Tag: historical

by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

letsknightinarmour:

Calipher wipes his sword on a piece of shirt long torn off from another victim of his weapon. “I really need to wash this…” He tucks it away into a pocket and sheaths his sword. He steps over the reeking body of the bandit, striding forward half a dozen steps until he’s in front of Edward. “Well, here we are. Me, saving your arse, and you needing to he rescued.”
“Sorry,” Edward says with a restricted shrug. Only because of the gag, it comes out as “thorry”.
Calipher sighs. “I am have half a mind to tie you to the pack horse like a war captive so I won’t lose you.”
“It may help. Can you untie me please?”
“Hmm. No.”
Edward’s chin jerks up. “No?”
“Actually, I’m going to untie your legs.”
“Why my regs?” he asks.
“You were supposed to fuck me this morning. Did you forget that? You said you were going for a walk to ‘check the perimeter’ of our camp last night and got yourself kidnapped. Took all night and half this morning to bloody find you cause I can’t track worth shit. I haven’t slept cause I was worried about you and now I’m cranky and horny.”
Edward looks at the ground. “Thorry.”
“Next time you decide to try and raid a bandit’s campsite, make sure he’s not nearby first ok Edward?”
He nods sheepishly.
“You stupid, pitiful, handsome man. You must exasperate your mother.” Calipher bends over and removes the gag around his mouth.
“Oh thank god, thank you.” Edward works his jaw. “She often said that when I was a young lad.”
The knight uses his sleeve to dry his companion’s chin and offers him a sip of wine.
“Oh, yes wine. Praise the gods. Thank you.”
“Mhm.” Calipher tosses the wine bladder aside once he’s had a drink. He drops to his knees and begins to untie Edward’s legs. 
“How am I going to fuck you tied to a tree?” Edward asks.
Calipher pulls off his shoes. “With your dick.”
“Well, well yes but-”
He removes the metal greaves from the man’s shins and toss them to the side.
“Hey careful with those, don’t dent them.”
“That’s their whole purpose.”
Edward doesn’t know what to say to that.
The knight has undone the utility belt and leather faulds protecting Edward’s hips and he lets them drop. With a grunt of impatience, Calipher unbuttons his pants.  “Lift your arse.”
Edward digs his heels into his leaf litter and lifts his ass. Calipher pulls them clean off. “Ah it’s chilly out here” Edward remarks.
“Don’t shrink up now.”
“I can’t help it!”
“I have to do everything, really.” Calipher tosses his gloves to the ground. He scoots forward and takes Edward into his hand and pulls on his shaft. It’s soft and stubby, trying to hide, but still warm.
“Oh this is much better than being tortured by a bandit.”
“Mhmm. There we go, getting nicely stiff. Look at you grow, god you always surprise me how you nearly double in size.”
"You are really good at that,” Edward hisses.
“Nice and hard for me now… yeah like that. God you are beautiful all tied up and erect. See, this is sort of how I expected to find you. I hoped I’d find the bandit on the verge of deflowering you and I’d get to have a very dramatic entrance.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
Calipher smiles. “Try harder next time.”
Edward sticks his tongue out. “Hey hey put your hand back – why did you stop?”
Calipher stands up and begins to remove his clothes below the waist. He removes his scabbard from his hip and arrows from his back. When Calipher pulls the waistband down, his cockhead catches on the edge of it, then springs up and makes an audible sound as it smacks against his pelvis. Edward gulps. He instinctively tries to reach for it but the ropes hold him fast to the tree. He whines in frustration. “Curse you seven times!”
“Says the man tied to a tree,” Calipher teases.
Edward whines. “Eight times!”
“That will take you a while. Which pouch has the oil in it?”
“Oh? The left one.”
Calipher digs it out. It’s firm in the cooler temperatures, so he scoops some out and rubs it between this palms to soften it. He lubricates Edward’s cock, working it up and down his shaft. Edward lifts his hips against Calipher’s touches. He sighs. “Bless the gods.”
Calipher decides its enough and wipes his hand on Edward’s pants. Edward doesn’t even notice. He’s fixated on Edward standing up and his cock bouncing right at eye level. He darts out his tongue.
“You want that huh?”
“It’s beading at the tip.”
“Lick it off.”
Edward parts his lips and flicks out his tongue to clean it. Calipher pushes inside of his mouth. “Oh wow.” Edward sucks on the head of it while Calipher rocks against his tongue for a little while. Edward can feel his cock reaching rock hard firmness and it’s making him feel warm and uncomfortable. His own muscles are sore from being in a fixed position tied to this tree and his butt is going numb, but having his nose buried in Calipher’s wild public hair is a fine distraction.
“H-hey keep your tongue out of the slit or I’m going to cum.” Calipher runs his fingers through Edward’s hair. After a horridly short time, Calipher adds: “Ok I have to stop or I’m going to cum.” He withdraws his cock and Edward complains again. “Allow me to finish you at least?” He begs.
Calipher smirks. “You may have that.” He drops to his knees, straddling Edward’s lap, pausing only to position Edward’s cock into place before slowly lowering himself down.
At the breach, a joint cry from both men startles birds from trees. Edward digs his heels into the dirt again and pushes up. Calipher locks eyes with Edward. As he slowly sinks deeper and deeper he thinks how lovely his eyes are, such a warm brown flecked with gold. Edward furrows his brow, wondering what Calipher is thinking. Calipher closes his eyes and tilts his head back. After a painful epoch of time he takes the last inch with a strained keening noise. He rests, sitting on Edward’s lap, breathing purposely in slow deep breaths as he fights the urge to ride this man like a desperate whore instead of taking time to let his body adjust. Edward makes helpless whimpering noises; behind the tree he’s making fists with his hands.

“Are you ok?”
Calipher opens his eyes. They’re dark and shiny, and his cheeks flushed. His raw gaze makes the breath hitch in Edward’s chest. “I’m very ok, Edward. Cause I’ve gotten what was promised to me, and I’m quite pleased about it.”
“What would you have done if I was dead? Haunted my ghost for a fuck?”
“For eternity.”
“How faithful.”
Calipher chuckles.”I’m going to move now. Move with me?”
“I can’t, I’m tied to a tree,” Edward says dryly.
Calipher laughs. “Again I’m doing all the work.”
“Curse you nine times.”
“Oh we’re almost to ten.”
“God you’re as infuriating as you are beautiful.”
Calipher begins to move as if ride on a saddle in slow motion. “You think I’m beautiful?”
Edward blinks. “Yes, you stupid man. When you take your hair down at night and it spills across your cheek over your shoulders….” He shudders.
“Oh you shot a little! God that is erotic, feeling you spill your wetness in me. Curses, I can’t wait any longer. I need the rest of it.” Calipher puts his hands on Edward’s shoulders and rides him as if in full cantor. He ignores his own cock, cause well, he promised. Edward thrusts up the best he can. Their cries mix, growing in volume. Calipher’s thighs begin to quiver and Edward is nearly in tears from frustration at not being able to touch him. It’s a worse punishment then being flogged! “Cal,” he pleads.
Calipher’s muscles quiver as he tenses around Edward’s cock and draws him to the deepest depths of his body.
“Oh sweet heavens!” Edward gasps. He throws his head back and bangs it on the tree. He barely feels the pain; the orgasm goes through him like a bolt of lightening. “Sweeeeet fucking heavens!” he shouts. His balls hitch up and shoots his load after load up Calipher’s perfect arse. He may be tied to this tree but Calipher cannot restrain his seed, and yet as if by some magic trick, he’s still managed to mark that man as his own. “Mine,” he growls.
Calipher’s eyes widen. His face is fully pink and sweat shines on his brow. The spell breaks for Edward and he realizes what he’s said and gone red. What they have was supposed to be a casual relationship of convenience for this journey but… something has irrecoverably changed. A bridge perhaps crossed that cannot be found for the way back. Edward begins to soften. Calipher raises up to let him slide out and his warm seed spills over his cock. Edward gasps. “Ye gods, I gave you everything didn’t I?”
“And more, it feels. It’s running down my thighs in torrents.” Calipher uses Edward’s shoulders again for support and stands up with weak legs. His cock is deep red and straining. Edward seems stunned he’s still hard. Had they not ejaculated together?
“I promised you could finish me off, did I not?”
Edward nods and licks his lips greedily, impressed by the man’s stamina. He parts his dry lips and Calipher thrusts in with unrestrained need. Edward pulls him in, greedy for his scent again, and sucks with all his strength. Calipher thrusts against his tongue with his head tossed back. He explodes with a yell Edward’s heard him use in battle. It’s a struggle to swallow it all and some spills down his chin. He rubs his tongue around the head of Calipher’s cock, making him swoon and reach for the tree to brace himself. “Curse all the gods, Edward! Sweet fucking heavens, your tongue is such a torment.”

Sensing he’s sensitive, Edward relinquishes control and allows Calipher to withdraw. He nuzzles his man at the base of the shaft, and washes his balls with his tongue. Calipher sucks air in through his teeth as the cool breeze alights on wet skin. “What a sensation that is!”
“You like it?”
“Yes it’s – it’s quite something.” Calipher leans against Edward’s face, face in the crook of his arm, catching his breath. “Well – well, that-” he swallows. “Well I can safely say, you have paid your debt to me.”
Edward looks up at him. “I need a receipt.”
Calipher peers down at him through his crooked arm. “Could you even read it or should I just draw some crude pictures on it?”
”I’ll lie and say I’m fully illiterate just for the pictures.”
Calipher chuffs through his nose. ”Oh, I am spent.”
“I feel completely numb, Cal. Both in that lovely tingly way when your body is feeling right proud of itself for certainly having completed a successful breeding despite its sheer ignorance of where that load went, and also because I can’t feel my arms. Can you please untie me?”

Calipher snorts. “Yes.” He pulls the dagger out of his discarded boot, walks around the tree, and cuts his lover free. Edgar groans in relief and stretches his sore arms. “Ah there, now the blood’s returning.to my finger tips. All of it left to go to my cock.”
“Well you did deliver spectacularly.” Calipher also utilizes his dagger to remove some moss from a rock and uses it to clean up the cum streaking down his thighs. He yanks the yellow cloth off Edward’s belt that identifies him as a skilled tracker for hire and uses it to clean the both of them.
“You know, it took me two years to earn that yellow flag.”
Calipher looks at the cloth. “You silly bastard, you could have done it in far less time if you found me a white cloth and let me pee on it.”
“Curse you ten times!” Edward throws a shoe at him while Calipher cackles.
“Hey! Behave or I’ll tie you up again.”
“Behave or I’ll tie you up.”
Calipher raises an eyebrow. “Promise?”
“Well I would if you hadn’t cut the rope…”
“Oh yeah I did do that. Well, hopefully if we make it to town tonight – which we would have, without delays.”
Edward rolls his eyes. “It was a remarkable delay though.”
Calipher folds his arms. “Actually, I will agree with you and concede my point. But if we can make it to town, we could buy rope. We should at least splurge for the bath house and a room in it. I have a feeling we’re both going to want to sleep on a padded mattress tonight.”
Edward groans at the thought. “A real bath.” He makes a noise of fake enlightenment. “Ah, I just realized – we’ll have to see each other naked. I’m not sure I can handle that, you see. I’ll be so embarrassed. I’m just a farm lad who gets so nervous around big strapping knights with big muscles and huge swinging pen – hey you can’t throw my own shoe back at me!”
“I can and I did! At least it wasn’t a greave!”
“Yes that would hurt-” Edward’s stomach interrupts them. “Ye gods, I’ve spent it all. We still have provisions back at camp?”
“We do but – you’re forgetting something.”
“What?” Edward gets to feet with some difficulty.
Calipher points to the dead bandit on the edge of the woods. “We get to raid his campsite now for snacks.”
Edward considers the unwashed man, the black edges to his nails, the dirt caked into his clothes “I am suspicious of his snacks.”
“Maybe we can take his coins to buy better snacks?”
Edward points a finger at Calipher. “See, that, that is why I travel with you.”
Calipher reaches out to pinch Edward’s cock. “No other reason?”
Edward swats his hand away. “Ha! Stopped you. And Nope. None. Zero. No reason at all why I travel with you. Nothing to do with my cock anyhow.”
Calipher throws his woolen sock at him and sticks out his tongue.

Edward sticks his tongue back. He watches Calipher dress and his face softens. “Cal?”
“Yes Edward?”
“Thank you for rescuing me. I had a very dark and lonely night out here, near beside myself at the thought of leaving this Earth without telling you first.”
Calipher glances up at him as he secures his sword belt around his waist. “You’re my tracker. If you left, I’d have to follow you.”

Edward is left so breathless and flustered by this comment, he puts his trousers on backwards and falls over in the process, putting a dent in his greave. “Oh curse you eleven times.”

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

lsleofskye:

There is a history in all men's lives, Nagano Perfecture, Japan | ag.lr.88


There was a noticeable absence of people on the street, and Hatsuo thought his geta sandals sounded much louder than normal. He was returning from sending his father off to sea. The sun was up, but the sky was still grey. The sharp chill in the night air was holding out until late morning now, and it was undeniable that winter was on its way. It had rained over night too. Hatsuo suspected everyone was still in bed, huddled in their warm futons. Once Hatsuo was awake he wanted to be out of bed at once. There were things to do. Fish to catch. A house to run. He’d inherited it from his father.

Hatsuo turned the corner onto a narrower alley and slowed. He planted his feet firmly so the geta echo’ed between the wooden houses huddled over the cobblestones. His ears perked up at the sound of a wooden door sliding.
“Hatsuo-san, ohayo gozaimasu.”
Hatsuo felt his heart speed up. “Ohayo gozaimasu, Ryo.” For such a beautiful man, Ryo was such a mess in the morning. His hair was barely combed, and barely contained in a messy dark knot. Eyelids were still heavy and his slim face had an impression of the fabric on one side.
“It’s chilly this morning. Please come try this tea that’s freshly roasted.” Ryo yawned.
Hatsuo tried not to blush. Ryo had such a sultry voice and it gave him goosebumps. “I’d like tea, thank you.”

Ryo pushed the sliding bamboo door open and Hatsuo went inside. Ryo’s family ran this tea house and he lived in the small apartment on top of it. The rest of his family lived closer to their warehouse down near their port. Hatsuo removed his wooden shoes.

Hatsuo sat at a table of the closed restaurant and waited for Ryo to bring out two cups and the teapot. They sipped bancha together and talked about the winter, about the tea crop this year, about the currents that brought fish, and reports of snow further north already. The tea worked its way down Hatsuo’s limbs, flushing out the cold.

When the pot was empty, Hatsuo set his cup down. “Thank you very much.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Ryo bowed his head but made no motion to clear the table. Instead he looked at Hatsuo and rubbed the back of his neck. They were both listening. Someone was sweeping in the distance. But everyone was staying in bed a little longer today.
“Hatsuo-san?”
“Hm?” Hatsuo replied.
“Do you have a little extra time this morning?”
“I do.” Hatsou tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear.
Ryo looked please. He stood up and held open the curtain that lead to the staircase to the upper apartment. “After you.”
Hatsuo bit his lip to try and his smile. He bowed his head. “Thank you.” He left the restaurant and went up the steep stairs. Ryo’s heavy footsteps were right behind his.

Ryo reached for the sash holding Hatsuo’s yukata robe in place before they were at the top. Once Hatsuo reached the landing, he turned and helped him undo it. The yukata fell to the floor. Ryo cupped Hatsuo’s cheek and kissed warm lips. Ryo made a soft noise of longing. “You’re the only reason to get out of bed this morning….”
Hatsuo wiggled his hands into Ryo’s robe and stole another kiss. “You mean, get back into bed?”
Ryo chuckled. “That’s more accurate to say isn’t it?” He sat on the futon and pulled Hatuso on top of him.
Hatsuo helped Ryo out of his clothes. It was suddenly too warm to wear them.

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Captions are fictional.

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felixdeon:

From the series “Pillow Poems.” Two newly available prints. A sailor’s adventures in Japan, and some adventurous erotic poses. Both are available as prints on Society6 (just click on the link in my profile), or you can see the photos and the uncensured version they were based on in Twitter, at deonsdays 

Small pillow 2

Small pillow 3

Stay on the ship, James…

Don’t go outside the foreigner ward, James…

Don’t bother the locals, James…

Stay out of the red light district, James…

Don’t get a girl pregnant, James…

James, where were you last night? You came home at 3 in the morning! …Lost huh? You smell of sake. You swear you weren’t with a girl last night? Pfft. Tell that to the commander when you show up late for breakfast!

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Captions are fictional.

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The duel was over. Centrus had won. He sheathed his sword and strode up to the slave bound to a pole. Behind him, the healers were tending to his opponent left bleeding in the ring on the floor. Centrus still wondered if not killing that asshole was the right thing to do, considering he’d bribed a judge and robbed Centrus out of what was rightfully his – but at least now people thought he himself was merciful. And a lot of people had been there. Not everyday a warrior challenges another over the ownership of a slave. Usually it’s over a woman of high standing or something. Centrus the Merciful, Challenger of Slaves, had a certain ring to it anyhow.

Centrus paused in front of his new property and lifted the trembling boy’s chin with his thumb. “Don’t panic, little one. You’re safe now, because you are mine. I won’t neuter you, which is illegal anyway. I won’t whip you. I won’t starve you. When I sheath my cock in you, it won’t cause you any pain. Only the sweetest pleasure. You should be happy little one, as you have been spared from cruelty.”
The slave began to weep and Centrus clucked. He ordered the naked boy taken down so he could carry him back to his chariot. It was time to take home his prize and clean him up and see what was under all of that dirt.

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Captions are fictional.

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There’s a photo I keep folded in my wallet. When smartphones
became a thing, I slid it between my phone and the case. It goes everywhere with me, a treasure thing. That print is a copy though, as is the 8 x 10 facsimile on the mantel in my parents’ living room. I
keep the original in a safe deposit box. The negative is long gone, and
if I lost the original cause I’d lost my phone, I’d be devastated.

I first saw the picture when I was 11. We had
been talking about genealogy in school and my parents took out the
albums to show me old family photos. Each of my parents had their own
albums, up until when they met, and then they merged into one. This photo
however, didn’t have its own page. It was in an envelope, with other
miscellaneous photos from college tucked in the back of an album. When I saw it, I
snatched it up from obscurity.

I still remember that when I first
saw it, I felt completely still. When you’re a child on the cusp of
becoming a self-aware individual, you begin to notice more and more how
your parents interactive with each-other. My parents had always been
close. Mushy, even. When I became into a teenager, I rolled my eyes a
lot and made lots of huffing noises about how they were embarrassing me, gawd! Still,
I was mostly giving them a hard time because I refused to let them see
how much that picture had impacted me. I was scared I would never find
someone who loved me like that.

Their lips aren’t even
touching in the shot, maybe an inch away. Their eyes are closed, and
they’re leaning into each-other. Daddy’s hand’s curled around Papa’s shoulder. Papa is pressed up against Daddy. The kiss is inevitable. What I like most about
them is how natural they look, so casual. Nothing is forced, or cheesy,
or over-thought out. They’re not holding hands or gazing into
each-other’s eyes like Disney characters. They’re just…them.

Papa has told me the backstory so many times I have memorized it by heart:

This was taken in 1958. It says so on the back, so it’s right. We’d just finished our sophomore year of university. Eddie
had a good part-time job at the auto repair center, and he’d repaired
this truck that came in with a bad transmission. Since the owner’s son
was back for the summer and could take over Eddie’s work, we decided to
take a summer road-trip before school started again.

First, we drove from upstate New York to Indiana to visit Eddie’s dad’s side of family. From
there, we just drove West, to see Yellowstone, and even though our
butts were sore, we kept going all the way to see the
Redwoods in California. And it was under one of those big trees that your Daddy asked
to marry me, even though it was a ridiculous idea and illegal at the
time. [pause as Papa swallows his emotions] I must have been in
high heaven after that or something, cause I don’t remember anything
until until we made it to the ocean; we camped there for a few days
cause the truck’s oil pan was leaking and there was some problem with
the radiator.

The drive back was really long. We were both so sick of
each-other when we finally got back to New York. [insert a laugh here] We
didn’t see much of each-other over the rest of the summer, cause we
were both working, but we moved in together for our junior year and
after that it was ok again. [pause] My roommate at the time,
Judie, took this photo of us right before we left as a commemorative
shot. I looked her up some time ago. She married a banker and did
alright for herself. When I told her we were still together and had
adopted, she was not surprised one bit. Yeah…those were the days. God, Eddie was so devilishly handsome at that age with all that tussled blond hair wasn’t he? [at this point, Eddie says: ‘What, I’m not still devilishly handsome?” and they laugh]

What’s
also ridiculous is that it now looks like this photo could have been
taken yesterday. It’s hard to believe that the
shot and the people in are now over fifty years old. I never tire
of looking at it though, because like love my parents share, the photo
is timeless.

__________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Tracked the photo to Instagram but no IDs beyond that.

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I walk back into the room and set the tea tray on the table.
“You’re still wearing the corset! And nothing else, you cheeky man, what has gotten into you?”
“It makes me feel sexy,” he explains.
“Haven’t you had any fun with your misbehavior?” I tease, the corner of my mouth lifting.
“Oh yes, indeed,” he grins over his shoulder. “I can still see Mistress Douvet’s face.”
We both began to chuckle.
“I cannot believe you had the sheer audacity to show up at her ball dressed like that. It will be the talk of the entire town tomorrow. I will hear of it in the drawing club, at the grocers, in the hallways of Oxford, how Lord Byron’s son showed up at Mistress Douvet’s fete dressed as her daughter! Scandalous!”
He wiggles his butt. “I made for a dashing woman, did I not? The stockings make my legs look oh so shapely. Plus, it was not entirely for jest. It was for a noble mission was it not? The younger Miss Douvet couldn’t bear the thought of another stuffy ball, and we relieved her so she may have a night out on the town instead.”
“Mmm we can only hope she had a jolly night of debauchery too.”
“Does that mean I get to keep the corset?”
“God I hope so,” I groan. I put a cookie into my mouth and begin to unbutton my vest.
He rolls over. “Well either way, I doubt I’ll ever be invited again, and if that is the only thing I accomplish-”
I moan.
“Why are you moaning, love?”
“I cannot help but fix my gaze on your lovely soft penis between your legs and I want it very much. Did you shave it? It’s so bare and helpless…” I lick the crumbs off my fingers and crawl onto the bed.
“I did excise the hair, because I wanted to feel smooth like a lady.”
“Gods, look at it, just a little tube of flesh protruding from your body…and where is your low pouch? Mmm there is is.” I reach between his legs and wrap my fingers around his cock – just touching it, not squeezing it. I lift and drop his cock several times, obsessed with its flaccid state. I jostle his balls and continue to stroke him. “God you are just so perfect. Look at you, in that untied corset like a strumpet, so shamelessly naked-…. Rolf, were you naked under that dress the entire time?”
He smirks. “Yes. I could not find a proper pair of women’s undergarments to contain myself.”
I bite back a cry and shudder and my undergarments become wet. I dip my head and kiss before, before moving down to take him into my mouth. I suck, and he sighs and arches his back, his thighs pressed against my head.
“I love when you are horny. You care not about the sin of homosexuality, just the mere act of nursing from my cock. You are a wonderful creature, Issac. Oh, keep doing that, Isaac, and I will become so uncomfortably hard!”

I push my lips to the base of his cock, delighting in the lack of hair to get stuck between my teeth. I suck until he’s keening and squirming. His toes curl and he empties into my throat. I ravish him with my tongue and lips until he is spent and twitching.
“Enough Isaac, please!”
I smirk at him and withdraw, licking the shrinking appendage like a kitten as my victim hisses and turns.
“I love your penis,” I say. “It satisfies me like nothing else.”
“I love when you’re randy and you fawn all over me like I am the most precious thing.”
“But you are!” I insist. “Your bravery, your audacity, your frankness, it is so exciting. No one else would even dream of waltzing into that ball dressed as you were! It would have been social and political suicide. For you, it just increases your legendary status as the most daring man in London.”
“Oh come off it, I don’t think I’d go so far.”
“I do think highly of you Rolf, I want you to understand.”
“I do, but it confuses me. I am just a rapscallion with rich parents.”
“But you’re my rapscallion,” I insist, nipping at his thigh with my teeth.
“Oh Isaac, you are going to drive me mad. Take off your breeches already. I’ve bared myself for you, don’t deprive me of the same.”

In the low candle light, I offer him a cookie and a teacup while I undress. He watches, transfixed. When we have both wet our lips, we set our cups down and I lie on top of him. His softness is under mine and I am uncontrollably aroused. Even half hard, I am wet and dripping and I rub my groin against his to mix our scents.
Rolf runs his fingers through my longish hair, dislodging the ribbon, and mussing the rest with his digits. Only then does he capture my mouth and plunder it, our lips dueling and dodging until they’re near numb from the collisions. I undulate on top, as Rolf does under me, and I am blissfully dizzy from our intense frottage. I affix my hands over his pectorals and dig the pads of my fingers into him like claws.

For a moment, there is no forward or backwards, the arousal is so interest and wonderful. I peer into his dark eyes, he gazes into my blue ones; we watch each-other’s flushed faces and wonder how the world could criminalize pleasure so divine. I feel closer to God during a good frot than any second spent in church. I lick my lips as I push my glans against Rolf’s crotch, humping at him like a dog in need. Rolf’s eyes roll back into his head and he spurts against me. My breath hitches and I push against him, rubbing madly as I climax just after him. We’re making a tremendous amount of noise, and I am glad I sent the house servants to bed already.

“Oh Isaac,” he sighs. I rest against him and kiss his jaw.
After a period of recovery, we find ourselves ravenous and consume the rest of the cookies and the ham croissants and the entire carafe of tea. Full, we splay out on the bed and talk and giggle.

My fingers soon find their way to his stockings. I sit up and move down to his feet. I massage his solid soles and long toes and nibble on his big toe through the fabric, making him giggle.
“Rolf?”
“hm?”
“Have you ever done anything…you know, more lustful?”
His eyes sparkle. “What do you mean?”
“Have you ever taken anything up your bottom?”
Rolf gawks at me. “You’ve heard of that too?”
“I heard it from James. He said it’s delightful, that he ejaculates enormous amounts.”
“Well, I must confess. I have played with my fingers after a bath, but I am not sure how to enjoy it without using vegetables.”
“If I can find you a proper wooden stretching dildo, would you let me penetrate you?” I ask, hopeful.
“Isaac, I cannot imagine how sex with you can get any better, but I rather love the image of you taking me like a woman. It would be the ultimate thumb to our puritanical society.”
I grin. “I shall go about procuring such a device first thing tomorrow.”
Rolf groans and lets his knees fall away. “God, to be fucked like a woman! with your fat prick up inside of me.” He runs his hands over his thighs and his cock stirs. “Oh the trouble us men get in to!”
“Are you aroused again?” I gawk.
“Immensely.”

I grin and run my hands over his thighs too. “Why don’t we take a bath and I’ll push my fingers inside of you? Pretend it’s my prick.”
“Isaac, you are going to the death of me. They will find me naked and covered in semen and dead tomorrow morning.”
I smirk. “It’ll be my greatest life accomplishment.”
Rolf gives me a fond look, and I can see it in his pretty eyes – he is in clearly and deeply love with me. I will let no one else have him ever again.

_________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. This is Italian Giulio Berrut in the movie Goltzius and the Pelican Company. This caption is not based upon the movie or intended to be a depiction of its characters or the actors’ personalities or sexualities.

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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.

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livingundersexualthirst:

“Come up!" 

Pierre sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. Then, he heard a click. Then another click. He turned and looked at the window, and saw a pebble bounce off of it.

He jumped up and peered out. Lucas was standing on the sidewalk below. Pierre opened the windows. "Good morning Lucas! Nice to see you, but what are you doing here so early? You have class today don’t you?”
“I do but – I just wanted to see you. I was hoping we could make love before school started?”
“Shhh!” Pierre laughed. “The whole street can hear you.”
“I don’t care,” he said back with a smile. “I’m mad about you. Can’t stop thinking about you. Every curve of your naked body fills my dreams, I see your smile when I blink, and I yearn for the warmth of your skin when you’re not here. I woke up this morning craving you.”
“Awww….Lucas!” Pierre blushed a bright red. “That’s- that’s just so sweet. But, love, people can hear you, sshh.” Some strangers on the sidewalk had stopped to see what was going on.
Lucas didn’t seem to care. “Please allow me to see you this morning? To make love to you so I can pretend we live together and I am greeting you with the sun?”
Pierre couldn’t shake the goofy smile on his face. Even if his entire block was getting an earful of this, he still loved dating a top that was also a romantic. “Oh for goodness sake.”
“Come on down, Pierre.”
“I’m not wearing clothes,” he admitted.
Lucas laughed. “Now who cares what the neighbors think?”
“Well, they’re gonna hear us soon anyway! Come up, my bed is still warm.”
Lucas made a noise of victory and ran up the stairs after Pierre let him in.

Once back in the room, he wasted no time kissing the lad and letting his hands roam over his Pierre’s nude body. He was still warm from sleep, and Lucas wanted in him immediately. Lucas cupped Pierre’s low sac in his hands, massaging and pulling while he kissed his mouth. He manipulated and teased the boy until he’d forgotten all about those people gossiping on the sidewalk.
“Bed, Lucas, please,” he gasped.
Lucas tore off his clothes in a hurry and pulled Pierre back into his own bed. He ignored his own cock, more fascinated Pierre’s own. He parted the boy’s legs and put his tongue to work, lapping at the swollen skin and pulling each testicle in his mouth. Pierre was soon moaning and wrapping his legs around Lucas’s head. He pushed the tip of his cock through Lucas’s lips and thrust his hips forward, desperate for the sensation. Lucas put his hands on Pierre’s thighs and held him still as he suckled, getting him nice and randy while he slid a finger between the cleft of his buttocks.

Lucas parted his lover like a flower opening its petals, sliding two digits into his interior with just enough oil for it to not be too slick. Pierre cooed and swore at the wonderful sensation rippling outward. “Oh Lucas!”
“Shh shh…” Lucas lapped at the fluid beading on the head of Pierre’s little fat cock.
“Enter me,” Pierre pleaded.
“Not yet.” Lucas took his time to enter two more fingers and work them to stretch his lover.
When Pierre warned Lucas he might shoot at any moment, the fingers and lips withdrew. Pierre unbraided his legs and let Lucas pull himself. He dipped his head to kiss Pierre, then lifted his legs and pushed the tip of his cock into his body.
Pierre gasped and clutched the bedsheets.
“Relax sweetheart,” Lucas murmured. Pierre tried, but Lucas was misreading the situation – he wasn’t tensing because it was painful but because it felt so good to be full that he tried to clamp down as hard as he could. A reassuring hand massaging his stomach got Pierre to relax, and Lucas pushed the rest of his cock in. Despite the early morning hour, he was already sweating from the effort. 
“God I needed this, I needed this so badly. You’re the antidote to my insanity, Pierre.”
“Lucas, you will always be a little crazy, but I love you anyway.”
Lucas chuckle and kissed him. “Can I move now?”
Pierre nodded.
Lucas kept his thighs up and watched himself disappear in and out of that perfect lily white ass. “Yes… yes…oh god, Pierre, you feel fantastic. You needed this as much as I did.”
“Be quiet and fuck me,” Pierre demanded, in one of his rare bossy moments.
Lucas felt a growl of possession rise up in him. ‘Yes sir.“ Their lovemaking took an intense turn and Lucas took Pierre as hard as he could, pushing the boy up the bed and into the nest of pillows. Both ignored the open window, allowing their cries to spill out to shocked passerbys. Their fornication seemed to go on for hours, and even the most puritanical pedestrians had to wonder if there was something special about heathen sex.

Lucas demanded Pierre stroke himself, and his eyes darkened as he watched his lover pleasure himself as he stimulated him from inside. "Good boy… you are so beautiful Pierre.”
Pierre blinked at him, his eyes wet. “I’m going to cum!”
“Come with me!”

Their lips met at the same time as they peaked, spilling their cries of passion down eachother’s throats. Lucas dug his toes into the bed and emptied his seed into Pierre’s tight velvet passage. He moaned deeply as the climax came in deep, throbbing waves. Pierre whimpered as the tingly sensation in his balls became a knot in his stomach, then the whole thing turned inside out and suddenly his belly was splattered in cum.

They rested there, locked together, until both of their cocks were soft and spent, but even then Lucas didn’t want to pull out. He wished to stay in Pierre forever, and Pierre felt the same. They were panting hard, flushed and pink.
“Oh Pierre…” Lucas murmured. “Oh my sweet Pierre…god, you just unravel me.”
“You were right Lucas, there are few better ways to greet the day than being thoroughly taken.”’
He snickered. “It does feel good doesn’t it?”
“Mmnn…but you know, I never cared for this type of penetration until you.”
“Really?”
Pierre yawned. “Yes. Something about you…makes me just fly.”
Lucas gave him a fond look. “Oh Pierre, keep talking like that and I will have to marry you.”
He raised his head. “We can’t marry, the church won’t allow it.”
“Oh fuck the church!”
Pierre gasped.
“God created us in his image right? Then God must have put us on this course. If the church won’t recognize love, then that’s their own fault.”
“Lucas, when did you get so bold?”
“When I fell in love with you,” he admitted.
Pierre knew he could be won over with pretty words. He smiled. “Well if you want to marry me, do the proper thing and give me a ring.”
“Can I put it on your cock?” Lucas asked.
Pierre threw his head back and laughed. “Oh you and your ideas!”
“One for your finger and your cock then?”
Pierre playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Can you afford that?”
“I’ll make them out of bread.”

That sent Pierre rolling again. They continued laughing and touching for the next half hour, until grumbling stomachs and their ripen scents caught their attention. A bath and homemade breakfast capped off the morning. Lucas showed up to class exactly one minute late, a very smug look on his face.

__________________
Text is fictional.

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“Quintus,” I sigh. My slave is hopeless. We’re having a heat wave here in Rome and he’s trying to cool down by dumping an amphora full of water over his body. The thin muslin clings to every curve and becomes fully transparent. He looks down at himself and seems to just realize this. He looks up at me and gives me a sheepish look, “I didn’t think it’d be so transparent, Sir…”
I let my eyes linger on his long, dark cock. His nickname is Horse for a reason. It’s brutally hot here but all I want to is to take him to bed and ravish his body as he cries out and grabs the pillow. I walk up to him and hold it in my hand, shocked at how hot it is even with all that water on him.

“Come join me in the gardens… it’s cooler there under the trees. I’ll have some servants bring some figs and chilled wine. All this heat is built up in your lovely, vulgar penis boy…you’re going to damage your beautiful sperm. As your Master it is my job to care of you and make sure you’re in optimal health. Now come.”
“Yes sir,” he purrs, setting down the amphora. Quintus tries to tug down his blouse and realizes it’s pointless and gives up, letting himself hang out. My slaves are nearly nude in loinclothes all the time anyway, but he is still so shy. I can sense him burning in embarrassment as everyone eyes us jealously as we walk to the gardens with my arm around his wet waist. I make sure they all see the brand on his ass as we stroll past…he is mine, and will always be mine.

_____________________________
Text is fictional, source is below:

gonakedmagazine:

GoNaked Magazine – the digital magazine for male nudists! Over 50K+ readers worldwide. Real nudists, real men, Reviews, Interviews, Photos, Travel, Reader Gallery and much more. Download/buy an issue? http://goo.gl/zSg1VC . Free, donation or bitcoin accepted Get on our mailing list while you’re there – pink button in the upper right corner.

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A childhood of being spoiled rotten rendered the Prince unable to do anything for himself. I had been brought in as a tutor of literature, but the Prince took a liking to me and soon he was demanding I accompany him everywhere as an escort and friend: “Zaheed, come with me to pick berries.” “Zaheed, come with me to the theater.” “Zaheed, come wash my back.” “Zaheed I can’t find my other sandal.” “Zaheed I need help organizing the books.”
Despite his helplessness, he was polite and grateful and I began to suspect he was doing it a little on purpose just so we’d be alone together. His parents were …how do I say… smothering, and there was always a maid or servant at his side. All the adults in his life had been women thus far, and I think he was curious about me.

One blistering summer evening, I was half sleeping naked half sweating to death in my room when I heard a soft knocking on the door. “Zaheed?”
I knew his voice. “Come in.” I lit the bedside lamp.
The Prince came to my bedside completely naked, clutching his favorite blankie. I had seem him naked, but never hard. The entire tip of his cock was glistening. It was hard to tear my eyes away from it. “Are you alright, my Prince?”
“I can’t sleep,” he pouted, “It’s too hot, and then when I did sleep I woke up because I felt funny and the sheets feel uncomfortable.”
I stared at him, searching his eyes for some sign he was playing with me. “…My Prince, love, didn’t your physicians teach you about masturbation?”
He stared at him. “What’s that?”
I put my hand down on the edge of the bed to hold myself up from the shock, missed, and flailed to keep myself from ending up on the floor. I coughed and arranged myself, piling the sheets over my nude crotch to hide my involuntary reaction. “Well. It’s uh. Do you ever wake up to find the sheets wet? or your clothing? and it’s not urine?”
His deep chocolate eyes went wide. “That’s what masturbation is?”

Oh Allah help me. “No, no…that’s night emissions. If you don’t relieve the build up of fluid in your testicles, your body does it for you. You can do it yourself, it’s called masturbation. It feels good.” I might as well have been speaking in tongues, he wasn’t comprehending this at all. 
“Zaheed, can you teach me? I’m tired.”
I exhaled slowly. “Alright, come here, love.”

I pushed the sheets aside so he could sit between my legs. The Prince took an interest in my cock, and without even asking reached out to touch as if it was sharp. I pushed his hand away, “It’s not nice to touch people there without asking. Now come on, sit here, back to me.” I removed his fez and set it on the nightstand. When he settled, I ran my palms over his shoulders and the sweat-slick bumps of his vertabrae. He was smaller than I, but the muscles over his scapulas bulged from sword training. There was no hair on his back, but it was plentiful below his waist.

“That’s it, just get comfortable…can I call you by another name or must I say Prince in such an intimate setting?”
He exhaled under my caresses, “You may call me Saïd.”
“That’s a nice name, Saïd.” I reached around and ran my hands over his thighs. “Now, Saïd, take your hand and wrap it around your cock.” He seemed perplexed so I guided his hand and wrapped his fingers around his member. I felt his breath hitch. “Now stroke.” Most will never have the the privilege of watching a man discover himself for the first time. First, hesitancy and unsureness, then they discover how nice it feels, set a rhythm and build a speed until the inevitable climax. Saïd was beautiful as he masturbated himself, a bright sheen on his skin, the only sound in the room was his ragged breathing. “Oh Zaheed it does feel good…”

“Don’t go too fast,” I cautioned, “Cup your balls a little… roll the tip of your cockhead in your fingers.” I watched over his shoulder as Saïd explored himself, discovering what made a moan and a gasp and what caused twitches of discomfort. Pre-cum started to drip and he played with it too, fascinated by the viscosity of it. My own erection was pressing into the base of his spine.

The Prince’s balls were hitching high in their sac now, so I knew he was close… and then Saïd stopped. “Zaheed?”
“Yes…?”
“My hands are cramping …can you finish me?”
“….Of course, my Prince.”
He leaned back against me as I found his cock with my hands. His skin was searing hot and soaking wet. I rolled his balls in my palms and found them taunt and full. I massaged the tip with my thumb and forefinger while my land stroked his shaft. “Oh Zaheed…Zaheed!” Saïd contracted his legs and curled his toes, thrashing in my lap as I teased him to orgasm. He thrust into my hands, shouting in rapture as it over came him. Saïd’s pearly cum coated my hand, his thighs, and splattered over my sheets. He just came and came and came, an endless torent. I squeezed his balls and the final amount dribbled out onto the bed.

Saïd collapsed onto me, sucking in huge lung fulls of air. I wiped my hand on the soiled sheets and gave him some water to drink. “Oh Zaheed…that was amazing…” he panted. “I wanna do it again.”
I laughed, “Prince, my love.. it’s 3 am and you’re all sensitive now. You need to go back to your room and sleep.”
“I sleep here,” he murmured, rolling halfway over and nuzzling my shoulder.
“But the mess…! You’re all sticky, the sheets, my cock-”
“Your cock?” he blinked at me.
“Yes, I need to relieve mine too.”
In the dim light, I could see Saïd’s lids were heavy with fatigue. “Ok Zaheed, you do, I want to watch.”

So there I was in the middle of the night, masturbating with the Prince curled up at my side with his cum still all over everything. Life is surreal. No one back at the University of London would believe this. It only took a few tugs before I came too, not nearly as voluminous but still a decent amount of seed. Saïd was almost completely dead. Right before he slipped away, he reached out an elegant finger, swiped my seed, and tasted it. My jaw dropped. “Saïd….”
“It tastes nice.”

I groaned.

When I woke up the next morning, the Prince was still in my bed and drawing circles around my nipples. “Good morning.”
“Good morning-”
“Zaheed, masturbate me again?”

…Oh Allah, what have I done? I’ve created a monster.