Famed ballet dancer Roberto Bolle photographed by Giampaolo Sgura
I’m partially convinced Roberto Bolle doesn’t actually exist. There is no way a man could look this beautiful, this fit, this handsome, this stunning, and do it in ballet slippers.
Tag: artistic
One late night ballet reblog for my readers. So much tension in this picture.
Dancer: Eldon L. Johnson
Photo by Peddecord Photo
Noah gasped and stumbled backwards, crashing into the desk and bruising his hip. The vibration surged through his nerves, up his spine, and worked its magic by loosening his limbs. He pursed full lips and whimpered, but the metal cage around his cock held firm. He must not cum. Noah heard a rustle outside the door and froze, then sighed in relief when it passed. This was technically his open office hours but the door was locked. If a student knocked, he’d eventually have to explain why he didn’t answer.
Another wave of vibration went through him. Noah put his fingers back near his pussy in some foggy headed attempt to control the power, to smooth the sweet ache. His Master knew exactly when he had time off between teaching classes and had set the vibrator to go off at the opportunite moment. Just minutes before, Noah had received a text message instructing him to strip. To do this at work, with just a door between him and the school, was terrifying and thrilling.
A soft moan slipped past his lips. He hated chastity cages, but his Master had put him into one as he dressed his pet this morning. He also bent him over and slid a vibrating bullet up his freshly washed ass. Noah’s Master wanted him to feel that grip around his cock the entire morning, so by the time that vibrator kicked in he was going to be drowning in lust.
Part of him wanted to rip that cage off and masturbate furiously. The other half of him, the half that won, clutched the desk and repeated to himself over and over: be good. Soon, that first part of him would be gone. This is what his Master wanted; it pleased him to know he could control his boy from afar. Noah hoped one day the training collar he wore at home would be replaced by a real collar. That would never happen if he couldn’t surrender his body’s sex drive to his Master’s hands. Noah had heard so many wonderful rumors about anal sex, hands-free orgasms, and the effects of temporary denial, but they all required another man – a superior man with a superior cock to wean him off his addiction to self pleasure.
Noan’s trapped cock leaked long strings of pre-cum. A shudder went through him as light orgasm rippled outwards from his prostate. He covered his mouth to quiet a groan. Something was happening, building, building, building. His cock felt like it was going to explode out of its restraint any second. He clenched his ass cheeks together, which made the vibrations ten times more amazing. It felt wonderful. It was coming, it was almost here, any second-! …And then it stopped.
“No!” he gasped, panting. “Noo….fuck I wanna cum, oh god Sir let me cum please,” he begged, but no one was there. Noah let out a frustrated sob. His cock was almost purple, and there was a puddle on the floor. Then, his phone rang. He dove for it.
On the other line, his Master chuckled. “Let me hear how horny you are boy.”
“Please Sir, please, turn the vibration back on, please I was so close, I was so. close. to having an anal orgasm please, oh god. I’m so horny, the room is spinning. Holy shit.”
“No…it will stay off.”
Noah whined in a loud, petulant way.
“I want that bullet nudging your prostate through-out the afternoon. We are having an early dinner with a bunch of other Masters and I intend to fuck you over the table for dessert. I want them to see your helpless trapped cock and all the mess you’ve made in your underwear. Is it damp?”
“Very Sir,” he leaned against the desk to catch his breath. “There is so much precum on the floor. uugh I want to jerk off so badly!”
“But you won’t.”
A helpless, frustrated noise passed his lips. “No. No I won’t Sir. I’m going to be good, just…very horny.”
“Yes,” he exhaled, “That’s what I want. Good slave. Now, take a picture of all the mess you made and send it to me. Then, clean it up, and get dressed. You have class in forty minutes and you have to eat and be presentable.
Noah replied with a submissive "Yes Sir”. They chatted a little longer and hung up. Noah set the phone down on the table and heaved a sigh of major frustration. The urge to climax was fading but he was hornier than ever. He wrapped his hands around his cock and felt nothing but the metal.
“Fuck.” He couldn’t. He couldn’t cum. His hand dipped to cup his balls; they were hot and swollen. The old part of Noah should have been somewhat humiliated at the idea of being fucked over a table in front of a bunch of Master’s friends, but now he couldn’t wait. His Master would be so pleased with his body and it would feel so very, very good.
Teaching the afternoon class on astrophysics was going to be a challenge, though. Maybe in 40 minutes the blush would have faded from his cheek and the pre-cum would stop dripping.
Noah reached for his underwear. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
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Text is fictional. Source unknown.
I know I push you too hard. I know I strain you, stress you, demand you to be hyperflexible and to bear the weight of my entire body on my toes. I try to meet you halfway though. I make sure to stretch you and massage you and soak you. I drain the blisters under your nails and cut out the corns and callouses that make for awkward steps. I know you tell me you’re hurting, that you need to heal, but I abuse you and push you forward. I know this is not what you were intended to do, but you have carried me so far – across life and across the stage. You are hurting, throbbing in pain, so it is obvious I am not taking good enough care of you. I’m so sorry. When I dance, it is a compromise of art and my physical limits. I need you. I need you so much, so please, don’t hold me hostage. I can’t do this without you. I need you to fly. Just a little longer, don’t give out on me. Two more performances, and then we can rest. Get that surgery you need. I promise. Just be beautiful and hold me up a little longer. Please.
(Text is fictional; dancer is Gonzalo Garcia of the New York City Ballet.)
Someday, my prince will come.
(Yet another one of the endless beautiful photos of Friedemann Vogel; in this he’s doing a perfect arabesque. Btw, I don’t think he’s actually gay.)
Northern Ballet dancer Tobias Batley as The Prince in David Nixon OBE’s new ballet of Cinderella.
Photo Emma Kauldhar.
You could crush walnuts with that ass. What a tremendous display of power and strength.
Craving your attention.
Dane Hurst in Marguerite Donlon’s “Labyrinth of Love”
Rambert Dance Company (UK)
I remember walking down to the old docks, hand in hand. I remember talking about the dumb things dogs do, and I remember the chill in the wind that hinted summer was over. I can fondly recall us sitting on the edge of an old abandoned dock house, watching ducks on the bank of the lake, because this is where he kissed me for the first time. It was the beginning of a high school love that survived growing up and would eventually blossom into adulthood marriage.
More than anything though, the part of this scene that sticks in my mind most of all, is my boyfriend being so distracted and swept up in his amorous feeling for me after our kiss that he lost his balance and tumbled into the lake. I laughed so hard I got tears in the corners of my eyes and my stomach ached as I watched him stomp to the shore line and empty the water out of his new shoes.
Love really does knock a man off feet – or in this case – his seat.
I took him home and bathed him while his clothes went through our washing machine, and we kissed in the shower over and over and over until the water went cold.
___________________________________________
Text is fictional. Source:
Alex Bischoff and his boyfriend. They look like a really good couple! I hope em the best and if you see this you should definitely go follow Alex. 🙂
You know why I have to punish you roughly. Tell me you know. Tell me you want me to punish you. Tell me I have I be rougher than I was previously. Tell it, boy, with your breathless horny tone of voice.
(Model is Michael Camiloto.)
An all inclusive, late night ballet reblog set. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous!