Tag: mushy holiday stuff

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inordertobetterserve:

sir-erik:

temptingdominance:

puppyastro:

Christmas time for puppies 🙂

What beautiful time of year.

No peeing on the puppy-mas tree. Only smell.

Hahaha

“What do you mean I can’t mark these presents? They have my name on them.” My pup asks, his voice muffled from the mask.
“That means they’re already marked. No peeing. Smells only. Be a good boy.”
“Arfffff.” He says with a sigh.
”Did you put out cookies for Santa?”
“Arf.”
“Cause these look like dog biscuits.”
“Santa might be a pup too.”
I chuckle. "I don’t see why not. Ok pup, up to bed with you.” He’s been sleeping with me these last few nights because it’s been so cold in the house.

My pup looks at me, then drags his pup bed over to the tree by his teeth. “Awww,” I coo. “You want to sleep here and wait for Santa?”
My boy nods. “ARF!”
“Aw look at your tail go. Ok, you can sleep here, but I’ll have to bring the down blanket down here so you don’t get cold.”
“Woof!”
“But no peeking in the presents ok? Or you’ll get spanked.”
The pup nodded eagerly.
“Alright then. I’ll fill your water bowl down here then.”

The next morning, I woke up with my pup sitting on me with one of his presents to me in his mouth. Could there be a cuter Christmas morning? I was convinced not.

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Captions are fictional.

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‘Hey,” I say, with a knock. “You ok?”
“Nn.” Came the reply.
“I’m coming in.”
“Nn.”
I step into the bathroom, not knowing what to expect, but I had a ball of dread in the bottom of my stomach. I’m relieved Darren isn’t hurt, but then I see what he had done with the scissors and his hair. “Hey,” I repeat softly. “What are you doing?”
“It’s coming out,” he says quietly.
I sat on the closed toilet. “Your hair?” I ask.
Darren nods, blankly.
“That happens with chemo.”
“I thought I’d shave it off, but you can’t bring electronic shavers in the bath. And so I tried to cut it off but I can’t.” He hugs his knees. “I can’t. And it’s just falling out.” He begins to cry.
I furrow my brow and purse my lips. I’m only a few inches away but it feels like I can’t reach him. I swallow my emotions, stand-up, and begin to take off my clothes. Darren doesn’t look up. “Scoot forward,” I instruct, and he scoots up. I slip in behind him, but can’t fit my long legs folded. I place them on either side of Darren’s body, and then pull him against me. He leans against me, still a hard ball, shaking in the tepid water. I turn on the warm water to a gentle trickle, then tighten my grip on him. He begins to unravel, until he is laying on me. His body shakes softly as he cries.
“Darren?” I whisper.
“Y-yeah?” he hiccups.
“It’s going to be alright.”
“You don’t know that,” he accuses.
“I mean
” I exhale softly. “It doesn’t matter if your hair falls out. Or if you lose weight. Or if you get tired more easily. It doesn’t matter, no one is going to think negatively of you for it. It’s gonna be alright. You got friends. You got me.”
“
I don’t want to die from cancer.”
I squeeze him even tighter and kiss the top of his head. “We all die someday Darren. But you won’t die now. Not soon either.”
He doesn’t answer.
”You know, they say – live each day like it’s your last. But that’s silly, cause you’d do some stupid things or blow all your money right?”
Darren shrugs.
“Well, I think it’s silly. Especially because even if one of our days was the last, I’d still just want to spend it as a normal day with you. Because each day with you in it is a good day.”
Darren sniffles. “You will love me through out this whole thing?”
“With intense, passionate, unlimited love.”
Darren relaxes against me a little. “I love you, but I can’t believe you would give it to me back knowing what we’re up against.”
“I will always love you back,” I answer firmly, hoping he can’t hear my words shaking.
“That makes me happy. Hey, David?”
”Hm?”
“Would you shave my head?”
“Yeah. I will. Want me to shave mine?” I asked.
“No,” Darren says, “I like to play with your hair cause it’s long.”
I smile a little. “Ok. Just yours. And no more scissors ok?”
“Ok,” Darren says, “No more scissors.”

I kiss him on the head, and reach back to turn off the water. We sit in the silent bathroom, cuddling in contemplative quiet, until the water becomes cold. Darren falls still.
For a terrifying second, I think he’s actually dead.

No, just asleep. Rattled, I wake him up and help him dry off.

I put him to bed. After he’s tucked in, I go downstairs and turn on the living room light. I take the presents out of the hidden spot behind boxes in the closet and put them under the tree. I stuff the stockings with trinkets. Then, I sit down by the tree, stare up at the pretty twinkling lights, and begin to sob.

                                            _____________

It wasn’t my last Christmas with Darren. I got four more wonderful, merry Christmas Eves with Darren. We got a dog. There was a wedding. We bought a house. I let myself be happy.

Then the cancer came back. It didn’t respond to chemo anymore. I shaved Darren’s head again. It never grew back. I lost my Darren on a rainy July evening. I thought by December, that I was recovered enough to handle it. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t OK with the empty tree and the silent house.

My sister, who was worried about my lack of presence on Christmas morning, came to check on me. She found me in the garage. Just in time, the doctors said. But I could see it in their eyes. It was close. Too close. I was mad at first that she had stopped me, but by the time New Years rolled around, I just felt numb. I got therapy. I sold the house. I kept the dog.

A few days into therapy, my therapist told me about a group for gay persons who have lost their spouses. I went, and sat in the back. But I kept going once a month, and fourteen months later, a new person started coming.
“God how California is this that there’s vegan donuts over here?” Judd asked, chuckling.
“The coffee is organic too,” I noted.
“Good lord, this city. When I want to feel pitiful, I just want gas station coffee and shitty donuts made by people who don’t speak English and run a Chinese restaurant next door. Why is that hard?”
I actually laughed. “Now that you mention it, why are there so many Chinese restaurants next to donut places?”
Judd shook his head. “I really wish I knew. Gets me every time. Hm, actually this donut is pretty good..”
“I think you need to apologize to the donut, Judd. I don’t think the donut appreciated you judging it.”
That made him laugh back.

Judd lost his own husband, Mark, three years go. Brain aneurysm. Judd took it harder than me. He had no time to prepare. Woke up next to his husband t to find him dead and stiff. Can you imagine that? Judd, who had a problem with pain killers already, turned to heroin to numb his pain. He was climbing out of his own hole, but sober, and cautiously optimistic.

And quite unexpectedly, I made a friend. And then a close friend. And then, a lover. One day, I caught myself thinking, “if it wasn’t for Darren, I wouldn’t have ever met Judd.” I felt guilt for that. But my therapist said Darren would probably like that he could still make me happy.

At Christmas now, I sit at the sofa and sip coffee while I stare at the mesmerizing beauty of the lights on the tree.
Darren’s favorite ornament hides shyly off the side, keeping Mark’s ornament company too. The tree is even more beautiful now, even though there’s two small children destroying wrapping paper underneath it and screaming over presents. Judd comes and sits next to me on the sofa, and puts a box in my lap. “Merry Christmas,” he says kissing me. I smile and kiss him back. I am happy.
“Merry Christmas, Judd.”

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Captions are fictional.

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clinicallymoi:

An adorable submission from @subtle-butt-crack 

(This caption is 100% fictional. This is a writing exercise, and does not attempt to assume the identities, sexuality, or personalities of the people in the picture.)

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Hey Sylvie,

Thanks for your e-mail. Things are actually going SUPER well. I was so nervous for absolutely no reason. The first thing Jason did after meeting my mother was gush about her decorating and the house -without me even prompting him – and so she immediately fell in love with him. I could see the suspicion melt off her face. I think she was worried that Jason was going to be a super flame like my last boyfriend with the BIG theatre boy personality, and she was going to be uncomfortable since she’s just a quiet church type lady. I’m really proud of her for being so supportive and accepting of me being gay, despite what some people have said to her at church. I think showing her gays can be ‘normal people’ (as dumb as that sounds, lol) has really made her realize that it’s not a “lifestyle” and that we just want to be treated like any other person.
She told me later that before meeting Jason that she was 100% sure that she rarely ever met a gay person, but now that she realizes gays can be “normal”, now she’s not sure! I was so happy to hear my mom is so forward thinking.
And I know what you’re gonna say – aren’t I pretty normal? Yeah, unless I’m at a Madonna concert, but when it’s your own kid it’s different.

Anyway. Here’s a picture from the Broken Rock Hike near my house. Used to go up here all the time and smoke weed when I was in high school, lol. The leaves are super pretty this time of year. Being from Arizona, Jason had NEVER seen leaves like this close up – it absolutely blew his mind. He kept picking them up and gawking like a child. It was SO PRECIOUS. I took a thousand photos, lol. A nice hiker took this photo of us. Isn’t it sweet? I’m gonna print it out when I get home.
Makes me sad to think Jason was going to spend Thanksgiving at the dorms by himself 🙁 So sad, but he does get to go home to Yuma for Christmas break. My mom and I are helping him buy a ticket home – shh! It’s his present hee hee. I know Jason’s parents have it hard, with his sister being disabled, and the scholarship to Dartmouth is the only thing that got him to college.

He’s a really sweet boy. I really am falling hard for him. I know, I know, college crushes won’t last right? We’re just two years out of high school. But arg, look at that smile! I think even if we don’t work out, which I would be sad about, I *would* be pleased to know I helped Jason moved forward on his journey to adulthood, to independence, and uh, ya know, exploring his sexuality. I know you’d love nothing more than the details, but nuh uh. Won’t happen. I will say that he is such a cuddler though *wink wink*.

Anyway. Hope you are having a nice Thanksgiving abroad in Japan. Could you even buy a turkey there??? I heard on Christmas everyone eats KFC. Is that true? Send pics of your feast! I’m about to go eat ours 🙂

See you back at Dartmouth in January.

Love, and Happy Thanksgiving,

Caspian

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Captions are 100% fictional. Don’t you dare reblog this without the disclaimer, or source please.

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Alastair tugs on my sleeve. I tear my gaze away from the dancing revelers to look at him. He jerks his head slightly – as much as one tends to do when they have horns jutting out of their head that can injure someone. I raise an eyebrow and follow him away from the bonfires, the howlers, the witches trying to teach the drunk vampires their social dances. Alastair takes me over to the wooden tables where had our November Feast to celebrate another successful Halloween. All of the scraps had been cleaned up by the little dragons long time now. We are alone here, the woods to our back. The light from two full moons above us lit Alastair in a silvery glow. Small fairies left lazy trails of lights as they weaved in and out of the branches. Oh so romantic.

“So…” I begin, leaning on the counter, thrilled to be alone with him – finally.
Alastair looks at me and smiles. “I don’t know if you can tell, but ever since you got those tattoos with your latest evolution, you just look so unbelievably stunning that I keep staring at you?”
I blush. Only Alastair makes me show my emotion so easily. “I noticed a little,” I admit. “I don’t look weird?” I ask, holding out my arms.
“No, I love your hands black,” Alastair murmurs, taking my hand and kissing the back of it. His charcoal hair falls in a curtain around his face, tickling my wrist and arm. “Honestly, when I look at you, I am mostly just stumped that you stuck around to love someone like me.”
I scoff. “Don’t give me that nonsense.”
“No, I’m serious.” Alastair insists. “I hadn’t realized that I was putting on the personality people expected from me. They all know me, who my dad is, who we are, and they want me to live up to that expectation. You just stuck around for three years, loving me hard enough to teach me that I could be the demon I really wanted. I am so very lucky to have your affection.”
“Aww Alastair,” I sigh, pressing my hands over my robes, over my heart. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I open my mouth to say more but he put a hand up.
“At least let me say I love you,” I insist.
His face softens. “I will never tire of hearing that.”
Seeing him let his sarcastic, cocky guard down is such a rare thing that it makes my heart swell. “Alastair…”
“I uh,” he pats the pockets of his long coat nervously, the metal decorations jingling. “I just -um, don’t think I really show you enough that I care.” He takes something out of his pocket and thrusts it out to me with both hands. “I want you to have this.”
My hands fly to my mouth as I gasp. “Alastair, I can’t take that!”
Alastair looks at the jar holding the sliver of moon, shakes his head, and sets it on a wooden table. “Taking or not, that’s not the right word. It’s yours, Saphrael. You were coveting the prize since the Counsil announced it yesterday. Looking at it all love’sick. Honestly, you should have won it. You found that stray soul I could not. I wouldn’t have found it before the barrier closed for another year. I know you didn’t say anything to avoid embarrassing me, but you should have won it. Plus, it would make me happy knowing it was cherished.”
My chest hitches and I gently pick up the bottle with both hands, the pointed tips of my nails clinking against the glass. In it, the sliver of moon sparkled and shone. I sigh deeply. It’s truly beautiful. Rare as a meteor. As long as I kept it in the sun, it would never lose its glow. A symbol of love if there ever was once. I tuck it in my robe pocket over my heart and brush tears out of my eyes with my sleeve. “Thank you Alastair.”
“You are welcome.” He sighs in relief and wraps his arms around me. I lift my wings so he could get around my back. I press myself up against him, enjoying the sensation of the hard glass between us. Alastair, all six and a half feet of him, feels like a strong tree against me. He kisses the top of my head. “There is something else too…”
I nuzzle his collarbone, enjoying the faint smokey scent clinging to him. “Hm? What is it?”
He begins to pet my wing distractedly. “I think I finally have the courage to ask my father if he would approve me mating with you. But I have to ask you first, duh.”
I pull back from him and stare at him with giant eyes. “Alastair Mephistopheles, are you spinning elven yarns?” The sight of him nervous and stammering and flushed at the base of his horns makes my knees weak.
“No, I’m not – I, I – I want you,” he whimpers. “I want you to rule next to me, and to give you eggs that you always wanted and-”
I can’t help it. I throw my arms around him and press my lips against his hard, trying to burn my love into him like a brand. Tears stream down my face. “Yes, Alastair, a thousand seas, yes!”
He coughs out a laugh of relief and releases the air he was holding in his chest. “Holy hell, I thought I was going to faint asking you that!”
“I’m – I’m in shock you did!” I squeak.
Alastair pushes his hair over the side of his head, making it go everywhere. "It wasn’t until I actually said it out loud did I actually convince myself I did the right thing. I don’t know why I find it so easy to lead in the bedroom, but I am so scared of fucking up our relationship.”
I kiss him again. “Oh don’t you worry. You are doing everything right.”
“Oh, that’s good,” he chuckles. “Cause I still might faint.” He quickly brushes tears away from his eyes. “Now just to just tell my dad…”
I take his hand. “We’ll do it together.”
Alastair looks relieved. “Thank god.”

A deep howl punctuates the air. Dawn is an hour away. “I think you have to go officiate the closing ceremonies soon,” I note.
Alastair sighs. “I don’t want to officiate again this year. Why do they always make me do it?”
“Cause you look super hot up there orating and making fire come out of your hands?”
Alastair gives me a look. “You are biased. Any demon chick or baby orc can do that.”
“I’m sitll right,” I insist.
He chuckles. “So biased. What I really want to be doing is to take you to my chambers, make you that tea you like, and make love to you from dawn to dusk.”
I raise my wings a little in interest; goosebumps break out everywhere. “I would like that. Especially since I’m wearing that pretty bit of metal you got for my birthday this year…”
That gets his attention. “What? You are? Like right now? You’ve been wearing the ring this entire time?”
“Yes,” I say non-chalantly.
“You mean while you were collecting?”
The corner of my mouth lifts and I shrug. “Being a bit aroused makes my senses heightened. My powers weaken a little when I cross the barrier. It keeps me strong.”

Alastair’s eyes glow like embers. “Fuck, that is just unbelievably sexy.” His hand gathers my robe at my thigh and pushes it up so he can slide it under. “I think they can wait a little longer.” Alastair dips his head and begins to kiss my neck as he grabs my ass and pulls me against him. I put a hand on his horn and thrust back against him. “Y-yeah,” I stammer as the bottle presses into my ribs. “They will have to wait. Dawn’s a while out yet. “Mmm goodness you are hard in your breaches.” The scent of burning cedar fills the air, which by now, gets me randy automatically. I’m pretty sure what we are about to do will be brief. Alastair will want to take his time with me later, and I am fine with that. I don’t want to wait to celebrate becoming his!

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Captions are fictional. Oh yes, m-preg, I went there.

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Seamus held his breath as the comet traveled upwards, leaving little sprinkles of light in its wake. Then, it exploded into a thousand speckles of white. He screamed and covered his ears in shock.
John tore his eyes away from the spectacle to look at Seamus, his brown furrowed with concern. “Are you ok?”
“I just – oh my god!” Seamus laughed. “It’s so loud! Fireworks are ridiculous!”
“I can’t believe you haven’t seen fireworks before,” John marveled, putting an arm around Seamus.
“Well, not a lot of 4th of July celebratin’ going on in ol Ireland,” Seamus noted. A trio of explosions went off and he gasped. “Oh it made a spiral thing!”
John smiled. He had a hard time deciding what to watch – the fireworks show or Seamus’s face. He had been smitten with that charming, shy boy who came to study at Harvard from a distant, green place. Every since John had spotted Seamus in the library, he’d been infatuated. When John heard that Seamus didn’t have any plans for the 4th of July, he insisted that he come with John for a picnic on the roof of his dad’s work building. They could see nearly every firework in the city of Boston.

And it was just Seamus and Jonathan, up on the roof, all by themselves. Seamus squeezed John’s hand tight and squealed. “I love this!”
John squeezed back. “I do too. Ah, look it made a heart!”
“It did!”

They snuggled close, watching the show. After the display wound down to just puffs of colored light, Seamus looked at Jonathan. Jonathan swallowed. They were so close. Jonathan gazed at Seamus’s handsome face, admiring his sweeping cheek bones and strong nose, and those light brown eyelashes that went on forever. He felt himself lean in toward Seamus as if pulled by a magnetic force. Their lips met, and a swell of happiness filled Jonathan from head to toe. He couldn’t remember a time in his adulthood or life when he’d felt the bliss of love so fully, or experienced a kiss that left him feeling like he could float.

They parted. Jonathan licked his lips. Seamus tasted like flag cake. Seamus was blushing hard. “That was my first kiss in America.”

Jonathan was about to respond, when a long whistling shriek caught their attention. They both looked up as a massive firework exploded in a shower of red, white, and blue. They both jumped at the noise.
“In ainm DĂ©!!” Seamus shouted in surprise.
“Wow!” Jonathan said at the same time.

The finale left them both captivated and slack jawed as the pyrotechnicians let off everything they had left. When it was finally over, they could hear applause ring all over the city. Jonathan joined them, whooping and clapping.

Then, it was over. They gathered up their picnic, the roasted chicken and potato salad and green beans that Jonathan prepared had almost all been eaten. The two held hands as they rode the elevator down to the first floor.

On the sidewalk, Jonathan called a Lyft despite the price. They dawdled and talked until the car finally came. Seamus pouted after their goodnight kiss. “I had a lot of fun tonight, Jonathan.”
Jonathan glanced at the car, and at Seamus’s face. “Would you like to come back with me and stay the night?”
Seamus brightened. “You mean it, lad?”
Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to go,” he admitted.
For a moment, Seamus looked like he might cry. “Me neither.”

They got into the Lyft together, and went back to Jonathan’s place. They went on to make their own fireworks that night.

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Captions are fictional. Happy 4th of July.

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lickerpup:

Rudolph the red-thonged reindeer~

Had a very shiny gag~

And if you ever saw him~

You’d say “what a total fag!”~

Merry Christmas tumblr! 🙂

“What a cute little faggot reindeer,” Santa chuckled, eating one of the cookies left for him. “You’re supposed to be in bed aren’t you?”
The boy shrugged and looked at the floor shyly.
“Well, I can’t be mad at a boy that wants to wait up for Santa.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, then set it on the coffee table. “This is for you.”
The fag’s eyes lit up.
“Too small to fit under the tree you see. Just for you. Shhh.”
Then to the boy’s surprise, Santa winked at him then disappeared into a red poof of smoke. He sat on his butt and tried to contemplate what just happened. The base of the tree was littered with presents. The boy rubbed his eyes. The little box was still on the table. The box and the lid were wrapped separately so it was easy to open. Inside was a tiny bullet vibrator. There was a thud on the roof and the boy rushed to the window to see a shadow sail into the night. He couldn’t believe it! Santa had known exactly what he wanted. He’d been a good faggot after all.

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Text is fictional. I hijacked your post, @lickerpup.

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bondcyberrole:

ooooooh
.i’m dreaming
of a white christmas

It’s never a good sign when you wake up and your boy is missing on Christmas. You woke up before your alarm, which means your boy wasn’t scheduled to present by your side for a little while longer. Yet, you expected to hear him prattling around the kitchen, preparing a special breakfast, cocoa and coffee, and getting ready to open gifts. Your boy actually has presents under the tree – mostly things he can use to serve you better or things you will use on him, but still, boxes have his name on them. But he’s not here.

Where is he? You feel miffed and concerned. Where is your boy? You feel a breeze and notice the back door is ajar. You step forward to it, pulling your robe around you. What you see takes your breath away. Outside, in two feet of snow, your naked and vulnerable servant boy is standing up to his knees in soft powder. Flakes of it pepper his hair, and his face is turned skyward. You can’t believe it. It’s a white Christmas. 

You remember for a moment that you bought your boy from a dealer that had brought his stock up from Florida. Had the boy never seen snow? You never bothered to ask. You knew he was fascinated by autumn and relished the traditions of holiday seasons, but had had he never seen snow? Truly? 

You open the door. There’s a clear path where your boy cut a path through the deck and down to the yard. You jog to the mud room to fetch your boots and coat, and pull them on without really tying your laces or buttoing the fasteners. You’re worried your boy is going to get frostbite out there. You pull open the back door, and you’re cold all over. It’s freezing. You stumble to the edge of the porch. 
“Boy,” you call gently, not wanting to scare him. He doesn’t hear you. He sticks out his tongue, trying to catch a snowflake. You pull out your phone and snap a quick photo. In the zoom, you can see he’s trembling from here. You get an idea to get his attention. With numb fingers, you wad up a ball of snow and throw it at him. It hits him square in the back and he yelps.

You laugh. If that wasn’t funny, the way he’s staring at you in surprise is. 
“Come inside, you’re going to get frostbite on your toes.”
“I’m wearing my rain boots, Sir.”
“Still, this is no weather for a boy to be naked outside.” I say, throwing another snowball at him. He ducks.
“Coming Sir,” he replies, teeth chattering.
You shake your head and throw snowballs at him until he hurries up, but he’s laughing. When he’s on the deck, you turn your back to head back inside – and then a moment later you feel it, the impact of something wet and cold hitting the back of your jacket.

You whirl around.

You can’t believe it! Your boy just hit you with a snowball. His cheeks are red and he looks terrified as he is pleased with himself. Very sheepish.

I eye him. That was easily a spank-able offense. “You have good aim,” I say, feeling generous, then turn back inside. You hear him sigh in relief. 

When you get back inside, he is noticeably shivering. His cock is so small that you’re sure he could have pulled the chastity cage off. You order him to get dressed and prepare something hot to drink while you go turn up the heat a little. Your boy bows then goes to his quarters to dress in his winter thermals.

You linger by the window, watching the snow fall, already burying your tracks and your fun. You wonder if your boy has ever been sledding, and suddenly you know how to spend your Christmas. Where in the Master handbook does it say you can’t command your boy to have fun? 

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Text is fictional. 

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The party was thriving right outside the simple, pressboard door but it might as well have been in a separate dimension. I could hear the thump of the Spotify playlist I made, and the occasional sprinkle of laughter or shouting from a drunk guest. It was Christmas in New York, and we had passed our exams and we were all going a little crazy, being a little bold. It must have been the champagne though. I mean why else would I get up the courage to flirt with that guy in my life drawing class that I been pining for all semester? 

Santa must have decided I deserved a present early, or maybe Todd was just as drunk I was, but soon he was pulling me away from the noise and activity to a spot where we would be alone. We found a place, then a chair.
I had always prayed he was a top. It wasn’t like me. I was stereotypically gay as they came but I still didn’t like the idea of being a sissy. I imagined myself to be more of a power bottom than I actually was, but Todd saw right through me. He knew to put me on his lap and assert himself and hold me in place.

Todd’s hand on my side tickled a little, and the heavy pressure of it made my heart flutter. My cock also found it very interesting.
I didn’t have time to linger on my rising panic as the bulge in my pants grew. Todd nuzzled me, then gently guided my chin forward with his artistically skilled fingers and pressed his lips to mine. My brain shut down. 

How long we sat there like that, gently kissing, I’m not entirely sure. I know at some point, the door opened and the party rudely spilled into our private space. It was loud and ugly and I wanted it to go away. I know someone said, “Hey Todd have you seen ….ohhhh about time” and then the door closed. But I didn’t look up to see who it was. It was in another dimension, you see. Far away. It did not concern me. I was living in the present, happily being seduced by a beautiful boy in a fine blue shirt with a perfect chin that fit right between my fingers. 

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Text is fictional.

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“Ok, the potatoes are done, the salad is done, the turkey needs a little while longer. Ugh still have to cut the pies? Why won’t they cool! Ah shit, stir the sauce stir the sauce…that was all my orange peel so I can’t fuck up the cranberry sauce…still have to set the goddamn table too uuuugh…”
I walk into the kitchen. “Babe are you alright?”
“Fine! I’m fine,” Julian said tartly. “Just…you know, running a little behind.”
“If you’re a little late it’s ok,” I told him. That was apparently the wrong thing to say.
“No. No, it’s not. It’s important to me that we look punctual and productive. It’s our first Thanksgiving in our new house together, as a couple. It’s important to me that people think we’re fucking flawless and I got this shit.” Julian mutters something to himself about people thinking he can’t be in a relationship.

I stare at his butt and give him my pity from a distance. Julian had a bit of a rough start in life, and had to sell himself for a bit to pay his rent a few times in community college. All of his loser friends told him he’d end up a nothing, and his parents told him he was a failure and no one would love him because he was gay and an artist. I had been slowly excising the toxic fat out of his life, and replacing them with a more supportive circle of friends. Julian’s hang-ups emerged at times like this. He had to prove to himself he could do certain things. There was nothing I could do, except support him. I peeled apples for pies, made the coffee and did the dishes and Julian was happy with that. It was getting close to meal time though and his stress was off the charts. I couldn’t sit back and let him be so frazzled.

Julian turned off the cranberry sauce. “Good. Now it just has to cool.”
“Julian,” I said softly.”
“Hm?”
I walked up to him and guided him to the counter next to the stove. 
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I untied his apron and took the lube out of my pocket. “Helping.” 
“Wha – ah!” he cried out in surprise as cold lube slid down his crack. I unzipped my pants. That got his attention. “Wait – you aren’t? Right here. Honey this isn’t -”
But I was already pressed up against him, pulling his hips toward my cock. His tight hole fought me for a moment, so I rubbed my shaft between his cheeks and tried again. This time, he welcomed me. I pushed into him in three slow strokes, down to the hilt. Julian whimpered, one hand grabbing the counter, the other on my wrist.
I nibbled his ear and rubbed his hardening cock with my hand that had done the lubrication. “Move with me,” I purred.
I didn’t give Julian much of an option. We were close, skin to skin, and each thrust from my hips made him move with me. He groaned softly and we began to rock together. I wrapped an arm around Julian’s waist and counted how many times I pushed my cock inside of him – 1, 2,3…. at 8, his muscles tensed and he peaked. I pumped his cock with my tired hand until he fouted all over the counter and the cabinets, noises of bliss pouring out of his mouth. My original goal was to pull out and explode on his butt, but Julian had me locked in so good that I just filled his ass up with my cum. I felt him tremble as the heat flooded him. I breathed hard into his ear as I worked his slick member. “Shit,” I grunted. It was over almost as soon as it begun. “That was intense.”
“That was…that was…” Julian fumbled for words.
I pulled out and pressed myself against him again. I put both hands on his shoulders. “What you needed. You are much more relaxed now. I can feel it in your muscles.”
Julian leaned his head on me. “Mmmn… yes. What was I stressing over again? I think I might have a glass of wine.”
I smiled. “Why don’t you shower, get dressed in that nice blue sweater I bought you? The turkey has fifteen more minutes on it. Let me take it out of the oven.”
Julian turned a bit to look at me. “Ok. I’ll trust you with it. And check the bottom of the pies. If they’re cool, cut them ok?” 

I nodded and kissed him, then poured him a glass of wine and sent him to the shower. I spent the next fifteen minutes tidying and cleaning and cutting pies. I was setting the table when Julian came downstairs. When he walked into the room, I saw the look he was giving me and it stuck me to the floor. It was a look of pure adoration and love. He was glowing. He also looked fucking sexy in that sweater and slim cream pants. This was the Julian who had been struggling to come out for so long. I was so grateful our lives had intersected, and then merged. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Julian,” I said.
Julian smiled at me. “Happy Thanksgiving. How did the turkey come out?”
“Beautiful.”
He sighed in relief. “Thank god. Now I just had to go make gravy before-”
Ding dong!
“…The Martens get here. Early as always.”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Go make the gravy. I’ll distract them with wine.”
Julian glanced at his empty glass. “Yes, more wine is good.”

We laughed, and we kissed. I hoped we had many more holidays like this.

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Bobby put the pasta sauce in the cart, finding room for it with the condoms and shampoo and groceries and seltzer water and other things. It had been a long shopping list, and it had been hard to resist temptation. He was not allowed to deviate from the list at all. Bobby texted his Master and let him know he had been a good boy, gotten everything, and was headed to the cash register now.
Bobby made it two aisles before his phone binged. Had his Master forgotten something?
“Hey boy. Forgot to put something on the list.”
“Yes Sir, what is it?” Bobby texted back.
“Halloween candy.”
Bobby gasped.  “Oh Sir you mean it?” He had never been allowed to buy it for the holiday before. Only after, when it was on sale, and two bags only. 
“Yes boy. It is our first year in our new house. You have kept it so spotless and organized. I can’t wait to show it off when we open our door to trick or treaters. So stock up! I want to be The Good House. So have fun shopping.”
Bobby made a happy noise and smiled. “I will Sir! Thank you Sir!” He put his phone back into his bag and turned the cart toward the orange section in the back of the store, trying not to rush. Sometimes a houseboy could be a really fun job. Oh my god there was just so much candy! Bobby took all the time he wanted making the perfect selection. 

Roger burst out laughing when he saw how much Bobby bought. It was clearly too much but Bobby’s excitement was adorable, and Roger thought it would be too mean of him to spank his houseboy for overspending. At the very least, there would be candy in his lunch box until Christmas. 

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Text is fictional.