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flashdoggy:

domgayhusbands:

Never forget who your King is- the Head of the Household, the Man in the relationship, your Protector, your Owner… your Husband.

But…..where’s the dog?

The pup is out of frame, curled up next to its Masters’ bed on its own cushion, half in a doze. The yard was purged of squirrels this morning, and so he needs to refill his energy to play later and beg for scraps while the Masters make lunch.

Tomorrow the pup has to go upon the silly business of putting on clothes and pretending to be a human at this boring place called an office. But now? Now things were good. Lazy Sundays were always good.

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Captions are fictional.

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Alastair tugs on my sleeve. I tear my gaze away from the dancing revelers to look at him. He jerks his head slightly – as much as one tends to do when they have horns jutting out of their head that can injure someone. I raise an eyebrow and follow him away from the bonfires, the howlers, the witches trying to teach the drunk vampires their social dances. Alastair takes me over to the wooden tables where had our November Feast to celebrate another successful Halloween. All of the scraps had been cleaned up by the little dragons long time now. We are alone here, the woods to our back. The light from two full moons above us lit Alastair in a silvery glow. Small fairies left lazy trails of lights as they weaved in and out of the branches. Oh so romantic.

“So…” I begin, leaning on the counter, thrilled to be alone with him – finally.
Alastair looks at me and smiles. “I don’t know if you can tell, but ever since you got those tattoos with your latest evolution, you just look so unbelievably stunning that I keep staring at you?”
I blush. Only Alastair makes me show my emotion so easily. “I noticed a little,” I admit. “I don’t look weird?” I ask, holding out my arms.
“No, I love your hands black,” Alastair murmurs, taking my hand and kissing the back of it. His charcoal hair falls in a curtain around his face, tickling my wrist and arm. “Honestly, when I look at you, I am mostly just stumped that you stuck around to love someone like me.”
I scoff. “Don’t give me that nonsense.”
“No, I’m serious.” Alastair insists. “I hadn’t realized that I was putting on the personality people expected from me. They all know me, who my dad is, who we are, and they want me to live up to that expectation. You just stuck around for three years, loving me hard enough to teach me that I could be the demon I really wanted. I am so very lucky to have your affection.”
“Aww Alastair,” I sigh, pressing my hands over my robes, over my heart. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I open my mouth to say more but he put a hand up.
“At least let me say I love you,” I insist.
His face softens. “I will never tire of hearing that.”
Seeing him let his sarcastic, cocky guard down is such a rare thing that it makes my heart swell. “Alastair…”
“I uh,” he pats the pockets of his long coat nervously, the metal decorations jingling. “I just -um, don’t think I really show you enough that I care.” He takes something out of his pocket and thrusts it out to me with both hands. “I want you to have this.”
My hands fly to my mouth as I gasp. “Alastair, I can’t take that!”
Alastair looks at the jar holding the sliver of moon, shakes his head, and sets it on a wooden table. “Taking or not, that’s not the right word. It’s yours, Saphrael. You were coveting the prize since the Counsil announced it yesterday. Looking at it all love’sick. Honestly, you should have won it. You found that stray soul I could not. I wouldn’t have found it before the barrier closed for another year. I know you didn’t say anything to avoid embarrassing me, but you should have won it. Plus, it would make me happy knowing it was cherished.”
My chest hitches and I gently pick up the bottle with both hands, the pointed tips of my nails clinking against the glass. In it, the sliver of moon sparkled and shone. I sigh deeply. It’s truly beautiful. Rare as a meteor. As long as I kept it in the sun, it would never lose its glow. A symbol of love if there ever was once. I tuck it in my robe pocket over my heart and brush tears out of my eyes with my sleeve. “Thank you Alastair.”
“You are welcome.” He sighs in relief and wraps his arms around me. I lift my wings so he could get around my back. I press myself up against him, enjoying the sensation of the hard glass between us. Alastair, all six and a half feet of him, feels like a strong tree against me. He kisses the top of my head. “There is something else too…”
I nuzzle his collarbone, enjoying the faint smokey scent clinging to him. “Hm? What is it?”
He begins to pet my wing distractedly. “I think I finally have the courage to ask my father if he would approve me mating with you. But I have to ask you first, duh.”
I pull back from him and stare at him with giant eyes. “Alastair Mephistopheles, are you spinning elven yarns?” The sight of him nervous and stammering and flushed at the base of his horns makes my knees weak.
“No, I’m not – I, I – I want you,” he whimpers. “I want you to rule next to me, and to give you eggs that you always wanted and-”
I can’t help it. I throw my arms around him and press my lips against his hard, trying to burn my love into him like a brand. Tears stream down my face. “Yes, Alastair, a thousand seas, yes!”
He coughs out a laugh of relief and releases the air he was holding in his chest. “Holy hell, I thought I was going to faint asking you that!”
“I’m – I’m in shock you did!” I squeak.
Alastair pushes his hair over the side of his head, making it go everywhere. "It wasn’t until I actually said it out loud did I actually convince myself I did the right thing. I don’t know why I find it so easy to lead in the bedroom, but I am so scared of fucking up our relationship.”
I kiss him again. “Oh don’t you worry. You are doing everything right.”
“Oh, that’s good,” he chuckles. “Cause I still might faint.” He quickly brushes tears away from his eyes. “Now just to just tell my dad…”
I take his hand. “We’ll do it together.”
Alastair looks relieved. “Thank god.”

A deep howl punctuates the air. Dawn is an hour away. “I think you have to go officiate the closing ceremonies soon,” I note.
Alastair sighs. “I don’t want to officiate again this year. Why do they always make me do it?”
“Cause you look super hot up there orating and making fire come out of your hands?”
Alastair gives me a look. “You are biased. Any demon chick or baby orc can do that.”
“I’m sitll right,” I insist.
He chuckles. “So biased. What I really want to be doing is to take you to my chambers, make you that tea you like, and make love to you from dawn to dusk.”
I raise my wings a little in interest; goosebumps break out everywhere. “I would like that. Especially since I’m wearing that pretty bit of metal you got for my birthday this year…”
That gets his attention. “What? You are? Like right now? You’ve been wearing the ring this entire time?”
“Yes,” I say non-chalantly.
“You mean while you were collecting?”
The corner of my mouth lifts and I shrug. “Being a bit aroused makes my senses heightened. My powers weaken a little when I cross the barrier. It keeps me strong.”

Alastair’s eyes glow like embers. “Fuck, that is just unbelievably sexy.” His hand gathers my robe at my thigh and pushes it up so he can slide it under. “I think they can wait a little longer.” Alastair dips his head and begins to kiss my neck as he grabs my ass and pulls me against him. I put a hand on his horn and thrust back against him. “Y-yeah,” I stammer as the bottle presses into my ribs. “They will have to wait. Dawn’s a while out yet. “Mmm goodness you are hard in your breaches.” The scent of burning cedar fills the air, which by now, gets me randy automatically. I’m pretty sure what we are about to do will be brief. Alastair will want to take his time with me later, and I am fine with that. I don’t want to wait to celebrate becoming his!

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Captions are fictional. Oh yes, m-preg, I went there.

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leprinceofsins:

Magic Wood barebacks Draven Torres at RawStrokes.com (xox)

Later, after we were snuggling in post-coital bliss, he said: “I’m jealous.”
I tilt my head up and met his dark eyes. “Of what?”
“Other men…the men you had before me. The one night stands in college, the bar hook-ups, the party sex orgies, your boyfriends…so jealous that they got you before I did.”
I smile, crinkling the corners of my eyes. “You love being in me that much?”
“Fuck, you’re perfect. Tight, warm, like velvet, “ Marcus groans and handles his soft cock, as if checking to make sure he can’t squeeze another orgasm out of it. No luck – his balls are empty. “Shit, I can’t even put it into words. The way you smell, the noises you make, the way your beard brushing my face, the texture of your lips…Jesus,” Marcus sighs. “It’s like dying and going to heaven every time. I can’t get enough of you.”
I blush hard and put an arm around him. “Well you don’t have to be jealous.”
“How could I not be, baby?”
I smirk. “You think they all got sex like that?”
He lifts his head up. “What do you mean, baby?”
“You forgot, that before we met I was a slut. A raging, bottom slut. I didn’t care about the fuck as long as someone was on top of me, and made me cum. No one got to make love to me. No one. Especially no one that I wasn’t gonna see again. I thought it was trite. And yeah, I’ve had a few boyfriends. Boytoys, really, but they never turned into lovers, because I wasn’t ready to settle.”
“That means…” Marcus begins.
“I’m an old slut, love. There’s a 3 in front of my age, love. What’s fun becomes exhausting, the hangovers start to last a lot longer, the morning partings become more painful. The loneliness starts to sink in… as does the depression. And then I met you. And it was like I was starting over, and being in love for the first time.”

He blinks at me. “Honey I never knew this about you, how you felt about me.”
I pat his cheek. “You’re getting this old slut to let down his guard. Good for you.”
“You’re not old, and you’re not a slut. Well, you’re slutty, but not a slut. You’re mine,“ Marcus insists. “I like hearing that you want to settle with me, though. I like you. A lot.”
“Me too.”
We kiss.
“So…” Marcus begins. “With me, we’re making love?”
“Every damn time.”
He grins. “How did you know you were ready to share that with me? Cause when we first met, it wasn’t like this.”
“You were right. When we met, we just fucked. But then…then you started putting your hand over my cock when we had sex.”
“….I do?” He blinks.
I giggle. “Yeah you do it every time. You get me spread wide and open, make me impale myself on you, and before I can get anywhere near my needy little erection, you put your hand over it and my balls. Mine, you say. You don’t want me to touch. You don’t want me to focus on any other pleasure except the kind you’re giving me. And at first, it pissed me off, but then we had that night when we got back from the ballet remember?”
“Uh huh,” he replies, mesmerized by the words coming out of my mouth.
“And it was just…so wonderful. So intense. So slow, so passionate. And you did that, and it just felt right. I felt like I belonged to you, I wanted to give myself to you. So, I thought, why not? Why not see where this goes?” I kiss his chin. “It’s been a very rewarding experience. The sex is on another level.”

Marcus works his jaw. I wonder if he knows his eyes look a little wet. “Baby,” he manages. “I had no idea. I am so, so…flattered that you picked me, and let me pleasure you. When I met you, and started dating you, I thought – this guy is really special, but I don’t think he’s going to stick around long enough for me to show him how special he is. So every day to me, it’s like waking up in a dream.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I sigh, content. “Being in love is amazing. Getting fucked by you is amazing. Coming hands-free is amazing. Spending time with you is amazing. But it’s the sum of the parts that make me get up in the morning.”

Marcus wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck. “I love you so much, baby.”
“I love you too, Marcus. …Hey, what’s that poking me in my thigh?”
“Huh?” he glances down. “Well, shit, look at that. I don’t think there’s anything left in the arsenal though.”
I wrap my fingers around it. “Why don’t we find out?”

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Text is fictional. Source is below. Black gay porn actors have the best aliases. Magic Wood and Draven Torres are with Lucas Entertainment.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

He came by to help you close up the store. Your sister runs the place, selling very nice bath products and tattoo care, soap and candles. She wanted a night off, so you worked her shift. By closing time, the place was dead, so you invited your boyfriend to keep you company.

Recently, you can’t seem to get enough of him. You’re still not really sure what happened, because he was a friend for the longest time and you were pretty goddamn sure he was straight. Apparently he’s just got the best gaydar cloaking technology in existence because you found his stash of your stolen undershirts and underwear when over at his place. You just had to take one look at this miserable face and incredibly hot body, and you know you were going to give him what he wanted instead of leaving him. Heck, you wanted him since day one but thought you were being the good gay friend by keeping your hands off. Now that the barrier had been broken, the mattress was not going to get a break.

Now, you could hardly go anywhere or do anything without thinking of him. And since you were alone and bored, of course you called him, and of course he came over with the promise of dinner after. But first – you were going to eat him. You locked the doors and shoved him against the wall. You were aware your sister probably had a security camera in place here, but dammit you could not resist him.

His taste, the fullness of his lips, the way his hard muscles trembled under your roaming fingertips. The boy liked to be kissed and you were happy to indulge him. You were slowly realizing that his alpha straight boy act was a cover too. You were always the one that pushed him back and lifted up his shirt, waiting for him to spar with you, but he just melted and let you take control. Surrendering to you came naturally to him. You rewarded him for his piety by tonguing his nipples while massaging his erection through his pants. He lifted his hips and moaned out your name, making your own cock ache.

There were glass windows on the storefront and you didn’t want anyone to call the cops, so you took him to the back room where there was a nice packing table waiting for use. You bent him over and got his pants down. That herbal spice body oil your sister created made for some damn great lube. It occurred to you that she should probably start selling it as such. You teased his hole with your slick fingers until he was pounding the table, begging for you to fuck him, but you waited until his cock was a tight, straining mess in your hands on the brink of spurting before you dove into him.

Your hands left oily marks on his hips as you set a relentless place, fucking him hard and sweet. You pressed kisses down his shoulder and licked the shell of his ear to make him insane.

The orgasm came far too quickly, and you wished you had a plug to hold in all the mess. You settled for cleaning him with warm, damp paper towels and kissing him until he was unmistakeably ravished. If it wasn’t for your grumbling stomachs, then you were sure you were going never going to stop making out with him. You reminded yourself to be careful and not go too fast, not taken advantage of him, because this boy just might be the love of your life and you had to remember he was a person and not just a vessel for sex, even if he wanted to be thought of that way. He had an amazing sex drive.

And taking care of your man meant feeding him after fucking him.
“Come on love, let’s get you some protein before we get carried away again. I much rather make love to you on a soft bed than a wooden table.”
And he gives you this heart-melting smile and slinks an arm around your waist. “Late night tonkatsu ramen?”
You groan. “Sounds fucking delicious.”
He kisses your cheek. “Not as delicious as you.”

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Text is fictional.

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“What are you thinking, Jessup? You’re always so quiet.”
“Cause I’m listening.”
“What are you listening to? The shower?”
“You. Your breathing. The way the water splashes off your skin, the sound of the loofah as you wash me..”
“Are you enjoying it?” I ask.
“Mmm very much. It’s so hard to find a lover, with me as I am, and I’m sort of wondering if I”m dreaming sometimes, having such a great guy like you in my life. In my shower.”
I chuff through my nose. “You shouldn’t put yourself down in that way. I look for a few things in my partner, and the biggest one is personality.”
Jessup grins. “Are you sure the biggest isn’t the cock?”
“I thought that was why you liked me?” I pretend to be offended.
Jessup laughs.

“Hey…Jason.”
“Hm?” I inquire.
“…Would you do something for me?” Jessup asks, putting the loofah back on the hook.
“Anything.”
“Take control.”
“…Are you sure? But you hate being caught off guard.”
“Jason please,” he begs. “Everyone is so delicate with me because I’m nearly blind. I’ve retorted by being as picky as possible. I’ve never given control to anyone. I want to know what it’s like. Be rough with me. Ravish me.”
“Christ, it’s turning me on hearing you beg.”
“Do it,” he growls.
I take a step back and examine my Jessup. He loves to work out, and it’s carved these delicious lines and rolling waves of muscle into the canvas that is his body. A strong illiac crest slides downward to the impressive, veiny cock jutting out. It’s a shame he can’t see his package because the set is damn gorgeous. And it is mine for the taking.
“….Jason?” he says quietly.
I push him back against the wall. Jessup gasps in surprise as he is jostled, then again as his back hits the cold wet tile. Before he can get out the second half of “more”, I’ve pounced on him, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. Our lips meet and duel, and then I slip my tongue. Jessup’s hands seek my body and I press my palms into his torso, helping myself to a handful of his pecs. How can they so firm, yet so soft? I suddenly get why straight guys like tits.
I pin his arm against the wall, and when I move his limbs as I like, Jessup giggles; he’s giddy. His hand finds my waist and he pulls me against him. Our half-hard cocks meet and Jessup arches up. I can feel a moan thrumming in his throat as I kiss him, relentlessly.
“Fuck yeah, more, Jessup more!” he asks, breathy and hopeful.
Our lips meet again and again. I pin him in place with my hips and my grip. We rock together until our cocks are stiff as wood and sharing heat by sliding against each-other. The warm water slides down my back and gurgles down the drain.

I reach back with my free hand that’s not pinning his arm back and seek his ass. I squeeze it hard enough to make him shout.
“This is turning you on,” I purr.
“More Jason!”
“I do think you have a date with my bag of ropes later…”
He shudders and pre-cum dribbles down his shaft. I swipe it with my finger and taste it, then reach behind Jessup again and stroke his hole which I just cleaned.
Jessup whimpers and clings to me. “Jesus, Jason, no one’s ever made me feel like this.”
“I’m happy you thrust me.”
“…Did you just say ‘thrust’ instead of trust?”
Jessup quiets and stills, then his body vibrates with laughter. It’s contaigous and soon we’re bent over in hysterics.

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Sex TBC. Text is fictional. I actually wrote “thrust me” instead of trust me and just went with it. These hotties are from Sean Cody, naturally.

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“Look what I made,” Avery said again, bursting with pride. “I made these.”
“They’re beautiful. Made with love,” Graham confirmed, wrapping his arms around his partner.
“They are.” Avery took deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh-baked pies. “You think they’re beautiful? They’re kinda messy. The filling spilled out everywhere.”
Graham nuzzled their noses together and placed a chaste kiss to Avery’s lips. “I think they will still taste delicious.”
“The batter was plenty good.”
Graham chuffed through his nose. “That it was.”

Avery set the tray down on the counter, unable to tear his eyes off the final product. He made these! He couldn’t remember the last time felt pride in his work. “I made these,” he said again. “I can bake. I’m going to be a good houseboy.”
“Yes. See, it’s not so hard. You just follow the instructions, take your time, make sure you have good ingredients.”
Avery tucked his chin; his gaze drifted to the floor. “It sounds simple. Dan used to tell me I screwed up every. single. time. The recipes were confusing, the ingredients cheap. He liked to pinch pennies. He would eat one, then throw it into the sink, then make me bend over and he’d cane me.”

Graham embraced Avery even tighter, hoping a reassuring hug from behind would chase away bad memories. He was there at Avery’s physical, so they’d have evidence to process a case of abuse against Dan. Some of those cane stripes were now scars. Avery’s beautiful butt had been faintly marked forever. Graham hated that. It made him mad as hell, but Graham told himself if he thought of Dan, Dan would win. He had to let Avery’s past go if he was to have a future with Avery. Still, it was going to be difficult.

“Graham?” Avery asked softly. “You’re breathing hard. Are you ok? Did – did I do something?”
Graham opened his eyes. “No. Not at all. I was just …stewing. I am still mad at myself for letting you go the first time, when you were cleaning for me part time. I was so stupid, letting you go because I was scared how fast I was falling for you. And Dan happened. You shouldn’t have been punished for me.”
Avery half-turned so he could look at Graham over his shoulder. “Is that what you think happened?”
Graham nodded miserably.
“No,” the slimmer man insisted, his voice firm. “Absence makes the heart fonder. It was only because I moved out that you were able to see clearly how much you love me.”
“I do,” Graham groaned.
“You were able to see what you really wanted. You chased after me so hard to get me back. What happened with Dan was just an ugly fact of life. You were there for me after, and that’s what I wanted. You have atoned.”
"Wow,” Graham breathed.
Avery glanced again at the pretty little pies. “Can I put these on the cooling rack now?” he asked, excited.
“Yes. Go on. Use the spatula. Gentle now.” Graham watched Avery work, and he began to rock him. “I can’t believe you still let me love you.”

“I am really happy you love me. I just want to be a good houseboy. You sent me away. Dan hurt me. I felt like such a failure. I am on cloud nine that you gave me a second chance and are teaching me how to be a great houseboy.” Avery swallowed hard and sniffled.
“Aww, there, there. It’s ok.” Graham kissed his neck and his ear-lobe. “You’re safe now, and you’re mine.”
“I love you Graham.”
“I love you more Avery.”

Avery slid off the oven-mitts, then turned around into Graham’s embrace. They kissed passionately, Avery losing himself in the soft yet firm texture of Graham’s lips. He tasted a bit like blueberries, from when they had licked the falling off each-other’s fingers earlier. After a long tender moment, the kisses trailed off to little nips here and there. They both had to catch their breath. Avery felt something hard poking against his hip.
“I had no idea baking could be so …so sexy,” Avery gasped.
“Is it really the baking?” Graham joked.“
"Well…” Avery puckered his lips in thought. “I think it’s the idea that I’m doing something for my man that he likes. It’s sexy to know he likes me doing it for him. Can happiness be sexy?”
“Oh absolutely,” Graham replied instantly. “I am turned on right now by the sign of your butt in your apron, yes, but I think more than that, it’s how much you are glowing with pride at your accomplishment.”
“I made those,” Avery repeated, gesturing to the pies. “…Wait, what if they don’t taste good?”

Graham traced Avery’s lower lip with his thumb. “There, there, don’t fret. How about we have a nice afternoon tea session? Baked goods, tea, the nice china. I um, bought that tea you like. Remember – the floral kind from France?”
The young man gasped. “You remembered that?”
“Of course! I hadn’t found anyone else that likes that stuff. I bought a big ol’ thing of it.”

Avery bounced on this toes. “Can you um, watch me to make sure I make the tea properly? I don’t want to burn it. I don’t know which forks to use at tea either…”
Graham smiled. “Of course. I will teach you everything you will need to know to be the perfect houseboy.”
”Your perfect houseboy.”
”My perfect houseboy. Mmnn not just that. My Avery.”
Avery felt a lump in his throat form. “Oh, Graham~ I could listen to you say that forever.”
“You better get used to it, love, because I plan to.”

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Text is fictional. The source is an utterly fantastic blog called Piefolk, in where gay guys get together on “SunDATES” and bake. The relevant post is here. This post isn’t intended to assume their personalities. The guys in the photo I think had an intimate moment, but it didn’t work out as boyfriends, according to the blogpost. The photography was done by Tri Vo Studios.

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obedienceisgolden:

I try to be Daddy’s sexy little wife as much as I can. Making him happy and horny is what I live for.

I hear his soft footfalls as he enters the kitchen. “Hello Jackson,” I say, busy prepping supper.
“God, I could listen to you say my name forever,” he admits. “I love your accent.”
“Jack-son?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” he exhales, like that “You’re cooking nude again. In that pristine white apron…” Jackson presses himself up behind me and his palm slides over my ass. “My Russian beauty.”

He’s necking me now, so I lean back against him and offer my lips. He dips his head and our mouths lock. It’s sweet, tender kisses that make my knees weak. For a moment I forget supper and just hope he wants to take it to the bedroom. I reach back and grab his thigh. I feel his package bum against me.
“Horny?” I purr.
“I don’t even have a word for it. I just am totally obsessed with you. Your thick body, those muscles in your arms. Your butt is – god, I just love your butt. I love your python thighs, your uncut cock, and your big low set of balls…” he runs his hands over me, caressing me as if exploring me for the first time. The hand drifts under my apron and cups me between the legs. I inhale sharply.
“You know what I think it is?”
“Hm?” I ask, distracted, as I stir the pot.
“I think it’s me thinking about what life be like if I hadn’t met you.”
“You?!” I exclaim. “What about me? I’d still be in that tiny little town in Russia, drinking myself to death like my papa did.”
“But you aren’t there,” Jackson says, reassuring me. “You’re here. In Canada. Safe, with me, in my home. I just …jesus, Oskar, I just never imagined I’d be this happy. I sometimes wonder if it’s all a dream.”
“Isn’t that what you imagined when you put up the ad?”
“I was scared to dream I’d be this happy. Honestly, I imagined I’d be taken advantage of for sex and money and abandoned once my new partner got here.”
“But you got me.”
“I almost didn’t,” he corrects, still touching me. It’s making me really hot and bothered. I almost wish I wasn’t so deep into dinner or I would just throw himself at him.
“The agency matched you with that guy, Carlos. He was such a creep. He just wanted a sex toy.”
“Honey, I know, I was there,” I chuckle, not really wanting to think about that right now. Jackson was lost in his thoughts though.
“I was wait listed for you, on this off-chance…I just knew, you were the one. When I got the news he hurt you, oh my god, I almost went to his house and beat the shit out of him!” Jackson growls in my ear, his fingers digging a little deeper into me.
“Honey,” I plead again. “Please…that wasn’t a good time for me. Let’s not talk about Carlos. Put your hand on my cock again.”
“Mmm,” Jackson said, perking up. He wormed his way around to my front again and stroked me under the apron. I sigh. “Did I mention I love that you’re uncut?”
I blush as he tugs on my foreskin. “No.”
“Well I do. Dammit Oskar…I can still remember exactly how I felt, the moment you stepped off the plane at the airport. We had only met during the mixer in Russia the agency set up, but I recognized you immediately.”
I’m quiet for a moment. I move to drain the raviolis in the sink and Jackson trails me, still petting me. It is getting immensely difficult to think. My head is clouded with hormones and lust. I want my man to wrap me in his arms, kissing away any thoughts of the violence I experienced with Carlos. Sometimes I think about damn lucky I am, and I feel nearly sick with relief. The world rarely works out so perfectly. We were two men, seeking love, one looking for escape, the other looking for a taste of the years his diplomatic father stationed them in Moscow. The first time I made Jackson blinchiki – or as they call them here, blintzes – he actually cried.

“Honey?” I moan, my cock now achingly hard. The ravioli are cooling in the strainer.
“Yeah?” he says, distracted.
I say to him, exasperated, “Can we please go have a fuck before dinner? I am so fucking horny!”
Jackson laughs.
I feel a bit wounded. “Did I say something wrong? Is it my English? Did I not say it right?”
“No, I’m sorry love, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing with bliss. Just when I think my life is more perfect, you say the best damn things and remind me that I still have many more amazing years with you.”
“Then let’s get living them,” I insist. I turn around and pull Jackson against me. I push my crotch against his hip. Jackson grabs my ass hard until I shout, then he reaches back and unties my apron. I pull it over my head and toss it on the counter. Our lips meet and collide, desperately drawn here and to. I flick my tongue at him, and it makes Jackson ravenous. Before I know it, he’s reaching for the olive oil and I got my legs around his waist. He pushes me up onto the counter, hisses at me to “hold on”. I grab onto the cabinet. My dick is throbbing and it’s starting to ache.
“Jackson hurry!” I whimper.
He fumbles with the olive oil. One hand is still slippery when he grabs my thighs and pushes into me. I bellow out a moan as he fills me in one push. I stroke myself while he devours my mouth again. Jackson notices me pleasuring myself and pulls away a little to watch. “Yeah, that’s it Oskar, good boy” He snaps his hips like a whip, thrusting his fat cock up inside of me. I push my thighs against him. “Yes! Yes!” I cry, momentarily lost in the satisfaction of getting what I need.

Jackson is slipping on the olive oil on the floor, so he leans against me and uses his hips to fuck me. I arch my back, ignoring the counter digging into my butt.
“More! Harder!” I love these English sex words he taught me. I feel naughty when I use them. Luckily, I use the right ones and Jackson ruts until his chest is heaving with effort. Suddenly, his glans hits my prostate in just the right way and we explode together. I scream and Jackson digs his teeth into my shoulder. I am jerking myself furiously. Cum splatters up on my stomach and coats where we’re joined. I groan as I feel Jackson’s load flood in me.

Our foreheads touch as he catch our breath.
“I needed that,” I say, matter of factly.
“That was a great idea,” Jackson agrees, nibbling my jaw. Our tongues duel for a moment before he slides out. I whimper at the emptiness behind. “Christ look at this mess,” he chuckles, setting me down. “Cum and oil everywhere.”
I grin, flustered and happy. “But that is a good problem to have. You need to change your pants too.”
“What?” Jackson glances down and sees our cum has soaked the front of his jeans. “Oh damn.”
“Why don’t we eat dinner naked in the bathtub?” I offer.
“Dinner, in the bathtub?”
“Well, we won’t have to worry about getting tomato sauce on our clothes.”
“Such a smart husband,” he coos. He kisses me again. I wish he would stop that, because I want more when he does. I had a feeling we weren’t going to be getting any cleaner in that bath, and turns out, I was right. We made an even bigger mess too.

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Text is fictional. Tommy Defendi and Alex Adams. This is from Man Royale. Couldn’t find the video on their website, but it’s called Cookin’ By The Book. Here’s stills. Here’s the video bootlegged and uploaded.

New! Visible reblog buttons and tags!

New! Visible reblog buttons and tags!

by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Guess what? =D My posts on my Tumblr landing page have ‘REBLOG’ buttons now! This means you can reblog any post you like without having to open it up into a new window! Not only that, but you can view all the tags for each post and see other posts that share that tag too. Although it’s not visible now, the ‘like’ button will be making an appearance soon too, as well as some other changes to fonts and navigation.

(My HTML helper does not wish to be named, but you know who you are, kitty, thanks!)

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

As he put away my coat, a bing came from the kitchen. “Ohhh the roast is ready.”
Before I could say anything my houseboy jogged back to the kitchen, his pert butt bouncing behind him. I followed him there. “Henry, what is that smell?”
“Roast chicken,” he replied, matter of factly. “I put a lot of butter on the potatoes this time cause I know you like that.” He pulled out an impressive looking dinner and set it on the stove.
“Damn, that looks amazing. But no I mean, the other smell. It smells like a candle factory exploded.”
My boy pulls off his oven mitts and blinks at me. “Ohhh that.” He moves to the cabinet and begins to make me a vodka cranberry. “It’s spices. I thought since we live in a climate where we actually get seasons now that it would be appropriate to get into the mood of things.”

“Things…?” I repeat.
“You know, fall! Autumn! Pumpkins. Pies. Cinnamon. Apples. The leaves outside are turning colors! Here’s your drink Sir.”
I accept it, and sip it. “Thank you, boy.” I enjoy watching him move about the kitchen, fussing over the chicken and setting the table. “So you lit a candle?”
“No Sir, I had to change the air filters so I rubbed a mix of cinnamon and allspice and cloves on them.”
“How did you come up with that?”
“Well they were at the grocery store, but they were expensive, so I just decided to do it myself.”
I stare at him. “Well that’s quite intelligent.”
“Is it? Thank you Sir.” Henry frumps around with making gravy. “You know, I was thinking, why don’t we have a little house warming party?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Boy, I don’t think that’s a great idea. People are avoiding me at work because I was upfront that I was gay. I just moved here, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

Henry pauses and tilts his head. “Forgive me for saying this Sir, but I think having a housewarming party would be even more useful this way. Perhaps the people you work with aren’t used to ‘homosexuals’, or whatever they call us. It’s a perfect opportunity to show them that you’re a normal person, you live in a normal house, have a normal life. We don’t have a dungeon in the basement… well, yet. Plus, I’m a damn good cook.”
I smile. “That you are. You know, you might be right.”
“Ooo that means I can decorate the house. I could carve a pumpkin. Make that cinnamon apple cake I like… god I love parties.”

I set the drink down on the kitchen table and sink into a chair. “Come here for a moment, Henry.”
He sets a serving spoon down on the counter, wipes his hands on a towel, and walks over to me. “Yes sir?”
“Sit on my lap, boy.”
He lifts up the apron and straddles my thighs. I give him a kiss on the lips and squeeze his ass with my hands.
“God I love it when you’re domestic,” I admit, low and husky in his ear.
“Do you Sir?”
“I have no idea why, but it makes me want you. You just get this glow about you when you get into one of your moods…”
“Well, I am happy when serving the man I love.”
I capture his mouth with another kiss. My right hand moves forward, under his apron. I give his locked cock a proper tug, then cup his balls in his hand and massage them as I kiss him. Henry moans against me and grinds into my hand.
“You must really like buttered potatoes,” he breathes.
“Mmnn…I think I just really like autumn,” I say. “Are you prepared?”
“Yes Sir. I always lube up right before you get home, just in case you want to relieve some stress.”
“That’s a good boy,” I murmur. “Stand up a minute.”
He does so, so I can unzip my pants and extract my cock. I groan when the wet tip touches cool air. Henry takes over and strokes me with his hand, his eyes fixated on me. He’s flushed, but I can’t tell if it’s from cooking or from stimulation. When I’m breathing slow and properly stiff, Henry crawls back into my lap. He holds onto my shoulders so he can raise his ass up and position my cock in the right spot. I bite off a cry when I feel his body envelope me, a slow, tight heat around me, down to the hilt. I plunder his mouth again and push his waist downward so he’s sitting on my lap once more.

“God that’s it, Henry,” I murmur. He rides me, without even asking. I watch in fascination as his pelvis and hips roll while his shoulders stay mostly still. His eyes are glazed over now. I notice there’s a wet spot flourishing on the apron. Soon, I cannot stay still any longer and drive up into him. Henry cries out, begging me to keep moving. We collide over and over until he’s squeezing my shaft so hard I can’t even breathe.

I shout and explode inside of him. Henry whines, a loud needy noise, and then I feel something hot and wet pool through my work pants. I realized I haven’t breathed in what seems like forever and so I inhale, sharply. The world spins around me, and I cling to my houseboy. He is staring me with love all over his face, looking completely blissed out. I bless him with a few more kisses, then we slide apart. He looks upset at the loss, but enjoys playing with my softening cock after settling back down without it inside of him. My seed drips out of his hole and back onto my legs too. Instead of feeling filthy, I feel deeply possessive and horny again.

“That – that was a wonderful surprise Sir,” he says, his sternum heaving.
“Mnnnh…you were divine. Did I trigger something? You made a mess on my leg.”
Henry lifts up the apron corner. “I think you triggered a small anal orgasm, Sir…I felt like someone was blowing up a balloon in me and it popped and then it just felt wonderful. I feel so light.”
I smirk. “That is how it should be. That is the joy I give you.” I plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Thank you Sir, for that gift then.” Henry nuzzles my cheek. “I am afraid I have soiled your pants Sir.”
“You can scrub the semen stains out after dinner. I don’t think I can get up right now Henry, fetch me a clear pair of slacks would you?”

I watch in great amusement as a pouting Henry dismounts me and wobbles off like a baby deer, one hand pressed between those round ass cheeks. I sip my cranberry vodka and look over at the chicken roast. I must be the luckiest man in the world. 

As I sip, my thoughts drift back to that idea of a housewarming party. I like the idea more and more. I want every homophobe in that office to be jealous of what I have with Henry. I want them to see our chemistry, our happiness. I also want them to see hickeys. I swirl the ice in my glass. Yes, yes, for sure. I can hear Henry approaching with my pants. After dinner, after he’s scrubbed my pants and done the dishes, I will fuck him silly and give him those lovebites for the week.

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Text is fictional. I pulled this image from this post.