--- This is a slow paced story focused around male on male handjob, edging and frottage, with lots of affection and care. No fast dicking here.---
"No, no, no... you can't do this to me again... please, Tommy..."
A sweaty jock, with his muscular hairy legs spread wide across the bed and similarly buffy arms tied behind his back, was almost ready to cry. His red, tired face was ignoring the mirror in front of him, focused only at his craving, pulsing, begging prick.
Said jock, named Logan, was leaning against a much slimmer, smaller guy, who was currently situated behind him. His name was Tom. His handsome, young face was lit with a smile; his boyish hand was massaging Logan's bloody boner, in long, painfully slow and cruelly gentle strokes.
"Hey, Logan. Look," the boy whispered into his ear, pointing at the mirror. Jock's mind, overwhelmed by the erotic haze, barely found the strength to look up. "Look how sexy you are."
Logan smiled, even though it seemed that all he could think about now was busting a nut. Tommy was always so precious to him. Always complimented him, always made sure to appreciate him. And these weren't just mere words. Logan could see that his friend's eyes kept admiring every inch of his body. He never felt this sexy or confident about himself before. During his life, he got used to chasing girls, praising them, putting their comfort and pleasure on the first place. It wasn't bad, but it felt great to be on the receiving side of that, too.
His beefy pecs were dripping sweat, both from their combined body warmth and the excitement. Big red nipples had currently clamps on them -- something that Tommy implemented merely two sessions ago. Logan absolutely hated the pain they have brought... but at the same time, also kind of loved it. They matched this entire experience's conflicting vibe really well. After all, Logan used to spend entire days at work craving the evening, just to see Tom and have his caged cock out for a play.
But during this session and after them, he would be a pure mixture of chaotic emotions -- frustration, hope, despair, love, anger, hate... That wasn't just pure, easy to define pleasure.
A week has passed since their first try and Logan received no true orgasm, despite being masturbated like hundred times. 95% of these jerk offs would end with an edge, but the remaining ones have been ruined orgasms. Calm and collected Logan absolutely loved those, but horny Logan fell into hysteria twice while receiving them. They've been the cruelest sensation he had ever endured.
All of the sudden, Tom pulled the little chain dangling from Logan's nipples. Jock moaned and started breathing heavily, having his manly tits pulled without mercy. Tom repeated the movement and this time, the clamps slid off of his nipples, freeing them, which sent and spread a jolt of incredible pleasure mixed with pain across his entire body. That seemed to have triggered enough of excitement for his orgasm to build up immediately...
"Oh my God-- please!" Logan shouted, taking a deep breath and holding it. His buff torso expanded, muscles tensed, few drops of sweat that has been holding tight to his skin released and slid down his stomach.
Tom's hand speed increased. His long fingers carefully caressed the shaft and penis head, while the other hand kept massaging his nutsack. In helpless, overwhelming shot of pleasure, Logan's toes curled up. It was it. The pleasure stacking in his dick was so incredibly big and Tom wasn't stopping... it must have been it. He chose this moment to grant him the first orgasm. That must have been it, he never brought him that far this confidently, after all...
Logan made a wide smile, closed his eyes, pushed his head back. His dick started pumping cum...
And only then, Tom immediately retracted his hands and stopped touching Logan at all.
"NOOOO!" Logan yelled with his full voice, not caring about their other roommates. For a moment he was convinced that he would at least score a ruined orgasm, but that also turned to be not the case. His semen sank back down into his balls and all he could do was to slowly lie down on bed, almost crushing Tommy with his massive back, and desperately try to hump on air. "NO, NO, NO, NO!" His hips kept pushing, as if he was fucking an invisible hole. "No... please... no..." Logan cried, as he realized it's all for nothing. "Tommy, I beg you..." he whimpered, as two tears escaped both of his eyes, running down his cheeks.
Tommy, who barely escaped getting hammered by Logan's muscular back, sat next to him on bed and now started lovingly massaging his pecs, while watching his friend sob.
"Let it all go, Logan," Tom whispered. "Take as long as you need, I'm with you."
Logan listened. He allowed himself to feel this despair, to embrace it and release it.
He couldn't make himself cum. He couldn't make Tom make him cum. He couldn't move his wrists freely. He couldn't rise his tied feet up. He didn't know why, but all of it made him feel so incredibly good, relaxed and paradoxically, free.
Tom patiently waited for him to regain his calmness. When it happened, Logan smiled and laughed, embarrassed.
"Geez, I can't believe I cried so much again!" he brushed it off. "Over a nut! Will you untie me now?" he requested, rising up.
"You weren't crying over a nut," Tom said gently, meddling with the restraints. "You've been withholding too many emotions, Logan. No wonder you craved to be controlled so much. You can't be a director both in work
and
after that. You need to have time in your life when... well..." Tom took a second to find the right word, "...you're just a bitch that gets bullied and denied."
That narrative definitely explained Tom's actions during this week. Completely unprovoked, he did many playful things that brought Logan misery. First of all, two times already he made the tied Logan watch as he masturbates himself, with the difference that he obviously reached his delicious orgasm freely and quickly, without any trouble.
Also, while showering Logan's dick out of chastity, he was making the water either unbearably hot, or completely cold -- and Logan's cock and testicles had to endure all of it. Later, he allowed Logan to try and cum by humping the cold bathroom tiles. And he--as the silly, horny jock that he was--actually attempted that, while Tom was standing in front of him, watching with a superior smile as Logan effectively pretends to be a worm.
"My cock is still stiff," Logan noticed, while Tom was busy untying his ankles, bound to the bottom side of bedframe.
"Do you want to touch it?" Tom tempted him, smirking naughtily, since the jock had his hands free for the moment. Logan also smiled, hesitating to answer. "Go on," Tom encouraged him. "It's my dick, after all. I get to decide who gets to touch it."
Logan confidently grabbed Tom's junk, but the one that was actually attached to Logan's body, and almost sighed in deliciousness of his own touch. Nothing could replace his own grip on it -- secure one, that would certainly not fucking disappear right before the climax...
But he had only like ten seconds of this particular self-love, as the moment Tommy freed his leg, he jumped on him, pushing him on his back. Logan caught him and allowed the boy to sit on his muscular abs, while holding hands on his hips.
"When will you let me cum?" Logan asked, not exactly in a serious tone, but with a clear ring of hope to it.
"I will be very honest with you, Logan: I don't know. Only the first time I lied my hand on your cock, I did not consider letting you reach the orgasm. Each time after that, I was thinking about it." Tom leaned over and kissed his jock's cheek. "But I guess there's no point in hiding that from you. In the next ten times, I will let you cum."
Logan looked at him, surprised, and then smiled, so naturally that his perfect teeth showed up.
"Wait... for real?"
"Of course, I would never lie to you." Tom chuckled and kissed his neck. "Don't get too excited, though. I never told you how many days it will take us to reach those ten times..."
"Man, you're killing me..."
Tom reached for the bottle of water lying on the dresser.
"Now, hydrate," Tom ordered, bringing the bottle to his jock's mouth.
