Tag: male nudity

Gallery
by ccallenreese

He sighed, “But Daddy-”
“The only ‘but’ I want to see is the one facing me. Go sit in the corner for your time-out, or I will double it.”
He pouted but shuffled over on his knees and did it anyway. I watch his cock jiggle between his legs as he lowered himself to the floor. Such a big dick on that boy!
I cleared my throat. “Tell me what you’re being punished for.”
“For staying up late, falling asleep with the TV on, and not turning on the dishwasher.”
“Yes. You broke your bed time curfew, and your TV curfew, and we had no clean dishes for breakfast this morning, so you are going to sit there for an hour and think about how you can improve for next time. …Don’t pout at me, it won’t work.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more responsible Daddy.”
“Good. You will learn. 32 is too old to not have any discipline. You will be under my supervision until you are at least 35.
He sighed again. "I appreciate your investment in me, Daddy. Still sucks sitting in time out though.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer a spanking?”
“No!”
I gave him a slightly evil-sounding chuckle. I loved spanking him, because he absolutely hated being treated like a child. I got a thrill out of him flailing helplessly, feeling his cock harden and leak against my leg as his cheeks turned redder and redder. I saved that for big punishments though, as they were very effective. “That’s what I thought. I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

“…Am I still going to be allowed to play paint ball tomorrow with the guys?”
“Maybe. If you’re well-behaved today and give proper service to my cock.”
“I’ll be good I promise! I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue on your balls.”
You know exactly how to make me go weak, I thought. “Actions are louder than words, boy. You can show me later. Now you sit there, and think about why I put you there.”
“Yes Daddy.” He hung his head.
“ Good boy. I’m proud of you for understanding that I know what’s best for you.”

______________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Look what I made,” Avery said again, bursting with pride. “I made these.”
“They’re beautiful. Made with love,” Graham confirmed, wrapping his arms around his partner.
“They are.” Avery took deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh-baked pies. “You think they’re beautiful? They’re kinda messy. The filling spilled out everywhere.”
Graham nuzzled their noses together and placed a chaste kiss to Avery’s lips. “I think they will still taste delicious.”
“The batter was plenty good.”
Graham chuffed through his nose. “That it was.”

Avery set the tray down on the counter, unable to tear his eyes off the final product. He made these! He couldn’t remember the last time felt pride in his work. “I made these,” he said again. “I can bake. I’m going to be a good houseboy.”
“Yes. See, it’s not so hard. You just follow the instructions, take your time, make sure you have good ingredients.”
Avery tucked his chin; his gaze drifted to the floor. “It sounds simple. Dan used to tell me I screwed up every. single. time. The recipes were confusing, the ingredients cheap. He liked to pinch pennies. He would eat one, then throw it into the sink, then make me bend over and he’d cane me.”

Graham embraced Avery even tighter, hoping a reassuring hug from behind would chase away bad memories. He was there at Avery’s physical, so they’d have evidence to process a case of abuse against Dan. Some of those cane stripes were now scars. Avery’s beautiful butt had been faintly marked forever. Graham hated that. It made him mad as hell, but Graham told himself if he thought of Dan, Dan would win. He had to let Avery’s past go if he was to have a future with Avery. Still, it was going to be difficult.

“Graham?” Avery asked softly. “You’re breathing hard. Are you ok? Did – did I do something?”
Graham opened his eyes. “No. Not at all. I was just …stewing. I am still mad at myself for letting you go the first time, when you were cleaning for me part time. I was so stupid, letting you go because I was scared how fast I was falling for you. And Dan happened. You shouldn’t have been punished for me.”
Avery half-turned so he could look at Graham over his shoulder. “Is that what you think happened?”
Graham nodded miserably.
“No,” the slimmer man insisted, his voice firm. “Absence makes the heart fonder. It was only because I moved out that you were able to see clearly how much you love me.”
“I do,” Graham groaned.
“You were able to see what you really wanted. You chased after me so hard to get me back. What happened with Dan was just an ugly fact of life. You were there for me after, and that’s what I wanted. You have atoned.”
"Wow,” Graham breathed.
Avery glanced again at the pretty little pies. “Can I put these on the cooling rack now?” he asked, excited.
“Yes. Go on. Use the spatula. Gentle now.” Graham watched Avery work, and he began to rock him. “I can’t believe you still let me love you.”

“I am really happy you love me. I just want to be a good houseboy. You sent me away. Dan hurt me. I felt like such a failure. I am on cloud nine that you gave me a second chance and are teaching me how to be a great houseboy.” Avery swallowed hard and sniffled.
“Aww, there, there. It’s ok.” Graham kissed his neck and his ear-lobe. “You’re safe now, and you’re mine.”
“I love you Graham.”
“I love you more Avery.”

Avery slid off the oven-mitts, then turned around into Graham’s embrace. They kissed passionately, Avery losing himself in the soft yet firm texture of Graham’s lips. He tasted a bit like blueberries, from when they had licked the falling off each-other’s fingers earlier. After a long tender moment, the kisses trailed off to little nips here and there. They both had to catch their breath. Avery felt something hard poking against his hip.
“I had no idea baking could be so …so sexy,” Avery gasped.
“Is it really the baking?” Graham joked.“
"Well…” Avery puckered his lips in thought. “I think it’s the idea that I’m doing something for my man that he likes. It’s sexy to know he likes me doing it for him. Can happiness be sexy?”
“Oh absolutely,” Graham replied instantly. “I am turned on right now by the sign of your butt in your apron, yes, but I think more than that, it’s how much you are glowing with pride at your accomplishment.”
“I made those,” Avery repeated, gesturing to the pies. “…Wait, what if they don’t taste good?”

Graham traced Avery’s lower lip with his thumb. “There, there, don’t fret. How about we have a nice afternoon tea session? Baked goods, tea, the nice china. I um, bought that tea you like. Remember – the floral kind from France?”
The young man gasped. “You remembered that?”
“Of course! I hadn’t found anyone else that likes that stuff. I bought a big ol’ thing of it.”

Avery bounced on this toes. “Can you um, watch me to make sure I make the tea properly? I don’t want to burn it. I don’t know which forks to use at tea either…”
Graham smiled. “Of course. I will teach you everything you will need to know to be the perfect houseboy.”
”Your perfect houseboy.”
”My perfect houseboy. Mmnn not just that. My Avery.”
Avery felt a lump in his throat form. “Oh, Graham~ I could listen to you say that forever.”
“You better get used to it, love, because I plan to.”

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Text is fictional. The source is an utterly fantastic blog called Piefolk, in where gay guys get together on “SunDATES” and bake. The relevant post is here. This post isn’t intended to assume their personalities. The guys in the photo I think had an intimate moment, but it didn’t work out as boyfriends, according to the blogpost. The photography was done by Tri Vo Studios.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

obedienceisgolden:

I try to be Daddy’s sexy little wife as much as I can. Making him happy and horny is what I live for.

I hear his soft footfalls as he enters the kitchen. “Hello Jackson,” I say, busy prepping supper.
“God, I could listen to you say my name forever,” he admits. “I love your accent.”
“Jack-son?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” he exhales, like that “You’re cooking nude again. In that pristine white apron…” Jackson presses himself up behind me and his palm slides over my ass. “My Russian beauty.”

He’s necking me now, so I lean back against him and offer my lips. He dips his head and our mouths lock. It’s sweet, tender kisses that make my knees weak. For a moment I forget supper and just hope he wants to take it to the bedroom. I reach back and grab his thigh. I feel his package bum against me.
“Horny?” I purr.
“I don’t even have a word for it. I just am totally obsessed with you. Your thick body, those muscles in your arms. Your butt is – god, I just love your butt. I love your python thighs, your uncut cock, and your big low set of balls…” he runs his hands over me, caressing me as if exploring me for the first time. The hand drifts under my apron and cups me between the legs. I inhale sharply.
“You know what I think it is?”
“Hm?” I ask, distracted, as I stir the pot.
“I think it’s me thinking about what life be like if I hadn’t met you.”
“You?!” I exclaim. “What about me? I’d still be in that tiny little town in Russia, drinking myself to death like my papa did.”
“But you aren’t there,” Jackson says, reassuring me. “You’re here. In Canada. Safe, with me, in my home. I just …jesus, Oskar, I just never imagined I’d be this happy. I sometimes wonder if it’s all a dream.”
“Isn’t that what you imagined when you put up the ad?”
“I was scared to dream I’d be this happy. Honestly, I imagined I’d be taken advantage of for sex and money and abandoned once my new partner got here.”
“But you got me.”
“I almost didn’t,” he corrects, still touching me. It’s making me really hot and bothered. I almost wish I wasn’t so deep into dinner or I would just throw himself at him.
“The agency matched you with that guy, Carlos. He was such a creep. He just wanted a sex toy.”
“Honey, I know, I was there,” I chuckle, not really wanting to think about that right now. Jackson was lost in his thoughts though.
“I was wait listed for you, on this off-chance…I just knew, you were the one. When I got the news he hurt you, oh my god, I almost went to his house and beat the shit out of him!” Jackson growls in my ear, his fingers digging a little deeper into me.
“Honey,” I plead again. “Please…that wasn’t a good time for me. Let’s not talk about Carlos. Put your hand on my cock again.”
“Mmm,” Jackson said, perking up. He wormed his way around to my front again and stroked me under the apron. I sigh. “Did I mention I love that you’re uncut?”
I blush as he tugs on my foreskin. “No.”
“Well I do. Dammit Oskar…I can still remember exactly how I felt, the moment you stepped off the plane at the airport. We had only met during the mixer in Russia the agency set up, but I recognized you immediately.”
I’m quiet for a moment. I move to drain the raviolis in the sink and Jackson trails me, still petting me. It is getting immensely difficult to think. My head is clouded with hormones and lust. I want my man to wrap me in his arms, kissing away any thoughts of the violence I experienced with Carlos. Sometimes I think about damn lucky I am, and I feel nearly sick with relief. The world rarely works out so perfectly. We were two men, seeking love, one looking for escape, the other looking for a taste of the years his diplomatic father stationed them in Moscow. The first time I made Jackson blinchiki – or as they call them here, blintzes – he actually cried.

“Honey?” I moan, my cock now achingly hard. The ravioli are cooling in the strainer.
“Yeah?” he says, distracted.
I say to him, exasperated, “Can we please go have a fuck before dinner? I am so fucking horny!”
Jackson laughs.
I feel a bit wounded. “Did I say something wrong? Is it my English? Did I not say it right?”
“No, I’m sorry love, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing with bliss. Just when I think my life is more perfect, you say the best damn things and remind me that I still have many more amazing years with you.”
“Then let’s get living them,” I insist. I turn around and pull Jackson against me. I push my crotch against his hip. Jackson grabs my ass hard until I shout, then he reaches back and unties my apron. I pull it over my head and toss it on the counter. Our lips meet and collide, desperately drawn here and to. I flick my tongue at him, and it makes Jackson ravenous. Before I know it, he’s reaching for the olive oil and I got my legs around his waist. He pushes me up onto the counter, hisses at me to “hold on”. I grab onto the cabinet. My dick is throbbing and it’s starting to ache.
“Jackson hurry!” I whimper.
He fumbles with the olive oil. One hand is still slippery when he grabs my thighs and pushes into me. I bellow out a moan as he fills me in one push. I stroke myself while he devours my mouth again. Jackson notices me pleasuring myself and pulls away a little to watch. “Yeah, that’s it Oskar, good boy” He snaps his hips like a whip, thrusting his fat cock up inside of me. I push my thighs against him. “Yes! Yes!” I cry, momentarily lost in the satisfaction of getting what I need.

Jackson is slipping on the olive oil on the floor, so he leans against me and uses his hips to fuck me. I arch my back, ignoring the counter digging into my butt.
“More! Harder!” I love these English sex words he taught me. I feel naughty when I use them. Luckily, I use the right ones and Jackson ruts until his chest is heaving with effort. Suddenly, his glans hits my prostate in just the right way and we explode together. I scream and Jackson digs his teeth into my shoulder. I am jerking myself furiously. Cum splatters up on my stomach and coats where we’re joined. I groan as I feel Jackson’s load flood in me.

Our foreheads touch as he catch our breath.
“I needed that,” I say, matter of factly.
“That was a great idea,” Jackson agrees, nibbling my jaw. Our tongues duel for a moment before he slides out. I whimper at the emptiness behind. “Christ look at this mess,” he chuckles, setting me down. “Cum and oil everywhere.”
I grin, flustered and happy. “But that is a good problem to have. You need to change your pants too.”
“What?” Jackson glances down and sees our cum has soaked the front of his jeans. “Oh damn.”
“Why don’t we eat dinner naked in the bathtub?” I offer.
“Dinner, in the bathtub?”
“Well, we won’t have to worry about getting tomato sauce on our clothes.”
“Such a smart husband,” he coos. He kisses me again. I wish he would stop that, because I want more when he does. I had a feeling we weren’t going to be getting any cleaner in that bath, and turns out, I was right. We made an even bigger mess too.

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Text is fictional. Tommy Defendi and Alex Adams. This is from Man Royale. Couldn’t find the video on their website, but it’s called Cookin’ By The Book. Here’s stills. Here’s the video bootlegged and uploaded.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Damien watches from next to the table as yet again his houseboy charms the pants off everyone at the party – and he is the only one not wearing pants! He wonders how on earth Milo got old Dunham Senior to smile. The leading partner in their law firm, Dunham Senior was known for being a grouchy, cranky ol’ coot. Next to him was Dunham Junior and the Misses all laughing and joking as if old friends. Bits of conversation drifted over about Dunham’s shenanigans in his youth.

Damien felt a twinge of irritation. He’d somehow managed to train his houseboy so well that he was outshining him at his own party! What on Earth was protocol for that? He was watching Milo from the corner of the room, wondering how long he was going to stand there. It wasn’t his job to socialize. The cookie platter was running low. Damien glanced around at his guests and two drinks that could use a refill. He was just about to stroll over to his houseboy to put him in his place, but the conversation the group was having was dissolving. He saw Milo gesture to Dunham Senior’s glass; the man put up a hand to reject the offer of another one. Milo nodded and smiled, then touched his elbow and excused himself.

Milo made a dash to the kitchen and returned with a serving plate of champagne flutes, and made a quick lap of the room to make sure all the guests were hydrated. He then swung by the dessert tray to make sure it was full. Damien caught his eye. Milo came over and kissed him on his cheek. “This has been a delightful evening, Sir.”
“Yes, it has,” Damien said flatly, truthfully a bit bored of these necessary social functions. They made Milo happy, so he suffered for him. Milo kissed him again, and then darted off.
Damien sipped his drink and thought about how far Milo had come since his first party, when he was nervous, stressed out, still not used to be nude; plus, he had been leaking everywhere in an ill fitting chastity device. That had been Damien’s mistake, and he knew it. The length was not an issue for any chastity device, but the girth, that had been the problem.

Damien felt someone staring at him. He glanced around and spotted Dunham Senior looking his way. He nodded and walked over.
“Mr. Dunham, I take it my houseboy wasn’t talking your ear of was he?”
Mr. Dunham chuckled, a low throaty noise. “No, not at all. He was a pleasure! He’s such a youthful boy.”
Damien exhaled a little sigh of relief. “That he is. Parties make him excited.”
“He seems very comfortable in his own skin, that one.”
“That took some time,” I say. “Society taught him to be ashamed of his body.”
Dunham Senior made a pshaw noise. “If had a body like that, I wouldn’t wear clothes at all!” Damien tried not to make a face at picturing his boss naked. Luckily, he didn’t notice and went on. “I must say though, he is very well endowed, what a lucky thing. Is that why he wasn’t locked?
"That he is.”
“I’ve never seen a houseboy that wasn’t locked.”
“Indeed. I can’t lock him, though, anything we found cut off circulation. Milo doesn’t need it though, he is obedient. I think it adds to his beauty though. A male body is an art form, so as such, he is a bit of living art in my life.”
Dunham Senior clapped me on the shoulder. “Yes yes! Exactly. They must understand that. You know, I was thinking of getting a housepet for my son and my new daughter-in-law as a belated wedding present. They want to start a family, and they both work, so I think it would be ideal.”
“I would be pleased to provide some direction on that matter.”
“Fantastic, fantastic.” Dunham Senior was momentarily distracted by the frontal view of Milo as he returned from the kitchen with another round of cookies for the dessert tray. “If I were only 50 years younger, what I would do to him…”

Damien did make a face that time and pretended he didn’t hear that. Still, he felt a bit smug that he got to have Milo when no one else did. Milo tended to take control at these parties, so by the time it was over, Damien always felt a mighty itch to remind him where he stood in this household. He had a feeling the sex tonight was going to be particularly vigorous.

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

There are a lot of rooms in this old, fine house, but I have a favorite. You’d probably assume it would be my Master’s bedroom because of all it implies. His bed is where he sleeps, and when on rare occasions, I am allowed to join him – a highly desired reward. His bed is where he uses me when he is horny, and makes love to me when he is drunk. It’s where he ties me down, and experiments on me with ropes and toys until I am a heaving, horny mess. It’s where he chooses to milk me once a month. In that room is all the pleasure I could hope for, and the most delicious denial I could imagine. It’s a room of potential, tastefully decorated even with Saint Andrew’s cross in the corner.

However, saying that’s my favorite room is kind of a cop-out. Of course it is. That’s like saying the kitchen is your favorite room because there’s food in it. Of course you like to eat, we all have to eat. Sex and release is just as necessary. So if you remove the secondary functions from the rooms in the house, and take them as they are?

The library is – hands down – my favorite room. It’s one of the oldest rooms as it’s in the original wing of the house. It has that comfortable, wooly, scent of old wood board and wallpaper paste. When it’s warm, the smell of books is overwhelming. There’s thousands of them, lining shelves up to the ceiling. The oldest books that belonged to my Master’s great, great grandparents are here, kept in a special temperature controlled case. Most of the books in here don’t have much value though, and so they can put out in the open.

I never really finish my chores, I just have breaks between doing things on the never-ending list of cleaning and assisting the cook and organizing my Master’s life. Yet, in my rare moments to myself, I am allowed to come here. The carpet is flat and worn, but it is still soft. There’s a big window that lets in all the afternoon sun, and I like to sit under the sill and read or browse. There’s lots of interesting things in here. Encyclopedias. Classics. National Geographics. Fiction from library sales, both adventure novels and crime novels. Heavy, coffee-table style photo collections. Even pornographic stories, that leave me frustrated and sighing. A book for every mood. When the day is too nice to ignore, sometimes I’ll take a book and go for a walk in the garden.

I am not allowed to masturbate, and have not been able to for some time due to the beautiful metal piece around my cock, but I am grateful I do not have the temptation. I would feel guilty feeling, as I would be squandering my time on empty self-satisfaction, all while knowing that I am ignoring this chamber of knowledge just one floor away. I think being denied access to my Master’s library would be a rather formidable punishment.
I know my Master likes that I read his books; he believes that even a houseboy should be educated. Every time we have a debate over a current topic or a book plot, it ends up with him getting flustered and then I’m told to bend over and assume position two. Then I hear his pants unzip. He’s a bit of an odd duck, my Master, but I love him just the same.

I am also grateful there’s a clock in this library, or else I would lose all track of time and neglect my chores. Although, there is one chore I get to do while reading. It’s not an official chore, but it’s more of one I assign myself. My Master hasn’t read most of the books in his collection, and he receives many more as gifts over the holidays, so when I’m up here, I often look for one I think he’ll like. I’ll leave it on his nightstand later. Even during time to myself, I always think of my Master first. It is because he is dear to me, and he has given me literacy, the greatest gift a houseboy could hope for besides a collar and His last name.

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“I’m going to the gym, boy. I want dinner cooking when I get back.”
“Yes sir.”
“Use lots of butter on the potatoes, and make sure not to put in any cilantro onto the roast because Tom hates that stuff.”
“Yes sir.”
“And don’t you dare burn the meat, it was an expensive cut.”
“Yes sir.”
“Glad you don’t have a hearing problem. Oh and wear your plug, I’m gonna be horny when I get back. I expect Josh will want to fuck you too.”
“Yes sir.”
“Glad we’re on the same page. Bye, fag!”

I wait until he goes before letting out the sigh. Bruce is the most aggressive alpha of the group and he makes me nervous. He’s a spoiled rich kid. When he gets angry, he gets rough, so I try not to upset him much. I don’t want to upset anyone or ruin my situation. All through high school I wanted to join a frat in college, but it was just too much for my parents to afford. I could barely afford tuition! Luckily, I was able to talk to the fraternity organizer and he helped me find a house that was willing to work with me. I wasn’t a pledge, I was something better. Still, they had some strange rules – I was not allowed to wear clothing. I had to do the cooking, and the cleaning, on top of my homework. 
It was a lot of hard work, but the pay off was great though. I got to live here for free, earn a monthly stipend, and mingle with the sons of wealthy families. This, in theory, would help me get a job in finance after I graduated.

Tom was one of the quieter boys here. A literature major. He was the first one I offered sexual services too, and soon others began to ask about blowjobs and handjobs. It quickly escalated to sex. I was nervous for a while, but they were all pretty gentle with me. Felt pretty good actually knowing I was appealing that way. However, nothing went on in this frat that Bruce didn’t know about it, and Bruce wasted no time in claiming my ass too. He just left me sore, but I put up with him anyway. He had a small, crooked dick. No doubt couldn’t satisfy his girlfriend at all. Might be why he was always so cranky.

I pulled some ingredients out of the fridge, thinking about sex. Josh had a nice cock though. I wouldn’t mind if he came home before Bruce and fucked me. He always liked my cooking too. I turned on the oven and opened the butcher paper wrapped around the meat. It was nice to serve these men here. I think more than any of my classes, it’s training me for work in a corporate environment where there’s always something higher ranked than you. I wasn’t content being on the bottom though. I was going to the boss of one of these boys one day. I just hoped it was Bruce. I smirked. I could just see it now, the look on his face, when he found out a submissive was going to be his boss. Ha!

Wait, was I forgetting something? Oh yeah, gotta put in my plug before I start.

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Text is fictional. This is Brady Jensen and Lance Alexander.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

chastityliving:

analslave83:

What’s best for me? Locked or unlocked?

Locked. The cage not only is a nice decoration on your nude figure, but it centers your cock and draws attention to right between your legs. Even if you do or don’t have a keymaster, staying locked shows discipline and interest in preserving yourself for future interactions with your partner. It’s the fastest way to convince a man you are horny and are invested in a fun evening. And if you don’t have a man in your life, most boys do benefit from cutting back on masturbation. Also once you’re horny, you’ll feel sexier and want to project it more, upping your self-confidence. Win/win situation.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house; not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse….or your cock for example, because I locked it up. In its plastic cage you can see how cute and small it is compared to mine, which is allowed to go free and get hard when it wants. Your little inferior one is where it’s belongs because it’s too distracting for you. Just a little bit of flesh there, but you could not stop playing messing with it…

Aw, you better not pout. You better not cry. You’ve been such a good boy this year, and I’ll tell you why. You’ve pleased me so much this year, satisfied me so many times when I needed a boy the most… I’m sure Santa is going to be bring you lots of presents this year. I know your wish list is long. He might even bring you an orgasm. You don’t want Santa to peer through your window and see you jacking off do you? He’s going to think if you just want those boring kinds of orgasms and cannot control yourself, then he won’t need to bring you all those fun toys in his bag…

I know, it’s difficult. Why not come play with my cock and whittle away the time? Christmas morning is still a day away.

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Text is fictional. Borrowed some lines from "Twas the Night Before Christmas” and “Santa Claus is coming to town”.

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by ccallenreese

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.