We both have a bit of a thing for raingear, so I agree to wear a matte black Ellesse raincoat I have. It's warm so I decide to wear a grey athletic tshirt underneath to not sweat too much, but unfortunately I end up a little warm under the collar regardless. My hiking shorts hug my thighs and butt nicely (I went for a little of a tighter fit this time) and I whistle to myself, playing up the idea of my own obliviousness. To not mislead you into thinking my body is as athletic as all that - I'm about 30, with an unfortunate tummy I can't quite shift. I like to think of myself as reasonably good looking apart from that though, if I'm allowed say so. Brown hair, glasses... a little generic, I grant, but I like myself fine.
I feel more than hear the car quietly roll up beside me, and a polite "excuse me" gets my attention. I turn to look at the man, having not seen him before. He's good looking for his age; well-kept at least, with a typical 60-something's build. He's adorned himself in dark, shining pvc rain gear. The dwindling evening light catches off it brilliantly, and my eyes take him in over the course of several glances.
"It's you," he continues, "my victim for the evening. Get in."
I don't argue nor disabuse him of that notion. I open the door and have to scramble to catch the roll of dully shining grey duct tape and a pack of thick, heavy-duty zipties as they tumble from their perch on the edge of the passenger's seat. I pick them up off the ground and hand them to him.
"That's not your seat. Get in the back."
He doesn't raise his voice, but there's a dull rumble that implies threat. I climb into the centre of the back seat. He drives on, making a few turns before killing the engine. He gets out and follows me around. He slides into the car next to me. Only when he's in, with the doors locked do I realise he's parked the car in a blind area around the corner from the other apartments. I hadn't been paying attention and now if something bad happened, no one would see us. He lays a hand on my knee.
"You look nice. I like your raincoat." I can feel my heartbeat faster and faster in my chest, and my cock stiffen in my shorts. I see his eyes flick down.
"Looking forward to this?"
"Th....th... thank you - I a-am, y...yes." I manage to stumble out. He seems to think the stammering a little funny. He reaches his other hand into his pocket while the hand on my knee transfers to being a hand on my thigh.
"You want me to tie you up." Not a question, just a statement. "I don't like my victims making a lot of noise. Do you understand?"
"Y... yep, yes, sir." I didn't love the way he phrased it. His hand drifted higher on my leg, a couple of his fingers now playing with the edge of my shorts, delving a little bit.
"Open your mouth, stick your tongue out." He withdrew the hand from his pocket, holding a satin cloth. They looked like underwear perhaps, or small pyjama bottoms. He balled them up neatly and placed the cloth on top of my waiting tongue, pushing the lot back into my mouth. It filled me up completely, and when his fingers withdrew I made a small exploratory "-mmph" noise to see how loud I could be, if needed. He paused when I did so, a small light of warning rimming at the corners of his eyes as he regarded me.
Taking the duct tape, he pulled my hood up. He removed the hand from my thigh to tightly pull the cords of my hood, restricting my view as the hood closed up around my face. I heard the tape begin to pull, and with no time he had mouth taped. He didn't cut it straight away though. Instead, he looked into my eyes.
"Hmm." He mused for a moment. "Yes, those too."
He got a wet wipe from the back of the seat and squeezed some moisture from it. He put it over my eyes, then began to wrap the tape around them. I must have looked ridiculous like that, leaking some strange fluid and taped into anonymity. When I heard the tape rip, his hand returned to my thigh. I reached up to touch the tape which resulted in a sudden burst of pain from the top of my thigh.
"Silly boy. Your hands are not for touching. Give me them."
I raised my wrists to him. Taking one, then the other, he drew them to the head rest behind me. I felt him thread through a heavy ziptie through the metal and cloth, and then that classic, delicious sound of it clicking closed, trapping my wrists in place.
I was trapped - quiet, blind, and bound. If he left me here I'd never make it out. I felt that fear trapped in my chest start to bubble up. His hands gripped, then pulled my knees open. I could hear the squeak of his raingear as he moved to a position where he could play with me. I felt one hand unbutton my shorts, and start to slowly undo the zipper. With the other hand, he rubbed my raincoat, letting his hand play with closing around my throat and occasionally pinching my nose. With delicacy, he drew out my cock which was standing to attention.
I felt his hand grip it, and slowly start to move up and down. He had warm hands, and I soon found myself writhing against my restraints, pumping my hips against his hand. I felt myself drop, somehow, my mind occupying another space where the gag, the blindfold, the ties, they became part of me, my natural condition in the world. This is where I was supposed to be, bound in his car, being molested by this stranger. I felt myself getting close, almost there...
And he stopped. His other hand came down hard and fast, slapping my balls and delivering a whiplash of pain that caused all sentiments of finishing out the window. I breathed hard through my nose as I groaned into the satin and tape. He slapped my balls again, and I pulled hard at the zipties. They didn't give, and I could feel them cut a little into my wrists.
"That's for later. For now, you're coming back home with me."
I felt him tuck my deflated manhood away, and button up my shorts. I felt a cloth of some sort over my hands, being ziptied in place, and I think he had settled a blanket of some sort over me to keep me hidden for the short drive. Wherever we were going from here - hopefully his house - I would just have to wait to see.
(Let me know if you want another part for the evening ahead
)
to take his place but no ZipTies, I hate ZipTies. 
Though I admit, they're my favourites. 
