Taste 2: Pittsburgh: M/M Sensory Deprivation

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Copyright © 2018 by Patient Lee

All Rights Reserved.

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The warm blast of heat as I opened the door of Tommy’s, the sports bar down the street from my office, hit me like a hug from my mother. It was frickin’ freezing in Philadelphia this week, and it didn’t look like it was gonna warm up any time soon. I was late getting out of work, again, and I’d already missed the first quarter of the Sixers game. It didn’t help that the bar was packed. I looked around for people I knew, but I could hardly walk, never mind see. I pushed my way to the bar, just as an older guy pulled his overcoat off the back of his chair and yelled a thank you to the bartender.

“You leaving, man?” I asked as I put my hand on the stool before somebody else grabbed it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just stopped for a beer. Basketball ain’t my thing.” He pushed his way through the crowd, and I bellied up to the bar. I arranged my coat on my chair and loosened my tie, checking the back on my Flyers tie tack to make sure it was secure.

“Stella Bella,” I called, flagging the bartender over. Her name was Stella, but that didn’t stop me from adding on the Bella. I’d been coming to this bar for four years, ever since I moved out of my parents’ house in King of Prussia to my townhouse in Rittenhouse Square. Stella was gorgeous. Long, brown, wavy hair, and an ass that filled her jeans to a level that most men would find delicious.

Most men. Not me. I came out in high school and took all the shit that came along with it, but I graduated and went to Penn State Main Campus. I got my degree in finance, and right after graduation, I got a job at PNC bank in Philly. It was a good job, not my dream job or anything, but I had a nice place to live and I was happy with my life. All that was missing was a guy who filled his jeans like Stella did. A nice package in the front wouldn’t hurt either.

Stella put the pitcher of Yuengling and a frosted glass in front of me. “How ya doing, Clarke?”

“Better now that I’m in here,” I said. “It’s fucking cold out there.”

She filled my glass, clucking her tongue and smiling. “It’s January in Philadelphia. What the hell did you expect?” The Geico commercial on the giant TV in front of me ended, and the second quarter of the game started.

I didn’t notice the guy next to me until I finished my burger. I was so hungry, and so focused on the game, I wouldn’t have noticed if a bomb went off. The Sixers were down by at least four for most of the second quarter, and I didn’t want to have to depend on the replay when they turned the tables on the Bulls.

The guy next to me hit me when the Sixers caught up. His arms flew in the air when Robinson tied the game. His hand clipped my head, and his head snapped toward me. The shocked look on his face was hilarious.

“I am so sorry,” he said. His eyes were wide, and I could see that he hadn’t even realized I was there.

“Quite a game, huh?”

“Yeah. Great game, now that we’re tied up.”

Stella leaned in between the two of us, looked at me, and said just loudly enough to hear over the noise in the bar, “I know for a fact he enjoys that.”

He blushed an adorable shade of red, but I did, too. I was already a couple beers in, so I didn’t control my mouth. “How does she know that for a fact, huh? Did Stella Bella tie you up?” I tried not to grin too widely. I didn’t want him to think I was coming on to him. I was coming on to him, but I’d been shot down in an embarrassing blaze of dismay enough times to stay cool.

“NO!” He said it loud enough for our whole side of the bar to hear. “I drank too much one night, and she—”

“She tied you up?” I laughed, mostly from discomfort. Bondage wasn’t in my bag of tricks. Neither was hetero sex.

“No.” He snorted out loud. “She coaxed the story out of me. This bachelorette party was discussing Fifty Shades of Grey. I made a comment, and she didn’t let it go until I told the story.” He took a long drink, draining his beer. “I am so freaking embarrassed right now.”

The game resumed, and I let it go for a few minutes. Stella stepped over and poured him another glass from my pitcher. I raised an eyebrow, but she said nothing, grinning with a mischievous glint in her eye. Stepping around to the tap, she refilled the pitcher, and she spoke to him. “Did you tell him all about it? I bet he’d love to know. I think he’s your type.” She looked at me and gestured to him with her head. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he, Clarke?”

I tipped my head. Was she trying to fix us up?

“Clarke, this is Joe. Joe, this is Clarke. I can’t believe you guys haven’t met here before.”

He had the same confused look as I did. “I usually work second shift, so I’m not usually here until midnight,” he said. “They got me on first shift this week.”

“What do you do?”

“Paramedic. I live around the corner, so I stop in a lot on the way home. Tonight, I just came to watch the game with someone other than my cat.”

“Ha! Same. I work during the day, but neither of my cats appreciate my obnoxious cheering. I’m in banking. Less exciting, but then again, so am I.”

The Sixers got a three-pointer, pushing them into the lead. Joe and I jumped up and cheered, along with the rest of the bar. He turned to me and gave me a deliberate high-five. Our eyes met for a moment, and a shiver ran through me. I tried to shake it off, but he was hot. And it had been a long time since I met someone. But was he gay? I wasn’t sure enough to risk it. Yet.

We returned our attention to the game, and I was grateful for the distraction. This guy was making me hard, and until I knew whether he was gay or straight, I didn’t want him to. The momentum had shifted to the Sixers, and they were up by eight points. Somebody across the room shouted, “Nothin’ like Philly sports. Nothin’!” The whole bar cheered, except Joe and me. We were busy feeling each other out.

Stella came around with bowls of popcorn. She put them down on the bar and stood there, looking from Joe to me and back to Joe. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “We’re watching the game.”

“I’ve done all the work for you two. If you blow this, it’s your own fault.” She snorted. “I mean, blowing would indicate success, but . . .”

My heart was pounding. He had to be gay. She had to be setting us up. He turned to me with raised eyebrows.

I grinned as the lump in my pants returned. “So then you . . .”

“Oh, thank goodness,” he said, grinning back.

The scoreboard buzzer on the TV echoed through the bar, and everyone jumped up, cheering. Without thinking, I leapt from my chair and hugged him. I was almost embarrassed, but before I had a chance to blush, his erection poked my thigh. Thank goodness is right.

We pulled back and locked eyes. “Well, this is interesting,” I said, grinning. All around us, bar patrons were putting on their Flyers hats and Eagles scarves, paying their tabs, and letting in the freezing air as they exited. In moments, the bar was quiet.

Stella stopped by one more time. “I left a pitcher and a piece of cake over in the corner booth. Go share. Get to know each other.”

* * * *

When the pitcher was empty, I hiccupped, and grinned sheepishly. “I think Stella Bella has gotten me tipsy, so you can take me home and have your way with me.”

He nodded. “You obviously can’t drive home like this. You’ll have to come crash at my place, I guess.” His smile made me wonder if the situation in his pants was the same as mine. “Stella Bella! Check please, sweetheart.”

We argued for a minute over who was paying the bill, but we were too horny to give it much effort, and we both ended up tossing a handful of cash on the table.

We stood up, and when he stood next to me to get his coat, he put his lips next to my ear. “I’m pretty glad she mentioned the ‘tying up’ now.” Panic shot through my stomach, but my dick disagreed. I closed my eyes and moaned, just loud enough for Joe to hear. He reached down and gave it a squeeze, leaving his hand there long enough to evaluate my junk. “Oh, yeah. We are gonna enjoy this.” He left a quick kiss on my ear as Stella collected the money, and we rushed to the door.

The cold air did nothing to cool my ardor, but the snow had picked up. I wrapped my Flyers scarf around my neck an extra time, wishing I had worn a hat.

“I think the meteorological term is snowing like a son-of-a-bitch!” He pulled his black and gold watch cap over his ears. We stepped into the blowing snow, and I shivered hard. “It’s just down there.” He gestured with his gloved fingers to the gift shop down the block. “I live upstairs.”

Three steps later, my toes were frozen through my wingtips. Joe was much better prepared for the cold than I. Better prepared for the snow, too. I’d lived my entire life in the suburbs of Philadelphia, and I still didn’t think to put my damn boots on in the winter. My heel slid right through the snow, and I fell to the sidewalk, my skull hitting the snow-cushioned pavement.

My rational mind knew it was Joe’s paramedic training which pushed him to cradle my head with such care, but my rational mind was on break. I gazed into his eyes, and serenity engulfed me. He shifted his head, and the snow and the streetlight formed a perfect halo around his heavenly face. I heard horns—the angels, I guessed, but Joe’s head snapped up, his eyes went wide, and everything went dark.

* * * *

The blackout affected a big chunk of the city, but the accident which prompted the horns I heard happened right in front of Tommy’s, the sports bar we’d just left. No one was injured, but it was freaking dark. No streetlights, no neon, no LED signs flashing open, and now that the accident blocked the one-way street, no headlights.

While I was still lying on the sidewalk, I encouraged Joe to go to the accident. I could tell he was itching to help.

“I already have a patient. I can’t abandon one patient for another without transferring care,” he said, his voice all business. He helped me to my feet once he’d finished his assessment and determined I was okay. “Besides, I can’t show up on scene with a boner like this.” He held my arm after that, which was just dandy with me. We were close in height, and the traces of his aftershave drew me in.  

He fumbled with the key when we reached the dark entrance to his apartment. “Jesus. It’s so dark, I won’t even need to blindfold you.”

“Blindfold?” I choked on spit as I said it.

He chuckled as he pushed the door open and flipped the switch on the wall, which did nothing but make both of us snort. “What Stella said in the bar? About being tied up? That’s how I like it. If you’re not into it, that’s okay, too.” He opened the refrigerator. “God dammit. I open the fridge for light when I’m too lazy to walk to the light switch.”

“Force of habit. I know. It won’t stop me from laughing at you, though,” I said, finally recovered from my choking fit. “Let’s go back to what Stella said. You like to be tied up? Or do you like tying people up?” I didn’t know which answer I hoped for, but my dick didn’t care either way. I was painfully hard.

Beer bottles clinked, and he stepped in close to me. “I’m a bit of a switch, but mainly, I like to be the one calling the shots.” His dick was as hard against my thigh as his beer bottle was against my arm.

I swallowed to stall for time. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“What? Being tied up or tying somebody else up?” He laughed as he twisted my words.

“Neither. I’m terrified.” I tried to sound casual, but it was the truth.

He twisted the cap off the beer and took a swig before handing it to me. I took a long pull, and then he took it back, placed it on the counter, and his hands went to my face. He shoved me with his shoulder against the closed door and kissed me. The kiss consumed me. He moaned as his weight held me tightly against the door, his hands stroking the stubble on my face. When he finally let up, he released me, took my hand, and led me out of the kitchen through the dark hallway.

“Careful. There’s stuff on the walls.”

“Stuff?” With all this talk of being tied up, I was afraid of what he might say.

“Sports stuff. Posters, autographs, hockey pucks, baseball bats. I’m a collector.” He led me around something larger. “That’s a football.”

“I could use the flashlight on my phone,” I said. “Then I wouldn’t knock over your stuff.”

Before he could answer, I yelped, nearly knocking an unidentified artifact off the wall when something furry brushed my ankle.

“Sid!” Joe shouted. I took another step, this time stomping right on the cat’s tail. He yowled, I stumbled, and Joe laughed as we reached his bedroom. The darkness stifled me at first when he closed the door, as if the room lacked oxygen instead of light. I felt the bed against my leg, and he kissed me again.

“This blackout is the sexiest thing I’ve experienced in a long time, Clarke. Let’s ride it out. I have something special in mind.”

“Special makes me nervous.” I could hardly see his face when our noses were touching. He kissed me, and his tongue probing my mouth did little to ease my anxiety.

“I need you to trust me,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Stella’s my reference. She wouldn’t have set us up like this if she didn’t trust both of us.” The pleading tone in his voice made me lean in and kiss him again.

I sighed. “I know this is crazy, but I’m so horny right now, if we don’t do this, I’m gonna die of blue balls anyway. Just don’t chop me into little pieces or make stew out of me after, okay?” I knew it was dangerous. I couldn’t even look around his apartment to see if it looked normal. His bedroom could have been a scene from Criminal Minds, for all I knew, but the danger made it even hotter.

As if on cue, the door thumped, sending me a foot into the air. “Jesus Christ, Sid. Damn cat,” he said, rising to let the cat in. He leapt onto the bed, rubbed his face on me a couple times, and got down again.

Joe laughed, breaking the tension. Leaning against my lips again, he said, “I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He pulled back, and I could still feel his breath on my skin. “Unless you want me to. I have an amazing collection of floggers and paddles.”

The surge I felt in my groin was hard enough to make me moan. My voice was husky when I finally spoke. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if I walk out of here without doing whatever it is you want me to do, I’ll regret it forever.”

I locked lips with him again, and we made out until his hand snaked into the back of my hair and yanked, snapping my head back. He was serious about this.

So was I.

His lips went to my throat, and I whimpered, desperate for what was to come. “I trust you,” I said in a whisper. “Tell me what to do.”

“Sit.” We both plunked to the bed, and he took my hands. “I promise you. I will not do anything you don’t want me to.”

My voice shook as I replied. “I’m scared as fuck and three times as aroused, so do what you want, and I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

“Good boy,” he said, sending another thrill to my privates. “Here’s how it works. Green, yellow, red.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to put a blindfold on you so if the lights come on, you still won’t see.”

I laughed nervously. “And is that when you take out a circular saw and cut me in half?”

He kissed me. “Clarke, honey, we both know power tools won’t work in a blackout.” We cracked up, bringing down the anxiety in the room, but not the tension between us.

“Clarke, I know this is crazy. I wish this blackout happened when we were dating for a few months, after we already knew each other, but I am so fucking turned on by the dark.” He put my hand over his fly. His cock was huge and as hard as a baseball bat. “I know you are, too.” His hand went to my hard-on. “If you can trust me, we will have an incredible experience.”

After a few deep breaths, I knew. There was no turning back. The thought of dating for a few months was as irresistible as being tied up in a blackout. I was smitten. “Okay.”

The glee in his voice made me smile, despite my nerves. “This is one of my favorite things to do with a sub.”

I cut him off right there. “Wait. I’m a sub?”

He kissed my nose. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just a thing. Take a deep breath and ignore the label.”

Sucking air in through my nose, I tried to force myself to relax. “I’ve never felt submissive before. I’m usually the person telling other people what to do, you know. Submissive is weak.”

“Not true at all. Putting your trust in me and letting go is powerful. I’m not going to push you around or bully you. I’m going to make you feel things. If you don’t like what you feel, you call it off. You have the real power; I’m just making the decisions.” He gave me a minute to let it sink in. “And that’s why you’ll love this. No decisions, no plan to create. You don’t even need to think. Just feel.”

“Feel.” Another deep breath. “I got this. I think.”

Joe caressed my cheek as he went on. “We’re gonna do some sensory play. The blackout has already taken your sight, and I’ll restrain you so you can’t move. Without being able to see, you will feel things more acutely. It might be torture, but I guarantee you will love it.” He gave my cock a squeeze through my dress pants. “If we’d met earlier than a couple hours ago, I would take it a step further and give you earplugs, but you run more risk of tapping out before we’re, ahem, finished.”

“Ha,” I chuffed. “Okay. Finishing is important.”

“I’ll ask you what color you are. Be honest. If you like it, say green. I’ll keep going, and crank it up a bit. If you tell me yellow, I won’t stop, but I won’t get any more intense. Red will stop me immediately.”

“Green, yellow, red. I got it, but what if I just can’t go through with this whole thing? What if I just completely freak the fuck out?”

He paused only a fraction of a second. “Stella Bella.”

“Stella Bella?”

“That’s your safeword. You say Stella Bella, and I take off the blindfold and the restraints, and you’re free.”

“And then what? Just put my pants and go home?”

He chuckled. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?”

“Okay.” Deep breath. “I trust you.”

He put his forehead against mine for emphasis. “I trust you, Sir.”

“I trust you, Sir.”

Damn. Shit just got real.

“Good boy. Now take off your clothes. I’m leaving mine on for now. Makes me feel powerful.” He gave an evil-sounding laugh that tapered into a happy chuckle, and I stripped as quickly as possible.

“Now wh—”

He put his finger over my lips. “No. You don’t talk unless I ask you a question. The only time you’re allowed to talk is to ask me if you may come. And I might say no.” His voice smiled, but I knew he was serious. I wondered what he’d do if I didn’t follow his directions.

He read my mind. “Will you allow me to spank you if you fail to do what I ask?”

I nodded with no hesitation. 

“With my hand?”

I nodded again.

“With a flogger?”

Another nod.

“With a cane?”

I couldn’t shake my head hard enough. “No—”

His finger returned to my lips. “No, my hunky little sub. No talking. Don’t worry, I won’t cane you, but once I have you strapped to my bed with your ass in the air, I’ll spank you for this mistake. Nod if you understand.” He continued to seal my lips as I nodded. He looked me in the eyes and smiled, our noses brushing. “Good boy. You’re gonna love this.”

With his hand on my arm, he laid me back on the bed. “Go ahead. Get comfortable.” I adjusted myself on the pillow. His mattress was divine. Memory foam or something. “All set?”

I hesitated, trying to remember if I was allowed answer him. “Yes, Sir?”

“Say it like you mean it, tiger.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“There you go.” He moved to the side of the bed, took my right hand in his, and kissed my palm before wrapping the Velcro cuff around my wrist. After adjusting it so I had little room to move, he hooked it to the strap he pulled from under the mattress, and he went to my foot. “You are so sexy.” He kissed my ankle and cuffed me tightly before moving to my left limbs. When he was done, I couldn’t budge. My nose itched, prompting my arm to fight my restraints. I sighed with exasperation, and he laughed at me. “I’ll be right back.”

He left me there in the dark.

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