Tag: muscular

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

torontopup:

www.recon.com/torontoslave

Joey knocked.
“Come in,” said a burly voice.
“Thank you Sir,” Joey replied. He entered the room, filled Darren’s glass with fresh filtered water, which was just a centimeter from being empty.
“Thank you much boy. Very thoughtful.”
“Of course Sir. May I bring you a snack or anything?“
“No thank you, boy. I’ll be eating a banana and having a protein shake before the gym later, so I’ll do that then.”
“Of course. How are your stocks Sir?”
“Looking good,” Darren said with a smile. “But I’d rather look at you. You are shaping up beautifully, boy.”
Joey turned pink. “Thank you Sir. I feel very inadequate next to you, but it’s…inspirational.”
“Aw. That’s kind of you to say so boy. One day you’ll be able to out bench me. One day.”
Joey raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Not in this life!”
“Oh you will,” Darren said, slapping Joey’s solid ass.
“Oh!”
Darren moved his hand up Joey’s thigh, admiring the taut muscle under neath. His hand slid upwards to brush over Joey’s bulge before letting it fall away. “Such good progress.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Joey stammered.
“Good boy now. I gotta finish my analysis now. See you down in the kitchen later.”
“Yes sir!” Joey said. He bowed in respect and left.

Joey’s heart was fluttering the whole time he bounced down the stairs. He’d met Darren in the gym. Darren was his mentor, his Sir, the first stud to claim him and fuck him in the locker room. He worshiped Darren and all his hot muscles – and his very nice thick cock. To think one day he’d eclipse Darren was a crazy thought. Joey flexed. Still not nearly as big as Darren. One day at a time. He hoped it didn’t happen too fast though. He liked being a boy in service and having a gym buddy.

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Captions are 100% fictional. Source is here. This guy is really beefy. Check out his Tumblr that I just linked. He has his own calender.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

temptingdominance:

King of the Pillows.

I stood by the bed and smiled. My birthday boy had stripped out of his clothes and apparently just couldn’t stay awake long enough to put on some boxers to sleep. My 30 year old boy, passed out like a 3 year old. He was sprawled over the entirety of our white-comforter, completely naked, and still wearing that silly crown Martha gave him. I reached out and caressed the perfect curve of his ass with my fingertips. What a flawless creature. I didn’t want to disturb him. My hopes of getting post-party birthday sex would have to wait until the morning though – hopefully with the crown on. For now though, I took it off and set it on the nightstand.

I threw my robe over the chair and turned off the overhead light so just the table lamp was on. I gently prodded him and he whined at me, protesting the entire time I tried to push him up to get the comforter out from under him. When I had freed it, I only had a small window of time to get under it and pull him towards me before he passed out again.

Once he felt me though, he scooted up and clung to me like a barnacle. I sighed at the sensation of his cock bumping against my leg. My own cock stirred, and I silently chided it. My boy rested his head on my chest. I was right up against the edge of the bed, but at least I wouldn’t fall off. Good enough. I kissed him on the forehead.

“Good night, my precious birthday boy in his birthday suit.”
“Gnite,” he grunted, barely audible.
I turned out the light.

The next morning he was plenty recharged. He was babbling about his presents and how much fun he had and laughing over the Instagram photos. It wasn’t until after breakfast that he finally calmed down enough where I had a moment to sneak in a kiss and convince him to come back upstairs to bed. The crown was waiting on the nightstand, and just like I hoped, he put it on while he rode me.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

sir2u-boy:

you know, sometimes I just lay back and think “fuck it’s good to be me”

“Does that whole ‘fuck it’s good to be me’ mentality include the part where I just want to worship and suck you and have you fuck me because you’re so hot?” I ask.
He looks at me with that entitled smirk I love so much. “It does now. That part is pretty nice. Matter of fact, I think my refractory period should be about over. I’m going to fuck you again right now.”
I rub his bulging bicep. “My ass is yours to use when you desire Sir.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Of course it is. Your ass would just be a regular butt if I didn’t grace it with my cock. And you will show me gratitude for elevating your status as my bitch.”
I squirm as I’m getting very horny, “Yes sir. Of course Sir.”
“Now get the lube and ride me. I’m comfortable and don’t want to get up.”
“Yes sir, of course Sir. May I clean you with a warm washcloth before hand?”
A pleased smug looks crosses his face. “You may. I would enjoy that. My cum is all dried on from the last time I put it up you.”
“Should I offer a plug so it stays in this time?”
“What a smart considerate bitch! Gosh, I wish there were more boys like you.”
“I don’t,” I say under my breath.
He hears me anyway and raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Cause then I’d have to compete with them for you.”
An honest look of fondness crosses his face. “What a lovely thing to say about someone. You definitely factor into the it’s-good-to-be-me mentality now, for sure.”
I blush and feel warm all over. God I love his attention! Every, sticky, sweet, sexy, drop.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

lumbrjax:

Instagram user @rebilw http://ift.tt/1UNiteg

“Yo, fag.”
Jackson was kneeling on the floor, waiting orders while Sir dressed, and popped up to sitting position when he was summoned. Sir did not like being called Master, and as his subservient, it was not appropriate to use Sir’s real name like they had casual relationship. Sir’s friends could call him Rocky. Jackson though that was such a perfect name for his Sir, with his sleek, muscular body. Without hair, he looked like a Marine. Jackson thought for the millionth time that he was lucky to gaze upon and serve such a handsome man – and talented. He had an amazing singing voice.
“Yes sir?” Jackson asked, looking at the chair he had last flung it over.
“Where is my black V neck shirt?”
“In the closet behind the red Vans shirt.”
“Fetch it,” Sir demanded, picking up his phone to check a text message.
“Yes sir!” Jackson was up like a rabbit, picking the shirt out of the closet. He removed it from the hanger, folded it, then kneeled and presented the shirt.
“Nice. No wrinkles,” Sir muttered, inspecting it. He didn’t need to know that Jackson had ironed it after Sir had gone to bed that night.
Sir dressed. Jackson stared at his bulge.
“Hey boy?”
“Yes sir.”
“My band’s going on a tour this fall. I think you’re trained enough to come with us. Clean up after us, make us coffee, help run errands, service us… wanna come see the US?”
Jackson stared, eyes so wide he could feel the air on them. “Oh my god yes, Sir! Please Sir! I’d love to. I’d be so useful, I wouldn’t get in anyone’s way.”
Sir did an unexpected thing – he smiled. “Your face is precious right now. If you had a tail in now, you’d be wagging it I’m sure. I hated having to board you for our last tour. Hate knowing Sir Bennett was using you.” Sir shook his head. “He boards well, but he’s so gross. Ugh.”
“I don’t like being apart from you either Sir,” Jackson said softly.
“That’s what I like to hear. You are an extension of me, boy. I will be very busy on this tour, and you may have to assume direction instead of waiting for direction – but I know you won’t let me down.”
“No sir!” Jackson said quickly.
Sir considered his happy looking boy kneeling on the floor. “You look weird. You have this dopey expression on your face. I think you need a cock in your mouth.“

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Captions are fictional.

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I gawked. He must have had 1% body fat on him. A pure male god of carved muscle – python thighs, a huge ass in high denim shorts, a triangle torso, big pecs… fuck he was hot! My dick thought so too. The man’s mouth was moving too, and it took a second for me to realize he was talking to me.

“I’m sorry what?” I said, shaking my head.
The man huffed. “Do you know where I could get a broom or a net or something? My hat blew into the water.” He pointed.

I looked. His baseball cap was floating on the water, thanks to the foam on the tracker style hat. The man looked distressed. “That’s my favorite hat,” he added. “My dad bought it for me, just before he died. Said it wasn’t right for a Mets fan to not have a hat.”
Holy shit, this guy was not only smoking hot, but also a Mets fan? The weird male urgency to do shit to impress people kicked in. “I got this.”
“What? You do?”

I took my phone, wallet, and keys out of my pockets. “Hold this.”
“What? Wait – you’re not-”
I threw my shirt on the dock, kicked off my sandals, and dove in. The water was cold and had an odd, marine smell to it, but it wasn’t terrible. The shock of the temperature felt pretty good because of the summer heat. I swam over to where the hat was bobbing and drifting away, and snatched it. The man cheered. Some people nearby clapped.

When I got to the dock, I gave the hot guy his hat back. He beamed at me. “Thank you so much man. Here, let me give you a hand.” He set down my stuff and hauled me out of the water with nearly one hand. Dude was strong!

I stood on the dock dripping. I pushed the water out of my eyes. “That was refreshing,” I stated.
The man was clutching his hat to his chest. “I can’t thank you enough. I um, was gonna do that but I’m scared of water where I can’t see the bottom,” he admitted.
My heart was racing. Hot, into the Mets, and sensitive – plus he had a good relationship with his dad. Prime boyfriend material. I swallowed. Please god let him be gay. “No problem man. I never got to know my dad, so I’m happy you got your hat back.”
The man smiled wistfully. “Sorry to hear that. Damn, you are wet. Ya know I don’t live that far from here. Why don’t you come over and dry off?”
Both of my eyebrows went up. “Uh. Bluh. I mean. Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”
His smile was radiant . “Awesome. Let’s go do that, get something to drink. You like craft beer? I got this sampler…”

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Captions are fictional.

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I sip my drink and think, with a dopey smile on my face, God he’s dumb. He’s just meat, communicating in this ancient animalistic language of muscles and grunts and assigning himself status by how many bitches he’s shagged. He makes stupid jokes over dinner – at a chain restaurant, of course – and puts away beer easily during the meal.

I find him kind of amusing actually. These jockbros are predictable. I will let him fuck me later, but there’s no future in this relationship. But that’s how it’s supposed to be – guys like Brice exist purely to fuck horny boys that have an urge to bottom. He’s just a rather realistic dildo for when our toys aren’t doing it for some reason. I’ll set him free after sex. Hell, it’s my duty to set him free during sex. That way, he can go lusting after some other twink ass and bless him with a hot fuck. He may be dumb, but Brice knows how to use his dick. Nice that he’s got that going for him. I pity the ones that don’t.

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Captions are fictional. This is Colin Wayne apparently.

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An indentured man heads toward the exit of the barn after performing his morning chores. The horses are nose-deep in their oats and hay. The bay mare and her colt are doing fine. The stalls were mucked. Water changed. The pigs are waking up and wandering toward their outdoor pen. The man turns his head and greets a barn cat dozing on a stall partition. He pauses to give the cat a few pets and a scritch behind the ears, murmuring what a good girl she is. Moxy is their best mouser, and keeps the barn free of infestation. Moxy begins to lick her paws, so the man continues on his way.

Next job is to first wash his hands, then go collect eggs from the henhouse and rouse all the chickens. The eggs will be brought to the main house for breakfast. His stomach grumbles at the thought of breakfast. Breakfast is his favorite meal. There was never enough breakfast left in the foster home he grew up in, and most of his memories of school were waiting out hunger until subsidized lunches were available.

He pauses at the barn entrance and looks back. It still feels weird to him to live out here in the country, to be trusted with these animals, to not see miles and miles of concrete and brick and cars. To hear the grass move in the wind instead of horns and feet on sidewalks. In a funny way, he reckons that getting caught after committing that string of ATM thefts was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Back in the city, the gang he was in was obsessed with territory, power, and money. Well, out here, the man had his own territory. Power, not so much. Money, not so much. Small government stipend in the bank every month. But territory… this is his place. This is his barn. The loft is his bed.The man smiles. Not too shabby.

He glances down at his naked form. Also, getting fit and ripped as hell was a pretty damn good unintended consequence too. A rooster crows loudly, reminding the man not to dilly-dally. He was generally left alone to supervise himself, but one step out of line and the ranch master would appear out of nowhere to put him back in it with that awful whip curled at his side. The man crinkles his nose. Why ruin a fine morning that way? He walks over to the hen house and opens the wooden doors. Fluffy, brown and white chickens spill out to eat new bugs in the dirt, clucking and shaking their feathers.

“Hello ladies, good morning, good morning. Fine day isn’t it?

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Captions are fictional.

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I just finished saying good-bye to the horses when I noticed Mack standing in the frame of the barn. My heart lept. He had been avoiding me the last few days, even since we had gone on that camping sleep over and made love under the stars. I think it was just too painful for him, counting down the days.

“Hey Mack,” I said, ogling his bare chest. I loved him shirtless.
“Hey,” he said, fingering his waistband. “So you’re off?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Just about. It’s long drive to Casper, I’m staying overnight, and then catching a morning flight to Dallas.”
Mack nodded. He knew all of this. “God it’s hot as fuck. We are going to have a great harvest this year because of it though. It’ll be weird without you.”
I took off my hat, sticking it on a stall post so I could take off my shirt and wipe my face with it. I then put my hat back on. “I’ll try to come back and help out.”

“No,” Mack said firmly, putting his foot down and turning to face me.
“…No?” I repeated, confused.
“No. You go off to college and you enjoy yourself. You learn. I’m not booksmart like you. The world out there is too big for me. All I ever need to know I’ll learn from the land and the animals.”
“Mack…”
“But knowing about agriculture ain’t enough. I’ve heard of good farms going down cause of bad books. You get smart, and you come back, and take this farm over from Old Man Pritchard and run this farm right. You hear?”
I nodded, a lump suddenly forming in my throat.
“I will.”
“And come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas ok? Or at least one?”
When I heard the sorrow in Mack’s voice, I almost wanted to tell him I’d stay.
I heard my own voice falter when I said – “I will.”

Mack shuffled in the thing. “And one other thing.”
“Yes?” I whispered.
He paused. “Shit.” He paused another moment and swallowed hard, scuffing up a storm of dust with his boots. I waited, heart pounding.
“I want you to do whatever what you want at college. Because when you come back here in four years, you are going to be mine. Gay marriage will be legal by then, I’m sure of it. And I’m going to marry you proper. But when you’re at college, you live without limits. No regrets. Just…don’t forget about me. Ok?”
I stared at Mack, shocked. My chest felt tight and my face hot. Not August-summer-hot, but like my-heart-was-pumping-in-overdrive-hot. It was all I had ever wanted, and something I’d never thought I’d hear him say; and now he was saying it, and I still had to leave.
When I didn’t reply right away, Mack repeated again in a smaller voice. “Ok?”
I nodded, my hands trembling. “Yes. Yes, ok. Yours.”
Mack exhaled loudly and his shoulders relaxed. “Ok.” I watched his sculpted torso heave, and he turned away from me sharply. “Shit,” he muttered again, and I watched him move his arms in a way that indicated he was brushing tears away.

I had only seen Mack cry three times in my life. Once when he fell off a horse at age seven and broke his arm. The other time was having to put down one of the collies after a coyote got to her. The last was when his mother died. And now….I felt guilt swell up in me. I had put off college for two years after I finished high school. The nearest community college was over an hour away, and I had a short lived career in rodeo to fill the time anyway.
With my winnings, I could finally afford to go to college. I got accepted to a program in Texas. I picked it cause I had rodeo friends in Texas. It was far from Wyoming. Mack had pushed me to go. I realized now that he had to have known what it meant, because he had to have been in love with me from that point. He was the strongest cowboy I had ever met. I knew there would be nobody in the entirety of Texas who would live up to how much I worshiped Mack.

I walked up to Mack and wrapped my arms around his waist. He was slick and sticky and dusty, but he smelled amazing. I buried my face in his neck and inhaled. My hat fell to the dust. Mack tensed, then wimpered. “Please…”
“I will miss you like hell, John MacIntire.”

The dam broke, and we both started sobbing. He turned to face me and threw his arms around my neck. The horses snorted. I don’t know who saw us, and I didn’t look up to see cause I would have been mighty embarrassed.
After a good cry, we both reached for our handkerchiefs at the same time and chuckled about it.
I kissed him, right there in the yard.
Mack kissed me back, and squeezed my ass. I couldn’t believe how forward he was being. It was like being in a wonderful, yet horrible dream.
Mack hiccuped, then bent over to pick up my hat and brushed it off before handing it back to me. “Your dad’s probably waiting by the car. You outta get going. Long drive to Casper.”
I nodded, putting it on my head. “Long boring drive. I’ll text you every step of the way ok?”
Mack nodded. “Bye, Harlan.”
I pulled away from him. He squeezed my hand, and then his rough and calloused hands fell away. “Bye Mack.”

I smiled, then took a few steps back, turned and walked away. I didn’t look back until the car was pulling down the long driveway. Mack was standing in the middle of the road, hand in his pockets, face shaded by his hat. He was scuffling up a storm.

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Captions are fictional.

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the-craftsman:

He had put on the suit and all things changed for him. He couldn’t help it as he stripped away the blazer, finding himself more horny as his muscular strength continued to build underneath. He only looked into the mirror to spot his face changing, and you had witnessed all the changes, sitting there as he began to strip and expose the changes of his body.

In ways he tried to resist, adjusting his tie, checking his shirt, but in many ways, it didn’t work. He couldn’t help himself from pleasuring the large erection he had and when he spotted your bulge too, he knew he would have to give in to his true sexy desires. He was a muscle daddy, flexing his pecs to make them grow, checking his biceps, even getting closer for you to see.

“You like this don’t you?” He simply asked and truth be told you probably did as he began taking off his shirt, continued flexing as he added his little comment; “I’ll put the soon on you too, don’t worry, we’re going to have a lot of fun together.” Until then, watch him strip…and enjoy.

I reblogged this gifset yesterday with my own caption, and the OP of the gifset (who isn’t the creator) messaged me and said that he originally captioned it himself. Somewhere along the lines, it got deleted. So he asked me to post the original caption, and so here it is.

The gifset is from Muscle Bound Gods.