Chapter One: The Encounter

"This is not going to be fun", I said to myself as the deluge began.

My bike ride had started nearly two hours earlier in San Francisco under a clear sky. Rain was not in the forecast so I had no qualms about heading north of the Golden Gate. I was about thirty miles into my ride, in a very remote and uninhabited part of Marin County. I had been fighting a lycra induced hard on for three miles and didn't notice when the first ominous clouds blew in from the Pacific. I turned to head home when the heavens opened.

I was wearing lycra tights with a chamois insert, so I was not wearing shorts underneath, and I had a windbreaker over my snug jersey. I was dressed for cool weather, but not for rain. My upper body was pretty well protected, but I quickly became soaked from the waist down. I pedaled hard, trying to stay warm, but it was futile. The rain was overwhelming. Spotting a large tree up ahead, I stopped to enjoy at least a partial shelter and hoped the storm would soon let up. Damn weather man.

I drank some water and tried to shield myself from the wind. The gusts blew across my soaked crotch and stimulated my cock. I looked down at the bulge and beyond to my legs. I�m in fairly good shape and I thought I looked good for someone my age. At least I turned myself on. My tights were wet and covered with mud splattered up by the front wheel, and I suddenly felt very sexy. I really have a thing for lycra.

For most of my life, I�ve been turned on by tight, stretchy clothing. I�m married to a wonderful woman and have two children, but I�m easily aroused at the sight of someone in tights � man or woman. Whenever I see a man in tights it turns me on, not because I want to do something to or with that man, but because I want to be that man in those tights. The thought of being entrapped in lycra is a part of my most glorious fantasies.

I began cycling as an adult about 14 years ago, when I was in my early 30�s, as a way of getting back into shape. I have to admit that some of the cycle clothing was a turn on, but I was so self-conscious about my desire for lycra that I eschewed formal bicycle clothing at first. I didn�t have the nerve to wear it in public. However, it didn�t take long for me to realize that my favorite fabric was in fact a practical necessity for bicycling. The only reason I enjoy riding on cold days now is because I have to wear my tights. I particularly enjoy the tights with a chamois insert because I can wear them without cycling shorts or underwear. Normally, that�s as close as I come to being an exhibitionist.

So, I stood by the road, enjoying the sight of myself in wet lycra, feeling my nipples harden and watching my most intimate riding companion stiffen in the wind. What the hell, there�s no one around. I turned my back to the road, closed my eyes and began to squeeze and rub my bulging lycra covered cock, tending to my nipples with my other hand. My gentle rubbing made me forget, for the moment, that I was cold and miserable. My cock stiffened straight up inside its lycra bondage and I could only feel ecstasy. I prolonged my pleasure for several minutes. I was unaware of the cold, the wind, the rain, . . . or the car pulling up behind me.

"Can I give you a hand?" said the voice behind me, shattering the moment. I turned to see the smiling face of a young man who had stopped his car and rolled down his window. I embarrass easily and my face felt like it was purple. "What?" I stammered.

"Can I give you a hand?" he repeated. "You know - - with your bike?" The young man had a peculiar grin on his face, making it clear he had seen quite a bit. He also had a bike rack on the roof of his car, and his offer of help seemed genuine. I barely hesitated to take him up on the offer. I asked him if he could get me somewhere out of the storm. He told me to hop in as he got out to secure my bike to his rack. Back in the car, he introduced himself.

"Hi, my name is Greg."

"I�m Chris, and you are a lifesaver."

"Think nothing of it. Where do you live?"

"In the city," I told him. "I was just heading back when the rain started."

"I got my ride in at dawn because of the updated weather report" he said a bit smugly.

"I guess I missed that."

"Well," Greg went on "I live just up the road. You�re welcome to come dry off until this storm passes over."

Greg was a good looking young man, with sandy hair, blue eyes, and a winning smile that was reassuring. He looked to be about an inch or two shorter than me - maybe 5� 9". I guessed he was in his mid-20�s but I can be terrible with ages. He could have been younger and he could have been in his 30�s. I have a friend who looked so young that he got carded once when he was 35. That waitress got a BIG tip. Anyway, I was quite grateful for his offer and eagerly took him up on it. I didn�t care what he had seen me doing.

"Buckle up," he said. He noticed me struggling with the seat belt and said, "It�s probably stuck. Let me help." He reached across my lap with his right arm, leaning right into my swollen cock, and released the belt from the floor. His left hand suddenly plunged between my legs as he lost his balance, his fist tantalizingly close to my crotch. My bulge suddenly grew some more. "Man, you are really soaked!" Greg said as he rubbed the inside of my thigh. As he pulled up his hand, the tip of his thumb flicked the tip of my stiffening cock. I tried to keep from passing out. "Oops, sorry," he said.

"No problem," I said, immediately pondering what Greg might read into that response. I didn�t know if he was clumsy or coming on to me. I�m pretty dense about those things. Quite a few women (and a few men) have made passes at me during my life, but I often don�t figure it out until my wife tells me what they were doing. I couldn�t figure this kid out. Living in San Francisco, we have several gay friends. Some strike you as gay at first glance while others - well - you just figure it out eventually. I was getting no vibrations from Greg. If he wasn�t gay, then he was the most uninhibited, sexually secure, clumsy heterosexual I had ever met.

Greg straightened up and began driving home. I was embarrassed at my sexual tension but there wasn�t much I could do about it. I saw Greg smirk as he glanced at my crotch. My cock stiffened even more from the attention.

"Lycra!" said Greg.

"Excuse me" I replied.

"Lycra - it does the same thing to me, all the time." Greg continued with matter of fact ease in explaining how lycra really turned him on, and that he sometimes had to stop on his bike rides to satisfy himself. This was a very personal disclosure from such a complete stranger and I appreciated his candor. My embarrassment was gone for the moment. After driving a few minutes up a small road, Greg turned into a dirt driveway. "The house is just up ahead. It�s pretty secluded." Greg helped me put my bike in the garage and we did a quick cleaning job on it before going into the house.

"Bathroom�s right in there. Why don�t you take a hot shower while I build a fire."

I stripped out of my wet clothing, particularly enjoying the ritual of peeling off wet lycra. The hot shower was just what I needed at this point and I savored it for a long time. Completely rejuvenated, I finally turned off the water and began to dry off. I noticed that my wet bicycle clothing had disappeared from the bathroom floor. Greg, hearing that the water had stopped, knocked on the bathroom door and told me he had put my clothing in the washing machine.

"Thanks," I hollered. "Gentle cycle, right?"

"Of course," he said.

I finished drying myself and stepped into the living room wearing only the towel and stopped dead in my tracks. Greg was wearing light gray lycra tights with white socks that came half way up the calf. I really love the sight of smooth lycra legs coming out of fluffy white socks. He appeared to be wearing a matching long sleeve lycra top as well, topped off with a sleeveless blue sweatshirt. His sweatshirt was cut short to about the navel and the tight lycra left little to the imagination � front or rear.

"Hi. Are you feeling better?" said Greg, nonchalantly.

I hesitated and then stammered, "Uh, yea - yea, thanks."

I felt an ominous sensation in my groin. Greg was in good shape and looked terrific in those tights. I had a powerful need to be similarly attired.

"Want some coffee?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied. Greg reached to a high shelf for coffee mugs, the bottom hem of his shirt rising further up his back. All of that lycra and his magnificent body were getting to me. "That�s quite an outfit," I said.

Greg turned around, sensing my bewilderment. He smiled and told me that he liked to wear lycra around the house. "It�s really comfortable," he said, raising his sweatshirt to give me a full view of his torso.

"Sounds great," I said.

Greg�s lycra nipples were projecting like beacons above his flat stomach and slender waist, and my nipples hardened at the sight. And Greg was right about lycra giving him a turn on. He was bulging. Greg saw the longing in my face, as well as the sudden protrusion sticking up under my towel and said, "I didn�t mean to be rude. I�ve put out some things for you to wear in the bedroom, or you can just wear a robe if you prefer. It�s on the bed, too."

I entered the bedroom and couldn�t believe my eyes. On the bed I saw royal blue lycra tights, a matching long sleeve lycra top, a white sleeveless sweatshirt, and white socks. I glanced at the robe and thought long and hard before I decided to dress like Greg. I felt dizzy as I slowly encased myself in the stretchy fabric. My state of arousal was nearing a record high. I put on the white socks, caressing each leg at the same time. I carefully pulled on the sweatshirt, taking time to tease my nipples with the backs of my fingers as I pulled the shirt down. My cock was hard as a rock inside it�s lycra prison. I couldn�t help but wonder what was going on and where this scene was headed. I walked out into the living room.

"I thought you�d go for it," said Greg. "You look great. Let�s sit down in front of the fire."

The downpour had slowed to a gentle rain, making the fire all the more inviting. We sat next to each other on a sofa that faced the fireplace, our smooth, shiny legs propped up on the coffee table, almost touching. We drank coffee and talked about our fascination with lycra, and the wonderful sensation it provides of touching you all over. We both loved the added sensitivity it gave to critical parts of our bodies, especially the way in can transform genitals into a smooth, stretchy little ball just waiting to be squeezed. I told him I especially liked the way skin looked in lycra when it was slapped. I slapped the side of my thigh to demonstrate. He smiled and nodded in agreement. We talked about our favorite lycra-clad action heroes and our favorite scenes from movies and comic books. We had a lot in common. Greg and I were both aroused and I realized that we were both rubbing our cocks sort of absent-mindedly. Just then, the front door opened and my cock went limp. It was another young man, about Greg�s age (whatever it was). He was a bit taller than Greg, probably my height. He had a darker complexion, brown hair and warm, brown eyes.

"Well, what have we here?" he said.

"Hi Brian," shouted Greg as he jumped up to greet the new arrival. He grabbed Brian�s head in his hands and kissed him on the mouth. Well, maybe they�re Sicilian. Brian reached around and put his hands on Greg�s buttocks, pressing him in tighter. They kissed affectionately. Well, that answered that question, although they still could be Sicilian. Greg introduced his house mate to me. Brian was quite friendly as well, giving me a long handshake. He didn�t seem to be a bit disturbed at seeing Greg and me like this. Greg quickly told Brian about the events that had brought me to their home. I was suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious in my lycra tights, but Greg put my mind at ease. "Brian�s into lycra, too. Speaking of which, Brian, why don�t you make yourself comfortable."

"Terrific idea. Open me a beer while I�m changing."

Minutes later, Brian emerged in the uniform of the day, except his lycra was bright red and his sweatshirt light gray. He looked as good in lycra as Greg did, and he was just as turned on. He joined us in front of the fire and Greg brought him up to date about our lycra conversation. We continued to explore the subject and it didn�t take long before we segued to restriction and bondage.

I had never discussed bondage with anyone except my wife, and was amazed at how easily I could converse with these strangers. I told them that I had actually gotten my wife to tie me up once, but her heart wasn�t in it. My wife is a loving, sweet and innocent women, and I had decided not to push bondage with her anymore. I�m also a faithful husband, so my bondage needs had to come at my own hands. I�ve been able to achieve a certain level of bondage satisfaction by myself, but I have never been completely satisfied because I�ve always been in control and I didn�t want to do anything unsafe. I admitted to them that I yearned to be bound up while wearing lycra and be sexually aroused and tormented for a long, long time, but I didn�t see how it would ever happen.

Greg and Brian looked at each other thoughtfully for a minute and then excused themselves, going into the bedroom. They were both in the bedroom alone for several minutes before they emerged. They had removed their sweatshirts and looked like a couple of turned on lycra super heroes. They sat down on either side of me and propped their legs up on the table next to mine, both pressing in firmly against me. My heart rate jumped and I went from semi to full erection instantly. I could feel my face flush.

Greg asked me how soon I had to be home. I explained that I had a few days off and that my family was out of town. In other words, I�m flexible. "Chris, we have a proposition for you."

Before I could respond, their hands were on the inside of my thighs, stroking up toward my crotch. My cock surged against the tight lycra as I gulped, looked Greg in the eyes and said, "What?"

"First of all, we want you to know that we are both gay."

"You�re kidding," I dead-panned.

They smiled appreciatively at my humor. "We�re not out to change your lifestyle," Greg continued, "but it�s clear that you�ve led a sheltered life and we�d like to help you out. All we ask is that you help us in return. We belong to a small club of people with similar interests in lycra and bicycling. We�re having a meeting tomorrow morning and Brian and I are making a little presentation. We could use your help. If you�ll agree to help us out, we�ll help you fulfill your bondage needs in safety and style."

I felt like I had been slugged and the wind knocked out of me. I have sometimes wondered about my arousal at men in tights. Was it really nothing more than my desire to be encased in tights myself, or an indication that I might be bi-sexual. I�ll admit that a part of me has always been curious about having sex with a man, perhaps because I�ve had so much sex with myself. But I have never seen a man that I wanted to have sex with. Sure, I get aroused when I see Dean Cain in his Superman suit, but I�ve never felt an urge to be in bed with him. I just want his suit (and maybe his body, too).

My wife and I once had a hypothetical discussion about the definition of infidelity, and whether or not any sexual encounters outside of marriage could ever be acceptable. At one point, she offered that it would not devastate her if I had an affair with a man because he would obviously be fulfilling a need for me that she couldn�t. God, I love that woman. As I said, it was all hypothetical and it had never occurred to me that it might happen some day. I would never be unfaithful to my wife by seeking sexual favors from another woman, so if I was going to fulfill my needs it would have to be alone or with another man. Or, perhaps, two young men. My head was spinning as I looked over these two attractive hunks who had so much in common with me. I seemed to be at a moment of truth. "I�m listening" I said.

Greg explained how he and Brian were both into lycra and bondage. They both enjoyed being in control as well as being submissive, and they liked to take turns tormenting each other, sometimes for hours, loving every minute.

"I don�t know," I said. I was losing my courage.

"You�d be doing us a favor," said Brian. "We�re both in a dominant mood today. We really need someone like you."

I was having trouble breathing and was helpless to refuse. I didn�t even ask what they wanted me to do the next day for their presentation. At this point, I would have said yes to anything. Besides, they needed me, right? We discussed some basic rules of bondage and some of the things that really turned us on, and they told me to pick a safe word for when I wanted to say "no" for real. I though for a moment, looking at Brian in his red lycra, and could only think of Captain Marvel. I told them my safe word would be "Shazam." They did a double take and we laughed. We agreed to go ahead.

"When do we start?" I asked.

"Now," said Brian. "Empty your bladder" said Greg. "You may be tied up for awhile." My cock stiffened with excitement.

I had mixed feelings of exhilaration and fear as I returned from the bathroom to find them standing in the center of the room. They were both fit and trim. Their legs showed the results of serious cycling and their upper bodies indicated some consistent but not overdone attention. Their supple muscles, nipples and cocks radiated passion. They handed me two peculiar looking leather straps with fur lining and told me to put them on. "Where," I said. They laughed and helped me strap on the wrist cuffs. They had D-rings and I knew what those were for. Two more leather cuffs were given to me and I correctly guessed that they went on the ankles. When the cuffs were in place, they put small locks on each of them.

My hands were secured behind me and I was pushed to my knees by Greg. Standing behind me, Greg pushed me down to a squatting position and I could feel his cock touching the back of my head. I was staring right at Brian�s cock in front of me. "This isn�t happening," I thought. Speaking to each other as if I wasn�t even there, Greg said, "Brian, I think we�re ready. Shall we?" With that, they moved closer together to kiss and embrace each other with me in between. My face turned sideways for air and each ear received a full court press from their genitals. They pressed in with their whole bodies and squirmed a bit, then backed away. I couldn�t believe that had just happened. I didn�t know what to think, but my cock was a 10 on the rigid scale. Brian looked down into my eyes and said, "Chris, if you cooperate fully you will experience the orgasm of your life."

"I really appreciate this," I said.

"It�s our pleasure," said Greg. "Besides, Brian and I have a few new bondage ideas that we�ve been afraid to try on each other."

I turned to look into his face, to see if he was joking, but he put a lycra hood over my head and I was raised to my feet again. Greg grabbed me around the waist and pressed his body into my backside, my bound hands forced to cup his genitals. Brian tenderly caressed me on the front, starting just below my neck and eventually moving down my torso and legs, coming close but never touching my nipples or cock. It was a devastating tease. Excited and aroused beyond belief, I was led into another room, wondering at what I had gotten myself into.

Chapter Two: The Chamber

I could see bright lights through the lycra hood, but could not make out any shapes. I was told to stand very still. I could feel two strands of rope being threaded down between my back and my bound arms, looping around to the front, down between my legs on either side of my cock, back up and around to the front, looping through the front stands and then I began to lose track. I could feel the rope tightening in my crotch, around my waist, criss-crossing my back and my torso close to the nipples, going down and around my legs, tight around my knees and finally down to and tightly around my ankles. All of the touching from their hands and the rope was driving me to ecstasy and I was breathing faster. I felt more helpless than I ever have in my life, and I loved it.

I heard a cranking noise as I was lifted up slightly. My toes were barely touching the floor. My hood was removed and I could see myself in a large mirror about 10 feet away. It was an extraordinary sight. I was covered with rope in predominantly diagonal patterns, almost as if I had become tangled in a giant spider web. I was in what appeared to be a cage that was about 12 feet high. It was bolted to the floor and there appeared to be no front or back - only the sides and the roof. It was 3 feet wide and 3 feet deep. There were many cross bars and convenient rings for tying. The ropes pulling me up went through a pulley at the top of the cage, then down to a hand operated winch. Greg attached my bound ankles to a hook on the floor with a length of rope, leaving about 12 inches of slack. He stood in front of me and slowly stroked my nipples with the backs of his hands for several minutes, until I was good and hard, and then backed away. Brian then cranked the winch, raising me until I was pulled taut between floor and ceiling. My entrapment complete, I looked at myself in the mirror and couldn�t believe how hot I was from seeing myself like that. I looked down at my body, so beautifully encased in the blue lycra and white rope, and suspended so exquisitely in the cage, my useless hands still bound behind me. It easily matched the most provocative scenes I could remember from super-hero comics except I was the star. I started to cry. Seeing my tears, Greg moved in close and whispered, "You OK? Remember your safe word."

I smiled slightly and said, "No problem. Go for it."

I was eagerly anticipating the expected fondling and teasing that was to come. My raging hard on would soon find relief. However, Greg and Brian moved away and swung the previously unseen front and back portions of the cage into place and locked them. "See you later," Greg said.

"No, god no. Please, don�t leave me now. Please." I pleaded, I begged, I looked at myself in the mirror, completely suspended in air in the middle of a small jail cell, turned on like I had never been turned on before and totally helpless to do anything about it. The frustration was magnificent.

I squirmed and strained at my bondage in total futility. When I squirmed hard enough, one or both nipples would rub a part of the rope. It made me squirm and struggle even more. After about 10 or 15 minutes of this, I heard some muffled comments of approval, telling me that Brian and Greg were still in the room watching me. I continued to struggle at my bonds, trying for any stimulation I could give to my frustrated sexual hunger. After a while I had to stop squirming from exhaustion. Brian and Greg opened the cage, front and rear, and came in. I was grabbed around the legs and Greg asked if I was comfortable.

"Right," I replied.

"Don�t be sarcastic," he said, slapping my leg.

Greg told Brian how turned on I was when my lycra thigh was slapped. "You mean, like this?" said Brian as he slapped my thigh. Then he wondered out loud if having my ass slapped would turn me on. "Let�s find out," he said. "Greg, you hold him steady in front." Greg pressed up against me and wrapped his arms around the top of my legs, just below my ass. My firm cock was pressed into his stomach. "Now", he said.

I received a sharp slap of the hand on my butt and my cock surged in reaction. "Mmm, he likes it" said Greg. Brian gave me several more swats, each a little stronger, as Greg monitored my reactions.

Finally, I interrupted them and asked if I was being spanked for punishment. Brian said, "No. It just turns us on."

"Glad to be of help," I answered.

My ass was slapped once more, followed by gentle massaging. "Let�s slap his thighs again," said Greg. They took turns as we all enjoyed the look of my thighs in lycra reacting to the slaps. Slowly, the hands continued up my thighs on the inside until they were perilously close to my cock and balls. The first gentle slap to my balls was more of a tease than anything else. Then my cock received a pat, then a stronger one, and another, growing stiffer with each strike. Brian took over and built up speed until it was like playing bongo drums. This gives a whole new slant to the phrase "beating your meat." My cock oozed with delight.

Brian asked me if I had had enough, and I said "Yes. That was great. Thank you."

"Well, I haven�t had quite enough yet," he responded. With that I received an even more intense drum roll straight across my cock and balls. It was not really painful, but just thinking of the potential caused me to scream in blissful agony. I contorted my body violently, then groaned with pleasure as a tender hand lovingly caressed my distressed member. I was soothed and hot once more, moaning for satisfaction. "Please, no more," I said. "I�ll do anything you ask. Just don�t do that again."

Brian said, "But you�re already doing everything we ask." With that he gave me several more hard pats on the cock and balls, asserting his authority.

We had actually planned that dialogue. It was a real turn on to me. They told me to use it whenever I wanted. This seemed as good a time as any.

I was repositioned in the cage so that I was lower, my feet just barely touching the floor and secured slightly behind my center of gravity, forcing my chest to stick out slightly. The erotic corporal punishment had the appropriate effect, and every gentle touch of Brian or Greg filled me with passion and a longing from my groin. I was wondering why I was positioned this way and then I saw them. Two clamps with weights dangling from them on 12 inch chains. I had heard of nipple clamps before, but had never seen them before this. I got by with clothespins in self-bondage. Greg and Brian simultaneously stimulated my nipples to sharp points and then attached the clamps. The weights were hanging straight down from my protruding chest. I heaved a low guttural sound as they held up the weights and then dropped them. I thought of asking how long this would last but thought better of it.

Greg stood back in admiration and then giggled "I�ve got to try something." He pulled the weight on my right nipple to the side and then released it like a wrecking ball towards the left. It was a perfect hit and my legs collapsed from under me in an erotic spasm. "Let me try it" said Brian as Greg helped me stabilize. Brian�s first attempt just missed, which was a real trip for my right nipple, but he made it on the second try. My nipples have always been sensitive, and they were really freaking out at this attention. After a few minutes of this childish play, they sealed the cage once more. Greg turned on some kind of machine which turned out to be a large oscillating fan. The suspended weights were subjected to intermittent blasts of air and swayed appropriately.

"Back in a while" said Brian. I was left alone once more, the dangling weights swirling in a blur of sexual torture and my cock pulsating against the lycra. The machine cycled off and on several times, adding the element of surprise. I was getting quite moist with preliminary juices and I almost came several times, but couldn�t quite do it. It was splendid agony.

About 20 or 30 minutes later they were back. The machine was turned off, clamps removed. They straightened me so that my weight was fully on my feet once more and methodically removed the rope, an exquisite experience. My wrists were set free and I reached for my delighted cock, but Brian grabbed me and said, "No way." The lycra hood was put back on.

I was walked backwards and told to step up on a short stool. I was attached at the waist to some sort of rack on the wall. More straps secured my legs just below the crotch and my torso was secured to the wall with a rope just below my nipples. The stool was kicked out from under me. My dangling ankles were strapped down. My arms and ankles had just enough movement to heighten my feeling of helplessness. It felt sensational.

Brian began to caress my ankles, moving slowly up the legs while Greg slowly drew large, imaginary circles around my nipples with his finger tips, closing the circles tighter and tighter until he suddenly dragged his finger tips across the anxious cones, still sore from the clamps. I gasped with joy and my cock oozed slightly as Brian�s gentle hands moved steadily up my thighs. Suddenly they gave me a frenzy of attention in the crotch and chest areas and then just as suddenly stopped. I was panting hard and quivering with excitement. "Please, don�t stop" I begged.

"We�ll be back soon," said Greg as they left the room. I continued to have spasms for several minutes and was now whimpering with exquisite frustration. Shortly, one of them returned. I could hear footsteps. I felt a gentle massaging above and to the outside of my nipples, first with two hands, then with one. The other hand gingerly found my throbbing cock, struggling against the lycra and grabbed it just as a nipple was grabbed. He continued to twist my nipple while moving my cock up and down against the lycra as if he was manipulating a pump handle. Wow!! My tormentor repeated variations on this several times and then departed. I was once more left alone, quivering and straining at my bonds, hoping for relief.

For the next hour or so, Brian and Greg would take turns coming in every few minutes to arouse me, and then leave me in erotic agony. Sometimes they would come in together. Sometimes one or both would sneak in so silently that I didn�t know they were coming until the first magic touch caused me to jump. Each time, my cock was repositioned: straight up against my abdomen, straight down into the crotch, or down one leg or the other. Their visits became more frequent, and they stimulated me closer to orgasm each time. I wondered how long I could stand it. I wondered how long they would make me stand it.

The footsteps told me that they were both in the room again, and suddenly my hood was removed. My cock and nipples were stiff and anxious.

I was released from the rack and led to what looked like a doctors examination table. I was told to lay down. My waist was secured to the table, my ankles tied down about 6 inches apart, and my arms were secured in sleeves on the side of the table, allowing me to bend my forearms straight up. I had more arm mobility now, but I couldn�t reach my own cock. My head was supported with a pillow which allowed me to enjoy the beautiful sight of my body in its lycra entrapment, strapped so vulnerably to this narrow bed. Being able to watch heightened my sensitivity as Brian and Greg casually stroked and caressed me up and between me legs, around my crotch and around my nipples. They worked unhurriedly and my rising intensity was making them hot as well.

"Let�s watch a video" said Brian. My bondage table had adjustable height and it was lowered to about the height of an end table. Brian and Greg pulled chairs up on either side of me. The TV was behind me so I could only see their faces, not what they were watching. Greg put his hand on my nipples and rubbed softly and slowly. Brian put his hand on my cock and began to rub very slowly. It surged against the lycra and oozed some more, but I would never reach orgasm at this slow pace. I don�t know what those guys in the video were doing, but it sounded pretty hot. Greg and Brian would occasionally quicken their pace in reaction to what they were watching, but then slow down again before anything could happen. I could not be still for long, suddenly jerking or shaking in reaction to another erotic button being pushed, then trying to calm down only to be riveted once more by an almost paralytic arousal. It was exquisite torture. After about an hour, the video ended. They stood up and raised my bondage table to just below waist height

"Chris", said Greg. "We�ve really enjoyed this afternoon so far and we are going to bring you to orgasm very shortly." My cock oozed. "But first, you have to express your appreciation to us." With this, they each pulled their cocks out of their tights and stood facing each other on either side of me. They lubricated their cocks and then grabbed my hands and forced them to grab their pleasure seeking rods. They locked forearms across me as I worked their cocks up and down - well, I guess it was back and forth at that angle. I didn�t know that they had jacked off three times already during the breaks they took from tormenting me, so they were ready for a long session. When my frustration began to show after 15 minutes, I slowed down slightly and suggested that I needed a break. They each grabbed one of my nipples and warned me to pick up the pace because if they didn�t come, I certainly wouldn�t. I had no choice. I probably would have sucked cock in order to get relief for myself, but we had already decided on hand jobs so we could do it without condoms. If I slowed down at all, one or both of them would give my nipples a hard twist or pinch. I was motivated. I actually slowed down deliberately a few times to repeat that experience. About 10 or 15 minutes later they finally came, both within 30 seconds of each other, grabbing my hands to catch their wads. They each licked their own semen off of my hands which was an extraordinary feeling.

My hands were lashed down to the side of the table and Greg pulled my tights down far enough to free my very frustrated cock. It was absolutely ready to explode and I believe the slightest additional touch would have produced instant orgasm. Brian and Greg sensed this, so Greg rubbed my cock with a melting ice cube. "We don�t want to rush it now, do we?" All I could do was heave a sigh. My cock was cooled off but absolutely rigid. They each gave me a long kiss on the mouth, running their hands through my hair. Greg positioned himself behind me and reached down over my shoulders to start working my nipples. Brian gently grabbed my ankles and began to move his hands sensuously up my legs, inside, outside, underneath up to and under my ass, then circling around my cock without touching it and rubbing me just above it. I just kept moaning with excruciating pleasure. Between the constant nipple attention and Brian�s dramatic tease, my cock was flailing around in the air. Finally, Brian moved his fingers and then his hand to my waiting organ and began to stroke ever so slowly. I lost track of time, of where I was, even who I was. I was in orbit. I was in another universe. Brian changed hands and picked up the tempo. Greg was working my nipples faster and harder as well. What a team. As the movements became quicker, my moans increased in pitch, volume, and speed until I exploded with a loud cry. It was the orgasm of my life. My eyes were closed and I imagined my semen shooting 30 feet into the air with enough force to penetrate steel. None of us moved for several minutes. Of course, I had no choice. We all just looked at each other with smiles of satisfaction and fulfillment. Greg mopped my forehead with a damp wash cloth and caressed my brow as Brian began to release me from my bondage.

We cleaned ourselves up and met in the kitchen wearing bathrobes. We all needed a little break from lycra. We enjoyed a late supper and some pleasant talk about our favorite cycling experiences. It seemed that the bondage was now over and we were on equal terms again. I was wrong. We watched a little TV after supper and then decided to retire for the evening. I was led into the guest room and given a fresh lycra outfit to wear to bed. Emerging from my final trip to the bathroom, I was promptly man-handled onto the bed and tied to the bed posts in a spread eagle position. They strapped an emergency button on my right wrist in case I needed anything in the middle of the night. After spending a few minutes to ensure that I was thoroughly aroused, they said good-night and turned out the light. I was exhausted and fell asleep quickly despite the unsatisfied arousal.

An erotic dream awakened me in the middle of the night and I felt dehydrated. I hit the emergency button. They both came in rubbing their eyes and I asked for some water. "Sure," said Brian. While Brian went for water, Greg immediately went to work arousing me once more. As he toyed with my nipples and cock, he was yawning and scratching himself nonchalantly, like a sleepy parent up for the 2:00 o�clock feeding. Within seconds my nipples and cock were raging hard again. Brian returned with the water, I drank it and then looked at both of them with pleading eyes. They smiled and each pinched one of my nipples again before saying goodnight and turning out the light. It took me a while to get back to sleep.

Chapter Three: The Group

Morning ablutions and breakfast brought release once again and a feeling of equality and camaraderie. I asked about the presentation they were giving to their club. They were suspiciously vague about my part in it. Greg looked at the clock and said, "They�ll be arriving in a few minutes. We better get Chris ready."

I was escorted into their bedroom where they produced a unique looking item which I later learned is called a one piece cat suit. It had built in hands and feet and, and was made of shiny black lycra. I aroused instantly as they zipped me into this wonderful garment. A hood was placed on my head, but this one had holes for my eyes so I could see clearly. The rest of my face was covered. I was told that I was the mystery guest and club members would be asked to guess my age. I didn�t have a chance to protest. At least no one could see my face. I was taken into the living room and strapped to an exposed support beam, my hands bound behind me.

One by one the guests arrived. Each one wore some variation on lycra or spandex. There ended up being 12 in all, besides Greg and Brian. 7 guys and 5 gals, with an age spread from early 20s to mid 40s I would guess. A very eclectic group which looked like they represented all sexualitys. Each was introduced to me. Since I couldn�t shake hands, they all responded by stroking my cock once or twice and/or brushing my nipples. What a rush. Finally, they settled down in the living room. I was released from the beam and then bound into a chair facing the group. They all took turns guessing my age. Several thought I was under 30. Amazing what lycra can do for a body. Greg announced the winner with the closest guess, which was 39, and then took the hood off of my head as he asked the group if they would like a new member. They roared their approval. Strangely, I wasn�t blushing.

Greg continued. "Brian and I made a wonderful video yesterday. Chris was a terrific subject, and we want to share it with you now."

I looked at Brian and Greg in horror, struggling at the ropes that bound me to the chair. I think I was going into shock. Of course, it all made sense now - - the bright lights in the room, all the breaks they took. I had no way of knowing that they captured everything with two overlapping VCRs and two different cameras. I glared at them, but the look in their eyes was not mean or sadistic. Their eyes showed artistic pride. My glare softened into a slight smile as I said, "No problem. Go for it."

THE END

Coming installments:

1. Chris�s initiation into the Lycra club. Chris is encased in lycra and bound to a table. Club members keep a 24 hour arousal watch on him as they see how long he can sustain an erection without orgasm.

2. Lycra water torture. The shower has a hand held shower nozzle with variable jets. The hot tub has a jet that moves up and down. Imagine the possibilities.

3. Can you believe that Chris has to introduce Brian and Greg to alligator clips? Don�t miss this biting satire.

4. Chris is invited back to help Brian and Greg with their fantasy. Chris and Greg are lycra clad crime fighters - Wonderman and Wonderboy. They are captured by Brian, torturer for the mob. Experience their horror as they are made to do unspeakable things to each other. Experience Chris�s horror as he is told, after the 4 hour session, that he has only a 15 minute break before he does it again with Brian and Greg switching roles.

5. Chris has a long talk with his wife and tells her everything about Brian and Greg and the lycra club. She ties him up for 5 days, using him for her pleasure and satisfaction. He loves her more than ever.

Author�s note: Upon completing this fantasy, I sat down and talked to my wife of 28 years for the first time about my lycra and bondage fetish. Two nights later, she had me bound to the bed, wearing a Mark Chester catsuit, for three exquisite hours of sex like we�ve never had before. It�s never to late to communicate.