A gay adult story: Prisoner of War by the author
aonThe last week in July was here, and it was time to go to Don’s house! Don had long since been a friend of my fathers. They’d met in Vietnam and been buddies ever since. When my dad died when I was six, Don had more then been there for me and my mom. Not in a sleazy way or anything, in fact, he really helped the two of us put our lives back together.I used to see him frequently, but ever since he had to move two hours away for his job, those visits had become far less frequent. My mom had decided that since I was 15, I could go and spend a week with him. I think she wanted to make sure I still had that male presence in my life, and get some time to herself. I’d been driving her a bit crazy all summer.
We pulled into Don’s driveway after two and a half hours on the road. His house was a small ranched tucked in between pockets of woods in rural New York. To a kid that had grown up in the city, it was already pretty awesome for me. He came out the door just as we turned the car off. He must have been waiting.
Don wasn’t one of those huge, built army guys you see in the movies. He was about 45 years old, and average build. Probably around 5’10, 175 pounds I guessed. He had short cropped dark brown hair, and a smiled that dispelled myths of the stoicism of army soldiers.
My mom stayed and talked to Don for a few minutes while I put my things in the guest bedroom. When I came downstairs, she was starting to cry. “You take care of him,” she told Don. Now the prospect of having some time to herself wasn’t looking too good I supposed. Don assured her that he would, and that I’d be fine. Finally, she gave me a hug and drove away.
“So what do you want to do sport?” Don asked me when she left. “How do you like the house?”
“It’s alright I guess, I like the yard better.”
He grinned, “Yeah, living in the city, you’re not used to all that green. What’s say we enjoy it? Paintball?”
I readily agreed. Paintball was one of my favorite sports, but living in the city, I’d never really gotten to play. I was excited to finally have a real battlefield.
“I think there’s some stuff in the guest room closet you can change into, I wasn’t much bigger than you when I was in the service,” he told me, “I’ll go get things ready.”
I wandered back into what was to be my room for the next nine days, and looked in the closet. There was a full set of camoflouge combat fatigues, and some heavy duty boots. They were a little loose on my 5’10’’, 145 pound frame, but the boots fit perfectly.
I went out to the living room and knew I was in for the fight of my life. Don was all dressed up in camouflage. In addition to that, he wore camo gloves, and had his face painted a dark green. He handed me one of two guns and we went outside.
“Why don’t you head off that way into the woods,” he pointed, “I’ll give you a bit of a head start and set in after you. I own all the land between the four roads around here, so you can’t get lost too bad. Just head in one direction to you meet a road and find your way back that way.”
I made my way quickly into the woods, trying to put as much distance in between him and me as possible. When I thought I’d gone far enough, I slowed to a stop, and holed up in a thick bush. I waited for a while, only to be met with dead silence. I thought of going on the offensive, but that was probably a bad idea. All of a sudden, I heard a twig crack to my left. My head swiveled in that direction, but I saw nothing. Dropping to my stomach, I tried to quietly and slowly crawl on my hands and knees towards the sound.
I’d only made it a few feet when one foot kicked my gun out of my hands, and the other stepped on my back, pinning me to the ground. I moved both hands around to his foot, trying to get out from under him. That’s when he slapped a pair of cuffs to my wrists and pulled me to my feet.
“What are you doing?” I asked Don.
“I’ve caught myself a nice little prisoner of war.” There was a grin in his voice. He poked me with the barrel of the gun. “March back to the house.”
We walked in silence most of the way, with him poking me in the back or ass with his gun, nudging me forwards. The longer we walked, and the more he poked me, I felt myself getting turned on. By the time the house came into view, I was sporting a nice 6’’ erection that was fairly well hidden by my fatigues.
He walked me over to a post in the center of his yard, and clipped the chain of the cuffs to something, holding me in place. “Time to execute you,” he said, grinning. He walked back about twenty feet. I winced as he took aim, and flinched as he fired. Three red spots appeared on my chest, stinging a little.
He let me go, and gave me my gun back. “Ready for another try?”
“yeah, this time things’ll go a little differently.”
“Oho, big talker,” he said. “Care to put something on that?”
I hesitated for a moment, knowing I was surely going to lose. Ah what the hell, maybe I’d get lucky.
“Sure, I get to execute you.”
“And what if I win again?” He asked.
I thought of my arousal earlier. “I’ll be your Prisoner again,” I told him. He grinned broadly at that.
“Once we shake, there’s no turning back,” he said. I nodded, not quite sure what he meant, and shook his hand.
I headed off into the woods once more, trying to find a better hiding spot. There was a fallen tree whose ‘v’ shape made an alcove to hide in. It looked like it’d be pretty hard for him to sneak in there. Once again, I sat and waited. It seemed like hours, and I thought my hiding spot had been too good, that he wasn’t going to find me.
“Drop it,” a voice said behind me. My gun fell into the brush. He picked it up and spun me around. Before I knew what was happening, he’d unzipped the one piece jumpsuit and pulled it down. It dropped to my ankles, and I stepped out of it, giving it to him, and leaving me in my boxers and paintball mask only. He snapped the cuffs on once more, and my dick stood at attention.
“Having fun there?” Don asked, noticing it. I turned red and nodded. He put the gun in my back again. “March.” I walked back towards the house. About halfway there, my cock popped out the slit in my boxers, poking into the humid july air. After a little while, he reached around. I thought he was going to fix things for me, but instead he slid it and my balls all the way out. I gasped in shock at my now exposed manhood, and the feelings I had being helpless to do anything about it. “March,” he commanded once more, and I continued towards the house.
Once we got there, he fastened me to the pole once more. He stepped back and took a look at my body before moving forward and pulling my boxers to my ankles. Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped out so he could take them. He left and went inside for a few moments, leaving me there. Even though his house was out in the boonies, I felt so exposed completely naked, bound and facing the road. I hoped no cars would come by, buy at the same time, kind of hoped some would.
He returned with the bag I’d brought my clothes in, added the ones I’d been wearing, and tied it shut. Tying a rope to the end, he grabbed them and climbed a ladder he’d set against a nearby tree. He tied the bag about twenty feet up and came down again, removing the ladder. There were no branches on the tree any lower than ten feet.