Tag: gay captions

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by ccallenreese

My nerves were on edge. Walking around an empty subway station at 3 am in a jockstrap and flip flops will do that to you. I turned a bend on the tracks and saw three men standing there, and knew they were the ones just by the way they were dressed, their posture. For weeks, a friend of mine had been acting as a mediator between these men and I. I didn’t want to meet them or see their faces before they took me and used me for the weekend. Of course, kidnapping fantasies are never so clear cut…there’s a lot of talk about limits, contracts, legal mumbo jumbo. So I had a lawyer friend handle it to keep me removed from the process as much as possible.

Finally, I got my orders to show up late late Friday night. Exposed. Alone. You wouldn’t believe the boner I had. They stopped chatting amongst themselves upon spotting me. Grins spread on their faces

“Well well well…he came. Well, he won’t be coming this whole weekend, but at least he was punctual once.”
Another snickered. “Now what a nice piece of meat this is. Still, it’s funny to see a faggot wearing clothing. Can’t wait to get you home boy and into your more…natural setting.”
The third spoke up. “Oh Hammond was right, this was going to be a most interesting weekend.”

I couldn’t run even if I wanted to. The urge to drop to my knees and suck all their cocks over-powered me. I was very lucky because they let me. With a belly full of cum, they stripped me of my underwear before they tied me up like a hog and threw me in the back of their van. It was the start of most intense, degrading 48 hours of my life and I enjoyed every second of it.

Wonder what my husband and kids would think, knowing the things their corporate father used to do to satisfy his lust…

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“How’s it fit?” he asks.
“Snug,” I reply.
The vendor looks pleased and gestures to the rest of the wares in the boxes. “Well adjust yourself a little, take your time. Don’t rush it.”

I take his advice, tugging on it, testing how tight it is. I think He’ll like it. I don’t really know what else to do. When you have a fight with a Sir, it’s not like you can apologize flowers and a card. Men like that need more, not hollow symbolism or vague imagery. They need something solid, and blunt, something more than just kneeling naked at their feet. For most gay couples that would be the ultimate sign of submission and trust, but I’m nude all the time anyway and kneeling several times a day in respect is standard protocol.

How do you tell a Master He doesn’t have to be scared? Half the BDSM scene glorifies coaxing subs out of their shells, but no one talks about coaxing out the Masters. My poor Sir. He’s such a natural and it overwhelms Him to feel that urge coursing through his veins. He is shocked to see it staring back at Him when He looks in the mirror dressed for a session.

I want him to collar me. I’ve caught him looking at collars online, but he refuses to talk about it. For the past few years my Master’s kept me at a distance, acts like He keeps me around purely to fuck me, but I know He wants more. He wants Us, he’s just too chicken to admit it.

It wasn’t my place, but I called Him out on it after the millionth time He insisted I’m his “boyfriend” at the bars but his “sub” at home. After our fight, He told me he doesn’t need a mouthy slave and sent me away with the pain of regret fresh in His eyes.

This will have to do the trick. I know my Sir’s had a chastity fetish for a long long time, but He’s never brought it up with me. It’s just one of those things, like the titles, the collar, and talking about our feelings. Once the key is in his hand, He’ll have a physical object that embodies how much he controls me. My Sir will be forced to take care of and supervise my chastity…He won’t be able to stay away from me this way, all tempting and horny. When I’ve snagged Him, I’ll crack Him open and get him to spill all those bottled up feelings. Is chastity therapy a thing? Well I’m gonna find out. He means too much to me to just let it end like this.

“Yes…I’ll take this. Can you help me get fitted with the sleeve please?”

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Come ‘ere. Come..come here.”
He walks over to me but doesn’t kiss me. I put an arm over his shoulder. “What are you doing here in your underwear at 6:30 in the morning?”
“I miss your penis.”
“Have you slept?”
“No.”
“You’re not on the drugs again are you?”
He snorts. “No…I just…can’t sleep, you know. Keep thinking about it. They say when you quit drugs, when you quit smoking, you have to substitute it for something else. I realized, you know, halfway over here…I thought that’s why I wanted your cock, you know, oral fixation? Cause I have this crazy urge to suck you…” he rambles, still not looking at me. I let him think and after a bit he continues.
“I just realized it was the other way around, you know? Cause I wouldn’t let myself have you, so I just propped myself up with the drugs. It’s gone now and those feelings they’re still there. Just CJ I miss you… I miss you naked, the way you feel on top of me, the way you fill up my hand, the taste of you on your fingers. Take me to bed, CJ…please…”

I cup his face in my palm, “Don’t mistake being horny for being in love, Jack.”
“I can’t tell the difference,” he sighs.
I nuzzle him, I can smell the sleep on his skin. “What do you plan to do when you’ve come, and the feeling is over, and you feel sticky and embarrassed and wanting a cigarette hm? Will you just take my cum and leave?”
Jack’s head is still tilted down, like a guilty puppy, but he is looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t make me leave. Everything in my apartment smells like pot and drugs.”
“You really want my penis?”
“…and your balls… I liked to play them in my hand, when you’re half asleep.”

We both look up as my roommate walks in the kitchen and pauses dead in her tracks. She’s wearing a bathrobe, hair all frizzy, a big owlish look on her face. “Um, am I interrupting something?”
“Oh nothing, Sarah…we were just uh, going to bed. Don’t mind us.”
In my ear, I hear Jack heave a huge sigh of relief. “Yeah, sorry…don’t mind us.”

He pulls me off the counter and we escape to my room.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Quintus,” I sigh. My slave is hopeless. We’re having a heat wave here in Rome and he’s trying to cool down by dumping an amphora full of water over his body. The thin muslin clings to every curve and becomes fully transparent. He looks down at himself and seems to just realize this. He looks up at me and gives me a sheepish look, “I didn’t think it’d be so transparent, Sir…”
I let my eyes linger on his long, dark cock. His nickname is Horse for a reason. It’s brutally hot here but all I want to is to take him to bed and ravish his body as he cries out and grabs the pillow. I walk up to him and hold it in my hand, shocked at how hot it is even with all that water on him.

“Come join me in the gardens… it’s cooler there under the trees. I’ll have some servants bring some figs and chilled wine. All this heat is built up in your lovely, vulgar penis boy…you’re going to damage your beautiful sperm. As your Master it is my job to care of you and make sure you’re in optimal health. Now come.”
“Yes sir,” he purrs, setting down the amphora. Quintus tries to tug down his blouse and realizes it’s pointless and gives up, letting himself hang out. My slaves are nearly nude in loinclothes all the time anyway, but he is still so shy. I can sense him burning in embarrassment as everyone eyes us jealously as we walk to the gardens with my arm around his wet waist. I make sure they all see the brand on his ass as we stroll past…he is mine, and will always be mine.

_____________________________
Text is fictional, source is below:

gonakedmagazine:

GoNaked Magazine – the digital magazine for male nudists! Over 50K+ readers worldwide. Real nudists, real men, Reviews, Interviews, Photos, Travel, Reader Gallery and much more. Download/buy an issue? http://goo.gl/zSg1VC . Free, donation or bitcoin accepted Get on our mailing list while you’re there – pink button in the upper right corner.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

sorrygirlsisuckcock:

http://sorrygirlsisuckcock.tumblr.com/

“Wow boy is that really you?” My Sir raises an eyebrow.
I try suppress a smile. “Yes Sir.”
He looks at me, then back at the photo. “So how hungover were you the next day?”
“Sooo hungover. Matter of the fact that was the day I started to wish I had someone to keep me in check…hard to believe that little thought lead me to this.”
He chuckles and hands me back the photo. “A boy unbridled. Look at you now…I wonder what the boy in this photo would say if he saw you now, with your shaved head, your collar round his neck, cock safely protected…”
I feel like I’m blushing. I always do when he sounds proud of me. “I think that boy would be confused but…wistful. A bit jealous. Curious. He’d see the potential, and it would stick with him.”

My Sir kisses me on my forehead. “Are you happy?”
“Yes of course!” I cry. “You have done so much for me Sir…I needed that discipline, my head is so clear now. No more hangovers, no more masturbating when I should be doing other things, no more piles of dishes…plus now that I’m in your service there is always a fine cock to think about too. I want it all the time though…”
He grins. “Well you were thinking about cock anyway. I just streamlined your focus. Now, come join me downstairs, all this talk of discipline has put me in a mood to make you drip.”
“Yes Sir!”

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Text is fictional. Updating from my phone so there might be formatting issues.  Fixed!

Gallery
by ccallenreese

gayboykink:

That handprint on his butt tells you he’s been a naughty boy.

“Come on no one’s looking!”
Dean was a terribly naughty boy. He had the prettiest, cutest little cock for miles around and he knew it. He played with it all the time, even in the backyard, when the neighbors could hear. His dad would give him a spanking for misbehaving, or neglecting his chores, but it would turn him on even more and so he’d come next door looking for me. He’d sashay over, nibbling on his thumb, the tip of his cock peeking out of his underwear. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He also knew it put me in heat like nothing else to jerk off his underwear and see a fresh red handprint on his ass. I would tease him by tapping my dick against his buttcheek and he’d just moan anyway, just because a man was paying attention to him. When I was properly dripping, I’d lube him up good and just slam it home. Dean loved it hard, he loved his prostate being hammered relentlessly, he liked to feel the cool air against his wet cock as it bobbed between his legs. My favorite position was just to stand there buried in him as I shot my load in him, our bodies pressed flushed together, sweating together.

My favorite memories of those summers aren’t school football games, sneaking out to be with girls, drinking too hard at underage parties… no, most of those favorite memories are of fucking Dean against the wall of his parent’s house and holding his spasming cock as we came together. He was such a loud little thing too.

I know, I know what you’re saying, that was horny and dumb and I took advantage of him. I think I was protecting him, really, there was no shortage of rougher bigger men that would have wrecked his pussy before he was 25. By claiming him, and being the source of what he needed, I gave him a wonderful youth of debauchery and hedonism.

Even though we don’t live anywhere near eachother now, sometimes I still think when I get the mail, I’ll look up and see Dean walking up to me…straining in his underwear, and nibbling on thumb.

________________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Sev and Igor come from a rural village where they have a strange tradition. Upon reaching 20, two men of comparable size will couple to strengthen the bond between families and to erase any simmering grudges from their youth. They determine which one bottoms by grabbing onto eachother’s cocks; first one to smile or laugh loses. Since they were away from home at college when they both turned 20, they only had eachother to complete the tradition. I was a bit worried how our frat would feel about this homo-erotic practice, but they were all in favor of cultural sensitivity. They got into the spirit of things by placing bets. Igor lost. I bet for Sev and made out like a bandit.

______________________________
Text is fictional; source is Randy Blue.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I fell in love with Andre watching him pick out produce at my neighborhood’s Farmer’s Market. His concentration, his obsession with perfect, shape, and scent was remarkable. It was actually rather adorable to see a grown man in a fine wool coat admire apples like he was picking out diamond jewelry. I offered to buy him hot cider. He accepted, and we ended up meeting for dinner.

Dating a ballet dancer has its ups and downs – and its side to sides and leaps across the room. When he is not practicing, he’s at the physical therapist; when he’s not getting preventative treatments, there’s rehearsals, costume fittings, photoshoots… busy busy!

After almost a year of this, I told Andre I thought our relationship was strained by not only his schedule, but the fact he lived on the other side of town from me. He was rarely ever home anyway so I suggested, why not move in with me? I could see in his eyes how much he wanted to say yes, to wake up in the morning spooned against me, to receive those backscratches I did so well, to allow more moments for spontaneous sex to happen. He said my house was just a bit too far from the studio to live there together. I told him he meant the world to me, and I would see what I could do. Andre looked puzzled, but his lips curled up at the corners. “Oh really big guy? Show me then.”

Five weeks later, I ushered him blindfolded into my basement. My house was built etched into a hill so the basement half jutted out into the backyard (the top half was really the main level as the driveway connected to it out front). I particularly liked this because it meant the basement had windows and would fill with natural light in late morning. I picked this time to lead Andre down there by his elegant, manicured hands. I ignored his pestering questions and guided him.

“What? What is it baby? What sort of Valentines Day present did you get me?”
Finally I halted him in place. “Not ‘get’, ‘had made’.” I removed the blindfold. Andre’s jaw dropped. I had turned one of my storage rooms into a practice studio for him, all for him.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I put my hands up in a reassuring gesture, “Yes, it’s insulated, and I actually hired a woman who specializes in building dance studios. She said it’s all at professional standards, down to how slick the floor is…” but he wasn’t listening, he was just staring.

“Oh my god it’s perfect! It’s PERFECT! I can’t believe you had this made for me!” he screeched, throwing his arms around me and nearly knocking me over.
“Ooof!” I wrapped my arms around his slim, muscular waist and hugged him back. “You said my house was far, so maybe, this might encourage you to come here more often, not spend so much time at the studio all alone?”

His face was beautiful, on the verge of tears. “You want to see me so badly…?”
“Yes baby,” I kissed his full lips. “Don’t laugh, but I fell for you the day I saw you buying apples. I am in real danger of falling into deep, stupid love here and I had to show you I was serious about this relationship.”
He was still looking at everything as if he mildly stunned. I set him down and he walked over to touch the bar and admire himself in the mirror. “It’s just perfect.” Then he did begin to cry in earnest. I held him and kissed him passionately, to tell him it was alright without saying a word.

Remember how I said I knew he wanted more opportunities for spontaneous sex? We ended up christening the studio right there on the brand new floor. I caught Andre watching himself in the mirror as I thrust between his sculpted legs. I knew it pleased him, to see how much I was enjoying myself, to hear our cries mingle and echo in the empty room he’d claim as his own space. This was this thank you gift to me. 

Now, we have dinner together at least four nights a week instead of one or two. Instead of texting Andre, pestering him about if we can hang out, I just stick my head downstairs and announce “dinner’s ready!” and he comes bounding up the stairs like a gazelle. He really might be part gazelle.

I have no idea what I’m going to get him for Valentine’s Day next year, but more than that I’m looking forward to one more magical year together, this time as lovers sharing the same home together. Our home.

______________________________________________________
Text is 100% fictional. The dancer is Ricardo Santos in 2007. Source of the photo is here. Santos is a Brazilian dancer, now with the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago (goddamn!).

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I had to go out of town for work, and when I was stuck in the hotel late at night bored and alone, my boyfriend decided to entertain me over Skype by jiggling his hot fuckable ass at me in his favorite thong. It made me absolutely insane; my yearning to fuck him went through the roof.
I sighed in exasperation, “…Fuck it, I want to change my airline ticket and coming home early. I don’t wanna go to that stupid meeting tomorrow.”

He called over his shoulder into the webcam microphone, “Why don’t I come there? It’ll be expensive but we can split it… we have that hotel room for another night, and you said there’s a jacuzzi in that hotel right? Extend it one more night. I bet we could get into a lot of trouble, leaving some sexy marks on the glass of the windows, you sliding into me on the roof of the parking garage…”

I moaned at the idea of turning this sterile evil business trip into a sexy weekend adventure. “You know when you jiggle your ass at me when asking for favors, I am physically unable to say no,” I reminded him.

“Forward me the email of that ticket when you buy it!” he grinned widely at me, sliding his hands up his thighs. I shake my head and smile. He’s so demanding, but he’s worth it. “Fine, fine I’ll buy it. Now where were we? Oh yes, Show me your beautiful ass up close again boy…and this time, strip for me. I know what a voyeur you are, will you do a little strip tease for me?”

A lightbulb went off over his head and he ran off camera. I heard rustling. When he returns, he’s carrying his favorite purple dildo. “How about a striptease and this too?”
I purred, “Fuck yes baby, I wanna watch that.”

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Text is fictional.