Rubbed one out like this inhaling my ball sweat.
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@midwestsubboy
Rubbed one out like this inhaling my ball sweat.
One of my final posts before it all goes away. Eat it up, boys.
The collar is ready boys. Who wants it?
meeeeee, SIR!
Tips for getting what you want from a faggot.
1) Demand what you want
2) Take it
FICTION
When I left the gym to drive home, I discovered a stranger standing in front of my car. He had the look of a beta— that deer-like hesitancy and shrugged posture that most closet subs have. He didn’t see me approach and when I was within his line of sight he startled and froze.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked, opening the door and tossing my gear inside.
“No! I, Uh, I just was— I recognized this car and the plate and I, uh— I was walking and I saw it…” his voice trailed off.
I stepped closer to him, up onto the curb, just slightly within the sphere of personal space. I began to remove my lifting straps, looking him in the eye.
“I understand.” I said. He leaned back, eyes wide, unbreathing. “I guess the better question is what can you do for me?”
This sub is, by the way, unremarkable in appearance. A nice beard. Medium build. Unassuming In his averageness. A guy who is an accountant or an HR assistant. A good worker when well-led, and a lost sheep when not. You’ve seen a hundred of him today and a hundred more will cross your path tomorrow.
He looked down nervously, his vision now filled with nothing but my sweaty chest, the drenched tank top, and the methodical removal of my straps. Stammering: “I’ve wanted to.. talk to you… for a while, online, but I just wasn’t sure if you were real or not. And it’s kinda crazy that you’re here. And… real.” His face stayed down and his eyes tilted up to mine
“Here I am. Real.”
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I lifted my arm to reveal my soaked pit. Slowly, glacially slow, I dragged my hand up my pit, collecting a fresh sheen of sweat on my fingers. I reached out and wiped my palm across his beard, over his gaped mouth, watching his eyes widen further. The audaciousness of it. The invasion of his space.
I kept my hand lightly clasped over his mouth. “So,” leaning in to whisper, “what’re you going to do about it?”
From the caverns within him, buried beneath the mediocrity of his life, escaping from his limbic system and traveling through the strata of his repressed existence, came the most mournful whimper I have ever heard in my life.
“Attaboy”
I turned back to my car and prepared to get in. The door swung ajar and I looked back at him.
“The passenger side is unlocked. If you’d like to get your brain fucked, you’re welcome to get in.”
I don’t think his ears allowed him to hear me. His senses had abandoned him completely. He was the embodiment of shock. No movement. No sound. No breathing. A granite block. A planar escapist.
“Well, If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
And with that I pulled away.
We’ll see if he takes the plunge. The mediocre tend to get in their own way, so I won’t bet on him reaching out.
He sure has a bright future ahead of him if he does.
C’mon pup. Stop being cute and wagging your butt at me. We’ve got errands we need to get to. I’ll give your pussy a workout later, don’t worry.
My only media from Folsom StreetFair. Enjoy!
Oink, oink faggot.
Sweet dreams…
via weheartit
You’re nothing but an anonymous fuckhole, fag. See this and more on my onlyfans. @fagboikyle