Tag: gay captions

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Aaand there. All done. Fresh and clean.”
I watched fondly as Dion smoothed the edges of the bandage. I couldn’t help but give him a little smile. “Thank you for changing that out. Makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Yeah it was pretty gross,” he admitted. “The infection is going away though. What matters is that your leg is gonna be fine right?”
“Yep. The doctor said the surgery went well. I should be able to ski next season. That is, if I don’t get into another car accident, of course.”
“Good,” Dion said, running his fingers over my thigh. “Does it hurt?”
I nodded. “I’ve been cutting back on the pills cause I’m scared of getting addicted to them.”
“Where does it hurt?”
I tore my eyes away from watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. I wondered how he shaved so close. I was always scruffy. “Um. It hurts here.” I pointed to the middle of the bandage.
I felt all the air rush out of my lungs when he bent over and placed a most delicate kiss against it. “Better?” he purred.

“Y-yes,” I said. “Also here.” I pointed to a spot on my thigh where a thick scab had formed. I was in my underwear, putting my legs on full display.
“Mmm.” Dion kissed it too.“
“And… here, on my hip, where it’s bruised.”
“Poor baby.” I tried not to gasp as his soft lips brushed my pelvis. He was so close to my crotch, that it was exciting me. I had no idea what sort of game he was playing. Dion was my best friend, but after my accident, he had been there for more than anyone else. He was the one holding my hand when I woke up in the hospital.
“And … here.” I pointed to my sternum, where the air bag had hit it. Dion pulled himself up towards me to reach it. He was so close now I could smell his shampoo. My heart was racing. The air felt thicker, warmer, and it wasn’t just because we were in Vermont, in June.
“Anywhere else?” he asked, his voice raspy. I never noticed before that he had little flecks of gold in his eyes.
“Yeah…” I murmured. “Here.” I placed the tip of my finger on my tongue, hoping, praying, he would take it this far.

Dion gazed at me, looking for answers in my face. I must have looked pitiful and desperate for his attention, all banged up and needy.
“There? What hurts there?” he said in a teasing tone of voice.
“I bit it this morning, eating breakfast.”
He chuckled, a low, velvety bass note. “You really are helpless without me to fix everything aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Here?” he asked, sliding his finger against my tongue. “Oh I feel a bump.”
I reached up and grabbed his wrist as vertigo swallowed me up. This was becoming too much, this close intimacy. It was going all too fast. “Dion-”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make that feel better too.”
Before I could protest, he dipped his head and pushed his full lips against mine. My jaw muscles clenched to kiss him back hard, then slackened so I could open my mouth and let him in. He rubbed his tongue against mine, kissing me so deeply he stole all the air right out of my lungs. I moaned, and released his retreating wrist so I could cup his cheek.
“Dion,” I gasped between his assaults. He spilled his pent up emotions into me. He was finally allowing himself to taste me and have me after no doubt telling himself for weeks that I was “only a friend”. I felt something nudge against my other thigh and I realized a moment later what it was. Dion was erect and jutting forward. He was wearing thin sweatpants over his jockstrap, I would later discover, and it betrayed him entirely. I resisted rising up underneath him to grind against him, as I was also full of need.
He broke the kiss, and he hovered over me, panting. “Wow,” was all he said. “You feel better?”
“Y-yeah. Better than any pill the doctors gave me.”
“Good.” He began to nuzzle my jaw, not minding the scratchy stubble. “D-…Dion?”
“Yeah?” he said, sounding distant and hazy.
“I have another problem now.”
“Hm?”
“Down there…between my legs. It’s a bit hot, and it hurts a little, because it’s so tight.”
Without even hesitating, Dion reached down and placed his palm over my cock trapped in my underwear. I inhaled, making a rather unsexy sounding choking noise. “Dion!”
“Yeah, that is definitely a problem. Mmn…wow you are really hard. You’re big when you’re hard. Can I…can I touch you, in your underwear? I’ve never gotten to play with a guy before. I’ve always…always wanted to.”
“Ooooh yeah, you can. You’ve done such a good job of taking care of me. I wouldn’t deny you anything.”
“Would you play with mine?” he asked, tilting his head.
“I’ll reward you for everything,” I rasped, unsure if this was really happening.
“Good,” he sighed, petting me. I whimpered. Dion took that as an invitation to kiss me back.This time, I could not resist the urge to frot up against him, and to my sheer delight, Dion squeeze my shaft and rubbed his own against my crotch. My vision began to swim, and my heart thudded in my chest as my dormant sex drive awake. Then, Dion pressed his weight on top of me and the edges of reality began to unravel.

______________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I know you’ve fallen asleep over there, which I’m kind of glad about, because I kind of feel like I’m going to cry. I mean – how dumb would it look to start crying in the middle of a park? Someone would probably go – what an asshole, dude thinks the sky is so pretty he’s crying. Or they’d think I’m on drugs. The truth is, I’m not on drugs anymore. I say the words aloud, just to hear myself say the words and have them be true: “I’m not on drugs. I’m not on drugs anymore. I was on drugs, but I’m not anymore.”

It’s funny – back then when I was a walking poster-child of Florida’s Biggest Problem, I would say the same thing out loud just to cement my denial. I’m not on drugs. I just take them occasionally. Once a day. I mean, I have a job, I’m not living on the streets. I’m not a drug addict. Middle-class white guys are not addicts.
I was so full of shit. I am now somewhat amazed I was able to play the game of mental gymnastics with such Olympic-level skill. The side effects of the drugs were so gradual that I was watching out for them, but I wasn’t prepared for the side effect of lying. Just making shit up all the time is exhausting. Hiding what you’re doing becomes exhausting. The guilt..the lies…the shame. That nagging sense that you’re on the brink of losing control, the paranoia that all your friends know – but they couldn’t know could they?

They had to know about the Vicodin, cause of my car accident and the back pain. But they couldn’t know how many pills. They couldn’t have any idea about the Xanax. Or the Percocets. Or the occasional jag of heroin. They couldn’t know I was going to realtor open-houses to raid the medicine cabinet, or I’d been shopping doctors for prescriptions.

I glance over at Jeffrey. I can’t believe he stuck with me this whole fucking time. I was sure when I got back out of rehab, he would be gone. He was the one who threatened to leave me if I didn’t get some fucking help. I was so blown out at that point that I was negotiating in my head how I was going to get out of this with my little magic pills intact – just go to rehab enough to look clean sober, get myself back down to when I was down to a pill a day – when he didn’t notice – and he would take me back. Looking back on it, I’m disgusted with myself.

Jeffrey does not deserve me. He deserves someone so, so much better. So much more whole. Someone who was not an addict.

Yet he stuck with me through this whole damn time. He kept visiting me, bringing me food and things I needed. Books. Better sheets. Chapstick. And as the drugs began to leave my system, the guilt moved in. I was able to see this man I’d been dating with clear eyes again, and the love came back. And once I let the love do the thinking for me, it began to fight the addiction in full force. I didn’t want to be in love Jeffrey under the influence. I could not do that to him, and should never have done it in the first place. I fully expected to get out of rehab and he would be gone, and I could never tell him just how much his love saved me.

But Jeffery was there in his red sedan, waiting to pick me up from rehab, to take me back to our new apartment in a new neighborhood where we were going to start over. We didn’t go back to normal though. He was scared of me for a week, unsure if the old Brian was actually back. 

I learned that getting clean isn’t just one act. It comes in waves, and most of those waves involves becoming aware of all the damage you’ve caused. Jeffery didn’t trust me. He would check our friends’ medicine cabinets before we went over there. He checked my pockets. Initially, Jeffery declined intimacy, of close contact, and preferred being friends in the same apartment. I was annoyed at him at first for pushing me away, but then I realized it was because Jeffrery was scared I was going to backslide and he was going to be betrayed and have his heart hurt again. They don’t prepare you for that in rehab.

We went to couples therapy. It got better. We celebrated five years together. I lost my job cause of the addiction, but I got a new one. I squeeze Jeffrey’s hand. It’s still getting better, every day.

Love conquers all. Shit, I’m crying in a public park. What a white guy thing to do.

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Alright, Tom. You know the drill. Won’t be much different than your usual exam. We’re just making your prostate is healthy before you get locked into chastity. You will be stimulating it a lot in order to release your build-up, so it’s important it’s 100% healthy. Hold your posture. That’s it.”
Tom sighed. He didn’t like other people touching his ass other than James. “Yes Doctor.” Tom adjusted his hands and tried to get comfortable. He’d been coming to this office since he was a kid, but everything else had changed – the doctor, the purpose of the visit, and well…the wall was a lot closer. If Tom recalled correctly, he’d smacked his head into it last time two times he had his anal health checked. No Sir, not this time. Tom was prepared. Tom was a bottom’s bottom. Sticking things up his ass was his idea of a fun evening. Nothing was going to –

Something cold suddenly pushed inside his tight sphincter and – bang! “Ow!” Tom exclaimed before he could stop himself.
Dr. Choudry chuckled. “Did you hit your head on the wall?”
“…No.”
“Sorry, I should have given you a little warning. People tend to tense up if I do, so I’ve learned not to.”
“I can handle it. I can take dildos bigger than your finger,” Tom sniffed, his pride wounded.
“Ok ok,” Dr. Choudry said with a smile. “I’ll put a note in your chart to give you a little warning next time. Alright, let’s see…everything feels normal. Cough please.”
Tom did so and try to resist the urge to pee, cum, and get hard all at once. God that prostate was a magical button. He could not wait to see how sensitive it got once he was not allowed an erection anymore. Not like he had much of a choice….James made that decision weeks ago. Tom didn’t mind as much though. James always seemed to have his best interests in mind. He liked that James pushed him a little. It really opened up his world to the potential of his own sex drive. Tom’s thoughts drifted to that time they borrowed the e-stim machine from Rick…

Tom was just getting used to that nice sensation of something up his passage when it slid out. He instintinctively looked over his shoulder to see where it went and if it would continue. After a moment, Dr. Choudry cleared his throat. “We’re uh, done. You can get dressed now.”
Tom tried to hide his slight disappointment. “Oh ok. Shit. That gave me a bit of a boner.”
“That’s normal, Tom. If you want, I can give you a moment to self-pleasure?”
Tom thought about it. “Let me text James.”
Dr. Choundry threw away his gloves and washed his hands. “You have such good discipline for such a sexually active boy as yourself.”
Tom smiled. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He texted with James, who was ready to respond, eager how his boyfriend’s appointment was going. After a moment, Tom lifted his head. “I’m not allowed to. He wants me pent up for tonight.”
“Tonight? What’s tonight?”
Tom bit his lip as he smiled. “Not sure. Maybe he’s going to finally lock me.”
Dr. Choudry was making notes. “Well use a lot of lube and play safe. I’ll bring you a cold washcloth to get your erection down.”

Tom sighed in relief. “Thank you Doctor. You know, since I started dating James, I’m starting to feel like the world is full of men who will gladly look out for me if they know I need a little help. I like that feeling. It feels …secure, I guess.”
The doctor clapped Tom on the shoulder. “I’m happy to hear it. As a doctor, my patient’s mental well-being is just as important as the physical. Anything to help keep you happy.”
Tom was sure if his cock wasn’t preventing him from putting on his pants that he would have hugged his physician.

When James picked Tom up from his appointment, he was amused to see that Tom got a sticker and a lollypop for good behavior.

_________________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I hear someone’s footsteps behind me. I can sense it’s Shea without him even saying anything. I ignore him though and focus on my task. My eyes remain closed. Then, after a moment I feel Shea’s breath on the back of my neck and his nose bumps my ear. I can’t ignore him nuzzling me, especially when he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Shea, I’m meditating,” I gently say.
“You’ve been meditating for an hour. I want you.”
“You want me how?”
“I dunno…I just want to be with you. This country air is making me feel romantic.”
“Really?”
“Mm hm.” Shea kisses the shell of my ear. “This is how i meditate.”
I chuff and open my eyes as I glance over my shoulder. “You’re distracting.”
He smiles, not at all feeling guilty. “Sorry.”
“I like it.”
Shea puts his second hand on my shoulder and rubs them. “Can we make out for a bit?”
“Make out?” I tease. “Like we’re in high school?”
“Yeah,” Shea replies. “I want to kiss you.”
“Is that so?” I ask, interested. “You don’t want my dick?”
“Dicks are good. I like dicks. Maybe we can get to that later. I dunno, right now…just want to kiss you.”
“Come ere, sit in my lap,” I offer.
“I’m bigger than you are,” he reminds me.
“Then you sit here, and I’ll sit on you.”
“Mm that’s a good kissing position.”

We trade spots. I sit down on his firm thighs and Shea wraps his arms around my waist. I slide my palms up his stomach as our kisses begin. Maybe he’s right about this country thing. The air is so clean and sweet here that everything else smells amplified. Shea’s own natural scent is present, warm and inviting, with a bit vanilla, a bit of sandalwood, with a bit of pheromones mixed in. I run my fingers through his hair and kiss him again and again. I don’t even notice my cock -or his – is painfully hard and leaking until half an hour later.

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Text is fictional. Source:

curatedeyeful:

Travis Stevens and Tyler Hill, in a scene for Helix Studios. (Link nsfw.)

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Haha, take that you ants!”
I fold my arms. Well, the view is extra nice today…kid’s got a great body. Shame he’s wasting his gift pissing on everyone. He’s much better fit for porn. I walk up behind him with loud enough footsteps so he can hear me. The kid turns his head around just in time to see me – but not fast enough. I grab those big balls of his, hard, until he’s shouting.
“Hey! Hey stop! Ow! Let go of me ow!”
“What are you doing pissing off my building?”
“Fuck you man!” he howls. “I wasn’t doing anything!”
“I was watching you and there’s piss on the ledge.”
“Leave me alone! Ow!”
I sigh.
“You’re not the cops! Fuck off or I’ll call the real ones!”
I laugh. “And tell them what? You were exposed publicly? Peeing in public? And trespassing on the roof?”
“I live here!”
“Which apartment?”
The boy tries to pull free but can’t. He curses. “14…14B!”
“Wrong-o, punk-o. There is no apartment 14. The condos stop at 10. Also, I own this building.”
He groans. “Fuck just let me go man! I won’t do it again!”
I lick my lower lip. “No…no I don’t think so. I think you need some time in my discipline room.”

The kid gets still. “What…?”
“The room where bad boys go to get re-educated and turned into proper, obedient young men.”
“You’re a fucking psycho,” the kid growls, spitting. It misses.
“You’re the one peeing on innocent strangers,” I remind him. “And I also have your big beautiful balls in my grip. You are rather helpless. Don’t worry. I won’t castrate you. You are worth so much more to me when you’re horny and dripping…”
The kid’s eyes are wide. He knows for the first time in his life he’s about to receive punishment for all the shitty things he’s done. I love it.
I pull him along, despite his protests. “Don’t worry. I have the penthouse. You will love the view.”

________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Master Abdul won’t stop staring at my slave. It’s making me crazy. I
admire my slave’s ability to not appear annoyed, but it not professional
for one man to be oggling another’s slave so shamelessly.

“Master Adbul,” I ask, popping a date into my mouth. “Are you here during this meeting or not?”
He
blinks, but manages to tear his eyes away. “My
apologies… just your boy, he is captivating. Where did you find him?”
“An
auction. In Persia. A nomadic boy, captured in war times…so many stray men,
and not enough villages to go back to, unfortunately.”
“Doesn’t he resent you for that?”
I
chuckle and eat another date. “Goodness no. He is very loyal, because I
also bought his sick brother and gave him to my sister. She healed him. As long as he knows
where his twin is, he’s very obedient.”
Master Abdul chuckles. “Why on earth do you give in to a slave’s feelings? That’s what the whip is for.”
“What, so he’ll resent me more? I think not.”
Master
Abdul did not like my answer. “Honestly, I think you should show the
boy that the world is cruel and unfair. The sooner he learns that the
better.”
Shah Mohammed speaks up. “Can we continue the meeting please?”
“Master Abdul,” I say, “He already experienced war. I think that’s cruel and unfair as is.”
“You should sell him to me…I would make him into an even finer slave.”
I scoff. “So you can fuck him and make him scrub your floors like a scullery maid just so you can watch his ass?”
He stands up, red in the face, “How dare you-”
Shah Mohammed stands up too. “Sit down.
Master Abdul, you’re acting a fool, openly coveting a man’s property
like that. How he trains his slaves is none of your business, and
jealousy is unsightly.”
Master Abdul grumbles and sits.

I
glance over at my boy. I can see the panic in his eyes, but not on his
face. He’s kept his position, his posture, his composure. My heart
swells.

We finish our meeting on taxes and then Master
Abdul excuses himself as quickly as he could, no doubt to find a whore
for the evening.

Shah Mohammed watches him go.
“Good heavens, he leaves such a bad taste in my mouth.”
“I have to agree… no manners, what so ever.”
My slave is busy making us a fresh pot of mint tea.

“Well, taxes are rather boring…maybe he wanted to escape that.”
Shah Mohammed chuckles. “Perhaps so.”
I sip the fresh cup handed to me. “Mmnn. Say, Shah…do you still like to watch?”
A smile curls under his mustache. “Oh very, very much so.”

I glance up at my slave. “Come here boy. Kneel before me. Please me.”
My slave does not flinch or hesitate. He simply passes me a cup of fragrant tea and kneels onto the soft carpet under my slippers.
“Any requests Sir?”
“Not too fast…take your time. Make me nice and hard.”
My slave parts my robes and finds my cock hidden inside. “Anything for you Sir,” he murmurs, nuzzling my thigh. His beard tickles my skin and one of my testicles. A moment later, he starts.
Across from me, Shah Mohammed sighs and sips his tea as he slides down into his seat. “Praise the heavens, that is a beautiful sight watching him suck you like that.”
I close my eyes and tilt my head back. “I’ll have to take your word on that, but let me tell you Shah, it feels marvelous.”

______________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

instructionsforboys:

Fuck yes, move that body, put on a show for your man, show off. You know you love the attention

If I could actually make coherent noises right now that weren’t mostly vowels or an array of moans, I would say to you that you’re either an idiot or naiive. I really think you’re just naiive. Do you not realize I’m not acting here? That it’s not a dance, or a performance. I’m not undulating around on the floor to appease you or to prop up your already puffed ego. I’m not being generous and trying to hide displeasure from an underwhelming fucking by over-compensating. 

I’m not moving like this on my own. My body is moving beyond the control of my mind, on its own, in response to the pleasure you are giving me. The way you fill me with your pillar of a cock and press your weight to my back side makes me hornier than a doe in heat. Did you notice I”m only half hard? I’m losing my mind here just by the way you’re stimulating my prostate. I can’t sit still, I can’t run away. This lust courses through my veins with no where to go, no way to disperse. Yet, I want more, oh god so much more, and I want it harder and deeper and slower and god do everything you can to me.

Do you think being on this floor on my knees is comfortable? You think I can’t smell the Pinesol under my nose? Don’t you realize none of it matters, because you’re fucking me so well that my brain has turned off that feedback so it can focus on the more interesting stuff? And it is interesting. It’s also driving me insane. Don’t say stupid shit to me while I’m in ecstasy. Mostly because I don’t want you to cheapen yourself. Why? Right now you are a God to me. Fucking act like it.

________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Terry heard the noise from the other room. He finished polishing his glosses with the little cloth he carried, then put them back on his face before he went to investigate.

I noticed the young man in the doorframe and the intense look of focus on his face at the officeboy he had bent over the table. “Oh Terry. You want a learning moment? Come here.”
Terry approached. “What’s going on?”
I gave the boy’s ass another swat. “Our officeboy here shredded a time stamped copy of an important document I needed from that medical office. And now I have to get another made and couriered from Downtown, but because it’s after 3 pm there’s going to be a surcharge. So he’s getting a spanking.”
“Is that so?” Terry asked, unable to tear his eyes off the bare curves of the officeboy’s back and ass.

I considered Terry’s reaction. I generally liked Terry. He worked here part time as a paid intern. Smart as he was handsome, Terry was 17 and already half way through university. Although the legal age of consent was 16 here, I purposely kept Terry sort of away from our officeboy as not to distract him so much; however, I could not pass up a lesson on education.

“Do your parents have a houseboy at home, Terry?”
He shook his head.
“So you’ve never had to discipline. Come here. I’ll show you. Come here, put a hand here on his shoulder, stand there…good. Now, when you strike you want to use an open hand and a flat palm. You want to strike here on the fattest part, too high or too low. If you strike the thighs, they can’t sit down and it’s uncomfortable to walk. You want to strike right in the middle and leave a lasting sting so…”

I trailed off. Terry wasn’t paying attention. He was gently caressing the supple curve of the boy’s already pink ass. I looked at his face, and that’s when I knew I had awakened something in there. Terry’s eyes were narrow and focused. He was feeling the heat of the early half of the spanking under his hand. Whatever Terry was thinking, he wasn’t saying anything, but I could tell by the small smile that was growing into a smirk that he liked it very much. He was still young, but he was getting the first inkling of what was his early alpha instincts. Terry was bright. No doubt he was sensing the power and thrill of having a boy under his thumb that needed guidance and direction. What Terry saw, no doubt, was raw material. Beautiful, golden, raw material. I was wondering what I had started when Terry spoke.

Terry was trying hard to keep his voice under control. “Can I try?”
“Try…?” I began. “Oh, you want to finish his spanking?”
Terry looked at me. “May I?”
“Mm I don’t see why not. How are you doing boy?”
“I’m – I’m fine, Sir,” he said meekly. He knew he was lucky to only be getting a spanking for destroying that document.
Terry licked his lower lip. “What a cute little ass. Ok, right in the middle…” He gave the officeboy’s ass a swat, making the boy squeak.
“A little lower,” I said gently. “And a bit harder.”
Terry tried again, and got a sweet cry from the officeboy.
“That’s it Terry. Good. Now give him fifteen of those.”

I stood back and watched with a knowing eye as Terry delivered. He had a knack for it, just as he did for business and math. Was there anything this wunderkind couldn’t do?

When Terry finished ten, he shook his hand. “Ow.”
I chuckled. “Forgot to tell you about that.”
After five more, Terry was done. “Looks good. Great work. Now, don’t forget aftercare.”
“Aftercare…?” Terry repeated.
“Yes. He’s nearly crying, you should say something.”
I purposely put Terry on the spot, to see what he would do.

Terry thinks, then pats the houseboy on the shoulder. “Sorry to have to cause you discomfort, but you made an error that was caused by not paying attention. If we can both learn from this, we won’t have to do this again soon. Now, how about I get you some tissues, and you can take a little break, drink some water  perhaps?”
The houseboy nodded, sniffling. “Ok. Thank you young Sir. I appreciate you taking time to re-educate me.”
“Good boy,” Terry said, the words slipping out of his mouth as natural as they could be. “Also, when you’re ready to return to work, let’s go over the shred pile and make sure nothing is mixed up in there that shouldn’t be destroyed.”

The officeboy stood up and nodded, wiping his tears with a tissue Terry had given him. “Good idea, Sir.”

Terry looked at me. I was astonished. I was sure my jaw was on the ground. Did I just let a teenager displace me? “Well done Terry. That was impressive,” I admitted.
Terry beamed.
I nodded toward the officeboy. “Don’t worry,  Remi, you’re still the best office boy we’ve had. You’re dismissed for a short break.”
The officeboy bowed his head. “Yes sir.” He pulled his shirt down and shuffled off. He was not permitted pants in the office, just his chastity device.

Then, it was just Terry and I.
“It seems you liked that,” I noted.
Terry shrugged sheepishly, adjusting his pants. “I dunno…I thought it was going to be awkward but when I got into it, I was just in this groove. I felt kind of connected to him. Does that sound weird?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. If it’s awkward, then you don’t have self-confidence, which means you’re not in control of your houseboy. Or officeboy. or whatever.”
Terry nodded. “I’m really glad you guys hired me for this internship. I’m learning more here than I’m learning in college.”
I raise both eyebrows. “Wow, why thank you Terry. We’re happy to teach here at Dunham Law.” I couldn’t help but thinking though that if we armed Terry too well, he would come back as a lawyer and crush us until oblivion. I made a note to offer him a job when the internship was over. I also made a little note to still keep him away from our officeboy for now. That was only cemented when I noticed Terry took a long bathroom break not an hour later.

______________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

mastera6:

A boy in this position has so much potential yet one of my greatest pleasures is runny my hands over his taut body, down his crack rubbing his hole and cupping his balls.

Sometimes it’s not the sum of the actions, but the message it sends – it says: “I can restrain you however I please, to display you, to make you accessible to me, and I will touch you however I like. You have no say. I just want you to know what it’s like to feel helpless, and remember that I can give that to you any time I want, for however long I want. And if I want to tie you up tight just to cup your balls and tease your hole…well I am entitled to that.”

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“What?” James asks, letting his hand hover over his rolls. I’m sure he’s thinking I’m mentally critiquing something about the way he’s holding chopsticks or eating his maki. When we go out for Japanese food, he always tries to impress me with his ease in adapting my culture and asks a lot of questions to get it right. But now, it’s not that.
I duck my face to hide my smile. “Nothing, nothing. I just…I like the view a lot. It seems stupid to say it loud but, I just realized that I could sit across from you like this for the rest of my life and be happy with it.  Only in the future, you’ll be wearing a button-up shirt, and then a polo, or maybe a cardigan, and …I don’t know. You’re still wearing a shirt from college.It just …feels like a beginning a guess.”
I busy myself with my miso, my face feeling hot.
James sets his chopsticks down and seems at loss for words.
“Seems stupid right?” I mutter, poking the tofu in the bowl.
“No no…it’s just-” James takes a sip of his water. “I was wondering if you’re psychic or something because I was thinking the same thing.”
My eyes widen. “Eh?”
“I mean, about sitting here with you. Well, not exactly. I was uh, trying to picture you in like traditional Japanese clothing…I don’t think you’d look good in a cardigan really.”

I laugh, freeing myself from discomfort. Now I can’t stop smiling. The words slip out of my mouth before I’m even aware I’ve thought them: “I love you, James.”
James puts his hand on the table on the rainbow scarf from today’s Pride, and I put my hand over this.
“I love you too,” James replies, trying out the words for the first time.

I feel like my heart’s going to explode. I suddenly want to kiss him very badly. I lean forward and James understands what I want. He lifts himself off the seat slightly and meets me halfway across the table. The kiss is gentle, sweet and warm, and then we sit back in our chairs and continue eating like nothing’s happened. Only now, we can’t stop grinning like idiots.

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Text is fictional. This is Derek Binsack and this post isn’t an attempt to personify him or assume his sexuality (although I’m pretty sure he’s gay).