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perdersiperpotersiritrovare:

Oh

God what is with that guy? Why is he so hot? I mean, I’m hot and I’m jealous. His body isn’t even as toned as mine. But he’s so fucking hot. He should be a model. Or a porn star. Or both. He should be famous for sure. But if he were famous he would move away and I couldn’t watch him from my window. Man, look at him stretch… love watching him stretch and work that body. So long and lean. Such good lines. His skin tone is just beautiful.
Yeah, he’s fucking hot. God what is with me? I haven’t gotten the urge to do guys since college. This guy makes me want to fuck him though. I want to just bend him over and just…dominate him. Christ, he gets under my skin.
Hm. Would I bottom for him? I don’t really bottom, but…god maybe if he asked. He’s
that hot. I think I’d just forget how to speak English if he talked or me, or if I saw him in real life. God why the fuck is he so hot? I can’t get anything done when he’s out there on the balcony. Shit, I’m not going to get my life back until I turn him into a drooling, cummy mess. I would wreck that body. I would change the way he walks for a day. Fuck yeah. I don’t even care if he’s gay. I’m sure he’d let me fuck him. Or hump him. Yeah, I’d settle for that. Just to own that dick. That dick is mine. God, he’s so gorgeous. I’ve never met a woman that gorgeous.

Shit, my girlfriend would be really mad if she heard me say that.

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Captions are fictional. Who is this man?? A knowledge reader has informed me this is fitness model Kaz van der Waard.

Thank you reader~

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The photo was followed by a rather terse text message: “OK. I agreed to pay you AND took a photo of me posing almost naked with a bottle of Tide over my junk. NOW will you come over and help me for fucks sake?”

Taylor howled at how angry Mark looked. Taylor had just moved into a new place with his new Daddy, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before Mark realized just how much Ty did around the apartment. Taylor didn’t mind housekeeping, nor did he mind doing things for men he thought were particularly hot and might fuck him later, but over time it became obvious that Mark was just taking advantage of him – and he lied about being bi. Dude was straight as they came.

So once Ty met someone, he gave 30 days and moved out. Ty gave warning – “you know we won’t be able to do our laundry together once I move out’ – but Mark brushed him off. Ty suspected Mark thought he’d just find some girlfriend to do it for him, but his current girl, Stacey, was a fierce law student and didn’t have time to play maid for him.

Ty had enjoyed every pleading text message from Mark. Ty’s new man said it wasn’t nice for a boy to tease and be rude to another man who had made mistakes, but that didn’t mean Ty couldn’t get a little fun out of the situation. That picture was worth it alone.

“Ok ok, fine. I’ll come help you get the apartment fixed up, per hourly rate I suggested. I’ll be there in an hour. After this, you’ll have to hire a maid.”
“Yeah yeah, I’ll get around to that later.,” Mark texted back. “Just get over here.”
Ty rolled his eyes. Mark needed a Daddy of his own to fix that procrastination habit of his and to fix his snarky attitude. A rather naughty idea popped into Ty’s head. He knew where Stacey went to class in the morning. He wondered how much talking it would take to plant some seeds in her head about how she could boss Mark into shape…

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Captions are fictional.

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“Are you taking a picture of my abs?” Ezra asks.
“Maybe,” I respond, teasing him a little. “All the pictures of the lake will look the same, but you’re hot at every angle.”
“oh come off it!” Ezra laughs, “I am not. I’m just a skinny nerdy, Jewish guy. I’m pre-med even!”
“Who says skinny Jewish medical nerds can’t be hot?”
“Me?” Ezra says.
“Don’t they teach you anything in Hebrew school?” I tsk. “Here, pose on the back of the boat so I can get you and the lake in on one shot.”
“Ok ok,” Eztra says.
I smile. Our third date is going really well. He’s a fun guy, and I had enough photos of those abs to keep my spank bank full for a while. I watch as he poses like a pin-up girl. “That’s a hell of a shot!” I flash him a thumps up and fire a few frames from my DSLR.
“Come show me what they look like,” Ezra says.
I walk over to the back of my boat and show him the viewfinder.
“Oh god,” Ezra groans with a laugh. “I look ridiculous. And skinny. And I have that weird fur thing on top of my chest.“
I scoff. “Nonsense. You need to embrace your inner otter.”
Ezra snorts. “My what?”
“Your inner otter. Skinny, fuzzy, and gay.”
“…well I am all those things.”
“Oh, and something else too,” I note, setting my camera aside.
“What?”
I grin and pull his sunglasses of his face. “Otters also like water.” And then I shove him into the lake.

When Ezra surfaces, I’m laughing my ass off. He sputters, looking pissed and amused at the same time. “HEY!” he shouts.
“Bet you feel nice and cool now huh?”
“Yes, but that isn’t the point!” he insists, trying to be mad but laughing despite himself. “You pushed me in, you conniving bastard.”
“I did,” I say, giving him a hand back into the boat. “But it was for a noble purpose.”

Ezra raises an eyebrow, not believing me. “Uh huh. What purpose is that?”
“Why Ezra, can’t you tell? I’m a sexually deviant older gay man with a crush on you.”
He blushes appropriately.
“I just wanted an excuse to get you to change out of your shorts and maybe see you naked.”
Ezra can’t stop grinning. “You want to see ME naked?”
“Been wanting you since the moment I saw you. By the way, if you hadn’t told me your religion, I could tell through your shorts already.”

Ezra looks down, blushes, and covers himself with a shy laugh. “It’s so weird to have a guy be so in to me.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious. I hand him a towel, and use the excuse of giving it to him to give him a kiss too.
“Cause…I’m well, you know. Not a hot piece of beefcake like you.”
Now it was my turn to feel shy. “You think I’m beefcake?”
“Meat and more meat,” Ezra says.
“Well that’s kind of you to say. Most people can’t get over the fact I’m a ginger and date me like I"m a novelty.”
“Speaking of that,” Ezra says. “If I get naked…you get naked. I’ve been dying to know if you got freckles down there too.”

I perk up at his offer. He’s interested! “Oh baby, that is a yes. I got them on my balls even.”
Ezra gasps. “Ball freckles are a thing?”
“Yeah baby.”
Ezra’s got a half chub in his boxers. “Alright, big boy. Sit down.”
“Sit down?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” he says. “You wanna watch me take my boxers off? You’re gonna get a show.”

I lick my lips and sit my ass in the chair. I can’t believe how well the date is going! Ezra shakes his butt to some pop music playing over the boat’s speakers. He then turns his back to me, and slooowly slides those wet shorts down, revealing his peach-white ass. A bit furry too. Perfect. He’s got surprisingly good control over his hips. Hell yes. He then wiggles up, turns around, and slowly works them down until – there it is, I can see the base! And I then I get the money shot, full view of Ezra’s cut cock bouncing between his legs.

“Fuck yes,” I murmur, biting my knuckle. “Drop those shorts, baby.” And he does. He’s also blushing all over.
“Good?” he asks, hopeful.
“SO good,” I reply, unable to sit still anymore. I get up and walk to him, wrapping my hands around his waist. I pull our crotches together and our lips meet a second later. He tastes a bit like lake water, but his mouth is warm and inviting. I plunder him until he starts to harden against my thigh.
We break for air, and Ezra nuzzles my ear. “Your turn.”
“My turn wha?” I say, blood pounding in my head.
“Shorts. Off. I wanna count freckles.”
I moan. “Fingers or tongue?”
Ezra’s eyebrows go up again. “Fingers now…tongue on another date.”
“I get another date?” I ask, hoping what I heard was right.
“Looks that way,” Ezra teases. He kisses me again. “I haven’t had a second date go this well, never mind a third…”
“Would it help to keep kissing you?”
“Oh it would. very much so.”
So I did, until my cock got hard, and then I let Ezra take my shorts off for me. Turns out I have 17 freckles on my balls.

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Captions are fictional. Thanks for the submission!

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reeseloveandsoul:

{reeseloveandsoul.tumblr.com}

I stand there in the entry way to our living room, hand paused while scratching the back of my neck. My mouth is frozen in mid-yawn. My house boy is perched on the mantel of our fireplace with feline grace, all curves and sunkissed bare limbs, gazing out onto the skyline. I work my dry mouth and swallow. He looks like he is part of the room, like I had a naked male version of the Little Mermaid statue from Copenhagen installed in my condo.

I pat my pocket, seeking my phone. I frame the shot and snap it. Perfect.

At the sound, my houseboy looks over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re up. Good afternoon, Sir. How was your nap?”
“Wonderful,” I reply. “I can’t wait until this client partnership is over and I can sleep like a normal person again.”
My houseboy gives me a wistful look. “It will be soon. Shall I get you some refreshments?”
“Mmnn. No, don’t get down. You can get it in a minute.” I walk over to him. “What are you looking at?”

My boy shrugs. “I just realized I never took the time to really look at the view you know? Been working so hard to keep your life and home in order since we moved here, but I spend most of it looking down. It’s beautiful.”
I run my palm over his thigh. I suddenly want him naked and spead open under me in an embarrassingly vulgar way.  
“What do you see?” I manage to say.
“Mmmn. There’s a bird of prey circling to the right there.”
“Oh? So there is.”
“There’s a red flag on that building over there. Someone is having a smoke break on that roof there. There’s a balloon caught on that line there…”
“You see a lot.”
My houseboy looks pleased that I’m interested. “I wonder what I could see if I had that bird’s vision.”
“Probably ants on the sidewalk,” I guess.
“Mmmn. Possibly.” My houseboy looks at me. I position his chin with my pointer finger and kiss him. He leans in, and I give him my tongue. A soft groan escapes from lips. “God, I love it when you kiss me for no reason.”
“Oh there is always a reason,” I insist. “And I could use that refreshment now. Get two.”

My houseboy blinks, trying to snap back into focus. “Ye – yes Sir.” He slides off the mantel with noted grace. I watch that fine body as he sashays into the kitchen.

I sit on the sofa when he returns with two glasses. We sit and discuss dinner as we drink our iced tea. When I finish mine, I set it down on the tray.
“Another Sir?” My boy prompts.
“No,” I say, leaning in and caressing his jaw. “I want you.”
I take the glass out of his hand and put it on the table. I lean forward and guide him backwards until his back is on the sofa, over the afghan. I crawl up onto the cushions and settle between his legs.

He is always naked. I chose not to lock him and instead make him come to me to ask for relief, which is just the right amount of control and humiliation to set me off. He has been so good so far in learning that his cock is mine to touch and handle first. I enjoy a palm full of the hardening thing as I push down my boxers and extract mine out.

We always hide lube and condoms under the sofa seat cushions, and I’m pleased my houseboy remembered to put them there after we moved.

He takes me like a pro – hot and tight, without needing to be stretched. Every inch pushed in makes him mewl and wiggle like a kitten. “Good boy,” I grunt, beginning my thrusts almost immediately. He responds by wrapping his legs around my back.

I reposition and push inside him deep, and I know I hit his spot because pre-cum spurts all over my hand. I rub his cockhead with my thumb and he shivers tremendously.
“Yes. Yes, like that boy,” I murmur. He whimpers my name.

I finish taking him with a breathless pace. I’m feeling particularly amorous and grant him an orgasm with mine – but after mine, of course. I mark him with hickeys and licks, and enjoy feeling him soften and relax under me. I nuzzle his swan like neck. “I could use another refreshment now.”
“Wh – when my legs work again, Sir, I will obey that order.”
I smirk at him and chuff under my breath. “So it shall be.” I caress his sensitive little cock until he’s sweating under me and protesting dearly, but I relent once he’s shot again – a little clear fluid under his belly button. I lick him until he’s giggling cause he’s ticklish, and then my lust is sated.

The next day, I go out and buy him a pair of binoculars and leave them on the mantel. I also give him a journal to write down his finds.

He clearly loved his presents, because my boy drew hearts on my pancakes with chocolate syrup for a week after. When he stopped, I told him not to cause I loved it so much. I love him so much.

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Captions are fictional. I didn’t realize this was a selfie by OP. Beautiful work.
The skyline is of Brooklyn apparently.

Also I didn’t know the OP had put a Little Mermaid reference into his tags until after I wrote this, lol.

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At Gayday at the local ski resort, a rather opportunistic boy roams the dining hall hoping to find a sugar daddy to pay for his lift pass for the winter.

He’s heard of cash fags before and decided to make things benefit him the other way around.

It normally works. Rich, lonely men can’t resist having a hot body to warm their beds after a long day on the slopes. All the boy has to do is walk in wearing nearly nothing and carrying cocoa and suddenly they don’t mind paying for that lift pass. It’s really not a bad way to spend the winter, being a snow bunny. Now all he has to do is find someone to bless his season to enjoy his presence. Shame his last meal ticket moved to Milan.

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Text is fictional.

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It sets back the schedule to take time to punish a work slave, but when a lapse in judgement results in broken materials and nearly injures another boy, there is no discussion – it must be done pronto. Truth is? Every slave makes this type of mistake twice. Smart ones make it once. The trick is not to get complacent, zone out, or get distracted, which can be difficult when one is made to do repetitive hard labor all day. A good slave knows to keep his mind as well as his hands busy and his attention focused. If not, he’ll at least have a reminder to be much more careful next time. At least no one had to go to the hospital this time, no one got hurt. Well, besides the slave boy but …really, now. It will sting, but a whipping doesn’t count as true hurt.

Not compared to the cane, anyway…

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Gay captions.

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mytintinposts:

Mytintinposts

Maybe too queer, but still hot

“Jordy, it’s not too queer.”
“It is. I mean…we have both our hands over my penis.”
“…Jordy that was your idea.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking! I guess I just, like, let all my gayness cloud my judgement.”
“Jordy, honey have you eaten?”
“What?” he blinks.
“You’re getting manic, have you eaten honey?”
“…I ate a protein bar. And a latte.”
“Decaf?”
“…No.”
“Jordy, you need to eat real food.”
“How can I eat at a time like this!” he huffs, throwing his arms dramatically. “Why did I allow naked photos to be taken of us? They’re so…cheesy.”
I pick up the prints the photographer mailed us. “I think they’re sweet.”
“…Sweet?” Jordy repeats.
“Yes. I mean, look at us. It’s so clear. You are shy, scared to put yourself out there as you are – naked in both body and soul – for another man, but you clearly want to because you have puppy eyes for that man. Well, me, in this analogy. And the other man – me – is reaching out to say that being together doesn’t mean surrendering yourself entirely, it means learning to share yourself with someone because that can be wonderful and amazing and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I love it. It conveys our relationship perfectly.”
“Oh my god.” Jordy replies softly, his voice still tinged with that dramatic, twinky tone of us. “You see that in this picture?”
“Yes, baby, I do. You are also damn fine, if I can say so.”
“Oh you can, you can,” Jordy cooes, reaching for me. I embrace him in a hug.
“Oh there there. It’s ok. I know it’s a little embarrassing putting yourself out there on film. I thank you for indulging me with pictures for anniversary. You don’t have to look at them again if you don’t want to.”
“….I don’t?” Jordy replies, pulling away and looking at me.
“Not if they make you that uncomfortable?”
“Well…I mean… when you put it that way…” Jordy shuffles through the photos on the coffee table. “Woah, this one has your penis in it! Ok, this one’s hot.”
I laugh. “Jordy. You can have my penis any time you want.”
“And I really appreciate that.
“But you don’t want to look at the ones of us together?”
“….Now you make me seem like an ungrateful diva bitch.”
“Well, if the shoe fits…”
“Uuughh I am such a virgo.”
“Jordy.”
Jordy crosses his arms and looks away. “I like them. I really do. It’s just weird to see a physical embodiment of the way you feel for someone.”
Suddenly he’s left me speechless. “Jordy…” I begin.
“But you’ll never get me to admit that again!” He grabs the naked photo of me and marches into the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
I watch him magnet it to the fridge and smirk. “To make dinner.”
“That photo of me is not staying on the fridge.”
“I’m making you lasagna. It will stay there for now, and then I’m taking it to work and putting it in my locker.”
“…Jordy I’m not sure the other firefighters will like that.”
“Rick has a naked photo of a porn star in his locker! You can see her lips. I want to play too.”

I give him a look. He still won’t say ‘vagina’. Sometimes, Jordy’s just impossible, so I decide I’m done bickering with him and let him make me dinner. We went out for dessert, then came back, made love, and went to sleep.
When I came home from work the next day, the intimate photo of us that caused Jordy to freak out was displayed on our bedroom dresser in a beautiful silver frame.

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Text is fictional.

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“Hey Coach – it’s a pretty warm
day for tennis. Mind if I take off my shirt?”
He nearly drops the tennis ball canister he’s holding. “Mind? Why would I mind?
Nah, sport, go right ahead.”
“Sweet.” I peel it off and toss it aside and then stretch. “Much better. …Hey
coach whatcha staring at?”
“Oh um. Sorry. Nothing. You just reminded me of myself when I was young.”
I give him a grin. “Coach you’re a terrible liar.”
He turns red. “Don’t call your Coach a liar!”
I pick up the racket. “How about if you win this round, I’ll take a shower in
the public space instead of the stall this time?”
Coach totally freezes. The public space is where he showers. He suggested that
in the beginning so I’d have my privacy and we could be in the locker room at
the same time. I try not to laugh as I catch him catch himself drooling. He
looks like a pup that just saw a very big steak. “Yeah …yeah sure Sport. That sounds
like a real good challenge,” he says with a smirk. “Just don’t lose on purpose, sport. Big Daddy wants a real victory.”

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Text is fictional.

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He came by to help you close up the store. Your sister runs the place, selling very nice bath products and tattoo care, soap and candles. She wanted a night off, so you worked her shift. By closing time, the place was dead, so you invited your boyfriend to keep you company.

Recently, you can’t seem to get enough of him. You’re still not really sure what happened, because he was a friend for the longest time and you were pretty goddamn sure he was straight. Apparently he’s just got the best gaydar cloaking technology in existence because you found his stash of your stolen undershirts and underwear when over at his place. You just had to take one look at this miserable face and incredibly hot body, and you know you were going to give him what he wanted instead of leaving him. Heck, you wanted him since day one but thought you were being the good gay friend by keeping your hands off. Now that the barrier had been broken, the mattress was not going to get a break.

Now, you could hardly go anywhere or do anything without thinking of him. And since you were alone and bored, of course you called him, and of course he came over with the promise of dinner after. But first – you were going to eat him. You locked the doors and shoved him against the wall. You were aware your sister probably had a security camera in place here, but dammit you could not resist him.

His taste, the fullness of his lips, the way his hard muscles trembled under your roaming fingertips. The boy liked to be kissed and you were happy to indulge him. You were slowly realizing that his alpha straight boy act was a cover too. You were always the one that pushed him back and lifted up his shirt, waiting for him to spar with you, but he just melted and let you take control. Surrendering to you came naturally to him. You rewarded him for his piety by tonguing his nipples while massaging his erection through his pants. He lifted his hips and moaned out your name, making your own cock ache.

There were glass windows on the storefront and you didn’t want anyone to call the cops, so you took him to the back room where there was a nice packing table waiting for use. You bent him over and got his pants down. That herbal spice body oil your sister created made for some damn great lube. It occurred to you that she should probably start selling it as such. You teased his hole with your slick fingers until he was pounding the table, begging for you to fuck him, but you waited until his cock was a tight, straining mess in your hands on the brink of spurting before you dove into him.

Your hands left oily marks on his hips as you set a relentless place, fucking him hard and sweet. You pressed kisses down his shoulder and licked the shell of his ear to make him insane.

The orgasm came far too quickly, and you wished you had a plug to hold in all the mess. You settled for cleaning him with warm, damp paper towels and kissing him until he was unmistakeably ravished. If it wasn’t for your grumbling stomachs, then you were sure you were going never going to stop making out with him. You reminded yourself to be careful and not go too fast, not taken advantage of him, because this boy just might be the love of your life and you had to remember he was a person and not just a vessel for sex, even if he wanted to be thought of that way. He had an amazing sex drive.

And taking care of your man meant feeding him after fucking him.
“Come on love, let’s get you some protein before we get carried away again. I much rather make love to you on a soft bed than a wooden table.”
And he gives you this heart-melting smile and slinks an arm around your waist. “Late night tonkatsu ramen?”
You groan. “Sounds fucking delicious.”
He kisses your cheek. “Not as delicious as you.”

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Text is fictional.