On Friday afternoon, Ben waited at the bus stop in front of Makiki High School, keeping apart from the handful of other students gathered there. He was on his way to Carol Park's house, where he did chores and kept up the grounds to help earn money for his family. Just yesterday his mother had told him to keep his November wages so he could buy Christmas presents. It wouldn't be much, but he was glad to have some money of his own. At eighteen, it was his first.
He had started the job towards the end of last spring. His mother had told him about it and he had gotten it immediately, figuring that somehow his mother knew the woman in the big, lonely house on the hillside. At first he had just worked hard. Then, starting about three months ago, he had begun a series of adventures which were both extremely exciting and a surprise to himself.
He worked Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from about four to six, and weekends from nine. He usually saw Carol on Saturday morning, so the big jobs that they needed to discuss were done on Saturdays. These Carol paid for by the job, so he stayed as long as he needed to. Weekdays were mostly for weeding and pruning. It rained so much up on the hills of Tantalus that there was plenty to do.
Ben tended to come off to people as a bit slow. Carol no doubt had been fooled by this, so her expectations of how much he could get done were not too high. But he could be fast when he wanted to be, and he knew now, as he waited for his bus, that he could work fast and get a lot done in the second hour, just as he had been doing for several months. The dull ache from his asshole reminded him of the excitement that would take place beforehand.
When the bus came, Ben was careful to get on last, and found a seat to himself in the back. The seats were unpadded plastic, and when he sat down a little pain shot through him. He was determined to sit, but as the bus pulled away and starting its bouncing ride, vibrating wildly from the engine, he wondered if he could. Then his prick got really hard, and the thought of standing with such a bulge at the eye level of the seated passengers convinced him to stick to his game plan.
The day was cool and clear, the kind of October day that foretold of the coming winter rains. Ben had on blue jeans that were a bit loose and a wind breaker zipped to the neck. Under the wind breaker he wore a tee shirt with an ad for an auto parts store on the back. What was causing his current agony was underneath all that.
For several weeks he had skimmed a bit off his earnings before giving them to his mom, and had managed to save up twenty dollars. The day before he had gone shopping and bought a lady's dance leotard, which were very popular with girls now for everyday wear. He had selected a size small, sleeveless, with shoulder straps about an inch wide. It was black, and made of the shiny nylon spandex that excited him so much whenever he saw a girl wearing it. He had smuggled it into his room in his book back pack. That night, when he was sure that his sister and mother were asleep, he had tried it on.
It was, as he had hoped, a bit too small. He had experimented with one of his sister's, and knew that the fabric was very stretchy. With careful coaxing he finally got the straps up over his shoulders. The pull on his prick and balls felt wonderful, but he wanted more in the ass. He marked a spot on the crotch just behind his scrotum, then he peeled it off and wound a light nylon rope around the crotch, starting at his mark and continuing back for about three inches. After that it pulled up firmly between the cheeks of his ass, but he still wanted more. He added some extra rope with some knots right were his asshole came, and it was finished. Not only did the knotted lump put direct pressure on his asshole, but his prick was pressed firmly between his legs, and his entire torso felt a delightful sensation of constant pressure and tightness.
Once he was sure that the leotard was ready for action he peeled it off and laid it next to his pillow. Then he dug out the little jar of petroleum jelly he kept hidden in his closet, greased up his right hand, and went to work on his dick. The slippery goo produced a wonderful feeling, much better than when he just used his bare fingers. With it he had learned to stretch out his pleasure, enduring the intense sensations for as long as possible. Many a night he went at it for more than an hour, with fantasy after fantasy wheeling through his mind.
He began thinking about his leotard, imagining that a pretty girl at school was wearing one like it, and that somehow he knew that she had fixed it the way he had, only the rope came all the way around in front so that the crotch dug hard up into her cunt. He was watching from a short distance away, and she looked so sweet and lovely, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Only every now and then, when she moved, she winced slightly.
He drifted to a different fantasy, based on another of his favorite themes, a girl dressed in very sexy underwear, silky and shiny, that felt so good on her body that it kept her constantly aroused. It wasn't strong and direct, like the leotard. And it wasn't painful. Far from it. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but he could get really turned on imagining a girl enjoying such sensual bliss. He figured that loose fitting underwear, such as a camisole and tap pants, would move across her skin more than tight, skimpy stuff, so it ought to feel better.
This was an old fantasy, one of his first, one that he had come with hundreds of times. Lately he had begun to doubt its validity, but he continued to cling to it, like a child's teddy bear.
He settled on an image of two girls standing near him at recess, one wearing a leotard and blue jeans, the other wearing silky underwear under a mu'u mu'u, chatting with each other, neither knowing that the other was close to coming from the pleasure they felt. He stopped rubbing his dick and laid there trying to imagine what each girl was feeling.
For the one with the leotard up her ass and buried in the lips of her cunt, a burning pain blended with plenty of direct stimulation. The only thing missing was enough movement to bring her off, which left her hovering at the brink of orgasm, unable to come. Then the girl in the silk underwear, her breasts and crotch bathed in constant, delicate pleasure, so light yet so good. No pressure at all, and no way to come. She yearned to be able to reach her hand down and touch herself.
Every few seconds he gave his dick a little tweak, then stopped, forcing on himself a bit of the frustration he hoped the girls felt. Minutes passed, his body quivering as he tried to imagine the intense pleasure the silk produced, then again for the glistening, skin tight leotard.
Another theme entered. He was fascinated by girls' breasts, especially their nipples. And one of the thoughts that brought him intense pleasure could best be expressed by the phrase 'nipple torture.' Just thinking those words bathed him in lust. It sounded so terribly, terribly wicked, and even though he knew that very few women might enjoy such a thing, the idea of it filled him with desire.
He began stroking his dick continuously, but very lightly, and thinking about ways he might torture a girl's nipples. His disk swelled mightily as he set about his journey, as if to express its own approval. These fantasies were old friends. What he thought about was not a single episode, a carefully orchestrated encounter. Instead, it was a series of vignettes, a sampler of many of the things he had dreamt up over the last couple of years.
His victim was a very young and pretty friend of his sister's. She was kneeling on the floor, her arms tied behind her back, her ankles bound together. A length of rope ran from her ankles to her wrists to preclude her getting away.
He began with a collection of devices that shared a common element, that is, their construction was based on latex rubber tubing. The first, and simplest, was made from two narrow strands, perhaps an eighth inch in diameter. The two strands ran parallel to each other, and were bound together by heavy thread at four places. This simple device was to be worn like a bra, with one strand running across the wearer's breasts just above the nipples, and the other just below. The four bound places came just to the side of each nipple. The thin walled tubing was very stretchy, and when drawn tight and tied in back not only pulled hard against the wearer's tits, it also pinched their nipples.
The next version used a single strand of rubber tubing, together with a pair of metal rings about one inch in diameter that fit over each nipple. The tightness of the latex tubing forced the rings down hard around the nipples, making them bulge out. Sometimes he thought of a variation of this one in which the rings had serrated edges, not so sharp as to cut, but sharp enough to be very uncomfortable.
Yet another version used rubber suction cup like things in place of the rings. A little smaller then an egg cup, perhaps the size of a shot glass but with a more flared shape. He wanted the latex tubing to attach to the cups at the bottom, which would be the point farthest from the wearer's nipples, so as to pull the cups hard against her breasts.
His last device in this group was slightly different. Just two loops of latex tubing, each running around the base of a tit. A sliding collar would allow them to be cinched up nice and tight. It wouldn't work so well on flat chested orientals, but his fantasy victim was well enough endowed.
By now his cock was rock hard and swollen so big that it looked as though it was ready to burst. But he had many more ideas for nipple torture.
Clothespins. The smooth, wooden type, with springs to clamp with. He imagined in as much detail as he could how it would look as he clipped one on each of her tender, pink nipples. The look on her face as the pain swept over her. Her cries of anguish. The way her body would shudder.
He left them on for a few minutes, then removed them, much to her relief. But he only let her rest for a moment before trying out his next item, plastic clothespins with sharp teeth molded into them. These hurt even more.
His dick throbbed like a wild thing, ready to spew forth a flood of cum at any moment. He stroked it ever so carefully, holding off the explosion as long as possible.
Next came alligator clips, the kind used with electronic test equipment. These were extremely painful. He imagined how she would twist and turn in pain as the sharp teeth bit into her delicate flesh.
Now came something rather unusual. For this he tore out a page from a magazine and carefully rolled it into a thin, tight cone that came to a sharp point at one end. Then he began teasing her with the pointed end, stroking it over her breasts, poking her nipples, flicking it rapidly back and forth. After a few minutes the feeling became quite annoying, but despite her pleas for him to stop he kept it up, relishing her displeasure.
Whereas the paper was a delicate torment, what came next was unabashedly painful. He picked up a pair of Japanese scrub brushes, those round ones that look like donuts. He pressed them hard against her breasts, forcing her nipples down into the small opening at the center. Then he worked them around slightly, as if he were massaging her breasts. Howls of agony came from his victim as the stiff bristles poked all over her tender skin. When he pulled them off, her breasts stretched out until the nipples finally pulled free. He did this over and over, until tears welled from her eyes.
Finally he set the brushes aside, and took out a roll of monofilament fishing line. He cut off a short length and tied each end to a nipple, drawing it as tight as he dared without cutting her. Then he grasped the line and started to jerk lightly on it, which made her breasts dance around.
He could tell that he only had seconds left, so he went right to his favorite ending. With the fishing line still attached, he took out a small riding crop and started to spank her tits. The whip was small and light, so that it just produced a sharp sting. It was with this image in his mind that his cum shot out, arcing through the air and splattering all over his stomach. He laid still for awhile, gasping for breath, the fantasy having quickly faded away once the end was reached. Then he took out a small towel, wiped himself off, and fell quickly asleep.
Today he had taken the leotard to school, buried deep in his knapsack in a brown paper bag, and put it on during his last class, a photography lab, while locked in the darkroom. Ever since the girls at school began wearing them he had wondered what it felt like to be so tightly hugged all over, gradually adding to his fantasy, imagining the crotch pulled up into a girl's pussy, imagining girls buying them a size too small and tieing the crotch with rope, knots rubbing over their clits.
Sometimes he created in his mind a secret girl's club, in which they all wore leotards this way on a certain day of the week, meeting in the bathroom at recess and lunch to see that none had removed the rope. Any who did were subjected to some wild form of punishment after school, like being spanked by all the members, or having their pubic hairs plucked out one at a time, or having to walk through one of the big shopping malls wearing nothing but a loose mu'u mu'u with clothespins clipped to their nipples and the lips of their cunt.
Now, riding the bus to Carol's house, he wondered if the basis for his fantasies about leotards might just be correct. The tightness all over was delightfully sexy, and the intense sensation between his legs bordered on the unbearable.
At the next stop four high school girls got on. They all wore parochial school uniforms, loose white tops and white pleated skirts. The skirts were shamefully short, well above their knobby knees. Ben thought at once about the many fantasies he had based on girls dressed this way, all the more exciting due to their contrast with the sweet, innocent appearance of the subjects.
One revolved around a nun who was especially sadistic. Stories of nuns punishing misbehaving students with a rap on the knuckles with a ruler were commonplace. He liked to imagine a girl sent to the office for a particularly bad offense, one which she would do anything for to prevent her parents from finding out. The nun, sensing this, offers to let her do penance instead of filing a formal report. The girl agrees, and the nun takes some ironwood seed cones from a little box in her desk and slips them into the girl's bra. The girl has to keep them there for the rest of the day, or longer. The thought of the pain that would produce sent shivers running through him, and as he looked at the four girls standing in the isle nearby he tried to imagine them suffering this torment.
Then he had a new idea, which combined this fantasy with his newly discovered leotard. For a repeat offender the nun would make them wear a really tight leotard under their uniform, with the ironwood cones stuffed into the crotch. He thought with glee of the look on the poor girl's face as the little spiky cones dug into her cunt.
Then a pang of guilt hit him. Despite the erotic pleasure he derived from the fantasy, he found that when he looked at the four girls in front of him the thought of them actually suffering like that left him feeling disgusted.
They each wore a long satin tie that hung down in a loop, the ends tied in an overhand knot just below their waist. He wondered how it would feel if they ran it down the inside of their blouse, then under the waist band of their skirts, arranged so that the ends brushed against their cunts. Without bra and panties, the smooth satin ought to rub against their tits and tickle their cunts, producing the kind of constant, teasing stimulation that interested him so much.
He carried his idea further, imagining that their uniforms were soft and silky. The pleated skirts should feel really nice that way, flowing over their bare asses. This time, as he imagined the four girls dressed this way he felt none of the disgust he had before. The bus bounced its way down the road as he enjoyed watching the girls and imagining them getting hot and horny from the constant pleasure his modified uniform would produce, the same sort of pleasure he imagined coming from silky underwear.
A couple of stops later two girls got on and came back to stand just in front of him. They were a little older than him, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Both were Japanese American, and were very cute in that special way that petite local Japanese girls can be. He immediately noticed their clothes. They looked like they had just stepped out of his fantasies.
One wore tight blue jeans and a shiny leotard almost like his, except that it was wine colored and had long sleeves. The other girl was wearing a soft, fuzzy sweater and a white accordion pleated skirt.
The girl in the leotard seemed warm and outgoing. Her breasts were small and firm, nicely rounded and accentuated by the tight, shiny fabric. Her nipples were erect and showed clearly. Her belly was not real flat, but protruded a bit in the area of her navel, a trait he especially liked.
Watching her, he kept thinking about what he was feeling, and wished that she too had the crotch of her leotard bound with rope, or that he could do it to her's. And those nipples poking out so clearly made him think of those clothespins. He would give anything to be able to clip a clothespin on each of those cute little nipples, right over the leotard, and watch her cry out in agony.
The other girl was a bit skinny and did not smile so much, appearing cool, reserved, and distant. Her sweater was just tight enough to show the slight curve of her small breasts. Her skirt was outstanding, exactly what he had been thinking about for the other four girls. His prick got even harder than it already was.
The skirt was made of a soft, light fabric, some type of synthetic that might have been nylon, or even silk. The pleats were small, about half an inch wide, done so that they all stood on edge.
Ben had seen women wearing that sort of thing, especially when he was younger, and had always wondered how it would feel to have all those hard edges stroking your skin. Surely it would be stimulating, especially if worn without panties so the pleats could tickle the woman's ass, and especially her pussy. Even with panties the skirt should flick nicely across her thighs and, best of all, that ticklish spot behind the knees. Once he had seen a dress in a store window that was pleated full length, and he went crazy imagining how it would feel to a girl to have those little pleats brushing constantly over her bare nipples.
Ben thought how ironic it was that moments after rejecting the desire to stand for fear of placing his erection in someone's face, these two beauties should get on, dressed to tease him, and place their charms right in front of his eyes!
He knew that he was staring at them, but decided that this was too rare an opportunity to miss. He recalled one of Carol's lessons: Enjoy without embarrassment the things you like, while doing so with concern for other's feelings and right to privacy.
He thought about getting off when they did, following them and seeing where they live. Maybe he would find out that one of them was alone, and he could attack her and subject her to some of the sexual tortures that dominated his fantasies.
No. The thought was revolting. They were entitled to ride this bus without hassles, no matter how they were dressed. He would love to play with them, to spend a long afternoon cuddling them, kissing, rubbing, seeking ecstasy, loosing his virginity. Maybe theirs. He found that, even in the few seconds spent drooling over how they looked and what they wore, he had come to love them, and that he could not really hurt them. Maybe he loved them even before they got on the bus, before he ever saw them.
For a moment his heart was warm, and he felt at one with the world. Suddenly the door of the bus slammed shut with a whoosh, and they pulled out into traffic. Ben gazed thoughtfully at the jagged hem of that skirt as the rocking of the bus made it ripple and flow across the back of the girl's legs. At every bounce another pang shot from his asshole, and his prick struggled mightily against its tight nylon sheath.