“Come on Leo shake your ass…. That is not shaking your ass. I said shake it! I wanna that bubble butt in action, hard. I wanna get a call from the goddamn USGS that you’re on the fucking Richter scale now shake it!! …Good boy.”
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Text is fictional.
He’s on his back on my bed, but it still feels like he’s trying to run away from me. It’s the way he’s completely taut and stretched out, making his flat belly concave and his ribs heave when he breathes. His head is tilted back, and he only dares to gaze at me downward, as if it’s polite to avert his eyes. He’s scared of what it might mean if he does look me head-on, unblinking. With one hand on his knee, and the other grabbing the edge of the bed, it’s like he’s holding on for dear life to avoid spinning out untethered, reeling. Poor boy, it’s just an orgasm. Why has society taught you to fear it so much?
Probably because the same society told him he was straight by default, that he’d be experimenting with girls instead. He’s wary of being with men, and confused over his feelings for them. Watching him flirt with me was like watching a kid descend the stairs in a laundry basket and flipping halfway through – hilarious and painful, yet somewhat adorable and endearing.
It would be me who would have to make the first move, I knew. Kissing him, holding his hand, each repulsed him and baffled him, as if he’d somehow banned himself from participating in homosexual love at all, as if it somehow might override any heterosexual feelings he had left – which was close to 0. He’s a silly boy, but erasing years of programming is not an easy thing. It took a year to get this far, to get him naked, on my bed. His cock is a hot rock in my hand, and I’m dripping buckets as I jerk us off together. I can see the vein in his throat throbbing. His body is enjoying this, his mind is sitting this one out. I smile down at him reassuringly. “You just gotta do what feels good, don’t listen to what anyone else says.”
He swallows hard and nods. Easier said than done. “I’m… I’m gonna! I’m close!” his face twists in surprise as if he were expecting the Easter Bunny instead.
“Let it happen, don’t hold it back,” I command, but he’s still biting his lip, resisting. God sometimes he can be so stupid, and what for? I press my fingers into the tip of his glans with a smug look on my face, and his balls compress and empty their load in a big burst of cum. He’s gasping like a drowning victim, clutching the bed with white fingers.
I lean over and press my weight on top of him, rubbing against him with unbridled bliss as I shoot onto his stomach. I want him to know what it’s like to have a man between your legs. It’s such a wonderful sensation. Warm. Sexy. Secure. I reach between us and pet his twitching cock gently.
“How was that?”
“Holy shit,” he gasps. I don’t think he expected to enjoy it as an outcome, although it was inevitable. Such a pessimist.
I kiss his jaw, even though he tenses. “I can feel you spasming against me.”
“Is that weird…?”
“No, it’s very good…that was really nice, we should do that again sometime.”
He half nods, his eyes blank marbles. He needs time to digest this, to accept the truth. He’s gay, and this is what it’s gonna be like.
“Being with a man…it’s not that bad isn’t it?” I pout. He blinks at me, wondering if I read his mind. He takes a deep breath and puts an arm around me, still silent. I freeze, wanting to say something but I don’t want to ruin the moment.
I dare say it, but I think we’re moving forward. Agonizing, painstaking progress, but progress none-the-less.
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Text is fictional. Boys are from Corbin Fisher.
Allbecauseoftheboys has hit its six month anniversary! The first post was on September 2, 2013, which means March 2nd was month number six, nearing the end of month number seven.
I can’t believe how fast it’s gone. I’ve met some incredibly nice – and incredibly interesting – people on Tumblr. I don’t know how I got along without you all. I have over 2,600 followers and I love each and every one of you. Thank you all for reading, even if you lurk.
Just are reminder, if you want to go through my archives with ease, I do have a random function and a messy list of tags.
Here’s to another six months of porn, love, and cock!
There was someone in my bed again. I groaned. That meant I’d caved in and taken E at that club. Every time I take E, I end up taking some stranger home. Last month, I also took home syphilis. I cracked open an eye, wincing, to see what sort of creature had fucked my sore ass last night ….and ended up just staring at a wall of muscle. A six pack…no, an eight pack? maybe? He had a torso like you’d see on a statute in a museum, something carved out of flesh colored marble. I gawked, until a deep buttery voice said, “Hey you awake?”
I looked up into the face of the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Solid, cut jaw, aqualine nose, high cheekbones, perfectly shaped cinnamon eyebrows over bright tea colored eyes. I worked my own jaw, unable to form sentences. “I um – I…yeah.”
“Good, how do you feel?”
Horny? Dizzy? Baffled? “Like there’s cotton in my head…” I sat up, rubbing my temples. It was then I realized I was not in my room and I froze, looking around. “Shit, where am I? How hard did I party last night? Why do I always take E…whywhywhy…”
Mr. Sexy sat up next to me and said, “It wasn’t E. Someone put GHB in your drink last night. I punched the guy in the face, got him arrested, then took you home.”
I stare. “I didn’t pick you up – you rescued me?”
“Yeah,” he says, grinning sheepishly.
“Then why is my ass sore, did he- did you -”
“No no, you uh, tried to sit down on some steps outside my apartment building and ending up dropping yourself right on your tailbone.”
I search his face, seeking any signs of him fibbing, but found only honestly…and a cute smile. “Well thank you Mr….”
“Kennington.”
“…Wait, of Kennington Law Group?”
“That’s the one,” he sighs.
“What’s your first name?”
“Rutherford.” He cringes, “Most people call me Rudy.”
I chuckle, “You don’t really like that either?”
“No.”
“What about Ken?”
He pauses, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair, “Yeah, Ken’s alright.”
“Well Ken, thank you for rescuing me. A true gentleman. If I may, I’d like to reward you, go home with a purposely sore ass,” I offered, placing a hand on his thigh.
His eyebrow goes up, and he chews on his lip. Despite his half hard-on under the sheets, he replies, “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea, you could blackmail me something….being semi famous makes me paranoid. I wish though, I haven’t gotten laid in months.”
“Fine.” I look around and find a notepad and pen in the night stand drawer. In hasty font I scribble: ‘I give my consent to let R. Kennington fuck my brains out,’ and scribbled my signature. “There.”
Ken takes it, looking bemused. “Well, no one can argue with this. Alright, let’s get some fluids into you, and some food, and then you can reward me?”
“Mmm,” I nibble his shoulder, grazing a hand over his defined chest, “Not sure if I can wait…”
He reaches behind me and squeezes my ass, “You will wait, I don’t want you passing out on me.”
A thrill ran through me. “Yes sir,” I purr.
He grins. I can tell he likes that. I can tell he likes me. The only downside to the three hours of incredible, masculine sex we had was that I couldn’t tell anyone about my catch afterwards. When I saw my friends again, I had to make up a fake story, about E and a one night stand, all while Ken’s phone number lingered in my pocket. My pocket, where all the condoms were, now empty.
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Text is fictional.
The white rumped warbler is an unusual species in where the male seduces other males for the attention of females. During mating season, the more submissive warbler will seduce a potential mate through dance by gyrating and by lifting his rear up and down. The blue bib on its back draws the eye from the shoulders down the spine; as the skin ripples from movement, it mesmerizes other males. When the warbler flashes his white rump at his suitor, it indicates that the suitor has pleased him and wishes for his attention. If interested back, the suitor will go into a frenzy at being shown a glimpse of the warblers sex organs and will push him down, cover him with his body, and mate with him vigorously.
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Text is fictional, imagine David Attenborough saying it anyway.
Haha it’s like he’s thinking “if I don’t look at his adorable face, I won’t cum…just don’t look at him!”
Lay back and think of England!
You don’t realize how many holidays involve drinking until you’re trying to avoid them. Even the casual pool party is full of beer. A nice date night almost surely involves wine. Spiked eggnog cor Christmas, champagne on New Years, it’s ubiquitous. St. Patrick’s day is probably the worst as it’s synonymous with DUI checkpoints, green vomit, and cringe-worthy flashbacks about comments you made to that one hot redhead.
Normally, I try to keep busy with projects but there just wasn’t anything this time around. I found myself pacing around the house. I wanted to go out to a bar, have a drink, play pool, flirt with cute Irish boys from across the pond. Just one wouldn’t be such a backslide right? I knew myself though, one would turn into two, two into four, four into 4 am.
I was pacing around the bedroom, trying to push the nicotine-strong craving for booze out of my head and chewing my nails when my boyfriend came home.
“…Baby?” Ben called out, wandering the house until he found me. He was relieved to see I was here, but when he saw my face his clouded up. “Hey Tad, are you alright?”
I huffed loudly and sat on the bed, “Nothing it’s just… ” I raise a hand and then let it fall to the bed. “You know.”
He nods. “The craving is back?”
“Like a beast. Fuck, I can just taste it… like, I can smell the bar and everything.”
Ben stands in front of me. “Cause of Saint Patrick’s Day, huh?”
I nod miserably. “Just one…I just want one…”
He takes my hands in his own. Ben’s been my rock in all of my recovery, and when I plead like this, what I’m really asking is for a distraction. I never expect him to say “fine, only one” and he never, ever has.
Ben kisses my forehead. “How about-” he pushes me backwards and climbs on top of me, straddling my waist while discarding his shirt, “-we stay in, instead. Save us the money we’d waste, and fuck.”
“Mnnn I do like fucking but…you’d finish in a couple minutes, then what?”
The corners of Ben’s lips slide up into a Chesire grin, “Whaaat about if I bottom?”
“…You’re in the mood to bottom?”
“A rare occurrence but yes. And you know how tight I am, could take a while to loosen me up. Maybe a shower first?”
I grab his hips, slide my hands over his bubble butt. “That could take a while…” I agree.
He arches over and kisses me. I can’t help kissing him back. He’s incredibly convincing shirtless, I’m not sure if it’s his nipples or his pecs or what. I pause to inhale some air. “But…but what about after?”
“Well, if we do it right, you’re going to be exhausted, thinking of my hot body instead of a bar. I like to think I smell better anyway, even after sex.”
I snort.
“And, Tad, I thought after we cleaned up, we’d make one of those English breakfasts you love so much for dinner and have a picnic in the living room.”
I look at Ben’s hopeful face as I fiddle with his short strings.
“So… I can either go out, drink too many beers, get sick, hungover, and have to deal with your guilt tripping me the next morning, potentially ruining our relationship; or I can stay in, fuck my hot boyfriend who rarely ever wants to bottom, and then watch him make my favorite meal wearing only an apron? Man, that is a hard choice.” I smile, squeezing his ass with both hands.
Ben grins before he bends over and ravishes me with kisses again. “Your cock has already made the choice I see…”
I huff air through my nose. “Thank god I have a separate brain in my dick that knows what’s good for me.”
“Thaaank god,” he agrees, relief and pride all over his handsome face.
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Text is fictional; the man on top is Jake Bass, the man on bottom is Tommy Defendi. Thanks to annamartinwrites for the names.
I stop dead in my tracks when I walk into the bedroom; he’s obviously on the edge of heat. I watch him writhe in silence on the bed while I undo my tie. “Hmmm….you…want me to do laundry?”
“No!”
“Give you a spanking?”
“Noooo!”
“You …like the new sheets I bought?”
“ARG! Get over here and fuck me!”
“mm no I’m not sure that’s what you really want.”
“Why are you torturing me?” he whimpers.
I begin to unbutton my shirt. “Because…I think you want more than a fuck. I think you want to be tied to the bed, edged, have your balls smacked, and then slowly slowly fucked until you go crazy. But I just can’t tell.”
He keens out into the pillow. “Fuuuck yeah I want that.”
“Mm still not sure.”
He gives me this murderous look, then stomps to the closet. He returns with the rope, a paddle, lube, a feather, and vibrating dildo and dumps them all on the bed with a huff.
I grin. “Oh noooow I understand. See, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”
He throws a pillow at me. “Get those pants off or I’m taking them off.”
“Tsk tsk…bossy bottom. Do we need to get you a gag too?” I ask.
“Oh you are so infuriating!”
“Yes, but you love me. Now, be a good boy, and finish undressing me.”
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Text is fictional. The gif I think came from peterfever.com.
I love my man. We just had amazing sex. He was frustrated from work, I was bored and horny from being home all day – no college classes today. We went right from dinner to the bedroom. He was tender to me, careful not to hurt me, but at the same time tempestuous and domineering. I love post-sex cuddles, but he’s biologically programmed to pass out immediately after. At first I resented for this, blamed him for spoiling the mood, but I was a fool.
Even though my balls are empty, my head is a fuzzy mess still running on the last smoldering embers from our lovemaking. Turns out I wanted nothing more to just lie here and enjoy him in a private way. To be honest, I find it a little bit sexy that he just passes out like this. It’s so feral and masculine, the way he just dumps his seed and goes to bed now that his important task of claiming me is finished. Big man like him needs his rest so he can go back to supporting us tomorrow.
Yes, I’m truly content to just rest here next to him, listening to him breathe, watching his chest expand with each breath. He has a beautiful body and a great butt, but as a bottom I only see it in the shower. Despite his swagger and confidence, he is secretly nervous about how bottoms see him, especially those that become lovers. He gets defensive and shy when he catches me ogling him in the bathroom or when he changes. He obsesses over his weight and the perfect balance of “bulking up” and “ketoing”. Since he’s unconscious, I get full insider access to him without the risk of him getting skittish and bolting like a deer in the road.
I had a thought the other day during one of these cuddle sessions, when I was caressing and exploring the terrain of his tree trunk thighs – that it’s almost like getting to see the workings of a great machine. Under this gently curved skin are the thick cords of muscles that allow him to fuck me the way he does. Sure his big dick is what prods my prostate and makes me gasp, but those toe-curling thrusts are all due to the power of his muscles and tendons expanding and contracting around his bones.
I stay up sometimes an hour or more, falling in love with every tiny little part of him that works behind the scenes. The knuckles of his fingers allow him to grip my aching cock. His eyelids keep his dark brown eyes moist. His stubby toes allow him to dig into the mattress and get some real traction. Each little vertebrae in his spine flexes so he can bend over me and kiss my cheek while starting his thrusts. So many little parts of him… I wonder if I’ll ever learn them all, but there will be many more nights like this – he’s horny, I’m horny, he passes out. I find this thought comforting.
When I say I love my man, I mean it… I love the man, every single thing about him.
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Text is fictional. Boys are Kris Evans and Marcel Gassion of Bel Ami.
Aaron knows there are plenty of ways to worship the cock of a man who is of higher standing than he is… his hands, his mouth, his ass, for example, and he is talented in all three. Sometimes though it’s just delightful to take a pause and give it a long look, maybe gently stroking it as it grows harder and harder. Aaron often wonders how such a couple inches of flesh brainwashes him into being such a mindless slut, how it drives him crazy, makes him an addict for the rush of being powerless to another man. Each and every cock is unique, its taste and temperature and scent. No batteries, no screens, no engine, nothing complicated…just nature and evolution, and it is a gift to cherish every single day.
“…What is he doing down there? He’s got this glazed look on his face.”
“Aw, let me him be. I think he’s cute when he gets like this. He’s off in this zone.”
“…Wait, wait I know that look on your face…do you love him?”
“Yeah, yeah, I do. And he knows it.”
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Text is fictional.