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Jim breaks all stereotypes in several ways. To look at on a first meeting he is not the sort one would think of as dandy or as a bondage bottom, but he is both. But as I say, he doesn't look it.

I have teased him on more than one occasion by telling him that he is living proof there must have been handsome hunks among the Neanderthals. Not that Jim looks simian in any way, but he does look, well, like a handsome caveman. He is not especially tall, perhaps five ten or eleven, but he is built on a truly massive scale and he gives the effect of being a big bear of a man. He has a great barrel of a torso surmounted with heavy shoulders. He has long arms and legs but it takes looking before you realize it, because they are so thick with fleshy muscle. His hands and feet are big and meaty.

Jim's face is oddly handsome. On his short neck is a big, round head covered with a thatch of dark hair, still very thick although shot heavily with gray at fifty-eight. His forehead does not have anything like a caveman slope, but it is low and broad. His eyes, bright brown in color, are set deep under heavily porched brows, and his eyebrows themselves are furry and prominent. His nose is short, thick, and wide, but well shaped nonetheless, as is his full-lipped mouth, buried within a dense, grizzled beard. He keeps that beard carefully barbered and it does nothing to hide how heavy and strong both his chin and his jaw are. Like I said, a handsome caveman.

You would expect such a man to work in construction and to dress like a lumberjack, but not so. Jim is a singer, and, oddly enough, a tenor, with a clear voice and talent enough to have kept him in demand for many years as a chorus member. His speaking voice is low, with a resonance from that deep chest of his that is pleasant to hear. And he dresses, weekends and weekdays alike, in preppy outfits that seem mildly incongruous with his bear man looks but which are oddly becoming nonetheless.

I met Jim in what one could only call unusual circumstances. One of my best friends lives in the same building as I do, and I was doing his taxes for him, as I always do. I'm an accountant, in an independent practice, and of course I do all my friends' taxes. I had run up to Clive's place to check some detail or other out with him, not bothering to call ahead, anxious simply to have the matter settled. I 'm surprised that Clive answered my knock, but he has a penchant for outrageous behavior, predicated on his oft repeated phrase, "what happens, happens." In any case, he did answer the door that Sunday afternoon, he did invite me in, and there, in the living room, was Jim.

I needed some document or other of Clive's, and, when he understood what I wanted, he pulled me inside his apartment with an impatient sigh.

"I think I know where that is," he said. "Let me go and see."

"Uh, yeah," I said, not paying much attention, since I was staring at Jim.

Clive looked to where I was staring and laughed.

"Oh, yeah, that's Jim, a new friend of mine. Steve, Jim; Jim, Steve." He introduced us, grinning wickedly, and then, with a wink at me, went off in search of what I had asked him for.

Neither Jim nor I offered to shake hands. Under the circumstances, it would have been foolish. Jim was sitting in a heavy wooden arm chair, to which he was bound with many lashings of tight rope, and he had a massive gag of white handkerchiefs stuffed and tied in his mouth. I stared at Jim and Jim stared back at me from above his gag, while we both listened to Clive banging around and swearing in the rear of his apartment.

I suppose I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was. I knew of course that Clive loved bondage. It is something the two of us share. Truth to tell, I'd sat myself in just that chair, bound and gagged like this Jim fellow, and I had done my share of binding and gagging Clive as well. And knowing Clive, I should not have been too put out that he would invite me in when he had a man trussed and muzzled in his living room. But I was a little put out, especially since I could not help staring at the man.

Jim is, as I have said, a big bear of a man, and the sight of him, trussed up and gagged, was arresting. Clive had bound him in his usual elaborate fashion, lashing him down to the chair from his chest to his ankles with many tight coils of white cotton clothesline, and he had gagged him with what looked to be a gag that was huge even by Clive's standards. Looking at the great wad of white handkerchiefs that stuffed the man's mouth, my jaws ached in sympathy, for I had been gagged by Clive in a similar manner many times myself.

The shock of being presented with the man in this way wore off enough for me to take in that the fellow did not wear the black leather that is Clive's passion. Instead, he was dressed in a Brooks Brothers outfit that made him look as if he were just come from church. Then Clive himself came back into the room, waving the document I had asked for in his hand. He shoved it at me, and hurried me to the door, pushing me out with a laugh, and telling me to get to work. I left a bit reluctantly, and with a last glance at the bound and gagged dandy in the chair, who gave me a last look of interest, or so I hoped.

Of course, I lost no time in finishing up Clive's taxes, since I wanted an excuse to call him as soon as I could. In fact, as he knew I would, I called Clive that evening, and after telling him I would send in his forms that Monday, I immediately asked him about Jim.

"So, who was that?"

"Who?" Clive said innocently.

"Don't give me that. You know who I mean, that guy in the chair this afternoon, Jim, wasn't that his name?"

Clive chuckled. "Got you going, did he?"

I was embarrassed, but said, "Yeah, he did, kinda."

Clive chuckled again. "He is nice, but I think he's more your type than mine. He's not into leather at all, just into being tied up and gagged." He paused, and I could hear his wicked smile as he added, "So I gave him your phone number."

"What?" I yelped.

"Oh, are you mad I did?" he said.

I sighed. "I dunno, I mean, you haven't told me anything about him, and I don't know if you even know him yourself, and here you're giving out my phone number to the guy."

Clive was enjoying himself, I knew. I could hear the suppressed laughter in his voice.

"I guess I don't know that much about him, but I'm sure it's OK."

"Where'd you meet him?"

"In chat, where else, nowadays?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said weakly. I was torn, I admit it. I was a bit upset that Clive has given out my phone number to this stranger without even asking, but I had to confess, to myself anyway, that I hoped he would use it.

"You're not really mad, are you, Steve? I mean, I guess maybe I shouldn't have, but he really is such a nice guy, and it was pretty obvious, when we were talking afterwards, that he is interested in you. And, well, he is a nice guy, but he's just not my type, really. He's too vanilla, hardly struggles, just sits there once he's tied, and he thinks leather is nice." Clive snorted. "Nice, for goshsakes."

I chuckled. "How could he?" Clive knew that I felt just about the same way, when it came right down to it.

Clive snorted again. "But, you're not really mad?"

I considered trying to make him feel bad, just for the sake of the lesson, but I didn't really want to.

"Nah, it's all right. I guess. But don't do it again, OK?"

"OK."

We talked about other things then, and after half and hour of our usual gossip and discussion, we hung up.

And immediately the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi, hello," said a voice I doesn't recognize. Then the caller asked, "Please, is this … Steve?"

"Yeah."

"Um, you don't know me, I mean, well, we've met, sort of … but not in the usual way. My name's Jim." The caller paused.

I swallowed. "Yeah, I think I know who you are, Jim. We met this afternoon at my friend, Clive's, place."

"Yeah, that's right." He gave a nervous chuckle. "I was the guy in the chair." He paused, and then said, "Sorry I didn't stand up and say something, but I was tied up, and gagged, at the time."

"Yeah," I said, a bit shyly, but chuckling myself, "I kinda noticed."

I heard him take a deep breath. "Now I don't know what to say. I mean, I asked your friend for your phone number, and I made myself call, but, I don't know what to say."

I was suddenly silent myself. I could here him breathing, and some other sounds I couldn't immediately identify were in the background. After a half a minute, I said, "You still there?"

"Yes." It came out as sort of a croak.

"Look, Jim, I, uh, well, I think Clive and you may have discussed this a bit?"

He took another deep breath. I wondered if it was the first since the last one I'd heard him take.

"Uh, yeah, we did, a bit."

"What did he say?"

"Well, he said, um, let's see, that you were his friend, and a nice guy, and that you, uh, liked ropes and stuff, and that leather wasn't real important to you, like it is, uh, to him."

I smiled to myself. "Well, that's right, it isn't. Not leather."

"But, uh, ropes and stuff?"

"Ropes and gags," I said, putting some emphasis on the word 'gags.'

"Oh, yeah, gags are important." He kind of stumbled a little over the word 'gags' when he said it.

"Gags are real important," I said. "It ain't bondage without a gag."

"No, it's not, not for me, either. I, uh, really like gags."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He paused. "Oh yeah, really. I really like gags, best of all, really."

"Me, too."

"Um, your friend kinda of said something like that."

Good old Clive, I thought; he would. Out loud, I said, "Well, he is right." I paused. "Clive had you pretty well gagged today. I mean, that was a pretty big wad of handkerchiefs in your mouth, it looked like."

"Um, yeah, it was, uh, pretty good. But, well, it could have been bigger, and, um, he didn't tie a handkerchief over my mouth the way I like. I mean, he just had that handkerchief tied through my teeth to, uh, keep that gag in my mouth, but I wanted one over my mouth, too."

Bigger? I thought. That's hot. Out loud, I said, "You like a handkerchief over your mouth, too, huh?"

"Um, yeah," he said, "more than one, really." He paused. "That OK with you?"

"More than OK, Jim," I said. "I'll tie a half a dozen handkerchiefs over your mouth if you like."

He took a deep breath and his voice shook a little as he said, "I would, a lot." He paused. "Uh, you busy?"

"You mean, right now?" I was surprised, but my lower regions were stirred up.

"Um, yeah." I heard him swallow. "Are you?"

"No. You want to get together?"

"Ok with you?"

"Of course. Where?"

"Well, I'm not far away. Actually, I'm down at the corner."

I couldn't help chuckling. "Are you?"

"Yeah." He sounded embarrassed.

"That's great," I said, "that means you can be here in a minute, huh?"

"Yeah."

I gave him my apartment number, and we hung up.

For a moment, I sat staring at the phone, and then I leaped up and hurried over to the window. It was dark out by then, but under the streetlamp I saw Jim's hurrying figure as he came down the block and turned into the entrance to the building below me. The buzzer sounded, and I went into the hall to buzz him in. I waited, nervous myself now, wondering what exactly would happen. After what seemed a long while but couldn't have been more than a few minutes, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall from the elevator and stopping in front of my door. The bell rang. I opened the door.

I had not gotten, of course, a completely clear picture of the man that afternoon. He had been sitting tied in a chair and he had had a huge wad of handkerchiefs stuffing his mouth, which was sexy but somewhat distorted my perceptions. So now, after inviting Jim inside and leading him into my living room, I looked at him.

Imagine the sort of man I have described, husky, handsome, butch, and hairy. Imagine him dressed in a dark, three-piece suit. A crisp white shirt. A deep maroon paisley silk necktie. Glints of gold here and there, in a tie bar, cufflinks, a watch chain stretched across his broad stomach. A large handkerchief of maroon foulard silk in his chest pocket, thrusting up and out in a very prominent and protuberant puff. In other words, imagine the tough-looking guy I have described, an intelligent looking caveman, dressed as a Sunday church-service fop. And imagine his handsome face expressing a shy uncertainty, a kind of submissive hope. If you get the picture of conflicting images that Jim presented that late afternoon, then you may understand why I responded to him so strongly and so immediately.

Jim was looking, too, of course. Since he had met me that afternoon and taken a good look then, I assumed he was not dissatisfied with what he saw. I am forty-eight myself, ten years younger than he. At six two, I am taller than he by almost half a foot, but at one ninety, he outweighs me by fifty pounds. My hair is still thick, but its light brown is almost all gray already, like my eyebrows and my thick mustache. I'm told my blue eyes, deep set and bright, are among my best features. That and my smile. I smiled at Jim now, and he dropped his eyes.

I decided to cut straight to the chase.

"So, Jim, you really like gags."

He looked up to meet my eyes and nodded.

"Really, really like gags?"

He nodded vigorously. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then said in a voice not much louder than a whisper, "The bigger the better."

I took a step or two near to him and reached to cup the side of his handsome face with my hand.

"When you're all tied up, Jim, all trussed and helpless," and as I spoke, he took in his breath in a quick little gasp and his lips parted slightly, "I'm going to hold you to that. You know that, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Good," I said. As I had been speaking, I had reached into the hip pocket of my chinos and taken out the big white handkerchief I had there. Now I reached up and thrust it between Jim's teeth.

"Oagggmmmmph." The big man half sighed, half groaned as I stuffed the soft cloth in his mouth.

I took him by one thick arm, a bit surprised at how beefy and firm it was, and led him into the dinning room. I dragged one of the heavy oak armchairs out from the table and pushed Jim into it. He filled it from side to side, and almost front to back, with the hefty, solid bulk of him.

"You just sit there, fella. Got it?"

Jim looked up at me. He nodded. "Um hmmph."

"Good man." I turned and hurried away to my bedroom. Quickly I gathered up what I needed and then went back. Jim was sitting where I had left him, square in the heavy chair, my handkerchief still in his mouth. He looked up as I came in and watched me cross the room to stand beside him. I dumped what I was carrying on the table in front of him and he looked at it. A couple of neat hanks of white cotton clothesline. A big handful of my white pocket handkerchiefs. Several large silk handkerchiefs, the sort he had in his chest pocket and that I wore in a similar fashion on dressy occasions. A big silk scarf. In other words, the means to bind and gag Jim quite thoroughly.

I set to work. Taking up one of the hanks of rope, I loosened it into the several lengths it contained. I used first one length, then another, to bind the man's hands down to the arms of the heavy chair. I coiled the rope snugly around his wrists and the chair arm, then pulled it between them, drawing the loops still more snug, and knotting the rope off securely. I used two more lengths to tie each of his elbows to the back rails of the chair, marveling to myself once more at how firm his massive arms felt. The man was big and burly and he filled the chair up, but he was not fat, just uncommonly massive.
I took up the last length of rope from the first hank, the longest of them all, and used it to lash Jim's big chest to the back of his chair. I coiled the rope around his chest and his big upper arms, pulling each loop as tight as I could before coiling the next. I was careful to lay the coils neatly, one over the other, and at the same time I was careful to make sure the wide band of stout rope lay beneath where the man's foppish puff of a chest pocket handkerchief rose up and out. I pulled the final loop as tight as I could and knotted off the rope.

Taking up the second hank of clothesline, I loosened it and then knelt in front of my big dandy of a bear. I pushed his legs apart, pressing each against the legs of the chair he sat in. I used lengths of the rope to lash each of the fellow's legs down securely. First I coiled ropes around his lower thighs and bound them to the chair's arms as tightly as I could. Again, I found myself surprised at the firm meatiness of the man's massive limbs. As I worked, I looked up into Jim's face more than once. He was watching me as I tied him up, an anxious, almost pleading look on his handsome, bearded face. The folded corner of my handkerchief just protruded from between his full lips.

After I had bound his thighs, I used more ropes to bind each of his ankles to the legs of the chair. Finally, I used one more length of rope each to lash up and down his calves with snugly laid coils, binding his legs tightly to the legs of the chair. When I stood up, I still had one more length of the rope in my hand. I went behind him and used it to lash his thick waist to the back of his chair. When I was done, the man was completely immobilized, lashed from head to toe into the heavy piece of furniture.

I stood leaning over the man from behind for a moment. He tried to twist around to see me, but he was too well lashed down into his seat to move. All he could do was twist that big, furry head of his and look at me from the corner of his bright brown eye.

"I'm going to gag you now, Jim. Gag you. You understand? 'The bigger the better,' you said, didn't you?"

He nodded. "Um hmmmph.!"

I smiled. Slowly I stood up and came around beside him. Before us, on the dining table, were spread my handkerchiefs, my silk pocket squares, my big silk scarf. I set to work preparing Jim's gag.

I took up one of my big white handkerchiefs and spread it smoothly on the table. Then I spread a second and a third and a fourth on the first. I rolled the thick, soft, multi-layered square of cloth in upon itself to form a big puffy wad, and then, with a glance at Jim, set it aside. I repeated this with four more of my big white pocket handkerchiefs, so that I had two puffy wads. I took up another white handkerchief, and I folded it on the diagonal into a thick band. I repeated that with yet another handkerchief. Finally, I took a last white handkerchief and folded it on the diagonal into a wide bandage.

Then I turned to my silk squares. I folded two, a solid maroon, and a black one pin-dotted in maroon, into wide bandages like the last white handkerchief, broad, thick swaths. Finally, I did the same thing with the silk scarf, forming a really long and wide and very thick bandage with that almost yard square of heavy silk, a paisley in black and maroon.

Once I had done all this, I proceeded to lay out the results of my labor on the dining table in front of Jim. He watched me closely as I laid first one of the big puffy wads of white handkerchiefs to his right, then one of the thick rolled white handkerchiefs beside it, then the second wad to its left, and the second thick rolled white handkerchief to its left. I laid out the wide folded white handkerchief next, and followed it with the wide folded silks, first the maroon, then the black with maroon dots. I finished up, far to the man's left, with the big scarf.

I looked down at Jim, who looked back at me for a moment and then down at the assembled makings of his gag on the table before him. I bent close to him. I clasped my hand gently on one side of his thick neck and with the other hand I drew my handkerchief from his mouth.

"'The bigger the better,' you said, Jim. Right?"

"Yes," he said, but it came out as a kind of rumbling, hoarse gasp.

I stroked the side of his face gently for a moment, and then I reached for the first of the big wads of my handkerchiefs and began to stuff it into Jim's mouth. He opened wide to take the soft ball of cloth, and I took my time thrusting it between his bearded jaws, working the spongey wad in deep.

"Mmmmmph! Gugulmmmmmph!" Jim moaned into that first wad, his eyes closed, an expression of deep longing on his handsome face.

I took up the first of the thick rolled white handkerchiefs and I tied it between the man's strong teeth. I pressed the middle far back, and then I wrapped the long ends behind his head. I forced his head forward, pressing his stout chin into his chest, and knotted off the handkerchief, pulling the knot as hard as I could.

"Mmmmmmmggummmph."

I took up the second big wad and I shoved that into Jim's mouth in front of the tight cinch of the white handkerchief, filling to overflowing the space between it and the big man's bearded lips. Jim groaned softly as I packed his mouth solidly with the wad of soft cloth. Then I took up the second thick rolled white handkerchief, and I bound it through the man's jaws as I had the first, pulling it likewise as tightly as I could.

"Mmmmmph. Hmmmmpht." Jim's mumbling moans were much muffled now, smothered in his mouth by the packed in wads of my big handkerchiefs.

I took up the wide folded white handkerchief and I tied it over Jim's mouth, fitting the wide bandage carefully between his thick nose and stout chin and sealing his mouth up with the thick band of cloth. I folded the long ends behind his head and pulled on them as hard as I could before tying them off into a hard knot.

"Mmmmm. Mmmmmmt." Jim made much muffled groans through his gag, and he opened his eyes to look up at me in a slightly dazed way. He nodded, however, and moaned again, and I knew he was thanking me, in his way, for binding up his mouth with a handkerchief tied over it, as he had told me he wanted. I patted his thickly swathed cheek and smiled down at him.

I took up first the maroon silk handkerchief and then the black with maroon pindots, and I tied them both over Jim's mouth the way I had tied the wide-folded white handkerchief. I took my time over it, enjoying the sensations of carefully fitting the thick, cool bandages of richly colored silk over the man's stuffed and bound up mouth. I fitted each silk handkerchief carefully between his nose and chin and pulled them as tight as I possibly could before knotting them securely behind his big head.

I paused for a moment, holding Jim's wide shoulders in my left arm while I slowly and gently caressed his big head with my right hand. I played with the grizzled dark hair that thatched his skull so thickly, and tickled his ears, and ran my fingers over the thick swathing of many layered handkerchiefs that bound up his stopped up mouth and distended jaws.

"Mmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmt." Jim moaned into his huge gag helplessly. I felt my sex, stiff since he had first entered my front hall and dripping with precum since I had begun to bind him, rise up and fight my shorts in response to that wonderful sound. There is no sound sexier on this earth than the helpless, muffled, gurgling moans a man who is smotheringly, cruelly, thoroughly gagged makes, and Jim was certainly gagged in that way. And, I marveled with deepening pleasure, at his own request.

I took up the big silk scarf then, and I bound it as a final seal over Jim's mouth. He sat there helpless and vulnerable, already gagged into near silence, as I finished off his gag with this last swath of muffling cloth. I pressed the wide thick middle of the folded scarf over the man's bound up mouth, fitting the silk bandage between his nose and his chin. This final binding made the swath of cloth over his mouth so thick and heavy, I had to be careful not to cover up his nostrils and hamper his breathing. Then I wrapped the long ends to the back of the man's head and twisted them around each other once, pulling them as hard as I could manage. I brought the wide wings forward around his head once more and pressed first one and then the other over his mouth, forming a final double seal of tight silk. Then, at last, I brought the ends back behind his head and pulled them, as tightly as I could, into a knot.

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