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“Mmmn.”
“Is that bad or not?” Atei asked.
“Hush,” Ro said.
Atei held his tongue, but he was nervous. He heard of carpal tunnel impairing musicians and writers, and he knew the rest of his life would never reach its potential if he had to deal with this hand pain… Atei slowly became aware of a strange warm feeling, but it seemed to be coming from inside of him.
“Wha? That feeling…”
“Hush,” the healer said again.
Atei felt scorned and held his tongue. The heater never burned him, but it was strange feeling the temperature move around like a small fish swimming in his bones. Then, it vanished.
The healer released Atei’s hand and he pulled it back on reflex. “…Well?”
Ro smiled at him and it made Atei uneasy. He knew Ro was far, far older than he looked, and only someone of tremendous skill and strong blood could do that. All the rumors he heard as a child were probably true. Deep down inside, sorcerers freaked him out

Ro smoothed his pants. “It’s not permanent.”
Atei exhaled in relief.
“You are making a mistake I see in a lot of young witches, male and female. When you summon, or cast, you tense your whole hand. Probably your whole arm. Some misconceived notion about how it makes you feel stronger. But the elements and the spirits don’t care if you’re tensing your hand. Your concentration and focus are much more important.“
“I tense?” Atei said, bewildered.
“A lot of young people do this after watching like, television and movies. The good guy powers up or something and his veins bulge all over as he screams and yells.”
Atei chuckled. “I know what you mean.”
“You’re putting too much stress on your casting hand. Considering you also use that hand to write and jerk off with-”
Atei choked.
“You need to be gentler to it, or you won’t be able to gain the skills you need to join a coven.”
Atei nodded, still in disbelief that such a disciplined man would say such a vulgar thing.
Ro went on. “You need to relax when summon or casting. It’ll be hard for you to retrain yourself, but if you want the pain to stop, you should.”
“Yes sir.”
Ro nodded. “I’m also going to give you some herbs to make a hand soak.”
“Yes sir.”
“And no casting or summoning for three days.”
Atei groaned. “I’m going to have to skip class tomorrow.”
“Yes. And-” Ro pointed a finger. “No jerking off with that hand.”
Atei blushed. “Hey.”
Ro snickered as he stood up and went to go gather the herbs. Atei watched him. He moved in an odd way that was almost uncomfortable to watch. Ro seemed to float, as his head and body didn’t move up or down, but his feet moved forward anyway. He also dressed in a mismatched way, wearing an old woman’s plum-colored cardigan and black shimmery leggings. Ro kept his hair long and braided.
As he waited, Atei massaged his hand and glanced around the parlor room. Everything in it looked incredibly old – the furniture, the little ceramics on the shelf, the dried flowers, the books, the wallpaper.
“Thank you for waiting,” Ro said, startling Atei.
“Ah, you’re back already.”
“Yes. It’s fairly easy to make.” Ro handed him a paper packet, then explained how to make the soak while Atei took notes on his phone.
“I think that’s all then?” Ro asked.
Atei felt the corners of his mouth pull. “You haven’t told me what the treatment is for not being able to jerk off.”
Ro raised an eyebrow. “Use your other hand.”
“But shouldn’t I worry about it getting sore too?”
Ro raised the second eyebrow. “You want me to prescribe you a tonic that will make you feel like you’re in heat right now? You’ll cum the sheets without doing a thing, and if you don’t get fluids you may die of dehydration by the third day.”
Atei’s eyes went wide. “Uh not right now no.”
Ro laughed. “I may have another offer that you may approve of more…”
“I won’t die?”
“Not likely,” Ro said, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.
“I’m listening.”
“I could relieve you.
Atei stared at him. "Is that a professional thing healers do?”
Ro shrugged his plum shoulders. “No. It’s not. But I’m old and weird and everyone’s scared of me. I know you like men. I though I’d ask anyway.”
“…Wait, how did you know I liked men?” Atei demanded.
Ro waived his hand vaguely. “Oh come on, I’m a sorcerer and you don’t think I have gaydar?”
Atei had such a blank look on his face that Ro covered his mouth and laughed. “I love messing with the young witches. It’s too easy. Well, sorry if I offended you. Good luck with the hand. Your school’s insurance will pay for the bill.”
Ro bowed his head and turned to leave.
“No, wait,” Atei heard himself say. “…I’d like to take you up on that.”
“Oh?” Ro said, one eyebrow up again.
“I know, I’m young. And still learning things. But you are fascinating. And odd, yes. But fascinating. I can’t say no.” To Atei’s delight, he got the healer to blush a little.
“Fascinating. Hm. That’s just a polite way to say weird.”
“Odd,” Atei corrected. “But unique. I like coming here,” he admitted.
Ro tilted his head. “Now you’re the odd one.”
“Hey.”
Ro waved again. “Do your hand soak tonight, and come back tomorrow evening. After dinner.”
“After? Why not before?’
Ro folded his arms. “I’ll be busy all day tomorrow during the day. Some student turned their classroom walls inside out. Should be a good challenge.” Ro yawned.
Atei cringed. “Yeesh. I’ve screwed up, but never that bad.”
“So, tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Atei repeated.
“Good. Take care of the hand. You know where the door is.” Ro waved and floated inside the house. Atei sat there a moment, wondering what just happened. Getting jerked off by a sorcerer was going to be scary, but Atei had a feeling it would be incredible. He wondered what it’d like to feel that heat-swimming-in-your-bones feeling in your cock. But there weren’t bones in the cock. Hm. Atei scratched his head. “Ow, damn hand…” He pressed the herb bundle to his nose. It smelled sweet, yet minty. “Let’s hope this works.” Atei had a feeling it would.

[To be continued.]

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Captions are fictional. One of my readers asked for a story about witches or sorcery or something, and this is what I came up with.

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Marcus laughed at the text message. He briefly messaged this guy Corey on Grindr a few days back, but never got a reply – that is, until 2 am. At that moment, Marcus was tired and annoyed, and ignored it for sleep, but now at 2 pm this showed up. Marcus had questions. Was Corey so desperate to fuck a bloke that it took him twelve hours to accept that he’d  have to sacrifice the muffins to get it? And what did Corey mean by ‘muffins’? Was he offering to bake them? Buy some? or was Marcus expected to provide? Maybe it was some sexual term. 

A quick check to the Urban Dictionary confirmed it was slang for ‘pussy’, which just amused Marcus more. Did his Corey guy get on the wrong app? And if he meant ‘pussy’, then why was anal not hidden under some food euphemism? It wasn’t like there was a shortage. Plus, did he just want to see a vagina or did he want to have sex with one? And anal? 

Marcus decided to put his TA skills to the test. He sat down on the sofa, eating a late afternoon snack of Cap’n’Crunch in his underwear – it was too hot after his shower to put on pants – and replied:

Thesis statement severely inefficient. To what context is ‘muffins’ applied? Are you exploring acquiring or conceiving such muffins? Are you exploring ‘muffins’ as a cultural appropriate of the female body, or are you simply researching baking? Also please relate how your interest in anal – presumably anal sex? – ties to your core topics. Then he hit send.

Marcus didn’t expect Corey to respond and got distracted with Tumblr. Someone was posting hot ballet boys and he was enjoying scrolling. As he was getting down to the milk in his bowl, Corey actually responded. Marcus flipped out and opened it immediately.
Corey: WTF bro.
Marcus chuckled and texted back: Still waiting clarification over here. Were you high?
Corey replied: Nah bro…pastry arts student. Was up to 3 am yesterday testing recipes for class. We had to make muffins without any recipes. Was too horny to sleep. 
Marcus: Oooohh. 
Well, most of the mystery was gone. 
Corey added: I might have also been high, actually. You know, #bakingbaked?
Ok so, that explained it. Corey was chatty of all of a sudden.
Corey: So I was going through old Grindr messages. I missed yours.  You’re hot. I’d fuck you, bro. Still would. 

I waited for an obvious follow-up but when he didn’t, I had to beg the question.
Marcus: But…are there still muffins?
Corey sent him a photo, and Marcus had to laugh. The counter in his kitchen was piled in at least four dozen muffins. Layers of them, all haphazardly stacked and smooshed under glass domes. I may have muffins.
Marcus: Are they good?
Corey: Yeah they’re great. Just really crumbly, or sweet or something. Experiments 2, 4, 5, and 8.
Marcus: What happened to the rest.
Corey: Uh…mistakes were made. There was a fire. 
Marcus hooted. He scrolled through Corey’s photos again. Get laid now, yes or no? Hm…. His fingers flew over the keyboard: So…anal and muffins?
Corey replied instantly: Fck! Yeah! Are you a muffin top or a bottom?”
Marcus found himself liking this guy more and more. Maybe he was still high but he was entertaining. Bottom. 100% bottom twink.
Corey: U on campus?
Marcus: In Reinheart dorms.
Corey: Fuk yah. I’m in Ross Dorms. 415. Bring milk.
Marcus grinned: I just showered. Be there in ten. 

As Marcus put his bowl in the sink his roommate came home. “Oh hi Ben, bye Ben!”
“Uh hi and bye and where are you going and without pants?”
“Don’t need pants,” Marcus explained as he took the milk out of the fridge, “I’m going to the next dorm to get laid.”
“…At 2 in the afternoon?” Ben asked.
“Dude, there’s muffins involved.”
Ben perked up. “Bring me some.”
“Will do!”
“But put on pants, please. You have to go back to your room to get condoms anyway.”
“Uuuhhh fine, Dad,” Marcus said in a dramatic, queeny voice. He came out wearing pink sweatpants that said ‘Juicy’ on the ass.
Ben sighed. “Work in progress. By the way, who is this guy?”
Marcus picked up my keys on the end table. “Corey in 415. See ya!”
Ben watched his roommate go then dove for the cabinets. “Wait, wait, take a tupperware container for the muffins!”
“Oh my god Ben seriously?”
Ben shrugged. “A man’s got to have priorities.”
“And right now, mine is getting laid.” Marcus plucked the tupperware out of his outstretched hand then turned left with a smile.
“Have fun with the Muffin Man!” Ben called
“Oh fuck you seriously.” And then Marcus closed the door behind him, listening to Ben laugh to himself in the kitchen.

Corey in 415 turned out to be a hot little stud muffin himself, a somewhat husky but handsome pastry student and budding chef who spent too much time in the kitchen and not enough time in the bedroom. Marcus made sure to remedy that, as he did for the rest of the school year. His waistline was not too happy about Corey’s talents, but that’s why the gym was invented right?

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Text is 100% fictional and Corey’s personality is fictional as well. This post came from the Tumblr straightboystexting​ but it just struck a chord with me and I had to write this silly (gay) thing.

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“Hey Jake, if you’re not too busy later, perhaps you could join us on the beach. We’re having a barbeque, and watching the fireworks they’re setting off on the other side of the bay.”
I tried to focus on the words he was saying and not just the perfect mouth attached to the beautiful face they were coming out of. “Um. Yeah, sure, I’d like that. Are you sure I won’t be intruding with all your friends though?”
Sven pulled down his red swim shorts and out popped the most roundest butt I had ever seen. My jaw dropped. “You’re not intruding at all. Come by later. We’ll have fun.” He then winked, pulled his pants off, and jogged to the sand. “Happy 4th, Jake!”

I stood there, looking pithed. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember what my other plans were for this evening…

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Text is fictional, source is below.

curatedeyeful:

Mick Lovell, photographed for Bel Ami. (Link nsfw.)

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Todd told himself he would stop flirting with boys on the N train. He really meant it this time. But that boy across from him is damn adorable, and definitely flirting. Todd convinces himself that it’s OK to break his rule this one time because the other guy started it first. Clearly. Todd licks his teeth and enjoys eyefucking the other stranger back, marveling at the sight of the half-chub between his legs wrapped tight in blue denim. When the cutie gets off at his stop, Todd follows him all the way home and into his bed. No bait and switch here – that bulge was just as advertised.

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Text is fictional. One of these guys is Ben Baur and this is from the web series Hunting Season.

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He hired me to shoot commemorative photos of his graduation from the The New England Conservatory in Boston. He said he wanted at least one picture of him with his violin where he didn’t look exhausted. I asked why he selected me because although I’m a portrait photographer, I normally do artistic nudes, bathing suits, homo-erotic, and other fashion related gigs. He said he liked that my subjects looked “real”. I had no idea what that meant, but I accepted it as a compliment anyway.  

Shooting a violinist was a fresh challenge though. Violins are only held one way – under the chin to one side, so there’s really two poses: that one, and clutching the violin in their arms. So boring. We shot at least 300 pictures in those poses and nothing was gelling. My client began to look restless. I sensed he was considering if it was too late to ask for a refund. Running dry on ideas, I decided to resort to what I know best – the human body.

“Why don’t you take off your clothes?" I suggested, then had to supress a laughing after I saw the expression on his face.
"Are you serious…?” he gaped.
“Yes, absolutely, I shoot artistic nudes, not class pictures. You told me you work out at the gym so your arms are nice and muscular – the lighting right now is perfect, nice and soft, we don’t have to even adjust anything. I think it’d work better than the sweater you’re wearing. It doesn’t make good shadows.”
I could nearly hear the gears in his head. “I’m…I can’t show this to my mother…”
“Well, we took a million photos of you looking quaint in a sweater with the violin, send her one of those. I’ll give you a deep discount on the rights to this picture.” He was still thinking, so I decided to close the deal. “Besides, the violin doesn’t play itself right? It’s just wood and rosin and …stuff… You’re the genius here. I was hired to photograph a violinist wasn’t I?”

A sly grin spread over his jaw. “Persistent aren’t you? You make a point. Alright. I’ll do it. But if these get out on the internet…”
I scoffed, “And ruin my reputation? No thanks.”
He set down the precious, expensive violin in its case then methodically undressed as if he was at the gym. I provided a chair out of frame for his clothes. When his underwear slid off, I tried not to gasp. or stare. or ogle. Well, look at it, really. He had a much bigger penis than I would have guessed, one of the biggest I’d ever seen on a man. I am glad he couldn’t see me blushing behind the camera. 

He muttered something about being happy to get rid of the sweater as the lights were making him hot as he picked up his violin again. Initially, he was shy and tried to cover his crotch with his instrument.

“No no no, that’s…that’s gross. Seriously, your violin isn’t sexual like that. Raise it up, above your head, high! High yes! Drop your elbow. Other elbow.” I set the shutter off in such rapid fire succession that it sounded like I was emptying a magazine clip. “Shift your weight to one hip…god, beautiful!” My inspiration went through the roof; suddenly I was excited and invigorated and barking out lots of new directional cues until he slid into just the right jaunty pose and I knew we had a winner.

I told him to relax a moment and popped the card into my computer to check. While glancing at them in thumbnail mode, I noticed an obvious different from the first and last picture as his cock had began to lift from between his legs. He was getting hard under the attention. It was impossible not to be aroused by this. Stupid day to not wear underwear. Oh man..then it saw it. THE picture. His eyes were closed by accident, but it was meant to be. 

When I came out of my office, he was playing a pretty little melody.
“We did it,” I announced, “I got the best photo of you…wanna come see it?”
“Sure!” he didn’t seem to mind his nudity anymore and jogged over to my computer. I showed him it and he turned red all over. “Wow… my cock looks huge in this…”

I laughed, “I think it looks artistic. You have a really gorgeous body. I mean…as a gay man myself, I’m a little jealous.”
“You’re…gay?”
“…What, it’s not obvious?”
He waved his hand at me. “I have terrible gaydar, anyone will tell you,” then went back to concentrating on the photo, “I really like the look on my face. My hair looks cool.”
“Yes yes,” I agreed eagerly, “I also like how the violin is half out of frame. It’s not the focus of the shot anymore. You are.”
“Yes. I …I really love it. It’s going to take some getting used to, seeing myself nude but… you really captured how I feel when I play. When I watch videos of my performances, it looks like that.”

I wondered how he looked when he was orgasming. Ugh my brain was not behaving itself. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Well, I think we’re done for today. You can get dressed now…if you want.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “If I want…?”
Color rose to my face. “I um. Er. Sorry, that just slipped out. Sorry. Not professional.”
He sat on the edge of my desk, “You want to touch my cock don’t you?”
“You’re my client, that is not how I do business!” I stammered.
“Oh come on, I saw your eyebrows go up when I took off my pants. I know a reaction to a big cock when I see one. Come on, I’m really happy with your work…take a tip. Literally." 

When I didn’t say no, he got up and shut the door trapping us both inside the office. I’m so glad he made that decision for me, I couldn’t wait to stroke it, pet it, arouse him – of course, I had to take pictures of him in heat. Needless to say, he got batches of erotic photos for free. Also, I learned a valuable lesson that day in cleaning cum off my camera lenses. 

From then onward, anytime he needed photos taken he’d call me. Afterwards, we’d always go into my office to review the photos, always with the door closed. It went on this way until he called me one day, asking to shoot his engagement photos. I made them do nudes too.

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Post is fictional. Model is the interestingly named Czyz Otto. Watermark has been photoshopped out; the photographer is the super talented Tom Silk. Lotta beautiful dick in his portfolio.

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He jogs past my house six days a week, always at 8:38 sharp.. He must be a long distance runner because I’ve never see him any of the local shops. I always am on my porch with my tea, waiting for him. He’s totally gorgeous, lean and muscular, always sweaty. Ok, I have a little man crush alright? One of these days I swear I’ll talk to him, ask if he needs water or something, but I’m terrified that what’s going to come out of my mouth will be, “Hey do you want to use my shower?” I’m even slightly more worried that he’ll say yes because all the blood will run to my cock and I’ll faint on the porch, probably get a sexy concussion in the process. So, I’ve started leaving those little 8 ounces bottles of water on the sidewalk for him. The first time he picked one up and waved at me, I almost squealed. God, why does he make me feel like a teenager again?

sorrygirlsisuckcock:

http://sorrygirlsisuckcock.tumblr.com/