Older And Younger Gay - Tumblr Posts

"Hey man, c'mon," you said, backing away, "I said I'd strip down so you could help me figure out a workout plan. So why are we down her-"

His hand caught your wrist. His grip was so tight and strong. His big, hairy hand tightened around your skinny arm. It was warm where he gripped you. You spluttered. What had you been saying? You remembered feeling the same way when you'd bumped into him in the locker room, right before you'd agreed to come over. It was kind of odd you'd come to a random guy's house, but it had been hard to say no. You'd said you had plans with your boyfriend to go to your work promotion party, but he'd told you you'd have plenty of time to do what you wanted. You'd felt the same way right after he'd bumped into you and asked you to flex for him in the locker room, and then again right after he gripped your bicep in the living room and you agreed to strip down while he sat back in his armchair, watching, and then told you to go into the basement. I mean, he was so hot. It had been hard to say no.

His other hand went to your waist a moment later. The arm you'd raised to push him away instantly lowered. It felt good to have those big, strong hands on you. So good. Before he'd only brushed up against you or tapped you, but now he was holding you tight in his big hands and you felt that familiar feeling from the locker room and his living room: a strange desire to obey him. But why? But even questioning why made you uncomfortable suddenly. He wouldn't like you thinking that way. "Why" didn't matter. What mattered was his deep brown eyes, what mattered was that such a strong, handsome man had thought you worthy to talk to, to look at, to touch. Of course he could touch you if he wanted- you wanted it too.

His hands moved over you. You leaned into them. You wanted more of his touch. The more he touched you, the more you wanted to obey him, and so you leaned in, deeper and deeper, letting his touch draw you further and further under his control and wanting it to because the more he touched you, the more you wanted him to touch you and the better it felt and the more you understood that he needed to be obeyed. Trapped in a snowballing cycle of pleasure, the part of you that wanted to resist slowly quieted. Resisting didn't feel good. But obeying felt so, so good, until you wanted to let go completely and be his. It made you happy to obey him, to do as he pleased. It was as simple as that. He was a man, and you were a boy- no- what were you thinking-

"Quiet, boy," he said, pushing you against the wall, stepping closer, hot breath on your face. His hands began to run up your sides, "You're my little wife now. From now on, you live to please me. To serve me," he said, hands brushing over your nipples. His influence was overwhelming you with his full hand now running over your smooth, skinny body. "I've been wanting to wife up a skinny little twink like you. I need someone to take care of things around here. The cooking, cleaning, sucking my cock whatever I want, you know, usual wife duties. I figured it would be real easy to break you down into a servant. To make you forget you were the man, after all, you’re not much of one. Are you, boy?”

The change was so sudden you didn't have time to process it. By time he touched your shoulders, everything he said was true and you were leaning forward instead of backing away, hands raising to grip his thick toned thighs. His strong quads bulged under your grip. There was nothing left of you or your old life, just a desire to please him; an overwhelming desire that seeped into everything you knew. You wanted everything you did to please him. To let him dictate your every move, so long as you knew he was happy. That was what mattered now. You stared lovingly into his eyes, leaning forward to kiss your husband. The man you lived to serve happily. His stubble brushed against your smooth face while you kissed him; it was a mix of pain and pleasure that just made it more addictive. His hands explored your body still, turning your brain to jelly, leashing your free will. They slid over your smooth, skinny, feminine body, sending a rush through you.

You stared at him. He was so beautiful, so strong, so manly, so deserving of your worship. You felt ashamed that you had felt differently just moments ago as you stared at his dark, thick hair, his muscles, his dominating stare. You hadn't meant to think like that. He deserved to know he was a God. To be treated like one. To know he could have you whenever he wanted. An urge to make it up to him overwhelmed you. You had to set it right- had to show him how much he meant to you. You wanted him to know how eager and happy you were to do as he commanded. How far you'd go for him, how devoted you were, how he was your priority now.

"You like that, wifey?"

"Yes daddy; I love being your smooth hairless wife."

"That's right. That's how a wife should be. Smooth and hairless. Totally hairless, all the time. That's the type of stuff you'll be focused on now."

"Yes sir," you said eagerly, nodding, "Yes sir, I'll make sure I'm smooth for you all the time," you said, speaking so fast that you almost tripped over your words. You wanted him to see that you were ready to please him. To do as he said. "I'll stay smooth all the time, sir, so that whenever you want to grab me and use me, I'm ready. That's my duty now, sir."

"That's right boy. You're the wife, and i'm the man," he said, gripping you by the back of the head. He pushed your face into his hairy pecs. You exploded in ecstacy, licking and slurping all over them; shaking your head back n forth. You pulled into him, feeling his hairy, meaty pecs, so manly and opposite of you. Your mind exploded with fantasies; curling up against his hairy pecs while you slept at night, rubbing your face in them, getting lost in the bushy muscle, feeling that warm fuzzy coarse hair on your face; sucking on them after his workout, all nice and sweaty; washing them in the shower. His happy trail brushed against your stomach. Your mind turned to where it led and you pulled in closer, feeling ripples of pleasure run up you from where his thick hair scratched your skin.

"Thats my boy," he cooed in your ear. It was like a drug to know you pleased him. He was a man. You lived to please big strong men like him now. You felt so lucky he had chosen you. "Tonight we're going to shave you down completely. Legs, pits, that peach fuzz on your arms and face, hole, pubes."

"Make me totally smooth, sir, please" the words flowed from your lips before you could stop them. You wanted it so bad now that he'd said it. You wanted him to know how badly you wanted to do it; for him. To let him take and transform you into what he wanted. You wanted to do it so badly you began to sob a little. Please sir, take me. Make me yours." You wanted him to take you, shave you down, remove any lingering traces of masculinity from you. To shave away your hair and your old life all at once. You felt your cock getting hard picturing him transforming you. He was the alpha, the masculine one; your job was to be the bitch.

"Oh I will wifey. Just calm down and be patient." You felt yourself do so immediately. "We have a couple things that we need to take care of first," he said, moving your hand to his warm, pulsing cock. "This is what matters to you now," he said, rubbing your hand in a circle on it. Your mind swooned and vision blurred. It was so thick, so warm. The power coming off of it made his hands seem like nothing.

"You don't remember because I made you forget, but you told me you and your boyfriend- well, ex-boyfriend now, were pretty vanilla. That you didn't like to do 'freaky' stuff," he said with a smile creeping across his face, "But you know what I think?"

"What, sir?" you asked, hanging on his every word.

"I think you want nothing more than to do freaky shit, and that you're just ashamed to admit it," he said leaning in, his breath hot on your ear. "I think that's why you're so nervous and tense, boy." He ran his hands up your sides again, sending another shudder through you. No- that stuff was for frea- fr... fr........ His hands rested on your shoulders and he gently massaged them, sending waves of pleasure like hot water down you, making both your muscles and mind more pliable. His voice sounded deeper, more echoing, more important than ever as he massaged you.

"I think you never had a real man who you could break free with; one who can melt all that shame away that controls you. One who you could be a good little slut for- who you have no choice but to be a little slut for," he whispered in your ears.

You nodded slowly as he massaged you still, eyes fluttering. Who were you kidding? You'd do anything this man said now. Your cock stiffened at the thought of letting him fuck you all kinds of ways. You wanted to swallow his cum, lick his sweat- even- you shuddered internally at the thought- drink his piss- but his words were reconfiguring your desires more and more every moment, and you went from shuddering in embarrassment to thinking of how delicious his warm, golden piss would taste. How you wanted him to cum all over your face, in your mouth, up your ass; how that was what you'd always wanted: to be a dirty little whore for a real man like him. You pulled in closer to him now, fully his, smiling mischievously. He smiled back, his big, hairy hands moving up & down and tightly gripping your ass now. You pulled in as close as you could to him, kissing up and down his neck obsessively while you smiled at him. Every second of contact with him was ecstacy.

The thought of how he'd turned you from hesitant to desperate

Your hand was still firmly gripping the bulge in his black underwear, feeling it get harder, bigger, more powerful by the second. He smiled at you looking pleased and satisfied, which incited you further. In his head he was laughing, mocking you, impressed at how easy it had been to enslave you, but in your stupor you took it as approval as your hand began to stroke his cock through his underwear. Your eues fluttered as you dropped to your knees, and the next moment his hands were pulling his briefs down and his cock popped out, hitting you in the face. He laughed at you and you laughed with him. It had been so heavy. You took it into your mouth dutifully and he rubbed a hand through your hair, sending shivers down your spine and making you inhale deeply. You got a huge whiff of his sweaty balls and it sent you into overdrive, slurping on his dick obediently. His sweat smelled delicious. You were getting drunk off the scent, sucking deeper and deeper, gagging on him but barley noticing.

"That's a good boy," he said, gripping your ass tightly. "And to think, you were hesitant just a few minutes ago," he aid with a laugh.

You laughed back. "That wasn't me," you said, still laughing. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I don't know what came over me," you said, his cock still in your mouth. It felt so long ago that you'd backed away from him. Had you had a life before you met him? It was hard to remember now. But wasn't there something you were supposed to do? Something important you had to get to...? You thought hard, then remembered. You had to get to his kitchen. Had to serve him. He needed his dinner made soon. You sucked him more intensely and eventually he stiffened and a sweet warmth filled your mouth.

More memories flooded you, overwriting your own. You'd been making him his dinners for as long as you could remember, being his slut as long as you could remember... yeah that was right. The hot load dripping down your throat was helping you remember. He backed away towards the bathroom. "Over here, boy," he said, but you didn't need any persuading; there was still cum on the edge of his dick and you wanted it all. You crawled to keep up with him, keeping his dick anchored in your mouth, licking and sucking every drop. You remembered more and more. A drop spilled on the floor and before you knew what you were doing you were pressing your tongue to the ground, licking it up before you latched back onto his cock, crawling to keep up with him. You couldn't waste a drop.

He pulled you up to a mirror in the bathroom. "What do you see, boy?"

"I see a dark, hairy, muscledaddy and his pale, smooth, skinny wife" you said dazedly, lost in the image. It looked so perfect, like it was the most perfect thing you could imagine. Thank God he'd bumped into you in the gym. Thank God he'd taken you home and transformed you. Nothing you had going could beat this, the feeling of standing next to your true Master, knowing you might have another chance to worship him any moment. Knowing he had total control over you, knowing he could give any order and you'd follow. It was so freeing. You didn't have to think anymore; you just had to obey. You'd always been determined- always looking for approval in work and promotions and school, but now you'd focus all that effort and determination on what mattered: him, his cock, letting him fuck you every day, making his dinner while he relaxed. Feeding him his dinner; sucking his cock under the table while he watched TV ignoring you as he ate; worshipping and rubbing his toes while he ate; all the possibilities rolled through your mind. Finishing the night off I bring him his dessert and giving him a nice foot rub well he relaxed. After that, you let him take you to bed and fuck you until he collapsed onto you, shooting his load up your ass or wherever he wanted; falling asleep with his cock still in you, crushing you down, but you loving every second of it-

You felt a rush and came like you never had before. You shaked and convulsed, which got even more intense as he placed his big hand on the back of your head and fluffed your hair. You buried your face into his hairy stomach, his pubes, rubbing it back and forth and letting his dark, coarse hair scrape over your face while you jerked and convulsed for a full minute, cum streaming from your cock.

When it was over, you just gazed at him lovingly in the mirror until a phone rang. You thought it looked familiar for a moment, but then realized you had never seen it before. It said "Boyfriend <3"was calling.

"That's weird, do you know who this is?" he asked.

"No."

"Good boy."

And they lived happily ever after.