Date: Tue, 17 May 2022 16:11:37 +0000 (UTC)
From: ropingtop@aol.com
Subject: Hart's reunion with tom installment 1 (authoritarian)

College had not been "a good fit" for Hart.  His grades had been ok, but
not great and he wound up at one of the second, or even third tier
schools.  Even there, his love of partying, drinking , and sex got in the
way of his studies.  He left after two years.  He bummed around for a
bit, until he wound up in a situation which WAS a good fit.
He was good at logistics.  And Mesmer corporation had just expanded their
operation by about 40 percent.  They needed people who had some ability
to handle the ins and outs of their various shipping needs, who also
wasn't reluctant to help out when there was a need for more hands on the
loading dock.  Hart was their man.  He fit in perfectly.  He was stronger
than his wiry frame suggested, and he was willing to put in extra shifts
for overtime.  Sometimes, he would trade working overtime for more time
off, which gave him the opportunity to get a nap in the afternoon, and
then get out and hit the clubs he loved.

The gay clubs.  Hart had come out in high school, and hadn't looked
back.  He had been one of the more promiscuous guys, until he developed a
crush on one of the "eggheads".  A tall, handsome blond egghead named
Tom.
Tom was about three inches taller than Hart, and gave off a physical
presence that suggested he was more of a jock than he was:  short blond
hair, blue eyes tending toward green, an almost apricot complexion and
nearly hairless.  Hart knew that about Tom because he had "accidentally"
looked at Tom when they were changing during gym class.  (He
"accidentally" looked at him more than once.   Tom, lost in engineering
equations, never noticed).

"He is SO hot,"  Hart had whispered once when he saw Tom walking by in
the corridors of school.  Tom wore very close fitting shirts - not to
show off his body, but because they cost less, and always a clip on tie.
His slacks?  Polyester, and again, cut tight.  Hart couldn't keep his
eyes off Tom's ass as it walked by.
"I know.  So close and yet so far,"  Hart heard his friend Frank's voice
and felt his hand on his shoulder.  Frank, also gay, knew about Hart's
crush.
"Does he know anything but his books? I want that boy so bad,"  Hard
moaned and Frank laughed.
"Reluctance never stopped you before.  You two have a common interest you
know?"
"WE DO?  What's that?"
"Self Defense.  Tom goes to this DOJO on the weekends.  Says it helps him
focus on what's important. " Hart's eyes got bigger.  He had been
studying self defense for about six years and was close to his black
belt.
"How the hell did you know this?"  Frank laughed.  "I saw my bud  pining
away, and I have a class with your blond adonis so, I started a
conversation.  He's very shy but... he's a good guy. By the way, he
checks out every guy's crotch."
"Hmmmm.  "  Hart looked at Frank.  "You have no interest?"  Frank shook
his head.
"You know how I like em.  Dark and hairy.  In fact, I gotta date with a
sophomore this afternoon who looks a bit like an ape.  He wrestles.  My
kinda guy. "  He dropped his voice.  "I'm gonna fuck him till he yells 'i
submit!"
Hart laughed.  He thought of doing that to Tom.

What followed was an elaborate courtship with Hart approaching Tom,
mentioning the self defense, and then lying about his abilities.  He
wanted to conquer Tom and he knew that this big hunk of blond hotness
would back away if he knew Hart were that much better.
In fact, Hart WASN'T  that much better.  Tom was just about on a par with
Hart and when they met for their first "sparring session," Hart
prevailed, but, as Tom grunted when he gave in.
"You cheated."  Tom was on his back, his wrists pinned down by Hart, and
they were both smiling.
"Yeah, I did.  That's what happens when your opponent is ticklish."
"I didn't even KNOW about that spot!"  During the spar, Hart had put his
hand right above Tom's waist on the right.  Tom dissolved into a fit of
giggles and then... it was over.
"You gotta promise not to do that if we go at it again, Hart."
Hart shook his head.  "NO PROMISES" and dug into the spot, until Tom was
begging him to stop.
Hart wanted to jerk off all over Tom , and shove his tongue down his
throat before he did.  It didn't happen during that sparring session, but
eventually, it did.   And then the blow jobs.  They had talked about that
during one of their walks through the school:  they became what was
clearly the "oddest couple" at the high school.  Tom was so deeply
closeted that Hart couldn't put his arm around him, and it killed him
that everything was in secret.  One day, before they started sparring, he
looked at Tom.
"Ross"  (Tom's last name), "we're gonna put something on the betting
table here.  You lose, you get one of two choices. Either you let me put
my arm on you tomorrow or...."  he grinned.  "You suck my cock."
Tom looked at him . "WHAT?  What kinda choice is that?"
"Of course...." Hart laughed.  "I COULD charge in and just tickle you
till you pee."
"NO.  NO.  Okay, okay.  It's a deal."
Twenty minutes later, Tom was giving his first blow job, and Hart finally
got his wish of cumming all over his blond boyfriend's face.
More blow jobs followed.  And then, Hart invited Tom to spend the night.
He planned to introduce Tom to the joys of anal sex that night.  He just
didn't tell Tom.  He didn't want him to freak out.
Tom DID freak out.  He went running from the house, and stopped talking
to Tom.  Just completely.   Didn't take his calls, ignored him, just
totally blew him off.
"Well, THAT worked well" Hart had told Frank after he gave him the whole
story.  "Such is what it is.  I'll get over it."
Except he never did.  He obsessed about Tom.  Tom knew Hart would follow
him around, but Hart never did anything that was grounds for a
complaint.  Hart tried to make up at graduation, but Tom kept his
distance.  Then, after they had started at different schools, Hart's
obsession led him to track Tom, to take a schedule of classes that
allowed him to follow Tom's movements, and to have plenty of jerk off
material.
"He's still so fucking hot," Hart whispered on the campus, more than
once.  Tom pretty much looked like an older, tieless version of himself,
and Hart still thought his ass was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

Hart's "moon viewing," as Frank called it (they kept in touch and
sometimes "hunted" together) had to come to an end when he failed out of
school and got the job at Mesmer.  Personnel had been very clear:
without a college degree, there was only so far they were willing to
advance him, and Hart got to that level in 3 years.  Senior officials
urged him to take night classes so that he could "advance," but Hart
LOVED the intersect between the tasks he did, and he loved having time to
continue to study Martial Arts and to have time to , as he would say
 "screw as many hot blonds as I can."  Hart wasn't a looker, that was for
sure;  but what he DID have was a thick, 9 inch cut piece of meat that
had a LOT of practice.  He was also exceptionally good at remembering
what his "dates" liked, and if he saw them a second time (which was
rare), he'd treat them to more of that.  Between the two colleges, the
Mesmer Corporation, traveling businessmen who were on the down low, he
had a very active sex life.  He picked up most of his guys at one club,
called "Mustang"  where the theme was a little rugged.  It wasn't a place
for the kind of guys Hart favored, unless of course they were looking for
the blue collar kind of guy Hart was.  And lots of them came.

One night, when Hart was hanging out, on his third beer, Tom came in.  He
was with a group of four guys:  all looked like geeky engineers, which
they were.  Tom had finished school and was working at Mesmer's
competition, on the other side of the city.   If he saw Hart, he never
acknowledged it, and the boys didn't stay long.  Hart was in a bit of an
alcoholic buzz, and when he closed his eyes, he remembered how Tom had
reacted when he tickled that spot over his waist, and what a good
cocksucker he was.   "I want that again," was all he thought.

Five years after he had been at Mesmer, Hart was on the loading dock
helping with a shipment, when he saw two "suits" he recognized walking in
to the building.  They were with a third guy:  blond, solid, short hair,
smiling.
"Holy shit, that's TOM", he thought.
"Hey, Gary, who's that guy.  He work here?"  Hart turned to the man
working on the dock with him.  Gary looked over.
"Not sure, but I know they were talking about hiring a junior exec for
chem engineering.  Guy is supposed to have great credentials.  Summa from
Alpha U, very dedicated to his work at his old job.  It was a real plum
to get him is what I heard.
"I'd say,"  Hart whispered.  Gary laughed.
"OH, NOW I get it.  He's your type."  Hart was out to everyone.  No one
minded.  He "kept his pickle in the jar" as one of his co-workers put it,
and everyone was happy.  Hart remembered that expression.  It might be
time to take that pickle out of the jar.

Management worked in a different section of the corporation than where
the logistics department and loading dock were, so it took a few months
before Hart and Tom crossed paths.  It was, in of all places, a men's
room.  Hart had been asked to come to a meeting to describe some facet of
the company's logistics, and after the meeting was over, he stopped to
piss.  He looked up and....

"Son of a gun.  It's Tommy Ross."  Tom looked up at him, puzzled.
"I'm sorry.  Do I know you?"  He wasn't faking.  Hart knew when a man was
faking.
"I'm Hart Collins.  Remember me from high school?"  Tom's skin was pale
to begin with.  It got even paler.
"I remember you.  You work here?"
"I do.  For the last five years.  Logistics.  Come and visit sometime."
He smiled.
"I'm really busy with learning what's going on here.  It's a big
complicated organization.  Nice to see you."  Tom moved to leave the
bathroom, and Hart put his arm up, blocking him.
"You still do martial arts, Tommy? I do."
"Please.  Can you put your arm down so I can leave?"
"Maybe we can spar again? That used to be fun."  Now color was returning
to Tom's face.
"I really need to go.  Please.  "  Hart smiled.
"Ok, Tommy.  Maybe I'll see you at Mustangs or something."
Now Tom's face got really red.  He blustered out.  "NO ONE calls me
Tommy.  That's a boy's name.  I'm Thomas.  Or Tom.  Or even better, Mr.
Ross."
Hart lowered his arm.  "See ya Tommy."  Tom hurried out, huffing as he
did.

"How am I gonna get him?  How am I gonna start this?  " This became
Hart's new mantra.  He stopped going to the bars, because he was
scheming.  He was learning all he could about Tom Ross.  He learned where
he lived, that he lived alone, and just like in college, he began
trailing him, only he was better at it this time.  Tom never knew he was
being followed.  He lived such a circumscribed life though, that getting
through to him that way, seemed not possible.   But an opportunity
presented itself, at Mesmer.

The word had gotten around:  Tom was a new star at the company.  One of
the reasons was his work ethic: he came in early and stayed late.
Sometimes, VERY late.  He was so well thought of that they even heard
about it in the logistics group.  One of the guys was commenting on some
of the idiosyncrasies  Tom had.  Like working until 10 on Tuesdays and
Thursdays, but ONLY on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
"Hmmm."  Hart began to think.  He formulated several plans, threw them
out and then... he decided to act.

It was a Thursday.  As the crew was getting set to go, one of them saw
that Hart was sticking around.
"Hey, you working an extra shift or something, Hart?"
"You could say that.  Tell the truth, someone in accounting wants some
furniture moved, and I told her I'd take care of it tonight, so I'm gonna
head up now."
"Sure, that's good thinking.  No one around at this hour.  Work in
peace.  Have a good night.  "
"You do the same Sammy."  As Sammy left, Hart was the last one in the
department.  The loading dock was slightly raised, so he could see the
employees heading out en masse, to their cars, to transportation, etc.
The very distinct form of Tom was not among them.
"Ok, here we go," Hart thought.  He took his "work bag," filled with
ropes and a gag.  That was all he wanted tonight.
The main elevator was not that far from Tom's office, so Hart took the
freight elevator and walked through the floor, making sure that no one
was around.  He did see a light at Tom's office:  GOOD.  He was still
here.  Now, where was the men's room? He remembered.  Then he checked,
moving slowly and carefully, until he found an open office halfway
between the men's room and Tom's office.  That's where he'd secrete
himself until Tom needed some "relief."
It took about an hour and a half.  He could hear Tom clear his throat,
his chair get pushed back and then he saw his prize get up and head
toward the men's room.   Tom's sleeves were pushed back.  He still wore
those stupid clip on ties, so it wasn't loosened, but it was thrown over
his shoulder.  And still:  those cheeks.  Hart felt his dick go rigid as
Tom walked past his hiding place to the bathroom.

He struck when Tom was heading back.  Clearly lost in thought, Tom didn't
hear Hart behind him, and was totally unprepared for the one arm around
his neck, and the hand over his mouth.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH"  he tried to scream as Hart pulled him into the
other office.
"I told you we'd see each other again, Tommy, I wasn't kidding."   By the
time he had Tom in the office, Hart had taken his forearm off Tom's neck
and was using it to pin his arms behind him.  Tom knew how to get out of
this kind of hold, but not if the guy had more skills than he did, and
Hart did.
"How about you just calm down while I get to work, handsome?"
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH"  Tom continued to struggle.  Hart had to take
the hand off his mouth in order to tie him up, and when he did, he
yelled, long and loud.  And there was no one to hear him but Hart.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HART?  YOU KNOW, ONCE I REPORT THIS, YOU'RE
A DEAD MAN."
"NAAAAAAAAAH, you're not gonna report it Tommy because I'm giving you
exactly what you want."
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT.  HEY!  "  Hart began to drag Tom
back to his office.
"Let's have some fun there.  "
"HEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPP"  Tom yelled one more time, before he
felt the duct tape go around his mouth.  His wrists were tied, and Hart
was strong.  He couldn't do anything as he got pushed into his office
chair.

"You know, Tommy, you're as hot as you were in college, maybe hotter,"
Hart was gleeful as he pushed Tom's head to the side and began licking
his neck and ear.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.  I don't remember you tasting this good, but it was
a long time ago, wasn't it?"
"mmmmmmmmmmmph"  One of Hart's hands was pushing Tom's neck to the side,
and the other was playing over his torso, finding puckers in the buttons
and just running up and down Tom.
"You see me that night in Mustang with your buds, Tommy?"  Tom tried to
shake his head no.  "Because I saw you.  And that's when I knew... you
were still available.. To ME"
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH"  Tom tried to scream and the tape held the sound
back.
"You still ticklish at that spot, Tommy?"  Tom's eyes widened.  He was.
"You don't have to tell me.  I'm gonna find out."  Tom felt himself
wrenched out of the chair and then dumped onto the floor on his back.
Hart straddled his chest.
"You always gave such GREAT blow jobs.  I bet you still do, stud." Tom
felt his nipples being pinched through his shirt.  He tried to buck Hart
off of him, but he wasn't strong enough and... he was getting aroused.
"I'm gonna need a souvenir of our encounter tonight, Tommy and I know
what it is..."  Hart smiled as he took Tom's clip on tie off.  He shoved
it in his pocket.
"I got plans for this, as you'll find out.  But for now..."  He began
opening Tom's shirt.
"GOD your chest looks as good as it always did.  And now, let's see."
Hart planted his thumb and and middle finger at the spot just above Tom's
waist that had always been ticklish.  Tom began to laugh and to writhe.
"AH.  So good to know.  SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  good to know  Tommy.  I can
still get my way just by doing that, right?"
Tom was laughing too hard to shake his head.  He couldn't really move,
and his cock was getting harder and harder.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH"  he screamed when Hart opened his
zipper.
"No penetration THIS time Tommy, but just know.... it's coming. For now,
just a little relief.  Like the good old days."  Tom whimpered as Hart
began stroking himself.
"OH, GEEZ TOMMY BOY.  You are still as hot as ever.  SO FUCKING HOT.  SO
GODDAMN FUCKABLE.  MOST BEAUTIFUL ASS IN CREATION.  BEAUTIFUL EYES. AND
TICKLISH.  YOU NEED TO ..... BE MY FUCKING BOTTOM!"  Hart exploded.  Cum
flew everywhere. Some was on Tom's face, and on his chest and his floor.
His shirt was stained and... he realized... so were his pants.  He had
cum during Hart's assault.  Hart saw the stain and smiled.
"Let's do this again, stud.  I'm gonna take off now so you can think
about it.  I didn't tie you all that tightly, and you'll work your way
out."  He took Tom's necktie out of his pocket.
"When I want you, you're gonna get an internal courier with this necktie
and you'll show up because... if you don't..." he grinned.  "I'll have to
come and find you."   Just before he left, he leaned down and kissed
Tom's forehead.
"Now THAT's something you never let me do, pretty Tommy.  I'm gonna do it
again."
It took Tom about an hour to get out of the ropes. Then he spent a half
hour thinking:  should he report this?  Hart had such a good reputation
at the company and ... no, he wasn't going to report it.  But he was
going to ignore it.
Or try to.  Three days later,  he received an internal piece of mail.  It
was the necktie.  There was a note attached:  "Mustang 8pm tonight."  Tom
gulped.  But he put his hand on his crotch.  He was hard.