Tag: falling in love

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Birdie glanced outside the slat window. “Oh look, the chickadees are back at the bird feeder. That must mean…yep, the doves are under it, picking up the mess. It looks like the squirrels are keeping their distance. The proofing thing we rigged worked. Aw, they’re so cute and fat. Probably starving in all this cold. Hm, I wonder what those birds are? Warblers maybe? Purple martins? Probably just a type of finch. Wonder if we’ll see the cardinal pair from last year this winter. Gosh, they’re just so fun to watch. Nom nom nom! What do you think Sir?” 
When there wasn’t a reply, BIrdie glanced over his shoulder at his strong, swarthy Sir who was giving him the most unreadable, distant expression.
“Sir?” Birdie asked again. “Is everything alright?”
“I love you.”
BIrdie gasped softly. ‘Sir?” he squeaked.
Morgan’s cheeks turned ruddy under the close-cropped dark scruff of his beard. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out.”
“Did…did you mean it Sir?”
Morgan covered his face with his hand. “I … Yes. I do, Birdie. I was just sitting here, staring at beautiful sight of the back of you and I realized the reason I stopped chasing boyfriends so long ago is that I’m in love with you. I made these excuses to myself – that I was distracted, that I was busy with work, that our sex was holding me over, but I just….I just realized it. That butt is mine, and what it’s attached to, I want it to be mine forever.”

Birdie’s eyes went wide. His delicate hand was hovering over his mouth. “Morgan – I mean, Sir I – I – …I’m speechless.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I have breached our relationship. You are my houseboy. I have been inappropriate with you.” Sir began to get up. “I’m going out.”
“No no!” Birdie cried, walking over to his Sir and taking his hand in his. “I’m really happy you told me. Oh gosh, can’t you feel that I’m shaking? I’m the luckiest houseboy in the world.  A great job, a great life, and my deepest fantasy realized! It’s like Christmas has come early.”
Morgan blinked and choked. “Really..? You feel the same?”
“If not more. You’re my favorite man in the world,” Birdie admitted. “Oh gosh, I’m going to get emotional.”
Morgan chuckled to hide how flattered he was, and kissed his boy on the forehead. “Then get emotional. Get emotional for us if you want.”
“For both of us? …but Sir, your eyes are tearing up.”
“Oh come on Birdie, let an old man keep some of his dignity.”
Birdie giggled and nuzzled Morgan. “I love you too.”

They shared a kiss on the lips. Morgan glanced over Birdie’s shoulder. “Hey, the cardinal couple is back.”
“What? Really?”
Morgan pulled Birdie to the window, and they held hands as they watched the little creatures feast.

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

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.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I see Howard across the shopping center and totally just freeze. It’s him. It’s absolutely him. I forget that he can see me staring and that I’m not gazing at him through a screen or one way glass. He doesn’t look like his online profile at all – he looks twice as tall and three times more handsome. The angle of his photos made his face look shorter and rounder, and the lights from the club made him look much lighter. His skin is the exact color of cinnamon, and I don’t doubt it’s warm and smooth as the foam on a chocolate latte. He is more handsome than I ever could have hoped.

But he’s wearing a cardigan and I’m just not sure if I’m ready for boyfriends that wear sweaters…and what are those shoes called? Chukkas? Where at the basketball shorts and wifebeater shirts and sneakers? Are those jeans or slacks? God, what do I do – I can’t tear my eyes away and he’s noticing me, his face furrowing in confusion. Am I ready for a man like this? He’s gotta be intelligent as hell and totally down to Earth and practical, hell I can just tell he’s gonna be a great dad one day… and I mean, why would he want to date me?

I shouldn’t have worn this shirt. I should have gone with the button up. Should I have played up my 1/16th Cherokee heritage? Maybe he doesn’t date white boys. God he looks amazing in that cardigan. This guy isn’t gonna try to fake his way through a date just to touch my dick, he’s gonna want to cuddle up next to me and have a glass of whine…. am I ready for that? Am I really, really ready because this guy could be the father of my kids one day and oh god he’s coming over here.

When he looked at his phone earlier, he was totally checking out my profile picture. I can’t be what he thought I’d be. He has to be disappointed already. I’m just not that put together, and I should have worn the button up shirt, goddammit. What color do I look bad in again? Purple or yellow? My socks are cream – is cream yellow? Oh god, brain please shut up he’s coming over here. People are looking at him, noticing him, his style is just so casual and organic, how does he make it so effortless?

Why does that guy not have every gay college lit major trailing after him for his phone number? Why does he have to turn to online dating? And why did he pick –

“Pardon… are you Micah?” he asks, adorably nervous. Part of him is surely wondering if I’m just stoned out of my mind, standing here gawking like this.
I stammer and run my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I’m Micah Carter. You must be Howard.” I offer a hand, he shakes it; his grip is perfect. I faintly smell sandalwood.
“Yes, I am. Is everything alright? You have this frightened look on your face. Is there something growing out of my head?”
My face darkens a deep red. “No it’s just – just… well, I don’t know if I can explain it. I’ve met a lot of guys online and no one else gave me this feeling…ugh, this is so embarrassing. I’ll tell you one day, it’d just seem silly now. Um. You look really handsome and well put-together. Love the cardigan.”
The confused look on his face melts into a relaxed smile and he chuckles. “I’m not really sure what you mean by that first part, but thank you, that’s sweet of you to say. I went through eight other sweaters to pick it out.”
“I’ve never dated a guy who owns eight sweaters before…”
“I’ve never had a date with a guy I met online before.” Howard offers, looking shy. “And uh, I think it’s kinda hot you’re wearing just a plain white tee-shirt and raw denim. It’s such a classic look, you just don’t see it anymore.”
I’m momentarily speechless. “Howard, you are a sweetheart for saying that, but I just don’t think I can hold a candle next to you.”
He tilts his head and I swear I see him blush.. “Why don’t we just go on our date and you let me decide, Micah?”
Relief floods through me. He’s taking control. I need this, like my lungs need air. “Yeah, sure, I can’t wait.” Howard gives me another little smile and begins to walk; and to my surprise, my feet become unstuck from the floor and follow after him.
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Text is fictional. Watermarked. This man’s name is Rashid, and this was taken at the Melbourne Central shopping plaza in Australia.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Do you mind if I smoke?”
“No, go ahead, just don’t blow it in my face.”
“Yeah right on, right on. Sorry, I’m buying a vape thing with my next paycheck.”
“Good luck to ya mate.”
He smiles and nods, lighting up. “So …tell me again what is it exactly do you do for this guy you’re seeing?”
I nibble the flaky pastry, then sip my tea to hide a private smile. “I’m his houseboy.” I leave out the part about pup play.
“His…houseboy?” Marcus repeats. “Like a slave?”
“No no.” I shake my head and set down my cup. “We have a contract, and it’s all consensual. If I’m not cool with something, I get to say so immediately. Never had to do that though.”
Marcus takes a drag. “So what do you do?”
“I go over there four days a week. Here’s an example. Sunday is laundry day. I come over around 9. I make brunch, coffee, and fresh juice. While he eats, I’ll do the dishes ..or you know, blow him under the table.

Marcus barks out a laugh. "Really?”
“Oh yeah, he has like a fat five inch dick, it’s fun to suck.”
My friend shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’d do if I went down on a girl and found five inches.”
I smirk. “You just put it in your mouth and suck, Marcus.”
He sticks his tongue out at me.
“So anyway, I finish up. I tidy up anything out of place in the house, then I clean the bathroom. His underwear is all fine men’s underwear brands, so I fill up the tub and hand wash all his underwear and wool socks using Dr. Bronner’s soap. He says detergent is bad for them.” I shrug. “Then I hang it all on the line out in the backyard, and use run the rest through the washing machine. That too goes on the line.”
Marcus looks fascinated.
“So, normally during this time he’s gone on a run or a hike and if he’s back in time, I make him a late lunch. He goes to shower. I change the laundry out. I then do the grocery shopping and errands while he watches sports, and then I stay late cooking him meals for the week. We eat together. Normally by this point he’s horny again and he fucks me. I sometimes stay or I leave if I have an early exam.”
“Wow…” Marcus says, “So you’re like a maid with benefits?”
“Yes!” I say. “I do whatever he needs. I’ve cleaned and vacuumed his car, cleaned his gutters, powerwashed the driveway – which was a blast, oiled wood furniture, flipped his mattress, washed him in the bath… it’s very satisfying. He is very appreciative, and goodness gracious he gets so horny watching me serve.”
“He has a cleaning fetish…?”
I delicately sip my tea. “Oh didn’t I mention? I do all of this naked.”

I try not to laugh as Marcus drops his ash into his coffee and hurriedly pours them out, saving his drink. “W..what? Wait what? You’re naked while cleaning??”
“Oh yes. Well, I wear an apron while cooking. Grease and all.”
Marcus doesn’t know what to say. I nibble the pastry. “Hard to believe you used to be such a pious little choir boy,” he mutters under his breath.
I chuckle. “Well, that was before puberty.”
“How did you find this guy again?”
“I was at a kink party on someone’s roof. The host kept dropping the ball because he was so distracted, so I stepped into his place – keeping the food and drinks stocked, whisking away the trash, etc. A friend saw me and introduced me to Mr. White, who had a running reputation in their circle of being totally disorganized.”
“Aaahh. Well. Huh. Someone for everyone.”

“Mmmhmm. He’s wonderful. I’m really falling for him. There is a difference between fucking, making love, and being handled during sex. And Mr. White knows the difference between all three. I mean the pay is good, but I would do it for the sex if I could.”
“I don’t remember you being this cock-crazy.”
“Oh Marcus, once you find a girl that is the perfect fit, that is perfectly in synch with you, you will want her all the time. It’s like living near a donut store. You just end up eating more donuts.”
“Only in your story you’ve stuck your dick through the donut for him to eat off of?”
I gasp out a laugh and nearly spill my tea. “Marcus! My dick isn’t that tiny.”
He grins, stubbing out his cigarette. “Maybe I’ll find a girl who likes donuts and loves to clean in a maid uniform.”
“…Why don’t you ask Caroline?”
“….What? The waitress.”
“This is a coffee shop. She sells donuts. Ask her out.”
Marcus stares. He looks across the patio to where Caroline is talking to customers.
“Fuck it, I’m doing it.”

I watch him down his coffee, remove his smoke-scented jacket, then get up to go talk to her. Caroline goes back inside and I can’t see what’s happening. Marcus comes back after a long moment.

“So?? How did it go?”
He holds up a napkin with a smile. “Got her number.”
I clap my hands together. “Oh Marcus, congrats! What did you say?”
A sheepish look appears on his face and he runs his fingers through his hair. “Well she was kind of hesitant to date customers at work. So I thought about what you said – I asked her if she cleaned up at the coffee shop, and she said she did and hated it. I told her if we could get together sometime I’d clean her apartment for her in appreciation – in my underwear. And she said yes!”
My jaw drops and I choke back a laugh. “Marcus!” I’m delighted at his craftiness. “You sly dog. Congrats, again.”
“Mmm now you gotta teach me how to find fine men’s underwear and how to wash underthings in the tub or the sink.”
“Lucky for you Marcus, I am an expert.”

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Text is fictional. Source is too common to track down.