Having trouble sleeping, have some butt.
Aww, it’s cute. I have the urge to doodle some flowers on it or something. Would look nice covered in henna too.
Tag: dat ass
“Ahah, your ass is like a bowl of chilled Jell-o!”
“Look at what I can do. Hit it again!”
“Well it is practically begging me-”
The old lady next door puts down her binoculars and curses at them, “Damn heathens!! Sin! You are sinners! You are going to hell!”
Mark yelled back out the window at her, “YEAH AND WE’LL HAVE GAY SEX THERE TOO!” before slamming it shut. “Now where was I?”
“Jiggling my ass?”
“Oh yes.” Smack.
Fulcrum.
This is again Sergei Polunin, a Ukranian ballet dancer, photographed by Bryan Adams for Zoo Magazine. More here.
After setting up the tumblr and browsing for two hours, locked up for safety
Good boy. Pure and safe, indeed. That cage looks so natural on you, why take it off ever?
“Oh my god, Becky, look at that butt, it is so big.”
Practicing my tail wagging, or grinding on the carpet?
It better be the first one. A good pup doesn’t hump the furnishings.
“Ok you’re the resident gay guy here right?”
I peer up from an issue of GQ. “Uh. Unofficially I suppose since Campy Steve transferred. If you’re going to ask me if your dick is the wrong size, don’t bother. Your dick is fine as it is.” I return my attention to the article on handmade boots when he pipes up again.
“No no not that…it’s my ass.”
“What about your ass?” I tilt my head.
“I just wanna know if it’s flat. I was looking in the mirror and it has like, no definition. My sister says men should have a butt because it implies they’re masculine, and I’ve become self conscious about it.”
Well, I’ve spent enough time secretly eye-fucking him, I should be able to write him an essay on his ass. Instead I non-nonchalantly pop my gum and respond, “You need to get your pants tailored. They sag in the back and I can’t see your ass at all. Tailored clothes are the trick to lookin’ good.”
I was expecting a perky response and the subject to be dropped. Art Pearson was quiet for a moment so I try to find where I left off for the second time. Just when I locate the paragraph, I hear the rustle of fabric.
“Ok what about now? Just tell me if it’s flat."My jaw drops and my gum falls onto my lap. My roommate was standing by the window with his pants around his thighs like a little boy at a urinal. Ok, everything I suspected about his ass was wrong. How had navy wool hid such a soft bubble butt from me for four months? It was lovely, the curve, the tone, how it was perched on his solid thighs. The apricot flesh was warm and dotted with freckles.
It wasn’t the ass of a boot-camp hardened sailor and gym rat. It was the ass of a man that participated in boot-camp for a career in administration so he’d always have a reliable source of income to fund a ravenous appetite for romance novels and eating after-dinner chocolates snuggled under a plush blanket. The urge to squeeze it is overwhelming. The words will not come out of my mouth; I have to pull my knees up to hide a half hard erection.
"You’re not saying anything,” Pearson laments. “Is it that bad huh? You can’t even find it can you?”
I put my gum back in my mouth, “No it’s uh… ok now do I say this? If you were my boyfriend, you’d never be allowed pants in the house.”
Pearson glances over at his shoulder, “…Really?”
“Oh yeah your ass is flawless. Please put your pants up you’re giving me an erection.”
Blush spreads on his cheeks, the flattery all over his face. “My ass is turning you on?” he gasps.I shut my magazine and shove it over my lap. “Yes! Dammit, stop that.”
Art drops his hands and bends over to pull up his pants, in the process flashing just a peek of his balls at me. I suppress a groan. He doesn’t even notice and says with a casual air, “I suppose being given a compliment by a gay man is the highest compliment I could have received on my butt.”
I rub my jaw and jest. “I don’t know if we can continue being roommates now with you knowin’ my secret weakness for cute asses ‘n’ all.”
Art considers this. “Well now I’m curious about what you think of my package too…”
I am so close to throwing the magazine at his head. His innocence is making me crazy. How has he survived the machismo-heavy Navy mentality? “Art if you show me your cock I’m going to want to touch it,” I warn. “I’ve had a crush on you for like forever, and if you’re straight I don’t think it’s a good idea to bait me like that.”
Pearson just stares at me. I think I broke his brain. I know zilch about his sexuality or his type – he’s a bookworm, not a Chatty Kathy – so my default hunch is that he’s hetero. Assuming anything else in this barrack is a terrible idea. “Art…” I begin, but he interrupts me.
“Well…I was just thinking, in an abstract sort of way,” he says, considering each word. “If you’re a gay man, you know your way around the male body pretty well…”
Oh dear god, I’m in a real live porno.
“…so in theory wouldn’t you give better handjobs than a chick? Cause all the girls I’ve done them with have given me rug burns and blue balls.”
Cue the bow-chicka-bow-wow music. “Um.” My brain is refusing to participate in providing in an articulate answer. Little did I know, Art had been wondering such a thing since he found out about my preference for my own gender and was excited to have found a chance to bring it up in a discussion.
“I’m sorry that was weird, forgot I said anything,” Art murmurs, reacting to my underwhelming response. He motions he’s about to button up his pants.
“No no! I just…all the blood is no longer in my brain Pearson, Christ, I feel like I just fell down the rabbit hole. Lock the door and get over here. I’m going to give you a special foray into my talents as a gay man and give that neglected ass some long needed attention.” I instruct before pausing, “If this is some sort of bizarre wet dream I just hope it lasts.”
Art holds up his britches while scooting over to secure the door, “No it’s not a dream…but it’s exciting isn’t it? My first gay experience as a straight man…”
“Honey I’m pretty sure your Kinsey rating is an even number.”
He blinks at me. “My what now?”
I toss the magazine onto the nightstand and pull out the bottle of massage oil slash lube. “Oh Art,…I am going to be the best thing to ever happen to you. Now come here, I’m going to rock your world.”
Patiently waiting for his Sir to come home. Not simply because the boy is horny, but because he adores his Sir and misses him. Submission need not be highly sexual. It is a devotion to another. It can be a form of love.
Henry has his own spots around the house, his pillow in the living room, his futon next to Sir’s bed, his customary spot under the table, but this one is his favorite. The view isn’t much, just the porch railings and some buildings outside but it’s the sounds that matter. Here is the only spot where he can hear Sir’s bicycle as it comes down the alley to the garage. There are a lot of bikes in Amsterdam but over months Henry learned to distinguish the sound of tires and brakes and pick his Sir out of them all. The anticipation is the best part, both the waiting for the right sound with his head tilted and the long seconds between Sir putting his bike away in the mudroom and coming up the stairs. Henry will bound to the door, wiggling and turning in impatient circles.
All those hours apart have left the sub missing his Sir and so eager to see him again. The house is clean, rugs beaten, dinner prep is done, the plants are watered, there’s fresh sheets on the bed and so many other little things. Henry just wants to feel a heavy hand on his head and those short nails scratching his scalp behind his ear and be told what a good boy he is.
When Sir comes through the door he presses himself up against his slacks and nuzzles his crotch murmuring a “Welcome home Sir”, oblivious to his cock dripping all over his shoe. The new jockstrap helps with the leaking, but only so much when he gets excited. Henry is kept locked so often, he often forgets about it until he’s forced to lick the mess off his Sir’s Oxfords. He often hopes his Sir will give him an opportunity to pleasure him but Sir says a horny boy is an obedient one. Henry understands, but he hasn’t been exercised yet today and is full of energy and cum and joy that his Master is home so he’s a bit hard to control. Luckily, Sir always knows what to do.
“I’m home boy, hello. Woah, hello!” he caresses his sub’s head, “Down boy. Down. Good boy. Now, go to the bedroom and get on the bed position 2. You can lick my shoes clean later, I’m horny as hell!” he commanded as he loosened his tie.
“Yes sir!” Henry is gone in a flash.
Late night ballet reblog time…
You could bounce a quarter off that ass and get nickels and dimes back in change. Check out his calf muscle too, wow.
So I’ve been doing some squats and stuff.
That’s some hot, smooth body filling that cute underwear!
That ass is out of this world (hahaha).