“I bought a camcorder,” said Hutch, as soon as Starsky opened his door.
said Starsky, who had no idea why Hutch needed a camcorder. Or for that matter,
why he felt he had to bring it over to Starsky’s house. Cutting edge technology
wasn’t usually Hutch’s bag.
Hutch hoisted the large box in
his arms a little higher. “You told me we’d have to get film from
the Super 8 camera professionally developed. That’s why we couldn’t
put anything pornographic on it,” he said. “So I went out and bought
us the latest Panasonic camcorder. It’s capable to taping up to nine hours
on a standard VHS tape. When we’re done, all we do is pop it out and stick
it in the VCR.”
On the other hand, sex definitely
was Hutch’s bag. And he’d
been very put out when Starsky had explained the impracticality of filming the two of them together for real.
“I can’t play that
format,” said Starsky. “I’ve got a Beta, remember?” Not to mention, Hutch was also very much into the concept of creative revenge. After what Starsky had done to him the last time they’d gotten together, he
was probably well within his rights to demand some.
“I bought a new VCR, too,”
said Hutch, gesturing over his shoulder with his chin. “Why don’t
you get it out of the car while I bring this stuff in?”
Starsky didn’t move. “The whole filming us thing was a joke, Hutch.
I didn’t mean we should really make a tape of us, uh...” He
stopped, overwhelmed by a vision of Hutch in a scrolling filmstrip of pornographic positions.
Hutch sighed. “Sony Corp. v. Universal City Studios,
1984. Home videotaping is legal in the United States.”
“But this ain’t a
birthday party you’re planning to record.” If anyone else ever saw
it, they could both lose their jobs. This whole plan was ridiculously dangerous.
Dangerous. Starsky felt his groin tighten at the thought. He shifted
position uncomfortably. God dammit, this was what always got him in trouble at
work. The minute things got exciting, his dick would stand at attention.
“This box is heavy and
my arms are getting sore,” said Hutch, who was clearly tired of waiting on Starsky’s front step. “Go get the VCR!” Hutch stomped inside, using
his shoulder to push Starsky out of his way.
All the way out to the car, Starsky’s
mind raced. He’d anticipated there’d be retribution after he’d
tied Hutch to his bed last week, but this was far more elaborate than he’d expected.
Hutch was spending real money on this project.
Starsky pulled the brown cardboard
box containing the VCR out of the back seat of Hutch’s car. “Maybe,”
he mused aloud, “he really is secretly rich.”
He shut the car door. It swung open again. Starsky tried again, this time using
his foot to kick it closed. “Or maybe,” he said, “he just saves
a bucket load of money on car repairs.”
In any case, where Hutch had
found the money for a camcorder and VCR wasn’t important. Not compared
to the very pressing question of what exactly Hutch planned to do with them. Starsky
imagined tying Hutch to the bed again and going down on him with the camcorder recording everything. Kinky, but... intriguing. And definitely dangerous. His cock twitched again.
By the time Starsky got back
up the stairs to the house, he was hard with anticipation. He found Hutch sitting
in the middle of the living room floor in front of the open camcorder box. He
put the VCR down on the floor next to Hutch.
Hutch glanced up just in time
to catch Starsky with his hand down the front of his pants, adjusting himself.
“You’re a sex maniac.” Hutch went back to reading the instruction booklet included with the camcorder.
Starsky didn’t try to deny
it. Stepping over the Styrofoam inserts scattered over his carpet, he picked
up the camcorder. It looked like a slightly smaller version of the cameras that
newsmen carried. He turned it on its side and popped open the cassette holder.
“This looks pretty straight
forward,” said Starsky, as he examined the camcorder. “Battery pack goes in here, tape goes in there, press the on button –.” The camcorder began to hum loudly and he almost dropped it. “Whoops!”
Hutch grimaced. “Look, why don’t you go set that up in the bedroom. I’ll
get your new VCR hooked up to the TV.”
Starsky put the camcorder on
his shoulder and pointed it at Hutch. “Say, hi!”
“Hi,” said Hutch,
waving distractedly. He opened the VCR box.
“Where’s the instructions?”
Starsky tried a few of the knobs
on the camcorder. It wasn’t that different from his camera. Within a minute, he’d found the focus wheel. He tried
zooming in on Hutch’s nose, but Hutch swatted him away.
“Starsk, I’m trying
to concentrate!” Hutch sounded exasperated.
He had found a folded insert and was squinting at the small print.
Starsky peered over his shoulder. The diagram looked as if it was labeled in Japanese.
When Hutch got up onto his knees
to dig right down into the bottom of the VCR box, Starsky scooted around behind him and got a good close up of his ass. “You know, if you took off all your clothes, we could play hot lonely guy meets
“Get out of here,”
Starsky sighed, switched off
the camcorder and took it back to the bedroom. He propped it up on the dresser,
pointed it at the bed, and adjusted the focus. Then he stepped back to admire
It was a nice toy, decided Starsky. Hutch had gone all out in purchasing a top of the line model. They could really have some fun with this whole home movie trip.
Commercial pornos were nice, but to actually be able to watch himself screwing Hutch right through the bed...
Yeah, that wouldn’t be
Starsky peeked out into the living
room, but Hutch was still bent over the VCR, muttering to himself. He didn’t
look like he wanted to be interrupted.
Having nothing else to do, Starsky
adjusted the camcorder half an inch to the right. He wondered what they’d
do first. Blowjobs were always fun, but having the camcorder on hand made him
want to try something more inventive.
He took another look, absently
fondling himself through his jeans. Hutch was now surrounded by colored wires,
Starsky decided to get undressed. As he unbuckled his belt, the dark lens of the camcorder caught his eye. He paused, staring back at it. “I wonder which is my
Quickly shucking his clothes
off, he tried a few poses in front of the long mirror behind the bedroom door. He
sucked in his stomach and thrust out his chest, and decided his left side was his best. He flexed his biceps, and told himself
he was in pretty good shape for a forty three year old guy. Even the scars weren’t
so bad, now that they had faded to silver gray. They gave him an air of distinction.
And there was his cock, standing
stiffly to attention. Starsky glanced down and grinned as a new idea occurred
to him. Grabbing the camcorder, Starsky sat down on the bed. He stuck the camcorder between his legs, leaning over to make sure his cock was in focus.
“It’s the Mr. Happy
show!” said Starsky in his best announcer’s voice. “Hello,
Mr. Happy, are you happy today?”
Sliding his forefinger and thumb
up his shaft, he gently squeezed the very tip of his penis, folding it into a crease that – with a lot of imagination
– resembled a mouth. “Well,” he squeaked, making Mr. Happy’s
mouth move. “I’d be a lot happier if I had my extra special bestest
friend with me.”
“Starsky, what the hell
are you doing?” shouted Hutch from the living room.
“I’m playing with
myself!” Starsky called back. He waited a moment to see if Hutch would
Starsky stretched the crease
on the head of his penis a little. Now it looked sad. “Poor Mr. Happy is turning into Mr. Lonely. He’ll
just have to make his own fun.” He hummed a few bars of ‘Here We
Go Around the Mulberry Bush’ and bobbed his penis from side to side as if it was dancing a little jig. Then in an especially jolly voice, he said, “Guess what, kids, it’s Storytime!”
If Hutch would rather mess around
with a VCR than properly entertain him, then Starsky could damn well make up his own fun.
After all, he’d been best friends with Mr. Happy for many more years than he’d been best friends with Hutch.
Starsky grabbed a Kleenex from
the box beside the bed and folded it over the head of his penis, tying the ends back.
In a thickly accented voice, he said, “Hey, kids, I am Al Sheik-sky, sexy desert prince! My story today is one of intrigue and danger.”
The sound of a throat clearing
interrupted his narration. Starsky looked up to see Hutch standing in the doorway
with his arms crossed.
“And that!” said
Starsky, still in character, “is my harem. Everyone say hi to the harem!”
perverted children’s programming?”
Starsky chuckled as he pulled
off Al Sheik-sky’s turban and crumpled it into a ball. “Are you here
to molest me, Mr. Hutchinson?”
Hutch picked up the camcorder
and put it back on the dresser. “I’m having second thoughts about
the legality of it all.” He sounded so serious, for a moment Starsky almost
believed him. But then Hutch said, “Because, you perverted delinquent,
I don’t believe you’re old enough to consent.”
“You need to get those
clothes off,” said Starsky, his mouth already watering at the thought of a naked Hutch.
He glanced at the camcorder. “You should sit on that corner of the
bed, kind of angled toward the middle. I want to get both of us into the shot.”
“Forget it,” said
Hutch. “I’m running the show tonight.”
“Huh?” Starsky tore his eyes away from the camcorder to stare at Hutch.
“Sit.” Hutch pointed at the bed.
Starsky sat. He’s going to tie me to the bed, he thought. And I’ve got it coming because I did it to him first.
That was another important thing
to remember about Hutch. He might talk like a bleeding heart liberal, but he
was big into the whole ‘eye for an eye’ concept.
Still fully clothed, Hutch walked
to the end of the bed and looked down at Starsky, silently.
Starsky waited for him to speak. Hutch had his poker face on and it was making Starsky increasingly nervous. Tiring of craning his neck to look up, Starsky let his gaze travel down the length of Hutch’s lean
body. Never a bad sight, and today Hutch was definitely packing. Starsky grinned at the bulge in Hutch’s pants.
Hutch still didn’t speak.
“Uh, Hutch?” asked
Starsky, finally. “What’s up?”
Now Hutch reached into his back
pocket. He pulled out his handcuffs and dangled them in front of Starsky’s
“Oh, no, no!” said
Starsky, horrified. “You can’t cuff me!”
Hutch swung the cuffs up and
caught them in one hand. “I won’t,” he said. “Not without your permission. But just think about it. You’ll have to be very careful not to pull, no matter what I do, or you’ll
just hurt your wrists.”
“No matter what you do?” Starsky blinked. “What are going
“That’s for me to
know, and for you to find out.” Hutch threaded his fingers through the
Starsky shivered, suddenly cold. He’d been tied up and cuffed several times before in his life, and it had never
been a good experience.
I don’t want this, thought Starsky. I don’t get off on bondage games. They’re too dangerous.
Starsky opened his mouth to say
And what came out instead was,
“Really?” asked Hutch. “I can cuff you to the bed?”
No, thought Starsky. “Yes,” said his traitorous mouth. His cock stiffened, sending a pulse of pleasure right up through his chest. Dangerous.
Hutch gave him a delighted smile. Pushing him back down on the bed, he kissed Starsky, his lips claiming him with authority.
Starsky felt the last of his
objections crumble as Hutch’s weight settled on top of him. Sure, he thought, tie me up.
It only meant that Hutch would have to do all the work for a change.
“Move up,” murmured
Hutch into his ear.
Starsky shivered and pushed against
the end of the bed, trying to slide up toward the headboard. He felt the head
of his cock bump up against Hutch’s belly, and he groaned at the sensation.
Hutch lifted himself up onto
his arms, moving with Starsky. He was hard, too, his cock nudging into Starsky’s
belly. This shouldn’t take long,
thought Starsky. Hutch would cuff him, he’d shoot his wad, and then he’d
uncuff him. And then they could move on to making some real movies, preferably
ones in which Starsky took Hutch up the ass.
When Starsky’s head hit
the pillows he stopped and wrapped his legs around Hutch, pushing up against him. They’d
done this, too, before. Just moved together, grinding to completion. He pushed his cock into the crease between Hutch’s leg and groin, sliding on sweat-slickened skin.
Hutch grabbed his wrist and a
sudden metallic snick brought Starsky out of his erotic haze. He arched his back,
trying to look at his wrist.
Hutch grabbed his shoulder. “Roll over!”
Starsky was too surprised by
his commanding tone to resist. He landed awkwardly on his belly, his cock crushed
beneath his stomach. “Oh, God!”
Hutch straddled him, and pulled
Starsky’s other arm up over his head. In a second, Starsky was lying on
his face with both his arms over his head, cuffed to the headboard. Hutch’s
weight pressed his cock into the sheets in a shockingly pleasant way.
“I don’t know about
this,” said Starsky, nervously. “What if you lose the key?” Little sparks of pleasure were shooting along his nervous system, even as he clung
to the last shreds of rationality.
Hutch’s lips tickled the
back of Starsky’s neck, a series of feather light touches. “Don’t
you have the key?”
He was joking. He had to be joking. “C’mon Hutch, just tell me
you’ve got the key!” Starsky bucked and felt the cuffs dig into his
Teeth nibbled precisely at the
top of his spine, working down his back, and making him squirm. “Maybe
I’ve lost it.”
Hutch swapped teeth for tongue
and traced a cool path down to the small of his back, the heat of his breath making Starsky shiver. Starsky felt each touch as if it was directly connected to his cock.
He squirmed helplessly, and tried to lift himself up onto his knees. Hutch
was almost at the cleft of his ass, and he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Pah,” said Hutch,
“What, what?” demanded
“Got your hair on my tongue,”
said Hutch, fastidiously. “I think you’re shedding.”
“Not from my back!” Starsky was proud of the fact that despite a reasonably thick pelt elsewhere, he did
not have a hairy back.
“You’ve got a nice
little patch, right here,” said Hutch. His fingers stroked the small of
Starsky’s back, each light touch making him shiver.
“Oh geez!” Starsky began to hump the bed, grinding himself into the sheets.
It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. “Just get me off, Hutch. Please? I love this whole bondage thing,
Starsky felt him move away and
a moment later he heard the drawer open. Twisting around to look, he saw Hutch
pull out the jar of lube. “Yeah, that’ll do it!” Starsky pulled his knees up under himself once more, lifting himself off the bed.
Normally, when things were moving
slower than Starsky thought they should, he would use his hands and his mouth on Hutch.
It didn’t take much to turn Hutch into a malleable pile of mush.
This time, however, he couldn’t
do anything to Hutch, except talk to him. “Get those pants off, and take
me up the ass, you sexy beast!”
Hutch gave him an annoyed look. “You’re crude.”
“Aw, c’mon Hutch! You know you want to.” Starsky
could hardly feel his wrists anymore. His cock was running the show. “Just look at that hard-on you got for me. You know
all you want to do is stick that big old dick in there and start hammering me right through the mattress and into the floor.” He wiggled his ass encouragingly and sniggered.
He sounded exactly like an actor in a real porno. Probably looked like
one, too, with the camcorder focused on his ass.
“Oh, big boy,” said
Starsky, dramatically. “Take me, take me now. Impale me on your man meat!” Yeah, he thought, that
should make for some good film.
Hutch’s face turned several
different shades of red.
Thrilled by the reaction he was
getting, Starsky tried to remember other lines from the movies he’d seen. “Stick
it to me, baby. Give me your, er... seven and a quarter inch python of love! Give, umph, mmm –.” Starsky
suddenly found his mouth full of Hutch’s sock.
“That’s nine inches,”
said Hutch, scowling. He pulled off his sweatshirt.
Starsky pushed the sock out with
his tongue. It didn’t taste half as bad as it should have. “Are you sure about that? Because –.”
Hutch jammed the sock back in
place and, to his horror, Starsky realized he was serious about gagging him. Before
he could spit the sock out again, Hutch seized his chin, holding it firmly in his hand.
Reaching for his sweatshirt, he wrapped it around Starsky’s face and tied the arms behind his head. Starsky fought furiously, rubbing his cheeks against the sheets.
When he couldn’t loosen the gag, he kicked sideways at Hutch.
He made contact with Hutch’s
hip and heard a satisfying grunt. Hutch grabbed his ankle in a firm grip and
Starsky found himself immobilized.
“Mmmph!” said Starsky,
angrily. Okay, maybe he’d run off at the mouth a bit, but gagging him was
going too far.
Hutch yanked, and Starsky fell
down onto his chest. Pulling his belt out of his pants, Hutch tightened it around
Starsky’s left ankle. “I know exactly how long I am,” he said,
as he tied the other end of the belt to the bottom left leg of the bed. “And
you’ll be getting all nine inches up your ass...”
Starsky groaned, caught between
arousal and fury.
“...when I am good and
ready,” finished Hutch. He leaned over and fixed the gag, positioning it
well below Starsky’s nose, which he then kissed affectionately. Standing
up, he slid his pants down over his hips and stepped out, leaving them on the floor.
Tied at an angle across his bed,
utterly immobilized and unable to say a word, Starsky thought that Hutch might actually be right about the nine inches. Certainly his cock did look bigger than he’d ever seen it look before. It was red and flush, and there was a tiny drop of liquid right at the tip.
Starsky grumbled, wordlessly.
With Hutch’s sock in his mouth and his shirt wrapped around his chin, all he could smell, all he could taste was Hutch. His cock was throbbing and his balls felt like they were twisting into knots.
me. You got your way. You showed
me who’s boss. Now please, just get me off!
But Hutch was unbuttoning his
shirt in a leisurely manner, pausing every now and then to rub his own chest. He
seemed completely unaware of Starsky’s desperate gaze. When his shirt was
completely undone, Hutch licked his fingertips and then touched his chest again, tracing circles around his hardening nipples.
Starsky forgot his anger, mesmerized
by the sight of Hutch worked his way down his own body. He didn’t think
he’d ever seen Hutch look so breathtakingly gorgeous in his life. He was
toned and sleek, and even the flecks of gray twisted in among the blond only served to refine his beauty.
Finally, the last sock came off,
and Hutch looked right at him, the corners of his eyes creased with amusement. “Okay,
I – ,” he started to say.
The phone rang.
Starsky howled incoherently through
his gag. Don’t answer it, don’t
answer it, don’t –!
“Damn,” said Hutch,
snatching up the phone beside the bed. “Yes?”
Starsky waited, feeling terror
crawl along his nerves. Please don’t
let it be work. Please, please don’t let it be work.
“No, there’s no Alphonse
here!” snapped Hutch. “You’ve got the wrong number!” He slammed the phone down.
Now, thought Starsky. Now,
now. Oh God, now! He felt the
bed bounce as Hutch climbed onto it. The hands that touched his hips were shaking
and Hutch’s breathing was ragged.
Starsky bent his free leg up,
trying to make access easier. He heard Hutch open the jar of Vaseline and then
cold fingers dipped in between his ass cheeks.
That’s more like it, thought Starsky. He rotated his hips as
much as his limited range of movement would allow, grinding himself back onto Hutch’s hand. He felt fingers brush lightly over his prostate, and sparks went off in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting everything go as the electric sensations pulsed through his entire body. He was so close.
The blunt head of Hutch’s
cock pushed at his anus, and Starsky pushed back, wanting more, needing more. His
arms ached, and still it wasn’t enough. He felt the fullness and the burn,
and something more as well. He whined, deep in his throat.
Then Hutch slid in all the way,
and his hips began to move against Starsky’s. With each push, Starsky’s
cock was ground down into the bed. His head buzzed and his body hummed tight
with tension, and he felt himself teetering on the very edge.
He moaned helplessly through
his gag, desperately wanting to ask Hutch to touch him. Just one touch would
be enough to bring him off. But Hutch’s hands seemed to be glued to his
Then suddenly Hutch made a sharp
deep noise and pushed hard against Starsky’s ass, his fingers tightening painfully.
One spasmodic jerk of his body, and that was it. Hutch had come and Starsky
was stuck lying on the erection to end all erections. He buried his face in the
He felt Hutch slide out, and
a large warm hand caressed his back. Starsky refused to look up. He’d always thought blue balls were a myth, but now he knew they were real. And they were killing him.
“I love you,” said
No you don’t, thought Starsky, resentfully. If you loved me, you’d have jerked me off by now.
Hutch’s hand slid down
his leg, brushing over the back of his knee. The light touch made Starsky twitch,
shivers running up to his groin. He groaned.
said Hutch and there was a tone of wonder in his voice. He unbuckled the belt,
freeing Starsky’s leg. Then he undid the cuff on his right wrist. “Turn over.”
Starsky flopped over onto his
back, his arms outstretched. For just the briefest of moments the thought crossed
his mind that he could jump Hutch’s bones and take control back. But he
was distracted by urgent messages from his crotch, and by the time he’d figured out what he wanted to do, Hutch had
cuffed him back up to the head of the bed. Starsky stretched up and wrapped his
hands around the post, taking some of the pressure off his abused wrists.
“What do you want me to
do now?” asked Hutch, his hand on Starsky’s stomach.
Starsky looked first down at
his cock, which jutted angrily up toward his chin, and then he looked as significantly as he could up at Hutch. Please. Please, please do something about this.
Hutch patted him. “Don’t move, okay?” he said. “I really
don’t want to have to explain to everyone tomorrow why your wrists are all chewed up.”
Too late, thought Starsky, now aware of a stinging burn centered around his wrists. And anyway, whose fault is it?
Hutch crawled over him and positioned
himself between Starsky’s legs. His head lowered, and Starsky felt the
first light touch of Hutch’s tongue, circling his nipples. “Sometimes
I think I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” said Hutch, his words sending vibrations through Starsky’s skin.
Starsky arched his back, trying
to bring his cock closer to Hutch’s face but succeeding only in bumping it into his stomach. Bastard, he thought. Goddamn, stinking bastard. Wait until I get
him tied to my bed again. We’ll show him who’s the luckiest guy in
Hutch lifted his head and grimaced. “Hair,” he said, pulling a curling dark chest hair out of his mouth. Then he was down again, and this time his tongue dipped into Starsky’s belly
button, rimming it around and around.
Starsky twisted helplessly, gripping
Hutch’s body with his knees, his heels digging into the sheets. He could
feel sweat running down the back of his thighs.
Hutch sat up again and pulled
another couple of hairs out of his mouth. “God damn, Starsky. Have you ever considered shaving?”
Starsky shook his head frantically.
Hutch smiled. “I’ve made you wait long enough, haven’t I?”
“Okay.” Hutch placed a hand on each of Starsky’s knees and spread them apart.
Starsky pushed his hips up as Hutch bent down over his crotch.
Waves of pleasure chased each
other up the length of Starsky’s body as Hutch’s lips closed over the sensitive head of his cock. He shouted incoherently through his gag as Hutch wrapped his hand around his shaft.
Then Hutch squeezed and Starsky
saw black dots in front of his eyes. He arched his back. Hutch’s mouth
was a soothing balm and an excruciating fire all at the same time.
Hutch pulled him in deeper, his
tongue pressing Starsky’s cock against the roof of his mouth. Starsky moved
with him, gripping the head of the bed with both hands and pulling himself up. Hutch
began to stroke his shaft, tightening his grip as he moved his hand down toward Starsky’s groin.
Starsky jolted in his grip, feeling
his balls contract more with each stroke. One more thrust up off the bed, and
he was falling over, convulsing helplessly as he came into Hutch’s mouth.
For a moment he couldn’t
see anything at all, then the darkness retreated and he was desperately fighting to pull in enough air through his nose.
Hutch quickly crawled up his
body and loosened the gag, pulling it off and throwing it on the floor.
Starsky gasped, his chest heaving.
“Are you okay?” asked
“Oh, man.” Starsky’s head was spinning and he couldn’t feel his arms.
“I got you,” said
Through watering eyes, Starsky
saw Hutch lean over him, reaching for the head of the bed. A metallic click,
and a second later Starsky’s hands were free.
As Hutch rolled off to lie beside
him, Starsky slowly lowered brought his hands down to rest on his stomach. He
was sweating all over, the hair on his arms plastered to the gleaming wet skin beneath.
His wrists weren’t as badly abraded as he’d imagined. Just
a little red. He was definitely sore, though.
Every muscle felt as if it had been stretched to the limit.
“Well,” said Hutch,
after a moment. There was both bravado and nervousness in his voice. “How was it for you?”
Starsky looked at the camcorder
still humming across the room. “First I want to see the tape.”
“And then?” asked
Hutch, sounding worried.
“And then I want to think
about my revenge.”