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You’re both a decade too old to be fooling around in the woods, discovering each-other. But on this trip to the National Park you’ve made an unexpected friend – a friend like you. A friend who looks at you the same way a woman does.

He’s now bare in front of you with the most beautiful penis you’ve ever seen, curved like an archer’s bow. You’re desperate to touch it, but also scared. Your hands are trembling. The kisses are distracting you enough to prevent you from panicking and running away. His lips are so soft. You put your hands on his shorts. So close. Close enough to feel the heat coming off of him. You want to touch, but you’re just so scared.
He reaches down and brings your hands to his cock. You gasp. He breaks the kiss and looks at you. “Was that wrong?”
“No no it’s…it’s …” You glance down in disbelief that you are actually touching him. You run his shaft along the palm of your hand in an exploratory way. “It’s good. Very good. This is nice.”
He smiles and moves to kiss you again. “Good. Please don’t stop.”
You curl your fingers around his cock. He arches into your hand. The feeling of that makes your head spin. A surge of want courses through you and the chatter and noise of the forest melts away. You push him down to the grass and stroke him with purpose. He moans out in pleasure and wraps his arms around you. Blood pounds in your ears. Yes, yes! This is right.
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Captions are fictional.

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nightnewspecial:

Best way to wake up

Your parents were gonna go stay at their friends house on the lake for the weekend, and you had the place to yourself. Your mom even winked at you on the way out when she said: if you want to have some of your college buddies over, just clean up after yourselves.

Ugh, was she suggesting a literal pity party cause you didn’t have a huge group of friends? Your goal at college wasn’t to party, it was to study and graduate early. Yet your mom seemed to be under the impression you struggled at your social life, probably because all your friends just so happened to be guys. Oh, you realize, she probably thinks you’ll throw a party to hook up with some chick. Ugh. That was worse. Supervising a party of fratbros and sorority sisters and trying to prevent them from destroying your parents’ house was not your idea of a fun weekend.

But you did have an inkling of what could be a fun weekend. You just had to call Joseph. “Hey, my parents are out of town for the weekend. Wanna come fuck over here for once? We can be as loud as we want… and there’s a pool.”
Joseph didn’t need to think twice. “I’ll pack an overnight bag. I was hoping you’d call man. Been needing a fuck, man.”
“Glad to hear that. Missin’ your tight body something fierce. We’ve been studying so hard, this weekend we reward ourselves.”

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Captions are fictional. Let’s see how fast Tumblr nukes this post.

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felixdeon:

This Revolutionary Romance is available as an original drawing in my Etsy Store. Click HERE

Thomas closed the door behind him and hung up his hat. “Mother, I’m home.”
She bustled out into the parlor. “Hello darling. Wonderful timing. I was just about to put on tea. How was your lesson?”
“Wonderful, mother. I seem to have gotten over the difficulty of fingering the flute…I have a new piece to practice too.”
She clapped her hands. “Delightful! I want you to shine in that parade over Christmas.”
“I will mother.”
“Your tutor seems to be doing well with you.”
Thomas took off his boots. “He is mother. This tutor is excellent. I know father spoke poorly of him because his skin is not like ours, but he is a fine musician… he is taught me a lot about how to train my mouth to play the flute using these certain exercises. I don’t tire so much anymore.” He was trying so hard not to smile.
“You will be a professional by spring then?”

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. Not by then. But I hope to keep seeing this tutor through next spring… I can’t become professional without maintaining long lessons.”
“Well, we’ll make sure to budget for this tutor when your pay comes from the military.”
“Yes mother.”
Thomas licked his lips. They were still a bit swollen. He’d had a shot of brandy before he left to clear the taste from his tongue. Thomas wished he could still taste his tutor though. And smell him. He had such a fine cock, in such an unusual dusky hue, and such dark curls…
“Thomas love, come help me with the tea tray.”
Thomas shook his head. He couldn’t be suspicious. If caught, it would be terrible. And of course, their fun would end. Fun that was slowly going to new, daring places. "Coming mother!”

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“That’s it, sweet boy. Fill your nose with the smell. Let it override your senses. Fill your thoughts with it. Imprint it upon your memory. Feel the warm against your hand. Put your thumb right under my shaft, feel that pulse. Do you feel it?”
He nods and exhales a long ragged breath. “I do, I feel it, Sir.”
“That’s where all the blood rushes in when I see you in need. It makes me incredibly hard, makes my cock swell up huge, nice and straight, so I can fuck you. You want me to fuck you?”
“Oh yes Sir! Want your dick, want it in me so bad….smells so good.”
“Do good boys or bad boys get fucked by their keepers?”
“Good boys.”
“And what makes a good boy good?” I guide his hand so it’s ever so gently cupping my balls.
The boy whimpers, resisting the urge to squeeze – or press them against his face through the fabric. “A good boy is an obedient boy. A horny, chaste boy, who follows the rules and makes his keeper proud.”
“Very good, boy,” I say, emphasizing the ‘very’. “And have you been good?”
“I tried very hard to be Sir!”
“And are you chaste and horny?”
“So very horny Sir! My cock aches to be let free, to cum – to have an anal orgasm triggered by your penis inside of me…” he looks down from my eyes to my cock and loses his trail of thought.
I caress the back of his soft head. “Good boy,” I purr. Using the controller in my other hand, I turn on the vibration in his plug. The boy moans in ecstasy and sweet agony.
“Oh SIR!” he cries, leaning against my leg. “Oh Sir, oh god oh god yes!”
I smirk. “Move your hips. Spread your legs. Once you begin to drip, then I’ll fuck you.”
Instantly his knees slide apart and he begins undulating, trying to push that sensation against his prostate. He is making a lot of noise, lidded eyes half closed. “May I suck you?” he asks, ragged.
“You may,” I agree, having to try very hard to make myself wait for his ass. He must drip first.
The boy pushes up my shorts on one side, finds my cock head, and latches his lips around it like a hungry lamb. The sight of him suckling on me while moaning and writhing with his tightly caged red cock on display for me? My body did not know to react to how aroused it made me, and my cock did not even know what to do except grow and ache. I moaned and shot down the boy’s open throat – but my cock did not soften at all. It was saving that load to be deposited in a tight and warm place. My boy had earned that.

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Captions are fictional.

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At Gayday at the local ski resort, a rather opportunistic boy roams the dining hall hoping to find a sugar daddy to pay for his lift pass for the winter.

He’s heard of cash fags before and decided to make things benefit him the other way around.

It normally works. Rich, lonely men can’t resist having a hot body to warm their beds after a long day on the slopes. All the boy has to do is walk in wearing nearly nothing and carrying cocoa and suddenly they don’t mind paying for that lift pass. It’s really not a bad way to spend the winter, being a snow bunny. Now all he has to do is find someone to bless his season to enjoy his presence. Shame his last meal ticket moved to Milan.

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lockedyuusui:

These were taken before I had the base ring enlarged a bit, but the cage fits great. This is flaccid and erect in the cage.

I accepted a glass of cranberry juice with a dash of vodka and settled into the sofa. My beloved, sweet-faced houseboy was already massaging his bare feet. After a long day running around the stock exchange floor, I loved every second of it. After the formatlies of ‘hi-how-was-your-day’ and ‘what-did-you-do’, I moved into the conversation that really interested him.
“So Peche, I saw your Tumblr update on my lunch break.”
Peche momentarily paused, then continued the rub. “I’m really flattered you enjoy reading it so much Sir.”
“well, I think it’s good for a boy to reflect on his life a little. Encourage others to follow the same path.”
“Yes sir.”
“And I know you didn’t mean for it to be funny, but the twin photos of your cock had me laughing for like twenty minutes.”
Peche titled his blond head. “Pardon sir?”
I was trying to supress a chuckle even now. “Here…” I pulled out his phone, opened the Tumblr app, and scrolled. “Here. This. See? Your cock is shown flaccid and hard but -” I let a laugh slip – “It looks the same!”
Peche turned a deep red. “Well it – it doesn’t really-”
“It absolutely does. I have your little cocked locked up so tight it can’t harden at all. It’s all an illusion that it can harden, my pretty boy.”
Peche shifted on the floor, turning his Master’s socks rightside out. “Well – I am happy to please you Sir.”

“Mmm it pleases me very much. When I saw you naked the first time, I thought two things. One was that you took my breath away and that had never happened with a lover before; and the second thing was that you were absolutely born to wear a chastity device. The way your small member was straining so hard to impress – I felt so bad for it! You were so distracted with it, so obsessed with trying to make it bigger, trying to stroke it with your silppery fingers…” I sipped my drink. “It was a situation that begged to be rectified.” I watched Peche’s face. I could tell I was making him horny because the blush was high on his cheek bones. He wasn’t doing anything now but staring at me. I hoped he was imagining either the first time I fucked him, or the first time I fucked him in chastity. Both were equally memorable. The second night lasted much longer though. I sipped again.

“It’s just so much better now. Can you look at me and tell me you don’t like being horny for me all the time?”

Peche kneeled behind the coffee table and thought it over. He looked a bit surprised to be asked that. “well Sir…it’s…new,” he said carefully. “Being horny nearly all the time is strange. It takes discipline to set it aside and focus on other things, but when you take time to express my needs…it all seems to come back at once. It’s incredible the volume of lust I seem to feel, and at times, it feels like it will never end and I’m going insane. Then when it’s over, there’s the relief and the bliss, and I never want it to end. when it fades away, I want it again immediately. It’s almost like a drug. I hate it, but I want it, and …” Peche tilts his head again, in thought. “I realized I could either have a short, pleasurable sex experience and orgasm, or I could delay it and have more time coupling with you.” Peche suddenly looked down, shy. “I like the latter option.”

My jaw fell to my knees. Why had I never asked Peche these questions before? I wanted more personal, sensual responses like this. There was so much that went on in my houseboy’s head that I never knew about. Such a passionate boy. My heart throbbed for him. I swallowed hard. My pants were painfully tight. I set the glass on the coffee table with care because I was afraid I might drop it. “Peche,” I said softly. “Come here.” I patted my lap.
“…Am I going to be spanked?” he asked, timidly.
I choked on my spit and coughed. “Don’t be absurd. Now come here.”
Peched looked confused, but he obeyed, standing up and coming over to me on the sofa. He climbed on and I pulled him into my lap. I lifted his chin and kissed him fully, enjoying the way he tensed and then melted under me. I pressed my lips to his again and again, then I nibbled on his bottom lip and pounced once more. Peche was quickly breathless in my lap. My other hand wrapped around his package. He made ragged, frustrated noises in my ear. My pulse thudded wildly in response.

I dug around in the sofa cushions with my free hand, desperately searching for the bottle of lube I stashed there. I exhaled with relief when I found it.  
“Lift your ass, Peche,” I instructed, touching his hip. He rose over my lap, so I could reach down and free the length of my shaft from its confines. When the tip touched air, I moaned and began to rub lubricant into it. Peche was nuzzling me, kissing me, waiting for the moment when I would enter him.

He made quite a noise of surprise when I threw him down on the afghan spread over the cushions, onto his back. “God Peche you are so beautiful,” I murmured, caressing him from pec to pubic bone, enjoying the way his stomach muscles fluttered under me. Peche was red all over, blushed and a bit fuzzy, just like his namesake. His juices were dripping too. “Perfect.”

I pushed up his leg and positioned my cock. Peche’s toes curled before I even breached him, and if I hadn’t been so focused on this need to be in him, I likely would have laughed at that. His body was tight and put up good resistance, but it was not a match for me. I entered him with one thrust. Peche tensed so hard around me, it was if I was being pulled in with a tractor beam. He whimpered and fisted a pillow. “Sir!” he yelped. “Oh Sir!”
I released a big breath of air I was holding and swallowed hard. “Relax…relax,” I cooed. I didn’t move at first. I just enjoyed the view of this vulnerable houseboy, open and thrumming with sexual energy underneath me. And I had to admit, I was wrong. I could tell he was hard. His cock was dark and leaky. I cupped his balls, which made Peche arch his back and plead for me to move. Not yet. I kissed him on the lips, wishing I was flexible to bend in half and suck on his nipples. I had to settle with tweaking them with my fingers.

Peche suddenly gasped and pre-cum gushed from his chastity cage. His eyes were wet. He looked a bit overwhelmed. It was time. “It’s ok…I’m going to make you feel human again. When we are done here, I will have to tie a string to you or else you’ll float away.” I pulled out, and pushed in – slowly.
Peche’s gaze was glazed, faraway. He wrapped his thin fingers around my wrist. “Julian!” he cried.
“Shh shh…”

I bent over to kiss him again. The sun dipped low in the horizon, filling the room with an autumnal golden glow. I made love to Peche as thoroughly as I could, pushing past my two orgasms into a third, until Peche’s body gave up. Exhausted, I watched rapt, as an orgasm quaked through him from the inside out. He cried. I loved him. By that point, it was dark, and it felt like just the two of us were left in the world.

Peche woke up in the bath. I made him dinner later, and it confused him – even more so when I insisted I feed him. When he protested, I told him to shush. Part of being his Master meant more than just protecting and caring for him, as my houseboy. It meant doting on him and spoiling him once in a while to show him just how special he was to me.

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Text is fictional.

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“Still adjusting boy? I know for so long you held onto some smug sense of superiority about your cock being bigger than mine…but now that I’ve pushed it up and locked it in that tiny thing, I’m bigger. I’m in charge. I hold the leash to your collar, and you will obey me or be punished. Get a good look at it boy – my small cut cock is bigger than yours, and yes, you will be worshiping it soon.”

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Text is fictional.

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neweygn:

I need a houseboy to do my ironing. Don’t we all?

Hamal presses a cup of tea into his hand. “Come upstairs, I gotta finish the ironing.”
Dan nods and follows him, still trying to get used to the fact that his friend is a nudist. They go up the stairs and into the secondary bedroom, everything in pause from when Hamal went downstairs to greet Dan at the door.
“So how’s your brother?” Hamal asks, turning on the iron again.
“He’s doing a lot better, thankfully. Working out in the country has done more for him than any city rehab clinic did. Mom wants to see him for Christmas but we’re not sure bringing him back to Springfield is a good idea, cause it’s where all his drug contacts are. We might have Christmas in the country.”
“That actually sounds better than Springfield.”
Dan chuckles. “Yeah it does. I’m happy for him though. I hated seeing my Dad worry about him.”
“I hope he stays sober too. Are you still working for that accounting firm?”
“Yeah, I am. I am up for a promotion next year. I think I’ll get it, considering the last audit I did for a client turned up a couple hundred thousand in extra money.”
Hamal smiles. “Way to go, Dan! You must be their favorite person in the world right now.”
“Considering the bear hug their CFO gave me, I would say so.”
“You were always good with numbers.”
“Mhm.”

The conversation hit a dead end. The hiss of the iron and the sound of the metal plate swishing over fabric was the only noise in the room.

“What happened to you man?” Dan blurts out, watching Hamal iron.
“Excuse me?” Hamal replies, looking up from working on a shirt sleeve.
“You’re standing there, butt naked, ironing some guy’s workshirts in the middle of a Sunday afternoon like you’re his servant girl. What does he got on you to make you do this?”
Hamal sets the iron down with a bang, making Dan jump. “What does he got on me? William doesn’t have a thing on me. Are you implying he’s blackmailing me into doing his laundry?”
“Well, it’s the only explanation I can think of. You used to get higher grades in class than I did – you were like the top student in our engineer department. You could have been at JPL or Boeing by now, instead of…” Dan gestures. “This. What gives? Everyone wonders what happened to you after graduation.”

Hamal presses his lips together until they were a thin line. “You’re just like my parents. Ever since I was little, it was study study study study. Science camps in the summer, tutors in the fall, flashcards before bed. My father wanted me to be an engineer or a doctor or a lawyer. Those were the only choices they gave me. They sent me to a magnet high school. They never let me take an extracurricular that wasn’t somehow "good for me”. I never even owned my own soccer ball, Dan. You bet that I had very little choice over where to apply for college, or what program I applied to.“
"But you were good at it! You were good at numbers, and at math and science. You can’t blame your parents for trying to nurture that,” Dan counters.
“But no one ever asked me what I wanted!” Hamal nearly yells, pointing at himself. “No one EVER asked me if I wanted to be an engineer! If I wanted to spend my life stuck in a cubicle doing math and science for big faceless corporations. Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I have to have a career in it. I wanted to take home ec and learn how to bake. You know, once I tried to take a quilting class at the local YMCA but when my dad found the papers, he beat me and threatened to kick me out of the house.”
“….What?”
Hamal huffs. “Yeah, I know. It’s stupid. It’s ~gay~ or whatever you deem it to be. But I liked it. I like sewing, I like cooking. You know, fifty, sixty years ago, it was expected of a woman to do these things for her husband. We all just assumed they were all repressed now. My grandmother was a housewife. She loved being a housewife. You know, when we were downsizing her house before she died, we found this album of old photos. She was a tennis whiz. She won all these trophies. Could have easily gone pro. She chose to get pregnant and stay home…. and we all pitied her, you know, because we thought she sacrificed her career after an accidental pregnancy. She always insisted she got pregnant on purpose. When she was 90, and half senile, her home aid would find her in the kitchen at 3 am trying to bake apple tarts for her kids. She just wanted to be a mother and housewife, and no one could understand that.” Hamal continues ironing angrily. “I don’t see why a man can’t want the same thing.”

“….And that’s …what you want?” Dan asks slowly.
“Yes,” Hamal replies firmly. “I find it much more satisfying. I would go insane in a cubicle.”
“I just…” Dan puffs his cheeks and runs his fingers through his hair. “I just had no idea. It’s hard to fathom that what people consider tedious chores, you prefer over anything in the world.”
“But it’s not just chores,” Hamid explains patiently. “It’s because I do them for William. William was the first one who really understood me. I made him cookies once, when we started dating, and he thought it was awesome that I liked to bake. I did his laundry once and the look on his face told me he was thinking of marrying me right then. William loves his job in the DA’s office, and has no time for like, life stuff. He hates chores, cause he grew up in a family of eight. So the fact I anticipate what he needs and do it for him is hugely flattering. Makes him feel like a million dollars. I like that.” Hamal smiles.

“But …I mean…what comes after? I mean, this has to wear off sometime. Are you still going to be a houseboy when you’re 50?” Dan asks. “You’re gonna get bored.”
Hamal moves on to another shirt. “Don’t think I’m so simple, Dan. I tutor low-income kids struggling with math skills. I keep busy. I volunteer at animal shelters. William and are talking about fostering or adopting soon, so I’m dreaming of a house full of kids. Then after? Who knows. I’ll get a part time job until William retires, then we will travel the world together. We already travel a lot. We also go to the ballet, movies-”
Kids? You never mentioned wanting kids.”
“I always wanted kids,” Hamal says, sounding a bit sad. “Just no one ever asked me what I wanted. Being a stay-at-home dad sounds so much fun.”

Dan looks at his old college friend sideways, trying to see the real Hamal instead of the one he thought he knew his entire life. “So you’re…really happy just…ironing? You’re happy being his houseboy? His, um, naked houseboy?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you want?”
“Yes. And I like being naked. It’s comfortable. Plus, William likes it, and when he’s wound up the sex is amazing,” Hamal mutters.
Dan turns red.
Hamal smirks.
Dan sips his ignored tea and watches Hamal iron. “Well if that’s…what you want, then I’ll try and support that.”
Hamal’s face softens. “Thank you. That means so much to me Dan. I know it’s hard to comprehend, but thank you for at least trying. Also, when the kids arrive, I am totally making you babysit.”
“Hey!”
Hamal chuckles. “I’m just about done here, and I gotta get the towels off the line outside. But if you want to stick around…I am baking chocolate chip cookies afterwards.”
“…Chocolate chip cookies?” Dan perks up. “Any chance we could put peanut butter in them?”
“Oh, I think that is definitely doable. William loves peanut butter too.”

William comes home that afternoon and finds two cute boys making cookies in his kitchen. He nibbles one and wonders why on Earth more people didn’t have houseboys. He watches Dan and Hamal lick the beaters clean, and admired how happy they were. It is a relief for William to see that Hamal still has companions outside his own circle. It also makes William a little jealous though, and he smothers down his lust for Hamal in an apron for hours until Dan finally leaves after dinner.

William and Hamal don’t even make it to the stairs before the lust overwhelms them. Hamal still smells like cookies, and William devours him.

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Text is fictional. Long ranting houseboy story, ahoy. Also JPL stands for Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

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cute-overload:

Got in a fight with the neighbor’s dog. Nothing serious but he likes the attention!

I was doing various Tumblr searches involving ‘boys fighting’ and this adorable thing came up. It’s technically cock, so I’m reblogging it. PSA time – keep your cocks out of the when having fights with pups. You don’t want them to get injured now, cause then your mom has to towel it and scold you for letting it get out.

God, this rooster is adorable. It looks so smug.