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Happy Birthday to my favourite Sir who can get as many hugs, licks, spanks, moaning boys, kisses and positive energy as he wishes. I reckoned a jockstrapped ass would be a safe choice for your bday card. =)
Take care, Sir!
x
Oh gayboykink, you make my life better. Thank you!
Aw, this is sweet. Happy Birthday youthfuldominance. Did you get birthday spankings?
“Oh hey, there you are,” I say, climbing out of the window and up to him on the roof.
“Shit,” he mutters, immediately trying to hide his cigarette.
“No no, it’s ok. You can smoke.”
“I can? You hate when I smoke.”
“Just one,” I say, settling next to him. “You’re under a lot of stress, but I don’t want you hooked again.”
He takes a long drag and exhales. “Thanks.”
I sit next to him in silence for a few minutes.
“What am I going to do?” John asks forlornly, “I am totally fucked.”
“You’re not fucked,” I assured him.
“Yes I am! I totally am, and I deserve it all. I finally, finally got the courage to admit the reason my marriage wasn’t working was because I’m gay. I found a great man, a man I could love, and I had the audacity to think I might actually be happy. I thought Sharon would be happier too, but then…” he taps the ashes off the cigarette and inhales again. “She gets pregnant. From the time I meet her to the day I marry her, she goes on and on about how she hates kids, doesn’t want kids, detests motherhood, etc, etc…and now she’s like "oh I want to keep it.”
I don’t know what to say.
“And she did this on purpose.”
“Why on earth would you say that?”
John puffs out his cheeks. “Because her brother told me she suspected I was cheating. And so when I took the trash out, I dug that nasty condom out from the bottom of the trash bag – there was a hole in it.”
“Jesus christ, John,” I gasp.
“So now! Nooow. We have to raise a kid she doesn’t want, and that kid will be raised by parents that don’t love each-other. And I’m going to lose you.” His voice cracks.
I rub his back in soothing circles. “I am not going anywhere.”
“But…but why?” he sniffles. “I’ve been a horrible person. I don’t deserve you.”
“Because I love you,” I say, kissing his temple, “And you’re going through a very hard time and you’re all alone. You need someone for support. And honestly, I think you should leave her. Poking holes in condoms is psychotic. Children are not bartering tools. Once you tell her you’re breaking up with her, she’s going to realize she’s gonna deal with that kid all by herself and she will…will…” I trail off, realizing the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
John’s voice is very small. “I can’t let her abort it.”
“Then let’s do this. Wait until it’s too far along to abort, then tell her you’re breaking up with her. She’ll have the kid, she won’t want the kid, and we’ll raise it.”
John blinks at me. “What?? Us?”
“You always wanted kids didn’t you? You love kids, you get along with my niece fantastically.” I’m pleased to see him blush a little. “We’ll give her an exit.”
“But you haven’t even known me a year yet…”
“But we have our whole lives ahead of us John,” I reply. “And hey, I sort of gave up on the idea of being a dad when I found out I was gay. This can benefit all of us, if we play the cards right.”
John just looks straight ahead, trying to keep his emotions in check. I take the cigarette out of his fingers before it burns his skin and stub it out on the roof. He sniffles. “I’ve never felt so fucked, and so lucky at the same time. Ugh, I should save that condom, for evidence.”
“eew…but you’re right,” I chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be ok.”
He leans against me and sighs. “It’s going to be alright.”
“Yes, it’s going to be alright.”
“Eli?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
I put an arm around him and snuggle him close. “I love you too.”
__________________
Text is fictional.
As he put away my coat, a bing came from the kitchen. “Ohhh the roast is ready.”
Before I could say anything my houseboy jogged back to the kitchen, his pert butt bouncing behind him. I followed him there. “Henry, what is that smell?”
“Roast chicken,” he replied, matter of factly. “I put a lot of butter on the potatoes this time cause I know you like that.” He pulled out an impressive looking dinner and set it on the stove.
“Damn, that looks amazing. But no I mean, the other smell. It smells like a candle factory exploded.”
My boy pulls off his oven mitts and blinks at me. “Ohhh that.” He moves to the cabinet and begins to make me a vodka cranberry. “It’s spices. I thought since we live in a climate where we actually get seasons now that it would be appropriate to get into the mood of things.”
“Things…?” I repeat.
“You know, fall! Autumn! Pumpkins. Pies. Cinnamon. Apples. The leaves outside are turning colors! Here’s your drink Sir.”
I accept it, and sip it. “Thank you, boy.” I enjoy watching him move about the kitchen, fussing over the chicken and setting the table. “So you lit a candle?”
“No Sir, I had to change the air filters so I rubbed a mix of cinnamon and allspice and cloves on them.”
“How did you come up with that?”
“Well they were at the grocery store, but they were expensive, so I just decided to do it myself.”
I stare at him. “Well that’s quite intelligent.”
“Is it? Thank you Sir.” Henry frumps around with making gravy. “You know, I was thinking, why don’t we have a little house warming party?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Boy, I don’t think that’s a great idea. People are avoiding me at work because I was upfront that I was gay. I just moved here, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers.”
Henry pauses and tilts his head. “Forgive me for saying this Sir, but I think having a housewarming party would be even more useful this way. Perhaps the people you work with aren’t used to ‘homosexuals’, or whatever they call us. It’s a perfect opportunity to show them that you’re a normal person, you live in a normal house, have a normal life. We don’t have a dungeon in the basement… well, yet. Plus, I’m a damn good cook.”
I smile. “That you are. You know, you might be right.”
“Ooo that means I can decorate the house. I could carve a pumpkin. Make that cinnamon apple cake I like… god I love parties.”
I set the drink down on the kitchen table and sink into a chair. “Come here for a moment, Henry.”
He sets a serving spoon down on the counter, wipes his hands on a towel, and walks over to me. “Yes sir?”
“Sit on my lap, boy.”
He lifts up the apron and straddles my thighs. I give him a kiss on the lips and squeeze his ass with my hands.
“God I love it when you’re domestic,” I admit, low and husky in his ear.
“Do you Sir?”
“I have no idea why, but it makes me want you. You just get this glow about you when you get into one of your moods…”
“Well, I am happy when serving the man I love.”
I capture his mouth with another kiss. My right hand moves forward, under his apron. I give his locked cock a proper tug, then cup his balls in his hand and massage them as I kiss him. Henry moans against me and grinds into my hand.
“You must really like buttered potatoes,” he breathes.
“Mmnn…I think I just really like autumn,” I say. “Are you prepared?”
“Yes Sir. I always lube up right before you get home, just in case you want to relieve some stress.”
“That’s a good boy,” I murmur. “Stand up a minute.”
He does so, so I can unzip my pants and extract my cock. I groan when the wet tip touches cool air. Henry takes over and strokes me with his hand, his eyes fixated on me. He’s flushed, but I can’t tell if it’s from cooking or from stimulation. When I’m breathing slow and properly stiff, Henry crawls back into my lap. He holds onto my shoulders so he can raise his ass up and position my cock in the right spot. I bite off a cry when I feel his body envelope me, a slow, tight heat around me, down to the hilt. I plunder his mouth again and push his waist downward so he’s sitting on my lap once more.
“God that’s it, Henry,” I murmur. He rides me, without even asking. I watch in fascination as his pelvis and hips roll while his shoulders stay mostly still. His eyes are glazed over now. I notice there’s a wet spot flourishing on the apron. Soon, I cannot stay still any longer and drive up into him. Henry cries out, begging me to keep moving. We collide over and over until he’s squeezing my shaft so hard I can’t even breathe.
I shout and explode inside of him. Henry whines, a loud needy noise, and then I feel something hot and wet pool through my work pants. I realized I haven’t breathed in what seems like forever and so I inhale, sharply. The world spins around me, and I cling to my houseboy. He is staring me with love all over his face, looking completely blissed out. I bless him with a few more kisses, then we slide apart. He looks upset at the loss, but enjoys playing with my softening cock after settling back down without it inside of him. My seed drips out of his hole and back onto my legs too. Instead of feeling filthy, I feel deeply possessive and horny again.
“That – that was a wonderful surprise Sir,” he says, his sternum heaving.
“Mnnnh…you were divine. Did I trigger something? You made a mess on my leg.”
Henry lifts up the apron corner. “I think you triggered a small anal orgasm, Sir…I felt like someone was blowing up a balloon in me and it popped and then it just felt wonderful. I feel so light.”
I smirk. “That is how it should be. That is the joy I give you.” I plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Thank you Sir, for that gift then.” Henry nuzzles my cheek. “I am afraid I have soiled your pants Sir.”
“You can scrub the semen stains out after dinner. I don’t think I can get up right now Henry, fetch me a clear pair of slacks would you?”
I watch in great amusement as a pouting Henry dismounts me and wobbles off like a baby deer, one hand pressed between those round ass cheeks. I sip my cranberry vodka and look over at the chicken roast. I must be the luckiest man in the world.
As I sip, my thoughts drift back to that idea of a housewarming party. I like the idea more and more. I want every homophobe in that office to be jealous of what I have with Henry. I want them to see our chemistry, our happiness. I also want them to see hickeys. I swirl the ice in my glass. Yes, yes, for sure. I can hear Henry approaching with my pants. After dinner, after he’s scrubbed my pants and done the dishes, I will fuck him silly and give him those lovebites for the week.
______________________________________________
Text is fictional. I pulled this image from this post.
2 weeks 2 days and counting..1 week 5 days and counting…
When Sir travels it’s tough. He isn’t just heading to another town he is continents or countries away. This time is different this time he left me wearing his collar and with my cock locked away. Technology means we are in contact but it doesn’t change the distance and the lack of physical contact.
Work can’t fill the space, gym is only a minor distraction its like part of me is in a holding pattern.
Sometimes I wonder if Masters’ understand the level of disconnect subs and slaves feel?
This slave is lucky because Master knows. When he travels he leaves me tasks to complete take care of his boots, sort out the play equipment, a schedule for gym, working naked and collard.
None of it is big stuff but it helps me keep my head on straight it reminds me of his care.
The tasks help but they cant get me over the building sexual need. A few days are easy, week not so much, 2 weeks and I’m crawling the walls. This time I’m locked even if I wanted to and he had given permission I cant cum. It has created a roller coaster of emotions.
Some days its a slow burn, others a burning ache, now I drip when he sends a message. My cock throbs and my cunt twitches at even the simplest sexual thought. He knows and winds me up even more when we chat online. What is funny when he is in town becomes torture when he is away. He talks about what he will do when he gets back, he lets me tell him about the pictures in my head.
The truth is I could go online and hook up take care of the physical need. I could but I won’t.
Once the choice was made I knew control of my sexual expression was no longer mine. The choice was made freely and with full understanding of the reality his career imposed. Being locked added to his control.
A consequence of the choice is that for now I suffer. Master can get sexual release knowing I can’t, he can experience his power and control over the miles.
This reality is far harder than I ever imagined. First he allows me to re-engage my deepest sexual needs, then he teaches me how they can be met in service to him, after what seems an age he collared me then just when I have settled he ups and goes for a month.
He said I would “learn my place” its hard to know that you are not the first priority. It goes against the messages that our culture sends us. He said he would become the center of my sexual life and he has.
Submission is not for sissies, its hard work every day. He is the single most important relationship in my life, he gets to set the rules, I mold my needs to his.
None of this changes when he travels his control might be remote but it is as concrete and complete as if he was sitting in front of me as I’m writing.
For now I will deal with crashing hormones and emotional swings. I will look after my tasks and communicate when we can. I will spend my night imagining what he is doing and dream of how this slave will show it’s devotion when he gets back.
Because he is Master and I am slave.
The slave learns that the night of relief that will follow when his Master returns will be worth all the waiting. His Master will use his body and obtain pleasure from his slave, and in return the slave will benefit from his Master’s happiness to his obedience.
I don’t have time to post today, sorry. I had a grant proposal I had to finish between two ten hour work days back to back. I haven’t even packed lunch for work and I gotta leave in like 15 minutes. I’m sorry guys, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.
gayboykink – I’ll respond to your message then too.
o_o
>>
There is an alpha top around somewhere nearby. I can sense it. He’s close. …Don’t see anyone though.
Sigh.
I wish someone would come through that door and fuck me. Is it only 11:43 am?
Sigh.
I need to be fucked so badly right now.
____________________
Text is fictional…and somewhat satirical.
I wake up quite suddenly to screaming. I flail in my bed, gasping, suddenly awake and confused. My heart is jackhammering from the surprise. The screaming deteriorates to raw shouts, and the sheets are moving around me like turbulent waters. The shouting turns into words, “Neil! Neil! No don’t go! Neil! NEIL! Wait! Don’t go!” The fog clears from my head as I awaken, although my pulse will not calm. It’s my boyfriend. He’s waking from a nightmare.
“Grady! Grady! Grady, wake up!” I bark at him. I reach over and grab his flailing wrists, trying to calm him. “Grady, wake up!”
He’s still fighting me, begging for Neil. I give him a gentle smack across the face.“GRADY.”
His eyes shoot open. His chest is heaving; he’s covered in sweat. Grady stares at me, trying to process what was happening. “…Rowen…?” he says, sounding entirely baffled.
“Yes, it’s me. It’s Rowen. You were having a nightmare,” I said firmly.
“Rowen….” he says, his voice cracking. “I- I saw Neil. He – he spoke to me – and-” Grady’s throat closes and be begins to cry.
I bite my lip to prevent from getting emotional. Grady needs a rock. I pull him into my arms; he squeezes me tight and buries his face in my neck. I can feel his tears running down my shoulder. I lean backwards and we fall back onto the pillows. “Shhh…it’s ok…deep breaths. Deep breaths, in…out…in…out…very good,” I murmur trying to keep him from hyperventilating. He is soon hysterical, sobbing loudly in my arms. I rock Grady and let him vent.
“Grady you need to breathe. Come back to me, honey.”
He groans against me, then hiccups loudly. “Rowen, I saw him. I saw Neil! He smiled at me, he spoke to me.”
“What did he say sweetheart?”
“He said that I looked happy. He said…he said that he missed me, and he was sorry he left me.” Grady sniffled, “and he said, he was relieved I’d met someone.”
“He mentioned me?” I repeated, intrigued.
“Yes,” Grady sighed, “He liked you. He said it was going to be ok. He just wanted to check on me. Oh god, Rowen, he looked just like the last day I saw him before – before…”
I kiss the back of Grady’s head. “Today is the 8th anniversary of his death isn’t it?”
He nods and sniffs again. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but …gawd, Neil, I miss him.” Grady goes still against me, exhausted.
“Oh honey, I’m not upset. You and Neil were married; his death left a big hole in your heart, love. No one is expecting you to "get over” that. Certainty not me. There is a place for Neil in our lives, but don’t forget I am here and I love you.“
My shoulder feels wet again. It’s a moment before Grady speaks again. "Neil was right. About you, I mean, Rowen. I am really lucky, to be loved by two fantastic men in my life. I need to…I need to let Neil go and move on. He was ready to go. I need to move on.”
I kissed him again. “Whatever you do, I’ll support you.”
He sighed. “I’m sleepy.”
“Go back to bed, love. I’ll hold you. I’ll be here when you wake up.
Grady lifts his head and kisses me on the lips. "I love you, Rowen.”
“I love you too.”
_____________________
Text is fictional.
So I said I’d get some pictures up since we’ve hit 500 followers! Got a new bone pattern bandana/neckerchief, so thought I would show it off. And me of course” Haha.
Wruff!
Adorable! That bottom picture should be in a frame on someone’s desk at work. One of those “I love my puppy <3” frames with like a bone glued on it.
I have a beautiful 4MB version of this GIF… But I bought a harness today and decided to celebrate my playing the piano.
Ahhhhh! This is adorable!
I was sitting on my sofa, reading a romance novel and drinking my tea, when I noticed it. I watched him quite intently, although I was afraid he would sense my eyes boring holes into him and stop. Although the playing happens in the front, his long fingers sweeping over the keys with hypnotic grace, I prefer to watch him from the back. My eyes were first attracted to the bunching of his muscles moving under his skin and the new harness he wears all the time. Then, my gaze slid own to his stiff back, pausing to admire his excellent posture, before resting on his butt. He has a cute butt. It’s one of my favorite parts of him. Well, all of him really. There isn’t a part of him that isn’t adorable – even his toes are frankly, adorable.
But that’s not what I noticed. What caught my attention to the point that I lost focus on my book was his tail. It was moving in sync with the metronome on the piano. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. I smiled, privately. I feel privileged to see my boy wrapped up so entirely in the music that’s playing. It seems to be a part of him; the muscles moving and bunching under his skin show striking similarity to the way the the hammers and actions move in waves under the wooden lid.
I also realize that I’ve never seen him play piano without some sort of gear on. After we have a session, like tonight, we cuddle, we shower, and then he gravitates toward the bench after supping. I wonder what he’s feeling. I wonder if this is just a way for him to unwind, or if he’s pouring love and passion into the music which is why it sounds so beautiful.
I feel lucky that he’s mine. I set my book aside and clutch my tea cup in my hands, sipping it patiently as I watch his tail bob back and forth. It never falls out of sync.
______________________________
Text is fictional. This is slaveboy13.
Abraham lingered on the curb, letting the noise of the carriages and horses and pedestrians fade away to a background buzz. He clutched his gloves in his left hand, not putting them on again despite the cold chill of approaching winter numbing the tips. Instead, he glanced down at the apple creating a noticeable bulge in his front coat pocket. Abraham had been residing in Italy and had a special fondness for winter and the produce it brought. He’d made it a priority to grab an apple from any cart he saw when out conducting his affairs. He’d just bought one from this young man…
Abraham made his decision and turned back around. He strode down the block with a straight back and steady gate, despite the limp from a childhood accident. The young man didn’t see him coming. He was restocking fruit from a crate.
“Excuse me.”
Ethan looked up and he blinked at the stranger. “May I help – oh you were just here.” He set down the create. “Is there something wrong with your apple Sir?” He puffed warm air out of his cheeks into cupped hands, rubbing them together.
Abraham couldn’t tell how old he was. A young man, clearly, still dressed like a boy. They were almost the same height, but it was impossible to see his shape under that stretched sweater he was wearing dotted with holes and trousers patched far too many times. Abraham felt embarrassed standing next to him, because he felt foolish, like a ponce. He envied the natural beauty of this fresh-faced pauper.
“Here,” Abraham said, a bit too loudly, straightening his arm. “Please, take these.”
Ethan’s jaw slackened. “I – I can’t Sir I -“
“I"m not asking. I’m tell you. Take them.”
Ethan hesitantly took the gloves out of Abraham’s hand, as if this were a mean trick. When Abraham didn’t mock him or pull them away, the young man dared to inspect them. They were fine leather – calfskin, maybe. They were hand-stitched and lined with wool. Ethan slipped his hand into one and was surprised at how warm it was, and how well it fit. It was if it had been custom-made for his own size. His hand began to tingle from the sensation returning.
Arbaham saw the happiness on his face, and it occurred that it was the first true, earnest emotion he’d seen in a while. It made him feel contentment he didn’t know to be possible. He nodded, tipped his hat, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Ethan interjected.
Abraham turned.
“…I can really keep these?”
“Yes. I’ve bought apples from you before, and you’ve always been pleasant. It’s getting cold, and it’s nonsense that a boy your age shouldn’t have a pair of gloves in this city. I have an extra pair. It’s no bother.”
“My god, thank you Sir, these are – these are – I can’t even form words to describe my gratitude.”
Abraham smiled. “I hope better fortune finds your way soon.”
Ethan nodded eagerly and watched in awe as Abraham went. He watched Abraham go. He was a handsome fellow, and even with his uneven gate, had a commanding presence. Ethan felt a knot of arousal flair up low in his hips but quickly pushed it away. It wasn’t nice to lust after a man who just gave you a present, even if he was handsome. He was a dandy, and his mother said to be wary of men like that. Still, Ethan doubted a man of such fine standing would court a boy of such low standing such as himself.
When Ethan slid his hand into the other glove, his fingers bumped against something. He’d missed it before because the glove had been on the bottom and folded in half. With confusion on his face, he pulled the heavy thing out – it was a half sovereign coin. Ethan softly gasped. It was his weekly wage in the palm of his hand.
He looked up for the stranger but found him gone.
___________________________________________
Text is fictional.