Postby Bondage in Paris » Sun Aug 30, 2015 8:41 am
After a while, my captor finally comes back to me and unties me. In the meantime, it is already dark. When he removes the sweater in which he had encased my head, I can see and smell that he has arranged a decent dinner. Good news since I'm hungry.
He catches my glimpse and tells me that, before eating, he wants me to undress completely. I answer that it is quite cold to be naked outside, to which he replies not to worry, that he has what I need, showing me his heavy sweater that he’s still holding. I can see where he's going, I take off my own sweater, my shirt, my jeans, and everything else. He hands me his sweater, which I'm only too happy to put on. And to my surprise, I see him grab mine and put it on ("You're right, it's cold!, he says with a grin). We're symmetrically wearing each other's sweater, the only difference being that I'm naked under his.
Then we start dinner. A good hare pâté as a starter, with pickles and, no need to mention, a fresh and crispy baguette, then Toulouse sausages and beans, an excellent selection of cheeses, and a bottle of bordeaux that we drink off the bottle. What do you believe? We may be two French hot fetish and bondage gay guys, but we're also two French!
As I ask what's up for dessert, he gives me a sarcastic grin and asks me to sit against another tree, thiner than the previous one. Then, he ties my wrists behind the trunk. With another coil of rope, he makes several tight loops around the tree and my shoulders, and he blindfolds me with his bandana. After all, I cannot blame him for using his fetish on me.
He then crouches down on my legs and starts feeding me with the dessert that happens to be a delicious fruit salad. He makes me taste one fruit after the other, asking me to guess what it is: pears, peaches, bananas, grapes, oranges, grapefruits, raisins, all of them wet with a dose of rhum and flavoured with cinnamon. Some fruits I guess, some I don't. When I guess, I'm rewarded with a kiss (I remind you that we're French). Eventually, the taste and even more the consistency of the fruits change, become more watery. Finally, it is less and less fruits and more and more kissing. His saliva richly flavoured with the fruits and the rhum and the cinnamon tends to become the main ingredient of this very special dessert. At some point, he gently bends my head backwards, I can feel his face over mine, his lips invite mine to open and he makes me drink a sip of bordeaux of his mouth. I love it although it doesn't make it easy to guess the château or the vintage.
Dinner was almost over. Except that in France, on very special occasions, we indulge ourselves with a digestif. In this case, that is an old calvados. Everyone is familiar with the notion of second-hand items: I'm becoming familiar with that of second-mouth. Not being an amateur of liqueurs, I quite enjoy calvados this way: less strong in alcohol and therefore more tasty. Though don't understand this as a recommendation to share a digestif this way after a formal dinner.
During all this time, I can also feel his fingers play with my nipples through the scratchy wool of his sweater. An exquisite sensation: before you think it's weird, please have a try and tell me after.
To be continued, sleeping bags remain to be used...
Last edited by
Bondage in Paris on Wed Sep 02, 2015 12:41 am, edited 2 times in total.