TuffGuy Struggles Toward Relief - Part 1
Our time is running low now, one more hour and I must send TuffGuy on his way. So the moment of truth finally approaches ﾅ either TuffGuy blows the huge load thatﾒs been churning in his swollen nuts all day long, or he goes home with a pitifully intense case of blue balls. Our long-suffering hero is hooded, blindfolded, and tied securely to a small chair: with legs spread wide his ankles are tied to each end of a spreader bar, he wears a parachute ball-stretcher which is pulled downward and tautly tied to the bar between his feet, his wrists are cuffed behind his back and also tautly connected to the ball-stretcher by a cord running underneath the chair, a bit-gag is in place and is cinched tightly behind his head to the wrist cuffs behind his back (I also placed a wooden clothespin on each of his sensitive nipples just to add a little painful flavor to his erotic frustration ... heh, heh). The overall effect is that TuffGuy is held in an awkwardly helpless position in which any movement at all only causes him more discomfort, while at the same time his desperate cock is on display, helplessly exposed and utterly vulnerable. By this time TuffGuy is erotically charged-up enough that itﾒs a simple task to get him so achingly hard that heﾒs soon trembling on the edge yet again, needing to cum so bad that he can almost taste it ﾅ and then I keep him there for as long as it pleases me. I urge him to the brink, and then cruelly pull him back, over and over again until he frantically begins to worry that I may not plan to let him cum at all ﾅ heh, heh, heh