your lady are invited if you wanna join us,” he offered. I balked a little; I had only just started talking to this dude and he already wanted me at his place for a meal. But the weirdness wore off as soon as I considered the prospect of a barbecued pork sandwich. That sounded pretty damn great right about now.
“Okay! We’ll be there then,” I confirmed. “Need me to bring anything?”
“Maybe another time, but just bring your empty stomach this go round.”
A day later Hana and I walked across the street to the Miller home. I had started to get cold feet a few hours beforehand and had thoughts of backing out. I wasn’t going to fit in with this crowd, I had nothing intelligent or witty to say. I would only be a charisma vacuum at best. Hana sighed and shook her head. This wasn’t the first time I had subjected her to my mental handwringing.
“Sometimes you really overestimate how much people will care. Come on, it will be fun. You’ll be glad you went,” she said, and slipped on her sandals
We approached the backyard fence and the pleasing aroma of grilling filled the air; that always smells like summertime to me. The backyard was neat as a pin. Precisely mowed, no bare patches whatsoever. I almost felt intimidated to walk on it. In the words of Hank Hill, you don’t mess with a man’s lawn.
Wes was standing by the grill with some unfamiliar neighbor folk and a woman that I recognized as his wife.
“Greg!” he called out and waved. He ran to greet us, and I heard Hana yelp as a big old brown lab ran up from behind him and decided to give me a greeting of his own. It jumped up on me, nearly knocking me down. “Jake!” Wes yelled.
“Aww, he’s such a sweetheart,” Hana said as she scratched the dog’s ears, despite the fact that he was digging his paws into my stomach (and a little too close to my crotch).
“He’s a good boy,” Wes said, tugging his dog’s collar to pull him away from me, “just a pain in the ass sometimes.” He picked up a stray tennis ball covered in dirt and slobber and threw it across the backyard, and Jake went zooming after it. “Meat’s almost done, get yourselves some paper plates,” he said.
“Hi! I’m Alicia,” the woman standing by the grill said. She wore a casual floral print dress and smart pair of glasses, the kind with black acetate frames at the brow and metal at the bottom. “So nice to meet you both! We just live a few feet away and we haven’t even spoken to each other yet, what’s that about?” she chuckled.
Alicia had a rather peculiar background, as we would learn. Her parents emigrated to the US from Cambodia (I would become friends with her on Facebook later and found there that her maiden name was Pung) and had settled in, of all places, Wisconsin. Despite growing up in one of the nation’s colder states, she ended up being quite an accomplished swimmer and was recruited by the University of Virginia on an athletic scholarship. Moving over 800 miles from Milwaukee to Charlottesville had been a difficult adjustment, but she thrived there.
Meeting Wes had been something of an accident for her. He had been living in Charlottesville with a friend for about a year, having recently graduated from James Madison University (with a bachelor’s degree in linguistics; he was currently working as an office assistant for a plastics company). His friend was a UVA student and invited Wes to tag along to a party one evening. He caught a glimpse of Alicia that night and did something I could never ever do in a million years: He went up to her and asked her for the time. And from there he simply pushed the conversation onward. Thirty minutes later, he asked her for her number, which she gave him. The rest is history.
“What do you do with your time, Greg?” Alicia asked me. I wanted to sigh; the only answer I had would bore everyone to tears. I pretended to finish chewing a large piece of meat and then swallowed.
“Well, I work for an insurance company,” I began (not wanting to admit that I was a telemarketer), “and when I’m not doing that… I like watching movies, working around the house….”
“After I’ve asked him a thousand times…” Hana said, rolling her eyes playfully.
“There may be some truth to that,” I said with a slightly embarrassed smile, and gave her a friendly shove. “And I like listening to records, too. I’ve got a pretty big collection.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Alicia said, without a follow-up question. I felt inadequate for not having something more interesting to contribute, but I continued munching on my brisket and forgot it pretty quickly.
As the meal began to wind down and conversations began to lull, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see Wes.
“Hey, come inside for a sec, wanna show you somethin’,” he said, gesturing to me to come hither with the beer in his hand. He guided me through the living room and down a set of stairs to the basement. He switched on the light and I was immediately startled by the sight of a deer head mounted on the wall. A huge buck with gigantic antlers.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” he joked, seeming to recognize the start his little bit of decoration gave me. “You’re not the first one he’s spooked. Probably need to move him someplace else,” he said, shrugging.
If the deer head made me apprehensive about what Wes intended to show me, my fears were allayed once I saw what was next to it: a large framed poster of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Except this one had the original Italian title printed on it, Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo.
“Hey, nice! You like westerns?”
“Oh yeah. My love for them comes from my dad, who inherited a love for them from my granddad. They were both big on the John Wayne and Randolph Scott flicks, which are great and all, but I love all the weird shit that came out of Italy and the rest of Europe in the 60’s and 70’s. Might be partly because I’m half Italian on my mom’s side; I think that influenced my taste in other movies, too,” he said, and pointed his beer to another wall, where a framed poster of Raging Bull hung, the bruised and battered face of Robert De Niro staring daggers at us. I was about to make a joke about Wes having mob ties, but quickly thought better of it.
And then I saw the main attraction: a shelf full of records. Actually, make that three shelves of records. It turned out that Wes Miller was something of a connoisseur of country music. Not just of the Luke Bryan/Garth Brooks/Tim McGraw variety, but going back far back into the twentieth century. I flipped through his collection and anybody who was anybody had a spot: Tex Ritter, Loretta Lynn, Emmylou Harris, Kris Kristofferson, Hank Williams, Ernest Tubb, and many others I couldn’t even recognize. And there was plenty of southern rock as well. I saw some Molly Hatchet, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Outlaws and… I gasped. The Allman Brothers, At Fillmore East, one of the best live albums of all time. Forgetting my manners, I pulled the sleeve off the shelf to look at it.
“My aunt gave that to me from my uncle’s collection after he passed away a few years ago,” Wes said. “He was smart enough to keep the records in rice paper so’s they’d last longer. It’s probably about 50 years old by now. Don’t sound like mint condition, but it still plays pretty nicely.”
“Wow….” I said, the only thing I could say.
“Wanna borrow it?”
“That’d be great! Thank you, I’d loan you something of mine as collateral, but I’m not sure if I have anything that’d interest you.”
“Well, if you’re offering, I could stop by tomorrow. You’d be surprised at the kind of stuff I dig.” We walked back upstairs and exited through the sliding glass door to rejoin the party. Hana sat with Alicia on the patio. Jake
“Did you boys have fun?” Alicia teased.
“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” I said, in my worst Humphrey Bogart impersonation, and patted Wes on the back. I saw Hana smile and take a sip of her wine. I could practically hear her gaze say to me See? I told you this wouldn’t be so bad.
***
I brought some towels in from the downstairs bathroom for my guests to dry off, keeping a close eye on the closet door to ensure they didn’t go snooping around. Wes spoke on his phone while Alicia dried off.
“Thank you so much, Greg, we really hate barging in like this,” she said as she wiped the nape of her neck.
“What are neighbors for?” I asked, trying to smile. My heart was racing a mile a minute. I had never been in such a precarious situation in my entire life.
“They said they could be here in 30 minutes,” Wes said after hanging up his phone. Great, this was just fantastic. Now I had to play the entertainer while Hana sat bound and gagged in the closet. I try to maintain a positive attitude even in the least ideal situations, but this had turned into an utter shitshow. I felt like a character in a sitcom engaged in some dopey pratfall that a studio audience laughs at on cue. It was time to try my hand at improvisation once again.
“I’ve actually got a few ponchos and two flashlights that have a lot of kick. I wouldn’t mind braving the rain and helping you look for the keys, maybe you could call off the locksmith,” I offered. Perfect! That would do the trick.
“Yeah! That’s a good idea. Just as soon as the rain lets up a bit,” he said. I tried not to sigh in exasperation and attempted to think of something else. “Say, where’s Hana?” he asked me.
“Oh… she’s gone to bed already,” I lied hesitatingly.
“She must be sleeping like a log with all this racket we’re causing!” Alicia cackled. Neither of them appeared to be drunk, but they still had that outgoing disposition which one acquires after a few drinks at dinner.
“She’s not feeling too well. Told me that she might be catching a cold and was feeling a bit achy. She’s been vaccinated for Covid, but I may actually sleep downstairs tonight just to be on the safe side,” I said, continuing this charade without flinching. I hoped that this subterfuge would lead them away from her as the topic of conversation, and maybe even shoo them both out of my house.
“What’s that roll of duct tape doing on the floor?” Alicia asked. I looked and there it was, sitting by the corner of the couch. Shit shit shit, how did I forget?
“I… I was….” I stammered. This situation was getting spiraling out of control very quickly. (Still, my heart lurched in a pleasant way at hearing her say “duct tape”.)
“There’s no need to get so nervous about it,” she laughed. “I was just wondering. I know you’re not a serial killer.”
Why do people have to be so damn chatty and nosy after they’ve had a few drinks…? I thought to myself, and mentally chastised myself for being so judgy. I just wanted this to be over.
“I was just taping up some boxes earlier. We’ve got a bunch of junk that we’re planning to put in storage really soon.”
“Wouldn’t packing tape be better?” Wes asked.
“Yeah, I s’pose. But I couldn’t find any around here so I just got lazy,” I said with a manufactured chuckle. From the corner of my eye, I spotted our orange cat sniffing at the closet behind my impromptu guests and trying to pry open the just-barely-ajar door with his paw.
“Ace, no!” I exclaimed. I rushed to scoop him up off the floor. He had opened it just enough so I could see Hana gazing in horror, her eyes wide above her duct taped mouth, still fully nude. But I managed to click the door shut all the way just before Wes and Alicia could turn their heads.
“Kitty!” Alicia squealed. She rushed to pick him up and stroke her hands across his fur, which Ace grudgingly tolerated.
“What did you name him after? Ace Ventura?” Wes laughed.
“No, it’s actually a tennis term,” I explained, “You know? Where you hit a serve that your opponent can’t return.” Both of my guests regarded me with confusion. This was becoming awkward. “Didn’t either of you ever play Wii Sports as a kid?”
“I was more of an Xbox person myself. Lotta Halo and Call of Duty,” Wes said. I felt relieved at having directed their attention away from the closet. Ace had wriggled free from Alicia’s grasp and her gaze quickly returned to the roll of duct tape that I’d carelessly left sitting on the floor in plain sight. I twiddled my thumbs by looking up on my phone how to unlock a deadbolt with a credit card but I was still too nervous to retain any of that information. I was getting butterflies in my stomach again. Not just from being perilously close to having an extremely private part of my life being revealed, but now from this very attractive woman putting herself in close proximity to my biggest fetish.
Mmmm-hmmmmph!
The high-pitched muffled yelp made me jump out of my skin. The dust in the closet must have made Hana sneeze. This wasn’t lost on my guests, as they looked around the room curiously to see where the noise came from (even Alicia was yanked from her tape reverie).
“Ace must’ve sneezed something up,” I chuckled, “the fun just never ends with these furry friends of ours…” I quipped.
Alicia meanwhile couldn’t stop staring at that damn roll of tape. Eventually she picked it up and started to play with it, tossing it back and forth from one hand to the other. My heart was beating faster now. Between having to hide our bondage games and having an attractive woman engage with my biggest fetish was too much. Way too much. And yet I couldn’t stop watching.
“Would you stop playing with that? It doesn’t belong to you,” Wes chided her, but still sounding amused with her fascination. However, Alicia remained undeterred.
“Do you mind Greg?” she asked. I was at a loss for words and simply shrugged. She aggressively peeled away a wide strip of the duct tape and ripped it off.
“Alicia, please….” Wes begged, shaking his head. She pressed the strip of tape over her lips and her eyes popped open widely as she smoothed it down.
“Hmmmph! Mmmm kmmmph tmmmph!” she mumbled. Alicia continued chatting and gesticulating, clearly loving this immensely, and Wes laughed. This was getting weirder and weirder by the moment; I dashed off to the kitchen to get a drink of water. As I filled my glass under the tap, I could hear more ripping noises and playful grunts as Alicia played with the tape. I sighed and tapped my foot impatiently hoping that their little game would be over by the time I got back into the living room. I felt a stiffness growing in my pants and tried to make it go away. There was nothing morally wrong about being aroused by all of this; it was just a bodily reaction that was beyond my control. But still, I couldn’t help but be uncomfortable about it.
I paced back into the living room and my jaw hit the floor. Alicia by now was thoroughly bound with the duct tape: ankles, knees, her wrists taped behind her back. The combination of her taped mouth and glasses looked really incredible, I can’t lie. She squirmed and rolled around on the floor, and then sat up and tried to talk again. Her ponytail bobbed up and down as she attempted to mumble and grunt through the tape sealing her mouth shut. Wes scooped her off the floor and plopped her on the couch with him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder; he seemed to be enjoying this just as much as she was. He caught my gaze as I reentered the living room and sighed.
“Okay, fun’s over, let’s get you out of this,” he said. He fished around in his pocket (I assume for a pocketknife) and suddenly his eyes lit up. “Well, I’ll be damned! The keys were in my pocket this entire time.”
I wish there was a word in the English language which describes the annoyance you experience when someone you’re close to does something that makes you want to pull your hair out.
Alicia gave a muffled squeal of delight. Wes began the process of cutting her loose, which he carried out in remarkably quick fashion (no surprise there, as this was someone who worked a bunch with tools). His wife pulled the tape from her lips and winced slightly. Some of the adhesive residue from the tape was still on her clothing, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by that. I loaned them an umbrella so they could walk across the street without getting soaked.
“Thanks, Greg!” You’re a gem,” she called as they scurried out into the rain. “Hope Hana gets better!”
Ruh-roh. One more snafu to sort out this evening.
***
I approached the closet door and opened it slowly, with a mixture of dread and apprehension. I was surprised to see that Hana looked calm. I could see the relief in her eyes at having skirted disaster, but also a stern expression that frightened me. I gently peeled the tape from her mouth and she took a deep breath. I dragged her out of the closet.
“I am so, so sorry,” I apologized. “I had no idea what to do and I just panicked. I feel terrible about this.” I began to cut her loose.
“You could have done better, I agree. But… on the other hand, you just wanted to help and be a good neighbor. So, I hope you learn from this, but at the same time, don’t change. If that makes any sense.”
“Yeah, I think I catch your meaning,” I said as I finished cutting her wrists free. She took over from there as she set about at unwrapping the duct tape from the rest of her body. I found myself fantasizing about her being a damsel and freeing herself from her bonds, that was sexy as hell. I also loved how she rubbed her mouth from where the tape had been, there was something so intense and erotic about that. “Can I be a perv for just one second?”
“Go ahead,” she said, as she tore away the tape wrapped around her ankles with a thick crrriiik noise.
“I think you have a great ass,” I said, starting to get back in the mood after we had been interrupted so unceremoniously.
“Such a dirty boy you are, Gregory…” she said with a smile on her face as she pulled the last of the duct tape away from her thighs. “If you come within 20 feet of a roll of tape, you just can’t control yourself,” Hana said with a tone in her voice which let me know that she wanted a little more bondage for the night. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor and before I even knew what was going on she pounced on me and grabbed me by the jaw.
“I think you need to atone for your sins this night, what do you think?” she asked me. I still couldn’t get my damn mind out of the gutter: the way her back arched and her butt stuck up in the air was getting me going so hard.
“Well, you’re gonna do what you’re gonna do, not like I have any choice in the matter,” I said.
“If you’re going to be a smart mouth, I think we need to do something about that,” Hana said, and picked up the still full roll of silver duct tape from the ground, and began to peel it away.
RIIIIIIIIP
***
“But before I call the cops on you… I think I’ll have a little fun. How does that sound?”
“Nmmmph! Hmmmph!” I grunted, giving her big eyes and writhed in the chair sat in the middle of the living room. My pants and boxers had been removed, I was totally vulnerable. Just how I liked it. My calves were taped tightly taped to the chair legs and my upper body to the chair’s back. My wrists and forearms were likewise lashed to the chair arms.
“Was that a yes?” Hana asked with a mischievous grin on her face, and cupped her hand to her ear in mock focus. She was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and tight jeans, with knee high black boots. “You really are such a strange fellow,” she said and walked behind my chair to start rubbing my shoulders. “Put a roll of silver duct tape near you and you lose your mind. But I can’t really tease anyone for that; after all, I’m obsessed with it, too,” she said. “Put a strip of this over a person’s mouth and they can’t say a fucking word. It turns me on so much.” She turned the roll of tape over in her hand.
“Mmmmm hmmmm lmmmm gmmmm!” I mumbled. Hana ripped off another wide strip and slapped it tightly over my mouth. I was eating this up, I could never ever get enough of being gagged and silenced by her.
“I love duct tape. It’s perfect for putting perv’s like you in your place.” She traced her finger down my chest, slowly down to my belly. The tingling sensation in my stomach was intensifying to an unbearable degree. My mouth covered up, my limbs thoroughly lashed to the chair, I was completely at the mercy of this beautiful woman. I wanted to touch myself so much and get a release but couldn’t. It was infuriating and amazing at the same time. I let out a low-pitched groan of frustration. I would have to get revenge for this somehow.
“You really need to be shut-up, dirty boy. This has been a long time coming. Speaking of coming…” she snickered, and rip off a wide strip of tape from the roll. “Maybe I’ll have some mercy on you,” she said, and plastered the tape over her own trap, followed by two additional strips. She tried to talk with it and giggled, which boosted my arousal all the way to eleven. I moaned and begged her to give me some release. She stripped off her jeans and panties and I mumbled thankfully. She sat herself on my lap.
I was afraid that this was going to get old eventually if we did it enough times, but somehow it still felt fresh and exciting. We rubbed our taped mouths together and mmmphed in rhythm with her movements. Hana’s arms were wrapped around my neck and her breasts bounced in my face. We had agreed beforehand that she would give me a light pinch when she was ready for me to finish, and when I felt it, I let go immediately. I couldn’t have held it in much longer, the way the duct tape distorted her facial features was irresistibly attractive to me. She sighed through her gag as she finished and let her head rest over my shoulder, and she let out a muffled moan of pleasure. She ripped the tape from her mouth and exhaled audibly.
“That was amazing,” she said as she continued to catch her breath. I felt myself smiling so big beneath my tape gag. Could my life be more perfect?
And then from out of nowhere the front door suddenly burst open and both of us jumped out of our skin. Hana and I were typically quite diligent about locking our doors in the evenings. Except for tonight, it would seem.
“Hey, sorry guys!” Alicia called to us. The rain had ceased now and the melody of crickets and frogs from outside filled our den. “I just forgot my… purse.”
She regarded us with a perfectly blank look on her face. The expression You could hear a pin drop had never been truer than in this moment.
GreyLord wrote: ↑2 days ago
While I am a rope lover and an M/F kind of guy, there is no question that this is a wonderful read. Do keep up the good work.
Thank you! I’m trying to make it a goal to add a bit of variety to the bondage
