15 Bondage Boys

I was fantasizing about tying up guys before I even knew about sex.  Maybe it's the sense of power and control.  Or the extra bulge in his muscles -- and other parts -- as he struggles to "escape."  Or just the spectacle of his entire body spread out before you like a vast unknown continent, waiting to be explored.

The problem is, I'm just into the basic bondage, not pain, humiliation, verbal abuse, and all the other advanced things that BDSM fetishists like.  So whenever I find a guy who admits to being into BDSM, he wants to do far more than I do.  I like newcomers, introducing guys who have rarely, or never, been tied up before.

Here are 20 boyfriends and hookups who were into bondage or other BDSM scenes.

College

1. In fifth grade, we visited my Indian relatives, and I had my first Indian sausage sighting and BDSM scene.

2. Fred the Ministerial Student.  My first real boyfriend, a ministerial student in the United Church of Christ.  He was into being tied and spanked.

3. My geology professor used to throw handcuff parties for his advanced students.  All boys, a box of handcuffs, nothing beneath the belt.

West Hollywood

4. Within a few days of moving to West Hollywood, I found Mugi, the gay Asian bar, and accepted a date with Huan, who had only been in the U.S. a short time and didn't speak English well.  But he had a closet full of home made bondage equipment.

5. Will, who had a very nice house in Silverlake, and liked kidnapping, POW, and cannibalism scenes. He was obsessed with Sweeney Todd, "the greatest musical ever made."

6. David, the Orthodox Cute Young Thing, who disapproved of Gentile guys.

7. Larry from Nashville.  I helped him find his fetish.

San Francisco

8. The Slave Boy of Castro Street.   I borrowed him from his master for the night.


New York

9. I went home with a cute twink from the New York Bondage Club, and ended up in an all-night session.

10. Blake, the opera buff I dated.  The only black guy I've ever known who was into it.

11. Jared, the first HIV positive guy that I dated, that I knew about.  He wanted to go to the New York Bondage Club for his birthday, and get tied up for the first time.

Florida

12. The Boy Who Cried Fabulous, who I introduced to BDSM mostly just to shut him up.

Ohio

13.  Ethan, the boy in the wheelchair, who wanted to be tied up anyway.

Upstate

14. Troy, the 23-year old French major, wanted to try being a top, so we found a twink for him to practice on.

Plains

15. The boy with daddy issues who wanted to rip my clothes off.

Raul and I Bankrupt the Porn Industry

West Hollywood, November 1986

On November 19th, 1986, my roommate Alan the ex-porn star, who kept trying to steal  my boyfriends, threw me a surprise birthday party. After the present-unwrapping and cake, he introduced Raul and me to an older, balding guy named Scott and asked "What do you think?"  .

"I'll need to see them in action, of course. But they certainly have the right look."

"Um...thanks?"  I turned to Alan for an explanation.

"Surprise! Guess what -- that pocket organizer wasn't your only present.  I set you up to star in  Scott Masters' new movie!"

He was the head of Nova Studios, a major producer of.... I reddened.  "You want me to do porn?"

"Alan recommended you and Raul," Scott said.  "It's a great script: funny and romantic, not just sex.  That's why we want lovers, to add verisimilitude."

"But...I'm not an actor."  I had a brief modeling career in college, but no nudity, and certainly no sex.

"You don't need to act.  Just do what you do anyway.  $800 a day for a guaranteed five-day shoot."  

The money sounded good (my three jobs were't paying enough to cover rent, tuition, and jaunts to Australia and Japan).  And Raul liked the idea (Filipino restaurants don't pay well, either.) So we signed on, and that Saturday we got up at 4:00 am to shoot some exteriors at the San Miguel Mission in San Luis Obispo.

The script didn't require a lot of memorization.  In old Spanish California, Rodrigo (my character), falls in love with Paco (Raul), an apprentice monk at the mission.

But Paco is secretly the kept boy of the homophobic Archbishop "Farwell" (a play on Jerry Falwell). There's a duel that ends with a three-way encounter.

A few days later we drove to a house in the Hollywood Hills to film some of the bedroom and pool scenes (yes, the old Spanish mission had a pool.).  I wondered who would be playing Farwell. Boomer Stryker?  Kip Noll?

I didn't find out until he walked through the door -- Alan!

Was this all just a set-up to trick with Raul?

"Hey, they needed a husky guy, and I'm a preacher, so I have the right vibe."  He grinned.  "Tricking with Raul is just a bonus."

We were going to shoot the Farwell-Paco first.  That meant I had to watch Alan and my boyfriend together!

"They're just acting!" I told myself over and over.  I started thinking of last September, when my date wandered into Alan's bed.  And a year ago, when Alan and I were dating, and he cheated on me with a Norwegian con artist.  And now he was with Raul.  They were kissing...and groping...and kissing...with obvious enthusiasm!

I couldn't take it anymore!

"Get off him!" I ran over and pulled Alan away. "He's my boyfriend!  You always do this!  Every time I meet a guy, you horn in...."

They looked up at me quizzically.

"No ad libbing!" the director yelled.

Flushed with embarrassment and anger, I stumbled away.  "I'll...I'll be waiting in the car."

Raul followed, saying something like "It's just a job, man..."

The aftermath:
1. The film was never completed, but we did get paid for two days of shooting.
2. Alan forgave me: "I know you have hangups about monogamy."
3. Raul and I broke up, but not over that. We stayed friends, and reconciled a few months later, after my celebrity boyfriend dumped me.
4. Nova Studios went bankrupt.  But surely that's not my fault.

See also: Alan's Arrests.

An All-Nighter at the New York Bondage Club

New York, November 1997

I was fantasizing about tying up guys before I even knew about sex.

Maybe it's the sense of power and control.

Or the extra bulge in his muscles -- and other parts -- as he struggles to "escape."

Or just the spectacle of his entire body spread out before you like a vast unknown continent, waiting to be explored.

So the moment I arrived in New York in 1997,  I joined the NYC Bondage Club,  It met from 8-11 pm on Sunday nights in the basement of a nondescript building in Chelsea, about 10 blocks from Penn Station.

There were three rooms with bondage beds, slings, a St. Andrew's Cross, and jail cells.  Snacks and sodas were provided; you had to bring your own ropes and bondage equipment.  30-50 guys came, mostly middle aged and older, a lot of chubbies and bears, not many twinks.

Most activity considered of ordinary bondage, teasing, and tickling, but there were also guys into heavy BDSM scenes: flogging, whipping, hot wax, electroshock, mummification, water sports, fisting.

But no "vanilla" sex.  By New York law, no oral or anal contact was permitted.

Which many of the guys didn't mind: BDSM scenes were the pinnacle of their erotic experience.  But I would have preferred some body contact.

There was a lot of hooking up after the Bondage Club ended, but I had a problem:  if I stayed overnight in the City, I would have to be up at 5:00 am to catch the 6:00 am train to Long Island for class.

And if I invited someone back to my place on Long Island,  they would have the same problem.

Besides, Chelsea was as provincial as West Hollywood.  If you didn't live in a gay neighborhood, they didn't want to know you.

I would never admit that I didn't live in Manhattan.

So I made do with standard vanilla bondage scenes, tying up guys and fondling them, and then rushing out into the night at 9:45 like Cinderella about to turn into a pumpkin.

Until Dustin invited me home.

He was by far the most attractive of the Bondage Club regulars, a dark-haired, dark-eyed twink with a wide smile and a ready laugh, plus a smooth, hard chest, baseball-biceps, and turtle-shell abs.  He liked moderate scenes, with no pain, just tickling, fondling, edging, and kissing.

"I also like oral and anal sex while I'm tied up," he said, "But of course we can't do that here."

Dustin bottomed for at least two guys per night.  They inevitably asked him back to their place afterwards, but he refused: "I have to get up early for class."

I never topped him, although I tried to join in with his scenes with others.  He was too experienced, exploring subtle nuances of BDSM practice.  My basic interests would be too elementary, kindergarten-ish, inept.

But one night I found him relaxing between scenes, sitting naked on a red couch, drinking a soda.  We started chatting, and then we started kissing  Before I knew it, we had been lying on the couch, kissing and fondling, for almost an hour.

"Why don't we go back to my place?" he murmured.

"Well -- I have to catch the 6:00 am train from Penn Station."

"No problem, I live just a few blocks from a Metro Line that goes directly to Penn.  You'll have plenty of time."

Ok, I was new to New York, I didn't know what a Metro Line was.  I assumed a subway somewhere in the Village.

We left the Bondage Club at 9:30, and arrived at Penn just in time to miss the 9:45 Metro Line.  The next one was at 11:45!

But there were no other trains to Long Island until 6:00 am.  I was in Manhattan for the night.

Back to the Bondage Club, then to a pizza-by-the-slice place.  Then to Penn, where we caught an 11:45 Metro Line that listed cities I had never heard of: Mahwah, Ho-Ho-Kus, Warwick.

"Wait -- don't you live in Manhattan?" I asked.

"Well -- no, not actually," Dustin admitted.  "But you know how guys in gay neighborhoods are.  I didn't want to turn you off.  And it's not far, believe me.  You'll have plenty of time to catch your train at Penn tomorrow."


On the way, Dustin told me that he was studying biology at Fairleigh Dickinson University, planning to become a doctor.  He had always known he was gay, and had his first bondage scene at age 14.

An hour later, at 12:45 am, we arrived in Allentown, New Jersey, about 20 miles away.  Then Dustin drove us about three miles past something called a Celery Farm, to a very large suburban house.

"You live here?"  What college student could afford such a place? My heart sank.  "You don't live with your parents, do you?"

"This is my boyfriend's house.  I actually live in the dorms, but I stay with him on weekends."

Boyfriend?

"Um...do you think that, anytime during the last three hours, you might have mentioned the boyfriend waiting at home?"

"Didn't I mention him?  Sorry -- I guess I assumed everybody knew.  He comes to the Bondage Club all the time.  Except tonight he was too tired.  He said I could bring home someone to share, though."

Back in West Hollywood, Lane and I would often bring home a third person to share.  Becoming that third person was quite a different matter, though. Especially at 1:00 am.

The boyfriend, Stan, was up, watching David Letterman or some such talk show: a middle aged muscle bear, bald, bearded, hirsute, obviously a gym rat.  He enveloped us both in bear hugs, and then dragged us into the kitchen to eat egg salad sandwiches and brownies and drink coffee.  I wasn't at all hungry, but ok....

"So, are we up for vanilla or a BDSM scene this evening?" Stan asked.

It was 2:00 am.  I had to be up in 3 hours.  I just wanted to go to bed.  "How about some plain old kissing and cuddling?" I suggested.

"Oh, we can do better than that!" Dustin exclaimed.  "There's a fully-stocked dungeon in the basement.  You can double team me.  Or you can top us both -- Stan is versatile."

"How about a POW scene?" Stan said.

"Or an incest scene?" Dustin suggested.  "You know, where you humiliate the father by forcing him to have sex with his son?  We just need to set up the roles."

So we set up the roles and the dungeon.  Fueled by caffeine from the coffee and sugar from the brownies, I tied them up, "forced" them to kiss, and then "forced" Stan to top Dustin.  I was too tired to do any vanilla sex of my own.

By the time the scene ended, it was 4:00 am.  "You know what?" I said.  "I'm skipping class tomorrow...um...I mean today.  Let's just go to bed!"


"Um..well, I have to go to work," Stan said.  "And Dustin has to get back to campus.  But we can all go out for a nice breakfast before you catch your train."

We grabbed some pancakes at an all-night diner -- our third meal in six hours!  -- and they put me on the 5:15 am train to Penn Station.

Which arrived just as the train to Long Island was leaving.  I didn't make it home until noon.

See also: My First Indian Sausage Sighting and BDSM Scene; a Hookup with Barry and the Poz Boy.