curiosity
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Mar 5, 2010
- Messages
- 65
- Location
- SW, UK
I don't condone the use of chloroform, but since this is a fantasy and access to a good-looking guy who can't resist you appears to be a favourite on here, this is my story...
The winter winds had ripped through the terrace gardens, dislodging several fence panels and damaging limbs of trees in their path. One dividing panel between my garden and that of my neighbour’s had been reduced to matchsticks and would be an unwelcome addition to my expanding to-do list. Inspecting the damage, that Sunday morning, and removing the splintered timber from the flowerbed, I happened to glance into my neighbour’s back plot. Barry was there doing his own clearing up.
Barry was a handsome, fit guy in his late 30s, 6 footer, short dark hair, narrow nose, thin lips and warm brown eyes, smoothly developed chest and arms that had seen some weights, and the cutest arse, which was on display right now as he bent down to gather blown debris from the path of his tiny garden.
My flat had the benefit of a small window, overlooking Barry’s garden. I’d spent many an hour trembling with excitement as I took shot after shot of Barry bending and stretching over some DIY task, unaware of my attention. Barry favoured nylon tracksuit bottoms and faded tees when he was getting mucky. The tees were tight across his tits and braced his biceps with their shrunken cuffs. The tracky bottoms would ride down when he crouched, so that his ass would peek out, wrapped in the second skin of his lycra boxer briefs. At night, I’d jack off to the photos, imagining him immobilized and defenceless in my place, taking my mouth, fingers and cock wherever I chose to put them in and around his perfect body.
Later that same Sunday, I happened to be chatting to his wife in the street and she told me there’d be some noise next weekend, as Barry would be redeveloping the path in the back garden. Backbreaking work, but she wouldn’t be here, she laughed – she would be taking a long weekend away, starting Friday night and returning Monday night. I hoped she didn’t noticed my reaction to a thought, a plan that suddenly appeared and began to grow in my head…
Doing research on the net, I eventually found a supplier of chloroform from inside the country. They asked no questions. For an additional fee, they had it delivered to my place by Thursday. That evening I experimented on myself, a tentative application of chloroform on a rag, holding it over my face for a quick sniff to get used to the sickly sweet aroma, a pause, this time a breath, another pause, another breath, then another, until I blacked out. I checked the time I’d been out of it. The headache passed a good while later. In bed that night, unable to sleep, I went over my plan of action.
The gardens of the terrace were small and secluded, due to the height of the fence panels and accumulation of shrubs and trees in each confined space. No-one overlooked my garden and no-one overlooked Barry’s garden except me. The fallen panel in my fence gave me ready access to Barry’s garden while he worked in it. Barry would work, out of habit, wearing the ear buds of his ipod, filling his head with loud music and providing an additional distraction from what might be happening around him. I would take him by surprise, subdue him and get him back into my flat where my imagination would run wild over his sexy, unconscious body. The entire weekend.
Around 9am, I heard the sound of scraping and clearing going on next door. Barry was out in the back garden, shoveling gravel from the old path. From my hall window I watched Barry. He’d taken his tracksuit jacket off and was bending, shoveling and pitching gravel into a wheelbarrow. Sweat made his old, green tee stick to the muscles of his back. As he swung the shovelfuls of gravel into the barrow, I could see the sweat also made the tee cling to his smooth muscled chest. His nipples jutted out through the cotton garment. I couldn’t wait much longer.
I sat on the bench in my garden, my back to the brick wall that ran just 6 feet from my house before the fallen panel that would have started the fence separating Barry’s garden from mine. I listened to the rhythmic sound of Barry’s toil – the scrape of the shovel, the hiss from the shower of gravel as it landed in the barrow - and composed myself, trying to keep down the nervous tingle in my body, the desire that made me feel weak, the breathing I had to control.
Suddenly the shoveling stopped and the squeak of the wheelbarrow told me Barry was taking his load of debris to the skip in front of his house. I listened for its return, then heard Barry scrap up bits again. I stood up and peeked around the wall.
Barry had his back to me, as he was clearing the path towards the exit of his garden and the waiting skip (sensible chap). He’d put his shovel down then and was adjusting his ipod ear buds with both hands.
I emptied a generous slug of chloroform into the pad of car polishing gauze I had in my hand and stepped over the perimeter of my garden into Barry’s. Barry was still adjusting his left ear piece when I came up fast behind him and pulled him into me with my left arm under his chest. Simultaneously, I brought the chloroform pad to his face, pressing it firmly over his mouth and nose. Barry cried out a muffled protest and inadvertently breathed back in, tasting the chloroform for the first time. He coughed and breathed some more, which hit him hard, dizzying his senses and robbing him of his balance, so that he began to tilt forward and buckle at the knees.
I struggled to keep applying the chloroform and not follow Barry as he fought to stay standing, but pitched forward. My left arm slipped to grip Barry’s waist, while I braced his shoulder with my right arm as best I could. By now, Barry was snorting hoarsely, fighting the intoxication and clawing ineffectively at my right hand. All the while I could feel him weakening. The gravity pulling him forward sent his bubble butt pressing into my groin. I could feel my hard-on growing as his weight pulled me closer to him.
The moment I realised Barry’s breathing had changed was the moment Barry’s knees finally gave way and we both fell into the wheelbarrow, me on top of my sweaty, unconscious neighbour. I lay there, for about thirty seconds, holding the pad against Barry’s face, my body in full contact with his. Barry’s ass in my groin, Barry’s back against my chest, my face in the nape of Barry’s neck, smelling the cologne he’d applied that morning before starting work on the garden. I could feel Barry’s pulse through my cheek on his neck, its beat was slow and regular – he was out of it entirely. I released the pad from Barry’s face and rolled him onto his back. He lay at the bottom of the wheelbarrow, legs hanging out limply, his head at an awkward angle, his face a picture of puzzled sleep – eyes softly closed, but his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, his thin lips gently parted.
I took hold of Barry’s right wrist with my left hand, put my right hand between his legs to grab the back of his right thigh and hauled him into a fireman’s lift. Barry’s dead weight on my shoulder was an exhilarating sensation. His warm, flaccid body swung against me as I carefully crossed the threshold back into my garden. His breathing had turned to a soft snore, as I allowed him to slip from my shoulder to a heap on the floor of the hall. I turned away from my rag doll to retrieve the chloroform and pad from the garden. Back inside I locked the front door and turned my attention to my handsome inert neighbour…
The winter winds had ripped through the terrace gardens, dislodging several fence panels and damaging limbs of trees in their path. One dividing panel between my garden and that of my neighbour’s had been reduced to matchsticks and would be an unwelcome addition to my expanding to-do list. Inspecting the damage, that Sunday morning, and removing the splintered timber from the flowerbed, I happened to glance into my neighbour’s back plot. Barry was there doing his own clearing up.
Barry was a handsome, fit guy in his late 30s, 6 footer, short dark hair, narrow nose, thin lips and warm brown eyes, smoothly developed chest and arms that had seen some weights, and the cutest arse, which was on display right now as he bent down to gather blown debris from the path of his tiny garden.
My flat had the benefit of a small window, overlooking Barry’s garden. I’d spent many an hour trembling with excitement as I took shot after shot of Barry bending and stretching over some DIY task, unaware of my attention. Barry favoured nylon tracksuit bottoms and faded tees when he was getting mucky. The tees were tight across his tits and braced his biceps with their shrunken cuffs. The tracky bottoms would ride down when he crouched, so that his ass would peek out, wrapped in the second skin of his lycra boxer briefs. At night, I’d jack off to the photos, imagining him immobilized and defenceless in my place, taking my mouth, fingers and cock wherever I chose to put them in and around his perfect body.
Later that same Sunday, I happened to be chatting to his wife in the street and she told me there’d be some noise next weekend, as Barry would be redeveloping the path in the back garden. Backbreaking work, but she wouldn’t be here, she laughed – she would be taking a long weekend away, starting Friday night and returning Monday night. I hoped she didn’t noticed my reaction to a thought, a plan that suddenly appeared and began to grow in my head…
Doing research on the net, I eventually found a supplier of chloroform from inside the country. They asked no questions. For an additional fee, they had it delivered to my place by Thursday. That evening I experimented on myself, a tentative application of chloroform on a rag, holding it over my face for a quick sniff to get used to the sickly sweet aroma, a pause, this time a breath, another pause, another breath, then another, until I blacked out. I checked the time I’d been out of it. The headache passed a good while later. In bed that night, unable to sleep, I went over my plan of action.
The gardens of the terrace were small and secluded, due to the height of the fence panels and accumulation of shrubs and trees in each confined space. No-one overlooked my garden and no-one overlooked Barry’s garden except me. The fallen panel in my fence gave me ready access to Barry’s garden while he worked in it. Barry would work, out of habit, wearing the ear buds of his ipod, filling his head with loud music and providing an additional distraction from what might be happening around him. I would take him by surprise, subdue him and get him back into my flat where my imagination would run wild over his sexy, unconscious body. The entire weekend.
Around 9am, I heard the sound of scraping and clearing going on next door. Barry was out in the back garden, shoveling gravel from the old path. From my hall window I watched Barry. He’d taken his tracksuit jacket off and was bending, shoveling and pitching gravel into a wheelbarrow. Sweat made his old, green tee stick to the muscles of his back. As he swung the shovelfuls of gravel into the barrow, I could see the sweat also made the tee cling to his smooth muscled chest. His nipples jutted out through the cotton garment. I couldn’t wait much longer.
I sat on the bench in my garden, my back to the brick wall that ran just 6 feet from my house before the fallen panel that would have started the fence separating Barry’s garden from mine. I listened to the rhythmic sound of Barry’s toil – the scrape of the shovel, the hiss from the shower of gravel as it landed in the barrow - and composed myself, trying to keep down the nervous tingle in my body, the desire that made me feel weak, the breathing I had to control.
Suddenly the shoveling stopped and the squeak of the wheelbarrow told me Barry was taking his load of debris to the skip in front of his house. I listened for its return, then heard Barry scrap up bits again. I stood up and peeked around the wall.
Barry had his back to me, as he was clearing the path towards the exit of his garden and the waiting skip (sensible chap). He’d put his shovel down then and was adjusting his ipod ear buds with both hands.
I emptied a generous slug of chloroform into the pad of car polishing gauze I had in my hand and stepped over the perimeter of my garden into Barry’s. Barry was still adjusting his left ear piece when I came up fast behind him and pulled him into me with my left arm under his chest. Simultaneously, I brought the chloroform pad to his face, pressing it firmly over his mouth and nose. Barry cried out a muffled protest and inadvertently breathed back in, tasting the chloroform for the first time. He coughed and breathed some more, which hit him hard, dizzying his senses and robbing him of his balance, so that he began to tilt forward and buckle at the knees.
I struggled to keep applying the chloroform and not follow Barry as he fought to stay standing, but pitched forward. My left arm slipped to grip Barry’s waist, while I braced his shoulder with my right arm as best I could. By now, Barry was snorting hoarsely, fighting the intoxication and clawing ineffectively at my right hand. All the while I could feel him weakening. The gravity pulling him forward sent his bubble butt pressing into my groin. I could feel my hard-on growing as his weight pulled me closer to him.
The moment I realised Barry’s breathing had changed was the moment Barry’s knees finally gave way and we both fell into the wheelbarrow, me on top of my sweaty, unconscious neighbour. I lay there, for about thirty seconds, holding the pad against Barry’s face, my body in full contact with his. Barry’s ass in my groin, Barry’s back against my chest, my face in the nape of Barry’s neck, smelling the cologne he’d applied that morning before starting work on the garden. I could feel Barry’s pulse through my cheek on his neck, its beat was slow and regular – he was out of it entirely. I released the pad from Barry’s face and rolled him onto his back. He lay at the bottom of the wheelbarrow, legs hanging out limply, his head at an awkward angle, his face a picture of puzzled sleep – eyes softly closed, but his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, his thin lips gently parted.
I took hold of Barry’s right wrist with my left hand, put my right hand between his legs to grab the back of his right thigh and hauled him into a fireman’s lift. Barry’s dead weight on my shoulder was an exhilarating sensation. His warm, flaccid body swung against me as I carefully crossed the threshold back into my garden. His breathing had turned to a soft snore, as I allowed him to slip from my shoulder to a heap on the floor of the hall. I turned away from my rag doll to retrieve the chloroform and pad from the garden. Back inside I locked the front door and turned my attention to my handsome inert neighbour…