Tag: boyfriends

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

wolfgangreborn:

Falling into those brown eyes

“Hi,” you say as you caress his shoulder.
“Hi,” he smiles back.
“Worn out?”
He nods but looks happy. “I’m exhausted.”
“Well your tour bus doesn’t leave until 9 pm tonight, so you can sleep all day if you want.”
“But…I don’t wanna. I want to spend it with you.”
“Aww, babe.” You lean over to kiss his forehead. “You’re very sweet, but you would also be useless. Get some rest. I’ll wake you up for lunch.”
“You promish?”
“Yes.”
“Thatsh good.” He lowers himself back to the pillow, and in seconds he’s snoring.

I snort and shake my head. Dead to the world.

We had broken up before he went on tour. Not that we really wanted to break up, but that he was going on tour for six weeks and his band was getting a lot of attention. That’s a long time to be apart, especially with cute boys in every city waiting with a click of an app. We always prided ourselves on being a realistic, casual couple, but both of us were trying to out-stoic the other in being chill about the break up. Neither wanted of us wanted it, and we took our pain in silence. Time heals all wounds right?

I tried to ignore that halfway through said tour it came through Austin, and that they had the next day off in Austin, and I tried not to show any interest in the show. I wasn’t expecting him to show up at my door that evening of the show – when he was supposed to be at sound-check, that asshole – with red eyes, telling me he missed me, he was lonely, he was in love with me, and he also, did he say he missed me?
I mean, what guy doesn’t want to hear that? Swept me right off my feet. I may have cried when we made up in the hallway. He guest listed me for the show, and we left as soon as his set was finished. I was still bewildered at the fact I got laid last night and woke up with him in my bed. I watched him sleep. Yep, he was very much here… in my bed. Mr. I’m Slowly Getting Famous just wanted to sleep in my bed. Good Christ. I felt my chest getting tight.

The next three weeks of this tour were going to be painful for an entirely new reason. It was going to suck waiting for him to get home so we could pick up from where we left off.

But I still had at least half a day with him today. I decided to pack a lunch so we could take it to the park together. It would be a date. It would be romantic. It would be just us.

_______________________
Captions are fictional.

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My phone rings just around noon. I push around the papers I was organizing until I find my phone. I glance at the number before answering it.

“Hello Sir, what’s going on?” I ask. Atlas doesn’t call me in the middle of the day often. Once was for because he left his lunch here, the other was because he was drunk at a holiday party and wanted to hear my voice.
“Hey boy,” Atlas said, “You know how I was feeling kinda low energy this morning?”
“Yes? Are you alright?”
“It’s gotten worse. I feel like total shit. Everything aches, I can’t stop sneezing. Jorge is sending me home before I – quote end quote – contaminate the entire office.”
“That sounds like Jorge,” I snort. “My poor baby, you need me to come get you?”
“No, I can drive…I’m just gonna pass out when I get – AACHOO!”
“Oh dear. Alright. See you soon. Wait did you eat?”
“No…don’t feel much like eating.”
“Good to know. See you soon. Drive safely.”
“Bye.”

I hang up and glance at the piles of his paperwork I was organizing and filing. New year, new folders. “Well, I guess this will have to wait.” Secretly, I am delighted though because as his houseboy, I live for moments like these.

I dust myself off and make a detour to turn on the space heater in the bedroom before I hurry into the kitchen. My man is going to be hungry, and that cold food I packed in his lunch won’t do. I take a tupperware container of broth out of the freezer and dump it into a big pot on the stove. I turn it on low, and let it defrost while I chop up carrots and the last potato. I add a few more things from cans. By the time Atlas arrives home, I’m just putting the lid on the vegetable and rice soup to simmer.

Sharky detects Atlas’s presence before I do. I rush to the door where the dog is already waiting for his Master to come home.  Atlas gives our stocky Sharky a pat on his rump, and gives me a “hey boy”. He looks like he’s going to fall over.
“Oh jesus, Atlas, look at you. You’re all flushed.” I press a hand to his head. “You’re burning up. Let’s get you into bed.”

I lead Atlas upstairs to the bedroom. I remove his tie, unbutton his shirt, and have him sit on the bed so I can remove his pants.
“I love that you undress me,” he mutters.
I smile. “I enjoy it too.” I fold his work clothes and set them on a chair to be put away later. “Now let’s get you into paja…” I hear rustling noises and turn around. He’s already curled up in the bed sheets. “No, this ish go..goo… ACHOO! ..uughh..”
I toss him the tissue box. Atlas blows his nose.

Sharky sniffs at Atlas’s hand and settles into his cushion next to the bed. He must detect his Master is sick, because normally all Sharky wants to do when Atlas comes home is play.
“My poor baby. You want something to eat?”
“Yeah, I’m hungry all of a sudden.”

I bring him a mug of soup and a glass of cool water. He eats about half of it between sneezes before his eyelids start to drop. “Is it ok if I don’t finish this? I need a nap like nobody’s business.”
“Sure, not a problem. You rest.” I tuck him into bed and kiss his temple. “I’m going to run to the pharmacy, to get you some medicine, some more tissues, and some Powerade or something.”
“K,” he says, snuggling his pillow. I sit on the edge of the bed and stroke his hair. He yawns. “You would make such a good boyfriend,” he slurs before falling asleep.

I sit there, holding the half empty mug, and stare at him. Did he really just say that? Color rises to my cheeks. I’ve heard about this from other houseboys, how easy it is for your man to fall in love with you. I never pictured Atlas as the type. He was too serious, too professional. Everything with him was divided with lines, and nothing contaminated other sections. Work was never mixed with play. His sports socks were always in a different pile than the dress ones. I had accepted I would always be “the help” and nothing more to him.

However, the way Atlas looked at me had begun to change over the last couple months. It was a softer look, as if he was really seeing me and not just acknowledging me. The touches lingered a bit more. On New Years, he kissed me – and it wasn’t a kiss of ownership, or possession, but one of passion and intimacy. It made my cock stir a little, I won’t lie.

I watch Atlas sleep and wonder if he was even aware he said that to me. I smile and stand up, pondering this. I wouldn’t mind being his boyfriend. I enjoy taking care of him, organizing his house, making his meals. He’s handsome, and had a nice sense of humor. He has a nice butt. Besides, someone had to take care of him when he was sick like this. Sharky couldn’t do it. Atlas tosses and turns. I tuck him back in, and turn the space heater down a little. “Poor baby.”

I just hope I dont get sick. The role reversal would break Atlas’s brain. I make a mental note to get facemasks and antibacterial gel on my shopping trip. I would take care of him as if he were a boyfriend. Love is good as medicine isn’t it? I make another note to add chocolate on my list.

____________________________
Text is fictional. Edited for tense issues.

Sunday playday!

Sunday playday!

by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

gayboykink:

I wanted to make a little post about how bf released me from chastity, but it turned out to be a thorough report on yesterday’s endeavors. Hope you’ll enjoy! x

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Sunday’s are always the most useless days. Nothing to do but to sit home, and mentally prepare for the terrible monday morning that’s coming up. Perhaps that’s why my boyfriend ocassionally throws in a ‘kink’ day during free, lazy sundays. I love it when he puts the kink in ‘the-kinky-bf’ ^^

Just some background: I was in chastity for about 17 days pretty much 24/7. As you might’ve seen on my blog, the horniness it caused was killing me and I was playing with toys an awful lot to get some sexual relief besides the casual sex we had. That didn’t go unnoticed to my boyfriend either of course, so he announced that this weekend would be a nice day to play. I always get even more excited when he announces his kinky endeavors, because it makes me wonder what has inspired him and what he’ll be up to.

So… Sunday evening – after almost a full weekend of eagerly awaiting my fate – he took me to the bedroom. and told me to strip down. He then opened our naughty drawer (which is on my side of the bed of course ^^) and took out the penis gag, blindfold and spandex hood. Then came half a roll of leftover plastic wrap, which he used to bind my torso and arms so I couldn’t get my hands near my chastity cage.
He pushed me over, so I fell on my back on our bed and he cut a small hole in the plastic to get to the chastity lock. I was already leaking at the anticipation of what as going to happen when he took off the cage. Instead of immediately playing with my dick, he began stroking my body through the plastic. Nipples, thighs, chest, chin.. everywhere except for my throbbing dick that was just released from his confinement. 

Then all of a sudden he took the head of my dick, and started rubbing his thumb over my glans. I’m normally not that sensitive over there, but the denial made this the worst torture ever and I quickly began struggling my bondage and started moaning in my gag in a way too high pitch. He asked me if I wanted him to stop. I said yes, but apparently that was the wrong answer. Bf took the empty roll of plastic wrap, firmly pushed me on my side and started spanking my ass thoroughly. I knew what this was about. It was a predicament. He made me choose whether I wanted an agonizing cock head rubbing, or a rough spanking with the role. There was no way to win this. Because I hated the ‘thumbing’, I tried to endure the spanking for as long as possible, but when I was close to tears and struggled a lot, bf turned me over and started ‘properly’ stroking my dick getting me close to the edge in just a few strokes.

I tensed my back and legs to keep the orgasm as far away as possible, but again there was no way to win. After about twenty minutes (or perhaps 45.. idk) of edging, moaning and sweating bf had enough. He stopped, told me to cool down a little, and left the bedroom, leaving me throbbing and struggling on the bed. The gag caused me to drool a lot as well, but instead of swallowing it, I was only able to suck the plastic cock in my mouth… I’d rather prefer bf’s, but he left his cock surprisingly untouched during the whole scene. He even stayed dressed throughout.

After an unknown amount of time, bf came back. Immediately grabbed my dick and got my attention. In the mean time I barely lost my erection, even though he was away for quite some time. Just a minute later we were back at where we stopped: Right on the edge. Intense, loud and frustrating.

I begged him. Not to make me cum, but to please stop the stimulation for a while because the struggle to hold back an orgasm became harder and harder. Bf probably thought that me begging him to stop only meant I wasn’t being teased enough. He obviously wanted me to beg for release, but I didn’t. It wouldn’t help anyhow. For about fifteen minutes bf switched between teasing, some ball squeezing and (again) spanking with the empty plastic wrap role. He was pushing me with his edging. I was again close to tears, because every time I begged bf to stop, he went on for one or two more strokes, making it harder and harder to hold back. I was not allowed to cum, that was something he made very clear. 

But I did.
Muffled moans came from my gag, because I just couldn’t hold back a stream of cum dribbling out my cock when bf stopped stroking. He quickly continued his stroking and pushed me juuuust over the edge again. And again. And again. In about ten minutes he ruined like 5 orgasms until I was completely empty and one sweaty mental mess… Even then he continued palming me until I begged him to please stop stimulating my overly sensitive cock. He did and he left the room again, without saying a word. When he came back he cleaned the mess on my belly, pushed me over on my tummy and lubed my ass. 
I was exhausted. My jaws were aching from the gag, my ass was red from the spanking and my cock sore from bf’s unlubed treatment.. But still I loved the fact he still had a fire going in his dominance. Even though he had be using me for almost two hours, he still wanted one thing and that was to fuck my ass and fill me up with his cum. And so he did. It was the cherry on the pie. He collapsed on top of me and whispered in my ear how much he loved this. Then he left the bedroom again to let the situation really sink in. Fifteen minutes later, he came back, cut open the plastic wrap and undid my hood, gag and blindfold. We cuddled and I thanked him. It was awesome and I needed him to know that. 

We haven’t locked my chastity back on, because even the day after there’s still soreness and red irritated skin on my dick. Even if I wanted to masturbate, I couldn’t, haha. Next time I hope bf uses some lube on my dick as well, haha. On the plus side; For the first time in weeks I can get hard while writing a post. That’s a very nice feeling as well.  ^^

*jaw drops*

Sore muscles?

Sore muscles?

by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

gayboykink:

@the-kinky-bf just came home from a mountain bike weekend. He had sore muscles, so of course I offered to give him a massage after dinner. He loves that.
So he undressed, jumped on the bed and let me oil his lower back for some rough squeezing and kneading. He moaned when I hit the right places like I was giving a hell of a blowjob. So I massaged harder just to hear him moan, almost sensually. I got hard just from those sounds.

I playfully kneaded his ass every now and then as well. Just for fun. After some teasing nibbling and licking I knew he was getting hard, even though he was laying on his tummy.
‘Seems like I’m straining’, I said staring at the bulge in my jeans. ‘You’re locked up?’, he asked. I nodded with a cheeky grin. ‘… and I gave everything a nice shave down there as well.’
‘Oh, show me!’, he responded.
I undressed teasingly slow, especially when I pulled down my tight undies.
‘What else did you do today? Something naughty?’
I thought about the pics I made for Tumblr, the fact I wore my collar the whole day and my chastity which always makes me eager for playing around with dildos.
‘I had some fun with a few toys’, I said while I laid myself down next to bf. ‘I missed you a bit this weekend.’
‘Well I’m here now.’
Bf turned around to lay on his back and I noticed a small stain of precum as he did so. He was hard. He told me he had a big load to give and waved his dick around while looking at me.
‘Just sit down, dear. You’ve been practicing today don’t you? Show me.’

I smiled, no dildo fucks like bf’s dick that’s fot sure. It started with some little squeezes in his ass during a massage and now I was about to ride his leaking dick. I’m not complaining.
I crawled on top if him, gave him some kisses in his neck and licks on his cheeks before I got a dab of lube and hovered my ass over his cock. When I was about to sit down, bf forcefully threw his hips up, fully penetrating me in one rough thrust. I yelped out loud. Not out of pain, hell no, but out of pure surprise.
Bf smiled. ‘You’ve rawlly been practicing right?’ He was right. I was loose from this afternoon’s dildo play and he noticed immediately.
I humped up and down with my chastity bumping against his stomach, straining as always.
After a few minutes bf pushed me back, he wanted me to lay down on my back. The ultimate position to get to my g-spot and get me moaning like a mess. And that ws exactly what happened. He was rough, but he knew exactly what he was doing: Pounding the heck out of me and bashing my prostate to get some precum flowing from my caged dick. Within minutes he came inside me and collapsed on top of me with his dick still in my ass.

He laughed. Bf tends to get out the mood quickly after cumming, but every time I’m laying there. Horny, squirming, still panting and moaning with my throbbing chastity and leaking ass and cock. Fuck I’m horny. I need more. Not now, bf says. He needs a power nap after such a long sportive weekend.
All I can do is wonder whether his sore muscles are gone after such an intense fuck or if I should wake him up for round number two? I think I’ve made a decision.

See kids, if you skip church on Sundays you can get this instead.

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I yawn, ruffling my hair as I amble into the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, slightly startled to see a slightly older man cooking in the buff. His focus is on a pot on the stove. I tilt my head and rub my eyes. I didn’t think anyone else was home. George didn’t mention he had a houseboy. Well, some men don’t think to, they get so used to having them around.
“Morning, how about some coffee?” I say, sounding sluggish.
He glances in my direction, but doesn’t say anything back. I shrug it off, figuring he’s a silent type, then go about pouring some cereal into a bowl. I add the milk and sit down to read the paper. Halfway through on article on an all male ballet revue, I realize I still don’t smell coffee.
“Hey, do you mind making some c-” I tilt the paper back. The houseboy isn’t there. I look left and look right. I began to feel odd and the hair on the back of my neck is standing up. The stove is clear; the towel is hanging on the oven.

I put the paper down and glance out of the window toward the driveway; not a soul. I wander around the house, hoping to find him there or in the backyard. Feeling slightly frightened, I launched myself up the stairs to George’s room and find him safe and shaving in the bathroom.

“Hey um, George?” I pant.
“Hey is everything alright?” he asks, mid stroke.
“I …I don’t know. I ran into your houseboy downstairs and now he’s vanished. I was wondering if maybe I was wrong in thinking he’s your houseboy and someone broke in the house and….George why are you looking at me that way?”
He swallows hard. “I don’t have a houseboy.”
“….What?”
George’s eyes are wide. “Well, I mean…I did, but he…he passed away a couple years ago.”
“Christ,” I gasp and lean against the door-frame. “I swear, there was a guy I saw downstairs. He was cooking something on the stove.”
George finishes shaving as quickly as he can. He washes his face off and we scramble downstairs to the kitchen. The towel is on the floor when we get there.

George kneels and picks it up. “Ivan always used to wear this over his shoulder when cooking. I used to chide him when it fell off, which was often…” his voice catches in his throat.
“Jesus, George.”
George walks to the living room, clutching the towel, and gestures to a photo on the mantel. “That was us.”
My skin breaks out in small bumps. “That’s him!” I squeak, “That was him. He looked at me!”
“His name is Ivan,” George says, sniffling. “Oh god, why is this happening. Ivan passed away two years ago. He had cancer, it got into his brain. Why did he show himself to you and not me?”
Suddenly, George is crying and I’m embracing him, trying to comfort my new boyfriend. I’m soothing him and stroking the back of his head as he mourns when I smell it.

I sniff the air. George holds his breath and sniffs too.
“Do you smell that?” he asks, hesitant.
“Yeah I do,” I reply, swallowing my fear in my throat again. “It’s the smell of fresh coffee.”

We both look at each other and bolt to the kitchen. The scent is fading. There aren’t any full cups on the counter. No steam comes from the pot. However…the cupboard revealing the cups is open.

George and I are speechless.
“I …I think he wants me to make coffee,” I volunteer.
“Why would he want you to do that?”
I think. “Maybe he wants me to take care of you.”
George face lights up. “You think so? You think it’s his way of approving of you?”
“Perhaps so,” I say with a smile. I go about making coffee and a nice breakfast, looking over my shoulder the entire time.

George and I were on edge all morning, but there were no other traces of Ivan on that day or any other day. I kept dating George and eventually moved into his house. I mostly assumed Ivan had moved on. Although, once in a while, I would come into the kitchen to make dinner and find the towel on the floor, and I would wonder…

________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Happy Halloween. Be nice to have a source for this.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Awww lookit the puppy. What a beautiful baby. Is it a blue mix?
I nod.
"Hi there,” he coos. I watch as Zach takes off his glasses and gives the pup a little scritch. My eyes wander over his suit tailored to his body. Blue looks fantastic on him; he could almost be a fashion model posing with a prop dog. The two of them are far too beautiful for my shabby living room.

“So you finally got a real dog huh?” Zach asks.
“Well…”
“He’ll be a good companion for Smokey huh? Say, where is your pup boy anyway?”
“You’re looking at him.”
Zach blinks. “What…?”
“Look at the name tag.”
Zach does. “It says Smokey. Wait.” He looks at me, then at the dog. “What?”
“My pup boy liked being a dog so much, that I woke up one morning and discovered he had turned into a real, live pup.”
Zach is staring at me sideways now. “Not sure if you’re joking.”
“I assure you I’m not. I’ll prove it. Try to get him to do a trick. Something complicated.”
Zach thinks about this a minute. He goes through the basics – “shake”, “bark”, “roll over”. He then makes a gun with his fingers and says “bang!”. Smokey rolls on his back and puts his paws in the air, head lolling on the ground.
I laugh. “Good boy Smokey!” Smokey gets to his feet and comes over to me for a belly rub.
“There’s no way you could have trained a pup to do all of that in such a short time.” Zach says hesitantly.
I shrug. “As I said, my pup boy turned into a pup. Unbelievable as it is, that’s what happened.”
My friend looks at the puppy, silent.

Then, as if right on cue, my pup boy saunters into the room. He’s just woke up from a nap and was wondering where everyone was and who took his collar off while he was out.
“Hey!” Zach cries.
I burst out laughing. “Busted! You totally believe it!”
“I did not!”
“You absolutely did!” I fall back into a chair, clutching my sides. “God your face…Jesus Zach, that was fantastic!”

Smokey the pup boy tilts his head in confusion. “Roo?”
The real pup, whom I actually named Greybeard, goes to sniff him. Within minutes, they’re playing. I watch them, still chuckling. Zach looks sullen and miffed.
“That wasn’t very nice.”
“No, it really wasn’t, but the opportunity presented itself. I’m sorry. You do look bloody good in that suit you know.”
“Well,” Zach smirks, “I expect all you’ll get out of is a good look, because you are never gonna undress me out of it.”
I groan. “Aw, Zach, that was just harmless fun, why are you being hard to get? You know you came over here to get laid.”
“I did,” he admitted, ‘But you have two pups that need your attention.“
"They can amuse themselves as you see – hey, Smokey, watch out for the coffee table! Good boy.”

Zach folds his arms. “It’s gonna cost you an expensive dinner. THEN, I’ll think about coming back home with you.”
“Alright, alright. I can handle being owned by three boys.”
He grins. “That’s more like it.”

_______________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Couldn’t find the model but the clothier is Patrick Johnson Tailors.

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holdmelikeiwanttorunaway:

Everyone wants to have someones arms wrapped around them when they fall asleep at night. 

You hear the cries first. It pierces your rest like a sharp piece of glass. With great difficulty, you pull yourself away from the warm embrace of sleep. The baby is still crying. Your lover stirs under you, but you speak up first. “No, I’ll go.”
“But itsh my turn,” he slurs, mostly sleep still.
“Go back to sleep,” I say firmly. He worked a long shift today.
He doesn’t need another second to reconsider this and immediately dozes back off. You sigh and extract yourself from your comfort spot – latched onto his back like a koala. You sigh again as you get out of bed and your skin prickles in the cool air. You find your way into a bathrobe and stumble down the hallway like a zombie.

The baby is red faced and flailing. You smile when he stops crying to look at you with big blue eyes. He’s really cute, even when he’s waking you up in the middle of the night. Those cheeks! Those dimples! The tiny fingers! You transport the infant to the changing table and with practiced motions, whisk away the soiled diaper, clean the infant, and fix a new diaper in place. During the day you use cloth, but at night, you use disposable ones. Thank god, you think, yet again congratulating yourself on that idea.

The baby is still fussy, so you amble to the kitchen with the kid latched on your shoulder. With your eyes mostly closed, you wash your hands. Then, you prepare a bottle, test it on your wrist, and let the child nurse pressed up against your bare chest. You nod off but snap to attention when you remember what you’re doing. A long yawn follows. The baby burps in a timely fashion and is put back to bed; despite your fatigue you tuck him in carefully and make sure he is comfortable. You linger over his crib until he falls asleep.

It’s only then are you free to return to the paradise that is your own warm bed, complete with the thermal body of your beloved Sam. You slip out of the bathrobe and dive in, hurrying to be attached to him again.

Sam stirs. “Hey, e’rythin ok?”
“Yeah, the Goober’s fine.”
He smiles and chuffs through his nose. “I love that you’re such a good father to our baby. Its sexy,” he says. Or you think he says, as it all comes out as one long, slurred word.
You pause a moment, wondering if you heard that correctly. He said “our”. He hasn’t said that before now. It was always “his” baby, or when Sam was speaking, “my” baby. Technically, it wasn’t even his.

For a while, you two and Sam had an open relationship after years of waffling between on and off monogamy. Sam made the mistake of having one drunken night with a ex, only to wake up sober and discover she’d gotten six times more crazier since he’d left.

Not long after, Sam found out she was pregnant. They were gonna make it work. She had gotten her fix of attention during the nine months of pregnancy, but was over the whole motherhood thing an hour after a rather uncomfortable delivery. When she found out Sam was bisexual, and his lover had been a man, she said the baby boy was “tainted” and planned to leave town. Since Sam had used a condom, he had gotten a paternity test. The baby wasn’t his. Sam went over to her house to confront her the night she was leaving and they had gotten in a huge fight. She was going to be leaving town with some deadbeat that had blond hair suspiciously like the baby boy. Sam took a hair he found on the sofa, the baby, and left. The DNA in the hair matched the infant’s profile.

Sam knew he was not legally obligated to care for the infant, but to do so was a great miscarriage of justice. Turning that sweet, perfect baby over to a drug-dipping deadbeat with Aryan facial tattoos and no GED was a textbook recipe for trauma. Sam kept the baby as his own, and it brought his relationship with you to a new place. A closer, more intimate place where you were now a family instead of just a couple.

Then Sam had proposed. You said yes. The wedding was in a few weeks, and you could barely wait.

You snuggle up to your beau, infatuated with him and lovesick. The magnitude of passion you feel toward him and that small helpless baby in the other room overwhelms you sometimes. You’re tired, and part of you just wants to cry with bliss. Sam presses back against you.

He keeps pressing. You’re surprised he’s still awake. Your groin begins to stir as his round little butt keeps brushing against your silk boxers, right over where your cock has nested for the night. You grunt.
“Sam…” you say.
“Mnnng…” he replies, still rubbing. You reach over and down and feel for his cock. It’s hard and jutting straight forward. Not hard to miss. Sam makes a content noise when you play with it.

You’re not quite sure if you are dreaming all of this, but you have to be, because there’s no way you can stay awake. Yet, you find yourself reaching backwards for the nightstand drawer. In the dark, you fumble, and find a condom and lube. You tear it open with your teeth and roll it on; you open the lube one handed and drip it everywhere. You slick up your own cock, then toss the closed lube bottle on the floor.

“Hold still,” you whisper. Sam stills. You put a leg over his hips and position the blunt tip of our cock against him. In one motion, you’re in him, and Sam moans. He hasn’t gotten laid properly in two weeks. You’re in him, and he’s magnificent. Sam undulates against you and you make love to him gently. You kiss his shoulder and reach again for his impressive cock. The pace accelerates from zero to sixty in three seconds. You work your hips quickly; you both tense, and then it’s over. Sam cums into your hand; you fill the condom. It takes a tremendous effort to move again. You wipe your hand on a tissue and rip off the condom. You just leave it open in the trashcan, there’s no energy left in you to tie it.

Sam is asleep again, smiling now. You can tell, his breathing has changed. A feeling of comfort settles over you, of paternal belonging and satisfaction in your roll as a man of the house. You’ve taken care of your offspring. You’ve pleased your man. All is good in your house and domain.

The night is now yours. You cling to Sam, and fall back asleep.

__________________
Text is fictional.

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The beach is supposed to be relaxing. No noises, no distractions. Nothing to do except swim and bask in the sun, which we were doing now after having gorged on a big lunch. We rested next to eachother, sharing my enormous towel, listening to the waves lap at the shore. Sometimes a gull would careen overhead, cawing. Perfect calm. There weren’t even that many children out here on a weekday.

I wasn’t relaxed. I couldn’t stop thinking about how close we were out here on this vast beach with plenty of room. A foot maybe. Less, possibly. I was thinking of the way my sister gave me a suspicious look when I told her I was going to the beach with David. “One of your guy dates huh?”
“What do you mean by that?” I said accusingly.
“You just spend a lot of time with him, that’s all.”
Yeah, that was true. Every time I wanted to go somewhere, David was the first person I called. Or he called me. We were bros. Perhaps not just bros… my time with David had helped me realize something about myself though. I wondered how many people “knew” and was waiting for me to find out about myself. I wondered if David knew or had guessed.

“Hey um. David?” I asked, my voice unsteady.
“Yeah?”
“Can I tell you something personal?”
David turned his head toward me. I could see his deep green eyes staring curiously at me through the brown-pink glass of his sunglasses lenses. “What’s up bro?”
The knot in my stomach was so tight I almost couldn’t find the courage to get the words out. “David I …I’m gay,” I said softly. “I wanted to tell you first.”
David’s jaw fell slack. He kind of stared at me, digesting this, as I held my breath. I could not handle rejection and felt rising anxiety as I waited to find out if I was going lose my best friend.
“You are?” he said after a moment. “You’re gay?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Girls never did it for me. I just had to sit and think about it for a while…it was um. Obvious.”
“Oh,” David said, turning his face up to the sun again. My heart began to ache, and I feared it was about to be broken. I never took my eyes off of him. I watched his chest rise and fall, his breathing a bit rapid.
Minutes passed.

“David?” I said, my voice barely a squeak. “Please say something.”
David exhaled slowly. “Sorry I just…needed to think. You’re gay. Ok that’s… that’s fine. It’s good.”
“That’s good?” I repeated, unsure if there was sand in my ears or something.
“Yeah,” he said with that casual little smile of his. “That’s very good.”

“Ok,” I said, dizzy with relief. “Good.”

A moment later, I felt David’s hand bump against mine. I wasn’t sure was he was doing until he worked his fingers between mine and squeezed. I squeezed back, letting him tether me. I felt like a huge weight had lifted off of me. Without his grip, I might have just floated away.

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Text is fictional. Apparently today is Coming Out Day or something, so I wanted to do something appropriate.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

lookingfortheman:

I’m the kind of guy who still believe that a kiss can fix everything….

There was my pride, and there was him. I could have walked away, using the pieces of my bruised ego to build a wall around me to block logic out. I could have convinced myself I was right. But I wasn’t. And I knew it. Admitting you fucked up, that you over-reacted is one thing. Telling him that is another. Is that what television had taught me, that it’s not masculine to admit you’re wrong? and when a man is wrong, aren’t they supposed to just charm their way out of it?

Caspian would have seen right through that through. He would have not been amused at being brushed off. There are a lot of guys that want to date Caspian… but Caspian likes me. The First Argument in a relationship is the benchmark between celebrating monthly anniversaries and annual ones. If I skirted this, it wouldn’t be long before Caspian brushed me off. I needed to apologize, no matter how much it stung if I wanted to keep my man.

I texted him and said I wanted to meet up. He didn’t respond, and I started to panic. Then, an hour later, “Hey sorry, my phone died. I’m around. Come over.”

I drove over there, nervous. I parked the car and got out. He was waiting on the walk up to the house.
“What’s up?” he asked, casual and cool. I sighed. It would be easier to walk away from this fuck up if I wasn’t so smitten with him.
“I … I….”
Caspian looked at me, hopeful. His gaze still held a bit of pain from the stinging words I threw at him. I leaned forward and dared to kiss him. Caspian didn’t pull back. He just stared at me in surprise.
“What was that for?”
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, “I’m sorry Caspian.” I dropped my gaze to the ground. “I fucked up, I took things out of context, and said some really hurtful things… I was having a bad day and just blew up. I feel really awful, god. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Caspian tilts my chin up his fingers. “Hey… it’s alright.”
“It is?”
“Yes. I’m really happy that you came back. When I told you to ‘get out’, I was pretty terrified that you wouldn’t ever come back. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“No no I totally deserved it.”
“Yelling doesn’t have a place in relationships. You only should yell right before you cum,” Caspian says with a teasing smile.
I melt as the relief flows through me. God, he’s handsome. I put my arms around his neck. “I see. Does this mean we’re still… you know. Together?”
Caspian tilts his head and kisses me back. “I hope so. Mmn. I missed kissing you.”
“You can do it again if you like,” I say eagerly, giddy he’s taken me back. “I owe you anyway.”
Caspian nuzzles me. “Let’s go inside. We got time to make up for.”

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“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.”

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Text is fictional.