Tag: boyfriends

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

porno-graph:

     As things heated up between us, we were getting progressively more careless about doing things in public. Not that we were having sex on the new beds in the furniture section at Macy’s or anything like that. We were starting to hold hands in movies, sneak kisses when we thought we were unobserved.

     It all started to mean a lot to me when I saw how free straight couples were to neck, pet, and do other overtly sexual things in public without any fear of any kind of reprisal. All my life I’d had to hide my feelings from others, to keep my true nature as hidden as I could or risk being beaten up or called unsavory, hurtful names.

     So in the diner, when I realized that no one could see our arms or legs under the table, I put my hand on his hairy knee and just stroked. After a minute, his finger was on my shin, the other hand pressing on mine tightly. That was all that happened, then, but I know I remembered it later when we were alone. I’ll bet he did, too.

Sweet <3

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“I don’t know if I can go through with this.”
“Why, what’s a matter, baby?”
“I’m too nervous to meet your parents. I just- I mean everything has been going so well, but I’m gonna fuck it up somehow and then they’re going to hate me.”
“They won’t hate you. I’ve talked about you to them before. They want to meet you, they keep pestering me about bringing you over. It’s just a barbeque, not a state dinner.”
He sighs. “What if they bring up my stint in rehab? How am I supposed to answer that?”
I reach over to hold his hand, entwining our fingers together. He latches on to me with a strong grip. “Just tell them you don’t think it’s really appropriate to be talking about that now, but if they have questions they can discuss it later with you in private. Besides, you’re completely clean and have been free from drugs for years, you should be proud of that. Both my parents have done stuff in their youth that was questionable anyway. They shouldn’t bring it up.”
He sighs again, squeezing my hand still. I rub his thumb knuckle with my own thumb for reassurance.
“Ok, I think I’m gonna be ok. They’ll like me, and it’ll be great, and I’m freaking out for nothing.”
I tilt my head. “Is it really so important to you that accept you?”
“Yes!” he hisses. “Cause you’re important to me. This relationship is important to me. I want our families to like each other, and well – I still have pretty low self-esteem from my flophouse days. Their approval of me also goes a long way in reassuring me that you’re not too good for me.”
“Aww baby,” I coo. I lean to the side and kiss him. “I love you, and that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me. Well the fact you’re so serious about this means that you’re good boyfriend material..”
“You mean it?”
“I mean it.”
He pauses a moment. “Ok. I’m ready.”
I press another kiss to his cheek, then knock on the door before letting myself inside. “Mom, Dad, we’re here!”

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Text is fictional. I couldn’t locate the source. It looks like it came from a movie.

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“Ohhh fuck yeah, I’m in! – It’s in, it’s in, god baby you swallowed me right to the hilt,” I purr.
“Ah–ow ow! Nng!” he crunches his face up.
“Shit, that was a bit fast wasn’t it? Are you ok, babe?”
“Yeah just…nnng,,” he holds his breath for a long moment and releases it, panting softly. “Gimme a sec. You’re in. You’re actually in me. I ..can feel you, it feels huge.”
I smile. “You flatter me. Are you in pain?”
“No just…I need a moment to adjust. Feels good. Feels hot.” He pulls my face close and kisses me.
I return it slowly while watching his face contort. I can feel him clench and squeeze around me, making my dick swell even more. “Relax, just relax. You feel amazing, babe, like this thick velvety glove around me.” I nuzzle his face, nose to nose. “Can you feel it too?”
“Oh yeah…I can feel it throbbing, the pulse. I do that to you?”
“Yeah babe you do,” I chuckle. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too – there’s no one else I’d trust to do this with. God you feel so huge! Fuuu. There. It – …it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. Feels…kinda good, actually, to be full.”
“I can start moving?”
“Fuck yeah,” he replies, getting bold.
I capture his mouth in my own and pull out before pushing back into his body, pressing him against the cool glass of the window. A groan spills from his throat as his ass pulls me in. His swollen cock poking into my stomach dribbles pre-cum down the shaft with every thrust.

I waited two years for him to be ready for intercourse. I used to curse the days I was horny and had nothing to put my dick in, but I’d just tell myself it’d be worth it one day to wait for him. He had to be ready, he had to be horny, he had to offer himself to me; if I rushed it, I would spoil the moment and it’d be lost forever. I’m so glad I waited. My virgin lover has become a man today, not because I was horny, but because he asked me to make him one. He is spread open and hard for me, and taking him is as sweet as I always feverishly fantasized it would be.

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Text is fictional. Photo comes from Mr. Jones Films, and the men are Brandon Jones And Dominic Pacifico. More pictures and trailers at an unofficial link here. Original website is flash, so I can’t direct link, but it’s here.

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As a child, Kevin always slept with a security blanket. He liked the soft fabric against his face, the reassurance of clutching something close. It protected him from monsters under the bed. After his father left quite suddenly, no one came to read him stories at night. Kevin began to carry the blanket everywhere until the time he hit puberty. His mother let him out of pity. Despite being teased for it, Kevin still kept it in his room even through high school. By college, it was falling apart. Kevin put it in a bag and stored it away, even though he missed it at night.

As a young man, Kevin came out and stared dating. His first serious boyfriend in his latter years of college wasn’t good to him. He slowly isolated Kevin from his friends and wrecked him emotionally, often getting violent with him. Kevin was too scared to leave him, and no matter of rough it got, he felt like he needed someone to cuddle with at night.

Until one day, his boyfriend broke Kevin’s cheek. A male nurse at the hospital became quite fond of his new patient and got a social worker involved to help stop cycle the abuse. It took weeks to pry them apart, and he convinced Kevin to get his boyfriend arrested. Kevin was happy it was over, although he had to sleep alone again. Even though he got counseling, he felt the urge to just find someone – anyone – so he wouldn’t have to be alone at night.

James knew he supposed to have a professional relationship with Kevin, but when Kevin asked to see him outside of the hospital he found himself wanting to go. Kevin was a bit of a mess, but he was sweet. He meant well. He loved to read and appreciated good food. The more they got to know each other, the more James began to worry Kevin was headed down the path of abuse again. He gravitated toward any guy who paid attention to him. He would often plead to James to stay the night, not even to have sex, just to sleep.

It wasn’t long before James pried out of Kevin the reason why he hated sleeping alone, his father, his childhood blanket… and why Kevin hated sex so much, because now he associated it all with his old boyfriend. It was hard for therapy to work for him with these distractions undoing his sessions every time he went to bed or got an erection. James did some research, hours of it matter of fact, and came up with a rather unorthodox solution.

“It’s not a blanket, really…,” he explained to a baffled-looking Kevin. “But you’ll always feel the cage there, like a hand around you at all time, but no one will be able to see it. I have the key to the lock. No one like that asshole will be able to touch you unless I approve that they’re good for you, and you don’t have to worry about anything sex related for a while. This way you can just focus on your therapy and healing. That’s all.”
Kevin needed some time to think about it, but he liked James and the liked the idea of being cared for by James. Despite his apprehension, he went for it, and took to it like a duck to water. When he needed some relief, Kevin just went to James, and James took care of it, like a nurse instead of a boyfriend.

As an adult, Kevin stayed in this sort of odd relationship for two years, the device on and off as the months went by. Various men came and went out of Kevin’s life. He was weaned off therapy. Got a “real” job in an office. Took up kayaking on the weekends. Moved out of an apartment and in with James in a small house in the suburbs.

On one particular beautiful morning out to sea, Kevin had a realization while he watched the sun rise over the horizon. He was looking forward to going home and eating brunch with James. Only James. He didn’t want other men. He wanted James, who had been so patient with him. He went beyond the call of his job title to heal him, who had been single this entire time… he had been waiting hadn’t he? Jeez, how did he not realize it?
Just the thought of James excited him. Kevin put a hand between his legs and felt the metal there so it would calm him down. Now wasn’t the time for masturbation, and gosh, even two years late he still thought the chastity cage was amazing. Kevin didn’t get why more men didn’t have one.

He turned his kayak back to shore, closer to where he’d get cell phone service. He wanted to call James and wake him up, ask him to date him, ask him if they could be serious. He knew James would say yes. After all, James had the key to his cock – why couldn’t it be the key to his heart as well?

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Text is fictional. Here’s a cheesy, sweet chastity post to start off the week. The source of the photo I do not think is the actual source listed on this post. I think it’s from here, a femdom participant on Tumblr.

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I walk past the kitchen, back up, then walk past it again. I let my eyes rove over his small ass peeking out between the apron’s sides and admire just how long his legs look when he’s naked.
“Jackson?”
He startles a little as if deep into his own thoughts. “Wha- oh hello. I thought you were watching that TV show you like.”
“I was… er…what are you doing?”
“Making dinner,” he turns and raises an eyebrow at me. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You’re making dinner,” I repeat, in disbelief.
“Yeah I found this recipe involving stuffed bell peppers and orzo – we have to use up all that parsley and you bought that ground bison, so I thought it wasn’t a bad idea. Plus, there was some spinach on sale at the grocery store, and I’ve been wanting to try this walnut strawberry salad I saw on a low carb blog-”
“Woah woah woah.” I take off my glasses, wipe them on my shirt, and then put them back on. “What happened to Jackson? What did you do with him?”

He chuckles. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s Friday night! Normally you beg me to go out with you to the clubs, take drugs you can’t identify, get totally plastered, then call me to rescue you after you’ve wandered off with some hot blokes and come home with a black eye and a wet dick.”
He scoffs while rolling his eyes. “I don’t always do that…”
“Yes, yes you do. Three weeks ago, you left on a Friday and came home on a Sunday – you told me you woke up in Berlin.”
“…Berlin isn’t that far.”
“We live in Denmark.”

He coughs and turns his attention back to the garlic he’s dicing. “Well you know it’s just – I’m horny as fuck, and yeah, I wanna go out, but ever since you put me in chastity, I’ve felt different. Like, once my friends see the bulge of my cage under my tight-ass leather pants, they’re gonna strip me naked and fuck me in front of the entire club. They’re kind of rough blokes, you know? And I’m very particular about who I bottom for. You being the exception.” He punctuates this by pointing the knife in my direction.
“Plus, I’d be so frustrated by not being able to fuck those club boys, and I don’t wanna be seen there as a helpless bitch. Also, I don’t wanna get cum stains on my leather pants.” He shrugs. “I was hungry anyway so I thought I’d just make dinner and maybe you could milk me after? I wanna learn how to do that hands-free thing you talked about earlier.”
“The hands free orgasm?” I ask, dully, still stunned.
“Yeah that! Seems hot.”

I stand there stupidly and watch him prep food. I don’t recall putting a magic spell on that chastity cage. It was supposed to be a 48 hour kink thing we were doing. Since he’s such a fuck up of a boyfriend, if you could even call him that, he often relents out of guilt when I want to try kinkier shit. Still, I had no idea it would be this effective. I thought he’d be giving me a tongue thrashing trying to get the key from me so he could go party with his cock swinging free.

“Um, well,” I begin. “I’m thrilled, to be honest, and damn curious what you’re gonna be making here. Can I help in any way…?”
“You could wash the strawberries and um, maybe play with my ass a little?”
“Oooh that is a reasonable request for a very good boy.” I walk up behind him and give him a hug from the back, wrapping my arms around his waist. I drop one hand to cup his cage between his legs.
“Mmm that’s not what I asked. If you do that, I’m going to get a huge erection and then it’ll hurt.”
I kiss his shoulder and give his ass a little pat. “Alright, alright, sorry, I just …,” I begin, then drop the sentence as I release him and head toward the fridge.
“You just what?” Jackson asks, furrowing his brow.
I bite my lip. “You know what? Nothing. It’s fine. I’m just grateful you’re here.” I hold up the strawberries. “Washed berries and a rim job coming right up.”

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

My boyfriend is adorable. He has a child-like fascination for arts, music, animals, nature. He enjoys a day at the zoo as much as a day at the museum. He’s not scared to try new foods or beers whose names he can’t pronounce or go to unfamiliar cities beyond the subway lines. We often spend entire days together, wandering from place to place, having little adventures instead of dates.

Thing is, my boyfriend has a moderate form of chronic fatigue syndrome. After our time together he often just simply cannot make it home or stand any longer. Instead of just calling him a cab and shoving him in, I lovingly carry him all the way back to the car or back to one of our flats. He clings to me like a koala, often falling asleep with his head nestled against my shoulder.

I’m proud to be his man. He told me his other boyfriends got bored and frustrated with his condition; he rarely left the house. The fact that I can make him smile and help him live a normal life is part of the reason I love him so much. He is so positive and optimistic, that I cannot help but be in a good mood around him. I don’t mind the stares of people as I carry my boyfriend down the street. I want them to know what love looks like, in any form.

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Text is fictional

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spacerobotfive:

A midday nap in his arms.

The room had originally been half sun-room, half parlor, a small walled off addition in his aunt’s Victorian-era apartment for visiting guests to drink tea and gossip. In these recent times, it housed storage, a collection of light hungry plants, and a small bed for over-night guests. It was our home now, and that little niche was our space. After Matt’s parents kicked him out for being gay, I ran away from foster care with him to his aunt’s home two hours away. Matt called her in tears; she immediately bought us a bus ticket and told us to get our butts on it. We arrived with a duffel bag each, hungry and exhausted, but holding hands and smiling.

She’d set us up in this tiny room and let us have our privacy. It wasn’t going to be easy. I needed to finish my GED since I failed my senior year; we needed to get our footing and pick a direction for us to go. My baby, Matt, I’m so proud of him though. He’s from a wealthy family and never had to want for anything, but the morning after we arrived he went and got himself a job serving at a diner. I knew it couldn’t have been easy on his pride, his confidence. Did I mention how much I love him? It’s hard to know at this age if “love” is “forever love” or just “stupid love”, but I think it’s a little of both.

Matt got back from working the early breakfast shift and went right to bed for a nap. He was so worn-out. I took a break from doing chores, intending to reward him for his hard work with slow, lazy sex, but he was already asleep. My poor Matt. I spoon up next to him, wiggling my arms around his shoulders.
“Hey,” he mutters, more of a grunt than anything, but the corner of his lip goes up.
“Sorry didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, kissing the back of his neck, “You’re so nice and warm though.”
“Mmm, itsh nice. Love you,” he smiles again, before drifting back off. It’s the beginning of a wonderful afternoon nap together, like two lazy cats in the sun. When he’ll stir a a couple hours later, I intend to greet him with lube and a condom and make slow love to him. Wake him up with my hand between his legs. He loves that, when he’s in just the right mood.

Of course, my chores might not get done in time, but we need to make sure we take time for each-other. I worry that we’ll become so obsessed with ‘making it’ on our own that we’ll lose focus of why we’re doing it. Matt is my reason. I am his. I sniff the back of his neck. It smells faintly of strawberry conditioner, diner coffee, and him. God, I love this boy. I hope this really is the start to the long, long story of us. 

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Text is fictional. Been trying to caption this picture for months and am pleased with the results.

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There was someone in my bed again. I groaned. That meant I’d caved in and taken E at that club. Every time I take E, I end up taking some stranger home. Last month, I also took home syphilis. I cracked open an eye, wincing, to see what sort of creature had fucked my sore ass last night ….and ended up just staring at a wall of muscle. A six pack…no, an eight pack? maybe? He had a torso like you’d see on a statute in a museum, something carved out of flesh colored marble. I gawked, until a deep buttery voice said, “Hey you awake?”

I looked up into the face of the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Solid, cut jaw, aqualine nose, high cheekbones, perfectly shaped cinnamon eyebrows over bright tea colored eyes. I worked my own jaw, unable to form sentences. “I um – I…yeah.”
“Good, how do you feel?”
Horny? Dizzy? Baffled? “Like there’s cotton in my head…” I sat up, rubbing my temples. It was then I realized I was not in my room and I froze, looking around. “Shit, where am I? How hard did I party last night? Why do I always take E…whywhywhy…”
Mr. Sexy sat up next to me and said, “It wasn’t E. Someone put GHB in your drink last night. I punched the guy in the face, got him arrested, then took you home.”
I stare. “I didn’t pick you up – you rescued me?”
“Yeah,” he says, grinning sheepishly.
“Then why is my ass sore, did he- did you -”
“No no, you uh, tried to sit down on some steps outside my apartment building and ending up dropping yourself right on your tailbone.”
I search his face, seeking any signs of him fibbing, but found only honestly…and a cute smile. “Well thank you Mr….”
“Kennington.”
“…Wait, of Kennington Law Group?”
“That’s the one,” he sighs.
“What’s your first name?”
“Rutherford.” He cringes, “Most people call me Rudy.”
I chuckle, “You don’t really like that either?”
“No.”
“What about Ken?”
He pauses, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair, “Yeah, Ken’s alright.”
“Well Ken, thank you for rescuing me. A true gentleman. If I may, I’d like to reward you, go home with a purposely sore ass,” I offered, placing a hand on his thigh.
His eyebrow goes up, and he chews on his lip. Despite his half hard-on under the sheets, he replies, “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea, you could blackmail me something….being semi famous makes me paranoid. I wish though, I haven’t gotten laid in months.”
“Fine.” I look around and find a notepad and pen in the night stand drawer. In hasty font I scribble: ‘I give my consent to let R. Kennington fuck my brains out,’ and scribbled my signature. “There.”
Ken takes it, looking bemused. “Well, no one can argue with this. Alright, let’s get some fluids into you, and some food, and then you can reward me?”
“Mmm,” I nibble his shoulder, grazing a hand over his defined chest, “Not sure if I can wait…”
He reaches behind me and squeezes my ass, “You will wait, I don’t want you passing out on me.”
A thrill ran through me. “Yes sir,” I purr.
He grins. I can tell he likes that. I can tell he likes me. The only downside to the three hours of incredible, masculine sex we had was that I couldn’t tell anyone about my catch afterwards. When I saw my friends again, I had to make up a fake story, about E and a one night stand, all while Ken’s phone number lingered in my pocket. My pocket, where all the condoms were, now empty.

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Text is fictional.

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I went to stay with my Uncle Jim because my parents were fighting so much. Uncle Jim lived with this guy named Antoine. My parents used to say bad things about them, but I didn’t really understand how they could be right. Uncle Jim and Antoine were incredibly nice people, kept to themselves. I could talk to Uncle Jim about anything when my parents were being scary or mom had too much to drink, even at 3 am, curled up in the bathroom with the phone.

When I moved in, I thought I’d be sleeping on the sofa but it seemed Uncle Jim and Antoine moved into the same room together so I could have the guest room. It looks like they did it a while ago. Maybe they anticipated I’d be coming? I settled in. Got back in school.

One night, about three weeks into my staying there, I was about to go to bed when I realized I’d forgotten to do the problems for math class. Too distracted by a history paper. I’d left my math notebook in my backpack by the front door, so I left my room to go get it. From the hallway, I saw something I thought maybe I shouldn’t have seen.

Antoine was on top of Uncle Jim and kissing him. It wasn’t an accident; it was in a very specific way. They were pressed together in their underwear. Uncle was massaging Antoine’s ass with his hands; Antoine was groaning. I bit my lip, trying not to make even a sound by breathing. I slowly, slowly tip-toed back to my room and closed the door with great care. I could do the problems in the morning before class. I sat down on my bed and thought about what I’d just seen, and then it hit me.

When mom and dad used to call Uncle Jim a “fag”, they weren’t calling him a wuss, they were insulting him for being gay. And Uncle Jim and Antoine hadn’t moved into the same room together, they slept in the same bed already because… “they’re a couple.” I said it out loud. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense – the way they acted together, sat next to each other. How could I have not seen it before? It was so obvious. They were in love, so in love. And they welcomed me here, to live with them. I exhaled slowly. I heard a groan even through my door and turned red.

They thought I was asleep. I should act like I am, not say a word. I got into bed and turned out the light but I didn’t sleep for a long time. I was up thinking about how two men could love each other with the same intensity that my parents hated each other. I had never really thought about how I felt about gay men before.. but when I finally fell asleep at 2 in the morning, I still wanted to stay.

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Text is fictional. The men are Nubius and Scorpio – not even kidding – from nextdoorebony.com