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His balls were soft and squishy like pink marshmallows warm from being close to a fire. His ass felt like silk wrapped over two loaves of leavened bread dough – round and risen, puffy and thick. Every inch of Sacha was as virgin and innocent as fresh snow; even his nipples colored his chest like new rosebuds in spring. Kelley was enamored by his ethereal face and wisps of blond hair. He was best displayed on white shag and feather mattresses, ass up, his chubby cock tucked under him. It was too much to take in his seductive form at once. Kelley found it most erotic to simply caress the boy, gently ghosting his fingers over the most intimate curves and swells until Sacha was thoroughly hot and bothered and his balls were swollen as choux pastries fresh out of the oven. Then, Kelley would coax out the boy’s raspberry red erection from under him and watch it drip white pearls.

At times, sexing Sacha felt like a violation, like he’d crossed the red rope in front of a fine art piece, or like he had been forced to eat a dessert that had been gorgeously plated. Yet, Kelley always gave in to the temptation. He only had to put a hand anywhere near Sacha’s entrance and it would relax and open to receive Kelley. He’d never directly ask or beg for sex, but the soft mews of need from Sacha told Kelley all he needed to know. Once Kelley slid his cock into the velvet walls to the hilt and nestled it in the confines of the boy’s bottom, the lingering guilt slid away. Kelley would lose himself, become detached from time itself and float away as he rocked and thrust. Sacha needed the stimulus, he needed the release; masturbation was too rough a game for a tender boy as him. He could only empty those plump balls through internal stimulation, of which Kelley was now the sole provider.

It had been like this for almost a year.

Kelley found Sacha at a high-end adult club for gay men. While trying to find the bathroom in the VIP section, he heard a boy crying. He wandered into the “employee only” area and found Sacha crying in a ball on the floor after accidentally having caught his fingers in a closing door. Kelly soothed him and iced his fingers, then inquired as to why he was not on stage with the other boys. He was beautiful enough. Through his tears, Sacha explained that he was too nervous around the customers and became emotional when handled too aggressively; the house mistress had banished him to the dressing rooms to clean up after the more successful performers and to sew shut the holes in the boys’ costumes. Yet, she was still deducting money from his non-existent paychecks for room and board.
Kelley had been furious; he paid the debt and whisked Sacha off to his yacht in the Mediterranean as a gift to his beloved slave and houseboy, Jules. Jules had a lot of chores – especially when tending to the villa Kelley shared with his brother and socialite wife. He was often times, lonely, so Kelley had brought him a pet to keep him company during the day. The boys had become best of friends.

Jules was not a delicate flower. He was the son of Slavic farmers, meaty and substantial. He was a voyeur and terribly slutty. He could take a lot of cock and plenty of strikes from a whip, and he was quite proud of his own endurance. Jules liked leather. He liked humiliation; he liked it rough and sudden. Yet, Jules was delighted by his new pet; he enjoyed spoiling him greatly, sneaking him pastries from the kitchen or washing him by hand in the bath. Sacha’s milk tasted like the sea and they would pass the time together when their Master was away. His Master approved of their play, knowing a chastity cage kept Sacha safe from Jules’s rough lust.

As Master Kelley rode Sacha to his orgasm, he was more convinced than ever heaven existed right here on Earth. Forget collecting fine art or vases or whatever rich people did – he had all he could every want right here in his bed for any mood or whim: one angel and one devil.

Under him, Sacha moaned and his bones trembled as his nervous system overloaded from the sensitive tip rubbing against the sheets. He never dreamed intimacy could feel this wonderful. He loved being full of Master Kelley, to know the Master he worshiped and adored was was fully using his body and exploring all its potential. Master Kelley’s cock never hurt him, it only drove him to sweet madness and divine bliss. Sacha pushed back against the man dividing him and gasped as the blunt tip pushed into his gland. He whimpered, close to peaking. Master Kelley often left him horny and needing, choosing to spill his boy’s seed when he deemed it fit. By the time he reached the exact second of penetration, Sacha was often near delirious with heat.

Just as he felt as if he would burn up from the inside out, Master Kelley pushed him over the edge and the fever broke. Sacha wailed like gale winds and his spine and thighs cramped from holding a tight arch. He gasped and a cascade of his seed gushed out onto the bed. Master Kelley grunted, dripping with sweat; he pulled Sacha’s hips up and held him in place as he delivered a few intense thrusts and spilled. Besides them, Jules moaned and continued to masturbate with a large rubber toy.

Master Kelley dropped his weight onto Sacha and flexed his ass, nudging his cock up as far as he could go as the orgasm crested and began to fade. Sounds of three men panting filled the small bedroom on the yacht. Master Kelley remained buried in Sacha for as long as he could, making sure every tiny little drop of seed was out of his pet. When he withdrew, Sacha cried a little at the loss. Master Kelley instantly swept him into his arms and cuddled him, kissing his cherubic cheeks and rubbing circles onto his hip with his palm.

Once the hormones and emotions dispersed, Sacha was left exhausted and drained and wet. The ache of the loss not so great now, and in truth he was quite happy. Jules however, was angry and frustrated, so Master Kelley took a moment to clean his cock, relubed, and then pounded Jules into the mattress until he triggered an anal orgasm and gave his locked boy some relief. Sacha didn’t mind watching; he found it all fascinating how so much cum could come out of such a trapped little penis. Jules, of course, loved it when Sacha watched. He’d thank him by parting his legs and licking him clean under his Master’s approving gaze.

Afterwards, the three would have a rest, talking and giggling. When it got chilly, there would be a hot bath together, with sparkling water and finger foods. Master Kelley would normally pinch himself at least once to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Then he would draw the bath and the yacht named Paradise would sail off in the night toward the Almafi Coast.

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Text is fictional. One source says the name of this owner’s ass is Brandon from Sean Cody but he’s in too many videos to pin down a specific one. Goddamn, that ass though.

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brosgivemeboners:

he gets so horny knowing his big bro is sleeping above him

Zeke sighed and turned over his pillow, trying to get comfortable. It’s difficult to fall asleep with your foster brother masturbating underneath you. Only two more weeks until you move out for college, he reminded himself. Poor Norman. His foster brother had such a crush on him. Norman was so shy around Zeke, always plucking at his pants and then awkwardly making excuses to leave.

Late at night when he thought Zeke was asleep, Norman would lie awake and masturbate furiously – the only time he could get some alone time in their packed foster family’s house. He imagined that Zeke wasn’t sleeping above him, but on him, stroking his aching cock and telling him how huge it was, how sexy he looked. He imagined Zeke’s hips meeting his, about how their slick organs would rub together until they both spurted hard. After he came into a tissue, Norman would pet himself and ponder if he preferred to be a top or a bottom, what it would feel like to take a cock, or put one in another guy. Mostly, he thought about these scenarios with Zeke in them.

Norman didn’t know this, but Zeke had an inkling of what went on in that boy’s fertile imagination. He sighed again. The boy had an incredible refractory period and wasn’t stopping. He was going to be late for work tomorrow from oversleeping at this rate. Zeke thought, and decided to give Norman a little going away present.

Norman froze mid-stroke as he saw Zeke’s arm drop over the side of the bed. He barely dared to breathe, thinking he’d been caught. Being caught was a nightmare scenario. He squinted in the dark and realized that Zeke was holding something in his hands. It couldn’t be…?

Norman reached out and took it. Once his fingers touched the warm cotton, he knew exactly what it was. Emotions swirled – apparently he hadn’t been so secretive as he thought but this… Norman’s balls began to swell full of fresh seed.

Zeke muttered from above him: “I know. Say anything about this, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Just hurry up and finish, I got work in the morning.”

Norman blushed crimson. Shit. Well, it was a gift from god and he wasn’t going to question it horned out of his mind. He pushed the warm crotch to his face and sniffed. His cock nearly burst, full of fresh blood. He began a third round of masturbation, suppressing his gasps and moans into the fabric. The bed was shaking, jerking, and Zeke was honestly trying not to laugh. It was kind of hilarious.

He heard Norman grunting and gasping along with the sounds of flesh smacking and his body disturbing the sheets – and Zeke coulda sworn he heard the splash of cum on his torso. Then, it stopped. Norman exhaled a loud sigh of contentment, plus a single “goddamn”, and after the rustling of tissues fell away, it was quiet. Pure quiet.

Zeke smirked in the dark, pleased with himself, then rolled over to fall asleep. The next two weeks were going to be awkward but it was going to be worth it just for a good night’s rest.

He never did get his underwear back.

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Text is fictional. I think the source is here.

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“This is my cock. It is mine. You may kiss me, you may touch me, but you cannot touch this. I own this big beautiful cock and the fat peach below. You have been slutting it up with every man in this club, desperate to find someone to tend it every night. Your cock and balls are obviously too much for you to handle. I will be controlling this and milking it when I deem fit from now on. You don’t have a say in this, because you don’t know better. You’re just a beta. You will be happier by surrendering it to me, so I’m making that choice for you. What is this? A drip already? I think you need a date with the handcuffs and the e-stim machine. We need to clear out your pipes before I lock you up.”

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Text is fictional.

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gayboykink:

Gooooodmorning fellow kinksters.
Today I’ll be unlocked without bf’s supervision because of some sport matches and social activities. I should not forget to get back in chastity before bf comes back tomorrow morning or my ass will be in big trouble.
And no touching in the meantime of course…

Laid out like a banquet on a bed of satin. And yes, no touching. Don’t want to spoil the big reward now do we?

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youthfuldominance:

giftedmaster:

The puppy had to wear the Collar of Shame, an artifact left over from one of the guests of My kinky Truth and Dare parties. This was a punishment for throwing up over My cock when I was skull fucking him. 

He’s an enthusiastic if not particularly skilful cocksucker. He got better with instruction. Of course. 

Awww. Poor pup. The Cone of Shame. 

Oh dear. A little humiliation is good for this pup, although I can almost hear him whimpering from here.

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When Billy came into the door, I saw in his face that something had upset him. His shoulders and posture were sagging and his eyes were red.
“Honey what’s wrong?” I put down my newspaper.
“James, some mean boys bullied me on the way to the train station.”
“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry.” I stood up and pulled him into a hug. Billy clung to me, pressing his lithe body up against my more substantial one. I removed his stylish hat and tossed it into the sofa. Underneath his cardigan, I could feel him trembling. “They called me a faggot, and said I looked like a queer, I should get hit by a train.”
I tensed and released a slow breath, seething. “I’m going to pick you up from work tomorrow, and you’re gonna start carrying mace. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“They scared me,” Billy admitted, his voice cracking.
“Ssh shh…I won’t let them lay a finger on you. They don’t deserve you.”

I sensed the hug wasn’t reaching him. “Here, I think this will help.” I gently pried Billy off, and began to remove my clothes. He watched me, curious, and did not protest when I helped him peel off his sweater and began to work the buttons on his shirt. It wasn’t sexual, we just casually removed our clothing piece by piece until it was in a pile on the sofa next to the hat. I wrapped my arms around him again and Billy eagerly reciprocated, pushing himself close against me to get his slim arms around my barrel torso. I felt fingers dig into my buttocks and his small member press against my thigh.

I held and rocked him, uttering soothing words. Billy hiccuped and spilled a few tears, dispersing them by nuzzling my shoulder. I was hoping that skin to skin contact would help calm him. Billy was a small man, and I wanted to be his big, strong rock. As long as I was around, he should feel safe and secure and grounded. After a few minutes of bonding, the trembling faded, his breathing slowed. I kissed the top of his head and he snuggled against the pelt of hair on my chest.

Billy worked at an art gallery downtown. I’d gone there to buy a piece for my living room and ended up leaving with a painting and his phone number. He was intimidated by me at first, but soon realized he got a rush out of being dominated and overpowered in the bedroom. It had taken some practice for him to accept a cock of my size. I in turn, became madly aroused at seeing it disappear into his small arse. I felt that would come later; sex would help him sleep the night. He wasn’t even hard now.

“Are you alright?” I asked, gently.
“Mmnnnn,” he replied back. “I like feeling all of you against me, and the sound of your heart beating. It was all fast before, but it’s slow now.”
“Because those men made me angry. Just – how dare they! What business of theirs is it who you are?”
“I think they’re scared of me,” Billy said.
“Scared?” I repeated.
“Yes… they’re scared that I walk with my head up and am not afraid to be who I am. They don’t understand it, they don’t understand me. They certainly don’t appreciate my excellent fashion sense either. So, they get scared and try to mask it by being mean.”
“Hm. In a way I guess that makes sense. We’ll have to confront of them sometime though.”
Billy sighed. “I don’t want to think about this anymore. I want to think about my naked boyfriend.”
I chuckle. “That is a good thought to be having.”
“Can I cook you dinner like this? Naked?”
“Naked?” I raised an eyebrow. “Well I can’t guarantee you won’t make it to dinner without me getting my hands on you.”
Billy looked up at me with a cheeky little smile on his face. “Well, we’ll see how long you last.”

I raise an eyebrow and squeeze his butt before he slips away, scampering off to the fridge with his cock bouncing between his legs. I mourn the loss of his body heat immediately, but I am mostly relieved that my Billy has recovered. The cruelty of the world outside the walls of our home can wait to be dealt with another day. I watch Billy bend over to peer into the fridge. I sigh. It’s ridiculous how much I am in love with him.

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Text is fictional. Source unknown.

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I step into the library to return my completed book and replace it with a new one for my beach-side reading. I hear a sigh and walk toward the back of the crisp, modern styled library, seeking the owner of the sound. I find the houseboy back there, glancing forlornly out the window. He doesn’t notice me at first; my leather soled shoes make little noise on the floor. The natural sunlight illuminates his skin, basking his attractive form in a healthy glow. He is a sight – a slender neck emerging from the sharp lines of his collar bone, gently rolling pecs float above the valley of his lined abs. His skin is so taut, his health and vigor so evident, that there is hardly an ounce of fat on him from hard work and I can see grand veins running under his flesh.

His balls are generous and full, and his cock is soft and hidden but the perfect length for his form. He’s as if a painting come to life. I make the usual noises of putting a book away and he twists his head to look at me. He seems a bit surprised to see me. 

“Are you waiting for your Master to return, lad?”
“Yes sir,” he says, his voice wistful. “I miss him.”
“He shall return from visiting his sister within the hour, do not fret.”
The houseboy nods, but not satisfied. “I hope you have enjoyed your stay here, Sir, and weren’t inconvenienced by his sudden departure two days ago.”
“How could I not enjoy my stay here? I got a week off from that stuffy law office to stay with an old, dear friend at his manor by the beach and be attended to by the most beautiful nude boys. There is nary an inconvenience there. Babies come when they want to come, it isn’t your Master’s fault your sister delivered this weekend.”

The houseboy looks a bit relieved. “Thank you Sir for saying so. Yes, the baby was due last week, but they don’t mind anyone’s schedule but their own.”
“Indeed.” I rifle through the bookcases. “Oh Yukio Mishima…an eccentric, but a great author.” I select The Sound of the Sea and flip through it. When I glance up, I see the houseboy has returned to staring out the window once more.

“Lad,” I say gently, “Perhaps you need a distraction? Come to the beach with me.”
“I …” he begins. “I would like to, but if I am not here to greet my Master upon his return he will be cross with me.”
“Mm, well perhaps we can go there after lunch. Would you like me to suck you? Perhaps it’ll help you relax?”
The boy thought a moment. “Master said I am to please his guest while he is gone. It would please you?”
“Yes, you in any fashion would.”
The houseboy lowers his gaze to the bulge in my trousers, then to the floor. “My Master will also been in need of proper release after two days away too Sir, and I want to offer him a hole that has not been spoiled in his absence.”
“Then just a suck then,” I say with a reassuring smile. The houseboy looks content with our compromise.

The boy turns around and put his palms on the windowsill. I set my book on a shelf and kneel between his legs. His cock is soft, but warm and clean-scented. I take him between my lips – a perfect mouthful – and he gasps softly at the sensation of my tongue on him. I make a suction lock and bob my head, encouraging it to stiffen. Through my lips, I feel the throb of his awakened veins as blood rushes to his sex organs. I cup his pouch below and roll them between my fingers. His cock swells, filling my mouth from cheek to cheek and challenging my jaw.

The pink knob soon pushes out of his foreskin and strains, dripping seed against my tongue. Each little taste of the houseboy’s salty fluid makes my own cock ache in my trousers. I reach down with one hand to massage it until I fear I will spend in my pants; I unbutton myself and let the erect thing spring up into the air. I moan and began to stroke myself as I nurse the houseboy’s upright cock. His lids are half-closed, his lower lip quivers. The houseboy’s testicles are full and low. He is in much need of a proper fuck, but that is not part of my role as a guest in this house. I wonder if I would be allowed to watch that.

I sense his body spasming and the boy whimpers. “I feel I will cum soon, you are too skilled with your tongue!”
I answer him by pushing the tip of it into the slit and swirling it about; the houseboy’s knees buckle and I catch him by pushing upwards on his shins. He regains his posture and tosses back his head. I suck deeply and quickly, one hand on myself, the other making a circular path with my fingertips around his shaft, down to his balls, then back around to stroke any skin I can find.

The houseboy keens and his thighs tense; he cries out an ‘Oh sweet fuck!“ and his balls hitch high. I consume all his seed, feasting on his modest cock as he shoots against my throat. He is pent up. I do not fuss that I have spoiled his appetite for when his Master calls; in fact, I am even more sure now that I have taken off the edge and so he will be virile and patient for longer service when taken into bed.

When his organ begins to soften, I suckle and clean it with patience. It is no chore, and it would be disrespectful to leave another man’s property sullied. As he vocalizes and twitches in my grip, I dedicate a moment to pump my own aching organ. The climax swells over me in an instant and my hot seed splashes on the floor and on the house boy’s feet. I groan around his organ, lost in the pinnacle of masturbation. He grows too sensitive and begins to squirm; I nuzzle his balls and tug on myself, allowing the afterglow to settle and evaporate. There is no sound but for the houseboy’s soft panting.

After a moment, I pull away from the houseboy completely. I can almost see the the tension and anticipation melt off his shoulders. I leave my flaccid cock out, then signal for "one moment” before leaving the library to find a bathroom. When I return with a damp cloth, I find the houseboy perched halfway on the windowsill, head titled back against the window glass. His eyes are closed. When he hears my footfalls, he opens his eyes.

He motions to take the cloth away from me, but I give him a “tut” and hold it out of reach. This is my fun. I wrap his genitals in the warm terry cloth and clean them. He seems to enjoy this as much as I do. After I clean my own, I fold the towel anew and gently wipe his feet. It is a bit scandalous to be cleaning a houseboy’s feet, but I find the act a bit erotic. After the task is done, I give him a little kiss, tuck my book under my arm, and hold the towel at a distance. “Thank you for the suck, boy. You are most enjoyable. I hope to see you on the beach later.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hartman. It was immensely pleasurable.” He is still flushed. I must walk away or I will lose my will to resist fucking him. I nod, but as I turn away, the houseboy makes a sharp turn toward the window.

“It’s him! My Master is home! Oh I must go greet him at once. Thank you Mr. Hartman, the distraction did the trick. Please excuse me." 
I nod, dismissing him.
He flashes me a happy smile and jogs off, and I’m momentarily struck still by his bliss. It’s always wonderful and heart-warming to see a boy in service so enamored with his keeper.

I do not bother them. I return to my room and pick up my bag, then go to the beach a short walk from the manor. I lay out a towel and enjoy my book. About an hour later, Master Dunn and his houseboy come and join me, carrying a picnic basket and pale ale. The houseboy has fresh lovebites and there are red marks on his hips. I’m sure if I parted the globes of his ass, I would find a hole pink and wet and open from being fucked. The ocean will wash him clean. 

We dine and snack. Master Dunn discusses in length his new nephew and his status as an uncle. The topic soon changes to more domestic matters. We tidy up the spread and prepare for a swim. Just as I am removing my clothes, Master Dunn speaks up. "Glen, I have an inquiry for you.”
“Yes?” I ask.
“After dinner tonight, would you be interested in coming to my room? My houseboy says you were a wonderful companion while I was gone, and I feel as if I must reward you. I hate to know my boy is lonely. You must join us, or at least watch as I take him. It would be rude other wise.”
Glen felt a stir in his loins. “I did not do anything unique, but make sure the houseboy had a guest to serve and work to do. He is a fine boy and so easy on the eyes. I would hate to insert my horny self between your intimate relationship, but I will certainty watch. Not often does one receive an invitation to watch a houseboy writhe under his Master. I would find it to be most exciting.”
A dark look of lust and satisfaction shows on Master Dunn’s face. “Oh, he excites me a good deal.”
The houseboy blushes.
Master Dunn clears his throat and reveals a bit of a smirk. “That will be for later, though. I must take a swim first or my cock will harden even more.”
I grin. “Oh, I do feel the same way. I want to save my seed for when I can watch. I want to last for hours.”

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Text is fictional. Model is Dominick Juneau, photographed by Adam Webster.

===delete below if reblogging====

I hadn’t meant to post this when I did – I never post between 4-5 am PST. However, somehow when I went to reblog this hours ago, I somehow managed to highlight a different frame and the reblog button was inaccessible. I was dicking around with deselect keyboard shortcuts and it magically reblogged! It took me seven hours to fix this, so yaaaay. I was reading this rather bizarrely-worded collection of Victorian-themed short stories involving gay sex, and they inspired this. Nice that it got saved.