Benjamin Poirier
Compañía Nacional de Danza // España
Fotografía Carlos Quezada
Spain, where were you hiding this guy? Goddamn!
Tag: goddamn
Justin and Diego decided to treat themselves this Hanukkah and splurge on the best mattress in their budget. The other one was in damn sorry shape. It was yellowed and creaky; there were a big dent in the middle where they cuddled together at night. In addition to the lumps, a couple of the springs were broken – souvenirs from a few particularly vigorous nights of sex.
Three seconds after the delivery boy left with a tip and a handful of Star of David cookies, Justin and Diego peeled out of their clothes and got to testing it out. It looked like a giant rectangular marshmallow. At first they just jumped on the mattress like children, laughing at their cocks bouncing around, but soon hands and mouths gravitated together until they were both randy and ready to play. Diego begged his lover to allow him to try out this position he’d never gotten to do, riding Justin backwards while crouched over his lap. He could only be fucked this way if the bed would do most of the work.
Both men were delighted when the springiness of the mattress lived up to their expectations. For Justin, it was such a bizarre sensation to feel something push up under him when he was thrusting into Diego. His pale cock was deep red and rock solid; he couldn’t take his eyes off that brown bubble-butt bouncing on his thighs up and down, up and down.
God, why hadn’t they done this sooner! They spent the entirety of Hanukkah in the bedroom, enjoying all their favorite positions as if they were brand new. They would kiss after eating chocolate gelt, and the floor was littered with the shiny metal wrappers. By the eighth night of the holiday, they went to light the menorah and realized they still hadn’t even opened most of their presents yet!
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Text is fictional. CockyBoys gets credit.
Instructing his lad on the play out for the up coming session where he will be shared …
Roy was trying to listen to his Master. He usually was entranced by the timbre of his voice, the low commanding tone he used to give instruction. His Master was laying out the specifics on how he was to behave later that night, how many men were coming over, on how he would be tied down and shared for their pleasure. Roy should really had been listening to that. It should have filled him with a bit of nervousness, both over pleasing his Master and pleasing the men. He hadn’t taken so many man in one session, so it was an appropriate time for self-reflection before the night began.
“And they’ll probably want you in the swing, so your hole will be open to them, and they can fuck you one by one..”
But Roy wasn’t thinking about that…he was smelling the smoke from his Master’s cigarette. He could faintly smell the acrid scent of cheap beer too and hear it slosh around in the glass bottle. It reminded Roy, very bluntly, that nine months ago he was in a pub holding those same things when they met. He used to smoke two to four a day. Roy loved the social aspect of smoking, how cool he felt, the shape of the box in his hand. He wanted just one drag, to feel the sweet caress of nicotine of it in his lungs. The cravings had died down after his Master had forced him to quit for his own health, as he couldn’t run even a block, but Roy discovered that the cravings had never really left. He wanted one, more than he wanted an orgasm at this point. And of course, nothing quite rounds out the buzz of a cigarette like the aftertaste of alcohol on the numbed tongue. Roy considered begging, asking for his Master to share them, but Roy did not dare. He knew his Master was doing this on purpose, to remind him distinctly that this casual conversation was masking a lesson about control. About denial. About ownership. And Roy was the one in this cage, awaiting use by all those men, for his owner’s pleasure.
His Master was a man amongst men. Undeniably male, in his form and presence and voice. He could have a cigarette, and a drink whenever he wanted; hell he was entitled to them! Anything in moderation, because Masters are in control of themselves. Roy knew he was not on that level. He was weak, susceptible to peer pressure and addiction. He sought chemicals to dull feelings of inadequacy and poor self-esteem. It was better that his Master had the upper hand and could make decisions for him, about his health, and body, but it didn’t mean Roy always enjoyed it. And now, he wasn’t, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Are you listening, boy?” his Master asked, with a burp.
“Ye-yes Sir.”
“Then what did I just say?”
Roy swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry. “That…that I’ll be stretched before Ortega fucks me, because he is huge, and that I shouldn’t assume I can take him just because I took the others.”
“Or?”
“Or because I’m horny and would be excited by a big dick, Sir,” Roy mumbled, blushing.
His Master took a long drag, then exhaled. Roy nearly whimpered at the scent. “Good boy.” He stubbed the cigarette out, leaving about a quarter of it unburned.
“You please me tonight, you can smoke the rest of this. You fail me, and I’ll make you eat it.”
Roy felt a chill go through him. This was a very different kind of reward, and the challenge excited him. He strained in his cage. “Yes sir, thank you Sir. I will not disappoint you tonight.”
“I do not expect to be disappointed, or embarrassed in front of my friends. Are you a good boy?”
“Yes sir.”
“Are you horny?”
“Yes sir.”
His Master took another swig of beer. “This is going to be a fun night, don’t you think?”
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Text is fictional.
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.
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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.”
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Text is fictional. Source, I think. Lotta butts there.
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.
David Zaleyev dancing the pas de trois variation from ‘Swan Lake’ at the Mariinsky Theatre, 29.10.2014
Excuse me while I impress you all with my gigantic thighs and my ability to look damn good in white tights.
Taut and drawn.
Pitzintekutli Xochipilli / México
Fotografía Carlos Quezada
Yes, this boy’s full name is Pitzintekutli Xochipilli Méndez Zenteno. Apparently he goes by Pitzintekutli Mendezi. I found a video of him doing an audition here and nailing it. Mexico is lucky to have this beautiful, talented creature representing them in the classical dance world.
This is close to how I picture a young Lucien, maybe around 17? – skinny/fit, a bit malnourished from childhood, boyish, unaware of how beautiful he is, and clad in tiny shorts without any underwear on underneath them.
For reference, Lucien stores are here.