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by ccallenreese

ultraboyhunter:

Ah, an old favorite. The Missionary Position.

The years between 13-19 are what we call the Wandering Years. This is when the temptations of consumerism, flesh, sin, and apostasy lure young men away from the Church and off the path to salvation. The Church fights hard against this to the point where they encouraged the young lads who grew up preaching the Mormon word in pairs together to betray the other at any sign of straying from the flock. Guilt, shame, and shunning was cruelest the for boys growing into fine young homosexuals. It wasn’t even their fault to be born that way, but yet they had to understood why God punished them with such a prefernce.  

Joseph didn’t believe God would punish his lambs as a reward for years of preaching his name and reading his Good Book. He believed that there was great potential in those young homosexuals who so badly want to feel loved by God, to believe He had a plan for them. They want to volunteer, collect cans for food drives, build orphanages, and preach the word to those who will listen. It didn’t seem right to dispel them from the Church.

So, Joseph pitched a plan to the Elders. He said to send to him every young man with homosexual tenancies for “re-education”. Oh sure, he taught them to worship on their knees (while sucking cock) and self purification (through dutiful masturbation) and maintaining the body as a temple (by teaching them how to prevent STDs). He taught them everything about how to worship cock and how to have proper sex under God’s watchful eye. Most importantly, they learned how to hide their sexuality until it was safe.

It wasn’t exactly what Joseph wanted, but providing them with a stable outlet for their pent up sexual energy and swollen balls prevented them being caught, abandoned, or kicked out the house traumatically. Plus, he had an endless supply of fresh gorgeous faces of men on the cusp of adult hood and college years.

Yup, Joseph was sure doing the Lord’s work. “Oh God, oh God, I’m cumming!” absolutely counted. David said during an orgasm at one of these sessions, he actually saw Jesus. Can’t argue with results like that.

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by ccallenreese

yeahstr82gay:

Just look at him, and you can see that he’s the whole package.  One of those guys who, when you knew him in high school, you wanted to hate him so bad, because he was so good-looking and athletic and popular, but you couldn’t hate him, because he actually was nice.  A boy scout type.  And smart, too.  Yeah … that’s Ethan.

The high school quarterback at his mid-sized school, now at college on an academic scholarship, a nice boy, his parents love him.  So does his girlfriend.  He seems serious about her.  His little brothers look up to him.  His fraternity has already made him treasurer.

But on Sunday mornings he comes here, to my apartment, wearing whatever pair of undies I secretly sent him the week before, and makes breakfast, or my coffee, or whatever the hell else I want him to do around the place.  And then that beautiful, perfect boy slips off the undies and climbs into my bed, or on my lap, or between my legs, or on the floor in front of me, and I have him that way, too.

Who knows what makes him do it?  I’ve never asked, he’s never offered.  Sometimes, right after I cum in his ass, or as he pulls off my dick, I see it in his eyes, that lingering question: “Why am I doing this?”  Maybe he craves male attention, maybe his dad’s an ice cube, maybe he really is a closet case and fucking that girl of his takes more effort than I think.  Maybe he was just born to it.

For my part?  I don’t really care.  In two years he’s gone, off to get married and make babies and start counting the days until vacation and retirement.  But I like to think, on Sunday mornings, he’ll always think of me.

What is it about boys named Ethan that keep getting themselves into gay trouble?

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by ccallenreese

yeahstr82gay:

There, in the den, away from the party, Josh had ditched his pants and shirt and dropped before Miller’s dick.  

“God I’ve missed you,” he groaned quietly.

“Shhh….don’t want the girls to hear you…or anyone else, for that matter.”  Miller spread his legs and moved his shirt away so it wouldn’t get hit by any spray.  "Just go.“

Josh nodded and started bobbing his head almost immediately.  Miller sighed and leaned his head against the wall.  One of these days, they had to go away … take less chances, and more time … 

I’m betting Miller never told Josh he threw that party specifically so he had an excuse to invite him over…

New writer on the block

New writer on the block

by ccallenreese

We’re a small, clannish bunch, hunched over tea cups and staring at dicks on our dash until the early morning hours…and now there’s another in our midst: My Gift For Dad. If the internet is 100% accurate, Florida is full of crazy people but also the hottest submissive boys. It balances out. 

Here’s some of the other caption blogs besides mine – 
porno-graph
captionstojerkby
femme4masc 
bzork 
yeahstr82gay
Drakestories
graybeards
bostongaybro

And bondcyberrole, if you’re into capturing and torturing straight boys…

If I missed one, send me a note and I’ll add you! Please follow and support these writers. 

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by ccallenreese

He’s the reason my econ homework isn’t getting done right now. I can’t stop thinking about him and the way he took me last night, how he handled me, how he made my ass feel so special that I rode a man for the first time ever. He made me feel special. All those kind words he used on me…baby, sweetheart, said my ass was magical, that I was an angel, my skin was dove soft, how I made the most erotic moans, how the hourglass shape of my back was beautiful, and he loved the way my skin rippled over my muscles  Said I had the best hips for grabbing too.

He rubbed his cock against my entrance to make me horny and eager, and I felt no shame when I finally took it inside of me. I owed it to him to make him ragged and breathless and dizzy with my body, and I did. Our climax was the most violent, passionate thing my body has ever survived, complete with vertigo as my balls turned inside out and I gushed cum like a broken sprinkler.

That was how I always imagined sex, real sex, not fumbling with clothes and condom wrappers and “hey what’s your name again?” as I’m bent awkwardly over the sofa and penetrated without being prepared right. 

I sighed in surrender and threw my highlighter over my textbook. Daydreaming of making love with him is making my pulse quicken and my jeans tight. Fuck it. I grabbed my phone and sent him a text: “I have leftover BBQ ribs and beer. Bring condoms. Now.”

I got a reply back almost immediately: “Thank god, I can’t stop thinking about you. Leaving now.”

________________________________________________________
Post is fictional. Inspired by a comment by sweeeetb1. Models unknown are Ben Driver and Anthony Romero from Guys in Sweatpants.

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by ccallenreese

boysinplaid:

God, he’s so pretty.

This is dancer Robert Bolle again. He is pretty isn’t he? With his little chest constellations, firm pouty lips, soulful eyes, and arms sculpted like sand dunes, he could break your heart or say the the cruelest, cutting words about your body and you’d still cling to every honeyed word he says. Fortunately for you, judging by he look on his face, Robert is on the cusp of ravishing the next person who comes along unconscious… and I can’t help but feel he’s looking into a mirror here. 

(Btw in case my new followers were wondering what that explosion of ballet pics were – that was one of my late night ballet reblog sessions. Do love the dancing men. This is the last pic for tonight~)

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by ccallenreese

Gravity vanishes, bones soften into gum, time is suspended as each jump lasts a millennium… is she an instructor? or a sorceress, working her spells on the most supple male bodies?

lasylphidedubolchoi:

Nikolai Tsiskaridze trained by Galina Ulanova

Photo by Mikhail Logvinov

(This is not a recent photo. Galina Ulanova passed away in 1998 at the age of 88. She was 87 when this picture was taken, so it would have been shot in 1997. Nikolai is rehearsing his role as Narcissus. Here is the other image from the set. Some more info on the photo is here.)

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by ccallenreese

lasylphidedubolchoi:

Ruslan Skvortsov [of the Bolshoi Ballet] as Phoebus de Châteaupers in Bolshoi’s La Esmeralda

Irina Lepnyova photography

Oooo such bulging calves and dainty toes. …Doesn’t it look like he’s hailing a taxi? I can imagine some gnarled old Italian taxi driver taking one look at him and exclaiming, “Damn! Is that what the pansies are wearing these days!?” …and then getting in a fender-bender from being distracted by his amazing legs. Cause damn, Ruslan knows how to rock the blue tights.