Story – ‘Tim, the Ticklish Skater Punk’

This story’s always worth a re-post…

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I’d been watching him for several weeks now. Gliding by with his buddies he’d be, in a white T-shirt and khaki shorts, baggy, coursing elegantly over the corporate cement. I’d be hangin’ out on Saturdays, reading a novel, smoking cigarettes in the late spring warmth, thoroughly enjoying these young studs’ skate stunts (until the goddamn corporation cracked down later that year and put up signs and more security to drive them off). Several were quite nice-looking, but one stood out. About five-nine, jet-black hair of average length, heavy-boned frame, and, around his neck, oddly, a very-seventies shark tooth on a black leather cord. The young hunk was broad-shouldered and clearly well-built; he distracted me often from my book.

As I had decided to be more bold with my interest in good-looking, athletic, cocky young men, specifically desiring to explore my paternal disciplinary instincts, and the possibility of persuading one of these smirky, arrogant skatepunks into bondage and boyish tortures, I determined to strike up a conversation with this guy. . .eventually.

Weekend after weekend, the skatepunks did their moves. I did nothing.

But today, I’d noticed him looking over at me a few times, with what appeared to be. . .interest. (Naw, impossible. . .)

Then. . .suddenly, there he was, rocketing his board my way. My favorite skatepunk. When he got within twenty feet, I saw his eyes were locked on mine. . .he glided up, snapped the board’s end down suddenly, snagged his chariot up and padded over the grass to me.
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Story – ‘Revenge’ from ropejock.com

It began simply enough…

Back when I was a teenager there was this one friend of mine who was determined to try and nail me. He was convinced some day he was going to take me down in a wrestling match, despite the fact he was a little younger, a lot smaller, and a whole lot weaker. Hard farm work builds you tough and lasting. He was a city boy. But he was determined, I’ll give him that. Still, every time he jumped me, I would turn it on him, put him in a lock hold, twist him into some helpless pretzel and then grab him in the ribs until he turned red and cried tears of laughter and defeat crying “You win, you win!!”

Then at some point he decided he was going to finally get some revenge.
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Story – ‘Homecoming’ Part 2 from ropejock.com

I awoke with subdued lights around me. I sat up in bed, white sheets covering my naked body. I looked around and there were no restraints and no rubber suits. I swung my legs to the floor and walked to the window where twilight was beginning to wake the nighttime city. I was in my own bed, in my own apartment. I didn’t understand what was going on. I went to the bedroom door and into the lounge. The kitchen light was on I could hear voiced in quiet conversation. I’d forgotten my nakedness and went to the kitchen quietly and looked around the door.
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Story – ‘Homecoming’ Part 1 from ropejock.com

As consciousness returned, I remembered what had happened and tried to sit up – I couldn’t. I found I could barely move a muscle. My arms were tied tightly behind me; I felt something tied tight around my ankles, my knees and even my thighs. My wrists were secured and my elbows were pulled painfully tight together in the small of my back. My head was enclosed in something, the smell was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. My mouth felt stuffed full of something soft, springy but tough and I could barely swallow. The contraption blindfolded me – it must have been a hood of some sort over my head.
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