Tag: gay captions

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“What is your houseboy doing?” Reginald asks, twisting in his patio chair to get a look at the source of the sound of someone making loud raspberries.
I crane my neck to find Oren through the guests mingling in my spacious backyard. “…I have no idea. Whatever it is, it’s not what he’s supposed to be doing. He knows better, what on Earth is he up to?”
Will, who is standing off to the side behind Reginald starts snickering, then as he watches Oren dissolves into laughter.
“What is so funny Will?” Reginald insists. “You know something don’t you? …You do! What is it?”
“Will, what did you do my boy?” I rise from my chair.

It takes Will a few moments to compose himself, because every time he looks at me he loses it again. I’m about to throw a shoe at him when he finally spits it out. “I gave him one of the pot brownies! The strong ones, that Linda made for your brother.”

Color rises in my face. “What? What? You DRUGGED him?” Reginald rushes to his feet to keep me from punching Will. “YOU DRUGGED Oren? You asshole. Those weren’t your brownies, those were for Dean! And you gave him drugs for the first time without any supervision, and you violated the rule of not feeding him! I told you he’s hypoglycemic – sweets have to be – ..why am I talking to you about this? You have 30 seconds to leave my property of you will be escorted off.”

I turn my back to him and rush over to Oren. It’s quite obvious he’s gotten something in his system – the dopey look on his face, the vague sheen to his eyes. “Hey Sir.” He drawls. “Look how green this is…it’s like really green. And it vibrates when I do this.” He blows a raspberry on it again. “Pretty cool,” he giggles.

A couple guests stare. I gently work the balloon from his fingers and sigh. “Oren, did you eat a brownie?”
He looks confused, and shuffles his feet. “Will said you wanted me to eat it, Sir. Said you said to keep my blood sugar up.”
“Will is a lying bastard, and those brownies had pot in them.”
“Ohh…that explains why I feel weird.” He pokes the balloon in my hands and starts giggling.
“Are you going to faint?”
Oren doesn’t answer, he just keeps petting the balloon.
Reginald chimes in. “He’s bloody useless.”
“Great,” I sigh. “My houseboy is high, and there is no one to watch my guests.”
Reginald puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of them, make sure everyone is watered and the trash is cleared. You take care of Oren.”
I give him a grateful look. “Many thanks Reginald. Is Will gone?”
He glances around. “Yes. That bastard. I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have invited him.”
“You can’t always know how people will act, Reg, don’t worry. I’m just…concerned, mostly. Alright, Oren, come with me.”
“But,….it’s so pretty out here.”

I take a deep breath and count to 3. Apparently being high has made him completely disregard all his training. I’m both furious at being disrespected and irritated because it’s not entirely his fault. “Ok, why don’t I take you around to the garden and have you rest in the hammock?”
“Ooo….hammock.”
He’s allowed to nap there when he’s good, but the rules are moot now – I just need him to cooperate. I get him some water, and to my relief, he allows me to escort him away from the party and to somewhere more quiet.

When I come back, I’m deeply relieved to see Reginald making nice with everyone and the catering tables look flawless. I host questions from concerned guests for several minutes before I have another moment alone with Reginald.

“Is he alright?” my best friend inquires.
“Yes, just napping, thankfully. Thank you so much for covering, Reg, I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem at all. Least I can do.”
He hands me a glass of lemonade and I sip it. “…It’s kind of funny though isn’t it?” I chuckle.
“Oh my god, when he was blowing raspberries on the balloon I was trying so hard not to lose it,” Reginald admits.
I can’t help but smile about this silliness now that the anger has passed. “You missed that when I got him into the hammock, I wouldn’t give him the balloon back at first and he said to me – ‘Dude, why you hating on my balloon?’ in this super indignant voice.”
Reginald covers his face with one hand and cracks up. “Oh god, I’m never going to look at Oren straight-faced again!”
“YOU?” I gasp. His laughter is contagious and I’m catching up. “Tomorrow I have to explained to a very disciplined and soon to be very horrified houseboy that he nearly left me for a balloon – and he called his Sir ‘dude’.”

We both dissolve into hysterics and have to sit down in the patio chairs again to recover.

When Oren emerged from the gardens later after the party ended, Reginald and I sat with him on the grass and fed him munchies off paper plates. In the end, I wasn’t able to bring myself to punish Oren. We figured that Oren’s eventual embarrassment toward his behavior was punishment enough – and it was. I still tease him about calling me ‘dude’ though, which makes him squirm in the most adorable way.

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Text is fictional. Photographs by Richard Rothstein. More from the set here.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

A typical Friday night of foosball and football on the TV becomes that special night when you finally get that boy. When a playful kiss ends up more than just an impulse, and suddenly you’re allowed to undress him and his penis is jutting out in front of his body expecting your attention. Something about seeing his cock and balls hanging and protruding on display turns any doubts about this off, and your brain puts all other functions on ‘hibernate’ so it can devote all its energy to sex.

You get your arms around him, cradling his torso, one hand sliding down to his thigh. You want his cock, and he wants you to have it. He’s acting like a woman, parting his legs, trying to encourage you to give attention to his pussy. It turns you on in dizzying, incredible ways to know that a man is expecting you to take him, that he’s silently accepted you as the dominant one.

The high lasts for nearly an hour, a two man orgy of touching, caressing, kissing, and sucking. Not an inch left unexplored, no erogenous zone neglected. The sex lasts maybe ten minutes but you know the penetration is just the finale. By the time you reach the breeding, the pulling his hips flush with yours so you can get deeper in him part, you are just an animal recreating what your ancestors have been doing for millennia.

He’s very hot, and very malleable in your hands. His penis feels like a silk flower in your fingers, his balls soft permissions heavy on the branch. Wetness is everywhere.

The next morning you both convince yourselves it was a dream and never reconnect on Fridays again. You don’t see each other for nearly 15 years, until one day he finds you online, and messages you out of the blue: “Do you still wonder if it was real or not?”
Your heart leaps at his message and you reply: “Every day.”
“Do you ever wish it were real?”
“Every day.”
“555-921-8266.”

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Text is fictional. Need the source please.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Being a bartender is a stressful job in a loud environment, but it does have some unexpected upside. This guy came in with two other friends, and they were obviously tourists judging by the maps and cameras they had slung over their shoulders. They ordered their drinks, and wasted no time gossiping in Dutch about “fat Americans” and “greasy food” and our ‘horrible biking infrastructure". One of the bitchier girls noticed that her other male friend wasn’t really participating – he was watching me tend bar. I of course, pretended not to notice even though he was pretty cute, but it was hard to ignore when – to my shock – he began to talk wistfully about how he wanted to fuck me.

I played dumb but nearly dropped the glass I was holding. He carried on about how I’m probably not even gay, just another dumb straight American frat bro who doesn’t know a thing about wine or good sex. He said there’s no way, even if I were gay, that I’d ever fuck a Dutch guy …but I had a great ass and strong hands, and it was a shame anyway. His friend tried to make him feel better, but their conversation soon turned into playful but vulgar banter. They were guessing my cock size, if I were cut or not, how big my balls were, if I were a top or bottom – things like that, until they were all tipsy and laughing.

I waited patiently, my cheeks growing redder by the minute, until they finally asked for their tab. To my delight, my favorite young man with the shorn hair paid. When I gave him back his card and receipt, I waited until he reached for it, then trapped his hand by covering it with my own. In fluent Dutch, I replied, “For your record, I’m reversible, I’m just over 4 inches soft and about 6 and a half inches hard; my balls are pretty decent sized, and I indeed have a great ass. No, I don’t really like spanking, but I do like sex frequent and often. If you want to fuck me, my number is on the back.” Then I winked and walked off to go wash glasses, leaving them stunned and agape. The young man turned bright red.

They gathered their property and made a hasty exit. My co-worker was laughing so hard she had to sit down once I had explained what had just happened.

I honestly didn’t expect the little darling to call me, and he didn’t – but he showed up at my bar the next night alone. Diederik told me that he couldn’t figure out how to make a phone call in America, with a sheepish grin plastered on his face. He apologized for his behavior the other night, and I supplied him with free drinks. Diederik eventually admitted he had broken up with his long-term boyfriend before the trip and was lonely. His boyfriend had been cheating on him and lying to him, and Diederik wanted to clear his head by coming to a new place. It had worked, and by god, was he horny.

He stuck around. When my shift ended, I asked, “Still want to fuck me?” We made a hasty retreat back to my place, and we barely made it inside. We were kissing and groping in the elevator. Once in my apartment, we made a bee line to the bed. I threw my belongings onto the comforter and our clothes were cast to the floor. He pushed me onto my back and sought my mouth, pressing his weight over me.

Diederik was chatty, murmuring how gorgeous I was, how nice I smelled, how my cock was perfect, how I was making him crazy with arousal. I told him where the lube and condoms were and that’s all the instruction he needed. Poor Diederik, he was so backed up. He fucked me so hard that I began to fear the bed was going to break, but then once the fever was out of his system he slowed to a steady rhythm. I would be plenty sore tomorrow, but now? I was loving every second of him thrusting in and out of my body.

Maybe there’s a Dutch secret to fucking I hadn’t been taught, but his technique! Oh god, his technique! I’d had my prostate nudged before, but Diederik’s cock pushed this button deep in me that sent pre-cum gushing from my body. The way he used his hips, his back, his tongue – I wrapped my legs around him, never wanting him to stop using me as his fucktoy. 

I squeezed my eyes shut as I came, digging fingers into his back while curling my toes. The orgasm Diederik blessed me with was the first one that made me momentarily lose consciousness. I didn’t even realize it until I felt his hand patting my cheek and I heard someone talking to me in concerned Dutch.

“Hey…Hey are you alright?”
“Wha?” My head felt like it was full of oatmeal. The sexual tension had dissipated, but I felt a void. “What happened? I came, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Are you still in me?” I asked.
“No.”
“Mmm put it back in me.”
He chuckled, “It’s too sensitive and too soft…and I already took off the condom. But as soon as I’m horny again, I will.” He bent over me again, setting his damp cock next to mine, and then he laid on top of me and nuzzled me under my chin. “I feel so cleansed.”
“Mmm if only you know how I feel,” I laughed. “I just got the best fucking of my life from some Dutch guy who talked shit about me in my bar.”
“Hey! Most Americans can’t speak Dutch, alright? How do you know Dutch anyway?”
I smirked. “My mother. That’ll teach you not to assume.”
“It also teaches me that I want to fuck more Americans.”
“…Can’t you just fuck me a lot instead?”

Diederik pretended to consider this in depth. “Hmmm…I guess so.”
I swatted him on the shoulder and chuckled. “You are gonna spend the rest of your vacation in my bed if you aren’t careful.”
Diederik kissed my jawline. “Mmm. I’d like that.”

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Text is fictional. Could not locate a source.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Me neither.” He looks up at me, hands on the elastic of my underwear. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at the White Party? Get to know guys, try new things?”
I swallow and nod. “I think it’s a good start, you know, for us people with less experience.”
He smiles and pulls down my underwear. I vocalize a sharp take of breath at the thrill of my cock being exposed like this. I grip the desk, watching him look at me. He is at eye level of my cock. He takes a long time. “Wow I’ve never seen another man like this, up close.”
“Is it ugly…?” I dare to ask.
“No I think, it’s quite beautiful. You have such wonderful length, I love the way it widens just before the head. Mm you’re cut too, that’s good.” He’s so close to my glans now I can feel his breath on my sensitive skin. I’m so nervous I can barely do anything besides grip the table as the blood pours into my cock like a broken water line.

He looks up at me, as if giving me one more chance to change my mind, but when I do nothing except stare, he gives me a smile and puts his mouth around my cock. My jaw drops and wordless moans get stuck in my throat. It is a very strange sensation. His mouth is wet, there are different textures – his tongue, his cheeks, his palette, the hard edges of his teeth. I’m trying to comprehend that he has put my sex organ in my mouth and how it can feel this wonderful. I curl my toes as he applies gentle suction and his tongue begins to lap at the slit of my cock. I got an erection so quickly it has left me so dizzy I nearly faint. I’m suddenly 13 again and helpless to testosterone.

I watch, mesmerized, as he closes his eyes and enjoys my penis. He lets his own lids droop and he bobs his hand while tasting me. After a moment, he puts a hand at the base of my cock to stabilize it; the other hand gently tugs on my sac. My eyes roll back in my head. Normally the sucking and light gagging sounds would have disgusted me, but I find them terribly erotic now. I have no idea if he’s awful at this or blessed at oral skill, but it’s the best thing anyone had done to me in my life.

Here I am at 28, in Palm Springs, receiving my first belated blowjob from a strange but pretty young man from Des Moines. Life as a paralegel back in Austin seems a mere hallucination now. I never want it to stop but the orgasm builds too fast. I yelp out a warning but it was too late – I came in his mouth. He pull back, my seed spilling over his tongue and chin, and I shoot the rest on his cheek. He squints his eyes closed as my fluids splashed on him. 

I began apologizing immediately, but he licks at me and with a strong hand, milks the rest of the cum out of my shaft. I gasp and twitch as his clever hands wring me dry. The remaining white stuff dribbles to the floor. He continues to play with me until it’s too sensitive and I plead with him to stop. It’s only then he releases me and plants little kisses on my thigh.

“I’m so sorry, I should have warned you I was going to cum.”
“No, it’s alright,” he smiles, wiping cum off his cheek with the back of his hand, “I made you lose control. I’m very flattered. I could feel the vein under your cock just pounding away, I knew you weren’t going to last very long.”
“Oh…” I say, my voice falling, “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”
“What?” he scoffs. “No you didn’t disappoint me. I enjoyed blowing you very much. I like sucking more than I thought I would actually. I could have kept your cock in my mouth all day, your scent was giving me quite a buzz.”

As I soften, the shame starts to encroach on my emotions. I’m here in a hotel room with my underwear down and my seed on a stranger’s face. Oh god.
“I still feel bad,” I insist, trying to tug up my underwear with one hand.
He puts his hand on mine. “Are you ashamed?”
“A little,” I admit blushing.
He smiles again, knowingly. “You’re so adorable, I love shy boys with big dicks. Let’s go take a shower. You can pet me.”
Despite my reservations, I find his sweet words magnetic. “I can?” I ask. “It’s…ok if I touch you?”
“Honey, I’d be offended if you didn’t. This is Palm Springs. You see a dick you like, you go after it. You approached me, but I blew you first…so yeah, I want you to reciprocate. I’m dying of curiosity how you’re gonna make me cum.”
“You think I can make a man cum on my first try?” I pull at the short hairs of my beard.
“I did the first time I gave a blowjob, didn’t I?” says the man from Des Moines, all coy, now standing in front of me and playing with his erection.

I must be blushing because he’s chuckling. I’m at a loss for words.
He lightly takes hold of my wrist. “Come on, come play with me in the shower. Wash my dick clean, get all that desert sand out from every crevice, tease me with your hands, make me all slick and wet…”
I groan. My lust for men is going to be my downfall. When he pulls me toward the bathroom, I fall behind him like an obedient lamb.

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Text is fictional. I think this is Gabriel Clark and Max Carter from Cockyboys.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Ok you two, throw a couple poses then we’ll move on to the next set of this swimwear shoot….Rodriguez? …Rod?”
Wow, it really is a chastity cage! I’ve never seen one up close before. Gosh, it’s cute. Sooo jealous – he was able to save up enough money to get one of the nice ones and he has a keyholder! Two things I don’t. I bet he doesn’t have student loan payments either…Jeez, I really want one of these.
“ROD!”
“Huh? What?? Oh.” He blushes. “Sorry.”
Mike ruffles his hair and chuckles, “You can ask me questions about it later ok?”
“Ok, sorry Mike.”
“No problem, cutie. Now smile or the photographer is going to murder us.”

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Text is fictional. The men in the photos are Aden and Jordan Jaric of Falcon Studios. What’s really neat is that they’re a married gay couple. You read that right – a gay married couple who are also professional porn stars. More photos here. Here is Aden’s profile on Falcon’s website.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

badgroveboy:

woodshedofwonder:

otkdude:

Out in the woodshed, waiting for dad to escort his son in for a “chat.”

My Dream Shed!

Donahue Senior led his boy to the woodshed with a firm grip on the back of the boy’s neck. Clif was trembling a little, sniffling, nervous. He’d been begging his dad to lengthen his curfew to midnight over the summer now that he was out of high school, and his dad had agreed if he got a summer job. Clif had done so, and his dad was pleased, but now he’d erred. Clif had been invited out to a lake party with some friends, drank a little too much beer despite being under 21, and lost track of the time. He came home at 1:15 in the morning to find Donahue Senior reading the paper in the living room.

Clif began to apologize profusely, but his father said “son.” and that was all he needed to say. Clif shut his mouth and lowered his head. He let Donahue Senior lead him outside. The day his son was too old for spankings was the day he handed Clif off to his future husband who would take his place. He’d known Clif had been gay since he was 5, but as his father, he was determined to instill some old-fashioned values on him.

They got to the shed and the father turned on the light. He took the stool and the belt out to the side of shed, next to the wood pile. Clif sniffled miserably. Disappointing his father had been worse than the guilt. He watched his father lay the strap across it. When Clif began to undo his pants, he was confused when Donahue Senior told him to stop. He handed Clif a bottle of leather oil and a cloth.

“You made a mistake tonight, son. You not only broke the law drinking under the legal age and risked driving intoxicated, you flagrantly flaunted curfew and lost track of the time. You’re almost a man, Clif. You’re learning about how much you can get away with in life, but you need some reminders about limits. Now, this strap is stiff because I haven’t had to use it on you in a long time, and I’m proud of that. I want you to sit there and oil that strap and the bench and think about what you did and how you can be more careful next time. I’ll be out to check on you in a bit. If you do a good job, I will take some marks off your punishment. You’re gonna get a couple, but I want the alcohol to wear off first.”
Clif hiccuped. “Thank you, thank you very much Sir.” At least he’d be able to sit down somewhat tomorrow.

“You’re a good son, Clif. I got into a fair amount of trouble when I was your age myself. I have high hopes for you as a man. Don’t disappointment me again.”
Clif hung his head. “Yessir.”
“Good boy. I’ll be back.”

He left the boy there to contemplate his wrongdoings while trying to stay awake. Thirty minutes later, he came back to find Clif’s hands stained with oil but the strap and bench gleamed with his efforts. Donahue Senior tested the leather and admired how it creaked. “Damn impressive job, boy.”
Clif managed a little smile. “Thank you Sir.”
“Alright, I was gonna give you 30, butt I’m gonna cut it down to 10. Can you manage that without throwing up all that booze?”
Clif winced. “Yes, and thank you Sir, but I have to piss.”
Lightweight. “Take off your pants, then go do it in the corner by the tree there.”

He watched his son remove his pants, then shuffle over to the corner, and remove himself from his underwear. Donahue Senior then he heard the stream hit the ground. He had to chuckle. Clif must have drank a lot, it went on forever.

Eventually, Clif shook the last drops off and obediently got into position over the bench. Donahue Senior walked over behind him, tugged down Clif’s underwear, and admired the sight of that supple ass. Shame fucking your son was illegal in most states. Clif was growing a pretty impressive set of balls that would be fun to play with. He’d definitely make a man very happy one day. Donahue Senior shoved a hankie into Clif’s mouth, braced himself, and strapped him. It was out of love, more than anything, because he really did want what was best for him. He believed that men learned best that way, through physical correction. It a personal secret that it also gave him a throbbing erection. God, he loved that sound of leather striking flesh.

By the end, the tears had started and the red rectangles were appearing on Clif’s ass. Donahue Senior took a tube out of his pocket and massaged some salve into the burn. He hiked up his underwear and gave his son his pants back with the salve in the pocket, and once Clif was dressed, pulled him into a reassuring hug. He wiped Clif’s eyes and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “You did good. I’m proud of you, and I forgive you.”
“T-t-thank you Sir,” he sniffled, “I’m still really sorry, too.” He paused, “The beer wasn’t even that good.”
His father coughed out a laugh. “If you’re curious about beer, just ask. If you’re gonna drink it, might as well drink the good stuff. It’s best in moderation anyway.”
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Thank you Dad. You’re the best.”
His father beamed at him, his chest filling with pride. “Thank you son. Now off to bed with you, it’s late.”

Donahue Senior nodded and watched Donahue Junior delicately walk back to the house. Once the adrenaline wore off, he’d be mighty sore. Clif’s father returned everything to the shed, but he didn’t turn off the light right away. Instead, he sat down on the bench, took his impressive prick out of his jeans, and milked himself dry.

From his bedroom window, Clif stared at the light on in the shed and wondered what his father was doing in there. After past strappings, sometimes his father would linger in the shed, but Clif figured he was just rearranging things or dusting, but why now, so late at night? He adjusted his crotch from side to side. Getting spanked made him horny for no reason and his underwear felt cold and damp. He also felt disgusted at how much it turned him on to have his ass up to an older man like that…even if that man was his father.
He briefly wondered if his father ever wanted to fuck him. It felt like he did, but why hadn’t he? Clif shook his head, realizing what he was thinking was kind of gross. Still…. Clif remembered what his father said, about the beer – If he was curious, he should just ask. Well, he was curious about sex. His father could teach him about that right? The young man tossed his head to clear the fog. God, once he was in college that autumn, he was going to find himself a big, dominating man and get that urge taken care of. He was a virgin still, and his cherry was growing ripe.

Clif was nice and hard now, but his ass was starting to throb. He sighed, let the curtains fall back into place, and went to brush his teeth and take a quick shower before bed.

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Text is fictional. Source I think is here, a het spanking Tumblr. I do wanna say that I often feel kinda weird writing incest stories because incest normally implies a lot of psychological dysfunction and possible child abuse; however, this is erotic fantasy, so for the sake of fantasy, so I’m going to declare that the Donahue men are sane, consenting, and no one is getting any lifelong mental scars …and no one is getting pregnant.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Greg had been listening to his boyfriend’s heartbeat for the last forty minutes. It was so soothing to be so comfortable, so warm and snug on a chilly spring night. Yet, he couldn’t fall asleep. Normally he was out like a light – wasn’t there something he’d forgotten to do? It nagged at him. Jesse was asleep too half under him, and Greg had been listening to the soft sounds of him breathing the entire time. He liked having quiet moments like this to appreciate his lover and to just snuggle – his previous boyfriend didn’t like to snuggle – but Greg wanted to join Jesse in sleep now. What was the deal?

He ran through his night routine – turn off the light in Jesse’s beloved aquarium downstairs, lock the doors, turn off the porch lights, put the meat from the freezer on a plate to defrost in the fridge… he’d done all that. Go upstairs, check. Brush his teeth, check. Floss, check. Give his boyfriend his good night kiss, ch… wait a second. Greg furrowed his brow. No, he hadn’t. They’d been talking about Greg’s pregnant sister when they turned off the lights, and Jesse had dozed off. That’s what it was. Greg felt warm when he realized it. He couldn’t sleep without his goodnight kiss. Jesse meant that much to him.

Greg tilted his head up and pressed his lips to Jesse’s soft, open ones, their stubble brushing together. He couldn’t wait to tell Jesse in the morning… and that was his last thought before he fell off into deep sleep.

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Text is fictional. The actors are Tom Cullen and Chris New, and this gif is from the heartbreakingly beautiful gay film Weekend.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

(ed note – Lucien is one of my rare reoccurring characters. Prior stories about him can be found with the lucien stories tag.)

“Lucien?”
“Mmm.”
“When was your first time?”
“Having sex?”
“Mm no, with a man.”
Lucien rolled his head to the side and looked at me. “You think I just do this for money?”
“No. But, you seem so casual with so many men. Just men as far back as I can imagine. I was just wondering how it started.”
Lucien huffs air out his nose. “So many men indeed. My first customer was a guy moving from Virgina I think to -”
“No no,” I insist, giving him a little kick in the shin, “Your first gay experience. When you knew, you know, that you liked men.”
Lucien raises an eyebrow. “I don’t usually tell those kinds of stories to clients, stories about…” he trails off suddenly.

“You were going to say your real name weren’t you?” I ask.
“Yes,” he admits. “That boy…he is very different from Lucien. I’m not sure you’d like him.”
I furrow my brow. “But you share the same body. I like your body. I like being in your body…why wouldn’t I like him?”
“Because,” Lucien insists, “He was an angry person. A sad person. Someone who hated the world because of the life he’d been born into. When I …he was seven, his mother got him a big Costco size box of Lucky Charms for Christmas. Cause they could never afford name brand cereal right? And that meant he’d get breakfast for a few days. He ate some of it, then put it on the top shelf to save it for special occasions, like when there wasn’t food. A week later, he went to sneak some in the middle of the night and discovered a mouse had moved into it, as well as these moth things… he cried and cried. He learned that day that life wasn’t fair. I don’t think he ever recovered.”
“Lucien…that’s so sad.” I gave him a kiss. “I’m sorry.”

“See?” he insists. “This is why I don’t tell these stories. They’re not fun, or sexy, or happy.”
“So…the story of your gay encounter, it wasn’t any of those?” I dare to ask. I’m not sure now if I want to know, but Lucien has become a figurehead of fantasy in my daydreams when I’m off at university, and I feel that I must know his full story.

Lucien takes a deep breath and sighs patiently. “I thought…he thought, it wasn’t fair that God made him gay in a very rural, very conservative town in the Bible Belt. So, for a while, he was angry about that too. One summer, he got a little work detasseling corn and washing dishes for a big BBQ restaurant. Under the table. And it wasn’t fair – the other boys were spending their money on comics and sodas and cassette tapes, and those with older brothers got them to buy them cigarettes and dirty magazines; but I… – he had to save his money to buy a new pair of shoes for school, money for lunches, hair cuts. Really good duct tape to hold up the tarps that kept the rain out of the trailer. Nothing ever fun.”
I listened intently.
“There was a boy I worked with. We were both 14. He was a beautiful creature. Very serious face, a strong nose. Freckles. Bony shoulders. He was so beautiful, very distracting. A bunch of boys would go down to the quarry to go swimming after our shifts, but as more of us would wander off to go smoke or hang out with girls, it ended up just being me and him one day. And he suggested that we’d skinny dip because it was so hot. He was so stunning naked, he had the most perfect penis, even at his age. It was going to be just the right size when he was done growing, the right color, shape. I was so envious how he looked like a model, standing there in the dirt, naked with corn silk in his hair.” Lucien chuckled at the memory. “He saw me staring at him, so he came into the water and swam over to me. He asked if I ever kissed a boy before. I said no. And he kissed me. And we kissed a long time. He sat on this rock shelf submerged into the water and he let me touch him. He was so hot, so virile. His balls…Jesus, they were huge. I played with him until the water turned cloudly, then he did the same to me.”
Lucien doesn’t talk for a while. The moment is too tender to interrupt. I cuddle up against him and wait.
“As we were cycling back into town, the other me…he realized something. Life isn’t fair, but even if it isn’t fair, it can still feel really wonderful. And thus, life can be OK, as long it’s by our standards and not someone else’s standards. From then on, he thought being gay was the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“I’m glad you’re gay,” I offered.
Lucien reached over and tousled my hair. “You do love a good dick.”
I snorted and playfully shoved him. “Lucien, did something unfair happen to that boy?”
Lucien shrugs. “No.”
Relief floods through me.
“He moved away. Father lost his job or something. They moved back in with his mother’s family in Tennessee. I’m happy he got out of Cordova, went back to a bigger town, where people can appreciate a beautiful man like him. Last I heard, he joined the Marines. I bet he looks crazy gorgeous in that uniform.”

“You still think of him,” I hear myself say, in awe.
Lucien blinks at me. “I looked him up on the internet at the library some time ago. I just like knowing he’s happy, that his life is fair. Somehow, it makes me happy too. Like the universe has balanced itself out.” Lucien moves his hand over my belly and starts rubbing my half erection through my underwear. “Did that excite you? Are you ready to have sex now?”
“Fuck Lucien,” I gasp. “Even when you’re telling stories, you make me so horny It’s like the pure, unfiltered, raw kind of horny. It’s just not fair.”
He laughs for the first time today. “Not fair hm? But it feels good, right?”
“Yes, very good,” I breathe as he plays with me.
Lucien smiles mischievously at me. “Then by our standards, it can’t be all that bad.”

I can’t think of what to say to that, but Lucien is already reaching for the lube, preparing for the next stage where talking isn’t real necessary.

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Text is fictional. Photo was shot by Markus Bollingmo; the original was in color and the rest of the series (must see!) are at his Livejournal here, actually.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I sighed and flicked through the images I shot on my camera. Generic after generic shot of a famous actor in his skivvies on a stool. Boring boring boring. He had a good body and the sheen of sweat from the heat of the lights was helping but…

I looked around my studio for a prop or something, and what’s when I saw the bucket. It had used it for a country themed shoot a week ago. I barked out an order for my intern to fill it with water. He did, then came back over to ask me what to do with it. I told him to throw it on Jake. My intern gave me a deer-in-head-lights look, as if to say: You want me to throw a bucket of water on Jake Reynolds? THE Jake Reynolds, from hit shows Dr. What and Chess with Chairs? “Yes” I said, “Do it”. So he did.

Jake whooped when the water hit him and tossed his head like a dog. “Shit that feels good!” he laughed. He stretched his arms up and I shot off another couple dozen frames. Now this is what I wanted – very casual, very intimate. That underwear company is gonna sell tons after this runs in GQ. Of course, I’ll be enjoying it myself too, although it is a little narcissistic to be masturbating to your own photographs.

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Text is fictional. I have a source! This is Corey Higgins; the photographer is Calvin Brockington.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I was exploring the barn when I saw him. I froze in my tracks and gawked at the gorgeous cowboy reclining against a fence.

“So you’re the new cocksucker?”
“What?” I stammer, my jaw dropping. How did he know about that! I had sucked one cock at a bar a mere hour ago.
He smirks. His dark piercing gaze has me pinned in place. “Word travels fast in a small town. We may be old fashioned but we know how to appreciate a good male cock sucker around here. Especially since our last one was claimed by a bullrider from Oklahoma. Been without for a while now. I was sure pleased to hear you’d be workin’ at this here horse ranch.”

“Um,” I stammer. His lush, velvety voice with that slow-as-molasses drawl is very distracting, both upstairs and downstairs.
“You like suckin cock boy?” he asks.
“Yes,” I admit, scratching the back of my neck. ‘Yes’ is an understatement. The headspace I go to when I’m on my knees nursing their erections is my drug.

“Good. Now go pack the bag I left on your bed. No shorts, bring a sweater for night. I gotta go spend three days inspecting the perimeter of the property, checkin’ fences and all. Mighty lonely work.”
“And this is the company you want?”
“You bet your ass I do. Now, go pack. I saddled up a mare for you. Eleanor and I will wait.”

My gaze drifts from ogling his sculpted torso to the beautiful horse by his side – pure silk and muscle. Three days of riding through the brush, stripping nude and enjoying hedonistic pleasures at night? I swallow, and give a polite nod before running off to go pack. I’ll get his name later.

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Text is fictional. The model’s name is Alex and this was shot for Portal Gay de Barcelona. More pictures here.