Tag: true love

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

My boyfriend came with a lot of baggage. Abandoned by his parents at 3, Ciprian grew up in an orphanage in rural Romania until he was adopted by American parents at 12. Malnourished, club footed, and institutionalized, it took years of therapy and medical care to salvage his youth and life. I met Ciprian at an art gallery showing. His therapist suggested he paint as an outlet to his anger and so he created beautiful, turbulent works of art. I purchased two, then asked him out for coffee.

Cip reminded me of a moth, cute yet a bit dull colored, flapping weakly with an injured wing. He needed more love than his parents could give him. He was starving for it. He needed so much love, it overwhelmed me. His eyes were so hungry. When Ciprian and I walked down the street in our big city, he always looks frightened and meek in ill fitting clothes. He was also self conscious over his leg brace. But, I loved him. I loved his interest in plants and his dedication to art, the way he served me tea and homemade cherry dumplings as if I were the Queen.

Some days, when Ciprian gets overwhelmed or depressed, and insists that he was a mistake and he should have died in that orphanage, I take him to the park. I let him gaze upon the river and the trees, feel the wind and the sun on his face, listen go the birds and frogs. It grounds him, to remember that although sometimes the world is ugly, it can be beautiful too and he is as part of it as anything else. There isn’t much that words can do. I just put an arm over him, and kiss his shoulder, and remind him I’m here and I care about him. Sometimes, he’ll put a hand on my thigh, squeeze it, and just cry softly while staring forward. I think when this happens, the poison is being pushed to the surface and washed away by his tears.

He’s getting better for sure. Ciprian has improved a lot since we met. He dresses better, and is painting more and selling steadily. Even though he is on disability for PTSD, he landed a job in an art supply and framing store. I threw him a party for this accomplishment and after everyone left, we made love in our bedroom with the windows open.

I was actually quite surprised he liked sex. At first, he was only interested in exploring my body in almost a clinical way. I would just lie there and his hands would roam over me, pushing on me, stroking me, testing me. I let him. I thought it was erotic. I always had to finish myself off because Ciprian liked to watch; he found it fascinating.
Gradually, we built it up trust until he permitted me access to his body. I think it makes him happy knowing that although he feels like he’s gross and malformed, that I desire him. Also, he seemed surprised that there was nothing wrong with his sex drive after all, it was just dormant, buried beneath all his trauma.

I think sometimes I’m doing a little more than helping him heal. I think I’m helping him find his identity. Not Ciprian the orphan, Ciprian the adoptee, Ciprian the 24 year old, just…Ciprian. My Ciprian.

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Text is fictional. Couldn’t find the source for this. Edit on pronuncation: ‘Ciprian’ is pronounced “Chip-riahn and the stress is on the second syllable”.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Greg had been listening to his boyfriend’s heartbeat for the last forty minutes. It was so soothing to be so comfortable, so warm and snug on a chilly spring night. Yet, he couldn’t fall asleep. Normally he was out like a light – wasn’t there something he’d forgotten to do? It nagged at him. Jesse was asleep too half under him, and Greg had been listening to the soft sounds of him breathing the entire time. He liked having quiet moments like this to appreciate his lover and to just snuggle – his previous boyfriend didn’t like to snuggle – but Greg wanted to join Jesse in sleep now. What was the deal?

He ran through his night routine – turn off the light in Jesse’s beloved aquarium downstairs, lock the doors, turn off the porch lights, put the meat from the freezer on a plate to defrost in the fridge… he’d done all that. Go upstairs, check. Brush his teeth, check. Floss, check. Give his boyfriend his good night kiss, ch… wait a second. Greg furrowed his brow. No, he hadn’t. They’d been talking about Greg’s pregnant sister when they turned off the lights, and Jesse had dozed off. That’s what it was. Greg felt warm when he realized it. He couldn’t sleep without his goodnight kiss. Jesse meant that much to him.

Greg tilted his head up and pressed his lips to Jesse’s soft, open ones, their stubble brushing together. He couldn’t wait to tell Jesse in the morning… and that was his last thought before he fell off into deep sleep.

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Text is fictional. The actors are Tom Cullen and Chris New, and this gif is from the heartbreakingly beautiful gay film Weekend.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Having a deaf boyfriend can be frustrating sometimes. I was attracted to him when I saw him reading in the park, but it was difficult to get his attention without verbal cues. I had to ask him out using a pen and paper. There are small adjustments too – like you forget he can’t read lips if he’s behind you. You can’t yell “watch out” or anything either, and you can’t call, only text. When things began to get serious, I had to buckle down and learn sign language since it’s hard for him to talk clearly. I am terrible at memorizing things, so it was a frustrating painstaking process.

Yet, having a deaf boyfriend has some amazing upsides. I’ve worked harder at this relationship than any before, and we are so close. I can play music at any volume or bang around the kitchen without waking him. Plus, he is amazing with his hands and a great kisser. Did I mention I love how goddamn loud he is in bed? He’s a screamer, that one. The best benefit came with learning this new language though. We could be standing anywhere in public, like in a metro stop or in the grocery store, and he will give me a sly smile and sign the dirtiest things, like he wants my cock in his ass. It always makes me crazy horny, and he is not against fucking in public.

Right now, I am working on learning how to sign this speech I wrote and the gestures for, “Will you marry me?”. Judging by the hints he’s been dropping lately, I know he’s gonna say “yes”.

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Text is fictional. At Stagecoach, so I will add source later.

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“I’m hooome.” I close the door behind me and shuck off my shoes. Nothing. “Jude? Is anyone home?” I call out, setting down my briefcase and loosening my tie. The car is in the driveway.
Jude sticks his head down the stairwell and then jogs down to give me a welcome-home kiss. “Oh my god I am so glad to seee you, Jesus Christ. Things are insane around here! We went out for food at this bistro after the dentist appointment at 2, but Dominic got food poisoning and so he’s in bed resting and not doing his homework, but Anna has got the crazies and is making a mess up there with her toys. The dog hasn’t been walked, the cockatiel’s cage needs to be cleaned, someone’s been drawing on the bathroom walls again, and I *still* haven’t made dinner. Dominic says he’s not eating ever again, but Anna wants franks and beans but I forgot buy beans and-”

“Woah woah woah!” I laugh, “Slow down, sloow down. Come here. Deep breath.” I kiss him slowly and pull him into a hug. “Breathe.”
“But Anna-”
“Let her destroy the house. Messes can be picked up. Goo-gone and paint will fix the walls. Dominic is resting. We can order pizza. I’ll take care of the pets.”
“Nnng fine.” He nuzzles my neck and clings to me, rocking with me for several moments until the mania passes. “You smell nice. It makes me horny.”
“You bought me this cologne for Christmas.”
“Oh that’s why I bought it,” he chuckles.“
"Are you ok now?” I inquire.
He puffs out his cheeks and exhales. “Yeah, I’ll live. I’m fine. Pizza sounds great, actually.”
“…Jude?”
“Yeah?”
“Where are your clothes?”
“Oh remember how I said Dominic got food poisoning? Yeah he barfed all over me. I never got dressed.”
I shake my head. “Man, makes my day sound dreadfully boring by comparison. I thought I’d top your day with my epic tale of a jammed printer and our boss falling asleep during an important meeting.”

The corners of Jude’s mouth turn up. “Oh I definitely want to hear the epic tale of the printer, you know how I get about toner.”
I laugh and kiss him again, then add in a low voice. “Oh baby, the toner was everywhere.”
“Oh baby.” Jude wiggles his eyebrows at me, plucking at my jacket lapels, making me grin.

“DADDYYYYYYYYY!”
I look up in time to see a 7 year old ball of energy shimmying down the stairs at lighting speed. I barely have enough time to kneel down to catch her before I’m nearly knocked on my ass.
“Hey there sweetie! Daddy tells me you’ve been quite busy today.”
“I built a city! and Dominic puked! It was gross! I built a cities for ponies! Come see Papa come see!”

Jude gestures in Anna’s direction. “You see what I mean? It’s like she had three Redbulls and six cups of coffee.”
“She’s seven. That’s her default status.” I pick her up and set her on my hip. “Go shower and get dressed, love. Go order dinner. I’ll take the kids for a walk with the dog, and when I come back we’ll eat ok? I’ll clean the tiel cage later.”
Jude looks relieved to have someone else in control for once. “I will do exactly that.” He steals another kiss from me. “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.” I start up the stairs then glance over my shoulder as he trails behind me, “Oh and Jude, while you’re in the shower, get really really clean.” I wink.
He lights up and bites his lip. “Promise? It’s been a week.”
“Dadddyyyyyyyyyyy.”
“Alright, we’re going baby. And yes Jude, I promise. You’re gonna feel it for another week after.”

I’m more than pleased to see him blush.

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Text is fictional. Men are Harry Louis and Hugo Martin from Lucas Entertainment, from the series Trapped in the Game. Source is the Lucas blog.

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“Ohhh fuck yeah, I’m in! – It’s in, it’s in, god baby you swallowed me right to the hilt,” I purr.
“Ah–ow ow! Nng!” he crunches his face up.
“Shit, that was a bit fast wasn’t it? Are you ok, babe?”
“Yeah just…nnng,,” he holds his breath for a long moment and releases it, panting softly. “Gimme a sec. You’re in. You’re actually in me. I ..can feel you, it feels huge.”
I smile. “You flatter me. Are you in pain?”
“No just…I need a moment to adjust. Feels good. Feels hot.” He pulls my face close and kisses me.
I return it slowly while watching his face contort. I can feel him clench and squeeze around me, making my dick swell even more. “Relax, just relax. You feel amazing, babe, like this thick velvety glove around me.” I nuzzle his face, nose to nose. “Can you feel it too?”
“Oh yeah…I can feel it throbbing, the pulse. I do that to you?”
“Yeah babe you do,” I chuckle. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too – there’s no one else I’d trust to do this with. God you feel so huge! Fuuu. There. It – …it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. Feels…kinda good, actually, to be full.”
“I can start moving?”
“Fuck yeah,” he replies, getting bold.
I capture his mouth in my own and pull out before pushing back into his body, pressing him against the cool glass of the window. A groan spills from his throat as his ass pulls me in. His swollen cock poking into my stomach dribbles pre-cum down the shaft with every thrust.

I waited two years for him to be ready for intercourse. I used to curse the days I was horny and had nothing to put my dick in, but I’d just tell myself it’d be worth it one day to wait for him. He had to be ready, he had to be horny, he had to offer himself to me; if I rushed it, I would spoil the moment and it’d be lost forever. I’m so glad I waited. My virgin lover has become a man today, not because I was horny, but because he asked me to make him one. He is spread open and hard for me, and taking him is as sweet as I always feverishly fantasized it would be.

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Text is fictional. Photo comes from Mr. Jones Films, and the men are Brandon Jones And Dominic Pacifico. More pictures and trailers at an unofficial link here. Original website is flash, so I can’t direct link, but it’s here.

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As a child, Kevin always slept with a security blanket. He liked the soft fabric against his face, the reassurance of clutching something close. It protected him from monsters under the bed. After his father left quite suddenly, no one came to read him stories at night. Kevin began to carry the blanket everywhere until the time he hit puberty. His mother let him out of pity. Despite being teased for it, Kevin still kept it in his room even through high school. By college, it was falling apart. Kevin put it in a bag and stored it away, even though he missed it at night.

As a young man, Kevin came out and stared dating. His first serious boyfriend in his latter years of college wasn’t good to him. He slowly isolated Kevin from his friends and wrecked him emotionally, often getting violent with him. Kevin was too scared to leave him, and no matter of rough it got, he felt like he needed someone to cuddle with at night.

Until one day, his boyfriend broke Kevin’s cheek. A male nurse at the hospital became quite fond of his new patient and got a social worker involved to help stop cycle the abuse. It took weeks to pry them apart, and he convinced Kevin to get his boyfriend arrested. Kevin was happy it was over, although he had to sleep alone again. Even though he got counseling, he felt the urge to just find someone – anyone – so he wouldn’t have to be alone at night.

James knew he supposed to have a professional relationship with Kevin, but when Kevin asked to see him outside of the hospital he found himself wanting to go. Kevin was a bit of a mess, but he was sweet. He meant well. He loved to read and appreciated good food. The more they got to know each other, the more James began to worry Kevin was headed down the path of abuse again. He gravitated toward any guy who paid attention to him. He would often plead to James to stay the night, not even to have sex, just to sleep.

It wasn’t long before James pried out of Kevin the reason why he hated sleeping alone, his father, his childhood blanket… and why Kevin hated sex so much, because now he associated it all with his old boyfriend. It was hard for therapy to work for him with these distractions undoing his sessions every time he went to bed or got an erection. James did some research, hours of it matter of fact, and came up with a rather unorthodox solution.

“It’s not a blanket, really…,” he explained to a baffled-looking Kevin. “But you’ll always feel the cage there, like a hand around you at all time, but no one will be able to see it. I have the key to the lock. No one like that asshole will be able to touch you unless I approve that they’re good for you, and you don’t have to worry about anything sex related for a while. This way you can just focus on your therapy and healing. That’s all.”
Kevin needed some time to think about it, but he liked James and the liked the idea of being cared for by James. Despite his apprehension, he went for it, and took to it like a duck to water. When he needed some relief, Kevin just went to James, and James took care of it, like a nurse instead of a boyfriend.

As an adult, Kevin stayed in this sort of odd relationship for two years, the device on and off as the months went by. Various men came and went out of Kevin’s life. He was weaned off therapy. Got a “real” job in an office. Took up kayaking on the weekends. Moved out of an apartment and in with James in a small house in the suburbs.

On one particular beautiful morning out to sea, Kevin had a realization while he watched the sun rise over the horizon. He was looking forward to going home and eating brunch with James. Only James. He didn’t want other men. He wanted James, who had been so patient with him. He went beyond the call of his job title to heal him, who had been single this entire time… he had been waiting hadn’t he? Jeez, how did he not realize it?
Just the thought of James excited him. Kevin put a hand between his legs and felt the metal there so it would calm him down. Now wasn’t the time for masturbation, and gosh, even two years late he still thought the chastity cage was amazing. Kevin didn’t get why more men didn’t have one.

He turned his kayak back to shore, closer to where he’d get cell phone service. He wanted to call James and wake him up, ask him to date him, ask him if they could be serious. He knew James would say yes. After all, James had the key to his cock – why couldn’t it be the key to his heart as well?

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Text is fictional. Here’s a cheesy, sweet chastity post to start off the week. The source of the photo I do not think is the actual source listed on this post. I think it’s from here, a femdom participant on Tumblr.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

My boyfriend is adorable. He has a child-like fascination for arts, music, animals, nature. He enjoys a day at the zoo as much as a day at the museum. He’s not scared to try new foods or beers whose names he can’t pronounce or go to unfamiliar cities beyond the subway lines. We often spend entire days together, wandering from place to place, having little adventures instead of dates.

Thing is, my boyfriend has a moderate form of chronic fatigue syndrome. After our time together he often just simply cannot make it home or stand any longer. Instead of just calling him a cab and shoving him in, I lovingly carry him all the way back to the car or back to one of our flats. He clings to me like a koala, often falling asleep with his head nestled against my shoulder.

I’m proud to be his man. He told me his other boyfriends got bored and frustrated with his condition; he rarely left the house. The fact that I can make him smile and help him live a normal life is part of the reason I love him so much. He is so positive and optimistic, that I cannot help but be in a good mood around him. I don’t mind the stares of people as I carry my boyfriend down the street. I want them to know what love looks like, in any form.

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Text is fictional

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spacerobotfive:

A midday nap in his arms.

The room had originally been half sun-room, half parlor, a small walled off addition in his aunt’s Victorian-era apartment for visiting guests to drink tea and gossip. In these recent times, it housed storage, a collection of light hungry plants, and a small bed for over-night guests. It was our home now, and that little niche was our space. After Matt’s parents kicked him out for being gay, I ran away from foster care with him to his aunt’s home two hours away. Matt called her in tears; she immediately bought us a bus ticket and told us to get our butts on it. We arrived with a duffel bag each, hungry and exhausted, but holding hands and smiling.

She’d set us up in this tiny room and let us have our privacy. It wasn’t going to be easy. I needed to finish my GED since I failed my senior year; we needed to get our footing and pick a direction for us to go. My baby, Matt, I’m so proud of him though. He’s from a wealthy family and never had to want for anything, but the morning after we arrived he went and got himself a job serving at a diner. I knew it couldn’t have been easy on his pride, his confidence. Did I mention how much I love him? It’s hard to know at this age if “love” is “forever love” or just “stupid love”, but I think it’s a little of both.

Matt got back from working the early breakfast shift and went right to bed for a nap. He was so worn-out. I took a break from doing chores, intending to reward him for his hard work with slow, lazy sex, but he was already asleep. My poor Matt. I spoon up next to him, wiggling my arms around his shoulders.
“Hey,” he mutters, more of a grunt than anything, but the corner of his lip goes up.
“Sorry didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, kissing the back of his neck, “You’re so nice and warm though.”
“Mmm, itsh nice. Love you,” he smiles again, before drifting back off. It’s the beginning of a wonderful afternoon nap together, like two lazy cats in the sun. When he’ll stir a a couple hours later, I intend to greet him with lube and a condom and make slow love to him. Wake him up with my hand between his legs. He loves that, when he’s in just the right mood.

Of course, my chores might not get done in time, but we need to make sure we take time for each-other. I worry that we’ll become so obsessed with ‘making it’ on our own that we’ll lose focus of why we’re doing it. Matt is my reason. I am his. I sniff the back of his neck. It smells faintly of strawberry conditioner, diner coffee, and him. God, I love this boy. I hope this really is the start to the long, long story of us. 

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Text is fictional. Been trying to caption this picture for months and am pleased with the results.