…Plants? Wait, am I misinterpreting this? If there is a section of Tumblr where boys enjoy being potted and put in a corner, someone please show it to me. I would be delighted if the porn videos consisted of two hot guys talking about how their ficus trees are doing so well this season.
“Hey there. Are you Donovan?”
“Yeah are you Ken?”
“Yep. I’m your Ubyr driver. Get in.”
Donovan flashed a brilliant smile and got in. “God love your car.”
Ken glanced at him. He could hear a distinct lisp. “Thanks man, refurbished it myself.”
“I’m not really into cars. I should be. I’m kind of a shame to men everywhere, I’m really such a queen.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with that,” Ken insisted. “I pick up a lot of gay guys from this part of town – but usually at night. Not during the day.”
Donovan shifted in his seat, unable to pry his eyes off the hottest Ubyr driver he’d ever seen. He was scruffy on the chin but well groomed above. Every hair on his eyebrows and head looked effortlessly in place. His chin was a perfect piece of stone, much like the slate slabs of his chest. Donovan thought the company who made that shirt should pay him to model it. He realized Ken was eyeing him too.
“Oh um,” Donovan said, flushing a little. “Sorry. Yeah I usually am here at night too. I had to pick-up a paycheck. If I pick-it up at night, it tends to get lost. I’m a dancer, so uh, no pockets you know.”
Ken was interested. “Dancer? Like…on the box dancer?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I know, I’m such a slut. But what can I say? I love the tiny underwear, the attention, the music. And the men. Oh god the men!”
Ken grinned. “The men and the money are good?”
"Exceptionally.”
“You get to see the other dancers naked?”
“All the time!” Donovan replied with a laugh. “It’s a sausage factory. So many beautiful men. Shame though, the club doesn’t allow us to have relationships with other dancers. God sometimes by the end of my shift I’m so goddamn horny -” he suddenly quit talking and the red hue on his cheeks deepened. “Sorry I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“No no,” Ken insisted, taking a turn. “I like hearing about it. I’m into guys too you know.”
“Oh really?” Donovan nearly dropped the bottle of water he was taking out of his satchel.
"Mm. Hence why I’m in this area all the time. Lotta hot boys.”
A lady cut in front of them, and the topic changed to the sheer amount of bad drivers in Los Angeles. As Ken steered the car toward Donovan’s gym, a silence settled in. Donovan sniffed the air. It was a faint smell, but it was hard to deny. It smelled familiar, a bit sour, a bit like sweat. “Do you smell that?” he asked.
To his surprise, Ken blushed. “Ah…shit.”
“What.”
“It’s me,” he admitted , running his fingers through his hair. “You’re smelling me. Don’t laugh, but I got this massive hard on right now. Been having one all day cause I didn’t wank off this morning. It’s just sitting there in my shorts, and now it’s leaking everywhere from just what you told me. I’m sorry, this must be such an awkward Ubyr ride for you.”
Donovan was stunned. He could smell the scent more distinctly now. Rich, peaty. Moist. It made his own cock stir. He found it distracting to be sitting next to a man so obviously aroused. “No no, not too awkward. I mean – it’s just cock. We both have one…I mean…” they stopped at a red light. “Would you like me to relieve it?’
Ken shot him a look. “What? Really?”
“Sure,” Donovan said a little coyly. “I like cock. You are a hot looking guy who needs his cock serviced. I don’t suppose you take those kinds of tips?”
Ken had trouble keeping the car straight as he drove. “I- I would be down for that.”
Donovan didn’t need a second to reconsider. He nodded eagerly. Ken unsecured his pants with one hand and gave Donovan access. Donovan snaked his hand down there and gasped when his fingers touched the thick snake coiled between Ken’s thighs. It was searing hot and very wet. His underwear was soaked, the exposed tip covered in a web of sticky pre-cum which was also smeared over the long set of balls laying underneath.
“Goddamn,” he gasped.
“Ohhh shit,” Ken replied hoarsely. When Donovan wrapped his palm over him, he ejaculated by default. Donovan squeaked. “Oh wow, you just shot out a waterfall.”
“Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to cum, I just – I told you I was horny,” he stammered. “Felt so good just for you to touch it, I just lost it.”
“Pull over,” Donovan begged. He wanted to get in there with his tongue.
Ken turned down a side street and found a piece of curb. Ken threw back his seat and Donovan pushed his pants open, and his underwear aside. The scent rose to meet him, making his own cock harden in his pants. This man needed care. It was a pretty cock, thick and hearty too and Donovan wanted it. He dipped his head and licked at the base of it, cleaning the mess off the root and public hair.
“Holy fucking crap,” Ken exclaimed.
Donovan tried not to snicker. He loved getting this reaction from his partners. He knew the meter was running, but he still took his time cleaning Ken’s cock with kitten licks. It was half soft and in no time at all, Donovan had coaxed it up to full hardness. It was only then did he fix his lips around the head and slide them down to the base. Ken twisted his finger’s in Donovan’s hair, groaning in disbelief.
He watched in a daze as Donovan bobbed his tawny head, sucking enthusiastically. He couldn’t resist thrusting up into him as the orgasm encroached.
“Yeah yeah, lick it – aaahhh good, fuck your mouth is so hot.” Ken twisted his fingers in the hem of Donovan’s shirt.
Donovan hummed his approval and that sent Ken over the edge. He cried out and thrusted up hard, pushing his cock down Donovan’s throat. He emptied his balls straight into his stomach.
“Fuck!”
Donovan did not seem to be disturbed about his second orgasm – he didn’t flinch or gasp or choke, he just diligently nursed the swollen flesh and cleaned up its mess. He had a death grip on Ken’s thigh though. Donovan’s pulled his mouth off of Ken’s twitching cock, and his velvety tongue drifted away from the shaft, down to the balls. He drew each into his mouth, bathing it in attention, before sucking on the sac.
Ken listened to his own breath hitch as he watched Donovan give him such wonderful pleasure. Normally blowjobs were done hastily, often in shady areas like the back of bars or in the lobby of apartment buildings. Donovan was a talented one, with a real love of dick. A rare gem.
“Holy fuck,” Ken said again. “You are fucking amazing at that.”
Donovan chuckled. “Natural born talent. Also, your cum is delicious. What did you do to it?”
“I – I don’t eat processed foods?”
“Mmn.” Donovan wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “I’m gonna want that again.”
“You want my phone number?” Ken quickly offered.
“Hell yeah I do!”
Ken gave his number and Donovan put it in his phone. They reclined back in the seats and relaxed for a minute.
“Shit,” Ken said, “The Ubyr meter is still running isn’t it?”
Donovan shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’m still going to the gym after this.”
“You must have my energy cause you drained me of mine. Hey…” Ken eyed the bulge in Donovan’s shorts. “Want me to take care of you now?”
“Mmm I’d like that. I’d like that a lot. You are a very good Ubyr driver. Five stars for sure.”
__________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Source NA. I felt weird writing Uber or Lyft porn, so I invented a fictional ride-sharing company for the sake of it.
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.
He came over for a little math tutoring, but I knew he was a lost cause the second he walked in the door.
“Hey bro, I was thinkin, it might help me think smarter if I put these on.” He held up a jockstrap with numbers embroidered on the wastband. Where did he get such a thing?
“Do you now?” I ask, arms folded.
“Yeah, anything to help ya know. My mind works best when I’m thinking about sex.”
“Does it now?”
“Uh huh. I figured we’d get along fine if were on the same page, so I got you one too.”
“Did you now?”
“Yeah I did,” he says, lifting the other one and grinning.
“Well,” I say, taking it from him. “That was thoughtful of you. I definitely think this will help teach you math. For our first lesson, I’m going to teach you how 1/1 cancels itself out when divided.”
“Golly, that sounds difficult.”
“It isn’t really…all you gotta do is lie there, and listen, while I teach.”
“I can handle that!”
“I know you can. Now put that jock-strap on so we can get started. I’m billing by the hour here.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been saving up. My education is very important to me.”
__________________________________________
Text is fictional. Source, I think. Lotta butts there.
That moment when you feel Sir’s cock hard-on inside your mouth, he puts his hand on your head and tells you you’re a good boy.
Even if his erection is in your mouth, you don’t dare start to orally pleasure him without the command. Perhaps He simply wishes to remind you of your place to Him. It is not your duty to assume your Master’s intent. Contentment floods through as you hear his praise: good boy. You live for those words and will not prove him wrong. The fear of disappointing him is worse than any punishment He could imagine.
“I…um, I – ” Wait. Why am I panicking? Why is everything shriveled up in fear that I’ve been caught? Isn’t this what I wanted? Isn’t this what I’ve been fantasizing about for so long? This what I imagined, on dark lonely nights, with my cock in my hand. I took so many days to think about the guilt I felt for wanting to be used without any consent, while others suffer legitimately at the hands of rapists. In the end, I couldn’t excuse it or deny wanting to be treating like a lesser being. I want him to shove it inside of me. I want him to breach me. I want it to be tight, and I want it to hurt a little. I want it to feel hot, and stretched, and to feel as if I have no choice but to submit to him. Or any man. I want them all. I want them to give me orders. I want them to take me and objectify me. Haven’t I always wanted to be a whore? Haven’t I always wanted the attention, the loss of control, the borderline abuse? Is it what I really want, or what I think I want. What will happen if I say yes? Will I get HIV? Will I bleed? Will there be more and more men? What if I say no, will they take me anyway? God, why do I want that so badly? Why is it all so thrilling?
It’s not like I’m going to stop staring at their dicks after this. I love watching water pour off of their cocks, watching them jiggle and bounce between their legs as they wash. I love the sight of a naked man. What should I tell them, that if they just show me their penises, they can control me like a robot? Cause they could. I want them so badly.
In the end, the words don’t won’t come out. My throat is tight, my heart racing too hard. He’s kissing my shoulder now, each burning like a brand as they trail up my neck. I can hear my breathing, which seems loud and obvious, even above the noise of the shower. I swallow. Hard. I’m aware my cock is comically erect, jutting forward and up, and slightly to the left. I reach behind me with both hands for Giovanni’s thighs. I brush my fingers against it, then up, blindly navigating. I reach behind and pull him forward, against me. He makes a chuff of surprise. I can hear it, since he’s so close to my ear.
“Oh you do want it huh?” he says, sounding pleased. He pushes his soft member between my cheeks.
I whimper and push back against him. It’s not so much of a whimper of need, but one of surrender. Of helplessness, that I cannot control or stop myself from encouraging him to fuck him. My slight actions invigorate him and he pushes back again.
“Yeah whore, just what I thought. Well you’re going to get what you wanted.”
I cry out as he shoves me against the wall and twists my arm back, pinning it against my spine. The cold tile makes my nipples peak.
“You should have just asked.” He cups my ass then drags his fingers down the cleft. He brushes over my hole and it twitches. This seems to amuse him and he chuckles. “So needy…” he pushes one inside. My body clenches, but it is in play. He works his digit in and out of me, and it feels huge and invasive. A second finger joins, and then a third, and I’m already gasping and hissing and trying to relax.
“You’re so very very tight…this is going to be so much fun,” he murmurs.
Then, they’re gone. I already feel the loss. The fullness. I miss it. He releases my arm but tells me to stay. I do. I hear something open and click shut. I can’t tell what he’s using but I hope it won’t burn.
Then, I feel his strong hand against the back of my neck and something blunt pushing between my legs. I want to be your whore. I remind myself, and my muscles relax. He breaches and the entire shaft of his long cock slams inside of me. In one motion, he is in me to the hilt. I squeeze my eyes tight and tears form in the corners. It does hurt, but it so marvelous, the pain! The sweet, delicious hot blooming pain mixing with the pleasure knotting in my gut! Pre-cum drips out of my cock and smears against the wall. He’s panting just from that and nuzzling my shoulder.
“I like that you’re fighting me a little…but you already know you’ve lost ‘aven’t you?”
I nod. But I feel like a winner, because he’s making my fantasy come true. No condom. No consent. I am his.
He keeps his hand on the back of my neck, one hand on my hip, and begins to thrust. He’s steady at first, as if exploring his new toy, testing angles and positions. I moan and sob and find myself pushing back every time he withdraws.
“Stay still, whore,” he says. I am horrified to find myself looking around, hoping for others to be watching, but we’re sadly alone. There is still time for men to come in. I hope. I feel disgusting, and I love it.
I am open to him now and he realizes this, fucking me in sets of steady thrusts. He will go for a while, then lose his rhythm, pause, adjust, and start over. The hand on my hip reaches around, ignoring my cock, and instead pulls at my balls, pinching them and making me squirm.
“You horny bastard,” he chuckles, as I drool seed onto his wrist. I’m surprised how chatty he is, when I haven’t said a damn thing.
He turns off the water, and the sounds of water dripping and our copulation echo in the shower room. I can hear myself too, as if I am out of body and listening from the locker room, crying out, moaning, groaning, making all sorts of embarrassing beastly noises as he torments my prostate and all my nerves.
“Yeah, yeah yeah!” he exclaims as his orgasm looms near, only in his English dialect it comes out as “Yeh yeh yeh”. He slams so hard in me that I choke on my own spit. I clamber on the wall for grip, my pruned fingertips sticking like lizard toes to the wet tile.
He’s taking me so hard, that I have nearly gone numb. I gurgle, and then gasp as his semen floods inside of me. It’s like lava pouring out of his tap, gallons of it it seems, filling the entirety of my bowel. I imagine his balls to be enormous and heavy and I shudder to think he’s put all of its content in me. “Oh god,” I sob.
He doesn’t seem to have realized I’ve spoken. He’s resting his forehead against the back of my neck, breathing low and slow. Both his hands are on my waist, and he’s giving me slow thrusts to milk the last drops out of his cock. Suddenly he hisses and pulls out. “Fuck, sensitivity,” he grumbles. The plug is gone and his seeds pours out. I hate that. I wish he would stick his thumb back up and plug me. To my relief, he reads my mind and pushes his batter back inside of me with his fingers.
“Oh very, very nice, you look so beautiful with my cum all over your asshole.” He pets me there and I tremble, and ejaculate all over the floor with a cry.
“Woah!” he says, stepping back. He laughs. “You even cum like a dirty whore, just losing it all over the place when a man touches you on your cunt.”
My chest is heaving like I’ve run a kilometer. My head is spinning, and the room is turning in circles. I feel like I’ve been put through the wash cycle. It doesn’t feel like I’ll ever be horny again, then-
Then I hear the other voice.
“What’s all this then?”
“Oh, I just had him, that’s all. He kept staring at my cock, so I just gave the whore what he wanted.”
“Did you now?”
“Aye I did. He loved it too. Still cant move,” he snickers.
“Well now that’s mighty interesting. He’s stared at my cock plenty.”
“Why don’t you have a go at him then? He’s plenty sticky inside, but I don’t got no diseases or what not.”
“Oh you warmed him for now? How nice.” The man’s voice is deep. He sounds huge. I don’t dare to look, but I just close my eyes, and hope, and pray… and then there’s a hand on my hip.
I shouldn’t appear too eager, but I am trembling in anticipation and he can sense it. When he breaches me, he isn’t delicate, and I melt against him so we can move together. He likes this and puts an arm around my waist, I reach back behind him.. It’s like being taken by a bear. My balls are empty and my cock bounces at half mast in front of me. They have reduced me to a sexual being for their entertainment, and I never want it to stop. I will always be a whore.
_________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. The original poster’s Tumblr has been deleted so if anyone knows what movie this is from, lemme know. A reader has informed that this is from the short film Homophobia. It doesn’t end like this story, trust me.
Look-outs were the worst. It was you, alone, in this old blue car parked a crumbling curb in some shitty neighborhood. Ace would go inside and negotiate deals on territory so his dealers didn’t get shanked for being on the wrong corners. Ace’s business was growing; he recently inherited a bunch of territory in a compromise deal. Cabrini liked that. It meant more money for him and for his expensive toys. Electronic toys. Toys with motors. Toys that made things explode. Yet sometimes he felt a bit like Ace’s dumb watchdog, sitting out here in the car while Ace went off and did all this shady bullshit. He smoked his cigarillo and gazed out across the empty suburban street at the ramshackle houses tucked behind huge trees. With a cul-de-sac behind him, he only had to watch in one direction.
It was 2 pm on a Tuesday. There was no one here. He sighed and tapped his ashes on the ground. Boring boring boring. Soon they would hit the forty minute mark. At least Cabrini had one thing going for him. Ace had left his faggot in the car too. He didn’t know much about him, just that he was some drug runner from Ace’s original outfit that had fucked up in some way. Ace had found much better use for him as a faggot, and the boy seemed quite content with that. Cabrini had asked him about that once and he shrugged and said, “Well I still have all my teeth.”
That he did. Cabrini knew this for sure because he liked to help himself to Ace’s faggot once in a while. Ace never explicitly said he couldn’t, but he would have been an idiot to not know this was going on. Besides, it wasn’t like Cabrini was raping him. Left alone with a hot guy and an ignored cock, a faggot will always eventually go for the meat.
Cabrini heaved a sigh of relief as the faggot decided he was done waiting. He buried his head in Cabrini’s lap, and when he wasn’t pushed away, extracted Cabrini’s cock from his pants. He got his lips around his cut dick and his hands around his balls, making content noises as he sucked and licked.
Cabrini smoked, occasionally groaning or hissing, as the faggot coaxed to his cock to its full erect state with his talented tongue. Getting a blowjob at 2 pm on a Tuesday was wonderful. Cabrini loved the way the faggot ran the textured surface of his tongue over the slit of his glans as he rolled Cabrini’s testicles in his fingers. Cabrini fantasized about having a big workshop, leaving it after a long day of tinkering with his toys, and coming inside for a round of good sex with a boy like this. He dreamed of being rich and powerful enough to have a faggot or a sub of his own to follow him around everywhere.
Cabrini was deciding that Ace could take as long as he wanted in there when he heard a car. He watched it drive down the street toward them. Cabrini sat up and tensed. He put a protective hand on the faggot’s neck, not wanting him to stop even for this, as he craned his neck to see. The vehicle parked in the driveway of the house across the street from him. He saw one head. He held his breath. An old lady got out. Cabrini exhaled in relief and watched her haul a grocery bag stuffed with yarn up to the house. He sent an update via text message to Ace’s phone.
Ace replied: “Cool. Almost done here.”
“We’re sitting ducks. We need to move.” Cabrini wrote back. He wasn’t expecting a response and he didn’t get one. Ace would take all the time he needed to complete the deal. If it was going to go sour, it would have happened already. Cabrini’s text was a bluff. If he would have said: “Take your time”, then Ace would have known he was playing with his faggot. Cabrini didn’t want Ace wrapping up business with his thoughts of his second-hand-man playing with his pet out in the car, and in theory, not doing his job, although he was.
“That’s a good boy,” Cabrini moaned under his breath. “Suck it you faggot. Good boy. Nhhg …” Cabrini held out for as long as he could, but that boy had talent and the orgasm peaked hard and sudden. He came in a rush, and bucked up into the faggot’s mouth to empty his seed down his throat. The young man eagerly lapped it up; not a drop hit Cabrini’s pants or the seat cushions. He massaged Cabrini’s balls until they hitched again and the rest poured out. “Fuck you are good at that,” he crooned.
He watched through heavy lidded eyes as the faggot cleaned him up and tucked him back into his pants. The young man then rested his head on top of Cabrini’s crotch and began to fall asleep. Cabrini gave him a few pats on the head and chewed on the cigarillo butt.
Not two minutes later, Ace came out, swaggering. The car sank down a little as he got in.
“Success?” Cabrini grunted.
“Damn straight man! Come on, let’s go to Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles. I’m goddamn hungry and we gotta lotta planning to do. I got so many corners now, I don’t have enough people to staff em! We gotta hire, Cab, you think I should run an ad on Craigslist?” He threw his head back and laughed.
Cabrini chuckled and shook his head. “Business will be good?”
“Business will be ah-fucking-amazing soon enough. You will be able to buy that drone you keep harpin about.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Aww, did Georgy fall asleep on you?”
“Yeah he’s out cold. Guess he got bored.”
Ace turned the car on and set it going down the street. “Yeah he never did have a lot of patience. He better get his rest though, he’s gonna be busy tonight. Fucker can sleep under the table at Roscoe’s for all I care as long as he can stay up all night pleasing me.”
Cabrini glanced down at the faggot. He felt a moment of panic when he still saw a fleck of his cum on the boy’s lips. He brushed it away when Ace’s eyes were on the road. Food would be good. It would surely get the taste of cock off his breath. Ace put the cigarillo stub away in a small metal case he carried on his keychain. Life was good.
________________
Text is fictional.
Getting dressed for Thanksgiving Dinner is taking forever. Your family is probably wondering what is taking so long. You were just gonna throw on any comfy shirt and some nice jeans, but then your sister brought over a friend from college… a male friend. A hot Australian male friend, and not only that, but a hot bisexual Australian male friend. So of course, he out-dressed you just by showing up looking handsome and striking. All six feet of him in pressed slacks and cashmere. You never felt so juvenile in your life; first impression ruined in an instant.
So hence, why you were in your bedroom making these important decisions. You finally picked a pair of pants, and had moved onto the underwear. This was your best jockstrap, and the most expensive. It lifts your ass and turns your sloping cheeks into round globes. It makes you feel instantly sexy, much like you imagine a pair of heels does for a woman. You examine yourself in the mirror and cannot find a bad angle. God, it makes your cock look twice as big! You tuck in a ball that’s escaping and nod. Good, this will work under your best slacks.
However, you cannot help but puff your cheeks and sigh. This will only work if he actually gets your pants off. If he doesn’t, he’ll never see it your package on display like this. That’s going to be the challenge. You have a loose plan – get him a little tipsy, be friendly, and try your best not to make metaphors about “stuffing his turkey”. You cringe. That won’t work. You want him to fuck you anyway. You want that hot Australian guy to pin you to the bed and boss you around with that incredible accent.
Shit! Look you down. You can’t get an erection this early. You dig out your plastic chastity device and slip it on, securing it with a plastic tie. You can always slip into the bathroom to take it off before anything sexy happens.
You pull on the pants and pick out a shirt. Much better. You look good. Your ass looks great. You come downstairs to greet a flurry of relatives. In the mess of everything, you don’t get to talk to the Australian guy until later. You’ve missed the dark looks he’s been giving you all night. He knows there’s something about you he likes, he just can’t figure out what it is. Your confidence, your assertiveness. Your ass in those slacks. He’s never been so bothered by an American boy before, and he doesn’t know why it’s happening.
You are relieved that you chose to put on that chastity cage because you’re now suddenly horny for no reason. Every time you look at his chiseled face and frame in that sweater you just want to pounce on him. Not being able to get a hard-on is making you even hornier, and as the dinner marches on, you feel sluttier and sluttier. You know after everyone leaves that you’re going to be spending the evening with your dildo.
Except that never happens…cause when everyone is busy with coffee and pie, you excuse yourself to use the bathroom. The Australian says to the table he’s going to go too, just to know where it is, and no one is any wiser to his plan. He catches you in the bathroom and the tensions explode. There isn’t any time to unlock the chastity device, but it doesn’t matter. Once he finds it in your jockstrap, his hormones pulse at full blast. He pins you down with your hands behind your back, and teases your straining dripping cock with his fingers. He is fascinated and uncontrollably aroused by the sight of you. You were never allowed to remove your device, neither the first or the second time he fucked you against that counter. …
Nor the third, fourth, or fifth time he had you overnight. You two barely got any sleep, and he left you barely able to walk by the time he left with your sister, back to their college. What was most frustrating at all was that you were only allowed to cum hands free, and it was somehow the most infuriating and satisfying sex you’d ever had in your life. When your hole recovers, you plan to use it as a masturbation fantasy for weeks.
You remember the instructions he gave you – to keep your cock locked, and to send him pictures. Updates. You were going to obey. It was too hot not to. They were coming back for Christmas, and you wanted to show that hot Australian guy what a good American boy you could be. You knew you were probably supposed to feel a little shame about being such a whore for a guy you barely met, but when such a tempting cock is attached to such a fine specimen, your legs just fall open. As long as he kept bossing you around, they would stay open long past New Years.
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Text is fictional.
Harris Phelps unlocked and opened the front door. He initially would have been suspicious about a knock on the door at 8 pm, but he was almost sure he knew who was on the other side.
“Hello Daniel.”
“Hi,” he said sheepishly, clutching his backpack against his slim, pigeon chested form like a shield.
“Things bad tonight?”
He nodded, looking at his feet. “Lotta screaming. He punched me pretty hard in the shoulder, I can feel the bruise forming already. I am so behind on my homework, I don’t know if I can catch up during the Thanksgiving break. I really want to graduate this year. So I was um…hoping…for tonight…”
“I understand. Come in.”
“It’s ok?”
“Yes, it’s always ok.” Harris stepped back and gestured into their two-story home.
Daniel sighed in relief. “Thank you Mr. Phelps. Is Shane ho-”
“Danny?”
He looked up the stairs for the source of the voice. Harris’s son rushed down the steps at the sight of him, his face furrowed in concern.
“Aww Danny. Is everything alright?”
He shook his head and sniffled. “No, it’s not. We’re short again this month. He said it’s my fault we can’t have Thanksgiving.” He began to weep and Shane swept him into a hug. “Shh shh it’s not your fault.”
Debra Phelps came out of the living room to see what was going on. “Oh it’s Danny again. The poor dear.” She put her hand over her mouth, and looked at her husband with a questioning eyebrow. Harris nodded. She tsked and shook her head, standing back to let Shane comfort his boyfriend.
Harris shifted on his feet, feeling awkward, watching his teenage son embrace and lovingly pet another teenage boy. He was trying to be accepting but it was so foreign to him. He coughed. “Um, did you get dinner Danny?”
He shook his head, still buried in Shane’s neck.
“I’ll fix you a plate.” Before Danny could answer, he was gone.
Debra rolled her eyes. “There he goes. Are you two going to go upstairs for a bit after this, or do you want the living room to yourselves?”
Shane gave his mother a look of gratitude. “We’re gonna go upstairs I think. Danny’s worn out. I think he needs a meal and some rest.” He was rocking Danny side to side as he said this.
“Make sure you check him for bruises. Take pictures of whatever you find. This is the last straw. After the holiday weekend, we’re going down to the police and settling this.”
Danny lifted his head. “Mrs. Phelps, I really appreciate all your family does for me, but I’m going to be 18 in April. I just want to get over this and move on.”
She pursed her lips. “You can’t let him get away with hurting you.”
Shane interrupted. “Let’s talk about this later alright?”
Debra pressed her lips together but didn’t reply. Harris came back into the room with a plate and a cup of iced tea.
“Thanks so much, Daddy. We’re gonna go upstairs for a bit.”
“Alright now. The guest room should be prepared.” He passed the plate and glass to Shane, and clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Get some rest.”
Danny nodded.
Shane carried the items upstairs with Danny at his heals.
Mrs. Phelps had a lot to say to Harris after they went to bed.
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Upstairs, Shane and Danny camped out in Shane’s room for a bit. Shane checked him over, took a picture or two. He was alarmed to find Danny shaking and his skin cold.
“Why didn’t you wear your coat over here silly?”
“It doesn’t fit well anymore,” he explained, smoothing his shirt down. “God, I can’t believe how much homework I have to do. I just wanted to do my homework, how hard could that be?”
“Shhh…. you don’t have to fuss over that now. We don’t have school until Monday.”
“I’m so behind!” Danny cried, his hands trembling as he went for his backpack. “I just wanted to do my homework and graduate and and -” he was beginning to hyperventilate.
Shane took the backpack out of his hands. “Danny – Daniel! Stop. Stop. Look at me.”
Danny was so surprised to hear an adult voice come out of Shane that he forgot to hyperventilate. It was so reassuring to hear him be firm with him, to be in control of things. Shane was his rock.
“ Look at me. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. It’s ok. Your homework is going to get done. I’ll help you. The library is open on Saturday.”
Danny nodded. Shane noted the bags under his eyes, the sallow hue to his skin. He gave Danny the cup of iced tea to sip, and coaxed him into eating some porkchops by hand-feeding him with the fork. It wasn’t long before his appetite reared up, and he devoured everything on the plate, much to Shane’s satisfaction. It was easy to coax him into the guest bed for a long night’s rest.
They let Danny sleep in the next morning. Shane made pancakes and bacon for everyone. It was a simple morning, but for Danny the domestic stability was a soothing balm to his jittery soul. He ate as much bacon as he wanted and felt like a prince. He joined Shane outside to rake leaves, and they ended up playing in the piles. Shane was delighted to hear him laughing. After, when they tumbled into the house with red cheeks, they were given tea and ended up helping Debra peel apples for pies and potatoes for the mashed spuds for Thanksgiving dinner. Harris prepped and stuffed the bird.
As the late morning faded into early afternoon, Danny began to feel increasingly out of place. An aunt was on her way for the feast. The grandparents were coming in an hour. Shane was looking devastatingly handsome and grown up in fitted tan corduroy slacks and an oatmeal and navy sweater. Danny felt ugly next to him in ripped jeans and an old T-shirt. When the family was distracted by a situation involving a shortage of water glasses, Danny slipped upstairs.
He returned a moment later with his old backpack off one shoulder. He stood in the entryway to the kitchen, shuffling his foot against the carpet.
“Um,” he said.
Shane straightened and looked up at his boyfriend. “Danny?”
“I um – it’s getting late. I don’t want to be in your way when your family comes. I bother you guys too much and overstay my welcome as is, so I’m gonna go. Thank you for everything. Again,”
Before anyone could answer, he made his way to the door.
“Danny!” Shane called after him.
“Daniel wait.” This time it was Harris.
The young man froze in the hallway. “What?” he asked, suspicious.
Harris caught up to him, Debra behind him.
“It’s ok if you stay,” said Debra.
“But I’m not part of your family…it’s a family holiday,” he said weakly, his arms tightening around his backpack.
Debra took his arm and walked him to the dining room. “Come here a second. "Look at the table. There’s ten chairs. It’s me, Harris, and our son. Then it’s Harris’s parents, my parents – that’s 7. Aunt Megan, and cousin Reyna is 9. The other one is for you. We set a place for you.”
Danny just stared at the chairs. He worked his jaw a few times, then looked at Shane for support. Shane was giving him a warm smile, obviously in on it.
“I – I-.. I-”
“Dammit Danny, you helped make the pie you at least gotta eat that,” Shane said in an exasperated tone. His quip broke the tension and they all shared a laugh. Danny brushed tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Well, there’s a little more than eating pie.” Harris put a large hand on his wife’s shoulder. We were going to ask you later, but I think it’s appropriate now.“ He glanced at Debra. Debra nodded and put her slimmer hand over her husband’s. Confusion formed on Shane’s face. He wasn’t in on this.
Harris cleared his throat. "We would like to invite you to stay with us for the rest of the school year. We’re not going to be using our guest room for the time being, as Patricia is off studying abroad for the year, and it’s obvious you need some stability in your life. Plus, Shane likes you, and I think it’d be good for you.”
“Oh Daddy do you mean it?” Shane gasped. “You really mean it? Mom? Is he telling the truth, Danny can stay with us?”
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “It’s the best thing. I can’t sleep knowing that his daddy is going to put Daniel in the hospital one of these days. We’ll set the deadline at May, and we’ll go from there. Daniel? How do you feel about this?”
Danny’s face was blank. He walked over to the table in a daze and ran his fingers over the rim of the plate with his name card on it. His lower lip began to tremble and he collapsed into a squat and buried his face into his backpack. His entire body shuddered, wracked with sobs. “Yes,” he said, the words thickly muffled.
Shane dropped to his kneels and put a supporting arm over him.
“Yes, a million times yes!”
Debra sniffled and even Harris had a hard time swallowing his emotions.
Shane got Danny to stand up again by offering more hugs.
“Seriously, thank you guys,” he blurted out, hiccuping. “You have been so amazing. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you all.”
Debra found herself opening her arms for a hug too and Danny was eager for the love.
“You just thank us by getting good grades.”
“And uh,” Harris coughed and gestured to Shane. “You two keep it appropriate ok? I know you’re um, dating, but we do mean it when we say separate rooms.”
“Dad!” Shane hissed, turning bright red. Danny groaned and wiped his face on his shirt.
“We’ll be good Mr. Phelps. I swear. Shane is so important to me, I wouldn’t risk it. I just want to graduate, and try to figure out what I’m doing after high school.”
He clapped Danny on the back. “Good. That’s what I want to hear. Now put your backpack away, I need your help in the kitchen with-… Megan, how long have you been standing there?”
“…Am in the middle of something?” she asked, her daughter peering around her legs.
“No,” Debra insisted, putting on a winning smile. “Not at all. We were just having a family moment. Shane, go find something for Danny to wear. Meet us in the kitchen.”
He nodded and stole a sniffling Danny away.
“Who is that?” the stray aunt asked.
“One of Danny’s friends. He’s going to be staying with us for the time being. Problems at home.”
“Oh, is he? Such a sad-faced boy. Poor lost lamb.”
Debra nodded sympathetically and went to get her a glass of wine and some juice for Reyna.
Upstairs, Danny was trying on one of Shane’s button up shirts. Shane had taken a few minutes to allow Danny to wash his face and then he himself combed Danny’s hair back into a ponytail. Danny eyed his clean-cut self in the mirror as he got the top button done on the shirt. He turned around and looked for Shane’s approval. Shane beamed.
“You look handsome. Now let’s find you a belt so my pants stay up on you…”
“Wait, Shane…seriously. I really need to thank you first. Your family is awesome. I just want to say that I really appreciate this. I love them and you so much.”
“You love me?” Shane repeated, flushing prettily.
“Yes. I really do. You’ve shown me such kindness, how could I not?”
Shane cupped Danny’s freckled cheek. They leaned in toward each-other and shared a sweet, light kiss. Danny swallowed a lump in his throat. He hadn’t felt anything so wonderful in a very long time.
“Happy Thanksgiving Danny.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too Shane. You know, for the first time since my mother died, I actually feel like I have something to be thankful for this year.”
Shane couldn’t hold it in anymore and finally had to wipe away tears too. Danny kissed them all away.
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Text is fictional. Source is OP. Happy Thanksgiving~
Getting your first kiss at the Spring Church Picnic will always be memorable… you sure hope nobody comes to check on why it’s taking you two so long to put away the sports equipment. You wonder how on Earth he can be the lacrosse team captain, a Prom King nominee, a top art student, and be such an excellent kisser on top of this. His lips are softer and yet firmer than you ever imagined them to be. He smells like grass and sweat mixed with his own, making your cock stir and your pulse quicken. Your cheeks feel warm, and you get goosebumps as slides his palms over your shoulders. You never want to stop pressing your lips to his, and with each kiss you get hungrier…and hungrier.
When he pulls away, he’s panting too, staring at you with glazed eyes. You can see the panic under them.
“…Sorry, was that…I mean… I don’t know where that came from,” he offers, wiping his lower lip.
“No no, it was nice,” you stammer, messing with your shirt hem. “You uh…want to do it again?”
He smiles a sweet, mischievous smile and looks around. “Yeah I do.”
“How about now?”
“…Now is good.”
And he leans in again.
You don’t even dare ask what he’s going to do about his girlfriend, but you have a feeling he doesn’t kiss her like that.
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Text is fictional.