Getting Tied Up By My Straight Friend

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

I always thought ropes were for cargo, not life-changing questions. Then Eddy showed up with a coil of neon paracord and a YouTube playlist about figure eights, clove hitches, and a guy who could tie a bowline behind his back with his eyes closed. We had a rock climbing trip on the calendar, our upcoming first time at Joshua Tree, and he said we needed to learn knots. I believed him. It was already sweltering up in the garage, both of us stripped down to our underwear because we were sweating and didn’t really have boundaries between us anyway. The thought briefly went through my head that he was a freak, based on our history of sharing porn. We had been close since freshman year, and I knew he was into the most kinky shit regarding BDSM and everything you can do to a willing, submissive girl. I let the thought pass, assuring myself that it made sense that we were just going to practice knots today. Of course, we did make jokes.

At one point I teased him, saying, “You’re gonna try to use these on your girlfriend.” He just smirked and shrugged, replying, “Honestly, if she let me, I would.”

Two college guys who had seen every corner of the internet, swapping jokes about bondage in the same breath as talking about how fun Joshua Tree was going to be. We were both nineteen, athletic gym goers, roommates by fate, quick friends by nature. He had a way of turning anything into a game. I had a way of saying yes to the things he suggested.

We set up in my mom’s garage while she was out. Old couch, dusty TV, the smell of laundry soap and old wood. The door was rolled up halfway so the afternoon light sliced in and you could hear a lawn mower down the block. Eddy tugged the paracord, and noted that he had done a YouTube deep dive on everything we needed to know.

“Lesson one,” he said. “Preparedness saves lives. No slipping when your life is on the line.”

“Meaning mine,” I said.

“Exactly.”

He started with simple loops around my wrists so I could learn to pull free. I did. Then he made the loops smaller. I still slipped loose. He nodded like a coach and told me to try again. We went back and forth until I was struggling to get out of them. Just as I freed myself from his tightest knot yet, he did this little double noose thing I had not seen before, two loops side by side. He could spin the cord with his fingers the way people spin pencils in class. It made me want to watch his hands.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he said, casual.

I actually thought we were done practicing getting free, and that he was just brushing a bug off me or something. But the two loops slid down and tightened at the same time on my wrists, as neatly as a seatbelt clicking into place. He tugged once, checked the tension, and stepped back with that half smile I knew meant he was proud of himself.

“Damn,” I said, twisting. “You made handcuffs.”

“Climbing handcuffs,” he said, which made no sense, which made it funny.

I laughed and tried to slip out. No luck. He had me. The cord pressed my wrists just enough for me to know it wasn't going to be easy to break free. I rocked my shoulders and failed again. He raised his eyebrows like, want to keep going. I shrugged, implying sure. I saw his eyes light up, and I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw him adjust his crotch. That wasn't something I wanted to address, even as a joke, in case it was something real.

We were always one nudge away from something dumb. That was how our friendship worked. We did dumb things and then did them again, but today was different. He had a different air about him.

He moved me to the couch and started adding rope to me, under the pretense that I should try to break free from them. Soon my ankles were tied like we were making a hostage movie. Then my knees were held together. Then a line around my chest, not too tight actually, just snug against my bare skin, framing my pecs that I had been working on. It was like a harness that made me sit a little straighter.

It started to turn more serious and less like a joke. We had wordlessly transitioned from practicing getting free, to him just tying me up. I even let him know when he had missed a spot on me.

“I can still move my leg,” I said, testing the slack.

No comment. He just crouched by my shin, tightened a cinch, and checked it with two fingers. He looked up to see if I was okay. I was. He knew I was. He still looked.

When he threaded cord through and under and back, making patterns that reinforced the binding, his crotch got really close to my face, and I couldn't deny it any more. He was hard. He was fully getting a boner while tying me up. This was doing something for him. It hit me that he was literally doing the knots from those internet videos he likes of girls getting tied up. Ornate loops and supporting patterns that were binding me further and further. I shuddered a bit internally, as some part of me knew that I wasn't going to stop him from continuing. I tried to relax as I just let the current carry me.

"This is actually kind of fun," I said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "I can barely move."

"I know. It is fun," he said, keeping his focus on the knots around my body, "And I'm actually better at this than I thought I would be."

He worked in silence like he did with math problems, tongue pressed against his canine when he concentrated. I stopped even trying to get free. The cords e

He made one last restraint, lining my crotch with two ropes going up either side of my junk from under me and up around my hips. The ropes pressed against the borders of my bulge, and the sensation started to give me blood flow. Heat in my body began to dull my focus. I swallowed and looked away. The only thing I could move at all was my neck.

And then he just sat beside me, our shoulders slightly touching, and turned on the TV. I sort of looked between him and the TV. I was sat up on the couch, immobilized like a fraternity prank. 

He put on some dumb show with a laugh track. My chest moved against the harness as I breathed. Breathing was one of the only things I could do in this position. The cord at my crotch made me more aware of my gently building boner, even if I didn't realize yet why I was getting hard. I just ignored it, and I expected he wouldn't say anything about it either.

"How long should I stay like this?" I said.

"I don't know, let's see how long you can take it," he replied. I gulped. Something had shifted. Something was different. Something was about to happen.

I turned my head and we watched a little more TV. He reached forward and set the remote on my crotch like I was a coffee table, my hard boner holding it perfectly in place. I snorted. He grinned. When he adjusted the remote, his knuckles brushed the rope that crossed my crotch and jiggled my junk around. I thought about saying something, but I didn't, just chuckling as it tickled a little, and also felt kind of good.

"So," I said, just admitting to the tension a bit, "this is how you wish you could tie up your girlfriend?"

“Honestly,” he said, “Like... yeah”

“What is our safe word,” I asked, joking.

“Dumbledore,” he said right away.

“You had that ready,” I said.

“Preparedness saves lives.”

We both laughed. I shifted and the rope pressed me again. The laugh died in my throat. The tent in the thin cotton of my underwear was pulsing. He noticed. He did not point it out. And he didn't look away.

“Does it feel okay,” he asked.

“It feels like... something,” I said.

He picked up the coil of extra cord and rolled it between his palms. Then he stood, looked down at me, and without another word yanked the rope at my hips tighter. My whole body jolted. He watched me flinch, then stay still. “That better?” he asked. His tone was firm, almost commanding.

“Yeah,” I said, breathless. "It's... fine."

He grabbed my ankles and dragged me sideways on the couch until I was lying across it. He tied another knot, pulling my knees tight to my chest, then looped cord around my thighs until I was locked in place. Now I couldn't even move my hips. My butt was sticking out as I play on my back, my body compressed. His movements were sharp, efficient, not playful now but more serious, testing how far I would go. He pinned me without touching me. The rope did all of it.

I grunted, twisting. “You’re rough,” I said.

“That’s the point,” he said flat.

I guess I could have said "pineapple" if I really wanted to, but this was freaking me out. What the fuck are we doing? I repeated in my head. It had suddenly turned into some semi-gay, kinky thing with my buddy. I was never gay, and he wasn't either. Whatever the fuck was happening, I just lay there, bound, underwear straining under my boner, my pulse hammering while he reviewed his handiwork on my body. He smirked like he knew exactly what he was doing. He pressed his hand hard against my chest to hold me still while he adjusted another knot. His strength felt different now, not friendly, not gentle, but controlled and deliberate. None of the knots were hurting, but every centimeter of mobility I had before was getting restricted further and further. And it made me feel good.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, eyes shut.

I was starting to feel more and more of this strange comfort in my body as he restrained me. He was watching over me, making sure everything was perfect, and nothing was cutting off circulation.

He pushed my head back into the couch cushion with one palm and let me strain against the ropes. I couldn’t move an inch. Every jerk of my arms or legs just made the ropes bite deeper. He crouched, close enough for me to feel his breath, and gave one last tug on the line at my hips so hard I gasped. He smiled at that sound.

“Good,” he said. “Now stay.”

I obeyed, not that I had the mobility to do otherwise. He started touching my head, running his fingers through my hair, and I just looked between his focused face and his hard abs.

The garage didn’t feel like my family's garage anymore. It felt like his space. And I was in it, completely enrapt under his dominant mission, and loving that he had me there.

Eddy ran his fingers through my hair and a thumb across my face, probing my lips, and I let him, just watching his face. His other hand slid down my body, rubbing the exposed skin of my chest and abs, then down to my ass, pressing firmly through the fabric, until I couldn’t hold back a groan. Then, with one hand, he tore a hole through my briefs, pressing a finger at my hole, just probing it. I had never been touched there at all. I hadn't even played with my ass, afraid of it being too gay. But I was intrigued by the sensations, and I let out a moan without realizing it. He pushed two fingers into my mouth, letting me taste the salt of his skin. He watched me suck them down, testing me like another knot. When he pulled them free, they trailed back down my chest and pressed between my cheeks again, working me open while I gasped against the ropes.

He kept one hand teasing me from behind while the other shoved his boxer briefs down. Before I even realized what was happening, they were hooked around his balls, and his big, throbbing boner was in my face. I opened my mouth in shock, and he didn’t ask nor hesitate.

His dick filled the space between my lips immediately.

I heard him grunt as he pressed into the back of my throat on the first go, while his fingers worked deeper down below. The sensation of dick taste and my mouth and ass being full was surreal, and by instinct I closed my lips around it. 

"Your teeth," was the only thing he said, and my budding submissive side obeyed instantaneously, pulling my teeth away and giving him more access to my tongue and my throat.

The TV still played in the background, but the only thing I heard was the rope creaking and my mouth sloshing around his cock as I writhed against it, and him telling me when to slow down and when to stick out my tongue. The rope kept me arched and exposed, every movement a choice he made.

I gagged and tried to adjust, my throat learning him while his knuckles pressed inside me. His attention moved back and forth, switching between stuffing my mouth with his cock, and stretching my hole open with his fingers, never letting me forget who was in control. My body shook against the cords, unable to move, only able to take what he gave.

“You’re mine right now,” he whispered commandingly.

I couldn’t answer with words, only with the way I moaned around him and pushed back against his fingers. He went harder, pulling me by the rope at my hips, driving me against the line of his body. The couch creaked, the cords tightened, and I let him do whatever he wanted. It was rough, it was overwhelming, and it was awakening something in me.

He slowed, pulling out of my mouth, and wiped his fingers against my lips before dragging them down to grip my ass cheeks with both hands. My boner was leaking a puddle of pre-cum on the remaining parts of my torn underwear, and I could feel the wetness on me. Then he lifted his foot, pressing it against my chest, grinding lightly as if testing another limit. My eyes widened as he moved his foot higher from my chest to my mouth. He shoved harder until I understood what he wanted.

“Lick me,” he said.

Bound and desperate, I stuck out my tongue and let my lips close around his big toe, then his next two, licking and sucking them like they were part of the same game. He leaned back with a sharp exhale, watching me worship his foot. The taste of sweat and skin filled my mouth while his other foot pressed against my thigh, pinning me down further. Every time I moaned, he pushed deeper, making me prove I would take it.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “Keep going.”

I obeyed, tongue tracing every curve, sucking each toe until he was satisfied. His breathing grew heavy, the kind of sound that made it clear he loved seeing me like that, tied and kneeling at his mercy, treating his feet like they were everything. I gave myself to it, moaning around him, showing him I was his to use however he wanted. He was finally getting to explore his dominant side, and I was getting some strange fulfillment by satisfying that for him.

Then he shifted, standing tall before slowly lowering himself until he was crouched over my face. The weight of him pressed down, his thighs tight against my cheeks. I opened wide, licking the base of his balls, dragging my tongue across his taint while he groaned above me. He pressed lower on my tongue until I was rimming him, my tongue working over the tight ring of muscle while he ground down. The ropes kept me in place while he used my face like his seat.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered, voice sharp. “You love this, don't you? You take all of it.”

I obeyed, licking and worshipping him, tasting every part he gave me. My tongue drifted between his balls and his ass while he rocked on top of me, grinding into my mouth, making sure I covered every inch with whatever my tongue could do. The smell, the taste, the control, it was filthy and raw, and it had both of us shaking with how far we had gone.

Then he pulled forward, yanked my hips higher, and pushed into my ass. The ropes made me arch my body while he positioned me and drove in hard. He had done a lot of stretching work with his fingers, but the length of his cock was an adjustment as he pressed in deep. I gasped, still avoiding the safe word, only uttering small acknowledgements, like when he would pause, I would say, "ok," when I was ready for him to go deeper. Every thrust made the cords creak and my body jolt. He held the ropes at my hips, using me like a fleshlight. I was on my back, pleasing a dude with my ass, and somehow I had never felt better.

He suddenly muttered, "shit," as picked up the pace, "I'm gonna cum."

I braced. The idea of getting creampied hadn't even crossed my mind as we were escalating this strange and novel situation, but I was ready for it. He froze and I could feel his dick pulsing. I was aware that my hole was being flooded with his jizz. My dick throbbing and I felt more pre-cum escape, making a puddle now on my crotch. While he was mid orgasm, he reached down and tore off the rest of my underwear, leaving my throbbing boner out in the air. I could see my pre-cum puddle as it leaked down between my balls and my thigh. I watched his thick cock as he pulled out of me slowly. The head was covered in his clearish white goo, and I just couldn't stop thinking about how there was a load inside me now.

For a while we just lay there in the garage, breathing, the TV still buzzing with canned laughter. He untied a few knots so I could stretch out. My skin was marked everywhere from the ropes, red lines crossing my chest and arms. My arms were still bound, and my erection was still aching, throbbing and pointed at the ceiling. He rubbed my body absentmindedly, smoothing out the rope marks, then leaned back with a laugh.

“We really did that,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, still catching my breath. “We... really did.”

"What does my ass look like?" I asked.

He took a pic with his phone and showed it to me. It was still gaping, which made sense with how it felt. I could see his gooey remnants coming out of it.

"That's crazy," I said.

"Did it feel good?" he asked, "They say it actually feels awesome. Like a guy can cum just from getting fucked if it's good enough."

"Yeah," I said quietly, "I felt myself getting there actually."

"Maybe," he started, pausing, "we could try again until you cum...?"