If you take care of his hole well and tame his sex drive, he’ll want you to take care of him for the rest of his life. Sometimes bottoms get dumb when they’re horny but even they know that when they find a good fitting cock attached to a gorgeous man, it’d be foolish to let it get away.
Master has a new puppy he been training for the past few weeks,
It sometimes takes a FIRM stance to teach a pup confused about his place in the world what it means to be RESPECTFUL
Love a pup looking up who reveres his Master and is so eager for every command and chance at his cock.
I know, I know. Religion is outdated, atheism is in. Americans are shedding their faith faster than last’s seasons iPhone. I mean, I get it – if you try to take the Bible literally it’s impossible to accept from a logical standpoint. It’s the message though that I like. I don’t see anything wrong though with believing that some great, divine power guides nature and humanity, using the universe as a cosmic canvas. When life falls apart or seems uncertain, I love to go to church and bask in the light streaming through stained-glass windows. It reminds me to not worry about things I cannot control, to accept things I cannot change, and it invigorates me to make what improvements I can.
There is one school of religious thought that I still cling to though. Purity. The whole concept of “my body is a temple”. Technically, I was born in this world with one biological purpose – to reproduce with a female counterpart – but the Divine Power gave me a special assignment. I turned out homosexual, with interest and lust towards men only. Although with science’s advancements and adoption, I could very well still reproduce, but is no longer my primary function. I did not know exactly what it is.
I was confused for many years because I also did not understand why the Divine Power would reassign my purpose but allow me to keep my penis and testicles and sex drive. One morning while listening to the choir sing hymns, the answer to my question of purpose came to me. Love. Even if I was not destined to reproduce, the Divine Power wanted me to go forth and share the awesomeness of world through the lens of love. I figured that two people bonded as soulmates that shared sexual energy would be a better conduit of this power than a solo individual. Love was the difference between being *in* the universe and *part* of the universe.
I could still give my body and virginity to someone I cherished. It would be a gift I could only give once, though, and I felt great responsibility to protect it. Perhaps I’m just silly. Perhaps it’s all in my head, that I’ve over-estimated my own importance. Deep down, I know I’m weak. I need the reassurance that there is a plan for me. I need faith.
So, that is why I locked myself up. I do not believe masturbation is a misdeed, I just worry that if I became complacent with my cock I would take advantage of it and slowly lose the magic behind intimacy. When you experience an orgasm, your whole body becomes an unstoppable engine of hormones and muscle. I don’t think people appreciate it enough. When I finally bed the right man who will take my virginity, I want it to be ceremonial. I want each climax to be a religious experience. I want to wake up the next morning feeling enlightened and new.
I am still young though, and that man will come. For now, I still go to church on Sunday and take long, solitary walks under the stars and keep my hands off my cock.
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Text is fictional. Source has been deleted.
PSA: My special writing sale/fundraiser is still ongoing~
Reginald tips the houseboy for loading the car properly. The houseboy really wishes Reginald would just fuck him; his cock surely has be nestled in the most pretty blond curls.
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Text is fictional. Watermarked.
Sebastian knew he was not allowed to touch his Master’s musical equipment. He could only run a feather duster over their surfaces. A lot of it was very valuable, some probably more valuable than he was as a replaceable houseboy. Yet, out of everything, the keyboard tempted him the most. He went to close the window because rain was on the way, and lo and behold, the keyboard was right there. He was mulling over the temptation to press them and didn’t hear his Master wake up from his nap.
The notes of Für Elise drifting down the hallway were unmistakable. Sebastian’s Master knew instantly his boy was breaking a cardinal rule. He caught him red handed, guilt all over his face. Sebastian knew it was against the rules and had done it anyway, had given into temptation.
Sebastian tried to smooth this over by placing his hands against the wall and pushing out his ass, assuming the spanking position. His Master stood behind him for a moment, quiet, until he said just one word: “Why?”
“Instruments were meant to be played Sir…I’m sorry I gave into temptation, Sir.”
His Master sighed. “Well I am disappointed. You know I don’t like anyone else’s fingerprints but mine on my instruments. At least your Für Elise was on point. You are going to get a spanking, boy. Face forward.” Sebastian heard him rustling around. “Now you can’t see this, but in my hand is a tuning device. When I strike you, you will tell me which note it sounds like. You’re getting 25. For every missed answer, you will get another swat, doubling your number. For every right answer, you’ll get five minutes to masturbate under my supervison.”
Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “Sir that’s-!”
“A challenge? Yes. If you think you are so accomplished at music that it excuses putting a houseboy’s fingerprints on my things, I want evidence.”
Sebastian groaned. He really did know better and felt stupid the had no one to blame for this but himself. Still, a part of him was impressed at his Master’s creativity and brilliance in keeping him in line.
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Text is fictional.
If you do a search for “hot guys armchairs” in Tumblr, you get four results and all of the men in armchairs are naked with their legs spread open, erections on display. Ok then. Guess that’s the only thing you can do in an armchair. Good to know.
“What is your houseboy doing?” Reginald asks, twisting in his patio chair to get a look at the source of the sound of someone making loud raspberries.
I crane my neck to find Oren through the guests mingling in my spacious backyard. “…I have no idea. Whatever it is, it’s not what he’s supposed to be doing. He knows better, what on Earth is he up to?”
Will, who is standing off to the side behind Reginald starts snickering, then as he watches Oren dissolves into laughter.
“What is so funny Will?” Reginald insists. “You know something don’t you? …You do! What is it?”
“Will, what did you do my boy?” I rise from my chair.
It takes Will a few moments to compose himself, because every time he looks at me he loses it again. I’m about to throw a shoe at him when he finally spits it out. “I gave him one of the pot brownies! The strong ones, that Linda made for your brother.”
Color rises in my face. “What? What? You DRUGGED him?” Reginald rushes to his feet to keep me from punching Will. “YOU DRUGGED Oren? You asshole. Those weren’t your brownies, those were for Dean! And you gave him drugs for the first time without any supervision, and you violated the rule of not feeding him! I told you he’s hypoglycemic – sweets have to be – ..why am I talking to you about this? You have 30 seconds to leave my property of you will be escorted off.”
I turn my back to him and rush over to Oren. It’s quite obvious he’s gotten something in his system – the dopey look on his face, the vague sheen to his eyes. “Hey Sir.” He drawls. “Look how green this is…it’s like really green. And it vibrates when I do this.” He blows a raspberry on it again. “Pretty cool,” he giggles.
A couple guests stare. I gently work the balloon from his fingers and sigh. “Oren, did you eat a brownie?”
He looks confused, and shuffles his feet. “Will said you wanted me to eat it, Sir. Said you said to keep my blood sugar up.”
“Will is a lying bastard, and those brownies had pot in them.”
“Ohh…that explains why I feel weird.” He pokes the balloon in my hands and starts giggling.
“Are you going to faint?”
Oren doesn’t answer, he just keeps petting the balloon.
Reginald chimes in. “He’s bloody useless.”
“Great,” I sigh. “My houseboy is high, and there is no one to watch my guests.”
Reginald puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of them, make sure everyone is watered and the trash is cleared. You take care of Oren.”
I give him a grateful look. “Many thanks Reginald. Is Will gone?”
He glances around. “Yes. That bastard. I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have invited him.”
“You can’t always know how people will act, Reg, don’t worry. I’m just…concerned, mostly. Alright, Oren, come with me.”
“But,….it’s so pretty out here.”
I take a deep breath and count to 3. Apparently being high has made him completely disregard all his training. I’m both furious at being disrespected and irritated because it’s not entirely his fault. “Ok, why don’t I take you around to the garden and have you rest in the hammock?”
“Ooo….hammock.”
He’s allowed to nap there when he’s good, but the rules are moot now – I just need him to cooperate. I get him some water, and to my relief, he allows me to escort him away from the party and to somewhere more quiet.
When I come back, I’m deeply relieved to see Reginald making nice with everyone and the catering tables look flawless. I host questions from concerned guests for several minutes before I have another moment alone with Reginald.
“Is he alright?” my best friend inquires.
“Yes, just napping, thankfully. Thank you so much for covering, Reg, I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem at all. Least I can do.”
He hands me a glass of lemonade and I sip it. “…It’s kind of funny though isn’t it?” I chuckle.
“Oh my god, when he was blowing raspberries on the balloon I was trying so hard not to lose it,” Reginald admits.
I can’t help but smile about this silliness now that the anger has passed. “You missed that when I got him into the hammock, I wouldn’t give him the balloon back at first and he said to me – ‘Dude, why you hating on my balloon?’ in this super indignant voice.”
Reginald covers his face with one hand and cracks up. “Oh god, I’m never going to look at Oren straight-faced again!”
“YOU?” I gasp. His laughter is contagious and I’m catching up. “Tomorrow I have to explained to a very disciplined and soon to be very horrified houseboy that he nearly left me for a balloon – and he called his Sir ‘dude’.”
We both dissolve into hysterics and have to sit down in the patio chairs again to recover.
When Oren emerged from the gardens later after the party ended, Reginald and I sat with him on the grass and fed him munchies off paper plates. In the end, I wasn’t able to bring myself to punish Oren. We figured that Oren’s eventual embarrassment toward his behavior was punishment enough – and it was. I still tease him about calling me ‘dude’ though, which makes him squirm in the most adorable way.
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Text is fictional. Photographs by Richard Rothstein. More from the set here.
A typical Friday night of foosball and football on the TV becomes that special night when you finally get that boy. When a playful kiss ends up more than just an impulse, and suddenly you’re allowed to undress him and his penis is jutting out in front of his body expecting your attention. Something about seeing his cock and balls hanging and protruding on display turns any doubts about this off, and your brain puts all other functions on ‘hibernate’ so it can devote all its energy to sex.
You get your arms around him, cradling his torso, one hand sliding down to his thigh. You want his cock, and he wants you to have it. He’s acting like a woman, parting his legs, trying to encourage you to give attention to his pussy. It turns you on in dizzying, incredible ways to know that a man is expecting you to take him, that he’s silently accepted you as the dominant one.
The high lasts for nearly an hour, a two man orgy of touching, caressing, kissing, and sucking. Not an inch left unexplored, no erogenous zone neglected. The sex lasts maybe ten minutes but you know the penetration is just the finale. By the time you reach the breeding, the pulling his hips flush with yours so you can get deeper in him part, you are just an animal recreating what your ancestors have been doing for millennia.
He’s very hot, and very malleable in your hands. His penis feels like a silk flower in your fingers, his balls soft permissions heavy on the branch. Wetness is everywhere.
The next morning you both convince yourselves it was a dream and never reconnect on Fridays again. You don’t see each other for nearly 15 years, until one day he finds you online, and messages you out of the blue: “Do you still wonder if it was real or not?”
Your heart leaps at his message and you reply: “Every day.”
“Do you ever wish it were real?”
“Every day.”
“555-921-8266.”
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Text is fictional. Need the source please.
“…Jet?”
Jet smiled at the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. “Hey Chris, nice to hear from you again – is everything alright?” Despite their failed attempt at a relationship, Jet considered Chris to be a friend, albeit a distant one.
“I um… shit, I feel like such an idiot calling you. Am I bothering you?”
“No, just at home, organizing my bookshelf. It’s pouring out, so I’m just chilling here on my day off. What’s up?”
There was a pause. “I just…shit this is so dumb. You said to call me if I ever needed anything. You still mean that?”
Jet furrowed his brow, curiosity eating him up. “Yeah of course. …Are you in jail?”
Chris made a noise. “What? No no, it’s nothing like that. It’s …well, when we broke up, I was not in a good place. I hated myself and convinced myself I needed to push you away. You know how I was, when I was horny I’d put out, then freak out the next morning over what I did – over and over again, let it eat me up inside?”
Jet sighed. He didn’t want to open this wound, really. Chris had explained it far too mildly for his taste. Chris was an insatiable cockslut when the testosterone was pumping and poppers were plentiful; but sober and sane, the guilt, disgust, and Catholic self-loathing over his preference of sex and eagerness to bottom put him in a horrible, rotten mood and spoiled his personality. He’d put Jet through the wringer, leading him on, then shutting him off. “How could I not?” Jet said. “It’s all we fought about for the last weeks of our relationship.”
Chris sighed back. He sat down on the bed and the springs creaked. “I just…you know, I’ve been thinking I owe you an apology. I’ve been thinking a lot. I drank a lot you left – too much actually, and woke up after having blacked out in a church. Our priest got me some help, a great therapist who specializes in LGBT lifestyles… I’m coming to terms with things, Jet, I really am.”
Jet was so stunned, he almost forgot he had to answer the man. “I um. Wow, damn, Chris. That’s amazing to hear. Not expecting it, to be honest, but happy you’re making progress. But if this is a call to get back together I don’t think I’m really ready to try another relationship with y-”
“No, no Jet, listen. I’ve been with some other guys, having some one night stands-”
Jet hated the surge of jealously that shot through him.
“-and none of them have given me such thorough orgasms the way you did. I’ve tried so many techniques, but I just can’t get that empty feeling afterwards like when we had sex!” His voice twisted with frustration. “I’ve tried everything and even though I jack off a lot, I still feel so pent up! I-…I’m calling to ask you to fuck me, Jet, that’s it, please. Just one good thorough fucking, to get it all out.”
“Jesus, Chris, you called cause you need cock? You baited me with pretty words and apologies so I’d fuck you?” Jet was now completely ignoring the books around him. “And then what? You’re going to just dismiss me?”
Chris huffed. “Look, I’ve had other guys since you, as I’ve said, some with poppers, some with out. You…you have this insane technique. Sex with you was a totally intense and powerful experience. I was addicted to it, but I wasn’t ready to handle it at all. You’re on a totally ‘nother level than other men. You’re the kind of sex that a man comes home to for the rest of his life. You’re not a club fuck. That’s why we were so incompatible. I wasn’t ready for that kind of sex, emotionally, but I was addicted. I pushed you away because it just left me reeling. I thought I could get it from others but, shit, I’ve had the taste though and nothing compares. Please Jet – my balls, they’re aching man, milk me dry, please.”
Jet sat there with his jaw on the floor. This wasn’t the same Chris he’d left behind ten months ago. He didn’t know what to say. It was mean to tempt him like this. Chris’s ass fit around his cock like it was born for it. Jet’s cock was curved, but Chris was a perfect fit, and the way he grabbed onto him… as much as he resented him, Chris was the only partner he’d had that made him see stars.
After a long silence on Jet’s part, Chris added, “If…you need some commitment, but only want to go half way, maybe we could be fuck buddies, at least. No strings attached, so if you hate me still, you don’t have to stay. You could probably even spank me if you want. I know I deserve it.”
Jet liked that idea more than he would admit it. He wanted to spank him impaled on his cock, and god he did deserve it. “Fuck. Just fuck you man, calling me like this, manipulating me, dangling your body as bait. Get the hell over here. Bring the condoms and the lube, cause you aren’t using any of mine.”
Chris gasped, “Alright! Shit, thanks man. I’m coming right now.”
It was like a day hadn’t past since Chris left. He was still handsome and young, sporting a goofy grin and the scar above his eyebrow from a childhood bike accident. Jet tore his clothes off and pushed him onto the sofa, getting that big ass of his in the air.
No one could fuck Chris like Jet did. Only Jet could give him that incredible, slow steady rhythm, each inward thrust nudging against his prostate. It made him drip like crazy. All the pent up energy, frustration from imperfect fucks, it all dissolved like butter on a skillet. Jet cleared him out. He filled him wall to wall and fucked him hard.
Chris reached between his legs to milk himself, and the pre-cum poured out of his body. He moaned and keened over how goddamn great it felt to be fucked by this god of a man. Chris’s dick got so slippery, he could barely hang onto it. When the orgasm finally crested, he shot a triple XL load all over the bed while screaming Jet’s name into the pillow. His balls burned from the effort, his cock spasming and twitching to empty every single tiny seed. On top of him, Jet couldn’t get a word out of his throat, just animalistic grunts and cries as he bred his man hard. He suddenly knew why the break-up had been harder than any other in his life – Chris was his bitch, his mate. His other half. Maybe now Chris had fucking realize it, and just maybe they could try again…
but he would get all the sex he could out of the man before he told him that. He wouldn’t let Chris win that easily.
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Text is fictional. The gif was made by fagsmut, but the source for it isn’t them, so I don’t know who these men are. Lemme know if you know, I wanna see the video.
This slave isn’t scared of milking machines, getting the strap, e-stim devices, long chastity, or serving 10 men at once… but at any utterance of the word “dentist”, all his training gets defenestrated and he’s pulling on his leash to stay in the house. His Master couldn’t just let his slave have bad teeth, so he came up with a creative solution.
The slave is bound to a metal support rail so he can safely sedated. A spider gag is put into place, as well as a chastity cage. Once the tranquilizer has kicked in, then the slave is transferred to the dentist’s office in a crate in his master’s car. Long after most of the staff have gone home, the dentist lets them in through the back. The slave is then bound to the exam room chair like this, naked and gagged, because it’s the only way Dr. Singh can finally get in there and clean those teeth.
Any cavities will be seen as negligence of his Master’s property and will result in a spanking for the slave, but usually the boy keeps up with flossing and brushing. All that fighting and planning is usually for nothing but a mere cleaning!
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Text is fictional. Picture obviously comes from the infamous boundgods.com.