Tag: male nudity

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by ccallenreese

When I came home, I originally thought I had walked into the wrong house. It sure looked like my house, but it was amazingly clean. The hardwood floors gleamed. The clutter was gone. Dust had been whisked away from the blinds and baseboard moulding. I walked through the house in a bit of a daze, like I was experiencing a show room instead of real life. The kitchen looked brand new; even the fridge had been purged, sterilized, and re-organized. As I wandered from room to room, I expected Gideon to pop out and want a hug from me, but the first floor was devoid of life. Well, human life, my tarantula in its terrarium was very much alive.

“Gideon…?” I whispered, shucking off my shoes before I ascended the stairs. Silence. I noticed the steps and the carpet at the top had been vacuumed. Good lord, he’d been busy!

I found my beloved boyfriend curled up asleep in my bed. Judging by the state of the bed, he was in the process of putting fresh sheets on the mattress when he curled up for a moment and just fell asleep. Poor thing, he was all tuckered out. We went skiing yesterday and then were up late edging and having sex – how he managed this much energy was a mystery. I worked in an office and today was draining for me even me.

I stood by the bed and watched him sleep, enamored by how precious he looked. He was entirely naked, which was all the more appealing. Recently Gideon had been expressing interest in sort of an alternative lifestyle in where the levels of equality are altered. I thought it was passing fetish, some kink he got into his head after finding some particular Tumblr blog or something… but the more I involved Gideon into my life, the more he seemed to fall into this role anyway. I see now that maybe it’s just naturally how he is. He wants to serve me. I lean over and kiss his forehead, but he’s so unconscious he doesn’t even stir. I cover him with blanket because he looks cold.

We’ll have to talk about this more in the morning. A Master/slave relationship might be too much for me, but a dom/sub or adult discipline relationship is definitely possible. A collar would look so pretty around his neck…and his ass would be a sight all pink if he misbehaved… plus, I could get used to the house like this.

I went back downstairs to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat and found a previously missed note about lasagna warning in the oven. He made lasagna? That’s it, I’m keeping him, and he’s getting a big reward in the morning.

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Post is fictional.

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by ccallenreese

“So that was his neck, let’s see about the arms now… wow, 55 inches from shoulder to finger tip,” the doctor calls out to his assistant who jots it in the slave’s dossier. “Damn, this boy has some really long arms. He’s either headed for the orchards or to be tied to a king sized bed. Check these boxes Reginald – ‘long limbs’ and ‘might require oversized furnishing’.” Reginald did so, then patiently waited for the doctor to measure out the numbers for his waist, cock, and leg length. Having already been photographed for the catalog, the new slave was then sent on to be shaved, fitted with a cock cage and collar, and put back in the stable until evening exercise and dinner.

Long after he went home for the evening Reginald couldn’t stop thinking about that boy with the long arms, how graceful and beautiful and strong he was. Very obedient, patient. After working in this job for two years, the visual of naked men wasn’t instantly arousing as it used to be for Reginald. He was a small man though, and often fantasized about being taken advantage of by a bigger, stronger slave who had rebelled. Not that he’d tell ever anyone, of course, but the idea of being held down and jacked off by those long lean arms stayed with him for weeks.

If he saved up he could have purchased a slave like that in a couple months time, but he resided in a simple apartment in the city square. A tall, long-limbed slave was meant for Masters with land and space. Reginald was content with this. He liked to see the new meat go to good homes. In time, new boys would be paraded through the doctor’s office, and Reginald’s fantasies would have new fuel.

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by ccallenreese

It’s important to keep your slaves clean. If they’re in chastity, it’s a good idea to remove the cage once in a while and completely scrub them from head to toe. Shaving is optional. This is also a good time to inspect your property for any acne, ingrown hairs, odd looking moles, or ingrown nails.
For a fun evening, invite a friend and his slave over as well for a group shower. Things will get steamy fast!

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by ccallenreese

Damn, this was a good idea. Why throw a housewarming party when you can throw a pool party? Smart of me to only advertise to the local gay population too since we’ve been having that heatwave… oh, look at those beautiful twinks over there, kissing, all shamelessly erect and touching each other…I might have to hire them as pool boys. That’s a good idea too. Where is my tanning oil? I need to jack off to this.

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Post is fictional. Boys are Vadim Farrell & Jean-Daniel Chagall I think.

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by ccallenreese

porno-graph:

     You’ve suspected for a long time that Eddie and Rich were more than friends, by the way they look at each other, the laughter behind a locked door. Now, one day, you come home to find them caught by your sneaking footsteps in a naked embrace. In no acid trip could you imagine how hot and dirty they would look, their flesh pressed together, lips in a kiss. Small differences in the size of certain muscles, tans, and body hair—makes them individual, but sculptural at the same time. You feel no jealousy, only raging hormones, until they kiss again and exchange their love in words. Silently, you slide out the door. You come back slowly and loudly, finding them clothed and far apart on the couch—but breathless.

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by ccallenreese

He hired me to shoot commemorative photos of his graduation from the The New England Conservatory in Boston. He said he wanted at least one picture of him with his violin where he didn’t look exhausted. I asked why he selected me because although I’m a portrait photographer, I normally do artistic nudes, bathing suits, homo-erotic, and other fashion related gigs. He said he liked that my subjects looked “real”. I had no idea what that meant, but I accepted it as a compliment anyway.  

Shooting a violinist was a fresh challenge though. Violins are only held one way – under the chin to one side, so there’s really two poses: that one, and clutching the violin in their arms. So boring. We shot at least 300 pictures in those poses and nothing was gelling. My client began to look restless. I sensed he was considering if it was too late to ask for a refund. Running dry on ideas, I decided to resort to what I know best – the human body.

“Why don’t you take off your clothes?" I suggested, then had to supress a laughing after I saw the expression on his face.
"Are you serious…?” he gaped.
“Yes, absolutely, I shoot artistic nudes, not class pictures. You told me you work out at the gym so your arms are nice and muscular – the lighting right now is perfect, nice and soft, we don’t have to even adjust anything. I think it’d work better than the sweater you’re wearing. It doesn’t make good shadows.”
I could nearly hear the gears in his head. “I’m…I can’t show this to my mother…”
“Well, we took a million photos of you looking quaint in a sweater with the violin, send her one of those. I’ll give you a deep discount on the rights to this picture.” He was still thinking, so I decided to close the deal. “Besides, the violin doesn’t play itself right? It’s just wood and rosin and …stuff… You’re the genius here. I was hired to photograph a violinist wasn’t I?”

A sly grin spread over his jaw. “Persistent aren’t you? You make a point. Alright. I’ll do it. But if these get out on the internet…”
I scoffed, “And ruin my reputation? No thanks.”
He set down the precious, expensive violin in its case then methodically undressed as if he was at the gym. I provided a chair out of frame for his clothes. When his underwear slid off, I tried not to gasp. or stare. or ogle. Well, look at it, really. He had a much bigger penis than I would have guessed, one of the biggest I’d ever seen on a man. I am glad he couldn’t see me blushing behind the camera. 

He muttered something about being happy to get rid of the sweater as the lights were making him hot as he picked up his violin again. Initially, he was shy and tried to cover his crotch with his instrument.

“No no no, that’s…that’s gross. Seriously, your violin isn’t sexual like that. Raise it up, above your head, high! High yes! Drop your elbow. Other elbow.” I set the shutter off in such rapid fire succession that it sounded like I was emptying a magazine clip. “Shift your weight to one hip…god, beautiful!” My inspiration went through the roof; suddenly I was excited and invigorated and barking out lots of new directional cues until he slid into just the right jaunty pose and I knew we had a winner.

I told him to relax a moment and popped the card into my computer to check. While glancing at them in thumbnail mode, I noticed an obvious different from the first and last picture as his cock had began to lift from between his legs. He was getting hard under the attention. It was impossible not to be aroused by this. Stupid day to not wear underwear. Oh man..then it saw it. THE picture. His eyes were closed by accident, but it was meant to be. 

When I came out of my office, he was playing a pretty little melody.
“We did it,” I announced, “I got the best photo of you…wanna come see it?”
“Sure!” he didn’t seem to mind his nudity anymore and jogged over to my computer. I showed him it and he turned red all over. “Wow… my cock looks huge in this…”

I laughed, “I think it looks artistic. You have a really gorgeous body. I mean…as a gay man myself, I’m a little jealous.”
“You’re…gay?”
“…What, it’s not obvious?”
He waved his hand at me. “I have terrible gaydar, anyone will tell you,” then went back to concentrating on the photo, “I really like the look on my face. My hair looks cool.”
“Yes yes,” I agreed eagerly, “I also like how the violin is half out of frame. It’s not the focus of the shot anymore. You are.”
“Yes. I …I really love it. It’s going to take some getting used to, seeing myself nude but… you really captured how I feel when I play. When I watch videos of my performances, it looks like that.”

I wondered how he looked when he was orgasming. Ugh my brain was not behaving itself. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Well, I think we’re done for today. You can get dressed now…if you want.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “If I want…?”
Color rose to my face. “I um. Er. Sorry, that just slipped out. Sorry. Not professional.”
He sat on the edge of my desk, “You want to touch my cock don’t you?”
“You’re my client, that is not how I do business!” I stammered.
“Oh come on, I saw your eyebrows go up when I took off my pants. I know a reaction to a big cock when I see one. Come on, I’m really happy with your work…take a tip. Literally." 

When I didn’t say no, he got up and shut the door trapping us both inside the office. I’m so glad he made that decision for me, I couldn’t wait to stroke it, pet it, arouse him – of course, I had to take pictures of him in heat. Needless to say, he got batches of erotic photos for free. Also, I learned a valuable lesson that day in cleaning cum off my camera lenses. 

From then onward, anytime he needed photos taken he’d call me. Afterwards, we’d always go into my office to review the photos, always with the door closed. It went on this way until he called me one day, asking to shoot his engagement photos. I made them do nudes too.

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Post is fictional. Model is the interestingly named Czyz Otto. Watermark has been photoshopped out; the photographer is the super talented Tom Silk. Lotta beautiful dick in his portfolio.

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by ccallenreese

How humiliating to be kept only locked and naked, but put in mitts as well as if to say he doesn’t have any decorum at all in keeping his hands off himself. Maybe this is why he’s allowed to keep his hair, a small gesture to humor him, to give the illusion that he’s still a grown man in control of his own body. However, if you look at his other pictures of him in a collar and diapers you can tell he is happiest when he is helpless and has to rely on someone else’s care and whims. That lock is metal after all….doubt it’s coming off for a long while. The hair will go eventually, along with the rest of his old identity.