Date: Fri, 1 Jun 2018 10:14:44 -0500 From: Jeff Moses Subject: Shooting Kyle Again This is a work of fiction. It includes scenes of consensual BDSM sex between teenage boys. No resemblance to persons living or dead is intended. If you are underage, or if possession of this text is illegal in your area, leave now. Some of the activities described in this story may cause injury or transmit diseases, including HIV. Please play safe--and use a condom! If you enjoy this site, which you obviously do or you wouldn't have read this far, click the "Donate" link and contribute to maintain it. NIFTY is a 501-c-3 organization. Authors retain rights to and title to their submitted works. (Please consult Nifty's submission guidelines for more information.) Shooting Kyle Again "Dammit!" Kyle said, bursting through the door. "What the hell, man?" "Wha--Kyle? What's wrong? What's--" "Susie called it off! She...it's over! She doesn't want to see me anymore! Why?!" "Didn't she say anything? Did she just, like, say 'bye' and leave, or what?" "She said, 'It just isn't working,' that's what she said!" I shrugged. "Well, if it wasn't--" Kyle looked at me for a moment as if he was going to tear my head off. Then he just collapsed into my arms, crying. It would have been very Hallmark romance-y, except that Kyle is built like a brick shithouse. (Why the hell do people say that, anyway?) He has about fifteen pounds on me, at least, and it's all muscle, so I sort of slowly sank onto the floor under him. "Let it out, Kyle," I gasped, as gently as I could under the circumstances. "Sorry," he sniffled, rolling off of me and lying on his back. "I shouldn't be bawling like--" "If that's the way you feel, Kyle, do it! Let it out." I came dangerously close to saying I loved him, which I do, but it freaks him out. I tried once, in the sixth grade, and he punched me in the stomach and ran back home. It took almost a month for us to get back together. But we'd been buddies since the third grade, and so one day, he just walked up to me and started talking about some movie he'd seen and had I seen it and did I like it, and it was as if that punch never happened. That was the moment I realized just how much I loved him! Of course, I didn't dare say it again. I just helped him with his homework, and loaned him money once in a while--which he always paid back, almost--and helped him "unload" every so often, and managed his successful Student Council campaign. And I whipped him. When Kyle started seeing Susie Dresser, I had sort of given up on any physical relationship beyond the occasional blow job. I figured it was more like we were brothers, or something. But one night when I was jacking off, I suddenly found myself imagining that I was whipping him. "Okay," I told myself, "you must be really angry about Susie Dresser, or something, and it's like getting even." But I couldn't just say, "Hey, Kyle. I'm pissed at you about dating Susie--can I whip you?" Then I got the idea about getting him to pose for dirty pictures. To make a long story short, it worked. And to top things off, Kyle liked it! I tied him up in my basement, naked and spread out with his hands tied to hooks in the ceiling beam and his legs spread between a pipe and a post. I blindfolded him and gagged him and put this metal collar around his neck, and whipped him on his butt and his upper back. For a while, I kept pretending I was taking pictures, but then I completely forgot about the camera, and after that... The thing was, Kyle didn't think of it as punishment--he got off on it! And I got off on it, and he didn't mind if I jacked off, and he sure as hell didn't mind if I gave him a blow job--well, that's not exactly true. See, Kyle usually shot when I whipped him. But one day, right after he'd cum and while he was still tied, I grabbed my dick and just knelt down in front of him and started sucking his cock. Well, it turns out that Kyle is one of those guys who really, really doesn't like his cock touched after he cums. But he was still tied up, bucking and jerking around, and it was like a game, or something--could I keep his cock in my mouth while he tried to get it away? Yes. In fact, at least half of the time, I could get another load out of him! Then I'd back off, and stand up, and just look at him, hanging there, exhausted and beautiful. Kyle calls himself "a real man," so there was no way he could admit that cumming twice was too much for him, or anything. The way he saw it--or at least the way he said he saw it--was that he was so hot that I just couldn't resist the temptation. Which was true, I guess, in a way. Anyhow, after our sessions, Kyle and I take a shower together. Needless to say, he lets me do the scrubbing. Which brings us up to now, almost. I'm doing my usual, washing him off, and he says, "Clean my butt, boy!" "Yessir!" Well, shit--why not? He's got a gorgeous ass. And I know from my own jack-off experience just how sensitive it can be, back there. And he was all suds'd up, and I rinsed him and licked his butthole. Kyle thought it was fantastic! Before I knew what was happening, he'd backed up so my head was between his butt and the wall and he was starting to grunt. It's this kind of noise from his gut-- well, it's a grunt, okay?--that he makes just when he's ready to cum. In the shower. For the third time. I don't want it to sound like Kyle's a jerk. He's not. He's gotten me out of a some nasty scrapes with bullies, and every once in a while when he's not teasing me he gives me this really deep look. I can't explain it, but it makes me feel almost like he's hugging me. It's just--straight guys always just assume the world is theirs, that they belong. And I...I feel like a guy who walked into the wrong party, or something, unless he gives me that look. Then, it's like I belong, too. Now, like I said, Kyle's convinced that he's straight, and all man. So my problem was how to keep us both happy, at least until one of us came to our senses. Anyhow, we're out of the shower and getting dressed in my bedroom, and he says, "I wish you were a girl--" and he stops and turns bright red. "I mean, I don't--it's not--you just make me feel, I don't know, like I'm not some dumb-ass jock fuckup, or something." "But you're not a dumb-ass jock fuckup! You're...you're the coolest guy I know!" Kyle shook his head. "You just don't know, man. Like on the Student Council, half the time I don't understand what's going on, with all that parliamentary procedure crap, you know? Or I think something's--something should be different, but I don't know what to say. It would be great if I had like a secret radio so you could hear stuff and tell me what to do. Like with Susie--" "Kyle! Listen to me! If Susie's decided it's 'not working,' that means it's not working for her. That's not your fault! Shit, it could mean that you're too good for her!" "But if she'd tell me what to do, I could change!" "No! No, that never works, or at least not for long. It's like forcing yourself to wear shoes that don't fit. They may look good, but eventually your feet are going to hurt so much you'll fall over!" "Shoes?" "It's a metaphor, Kyle. It means you can try to make yourself be something you aren't, but eventually...it gets all fucked up." "See? That's why you should be a girl! You understand this shit! I don't!!" he wailed. "You want another whipping?" "Yes! No. I don't know." "Kyle! Stop! Stop right now or I'm going to gag you again!!" And he dropped to his knees and opened his mouth, waiting. "Take your clothes off and follow me, Kyle," I said, feeling like I was almost hypnotized. I turned and headed back to the basement and he followed, stripping as he went. I led him down the stairs and over to the spot where he stands when I whip him, and I got the gag and buckled it into his mouth. And then, instead of hanging his arms from the beam, I pushed him over to this post that holds the beam up, and started tying him to the post, waist first, then wrists above his head, then knees and ankles. And he just let me do it. I stood where he could see me and pulled my belt out. "Ready?" I said, softly, and he nodded. I started gently, on his ass, gradually working up to harder blows until he'd had a dozen. Then I switched to his back for a second dozen, then back to his ass for a dozen more, and then his back. It wasn't like I was angry at him--well, maybe a little. But it was more like I was giving him medicine, or physical therapy, or something. He was moaning, and sobbing and gasping, but he wasn't struggling. He wasn't trying to get his hands loose, or move his body out of the way, or anything like that. He just took it. I waited for a few seconds until he'd gotten his breath, then undid the gag. Kyle stared at the post like he was trying to burn his way through it. Once in a while, time just seems to hang there, not moving--not passing, not...anything, like something is gathering up energy to jump, maybe. And then, "Put your finger in my ass," Kyle whispered. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. He wasn't in the best position, of course, but I got down on my knees and spread his cheeks until I could see his hole, and I wet my finger and pressed it against the opening. I just pressed a little harder and a little harder and he gasped and my finger went in. It went in further than I'd expected, and my other fingers were sort of jammed up against him so I moved my hand around and he just moaned, "Yeah." Then, he was wriggling his ass like he wanted it to go in further, which was impossible. I knew there was an alternative body part I might shove in there, but I was pretty sure that would freak Kyle out, but good. So after a few more seconds, I withdrew, and started untying him. He just stood there while I did, still staring at the post. "Kyle? You okay?" He turned his head toward me. "I don't understand," he said, and it was like I'd just told him there was no Santa Claus. "Hey, Kyle, I get it. You're upset about Susie. It's going to take a while for you to...adjust and everything, okay? But it's not your fault. Just keep telling yourself that it's not your fault!" He gave me this funny look, and I thought he was going to say something, but instead he turned to the steps and headed upstairs, gathering his clothes as he went. He stopped at my bedroom door. "Would you grab my shirt, please?" "Sure," I said, and I went into the bedroom and picked it up off the bed and turned around and didn't start wondering until right then why he hadn't come into the room. "Here you go," I said, and tossed the shirt to him. He started putting it on and heading for the front door and I followed him. "You okay, Kyle?" I asked, really gently. He just nodded. "Bye," he said as he walked out of my house, and the bottom fell out of my stomach. It was the finger-fuck, I just knew it. Goddam me! But he asked for it! But I shouldn't have done it! I went too far. I fucked up, but good! I suddenly knew exactly how Kyle felt about Susie, because I felt the same way about him. I couldn't even fool myself with the "it's not your fault" bullshit. I don't think I said word one to my folks at dinner, or after, except "good night." Then I lay in bed, staring at the quadrangles of shadow from my window on the ceiling. "Quadrangles!" That's the kind of shit I know about, when I should know about...what? People? Kyle? Me? I finally fell asleep, and I had a dream. It started with Kyle kneeling in front of me like he did, waiting for the gag, except the gag was my cock, and I was putting it into his mouth and then his mouth turned into his ass. And then it was like his ass swallowed me, and I was inside of him like a cave, and I kept hearing him shouting my name, but it was echoing all over so I didn't know where it was coming from. I started running every which way, and then I woke up. The next day, there was a note in my locker. It was a clumsy drawing of a hand holding a belt, and underneath it the words "my garage" and a letter K. I saw Kyle a couple of times during the day, disappearing around a corner or into a classroom, like he was trying to avoid me. I spent the day trying really hard to concentrate on my classes, but I kept glancing at the clock. Seconds are really long, you know? Finally, school was over. I ran home, got the gag and the blindfold and--why not? --the collar, and then got over to Kyle's house as quickly as I could, and ran around to the garage, and knocked on the door. Then I noticed that there was brown paper taped over all the windows. "Hi!" Kyle said, pulling me into the garage. "Do you know my cousin Mark?" "I don't--" "Lives on a farm? In Wisconsin?" "I can't say--" "He told me he put a cucumber up his butt." "Really?" Kyle nodded. "Yeah! I mean, that's not the kind of thing you'd lie about, right?" "I guess not." "Cucumbers are big, right?" "Yeah. I mean, I've never paid much attention to--" "So I was wondering...what do you think?" And he waved his hand like a tour guide at the inside of the garage. Kyle and his dad are both sort of neat-freaks, so everything you'd normally find in a garage was on metal shelves or pegboard hooks, stuff like that. It was actually pretty roomy, with no car in the space. Kyle's weight bench was right in the middle of the floor. And there were chains hanging from the ceiling. "Um...what...Kyle?" I couldn't even figure out what question to ask. Kyle gave me an answer, though. He started taking off his clothes. "There's ropes," he said, and I saw them, neatly coiled on the exercise bench. "You could tie my wrists to the chains. And there's that board. My folks won't be home before six." I looked where he'd pointed, and there was a piece of plywood with two metal rings screwed to it, and it was all clear: he was going to stand on the board with his legs spread and tied to the rings, and his hands tied to the chains. It was pretty much the same as my basement set-up, but way sexier, somehow--maybe because there was no washer-dryer combo in the corner. Needless to say, it didn't take long to get Kyle tied in position, collared, gagged and blindfolded. It was hot--not just sexy hot, but uninsulated wooden garage in the spring sunshine hot, too. So I decided to strip myself, down to my underwear. We had almost two hours--and that left time to put things away. I whipped Kyle like I usually did: ass, back, ass, back. But I surprised him with sets of fifteen, instead of twelve. There was more room to swing in the garage, and Kyle's body was already shiny with sweat. I took my time, and tried a couple of different positions. A few of my strokes landed harder than I'd intended, or maybe hit in a different spot, and I could tell that Kyle was really getting a workout. Apparently, that's what he wanted. By the time I was done, my cock had found its way out of my underpants. As I put the belt down, Kyle started to say something--or tried to start saying something. I quickly undid the gag, wondering if I'd maybe gone just a little farther than he'd expected--and not exactly sure how I felt about that. "Put me on the exercise bench and fuck my ass!" he gasped. I looked at the bench, and it was immediately clear to me how that would work. I released Kyle's ankles, then his wrists, and had him lie on the bench. He raised his legs and grabbed his ankles, and I tied him in place. "There's grease," he said, nodding to a shelf, and I quickly found the stuff. I smeared some on his ass and some on my cock, which felt incredible--way better than spit! "Ready?" I asked--both of us, actually. "Oh, yeah," I answered myself. "Do it!" Kyle answered, lying there, with his hands and feet tied to the uprights that were supposed to hold the weights. He was still blindfolded and wearing the collar. And his butthole was right there, reddish-brown and eager, quivering, almost. I pressed my cock against it and grabbed Kyle's ankles for balance. I pushed. I kept pushing, while Kyle's breath came faster and faster. "Open up, Kyle!" I said--ordered, actually. I mean, he wanted this, right? I pushed. He let me in and I almost lost my balance--for an instant, it looked like my dream. I don't know how to describe it: it was like jacking off, except a million times better. It was just this magnificent squeeze all the way along. I just kept pumping and pumping. It was...I opened my eyes, and there was Kyle's cock, looking gigantic from the underside. I balanced with my left hand and grabbed that shaft with my right, and Kyle squealed and he came, and I could feel it in his ass, squeezing my cock, demanding my cum. I forced myself as far into his hole as I could get and let loose. It felt like fireworks, like when that first one goes off, and there's the explosion and all of a sudden there's color everywhere against the night. I sort of fell forward between Kyle's thighs, and felt the last few twitches of his cock all smeared with his cum and I pulled myself up his body and just before my cock came out of his ass I got my lips to his and kissed him and he kissed me and it was the most wonderful, normal thing in the world.