The Picnic Table
by Scrap


I wake slowly, crawling toward consciousness like a dying man toward an oasis in the desert. At least I think I was waking. I canít see. I try to rub my eyes and find that I canít move my arms. Something is holding them down. Feeling and awareness spread throughout my body. I am bent over, laying chest down on something hard, flat, and rough. My legs and arms are spread out and down from my body, held there by something around my wrists and ankles. I feel something around my head covering my eyes, and something else around my head holding something in my mouth. A collar of some kind tugs when I tried to stand. A breeze across my skin also tells me I am naked.

I canít remember how I got here. Vaguely, I remember being at a bar with some friends. I was supposed to be driving everyone home, so I was drinking soda. I donít remember leaving. Hell, last thing I remember was the waitress bringing me another soda, saying that a pretty redhead at the bar bought it for me.

Well, no sense worrying about what I canít change. Time to figure out what I can about my situation. I wiggle my body a little, trying to get an idea of what Iím laying on. The texture hints at wood, like an old picnic table. The ground under my feet feels soft and cool. Grass. I listen and hear the breeze playing through some trees. I hear cars moving, but they seem far off, muffled. I hear crickets, and maybe some bugs flying around. The blindfold (I connect a name to the Ďsomethingí over my eyes) works well. I cannot see any hint of light. The lack of warmth on my back suggests that it is not daytime, though.

Ok. So I seem to be in a park. Great. Tied down to a picnic table, naked, blindfolded and gagged, in a public fucking park.

I start to focus on my restraints. Chains are holding leather cuffs out to some place beyond my reach. Padlocks keep me from removing either the chains or cuffs. The locks are ribbed, probably a Master brand or a knock-off. Key lock, not a combination. The collar and ankle cuffs feel like leather, too. A chain clinks when I try to raise my head or try to move my feet. All the chains have me drawn out enough so that I really donít have much room to move, and I donít feel any give when I try to pull on them.

Nothing to do now but wait, I guess. Hope and fear fight for top billing at the thought of someone finding me. I dose off with the debate still raging in the back of my mind.


I wake with a start.

What woke me? I focus on what my senses can tell me.

The breeze is warm, but itís summer, so no help there. Still no sun on my back, so itís either night or cloudy. I donít hear as many cars moving, so itís probably early morning.

Sound. Thatís what woke me. Footsteps coming closer. On gravel.

"Well, what do we have here?" Itís a male voice. The voice is smooth, but deep. Not a teenager, but not old either. No inner city slur either. Mixed blessing, I guess. "Looks like youíre in something of a pickle, there." I up my estimate of the age. "I donít see your clothes or any bags here, so it doesnít look like you did this yourself, but I donít see any bruises on you, either. Willing?"

He pauses, and I shake my head as best I can.

"Not here willingly. That would mean unconscious or drugged." I nod.

"Too bad for you, then."

I lay there in confusion for a moment. Until I hear a zipper. Oh shit. I try to struggle free, but the chains hold me firmly in position. I feel him move closer, place on hand on my lower back. His hand feels huge, smooth, not very calloused. I feel his pants against my ass and thighs. Heís wearing denim, I think. His other hand is guiding what I assume is his dick to my exposed asshole.

"Looks like someone cared enough to get you ready for this. Youíre already oiled. And it looks like youíve been loosened up some."

He demonstrates by placing the head of his prick on my asshole and pushing slightly. It starts to slide in with only a little effort, or pain. As he pushes more of his penis into my ass, a muffled moan escapes my throat. Why is this happening to me? And why am I getting a hard-on? Iím being raped and getting excited about it.

After he has buried the full length of his dick into me, he starts to slowly work me. In and out, picking up speed, pumping harder with each thrust. With each stroke, my own dick gets harder, and I moan louder and louder into the gag, building to a scream.

With a final hard thrust, he shudders and I feel him shoot his cum deep in my bowels. I canít stop my body from shaking, and I realize the blindfold is wet.

The man pulls out with a sucking pop and thanks me as I hear him zip up his pants. "Hope someone lets you out soon. If I think about it, Iíll stop by this afternoon to see if youíre loose yet, and call the police if youíre still here."

With that, he walks off down the path and out of my hearing, leaving me alone, dripping, and bound.


I hear steps coming down the path again. How long has it been? Still no warmth on my back, but I hear more cars and fewer insects. It must be closer to daybreak, now. And it sounds like more than one person coming.

I hear a couple of womenís voices in conversation getting closer. They sound like a couple of housewives or young professionals. Neither bodes well for me. The voices stop suddenly, as do the footsteps.

"What the fuck?" one whispers.

Slowly they approach, discussing in hushed tones what they see. The circle the table, taking in my situation.

"Um, hello," the other one says hesitantly. I turn my face to the voice. "Um. Did you do this yourself?" I shake my head, no. "Can you get yourself out of that?" Itís hard to be sarcastic with only a head motion, but I try. No.

Silence. Then giggles as the move closer. I feel a hand on my left butt cheek. It slides down my thigh slowly. Her hand is smooth, with a hint of nails. I shiver as the goose bumps start, and the hand snatches away. Then the hand returns, moving to the inside of my thigh, to my exposed balls and dick.

"Steve always wants me to suck him off, but Iíve never done it before," the first woman whispers to her friend.

"Looks like youíve got a chance to practice here," her friend says. "I can give you some pointers, and I donít think heís going anywhere for a while." Both women giggle again at the joke.

At the direction of her friend, the first woman sits on the ground under my hanging and exposed member. She fondles and licks, sucks and strokes, and quickly has my prick rock hard again. With a few tips from her friend, she quickly has me shooting my load, which she greedily swallows.

"I thought you said you havenít sucked off a guy before," the friend exclaims. "You did that almost like a pro."

"This is my first time," the sucker replies. "I mean, Iíve thought about it a lot and watched pornos, but never actually done it before. Letís see you do it. Then I can compare."

"Fine. Move over."

The sucker moves over against my leg while her friend takes position below my flagging member.

"It might take a bit, since heís just blown. Iíll see if I canít get him off again," the new sucker says.

Using almost the same motions and techniques as her friend, the newcomer quickly has me ready for the second round. As she progresses to get me off the second time, the two women banter about technique and tips. It is during one of the exchanges in conversation that I start cumming. Unfortunately for both women, the newcomer is talking instead of sucking. From the gasps and sputters I hear, she is pumping my load all over the both of them.

"You did that on purpose, didnít you, you little bitch?" the first woman accuses playfully.

"Of course not," the second retorts, trying to hide her snickers and failing. "Well, okay, maybe I did. But you loved it and you know it, you little slut."

"Thatís entirely beside the point," the first giggles. "Now I have to try and explain to Steve why Iím covered in cum that isnít his." I feel some movement, and then hear a slap. "Why did you do that? I was trying to wipe some of this off my face."

"Leave it," the second woman says, moving to stand. "Letís stay like this for the rest of the way to your house. Then we can tell Steve what we did. We can call David over, too, and we can take turns practicing on the hubbies. Theyíll love it."

"Youíre probably right," the first giggles again as she crawls out from under me and stands. "Letís do it."

As they walk off chatting about their plans for their respective husbands, I begin to wonder if I am ever going to get out of this.


As the morning goes on, I hear more people walking past on the path. Reactions vary from seeming to ignore my entirely, to comments about my daring or obscenity, to a few playful slaps on my ass or caresses of my privates. I can feel the sun on my back, now. The insects are quiet, and the sounds of car traffic seem to indicate itís rather heavy.

Sometime later, I hear someone walk up to my table.

"You look comfortable," a womanís voice says. "You also look like you might be thirsty."

Now that she mentions it, I am starting to get thirsty. I hear a jingling and feel some tugging at the back of my neck. Then I hear a Ďclickí and the tension around my jaw slackens as she takes off the gag. She lifts my head as far as she can, using my hair for leverage. She slides herself down so that my face is between her legs.

"This is the only drink youíre getting for a while, so enjoy it while you can." That said, she pushes me into her crotch. My mouth contacts skin and hair. She is either bare from the waist down or is wearing a skirt and has it pulled up. Either way, I drink from her wet pussy, licking up moisture like a cat drinking milk. I start to feel liquid dripping down my chin. Not knowing when Iím going to get something else to drink, and not wanting to waste what I can get, I lock my mouth against her and start to suck and swallow as fast as I can.

After a couple of swallows, the taste of what Iím drinking registers. She is peeing in my mouth and I am drinking it. I stop with half a mouth full, and then start swallowing again. Too late for me to do anything about it now, and it is slacking my thirst. Desperate times and measures.

The flow of her piss stops, and as I suck what moisture from her that I can, she pulls my head back away from her.

"None of that, now. Maybe later Iíll let you please me. For now, you should be alright." She puts the gag back in my mouth and tightens it around my head. I hear a jingle again, and then feel her move off the table, and hear her walk down the path.

As she walks away I realize something significant I had missed while quenching my thirst. She unlocked my gag. She had more keys. Sheís probably the one that put me here to begin with.

Damn it.