Getting Tied Up By My Straight Friend 03

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

Chapter 3: Joshua Tree

We pulled onto the highway before the sun was fully up. Windows cracked, big bottle of orange juice to share, a cooler rattling behind our seats. Eddy asked if I wanted his playlist or silence. I said we should try an audiobook. He laughed, picked a memoir from a youtuber we both liked, hit play, and let the voice run low under the road noise.

I thought about the giant bottle of lube I saw him pack. He kept his eyes on the road. The seatbelt felt like the ropes holding me in place. I watched the lanes disappeared under the car and tried not to replay the events of the garage in my head for the twentieth time that week.

“Hydrate,” he said, handing me a bottle of water without looking. “It's gonna be warm out there.”

I chuckled and took a swig.

His phone lit up in the cup holder. His girlfriend's name on the screen. He flipped it over with two fingers, avoiding reading it. I watched his jaw flex.

“You gonna call her later,” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, short. Then he softened. “Later.”

We drifted into road‑trip talk about him and his girlfriend, what she liked, what he wanted to try, the kind of stuff you only say when you're with your best friend, getting loose in a private moment.

"I love taking her roughly," he said. "And she actually started asking me to do some wild stuff. We did anal, and she even wants me to choke her a little during sex recently."

"That's hot," I said.

"She doesn't wanna be tied up though," he said, giving me a side glance.

I reeled a little bit internally. I felt like it was a hint that he wanted to tie me up again like before. I was praying that it was true, as much as I hated admitting to myself how much I wanted it. 

He went on a bit about his fantasies with women, and it got under my skin fast. I shifted in my seat. He adjusted his shorts and kept his eyes on the road. We both clocked each other getting hard.

"You're not supposed to pitch a tent 'til we get there," I said, chuckling at his big cock swelling down his thigh.

Eddy laughed, then pulled his shorts up his left leg, showing his hard dick throbbing against his bare thigh. I couldn't look away. It's the tool that had made me feel good that day in the garage.

"Maybe I should take care of that for you," I said, wondering where this was going. But he just laughed and put it away. Maybe he's not actually into it anymore, I thought to myself. He just wanted that one day of practice.

We hit a long stretch where we said nothing, listening to music at this point. He drummed the wheel. I tapped the neck of the water bottle with my thumb. I shifted in the seat.

“You keep zoning out,” he said.

“I slept weird,” I said.

“Uh huh,” he said, grabbing his bulge and wiggling it, making me roll my eyes.

He smiled without showing teeth. It put me back in the garage in one jump. I looked out the window and thought about taking a nap, but stayed awake in case he wanted company.

We stopped for gas in a town that was just three stores and a mural. Eddy stretched by the pump and the sun turned his hair a shade lighter. He looked older in the daylight, not nineteen, more like someone with more life experience. I stood by the windshield and wiped dead bugs off with a paper towel while I stole looks at him.

He caught one and smirked. “I have been doing pushups.”

“Tragic,” I said. “All that work just for your girlfriend.”

“Lies,” he said, clicking the pump off. “Anyone who wants to look at me is allowed to.”

I appreciated the subtle hint that he was picking up on how his body looked.

"Plenty of... girls check you out, I'm sure," I said.

He held my eyes, then looked away first. He put the cap back on the tank and tossed me the keys. “Drive,” he said. “You need the practice.”

So we swapped. The steering wheel felt extra large in my hands. I felt like when I was learning to drive in my big brother's car, and everything was always set to his size. Eddy sprawled with his arm on the window and his knee against the glovebox. We let the road pull us onward.

—][—

When we got there, the park looked like a gorgeous scene from a movie. A bunch of rock piles and Joshua trees and tourists who were seeing a desert for the first time. We paid at the booth and the ranger circled a few routes on a map with a confident pen. Eddy nodded politely even though we already knew exactly what we were doing this trip.

"We're here," he said when we parked at our camping spot. There were no other tents within view of us. We had the whole section of the campground to ourselves.

He opened the back and everything smelled like nylon. He handed me the guidebook. He flopped the rope bag onto the ground and started flaking the line. He worked with calm hands. He always did. I found it settling.

Harness time made my blood start to flow faster. He tossed mine onto the ground in front of me and I stepped in. He lifted it up to my body, and came around behind me to tug the waist belt until it hugged my hips. Two finger check at the buckle. He shook the crotch loops to settle them. The motion moved me around like I was gear and not a person, my dick starting to get hard with the attention he was giving it. The memory of his hands on me in the garage hit hard, and I had a boner immediately. I looked down and tried to think about anything else. He noticed, of course he noticed, and said nothing. He wordlessly adjusted my dick and balls until they were properly set in the crotch section.

“Tight enough,” he said.

“Make sure,” I said before I could stop myself.

He met my eyes for a beat. The corner of his mouth turned up. He tightened the rear strap another half inch, then crouched and checked the haul loop one last time, probably unecessarily. He stood up close, then gave me a slap on the ass and ran to the first rock.

I was already sweating. Not just from the heat. I met him at the rock, and he clipped in. We did the call and response, and he sent first. He climbed smooth. He always had good feet. I belayed and watched his hips track the wall, the rope sliding clean through my device. When he topped out he gave a whoop I felt in my chest. He lowered with both hands on the rope and landed easy.

“Your turn,” he said, buckling the device to his loop.

I tied in and started up. First holds were big, almost friendly. I moved like I had been doing this my whole life. It was easier than I expected. But halfway up I botched a step and slipped. The rope caught, tight and fast.

“I’ve got you,” he called. Calm. Hand on the rope, hand on the brake line, body set. His voice put me back on the route. I shook my hands, found a stance, and kept going. When I topped out the wind hit me in the face, and I started to laugh.

He lowered me slowly, hand at the back of my helmet for the last step down, palm warm and steady, then a quick squeeze on my shoulder.

“Nice,” he said. “You listen.”

“Sometimes,” I said.

We moved to a shady slice of rock and broke jerky. He ripped tape with his teeth and wrapped my raw knuckle. The tape snapped tight.

“Did I tie you tight enough,” he said, casual.

I turned to him wide eyed, then grinned when I realized what he meant. “Oh," I said, "you mean today.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I can go tighter,” I said.

He looked right at me. “Say the word.”

He brushed chalk off my thigh for me, and my face heated.

“Since there is no one out here,” he said, eyes still on the wall, “we could... run knots again.”

I paused, fighting the freight train running through my body.

“Just make sure they are tight enough,” I said.

He crushed the empty jerky bag and stood. “Top of the next rock," he said, "and let's hydrate first."

We raced the last pitch to the ridge, because for some reason he made it a race. He said winner picked dinner. I said winner picked music for the drive home. I lost by two moves because my foot slid. He crowed about it for thirty seconds, then handed me the last of the water without comment.

The top was a wide slab with a crooked tree and a view that went on forever. You could see for miles. Wind tugged at my shirt. The shade under the tree was a tempting spot to rest.

We stripped our shirts immediately, sweating and exhausted from the climb. Eddy dropped his pack in the dirt and unzipped it. He looked at me while his hand dug around inside. He pulled out the neon cord and tossed it onto the rock. He flipped a loop, spun his wrist, and the double loop knot formed quickly. He had gotten so good at knots.

"You've been practicing," I said.

"Let's hope you have too," he replied.

He did not ask. He just quickly stepped behind me and lifted my wrists. I let him take my arms, and he slid the loops down and tightened them. The bite was clean. He tugged, checked, and the knot was tight. My pulse thumped in my throat. I stared at the horizon and tried to look normal. It probably did not work.

He turned me to face him and scanned me with a discerning eye. “You're a good boy,” he said, quiet. Not a girl, a boy. He was breaking from the weird straight-gay line we had tacitly adopted. And he was not mocking. Not weird. Sweet. It went straight to my cock, and I was leaking pre-cum in my shorts already. He looked down and saw my boner, which matched the tent he was forming in his own. He reached for my waistband and dropped my shorts to my ankles in one swift movement. I felt the wind across my exposed ass and my sweaty cock and balls. I looked at my hardness pointing directly at him. Anyone with binoculars would be able to see us as I stood naked in front of him, while he kept his shorts on.

He worked fast. Rope across my chest, avoiding my nipples, second line riding it. He threaded from my wrists to the front and back again, setting my shoulders so I stood straight even if I got shaky. The rope hummed against my skin. I breathed and it pressed into me, firm and present.

Once I was bound, laying on my back on a blanket he had packed, with my knees held to my chest, my hard dick and my sweaty balls sticking out between my legs, the big bottle of lube came out. He popped the cap and slicked his palms. He ran his hands along my body, my sternum, arm pits, between my thighs, and around my ass cheeks.

"You have no hair on your ass," he said.

"Same as my brother," I replied.

"How do you..." he started, "nevermind."

He smelled like sunscreen and dust and the spearmint gum he never chewed, only parked in his cheek.

He looked at me as his hands started to press between my cheeks, and I nodded. He watched my face and smiled as he started to rub his lubed thumb around the edge of my hole.

He anchored a line to the trunk and clipped me short. The restraint was complete. He stepped in close, one hand at the back of my neck, the other checking each pass of rope like a climber who trusted but verified.

“Breathe,” he said in my ear. “Open.”

He did not kiss me. He moved me into position and dropped his shorts to his ankles and kicked them off, revealing that big dick again. It looked even bigger, along with a heavy set of large balls. I think the sun made them stretch out more, giving him more girth. He knelt down, and pressed his dick to my mouth. I didn't react, just looked at it up close, until he put a hand on my neck, and squeezed lightly. 

I was ready.

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. He exhaled slowly as I began making circles around the head of his dick. Out in the desert, in the heat of day, under the shade of a protective, ancient tree, I felt like I was having a spiritual experience. 

Eddy set a rhythm with his hands and his weight, a steady push and hold that rode the line he had set low across me. Not tender, but not cruel. Focused. He kept me right where it worked and let me feel all of it. I stopped trying to help. I let him steer as he pressed into my throat, and learned what made me gag, and when I needed to breathe.

“Good boy,” he said when my thighs started to shake. “Stay.”

He fed the line a little tighter and I jolted. He waited me out, fingers at my ribs, then drew them down my stomach like he was checking for a crack in a rock. I was not scared. Or if I was a little, it was only making me want more.

He re-lubed. Cap click, slick palms. He slid a hand under the rope to trace the line down to my crotch. I saw the puddle of pre-cum I had made on my abs as my dick throbbed, hovering in the air, at an angle over my abs. When his thumb found my ass again, he tested with small moves and watched my eyes before shoving it inside, making me gasp. He pressed in further, and when I flinched he held steady until my hole loosened. When he decided I was loose enough, he adjusted his body and put his dick at my hole.

He didn't say anything, or even look me in the eye. He just pressed forward, and watched how my hole reacted. I tightened on him immediately, almost hissing, but in seconds I was relaxed, and opened up for him to penetrate me further. After a slow build, paying no attention to time, he was balls deep inside me, and he started inching in and out, making me release another drop of pre-cum each time be pressed in all the way.

Time stretched as he thrust into me on the top of that rock. The sun shifted, and the shadow of the tree moved, pulling us deeper into the shade. He started saying small notes of encouragement mixed with commands.

“Open. Take it. Breathe for me, baby.”

I did not have words to respond to that. I leaned into it. I stopped thinking.

“Finish for me without your hands,” he said. Not a question.

It was like he knew my body better than I did. As good as it felt, I didn't even realize I was close to cumming. But somehow he did.

It hit hard. Not fast. Not a squirting explosion. A slow wave that took the weight out of my lower body, starting in my ass and sending tingling pulses of ecstasy through my body. I especially felt it in my ears and my nipples. My head felt a rush of pleasure, and I released weird sounds, "gah," and "unng."

My body went tight then soft then tight again, as I oozed a white load out onto my abs for over a minute. He kept me right there, shallow, sure, his eyes on mine. I rode it until I stopped pulsing, but I was still horny. When my orgasm eased, I sagged into the harness. He caught me with the anchor like he had planned that exact second. He pressed into me balls deep, and with about a minute of hard thrusts, he came inside me as well, his big, red cock disappearing into my hole as I felt it throb.

We stayed quiet. Wind rattled the dry leaves. He loosened a loop so I could lean on the trunk. My heartbeat climbed down from my throat. He held a bottle to my lips and I drank. He rubbed the rope marks at my arms with his thumbs. He did not ask anything. He just stayed.

Untying took time. He did not rush. The last loop slipped free and my hands came forward. Pins and needles lit up. He rubbed them out for me, caressing my arms and legs deeply, then held my wrists for a second longer than he needed to. No kiss. No speech. Just a nod.

The hike down was quiet. Not heavy, not weird. Just a comfortable quiet. At camp we set the tent and the stove. He checked the rope marks on my skin while the water tried to boil in the wind. I slapped his hand and told him I was fine. He ignored me and kept checking anyway.

Dinner was instant noodles with a shit ton of hot sauce. We ate on crash pads in front of a big fire we had built, and watched the sky change to a purplish twighlight. A few of the other campsites had gotten occupants since we arrived, and two climbers at the next site made loud jokes about their day.

"Their day wasn't as fun as ours," I said before leaning down to slurp some more noodles.

“Damn straight,” he said, smiling at me.

His phone buzzed. He grimaced, typed a reply fast, flipped it over. The ache in my chest surprised me by being small and sharp. I shoved it down.

We cleaned up and climbed into the tent. Temperature dropped quick. We zipped two bags together because his zipper was broken on one side. Sharing heat was the excuse we used out loud. Shoulders and hips lined up, hands trapped by the bag like soft restraints. I breathed in cotton and dust and whatever soap he used on his shirts.

"I liked that today,” he said after a while, “And that other time. When we... practiced knots.”

“Me too,” I said. “And when you tell me to breathe and I actually do.”

He was quiet. “Rope calms me,” he said. “The sound it makes when it feeds. The catch. I like being the one at the device. I like controlling things.”

“I know,” I said.

“It is not about guys,” he said. “I am not trying to make this weird.”

“It is already weird,” I said, smiling in the dark. “It's just good weird.”

He reached over and pressed his palm flat on my chest for a second. Not a hug. Not a grab. Just a sort of check in. He pulled back.

We fell asleep with our shoulders still touching. Once, in the night, I woke up because the wind hit the tent hard. He rolled closer in his sleep and the bag tightened around both of us. His arm held me tight, whether in his sleep or not, and it felt like a soft harness and I drifted off again without thinking about it.