Category: Blog

Your blog category

Gallery
by ccallenreese

spacerobotfive:

A midday nap in his arms.

The room had originally been half sun-room, half parlor, a small walled off addition in his aunt’s Victorian-era apartment for visiting guests to drink tea and gossip. In these recent times, it housed storage, a collection of light hungry plants, and a small bed for over-night guests. It was our home now, and that little niche was our space. After Matt’s parents kicked him out for being gay, I ran away from foster care with him to his aunt’s home two hours away. Matt called her in tears; she immediately bought us a bus ticket and told us to get our butts on it. We arrived with a duffel bag each, hungry and exhausted, but holding hands and smiling.

She’d set us up in this tiny room and let us have our privacy. It wasn’t going to be easy. I needed to finish my GED since I failed my senior year; we needed to get our footing and pick a direction for us to go. My baby, Matt, I’m so proud of him though. He’s from a wealthy family and never had to want for anything, but the morning after we arrived he went and got himself a job serving at a diner. I knew it couldn’t have been easy on his pride, his confidence. Did I mention how much I love him? It’s hard to know at this age if “love” is “forever love” or just “stupid love”, but I think it’s a little of both.

Matt got back from working the early breakfast shift and went right to bed for a nap. He was so worn-out. I took a break from doing chores, intending to reward him for his hard work with slow, lazy sex, but he was already asleep. My poor Matt. I spoon up next to him, wiggling my arms around his shoulders.
“Hey,” he mutters, more of a grunt than anything, but the corner of his lip goes up.
“Sorry didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, kissing the back of his neck, “You’re so nice and warm though.”
“Mmm, itsh nice. Love you,” he smiles again, before drifting back off. It’s the beginning of a wonderful afternoon nap together, like two lazy cats in the sun. When he’ll stir a a couple hours later, I intend to greet him with lube and a condom and make slow love to him. Wake him up with my hand between his legs. He loves that, when he’s in just the right mood.

Of course, my chores might not get done in time, but we need to make sure we take time for each-other. I worry that we’ll become so obsessed with ‘making it’ on our own that we’ll lose focus of why we’re doing it. Matt is my reason. I am his. I sniff the back of his neck. It smells faintly of strawberry conditioner, diner coffee, and him. God, I love this boy. I hope this really is the start to the long, long story of us. 

____________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Been trying to caption this picture for months and am pleased with the results.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

There was someone in my bed again. I groaned. That meant I’d caved in and taken E at that club. Every time I take E, I end up taking some stranger home. Last month, I also took home syphilis. I cracked open an eye, wincing, to see what sort of creature had fucked my sore ass last night ….and ended up just staring at a wall of muscle. A six pack…no, an eight pack? maybe? He had a torso like you’d see on a statute in a museum, something carved out of flesh colored marble. I gawked, until a deep buttery voice said, “Hey you awake?”

I looked up into the face of the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Solid, cut jaw, aqualine nose, high cheekbones, perfectly shaped cinnamon eyebrows over bright tea colored eyes. I worked my own jaw, unable to form sentences. “I um – I…yeah.”
“Good, how do you feel?”
Horny? Dizzy? Baffled? “Like there’s cotton in my head…” I sat up, rubbing my temples. It was then I realized I was not in my room and I froze, looking around. “Shit, where am I? How hard did I party last night? Why do I always take E…whywhywhy…”
Mr. Sexy sat up next to me and said, “It wasn’t E. Someone put GHB in your drink last night. I punched the guy in the face, got him arrested, then took you home.”
I stare. “I didn’t pick you up – you rescued me?”
“Yeah,” he says, grinning sheepishly.
“Then why is my ass sore, did he- did you -”
“No no, you uh, tried to sit down on some steps outside my apartment building and ending up dropping yourself right on your tailbone.”
I search his face, seeking any signs of him fibbing, but found only honestly…and a cute smile. “Well thank you Mr….”
“Kennington.”
“…Wait, of Kennington Law Group?”
“That’s the one,” he sighs.
“What’s your first name?”
“Rutherford.” He cringes, “Most people call me Rudy.”
I chuckle, “You don’t really like that either?”
“No.”
“What about Ken?”
He pauses, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair, “Yeah, Ken’s alright.”
“Well Ken, thank you for rescuing me. A true gentleman. If I may, I’d like to reward you, go home with a purposely sore ass,” I offered, placing a hand on his thigh.
His eyebrow goes up, and he chews on his lip. Despite his half hard-on under the sheets, he replies, “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea, you could blackmail me something….being semi famous makes me paranoid. I wish though, I haven’t gotten laid in months.”
“Fine.” I look around and find a notepad and pen in the night stand drawer. In hasty font I scribble: ‘I give my consent to let R. Kennington fuck my brains out,’ and scribbled my signature. “There.”
Ken takes it, looking bemused. “Well, no one can argue with this. Alright, let’s get some fluids into you, and some food, and then you can reward me?”
“Mmm,” I nibble his shoulder, grazing a hand over his defined chest, “Not sure if I can wait…”
He reaches behind me and squeezes my ass, “You will wait, I don’t want you passing out on me.”
A thrill ran through me. “Yes sir,” I purr.
He grins. I can tell he likes that. I can tell he likes me. The only downside to the three hours of incredible, masculine sex we had was that I couldn’t tell anyone about my catch afterwards. When I saw my friends again, I had to make up a fake story, about E and a one night stand, all while Ken’s phone number lingered in my pocket. My pocket, where all the condoms were, now empty.

______________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

You don’t take a kid into a toy store unless it’s on purpose because you know your kids will want you to buy everything in the store. When taking the slave for a walk, same principle applies. Avoid all bondage stores, piercing stores, shoe stores… When you’re a well recognized face in the neighborhood though, it’s hard to just stroll past these places without saying hello.

When we walked past the store where we bought what he was wearing, Max, the owner, was standing outside. He greeted me with a big hug and thud on the back and took us inside to show us the new line of books he was carrying. Well, there were a lot of pretty men in this books and I got more than l little distracted. When I looked up, my slave was crouched by the jewelry cabinet and was giving me those puppy eyes. Of course, he saw something he wanted. Of course. It’s so hard to say no to him, he’s such a good boy.

…and yes, I bought it. A silver chain for him to wear for social settings where he couldn’t wear his collar. And I bought a book. I’m seriously a push-over outside the dungeon. But my boy is happy and that’s what matters to me.

_______________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

The white rumped warbler is an unusual species in where the male seduces other males for the attention of females. During mating season, the more submissive warbler will seduce a potential mate through dance by gyrating and by lifting his rear up and down. The blue bib on its back draws the eye from the shoulders down the spine; as the skin ripples from movement, it mesmerizes other males. When the warbler flashes his white rump at his suitor, it indicates that the suitor has pleased him and wishes for his attention. If interested back, the suitor will go into a frenzy at being shown a glimpse of the warblers sex organs and will push him down, cover him with his body, and mate with him vigorously.

___________________________________________________
Text is fictional, imagine David Attenborough saying it anyway.