Ben is taken by Chicago’s best Ch. 01

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It was July of 1975, and I was a horny twenty-five-year-old twink on my very first trip to Chicago.

I’d spent a few days doing the whole touristy, sight-seeing thing. I’d done Michigan Avenue and State Street, Marshall Fields, the Chicago River, the Field Museum, the Art Institute, all this and more. But visiting museums and galleries and gawking at the city’s sights and spectacular architecture wasn’t enough to satisfy me.

After all, my friends back in Toronto had promised that the Windy City was the gay capital of the American mid-west. I’d seen plenty of well-built, corn-fed, manly men to be seen wandering its streets, but hadn’t managed to connect with a single one of them so far.

By Friday night, with just a few days left of my holidays and badly in need of a change of luck, I thought about what one of my friends back in Toronto had told me; no self-respecting leather man should leave Chicago without having visited the “Gold Coast”, the hottest bar in the Midwest.

Hoping the place would live up to its reputation, I spent time getting ready. I cleaned myself out with a drug store enema and pulled on my tightest black t-shirt, jockstrap, some well-worn 501 jeans and black boots, and put a leather arm band around my right bicep.

Eager to get to there but wary of arriving too early, I waited impatiently for midnight to arrive before striding out of my downtown hotel and grabbing a cab uptown. Twenty minutes later I found myself nervously following a pair of hot-looking men dressed in full leathers through the front door of the Holy Grail of leather bars; a place of dark corners, erotic wall murals, studly bartenders and sexy leather-clad customers.

Chicago was suffering through one of its insufferable July heat waves, turning the air in the place heavy, hot and sticky and almost overcoming the overworked air conditioning system. Like everyone around me, I started sweating like a pig and seeing that most of the guys were shirtless, I took mine off, hoping my skinny chest didn’t look too bad in comparison to all the big pectorals on display.

Looking around, there weren’t many other single guys like myself, since the crowd at what was still an early hour consisted mostly of couples or groups of friends gossiping with each other. Feeling that I stood out like a sore thumb, I bought a beer from a bare-chested barman and slunk into a corner to stare at the passing parade.

My friend in Toronto had been absolutely right about the place; there were guys in jockstraps and collars standing submissively at the side of their masters, other men ignoring the heat to wear full leathers and knee length boots, cocksuckers kneeling in dark corners, men submitting eagerly to tit torture; with the scent of poppers and the haze of cigar and cigarette smoke permeating the entire building.

I was certainly no stranger to leather bars, but this was a place of splendour. As I stared around, checking for the guys showing keys or hankies on their left hips, a friendly guy my own age, came over to talk and, as he freely admitted, to check out the competition!

Which made sense since we looked so alike; both of us tall, dark and slim, twenty-something, blue-eyed white boys. My new friend, who told me his name was Eddy, said I had an advantage over him; I was the new guy in town, the new shiny object, the “fresh meat”; unlike Eddy who claimed to have been picked over by half the bar’s regulars!

I might have been “fresh meat”, but I was far from the hottest guy around. In contrast to all the big chested blondes of Scandinavian descent with their pumped-up biceps and pecs and leather-clothed thighs, I weighed in at 160 pounds on a skinny six-foot frame, with wide shoulders tapering down to a thin waist and a plump little bum. The Freddie Mercury-style mustache and dark brown hair on my head, cropped short even in those long-haired days, was the only hair on my body, other than the treasure trail around my groin.

Once Eddy and I started to talk, it was obvious we weren’t rivals; while I was looking out for older, mature, leather men, he was searching for guys close to our own age. Once that was sorted out, he suggested we go find a better corner to stand so he could point out some of his one-night tricks and give me the low-down.

Concentrating on listening to his gossip as we made our way over to an empty corner I didn’t look where I was going and somehow managed to barge into a hot older man. Overcome with embarrassment, I mumbled my apologies, only for him to tell me it was nothing and say hello to Eddy before he walked away.

I felt even more stupid about the encounter when Eddy told me the guy was a leather top who loved having boys suck his cock. I tried to put the guy out of my mind and to concentrate on listening to Eddy’s stories, and as time ticked by, there were more and more mid-western hunks being added to the bar’s delightful mixture, many in full leathers while others were in shorts or jocks, jeans and bare chests, or harnesses and collars.

It was a mostly white crowd, but there was canlı bahis a smattering of super-sexy black guys hanging around, especially in one group standing near Eddy and I. Aware of far better-looking white boys than me in the room, I was very surprised when the youngest and hottest guy in the group seemed to be returning my admiring gaze and began edging towards me through the crowd.

However, once this totally hot guy came close, I realised it was Eddy he was interested in, not me. Understandably, my new friend stopped gossiping with me and turned his sole attention to the handsome stud! And not wanting to get in his star-struck way, I quietly edged away and began a serious search for a special older man of my own for the night.

It had been some older men who’d brought me out at college as both gay and as a BDSM submissive. Partly as a result of that history I’d remained more interested in older guys than younger, however butch and dominating the latter were. I was always careful to see if any older guys were showing any interest in me, which had usually served me well in the years since. Checking out this crowd, I noted quite a few sexy-looking, mature guys, most of whom seemed, sadly, to be coupled up with studs their own age or with boys even younger than me.

Still, with quite a few unattached attractive men in leather or denim hanging around, I cruised around, hoping to catch someone’s eye. And as I did so, there was the same forty-something guy that I’d almost knocked to the floor a few minutes before. Peering through the thick haze of cigarette and cigar smoke, I tried to check him out more thoroughly.

I liked his sexy mouth, his deep-set eyes and prominent nose. He stood about six feet tall, with a big barrel chest and comfortably thick waist, plus a thick mat of black chest hair half hidden by a black leather bar vest. He wore blue jeans under leather chaps and engineer boots; all in all, just my type!

Even though I figured I’d blown my chances with him by my clumsiness, I found him so attractive that I kept staring in his direction while he chatted with some friends. That was, I kept looking until, all of a sudden, he stared right back at me. Having just made the same mistake with Eddy’s hot stud, I glanced behind me, sure he was eyeing someone else. But there was no one else in his line of sight, and when I turned back, his eyes were still locked on mine and he was grinning broadly.

That made me blush at being caught out, and greatly relieved to see him turn his attention back to his friends. He had me frazzled and uncertain; was he interested or was he just playing with me? I went to get another beer and by the time I returned to where I’d been standing before, he’d moved away from his friends and was chatting to a sexy young man in a leather chest harness and bare-assed chaps.

Thinking how stupid I’d been to get my hopes up, I cruised around the bar for a few minutes and ended up squeezing into a spot against the wall, in between a couple of guys already leaning there. Which turned out to be a mistake, since one of them apparently thought I was interested and was making a move on him. Without saying a word, he turned towards me and started feeling me up, rubbing a hand up and down my naked chest, twisting my nipples and fondling my bum.

I was no shrinking violet and I’d let more than my fair share of overbearing bastards take advantage of me over the years, but there was something about this guy that put my back up straight away. I should have liked him; after all he was a well-built guy in his forties, and not bad looking, but still, he somehow managed to piss me off.

So, when, without asking, he popped the buttons on my 501’s and shoved his hand down the back of my jeans to finger my crack, I told him to fuck off and walked away. I walked around for a few minutes to calm down, hoping to find a better alternative, and was surprised to run into the older man I’d just been mooning over. There was the same knowing grin on his face when he spoke.

“Weren’t you hanging around with Eddy just now? Has he got plans for you later? That’s one boy who really gets around.”

Oh fuck, I thought; another stud interested in Eddy, not me. But, with nothing to lose and hoping for the best, I put my cards on the table.

“Oh no, some hot young stud picked him up; he’s much too young for me. I prefer older men myself.”

He smiled at my transparent attempt to get him interested.

“You new in town? I’m a regular here and I haven’t seen you before. You were like a deer caught in the headlights when I was looking at you just now. So, does that mean I’m the kind of older man you prefer?”

Somehow, I managed to garble something to the effect that, yes, Sir, I thought he was very sexy.

He smiled again and asked where I was from, since my “funny accent” meant it couldn’t be anywhere near Chicago.

I began chattering nervously about how I was originally from England but now lived in Toronto and how much I loved what I’d seen of Chicago so far. But while I was telling him bahis siteleri my name was Ben Davis and how hot I thought the Gold Coast was, it became obvious that he’d stopped paying attention to my gabbling. Instead, he edged forward and leant into me with all his weight, pressing me up against the wall.

Just a few minutes before I’d stomped off like a princess at having someone put his hands on me, but now, I stood stock still, loving the feeling of this guy’s hands wandering over my chest and stomach, tweaking my nipples and reaching down between my legs to feel my dick.

“Geez, you’re one scrawny punk; I can count every one of your goddam ribs. There’s not an ounce of fat on you.”

“Yea, well, I hate being this skinny, but however much I eat, I don’t seem to put on any weight.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I like my boys tall, skinny and smooth. Twenty years ago, when I was in the service, I was a scrawny beanpole just like you.”

His hand, which had been gently rubbing my stomach moved up to squeeze my nipples; starting out soft but getting harder and harder once he saw how excited it got me. Keeping me pinned against the wall by the weight of his body, he played with mine in a mutual silence punctuated only by my quiet moaning and his heavy breathing.

“Christ, you blush like a choirboy caught reading Playboy! Tell me kid, are you just here slumming it on your vacation, and you’d usually be disco dancing with a bunch of your sissy friends back home? Or do you want the real thing with a real man?”

“Yes, I do sir, I’ve been with real men before and I know I can take it.”

“Well, from the way your dick’s throbbing, you might be telling the truth.”

Bringing his hand up to my mouth, he pushed his fingers between my lips and sawed them back and forth, right to the back of my throat, testing my gag reflex, making me tear up and forcing me to close my eyes. When he eventually withdrew his fingers, I guessed I’d passed the first test, since he leant in even closer and whispered in my ear.

“So, you when were staring at me just now, you probably saw the handcuffs, but did you notice what was in my left back pocket?”

“Yes, sir, it was a yellow hanky. Piss is one of my favourite tastes. I’d love to taste yours, sir.”

“That’s good to hear, but in the meantime, I want that tongue of yours working on something else.”

He held one arm up above his head and I immediately pressed my face into his sweaty armpit, licking it clean while murmuring with delight as my tongue slid up and down the hairy surface. Once I switched over to do the same job on his other one, he held my chin in his hand and grinned.

“Not bad, now get down and show me how good you are at sucking cock.”

He pushed down on my shoulders and I slid down the wall behind me to my knees while he was pulling his dick out of his pants. I started on his big hairy balls, giving them a quick once-over before gently licking the underside of his cock as it bobbed up and down in front of my face. But soon he sped things up by grabbing hold of my head, shoving his good-sized prong all the way to the back of my throat and keeping it there.

Now he’d established who was boss, I was allowed to work more methodically and rhythmically, swallowing his cock to the back of my throat then periodically pulling off to lick his big low hanging balls. Before long I could taste a steady stream of precum leaking down my throat, warning me that he might be near to popping.

But anyone could have told you that cumming this early in the evening was not on the cards, so it came as no surprise when he pulled out, patted me on the head and told me to get up.

As I tried to rise to my feet, I felt a heavy hand pressing down on my shoulder and heard the voice of the guy I’d got away from just a few minutes before.

“How about letting me get some of that? This punk ticked me off just now, but maybe he can say sorry with his mouth? If you’re finished with him, how about giving me a turn, OK?”

“Well, no I don’t think so, man. I’ve got plans for him and they don’t include whoring him out to anyone walking by.”

The prick snorted with angry disgust and strode away, leaving me wondering what plans “My guy” had for me. But when I tried to rise up off my knees, he put a hand on my shoulder and shoved his cock back in in my face.

Thinking I was supposed to get sucking again, I eagerly put my lips around it, and was surprised instead by a mouthful of hot beery piss. Aware he was testing me, I swallowed as fast as I could, and managed to keep up with the stream until it slowed to a trickle and he pulled out to spray the last few drops on my face.

He leant down towards me, staring into my eyes while gripping my chin in his hand.

“You look like a fucking choir boy, but you act like a perverted son of a bitch. Listen, kid, if you want to get tied up, pissed on, have your arse beaten and suck my dick till your throat is raw, then come with me. Make your mind up, I’m not gonna wait all night.”

He turned on his heel bahis şirketleri and without bothering to check that I was following, pushed his way through the packed crowd, getting halfway across the bar before turning to stare into my eyes.

Seeing that I was following close behind, he turned around without another word and headed towards the exit. But as he did so, a hand came out of the crowd and grabbed his shoulder. It was one of the guys I’d seen him talking to earlier; a stocky, dark-complexioned, heavily bearded man, dressed from head to toe in black leather.

“What the fuck, Henry, leaving already, you old cunt? You get all dressed up and drive down here and then you fuck off an hour after you arrive? What’s your hurry? Why not hang around for a while; this skinny punk can wait. Put him on hold and stay for another beer. If he fucks off on you there’s lots more where he came from.”

My Sir snorted with laughter at the guy, who was obviously an old friend.

“Yeah, sure, that’s your motto; stick around waiting for that one perfect hot guy who you never actually seem to find. And later, when this skinny punk is sucking my cock and soaking in my piss, you’ll be sitting on your couch with nothing but a dirty mag in one hand and your dick in the other.”

His friend laughed at what was obviously a regular joke between them.

“All right, Henry, I guess this one’s a bit cuter than the losers I’ve been taking home lately. Go on, buzz off, you have my permission to do the dirty with skinny pants here.”

Henry snorted with pretend annoyance and told me to go wait near the exit while he spoke to his friend. From the way they were grinning and laughing as they stared at me, I figured their conversation was mostly about what would happen to me when he got me home!

As I stood waiting, I began to wonder if I was being stupid and careless about possible danger. Everything had moved very fast and after just a few minutes I was putting myself in this stranger’s hands and letting myself in for God knows what.

I wasn’t a delicate creature who’d never been out on the prowl and I regularly let myself get tied up and worked over. But when I sucked and got fucked, I usually had some idea who the guy was or knew someone who could vouch for him. But this was a strange city and a total stranger, whose name I’d learnt only a minute before!

While the rational side of my brain was telling me to be careful, the taste of dick and piss on my tongue and the overpowering scent of leather, sweat, testosterone and poppers in the air told me a different story. And of course, that story and the effect it had on my dick easily won the argument.

I followed him out of the bar into the hot and muggy Chicago night, and trotted submissively behind him for a few minutes, until he turned a corner onto a dark side street where he’d parked a big old Lincoln sedan.

Once we were both sitting on its front bench seat, he ordered turn my back towards him and put my wrists together behind me. Aware that this was my last chance to turn back, I didn’t hesitate to obey him and was rewarded with the feeling of cuffs being snapped on my wrists.

A moment later, when he undid the buttons of his jeans and fished out his half-hard cock, I didn’t wait for his permission before I lunged across the seat and swallowed his hardening dick back down my throat.

He kept hold of my ears with an iron grip while I sucked and licked him; but then just like he had back in the bar, pulled out before he got too excited and stuffed himself back in his pants.

He pushed me back up to a sitting position, opened the glove box and picked out a pair of small but exquisitely painful tit clamps. I sat back enjoying the taste of a hot man’s cock on my tongue and the lingering memory of piss, with my wrists cuffed behind me and clamps on my tits; this was all I could have wished for more when I set out that evening for the Gold Coast. He held my chin in his hand and stared into my eyes.

“Listen to me. You seem like a smart kid and as long as you behave yourself, I’ll make sure you have a good time. But I warn you, this’ll be a long night. I work midnight shifts from Sundays to Thursdays and don’t bother changing my schedule on the weekend. So, this is daytime for me, which means you’ll be awake for hours yet.”

He started the car and drove off, with me staring out of the window at a city I didn’t know, wondering if I’d been right to trust him. I was in handcuffs, being driven somewhere by a man I’d just met, with no idea what he was going to do to me, other than it was going to take all night! A sensible young man should have been frightened, but this horny young slut couldn’t wait for it all to happen.

After fifteen minutes or so, we arrived in a residential neighbourhood, and turned down a short dead-end street, ending up at the last house on the block. He parked the car beside an attached garage and turned to unclip the tit clamps and stow them away, while I sat grunting with pain as the blood came rushing back. He got out, pulled me from the car and propelled me through a small side door into what had once been a garage but was now a workshop, furnished sparsely with tool cabinets, a work bench, an old fridge, and a couple of ratty old armchairs.

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