Tag: gay captions

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Welcome home Da–mmmmhhh,” Lars melts into a kiss. “Hi Bretty. You taste like chocolate. I missed you so much today.”
“Me too. Been thinking of you all day Lars.”
“Have you?” he asks, batting his lashes. “You missed me too?”
Brett answered by pressing more fierce kisses to Lars’ mouth, plundering him, and leaving him breathless. Brett’s hands soon moved from Lars’ waist to his front and begin to unbutton his pants.
“Oh Daddy’s in a mood isn’t h-mmmphh – oh I love it when you use your tongue~ ah!”
Brett spun Lars around and bent him over the counter top. No time was wasted pulling down his pants until his cock spilled out and his pussy was bare. “Brett!” he cried. 
Brett fumbled in a drawer for lube, but couldn’t find a condom. Fuck it. No time. He slapped a little on, and grabbed tight onto Lars’ hips. “You’re going to let me in right?”
Lars didn’t even get the ‘s’ out in ‘yes’. Brett pushed into his lover in one swift move, making the boy cry out and clamp down tight around him. It gave Brett veritgo – god he loved it when Lars pulled him in! 

“Yeah that’s it, oh god yeah that’s it. Fuck I’ve been wanting your pussy all day, just wanted to see you take me, boy,” Bretty growled. “No – down. Stay down. No touching. Arms on the counter. That’s it.“
Lars obeyed. His body moved independently from his brain. When the angle changed, Brett slid in even deeper. Brett moaned as his pulasting cock was fully enveloped and Lars whimpered as Daddy relentlessly took his ass.. Strong hands cupped Lars’ pecs and squeezed. Lars began to moan as loud as Brett when the fabric of his shirt rubbed against his sensitive nipples. 

Then, when it couldn’t get any better, Brett’s paw-sized hands sought Lars’ cock and began to stroke. All of Lars’ bones just turned to wax. His head drooped. “Oh Daddy! Oh god..Daddy – just- ah fuck feels so good!”
“Not as good as you feel to me,” Brett cooed. “That’s it. Push back on me. Damn you are such a good slut for me. Daddy likes his good slut.”
:I’m your slut Daddy, forever Daddy – my pussy loves you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Brett snickered. He wrapped his arms around his boy’s thin waist. “It’s coming…it’s coming!-…aaaahh, there – there it is! Fuck!” Brett slammed into Lars like a freight train chugging with a hot engine. He bit his lip so hard it drew blood, and exploded into his boy’s body. Lars knew to let Daddy come first, and he was not far behind. When fingers teased his cockhead his knees trembled and cum gushed from his cock. 
“Daddy!” he squeaked. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!” Lars’ feet cramped from how tight he was curling his toes. “Ohhh Daddy~”

And then it was over. They stilled, panting, connected. The scent of pheromones and sex and cum floated around them. Brett took a moment to enjoy feeling human again and ran his hands over Lars’ body, appreciating him. 
“Now that’s how Daddy likes to be welcomed home.”
“Mmnn,” Lars responded, pressing his forehead to the countertop, feeling like he was only standing because Brett was holding him up. “The feeling is mutual.”

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Text is fictional. Full video here! I love it when Tumblr users source their shit.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

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.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“That was some good sex,” Amal says, exhaling.
“I’m surprised you can move,” I say, my voice tinged with admiration.
“I’m not moving for a while. Just going to enjoy this afterglow.”
“And you thought sex with a man wasn’t going to be as good as with a woman.”
Amal turns his head at me. “It wasn’t that. I was scared it was going to be better.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“And was it?”
“Yep,” he sighs, “Way better. The way I felt pounding your ass, man…being able to just let go. Just…fuck.” Amal takes another drag.
“Sorry,” I reply, smiling.
“No you’re not.”
“Absolutely not. When can we do it again?”
Amal chuckles. “When we can both move again.”
“Mmn. Give me twenty minutes. I’ll ride you,” I offer.
“Jesus christ, you’re going to make me into a chain smoker.”
That makes me laugh. I never thought corrupting a man could be so fun. Life could be so unexpectedly wonderful sometimes.

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Text is fictional. This is Ranveer Singh.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Scott heard rustling in the carpet of leaves trailing out of the woods behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, there you are.”
“You came,” Aaron said, looking pleased, despite his tired and red eyes.
“Yeah. I came here right from school.”
“This late?”
“I got detention,” Scott explained.
Aaron shook his head. “Always getting into trouble.”
“I can’t help it. I like to paint things.”
“Just not paper?”
“Not always.”
Aaron sat next to him, rigid. Scott put an arm around Aaron and pulled him against his chest. The boy immediately snuggled into him.
“You ok?” Scott asked.
“Yeah. Just…my dad, ya know. The Packers lost, so it’s worse.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m sorry he’s such a mean drunk.”
There was a moment of silence.
“My mom suspects things,” Aaron said softly.
“Us?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that bad?” Scott replied.
“Only if my dad finds out.”
Scott looked down. “I won’t let you get in trouble because of me. I’m going to ask my mom if you can come stay with us for a while.”
Aaron jerked his head up. “What?”
“…I overheard the teachers talking to your mom on the phone,” Scott admitted, “They said your grades are slipping.”
Aaron said nothing.
“Besides, I wouldn’t mind having you in my house.”
“Wouldn’t people figure out sooner that we’re…..you know.”
“So what? If your dad can’t get to you, who cares? I’d rather be open and happy than quiet and miserable.”
Aaron didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the neighborhood sprawl below them and listened to Scott’s heart beat in his chest. Scott, always the contrarian, the rebel. Scott the rock.
“Ok.”
“Ok?” Scott repeated.
“Yeah, ask her,” Aaron clarified.
“Ok, I will.” Scott ruffled Aaron’s hair. “Don’t you worry. Everything will be ok.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Scott kissed the top of his head, “It will.”

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Text is fictional. I had some trouble tracking the source. The original image is in color and used as a still in this Youtube video to solicit funds for a film narrative about homeless LGBT youth called Hooked. I think it’s actually a still from the promotional material, and not just yanked from elsewhere. If you want to support the project, the IndieGogo page is here.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“I know you’re both very horny and desperate for male validation, but you two are driving us men insane in the kitchen. Preparing Thanksgiving should be a fun, cozy activity. Your catty behavior is out of control, and you two need to learn to get along. Your Masters are brothers, so you will be seeing a lot of each-other. Maybe this punishment will change your opinions of each-other.” I turn to leave the bathroom. “Oh. I almost forgot, silly me! Where are my manners? Let me go get your vibrating buttplugs.”
“Mmmfffph!” 

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“I think I ate too much food.”
“I know you did.”
“Ugh if you know I did, then I definitely did.”
“Cause you ate mine too when I couldn’t finish it,” I chuckle.
Kip groans. “This holiday is terrible. Terrible for my stomach, my gym diet…”
“Your ass still looks amazing.”
“Does it?” Kip asks, hopeful.
“Like a big fat marshmallow.”
Kip sighs. “Thank god. I’m going to pass out for a bit. This anaconda needs to digest the baby antelope it just ate.”
I chuckle and kiss his head. “Ok baby. You do that.”
“…Why oh why, did I eat so much pie?” Kip mutters to himself.

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Ok, the potatoes are done, the salad is done, the turkey needs a little while longer. Ugh still have to cut the pies? Why won’t they cool! Ah shit, stir the sauce stir the sauce…that was all my orange peel so I can’t fuck up the cranberry sauce…still have to set the goddamn table too uuuugh…”
I walk into the kitchen. “Babe are you alright?”
“Fine! I’m fine,” Julian said tartly. “Just…you know, running a little behind.”
“If you’re a little late it’s ok,” I told him. That was apparently the wrong thing to say.
“No. No, it’s not. It’s important to me that we look punctual and productive. It’s our first Thanksgiving in our new house together, as a couple. It’s important to me that people think we’re fucking flawless and I got this shit.” Julian mutters something to himself about people thinking he can’t be in a relationship.

I stare at his butt and give him my pity from a distance. Julian had a bit of a rough start in life, and had to sell himself for a bit to pay his rent a few times in community college. All of his loser friends told him he’d end up a nothing, and his parents told him he was a failure and no one would love him because he was gay and an artist. I had been slowly excising the toxic fat out of his life, and replacing them with a more supportive circle of friends. Julian’s hang-ups emerged at times like this. He had to prove to himself he could do certain things. There was nothing I could do, except support him. I peeled apples for pies, made the coffee and did the dishes and Julian was happy with that. It was getting close to meal time though and his stress was off the charts. I couldn’t sit back and let him be so frazzled.

Julian turned off the cranberry sauce. “Good. Now it just has to cool.”
“Julian,” I said softly.”
“Hm?”
I walked up to him and guided him to the counter next to the stove. 
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I untied his apron and took the lube out of my pocket. “Helping.” 
“Wha – ah!” he cried out in surprise as cold lube slid down his crack. I unzipped my pants. That got his attention. “Wait – you aren’t? Right here. Honey this isn’t -”
But I was already pressed up against him, pulling his hips toward my cock. His tight hole fought me for a moment, so I rubbed my shaft between his cheeks and tried again. This time, he welcomed me. I pushed into him in three slow strokes, down to the hilt. Julian whimpered, one hand grabbing the counter, the other on my wrist.
I nibbled his ear and rubbed his hardening cock with my hand that had done the lubrication. “Move with me,” I purred.
I didn’t give Julian much of an option. We were close, skin to skin, and each thrust from my hips made him move with me. He groaned softly and we began to rock together. I wrapped an arm around Julian’s waist and counted how many times I pushed my cock inside of him – 1, 2,3…. at 8, his muscles tensed and he peaked. I pumped his cock with my tired hand until he fouted all over the counter and the cabinets, noises of bliss pouring out of his mouth. My original goal was to pull out and explode on his butt, but Julian had me locked in so good that I just filled his ass up with my cum. I felt him tremble as the heat flooded him. I breathed hard into his ear as I worked his slick member. “Shit,” I grunted. It was over almost as soon as it begun. “That was intense.”
“That was…that was…” Julian fumbled for words.
I pulled out and pressed myself against him again. I put both hands on his shoulders. “What you needed. You are much more relaxed now. I can feel it in your muscles.”
Julian leaned his head on me. “Mmmn… yes. What was I stressing over again? I think I might have a glass of wine.”
I smiled. “Why don’t you shower, get dressed in that nice blue sweater I bought you? The turkey has fifteen more minutes on it. Let me take it out of the oven.”
Julian turned a bit to look at me. “Ok. I’ll trust you with it. And check the bottom of the pies. If they’re cool, cut them ok?” 

I nodded and kissed him, then poured him a glass of wine and sent him to the shower. I spent the next fifteen minutes tidying and cleaning and cutting pies. I was setting the table when Julian came downstairs. When he walked into the room, I saw the look he was giving me and it stuck me to the floor. It was a look of pure adoration and love. He was glowing. He also looked fucking sexy in that sweater and slim cream pants. This was the Julian who had been struggling to come out for so long. I was so grateful our lives had intersected, and then merged. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Julian,” I said.
Julian smiled at me. “Happy Thanksgiving. How did the turkey come out?”
“Beautiful.”
He sighed in relief. “Thank god. Now I just had to go make gravy before-”
Ding dong!
“…The Martens get here. Early as always.”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Go make the gravy. I’ll distract them with wine.”
Julian glanced at his empty glass. “Yes, more wine is good.”

We laughed, and we kissed. I hoped we had many more holidays like this.

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

temptingdominance:

Maintain control with a firm hand. It will do more for him than you can ever know.

In Star Trek, there’s an iconic move called the Vulcan Death Grip, a signature of the Vulcan alien species. It renders enemies dead immediately, with what only appears to be a tight squeeze on the shoulder. Growing up, my dad would tease me endlessly about my incredibly strong grip and for a short while I was five I actually believed I could kill someone.. By the time I was a teenager and started using the gym in my high school, I still had to make sure not to hurt people when I said hello. 

As I got older and starting becoming exploring my lighting hot interest in boys, I quickly learned a new, interesting use of my Vulcan Grip – domination. I discovered myself to be a 100% top. Overpowering boys and the men, the more muscular the better, sent a thrill right through my veins and made my cock throb with the blood rushing down to it. I could pin just about anybody, or wrestle their hands away and put them where I wanted. Very few muscular jocks were strong enough to out maneuver me. It wasn’t that I didn’t liked being touched – I did – I just liked the control more. Most sensed my strength and submitted me to me, allowing me to position them and fuck them as I pleased.  

Then, I met Marcos. Marcos annoyed the shit out of me because he refused to be a good little bottom bitch. Marcos fought me every fucking step of the way to get his rocks off. I was still stronger than him, but when that little bastard kissed me in that deep, intense way he did, I got distracted and he could slip free. Taming him was exhausing, and the first time I had him, breeding his tight little brown ass was the sweetest victory I had enjoyed in a long time. By the time I was done, I had sweated buckets, was starving, and could barely move. 

I was astonished when Marcos came back to me at the bar, wanting a rematch. I nearly choked on my beer. “Not enough of a work out for you, Marcos?” 
“Oh I was sore as hell the next day,” Marcos admitted, “But the afterglow lasted three days… I need that again. I need to fight you.”
Well, it was not what I was expecting. It was interesting though, that was for damn sure. I peered at Marcos over my beer. “Alright. You got your wish. Wear your tightest underwear. It’ll be the most fun taking it off of you.”

Marcos showed up wearing long-johns, boxer briefs, and a jockstrap. 

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Yes. Yes, I’m available those days. Yes, I am hot enough for your fashion shoot. I am fucking perfect, matter of fact. I will look smoldering on paper. Uh huh. That’s a great rate. Anything else you want to know about me? What’s that? Well, my boyfriend locked my cock up for a bit cause I got handsy with another male model. Do I need the key? What’s that? I don’t need to be unlocked? Darn. Well, he’ll be happy to hear that. Yes, I understand it’s good to be obedient. You can expect that from me on set. Good. I’ll look forward to details from you forthcoming.”

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Text is fictional.