Here's a story from my old Geocities website (remember Geocities?) that hadn't made it to this blog yet. It's definitely a fantasy. I was going to edit it but I will post it as-is, and maybe readers can tell me if it needs anything.
by hangdogMI ... originally posted august 12, 2003
Long fuckin' day at work. Long fuckin' WEEK. I threw my stuff on the table and headed for the bedroom, stripping off my office clothes as I went. Reaching the bedroom, I threw the shirt and slacks on the bed, pulled off the underwear and socks, and stood in front of the mirror, examining my naked, hairy body. I weighed my options for the weekend, pulling on my cock and balls gently, almost absent-mindedly. There was only one thought in my head, really. "Fuck it, let's go," I said in a low almost growly voice. I headed off buck-naked to the basement, leaving the door open at the top of the steps but leaving the lights off.
At the far corner of the basement was a door to a little room, about 6 feet by 8 feet. Greg, my roommate who was out of town for the weekend, called it my "secret room." I unlocked the door and went in, closing and locking the door behind me. Behind the locked door the room felt very quiet. It was probably the most well-insulated room in the house, with no windows and no sound penetrating from the outside. I turned on the one light, its 15 watts dimly illuminating the dark brown wood walls.
A small stool sat in the corner underneath a coiled-up rope. I took the stool and set it in the center of the room. Then I took the rope off its hook on the wall. Taking a deep breath, I stepped up onto the stool. The half-inch thick rope uncoiled. One end had a brass ring only slightly bigger than the diameter of the rope, and the rope itself ran through it, making a noose. I took that end and pulled it over my head, snugging it around my neck. After that, I reached up to the ceiling with the free end and tied it to a hook that had been set into the ceiling joist there, being sure to take up the slack. We were fortunate to find this house with high ceilings in the basement, but I didn't want to end up with my feet on the floor either.
When I finished the knot. I just stood there on the stool in the dimly lit room. Shaking. Knowing I had the whole weekend before anyone was going to come looking for me. Knowing that what I was about to do was beyond dangerous. Knowing that my prick was bigger, harder, and purpler than anything else could make it.
"Here goes nothing," I said. I pushed gently with my toes. The stool fell over and rolled to the back corner of the room.
The rope caught me - actually it had been taut enough that I hardly dropped at all. It tightened hard and cut into my neck muscles. I gagged once or twice, and then the rope dug in enough so that I couldn't make any sound at all. The pain made me twist myself in a vain effort to try to shift the rope higher on my neck.
I fought hard to stay calm, wanting to savor every moment of strangling at the end of this rope. I felt like I was floating. I could see I was spinning a little as the room revolved around me. I stretched my toes out and felt nothing. I looked down and saw my huge cockhead bobbing between my legs, dripping pre-cum. The incongruous thought came through my head, "I wonder if I'm gonna shoot...." Then I realized that I was beginning to lose consciousness - the room was getting darker, the buzzing in my head was getting louder, and my head felt like it was swimming. I could hardly feel my body but I knew it was struggling, jerking, twitching. But it wouldn't do any good. I could feel myself giving into the rope, sagging as I blacked out completely. I felt like I was fading into a big blanket of nothingness....
About 10 minutes later, the 15-watt bulb, which was on a timer, went out. I dangled from the noose in utter darkness, utter silence, alone, with no hope of being rescued until Greg returned Sunday night. My body got chilly, my limbs hung limp. My head drooped forward slackjawed, open eyes staring unblinking at the floor that remained about a foot from my outstretched toes. My cock had softened a little but still hung from my pubic fur, fat and purple.
Time passed. The phone rang occasionally, though no one heard.
Around 4:30 on Sunday, Greg slid his keys in the lock and came in. He slung his daypack next to where I'd dumped all my work stuff, and noticed the basement door was open. He carefully locked the front door and then went down to the basement. In the darkness he stood looking at the door to the little room, scared of what he might find in there.
He walked over to the door, tried the knob. Locked. He felt for the key on a shelf next to the door, then slowly inserted it and turned the knob. What he saw made him gasp.
Greg stood there for a moment, a little stunned. Then he entered the room, and closed the door behind him. He fumbled for the light, and when it went on he got a good look at me hanging very still from the hook in the middle of the ceiling.
It was a crowded room with both of us in there. Greg got the stool and sat it upright in the corner, kind of facing me, and sat down. "You fuckin' son of a bitch," he said. Then he sat thinking for a while. I just hung there, not getting any fresher.
"So did you mean to snuff it this time, or what," Greg said quietly. He reached out and stroked my calf from where he sat, feeling the muscle underneath my cold skin, making me move a little bit. He stood up, and used both hands to stroke my thighs. "I remember the first time... not quite so freaked about it this time as I was then, boy." His hands roamed up my hairy belly, as far as a nipple which he tweaked. "'Course, you'd only been hanging for a few minutes then. Not like, what, two days this time?" He reached up and held my face like he was trying to get my attention, just looked at me for a moment. Then he let go and ran his hand down my chest, down my stomach, down to my crotch, covering my cock and balls with his big hand, then grabbing my meat like he was going to stroke it. "Guess you must've enjoyed it, fucker." And then he was pawing at his own crotch with his other hand. "I gotta say, I like it too, dead man."
But then he stopped pawing at himself, and let go of my prick. He just stood watching, thinking again. And then he opened the door and stepped out. He wasn't gone long, and when he came back he had a hacksaw in his hand. He stood up on the stool and started sawing at the rope. He worked for about ten minutes before the rope gave way and I fell sprawling to the floor, despite his efforts to slow my fall.
"OK, there, deadfuck." He put the saw down and undid his jeans, pulling them off. "Let's see how you like this."
He laid me face-down and then got on top of me, stroking his already hard prick so it was fully ready. Then he spit in his hand for a little lube and slicked himself up with it. Positioning himself - and me too - he slid his rod into my ass, slowly and steadily, till he was completely plugged into me.
"Gotta warm you up a little," he whispered, and he started moving back and forth. He lowered his chest to my back and reached around me with both hands, hugging my lifeless body to his warm torso. His face was next to mine. His cock slid back and forth, into and almost out and then back in. His breathing came faster, more noisily. By now he was being pretty rough with me, squeezing me hard with both arms and thighs and raping my hole. Finally his groans became growls and he arched back as his first spurts shot his hot cum into my insides.
He kept fucking and shooting till he was almost giggling from the super-sensitivity of his cock. Then he eased himself down on top of me and wrapped himself around me from behind.
And that's when I started warming up, and waking up. It came real slowly. Fortunately the noose loosened up a little since I wasn't hanging from it. Greg quickly realized I was waking up and loosened it even further. My first breaths hurt something fierce. Greg just stroked my chest, trying to keep me calm. After five, ten minutes, I could think again.
"How're you feeling?"
"A little ... stiff," I said hoarsely. "Still a ... little ... cold."
"I'm doing my best." In a moment, Greg got up gently and left the little room. He came back a moment later with a blanket, and he wrapped it around both of us. We just lay there for a long time.
"You know, someday, you're gonna do this, and I'm just gonna leave you hanging, and you won't come back, you know?"
I just nodded. I figure when that day comes, I won't ever know, and that'll be OK. But at the moment I could smell him when I buried my face in his chest, and I realized that it was OK that he brought me back again.
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