“It’s a great morning for a bondage meeting!” I said to myself as I drove along a desolate two-lane highway toward a small town about two hours away from the city where I live. But on a more serious note, I just hoped that this new acquaintance would show up… and turn out to be what he had led me to understand that he was. My mind tended to wander as I drove; I admit that I do sometimes get “lost in thought” (you know–unfamiliar territory and all that). I am an enthusiast for bondage with other guys. Nothing painful or extreme, just the adventure of tying another guy up and the sensation and exciting feeling that it stirs inside me when I take control of another guy in this way. And sometimes, out of fairness, giving up control to another guy by allowing him to turn the tables and tie me up. I am not gay, but am well aware that bondage is sometimes associated with that lifestyle. I wondered if the guy that I was meeting–for the first time, I might add–was gay or just a bondage enthusiast like myself. I might find out soon, or then again, remain in the unknown. Rod and I had met on a male bondage site via the computer. We shared messages and got acquainted, and later shared phone numbers and appropriate times to call and converse in person. He told me that he traveled a lot for his salesman job–mostly in five states, one of which was my home state. We remained in contact for about four months, and finally he informed me that he would be coming on a business trip to a large city in my state, and would gladly detour for a couple of hours if I was willing to split the distance with him. It sounded great, and would only involve a two-hour drive for me, and for him. Besides, I had a fair amount of vacation leave that I had to use up or lose, so a day off would be welcome. Since both Rod and I like to take control of another guy, we planned a four hour meeting to begin around midday. We would take turns: one of us would tie the other up for a couple of hours, then we would switch places. It was agreed that we would avoid extremes, pain, and sexual gratification at the other’s expense–but apart from using those loose parameters, no other detail of what to avoid was discussed. Big mistake–I was to find out later! I was going over one of our latest telephone conversations in my mind as I drove. Rod’s voice was deep, and mysterious, and just made for a radio. He sounded like his voice alone would melt the heart of any female within listening distance. “Jake,” he had said to me as we were making final plans for the meeting, “I am the guest… as you are aware. That said, don’t you agree that I should start and tie you up first?” “What the heck,” I replied, “one of us has to submit first. It may as well be me.” “And I can do whatever I want to you… right?” he questioned. “Remember,” I responded, “nothing extreme, no pain, nothing sexual.” A long, drawn out laugh followed as I listened. “Right,” he said, and I knew he was smiling as he said it. Since I was the “host”, I was able to rent a room at a certain motel, with the explanation that an interview was going to take place and privacy was essential. Once I had the key, I would enter the room, and wait for him. I had previously emailed a picture of myself to him, but for a reason supported by a host of excuses, he could not return the favor. All I knew about him was that he was a wrestler and a gymnast in his high school, and had kept himself in excellent physical shape since then. Ordinarily, that small amount of detail would have caused me to throw up a distress flag, but all his excuses seemed valid, and I accepted them. Another small matter entered my uncharted thought territory as I drove: I had to let him know what color and model of car I was driving, so he could watch for me. He would watch for me and come into the room after me, so I would not have similar information about him. Why hadn’t I thought about that before? Should I even be concerned? Oh well. Life’s a riddle at times. I arrived at the small town and easily found the motel. I checked in, gave my name as the one who had called about booking a room at midday for a confidential interview, and left the office with the key to a “private room”. I drove to the room (just behind the main office–so much for real privacy) and parked my car. As the host, it was left for me to bring whatever bondage items would be used. At least my mind had not been clouded in that regard–I had just a box of ropes cut in various lengths, some large cloth handkerchiefs (bandannas actually) of various colors, and a roll of duct tape: basics, but nothing fancy–as per Rod’s and my agreement. I pulled the box from the trunk, and looked around at the few cars in the central parking lot; all the cars appeared empty. I unlocked the door, and entered the room. A typical motel room with two beds, a writing table and chair, television, and a well hidden bathroom. I sat down on one of the beds. Within two minutes a solid knock came at the door. That was quick!
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