Tag: boyfriends

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Henry was working on a metal sculpture for an upcoming exhibit when he got a text message from Emmett: Can I come over?
Henry texted back: Can it wait? I’m working.
Emmett replied at once: I need you, please.
Henry became alarmed: Can I call you? Do I need to call the cops?
Emmett: Please can I just come over?
Henry: Yes of course. He turned off the soldering machine and cleaned up his work area before taking a 3-minute shower. Emmett didn’t live far, maybe twenty minutes away.

Henry was drinking water in his kitchen when Emmett knocked. Henry rushed the door to say “hello” to his friend, but the sight of Emmett’s red, tear stained face took the words right out of his mouth.
“Oh Emmy, what happened?”

Emmett’s bottom lip trembled and he burst into fresh sobs. Henry embraced him, leading him into the house and closing the door behind them. “Oh Emmy, what happened? Shhh…sshh, it’s ok. I’m here now.” He took Emmet to the living room but his legs couldn’t seem to hold him up any longer; he leaned back against the window and sunk to the floor. Henry grabbed a box of tissues off the coffee table and sat across from him, legs crossed.
“There there…it’s alright. Tell me what’s wrong, Emmy?”
“It’s Tim,” he managed through a tight throat.
The hair went up on the back of Henry’s neck. “Did he hurt you?” he asked in a low, serious voice. “Cause if he did I’m going to wring his fucking neck.”

Emmett hiccuped and grabbed a tissue. “He won’t unlock me! He put the chastity device on about six weeks ago, but he has only fucked me once since. It’s becoming really uncomfortable, and itchy, but he won’t unlock me – he says to just take baths for cleanings and to be a ‘good boy’ and play with my toys. I need more than though! I need to be fucked, to be milked like that, and he won’t do it.” Emmett sniffled, his chest fluttering from his big cry.
Henry rubbed Emmett’s leg reassuringly. “Did you demand the key?”
“He won’t give it to me! About a week ago my balls really started to ache. It hurt so much I barely slept last night. Also, my left ball began to tingle and it’s almost numb right now.”
“Holy shit.”
“I begged Tim to open the lock, but he won’t! He doesn’t understand. He just thinks I’m whining and am trying to manipulate him so I can jack off.” Emmett balled his fists and banged them against the floor. “It hurts, Henry, it hurts so much! I can’t go to school or work like this!” Fresh tears began to fall. “Please, I need you to cut the lock, I know you have the tools.”

Henry’s eyes were dark with fury. “That bastard…how dare he fucking hurt you.”
“You can tell me ‘I was right’ if you want,” Emmett said in a soft, sad voice, “You knew he was mean from the start, but I was so enamored by how hot he was, I thought it’d be so sexy to be locked by him, it should have been you…”
“Heeeyy no, Emmett. It’s ok. It might have worked out, it might not have. In this case it didn’t. But you took a chance and now you know, and you’ll use that information to find yourself a better partner right? I won’t judge you for that.”
Emmett nodded, obviously miserable. He dropped a crumpled tissue on the floor with the rest, and plucked a new one out of the box.
“Stay here, I’m going to get the bolt cutters from my workshop.”

Henry first brought Emmett some fresh water to sip, then ran out to his workshop to find the tool. When Emmett saw them, his eyes went wide. “That won’t cut anything else right?”
“No, just metal. Come into the kitchen, sit on a chair.” Emmett held out his hands and Henry pulled him to his feet. He heard Emmett whimper. Henry got the boy situated; he was shirtless and wearing only some athletic shorts that came off easily enough. Their relationship was casual and he had seen Emmett naked before; they had grown up next door from each other. Henry’s mom needed to borrow a cup of sugar and that’s how they met. They had been inseparable, Emmett following Henry around like a puppy. Now adults, they had their own lives but never went more than a week without contact.

With a sharp bang, the lock snapped under the steel teeth of the bolt cutters. Emmett yelped.
“Shit, did I hurt you?” Henry’s eyes roved over his swollen cock, looking for blood.
Emmett looked sheepish. “No the loud noise just startled me.”
Henry chuckled. “Yeah it startled me a little too.” He put the bolt cutters on the table and pulled off the lock. “I’m gonna go slowly ok?” Emmett nodded; his cock was starting to harden at the contact. Henry delicately pulled the plastic sleeve off his cock. An unpleasant scent reached his nose and he crinkled it in response. Emmett smelled it too. “Oh god. Oh god is that..is that me?”
“Did Tim not clean you in six weeks?” he asked in disbelief.
“Just bath soaks… I tried with q-tips but it was so tight.” Emmett covered his face in shame.
“Honey you’re uncut. You can’t clean that just with a soak…” Henry felt a tear hit his wrist. “Oh god, I’m sorry Emmett. Don’t be embarrassed. This isn’t your fault. Henry pulled off the plastic pieces and put them in a small paper bag he found under the sink. He folded it over and set it aside, then returned to Henry’s cock and inspected it with his fingertips.
"Sweetie, I hate to tell you this, but there’s a sore on this side, and there’s a rash under your shaft. It might be a skin infection. You’re going to need to see a doctor.”

Emmett wiped tears off his face. “I feel so disgusting,” he said, feeling helpless.“
Henry brushed his cheeks with the back of his other hand. "Hey…it’s ok Emmy. I’m going to take care of you alright? I won’t hurt you, I promise.
Emmett looked at him with hope in his wet eyes.
"Do you have health insurance?” Henry asked.
“Yes, private.”
“Ok, we’re gonna need to call a urologist and make an appointment.”
“Can we shower first? Please? I can’t go in there with it smelling like this!

Henry agreed. He stood and got Emmett another tissue. "Let’s take a bath real quick.” He was relieved to see Emmett smile. They went upstairs together, and Henry filled the tub with warm water and a bit of vitamin E oil. By this point, Emmett’s cock was hard and deep red. “It hurts…” he said.
“We’ll take care of that.” Henry fetched the box of white gloves from the medicine cabinet, but when he saw the hurt look on Emmett’s face he put them down. Emmett looked relieved. Henry picked up the softest washcloth he had; he sat on a folded towel next to the tub and washed his friend with gentle lavender bath gel, saving his cock for last. He took great care in cleaning the sensitive skin, careful of the sore. He massaged Emmett’s numb testicle until he gasped and announced it was tingling. Pleased, Henry moved up to his cock. He took a deep breath and pulled back the foreskin. Both men cringed.
“I am going to murder Tim, I swear to god,” Henry muttered.
“I’d like to help.” Emmett agreed, folding his arms. “Ohh Henry that feels nice… that feels really nice.” His arms fell away at his sides and he rested his head on the back of the tub. “I wanna cum. Can I come?”
“Come as many times as you’d like.”
Emmett shot soon after, his seed shooting up like a fountain. They watched it splash into the water, making them both giggle. Henry was able to coax a second orgasm out of his friend, and by that time, Emmett looked like he was going to fall asleep.

Henry rinsed out the wash cloth and threw it into the sink. He pulled the drain on the tub and bundled Emmett into a fresh towel.

After some phone calls, they made an appointment at urologist for later in the afternoon. Just as Henry was starting to make lunch, the receptionist called back and said someone just canceled and if they wanted to come in early? Henry gave him some clean shorts to wear and got him into the car. Emmett commented how strange it was to not have the cage on; how light his cock felt and how sensitive it was. He spent the car ride plucking at the shorts.

The urologist listened to Emmett’s story with sympathy. He confirmed that the mottled spots on the underside of his cock were in fact a fungal infection. Emmett nearly died from shame and clung to Henry’s hand to keep from just going all emotional again. The doctor discovered the sore was an ingrown hair and subsequently drained it. He performed some more tests, including a much hated prostate exam, and by the end Emmett thought he’d never stop blushing.
“Now, you should not wear any sort of restrictive device on your penis for six weeks, including a condom. If you’re home, I suggest you stay nude, let it breathe. Wear loose fitting clothing, as I said, nothing tight or restricting,” the doctor instructed.
Emmett looked at Henry. “Around Tim? I don’t think-”
“You’re gonna stay with me,” Henry interrupted firmly. Emmett exhaled as the weight slid off his shoulders.

Both were quiet on the way home from the doctor and the pharmacist. As they pulled in the drive way, Emmett spoke up. “Is it wrong that I still want to explore chastity one day? I feel so perverted that I like the fetish so much, even now.”
Henry parked the car. “You’re a natural submissive, Emmett. You should never be ashamed of it. A proper chastity and keyholder relationship can be a wonderful thing.”
“I loved being horny the first week Tim locked me,” he admitted.
“A good keyholder takes care of his boy though and artfully uses that horniness to create wonderful, intense sexual experiences for both partners. You’ll find that one day, after you’re healed.”
“Would you be my keyholder, Henry?”
Henry unfastened his seatbelt and glanced over at Emmett. “I would love to take care of you, but I think you’re exhausted and upset and need to think about this more. Right now you’re just seeking me because I’m your friend and I’m the opposite of Tim. The doctor said you have six weeks of rest anyway, so let’s wait until then to talk about it ok? Plus, no more plastic. If you’re serious about chastity, we’ll look into metal.”
Emmett looked a little disappointed but nodded. “Metal? Really? Custom devices are always expensive.”
“But they’re better, easier to clean, and won’t hurt you. A good investment.”
Emmett thought. “How is it that you’re always right?”
“Not always,” Henry corrected. “Remember when I moved in and painted my bedroom pink by mistake?”
Emmett laughed. “It looked like a 7 year old princess lived there. God that was funny.”
Henry shook his head. “I was never so happy to see cream. Alright, let’s go in.”

Back in the kitchen, Henry made Emmett a grilled cheese sandwich and heated up a can of soup. After Emmett devoured both, he put him down for a nap sans apparel. As Henry was walking away, he felt a tug on his shirt. He looked over to see Emmett peering up at him from the blankets.
“Stay with me? Until I fall asleep?”
Henry sighed and gave in, climbing into bed and holding his friend until he finally surrendered his exhausted body to sleep. When he was sure Emmett was unconscious judging by his low breathing, Henry slipped out from the blankets and tucked Emmett in tight. Henry left him a glass of water on the nightstand, then went downstairs to grab his keys and put on his shoes. He also grabbed the paper bag on the way out.

Henry was going to go put the fear of God into Tim for hurting such a sweet, trusting, boy.

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Text is fictional. This is male model Harry Bowen. This caption is not a speculation of his sexuality or attempted projection of his identity. Photographer is listed as Bryan Huynh.

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“Mmmnn!…mmnnnff you taste nice. You taste like wine and chocolate.”
“You just taste like you.”
“Oh the shirt’s coming off. I like. I love your body babe,” I murmur, exploring his torso with splayed hands. “So fucking sexy. Makes me horny.”
“I love that you think I’m sexy,” he says in a low, sensual voice. “You know what I’m gonna do to you?”
“Mmm what? Kiss me?”
He presses his soft lips to mine. “Yes, and?”
“And what?” I ask, half paying attention.
“I’m going to take you to bed and touch your penis,” he whispers in this rich voice that makes goosebumps rise on my skin.
“Are you now?” I manage, my mouth dry.
“Yeah baby. We’ve been so busy lately, it just drives me nuts to have it be so close to me yet trapped in your shorts where I can’t get it.”
“You like touching my cock?” I whisper into his mouth.
“Yeah I do baby. It’s so fat and thick, it fits perfectly in my hand. I love to make it silky and hot, and I love to feel it grow under my fingers.”
I moan, my pants feeling two sizes too small.
“And you know what I’m going to do after that?”
“What?” I beg.
“I’m going to touch your testicles.”
I moan even louder.
“I’m going to roll them in my fingers, move them around in your sac. Make you nice and horny for me, turn you into a pliant little succubus.”
“Then are you gonna fuck me…?”
“If you don’t spill all your seed, you horny little boy, then yes. I know you haven’t been filled properly in way too long.” He punctuates this with another kiss. “You will beg for every inch I g-”

WWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

We both jump a little, then emit twin groans of sheer frustration. I lock my fingers behind my neck and puff out my cheeks, he just balls his fists and counts to ten.
“Fuck,” he spits. “We just put her to bed, why is she crying so early?”

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHh WAAAHH!

I feel like crying too. “I’m never gonna get my dick touched again at this rate.”
He kisses my forehead. “Yes you are. I’m going to go see what she wants.”
“Isn’t it my turn?”
“Stay,” he commands, using that bossy voice I like so much. I huff in frustration and collapse onto the bed, waiting for Romero to come back into the room. I brush my teeth and fondle myself through my shorts to keep my half erection alive. Romero returns about fifteen minutes later.

I sit back down on the bed. “Remind me why we adopted a baby again? Why not a four year old? We could have skipped all of this.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Because you’re baby crazy, and because a baby needed us at that time. She’ll know nothing else but us. We’ve raised her since her 3rd day of life, it makes her ours more than anything.”
“Still can’t believe Elyse is actually ours,” I say. Romero has sat next to me and I nuzzle noses with him.
“Mm she’s pretty wonderful isn’t she? I just changed her and got out that burp we didn’t get after her last bottle.”
“You’re such a good daddy.”
He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “Because you give me the courage.”
“Do I?” Our lips meet once more. “So…does this mean, in thanks, you’re going to touch my dick now?”

Romero tugs on the waistband of my sweatpants. “Oh, that’s inevitable.”

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Text is fictional. Source unknown.

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The first time we had sex, it was after 13 long, slow months of dating. Julian wanted to go further, but was petrified stiff. No pun intended. He wanted to set a date to lose his virginity. At his request, I loosened him up with craft beer and Jack Daniels, and also at his request, put a little GHB in his drink. Just a little. He also took poppers. To say Julian relaxed instantly was an understatement – he was on me, crazy horny, and dragging me to bed.

We got naked and he wanted me to take him – was begging me to take him, to fuck him hard – but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. He wasn’t sober, and even though he’d consented, I wanted our first time together be real. He wasn’t going to remember this. He was never going to know how much of it was the drugs and alcohol and how much was love and passion. I was never going to know either.

So, I edged him and capped it off with an intense handjob. Julian exploded all over my chest, then promptly passed out.

The next morning, he was gone before I woke up. I couldn’t get a hold of him until 9 pm that night. I had texted him stating if he didn’t respond to me right goddamn now I was filing a missing persons report. Julian replied and asked to meet me at a coffee shop.

He picked an isolated table in the back. Before I could get a word out, he  begins to blather about how gross and disgusting he felt. He was headachey; he couldn’t remember most of the previous night and was regretting having ruined his first time. I kept trying to interrupt him but he just kept talking, so eventually I just put my hand over his mouth and said firmly. “If you just shut up a moment, I’d inform you that we didn’t have sex.”
“….What?” Julian’s face furrows. “I don’t understand – I remember being naked, cumming…”
“You were on aphrodisiacs, horned out of your mind. I gave you a handjob because you said you’d only not like them if you were dead. I had to get you off the edge. You passed out like, right after.”
He blushes. “But we didn’t…fuck? You didn’t penetrate me with your cock?”
“No. For the exact reasons you described above. Handjobs were always something you were fine with, but penetrative sex was another matter. Just because you consented before the booze and GHB doesn’t mean you still do after you’ve taken them. I felt like such a creep. I felt like I was going to rape you, the way you just were grinding on me like crazy. You wanted my dick, but I didn’t know if you really did, you know? I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to "do the deed”, I wanted to make love with you. You were fucking hot, but it was not what I wanted.“
Julian sits in silence, blinking like an owl at me. "But… how can I be sure?”
“No open condom wrappers. No sore ass. You’ve never taken my cock before, I would have stretched you first. You would have remembered that.”

“No condom wrappers…” He fights the indignancy he’d been building all day, then releases it all in an audible sigh. He collapses back into his chair, exhausted. “oh my god. I am so relieved. Just…Jesus fucking Christ, I was coming here to break up with you!”
“I know,” I say softly.
“God you are amazing. You’re the best boyfriend ever. I am so grateful for your thoughtfulness.”
I give him a warm smile. “It’s because of you. You’re the one I really want to keep and cherish. I’m… I’m really hoping we can try this again? I want to be your first, if you still want me…”

He sits up. “Yes! Yes I do. When it’s right.”
“When it’s right.” I put my hand on the table and Julian put his hand over mind. I told him I love him and he blushed again, before telling me he loves me too.

A week later, he was over for dinner-and-a-movie when a heavy storm knocked out the power. We had dessert and coffee in bed, surrounded by candles, and one thing lead to another… The next morning, the Earth was verdant from being washed clean and Julian woke up a man.

We’re still together. To this day, I still wrap an arm around him in bed. I’m not letting him run off on me again while I’m sleeping. I love when he spoons up against me and wiggles his butt into my crotch, accepting that he’s stuck and might as well get comfy before I wake up horny and come after his hot self.
____________________________
Text is fictional. Source unknown.

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I see Howard across the shopping center and totally just freeze. It’s him. It’s absolutely him. I forget that he can see me staring and that I’m not gazing at him through a screen or one way glass. He doesn’t look like his online profile at all – he looks twice as tall and three times more handsome. The angle of his photos made his face look shorter and rounder, and the lights from the club made him look much lighter. His skin is the exact color of cinnamon, and I don’t doubt it’s warm and smooth as the foam on a chocolate latte. He is more handsome than I ever could have hoped.

But he’s wearing a cardigan and I’m just not sure if I’m ready for boyfriends that wear sweaters…and what are those shoes called? Chukkas? Where at the basketball shorts and wifebeater shirts and sneakers? Are those jeans or slacks? God, what do I do – I can’t tear my eyes away and he’s noticing me, his face furrowing in confusion. Am I ready for a man like this? He’s gotta be intelligent as hell and totally down to Earth and practical, hell I can just tell he’s gonna be a great dad one day… and I mean, why would he want to date me?

I shouldn’t have worn this shirt. I should have gone with the button up. Should I have played up my 1/16th Cherokee heritage? Maybe he doesn’t date white boys. God he looks amazing in that cardigan. This guy isn’t gonna try to fake his way through a date just to touch my dick, he’s gonna want to cuddle up next to me and have a glass of whine…. am I ready for that? Am I really, really ready because this guy could be the father of my kids one day and oh god he’s coming over here.

When he looked at his phone earlier, he was totally checking out my profile picture. I can’t be what he thought I’d be. He has to be disappointed already. I’m just not that put together, and I should have worn the button up shirt, goddammit. What color do I look bad in again? Purple or yellow? My socks are cream – is cream yellow? Oh god, brain please shut up he’s coming over here. People are looking at him, noticing him, his style is just so casual and organic, how does he make it so effortless?

Why does that guy not have every gay college lit major trailing after him for his phone number? Why does he have to turn to online dating? And why did he pick –

“Pardon… are you Micah?” he asks, adorably nervous. Part of him is surely wondering if I’m just stoned out of my mind, standing here gawking like this.
I stammer and run my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I’m Micah Carter. You must be Howard.” I offer a hand, he shakes it; his grip is perfect. I faintly smell sandalwood.
“Yes, I am. Is everything alright? You have this frightened look on your face. Is there something growing out of my head?”
My face darkens a deep red. “No it’s just – just… well, I don’t know if I can explain it. I’ve met a lot of guys online and no one else gave me this feeling…ugh, this is so embarrassing. I’ll tell you one day, it’d just seem silly now. Um. You look really handsome and well put-together. Love the cardigan.”
The confused look on his face melts into a relaxed smile and he chuckles. “I’m not really sure what you mean by that first part, but thank you, that’s sweet of you to say. I went through eight other sweaters to pick it out.”
“I’ve never dated a guy who owns eight sweaters before…”
“I’ve never had a date with a guy I met online before.” Howard offers, looking shy. “And uh, I think it’s kinda hot you’re wearing just a plain white tee-shirt and raw denim. It’s such a classic look, you just don’t see it anymore.”
I’m momentarily speechless. “Howard, you are a sweetheart for saying that, but I just don’t think I can hold a candle next to you.”
He tilts his head and I swear I see him blush.. “Why don’t we just go on our date and you let me decide, Micah?”
Relief floods through me. He’s taking control. I need this, like my lungs need air. “Yeah, sure, I can’t wait.” Howard gives me another little smile and begins to walk; and to my surprise, my feet become unstuck from the floor and follow after him.
_________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Watermarked. This man’s name is Rashid, and this was taken at the Melbourne Central shopping plaza in Australia.

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I came into the room holding a white box in my hands. My boyfriend didn’t notice me at first. Flint was draped over the sofa like an over-sized Great Dane, his eyes glued to the muted TV. I heard him sigh in lament as he watched the clips KCAL News were broadcasting of firework shows from the East Coast. The sun hadn’t yet set here in Los Angeles, but on the other side of the country it was over.

“Flint,” I said softly. He lifted his head and glanced over at me with a mournful, uninterested expression on his face.
“What?” he sulked.
“I have a present for you.”
“…But my birthday isn’t until August.”
“I know baby.” I smile. “This is a just-because present.”
He glanced over at the bright colors on the screen before sitting up. I took a seat next to him and offered the box. Flint carefully peeled off the white butcher paper; the box was blank and held no clues to its contents. He popped the tape and opened it. When he saw what was inside, his brow furrowed.
“Headphones?” he inquired.
“They’re gun-range earmuffs, and there’s some high end earplugs in there too. I know how badly you wanted to go see fireworks this 4th of July, and this will help dampen the sound so it won’t trigger your PTSD.”

Flint’s face softened and he traced his fingers over the padding on the left ear cup. “But…are you sure it will be enough so I don’t have an anxiety attack?”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes. I found a place up in the hills, called the Baldwin Hills Overlook. It’s in Culver City. It’s way up in the hills and not directly below any fireworks shows, so you can see them at a distance without being in direct range of the loud bangs and explosions.”
He bit his lip. I could see Flint badly wanted to believe me. Before he was deployed to the Middle East, we would go down to Dockweiler Beach and light bonfires and set off illegal firecrackers and just generally act like drunk hooligans. As a child, Fourth of a July was a family affair for little Flint and he felt a strong pull to carry on the tradition of flag cakes, cook-outs, and things that go boom. Being stuck at home made him miserable, especially because he was a military man and felt pressure to participate.

“Tovy…I’m not …but what if it’s not enough?” he said softly.
“Parking is free, and we can leave at any time. It’s not far from our apartment here in West Hollywood, just down La Cienega then we turn on Jefferson. Easy peasy. Worse comes to worse, Brotman Medical Center is like right there.”

Flint took the items out of the box. “You’ve thought of everything,” he said in awe. He looked away but I saw that his eyes were wet.
“Yes, because I know it means a lot to you. Oh – one more thing.”
Flint blinked. “There’s more?”
“Yes,” I said. I got up and vanished into the kitchen, then returned holding some rectangular in metal tin.
“A flag cake!” he squealed.
“Made with Cool Whip and everything,” I beamed.
“Oh Tovy baby,” his voice cracked as he threw his arms around me. “You’re the best goddamn boyfriend. I’m so excited.” He punctuated that with a kiss. I watched him put the earmuffs on. “How do I look?”
“Dorky,” I chuckled.
“What?” he said.
I pulled them away from his ears. “Adorkable, but I like you that way. Now grab your sweater while I pack us some drinks.”
Flint smiled at me, then turned off the TV and was up the stairs in a flash.

We got lucky and found parking at base of the park, then began the upward climb up switchbacks to the baseball fields above; from there, we then continued up a steep driveway to the Overlook. Flint paused to stare at the panorama of Los Angeles spread out below us. “This is fantastic,” he breathed. “You can see all the way from the Pacific Ocean to Downtown…and beyond. I had no idea this was up here! Goddamn, the sunset is gorgeous, setting behind the hills like that. Oh, I can see the 10!”
I let him gush, then we found a spot and sat down. By the time we cut the cake, people were lighting off things down below and Flint dived for the earplugs and headphones. People stared at us, but Flint ignored them in favor of being hand-fed cake by me. We drank our sodas until the sun set, and firework shows began legally -and illegally- all over the city. Flint and I eventually packed up our stuff back into my backpack and stood to see over everyone else. As the night deepened, more and more neighborhoods began to shoot off their pyrotechnics. I watched Flint carefully, but he was transfixed.

When a community college close to the Overlook began their show, Flint reached for my hand and squeezed it hard.
“Do you wanna go?” I asked.
Flint didn’t respond. He couldn’t hear me, and he wasn’t paying attention. I watched the colors reflect in his eyes and I realized he was crying. I wrapped my arms around him and he clung to me, sniffling. “You know why I love fireworks so much?”
I shook my head.
“Because even if we fucked up in the Middle East, and even if the US sometimes does dumb shit, fireworks allow us to be patriotic without being political. I think we need that, now more than ever. I never thought I’d get to see them again because of my stupid PTSD.”
I kissed his cheek and rested my head on his shoulder.

As the finales came on, Flint had started to tremble from their bombastic displays. We made it through the Culver City finale, and then he told me he wanted to go in a harried voice. Truthfully, it was a smart move. We got out of there before traffic began and we were home in record time.

I was the first in the door with Flint trailing behind me. He barely shut the door when he grabbed my wrist and spun me around. I gasped in surprise as he came at me pelvis first, then pinned me to the wall with a deep kiss. His hands roved up my arms and my shoulders as he rubbed his half-hard erection into my hip. My hands instantly went to his ass. When we broke, I was panting and my lips felt slightly bruised.
“What was that?”
“A thank you,” he murmured, trailing kisses up my jaw. “You are just the most wonderful, fantastic thing to happen to me, Tovy. I haven’t felt so wonderful in a long time, and watching you feed me cake made me ridiculously horny.”
I lifted my hips off the wall to meet him, and I was pleased to hear him groan. “You wanna go create some fireworks of our own?”
I saw a flicker of amusement cross Flint’s face. “Fuck yeah I do. I’m going to make love to you so hard you’re gonna sing the Star Spangled Banner.”
I laughed and Flint couldn’t help but join me. I paused to put the rather smushed cake remains back into the fridge, then ran to join Flint in the bedroom. He was naked and waiting for me, and tasted deliciously of strawberries and Cool Whip.

I didn’t dare tell Flint, but he was a screamer and he made more noise than any explosion we heard from Baldwin Hills that night.

_________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Can’t find the source. The Baldwin Hills Overlook is a real thing on Jefferson Blvd in Los Angeles (not to be confused with the Kenneth Hahn Recreation area on La Cienega Blvd) and a great place to see fireworks.

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“So ..mom. I met someone at Pride yesterday.”
“You MET someone? Good for you baby! Is this the end to your seven month dry spell?”
“I think so mom, I really do. He’s a good kisser, and there were sparks. Can I bring him over for dinner sometime?”
“Oh you better! Bring him over tomorrow, so I have time to make lasagna. I need to look this boy up and down and make sure he’s a good fit for you, not like that last moron you dated.”
“Yeah Derek was not the best choice…but he was smoking hot.”
“All those years or parenting, and I still can’t seem to teach you to not think with your dick.”
“MOTHER!”
She laughed over the phone. “Just bring him for dinner at 6:30 sharp.”
“Yes mother.”
“And what’s his name?”
“Clark.”
“Mmn. Morgan and Clark Fairchild. I like it.”
“MOTHER! Seriously, we just started dating 48 hours ago.”
“And I used to doodle your father’s name and mine in our notebooks when we were in 7th grade. Never too early.”
“Mother, please be nice to Clark. I don’t want to scare him off.”
“I’ll be nice, I’ll be nice. Bring dessert, ok Morgan?”
“Yes mom. Love you.”
“You too, sweetheart. Bye.”

“So…she’s cool with us?” Clark was still getting used to the idea of PFLAG parents.
“Lasagna at her house tomorrow, 6:30,” Morgan replies, leaning against the counter.
“I’m meeting your mother already…?”
“Not like you think. My last boyfriend was a jackass and liked to hit people, so now my mom wants to "approve” all my boyfriends through cunning use of dinner invites.“
He chuckles. "Well I would love home-cooked lasagna, and I’ll do my best to impress your mom.”
“Thank you for understanding, Clark. Oh, and we have to bring dessert.”
“Dessert?” His face lit up. “You know what that means.”
“What?”
“Iiiiit’s baking time. Go get your apron on.”
“But I don’t have an apron, Clark.”
“Guess you’re gonna have to bake in your underwear then.”
Before I can protest, he’s already digging in my cupboards and making lists. Baking in our underwear with a cute boy? Ok, I think I’m totally over Derek now.

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Text is fictional, source unknown.

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Kirk had lost track of how many times they’d had sex. This wasn’t like those countless times other mornings they spent together in bed, naked and intimate. Something was different. The air was thicker, headier. Kirk swept his hand over the knot of Ben’s shoulder muscle, over his collarbone and up his neck to cup his jaw. He gazed deeply into the eyes of the sweet man that captivated his attention and time. Ben looked up at him inquisitively, his own hand massaging Kirk’s bulging pectoral. Kirk moved in to kiss him, and Ben submitted to his lips. Kirk took a deep breath and nuzzled his boyfriend’s jaw. He knew right then of something that he’d been unsure of for a long time – that there would be nobody else.

“I love you, Ben Miller,” he murmured, jostling the words loose from his tight throat.
Ben paused exploration of Kirk’s body at the declaration. His mouth fell open, then closed tight. He swallowed. His lower lip trembled and he began to weep.

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Text is fictional. I think this is from Sean Cody.

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noodlesandbeef:

While exploring Toronto I took big pup to catch a very special movie at a local theater.

I took him to see our movie.

I had rented out the entire theater, made movie posters, had tickets printed up, and created a feature length about our life together. From when we first met to our adventures around the world. All set to the soundtrack from Pixar’s Up.

At the end of the movie I got on my knee and proposed:

“To my wonderful pup, you are my greatest adventure. Thank you for every moment…will you marry me?”

He said yes!

THEY GOT ENGAGED! Yaaaayyy! Congratulations you two <3 If you guys haven’t heard of Noodles and Beef, check out their photos – they’re really too adorable for words. Also a really fascinating and educational looking into a poly D/s pup relationship.

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Amir felt totally helpless, stuck at work and reading the texts from his boyfriend who was having an increasingly bad day. He overslept. The printer ran out of ink. He spilled half his coffee on the counter and didn’t have time to make more. He managed to drive to school but because he was late, had trouble finding parking. Marvin had put the files he needed to print on a thumb drive, but when he got to the computer lab, he realized he’d left it at home. Luckily, his teacher was sympathetic and allowed a one day grace period.

It didn’t end there – the yogurt Marvin bought at lunch was spoiled. He dripped mustard on his shirt. When he took it off to wash it in the bathroom, someone snickered and called him “fatty” under their breath as they walked out. I laughed when my boyfriend texted me: “I wish I were a real bear, I would have bit him.” And on and on; my boyfriend worked at a cafe, and they called and said they were temporary closing because they’d violated health code. Mold in the ice maker, for example. And in an afternoon class? A plagiarism program had detected some inconsistencies on a paper he wrote, despite that it was all original content.

On the way home, Marvin’s car began to make funny noises. Despite his fearsome appearance, my boyfriend was a sensitive guy. I knew he was going to be upset and down from life dumping on him. I came up with a plan to cheer him up, and left work a little early. By the time, Marvin dragged himself through the door, he was mentally beat down and barely had the energy to kick off his shoes. I sent him a text: Come to the bedroom, babe.

Curious, he scurried down the hallway. When he opened the door, his face lit up. I was lying on the bed, nude and ready with my balls peeking out from between my legs, one of his favorite donuts perched on my ass.

“Oh Amir,” he purred. “Now that is a sight for sore eyes.”
“The donut is from Lucy’s.”
“Lucy’s still had chocolate frosties still late in the day…?”
“They had one left. I guess you could say you got lucky there.”
Marvin smiled. “A thoughtful boyfriend, his hairy ass on display for me, and a donut… yeah I guess you could say I am pretty lucky. I just don’t know which one to eat first.”

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Text is fictional. This or this might be the source but not sure if that’s the original poster or not. This caption is for Big Gay Rob.