Sensationally Built Ballerino.
#bringingbackthefavourites
Meanwhile, Julian is standing there with his arms folded, impatiently waiting for Alex to realize that Susannah isn’t interested or impressed…but he is.
(One late night ballet reblog, because it’s 4 am, and why not. Text is fictional.)
My phone chimes. I pick it up. It’s Grey. Such a cool name, very classic. He’s running late. I can’t remember what he does for a living, something involving archiving at a museum. He was by far one of the best candidates that responded to my ad. Still, I’m restless. I’m torn because I need someone to pay the other half of the rent, but part of me isn’t ready to share this space yet. My heart still feels raw and burnt, the sickening pain from the discovery of adultery has left me numb and taken the color out of the world.
I honestly thought I did everything right. I was a good boyfriend to Jared. I always let him know where I was, I was tidy, I cooked sometimes. I pleased him in bed, and never complained when he didn’t want to reciprocate with his mouth. It wasn’t enough though. Jared left me for the twink that made his smoothies at the gym. Can you believe that? I mean I understand the allure of a true twink and cockslut, of having some nearly hairless, lithe queer boy writhing under you, begging for you to fuck his pussy again… but Jared and I had been dating for nearly two years when he left me. That’s a boy you take home from the club, not someone you throw away a serious committed relationship for in a week. Plus, Jared always used to call me handsome. He loved my pecs. He said he liked rugged men. I just don’t understand what happened to my life. Maybe Jared really wanted a pretty houseboy or something, I don’t know.
I pace around the apartment, mournfully gazing at where Jared put his coffee mugs, and where he put his watch when he went to bed. Until yesterday, my hand-prints were still on the patio doors from when Jared last fucked me against them. It had been dark, and people could probably see us. I found it exhilarating. Now, I was ashamed and wished I’d scrubbed them away earlier.
I opened the apartment door and glanced out into the hallway. I left the door open a crack to help air out the stuffy living room. I felt lost, a bit stuck in time. I shuffled into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed. I used to get into this submissive position – back arched, arms straight, ass out – like some obedient show puppy desperate to please his Master. I thought it was fun to greet your boyfriend like that, start the evening off with some frisky sex.
Now I just feel stupid. There is no one to show of and feel sexy for. I might as well be a puppy dropped off at the pound-
There’s the sound of knuckles rapping at the door. “Um, excuse me?” says a melodic velvety voice.
I whip my head around. My potential new roommate is standing in the open door-frame to my apartment. From that vantage point, Grey can see straight through the living room and right into my bedroom. Right at my ass. I flush with embarrassment and scramble off the bed; I practically run to the living room to greet him.
“You must be Grey,” I mumble, wanting to melt into the floor. I offer a hand. We shake.
Grey lifts the corners of his lips and raises an eyebrow at me with lots of David-Bowie-esque charm. “Pleasure’s all mine. Sorry if I was erm, interrupting, but the door was open.”
I stammer out a response. “No, it’s quite alright, I was just – er, would you like to a tour of the apartment?”
“Yes please. Are you alright?” Grey presses, putting a hand on my arm. I realize he’s wearing slim, leather gloves. What style!
I sigh. “I’m alright. I just…I don’t want to be a downer, but my boyfriend of two years just left me. This is hard, to be renting out the guest room.”
To my astonishment, Grey hugs me. “I am so sorry honey. That is never fun, or fair.”
I can’t believe how badly I need this hug right now. I crush him back, and I am mortified to feel more tears coming on.
“Aww oh dear, I’ve upset you. Come now, show me to the kitchen, I’ll make you some tea. You poor cub, I think you need someone to talk to.”
I nod miserably and show him the way.
After Grey makes me a cup of sencha, the dam bursts. I end up completely gushing and bitching, ranting like a lunatic, going through tissues like a madman. Grey listens, always attentive, never bored, never once glancing at his phone. He pats my arm and soothes me, never accusing, always asking the right questions.
By the time I stop blubbering the teapot is empty. I take pause and sigh. “I’m sorry. This must be insufferable for you. You probably can’t wait to leave,” I snort.
“No…actually,” Grey says slowly. “I’d like to rent the apartment.”
“…What? Really? You’ve barely seen in it.”
Grey runs his finger over the circular rim of the cup. “I saw the kitchen, and the living room. And I had a nice view into the bedroom.”
I blush at his innuendo..
“This is all exactly what I am looking for, in my price range, and in a neighborhood a like. I’m a particular man. I want particular things.”
“Things?”
“Things,” Grey says with a knowing smile. His eyes linger on my chest for a moment, before flickering up to me. I am a bit mesmerized by his charm.
“…I’ll um, I’ll get the paperwork then.” I stand up, but when I notice just how green his eyes are, I end up tripping over my own feet on the way to my desk.
_______________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Originally posted by the real person on Tumblr. This story is not meant to assume his personality or sexuality.
I try to be Daddy’s sexy little wife as much as I can. Making him happy and horny is what I live for.
I hear his soft footfalls as he enters the kitchen. “Hello Jackson,” I say, busy prepping supper.
“God, I could listen to you say my name forever,” he admits. “I love your accent.”
“Jack-son?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” he exhales, like that “You’re cooking nude again. In that pristine white apron…” Jackson presses himself up behind me and his palm slides over my ass. “My Russian beauty.”
He’s necking me now, so I lean back against him and offer my lips. He dips his head and our mouths lock. It’s sweet, tender kisses that make my knees weak. For a moment I forget supper and just hope he wants to take it to the bedroom. I reach back and grab his thigh. I feel his package bum against me.
“Horny?” I purr.
“I don’t even have a word for it. I just am totally obsessed with you. Your thick body, those muscles in your arms. Your butt is – god, I just love your butt. I love your python thighs, your uncut cock, and your big low set of balls…” he runs his hands over me, caressing me as if exploring me for the first time. The hand drifts under my apron and cups me between the legs. I inhale sharply.
“You know what I think it is?”
“Hm?” I ask, distracted, as I stir the pot.
“I think it’s me thinking about what life be like if I hadn’t met you.”
“You?!” I exclaim. “What about me? I’d still be in that tiny little town in Russia, drinking myself to death like my papa did.”
“But you aren’t there,” Jackson says, reassuring me. “You’re here. In Canada. Safe, with me, in my home. I just …jesus, Oskar, I just never imagined I’d be this happy. I sometimes wonder if it’s all a dream.”
“Isn’t that what you imagined when you put up the ad?”
“I was scared to dream I’d be this happy. Honestly, I imagined I’d be taken advantage of for sex and money and abandoned once my new partner got here.”
“But you got me.”
“I almost didn’t,” he corrects, still touching me. It’s making me really hot and bothered. I almost wish I wasn’t so deep into dinner or I would just throw himself at him.
“The agency matched you with that guy, Carlos. He was such a creep. He just wanted a sex toy.”
“Honey, I know, I was there,” I chuckle, not really wanting to think about that right now. Jackson was lost in his thoughts though.
“I was wait listed for you, on this off-chance…I just knew, you were the one. When I got the news he hurt you, oh my god, I almost went to his house and beat the shit out of him!” Jackson growls in my ear, his fingers digging a little deeper into me.
“Honey,” I plead again. “Please…that wasn’t a good time for me. Let’s not talk about Carlos. Put your hand on my cock again.”
“Mmm,” Jackson said, perking up. He wormed his way around to my front again and stroked me under the apron. I sigh. “Did I mention I love that you’re uncut?”
I blush as he tugs on my foreskin. “No.”
“Well I do. Dammit Oskar…I can still remember exactly how I felt, the moment you stepped off the plane at the airport. We had only met during the mixer in Russia the agency set up, but I recognized you immediately.”
I’m quiet for a moment. I move to drain the raviolis in the sink and Jackson trails me, still petting me. It is getting immensely difficult to think. My head is clouded with hormones and lust. I want my man to wrap me in his arms, kissing away any thoughts of the violence I experienced with Carlos. Sometimes I think about damn lucky I am, and I feel nearly sick with relief. The world rarely works out so perfectly. We were two men, seeking love, one looking for escape, the other looking for a taste of the years his diplomatic father stationed them in Moscow. The first time I made Jackson blinchiki – or as they call them here, blintzes – he actually cried.
“Honey?” I moan, my cock now achingly hard. The ravioli are cooling in the strainer.
“Yeah?” he says, distracted.
I say to him, exasperated, “Can we please go have a fuck before dinner? I am so fucking horny!”
Jackson laughs.
I feel a bit wounded. “Did I say something wrong? Is it my English? Did I not say it right?”
“No, I’m sorry love, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing with bliss. Just when I think my life is more perfect, you say the best damn things and remind me that I still have many more amazing years with you.”
“Then let’s get living them,” I insist. I turn around and pull Jackson against me. I push my crotch against his hip. Jackson grabs my ass hard until I shout, then he reaches back and unties my apron. I pull it over my head and toss it on the counter. Our lips meet and collide, desperately drawn here and to. I flick my tongue at him, and it makes Jackson ravenous. Before I know it, he’s reaching for the olive oil and I got my legs around his waist. He pushes me up onto the counter, hisses at me to “hold on”. I grab onto the cabinet. My dick is throbbing and it’s starting to ache.
“Jackson hurry!” I whimper.
He fumbles with the olive oil. One hand is still slippery when he grabs my thighs and pushes into me. I bellow out a moan as he fills me in one push. I stroke myself while he devours my mouth again. Jackson notices me pleasuring myself and pulls away a little to watch. “Yeah, that’s it Oskar, good boy” He snaps his hips like a whip, thrusting his fat cock up inside of me. I push my thighs against him. “Yes! Yes!” I cry, momentarily lost in the satisfaction of getting what I need.
Jackson is slipping on the olive oil on the floor, so he leans against me and uses his hips to fuck me. I arch my back, ignoring the counter digging into my butt.
“More! Harder!” I love these English sex words he taught me. I feel naughty when I use them. Luckily, I use the right ones and Jackson ruts until his chest is heaving with effort. Suddenly, his glans hits my prostate in just the right way and we explode together. I scream and Jackson digs his teeth into my shoulder. I am jerking myself furiously. Cum splatters up on my stomach and coats where we’re joined. I groan as I feel Jackson’s load flood in me.
Our foreheads touch as he catch our breath.
“I needed that,” I say, matter of factly.
“That was a great idea,” Jackson agrees, nibbling my jaw. Our tongues duel for a moment before he slides out. I whimper at the emptiness behind. “Christ look at this mess,” he chuckles, setting me down. “Cum and oil everywhere.”
I grin, flustered and happy. “But that is a good problem to have. You need to change your pants too.”
“What?” Jackson glances down and sees our cum has soaked the front of his jeans. “Oh damn.”
“Why don’t we eat dinner naked in the bathtub?” I offer.
“Dinner, in the bathtub?”
“Well, we won’t have to worry about getting tomato sauce on our clothes.”
“Such a smart husband,” he coos. He kisses me again. I wish he would stop that, because I want more when he does. I had a feeling we weren’t going to be getting any cleaner in that bath, and turns out, I was right. We made an even bigger mess too.
______________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Tommy Defendi and Alex Adams. This is from Man Royale. Couldn’t find the video on their website, but it’s called Cookin’ By The Book. Here’s stills. Here’s the video bootlegged and uploaded.
Damien watches from next to the table as yet again his houseboy charms the pants off everyone at the party – and he is the only one not wearing pants! He wonders how on earth Milo got old Dunham Senior to smile. The leading partner in their law firm, Dunham Senior was known for being a grouchy, cranky ol’ coot. Next to him was Dunham Junior and the Misses all laughing and joking as if old friends. Bits of conversation drifted over about Dunham’s shenanigans in his youth.
Damien felt a twinge of irritation. He’d somehow managed to train his houseboy so well that he was outshining him at his own party! What on Earth was protocol for that? He was watching Milo from the corner of the room, wondering how long he was going to stand there. It wasn’t his job to socialize. The cookie platter was running low. Damien glanced around at his guests and two drinks that could use a refill. He was just about to stroll over to his houseboy to put him in his place, but the conversation the group was having was dissolving. He saw Milo gesture to Dunham Senior’s glass; the man put up a hand to reject the offer of another one. Milo nodded and smiled, then touched his elbow and excused himself.
Milo made a dash to the kitchen and returned with a serving plate of champagne flutes, and made a quick lap of the room to make sure all the guests were hydrated. He then swung by the dessert tray to make sure it was full. Damien caught his eye. Milo came over and kissed him on his cheek. “This has been a delightful evening, Sir.”
“Yes, it has,” Damien said flatly, truthfully a bit bored of these necessary social functions. They made Milo happy, so he suffered for him. Milo kissed him again, and then darted off.
Damien sipped his drink and thought about how far Milo had come since his first party, when he was nervous, stressed out, still not used to be nude; plus, he had been leaking everywhere in an ill fitting chastity device. That had been Damien’s mistake, and he knew it. The length was not an issue for any chastity device, but the girth, that had been the problem.
Damien felt someone staring at him. He glanced around and spotted Dunham Senior looking his way. He nodded and walked over.
“Mr. Dunham, I take it my houseboy wasn’t talking your ear of was he?”
Mr. Dunham chuckled, a low throaty noise. “No, not at all. He was a pleasure! He’s such a youthful boy.”
Damien exhaled a little sigh of relief. “That he is. Parties make him excited.”
“He seems very comfortable in his own skin, that one.”
“That took some time,” I say. “Society taught him to be ashamed of his body.”
Dunham Senior made a pshaw noise. “If had a body like that, I wouldn’t wear clothes at all!” Damien tried not to make a face at picturing his boss naked. Luckily, he didn’t notice and went on. “I must say though, he is very well endowed, what a lucky thing. Is that why he wasn’t locked?
"That he is.”
“I’ve never seen a houseboy that wasn’t locked.”
“Indeed. I can’t lock him, though, anything we found cut off circulation. Milo doesn’t need it though, he is obedient. I think it adds to his beauty though. A male body is an art form, so as such, he is a bit of living art in my life.”
Dunham Senior clapped me on the shoulder. “Yes yes! Exactly. They must understand that. You know, I was thinking of getting a housepet for my son and my new daughter-in-law as a belated wedding present. They want to start a family, and they both work, so I think it would be ideal.”
“I would be pleased to provide some direction on that matter.”
“Fantastic, fantastic.” Dunham Senior was momentarily distracted by the frontal view of Milo as he returned from the kitchen with another round of cookies for the dessert tray. “If I were only 50 years younger, what I would do to him…”
Damien did make a face that time and pretended he didn’t hear that. Still, he felt a bit smug that he got to have Milo when no one else did. Milo tended to take control at these parties, so by the time it was over, Damien always felt a mighty itch to remind him where he stood in this household. He had a feeling the sex tonight was going to be particularly vigorous.
____________________
Text is fictional.
Benjamin Poirier
Compañía Nacional de Danza // España
Fotografía Carlos Quezada
Spain, where were you hiding this guy? Goddamn!
“Oh the phone…Hey Jim. Yeah what’s up? I’m a little busy why? I think I can meet ya there, just need like an extra hour. What am I doing? Oh teasing my houseboy’s cock. He got a break from his chastity device, and I caught the little bastard jerking off on my bed. Well now he’s tied to his own bed and he’s gonna be there a while. …What’s that? Haha you can hear him? Come on boy, say hi!”
“Mmnnffgg!”
“Good boy. Alright Jim, I’ll text ya before I leave. Bye now. Now where were we, boy? You have such a nice long, smooth shaft… so many different toys I can use on it. I think the feather will be next, followed by the e-stim machine perhaps. Jim doesn’t live far. I can torture your cock right up until the point I’m gonna leave..and I will. How does those metal spikes feel boy?”
“MMnnnnn!”
His Master flicks his nipple clamps.
“MMNNnnnnnnnnn,” the boy groans.
“Better. Oh ho. I can feel your dick twitching. It thinks its getting another ejaculation, hahaha. Nope.”
________________
Text is fictional.
The spikes on the collar are sort of flashy, though.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing,” I say to the nude creature, loosening my tie. I turn to my friend Renard who has just come out of the bathroom. “I didn’t know you got a boy. When were you going to tell me?”
Renard lifts the corner of his lip, suppressing a chuckle as he rolls up his shirt sleeves. “He isn’t mine, he comes with the hotel.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
“Quite so.” Renard walks over to his side of the table and the servant boy pulls out his chair. Renard sits. I stare at the beauty of his young body, of his bare cock and his chiseled abs. His collar is a bit flashy, but it fits the ornate style of the hotel. I’m so entranced by him that I almost don’t hear what Renard is saying. “…is a prestigious hotel. They offer services to guests that, ah, are off menu.”
“How have I not heard about this?” I gawk.
“It’s a secret,” he says smugly, sipping his water. “When you travel a lot for business, like I do, you hear things. Amazing things. I stay at this hotel frequently, and I don’t even have to ask now. He comes with the room.” Renard reaches up and tweaks the boy’s jaw. “Honestly I find myself coming here more and more, just for a taste of this. Come sit, Sebastian, before your eyes fall out of your head.”
I cough and remove my jacket. The boy glides over and takes it from me.
“Thank you,” I note. He folds it over his arm, before pulling out my chair. As I sit, he vanishes to go hang it up.
“God, he is stunning,” I say, watching his ass as he goes.
Renard smiles. “When I first saw him, I was unbelievably jetlagged after coming off a flight from Sydney. I wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep. I ended up fucking him for three hours. I didn’t get out of bed for two days.”
“You have all my envy, Renard.”
He gestures at me with his fork. “You are not much younger than me, Seb. Soon you too will enjoy these same pleasures. Shall we eat before it gets cold?”
“I concur,” I say, tearing my gaze away from the servant boy. “You know, it’s probably better I do not have a houseboy thus far, as I would do nothing else with my time and lose all my business.”
“Our sex drives are our greatest enemies, yes.”
We share a chuckle and start on our food. Of course, it is superb. As I sup, I notice the servant boy is standing too close to the table, watching us. After a couple bites of myfish, I lower my fork. I glance at the servant accusingly. “What are you doing standing there?”
The boy opens his mouth but Renard holds up his hand and cuts him off. “Ah, I forgot to mention the other thing. He’s waiting for you to give command.”
“Command for what?”
A sly grin appears on Renard’s foxy face. “To blow you under the table, of course.”
I pause, my bite of food halfway to my mouth. “You aren’t kidding are you?”
“I told you, dear Seb, the hospitality here is excellent.”
I chew my food carefully, trying to focus on something than all the blood rushing between my legs. “Well, boy,” I say, addressing him. “Get to it.”
“Yes sir, right away Sir.” He refills my water glass, then drops to his knees and shuffles under the table.
In a moment, there’s a hot velvety tongue laving my cock. I melt into the plush cushion of the chair, and feel as if I never want to move again. I chew a bit of Patagonian toothfish slowly, savoring the meaty flavor, while trying not to groan and thus choke. I swallow, then wash my palette with mineral water from Spain. I find myself leaning back and a sigh of contentment escapes my lips as I watch the servant boy work. I stroke his tawny hair lovingly and he rewards me with tight suction. I sigh again. There is no life I could love more than this.
________________
Text is fictional.
“See? Look at this huge boner I got. Are you gonna come over now and fix it or what? And while you’re here, can you clean my apartment? I’m fucking hopeless without you.”
“…Yeah you are. Your roommates must be out for the day.”
“Yeah they’re gone for the weekend, as is my girlfriend. No one will know. I’ll sneak you in.”
I stare at my phone. I don’t get it. He’s so in denial he’s not even acknowledging the closet exists. As long as he gets his blowjobs, he doesn’t see it as cheating or whatever. I sigh. I already know I’m going over there. He has a perfect cock and a damn amazing body. What do I get out of it? Frustrating him. Making him horny and needy, making him think about sex, and dangling my hot ass right in front him. He’s gonna snap one of these days, jump my bones, and fuck my brains out. Once he does, he’ll be addicted and I’ll be able to manipulate him however I want.
“Alright, give me a minute to clean up and I’ll come over.”
“Yr amazing.”
Yeah yeah. I set down my phone and dig through my underwear drawer for my best pair of underwear. I’m going to need something sexy to clean in. He’s gonna pay dearly if he thinks he can dismiss me as just a hot mouth. I want him to be unable to keep his eyes off of me. I want to fill his dreams with naked boys and make him wake up confused with sticky sheets. I won’t be happy until I’ve made him break up with his girlfriend. Sometimes I dream about locking up his cock and making him beg me for release. That seems only fitting. It would be a good way to correct his entitled behavior. I hum to myself as I slide on my best pair of Aussiebums. It’s gonna be a fun afternoon.
__________________
Text is fictional.
David Zaleyev dancing the pas de trois variation from ‘Swan Lake’ at the Mariinsky Theatre, 29.10.2014
Excuse me while I impress you all with my gigantic thighs and my ability to look damn good in white tights.
