Unbetitelt

[rawworld]

[sebb-berlin]

The first shock came when someone broke into Lee’s home on a Friday afternoon.

The second was when it became clear that the intruder didn’t want to take anything with him. What he wanted couldn’t be picked up and carried out the door. That would soon become clear.

The third was when Lee was forced to strip down to his underwear and hand his clothes over to the intruder, who took them and tossed them aside, his gaze roaming hungrily over the athletic beauty of his captive’s nearly naked body.

“Come on, man,” his victim began, “just give me back my clothes and leave and we’ll pretend you were never here.”

That was when the fourth shock hit him.

“Underwear off. Hand them to me.”

“Come on, man,” Lee pleaded, “I’m straight and…”

“I know. You’re straight and you’re going to get bred.”

That was the fifth shock. The word bred hit Lee like a freight train. But the intruder lost no time in issuing the sixth shock.

“It’s Friday. You’re mine for the weekend. You’re going to get bred many, many times and learn things you’ve never imagined. I’ve disconnected your landline phone and now you’re going to hand over your mobile. I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just appropriating you. I own you now. And I always look after what I own.

The young man gulped, captive in his own home and about to get bred — already the property of a complete stranger who’d chosen to own him.

“I can do this,” Lee thought to himself, trying to be brave. “I need to hold out until Sunday evening when he finally releases me from ownership. Now I get it: the thing he’s going to take is my anal virginity. And me.”

With a sigh, Lee pushed his underwear down his muscular, blonde, hairy legs and handed them over to his new owner, who approached him and startled him by fastening a black leather collar around his neck.

That would have been a pleasing end to this incident. But more shocks were to follow.

Later, while being bred and spanked, Lee got hard. Number seven.

When he felt his owner cumming inside him, he came. Number eight.

Number nine was more gradual. Lee was a straight man who had learned that girls he was interested in expected to be adored, admired, complimented on their beauty; they expected to be the object of attraction. He’d often noticed that women didn’t return these gestures, nor did they even seem to be aware of his good looks, of his beautifully athletic physique. It was very much a one-way street, but he’d always assumed that this was just how this stuff worked.

With his new owner it was different. His owner openly lusted after him and his body. Sometimes this desire was so intense, it was almost as though he wanted to eat Lee. He licked and kissed his body, growling with lust. While he was breeding him in the missionary position, he eagerly licked his legs, which he held firmly in place on his shoulders while he thrusted his manhood deep into him. Someone was finally manifesting love and hunger for Lee’s beautiful body. He was now the object of lust; he was being sexually objectified. He’d never received this kind of attention, and he was flattered by it, to the extent that he found himself wilfully complying with whatever he anticipated to be his owner’s desires to be. And there we have it: shock number nine. It took longer to set in, but number nine was the one that he would never forget.

Shock number ten was partly a consequence of number nine. During the weekend, he had pondered during his initial breedings how he would formulate what had been done to him when he finally contracted the police. As the weekend progressed, the when became an if. And by Sunday morning he’d decided, particularly in light of the fact that his owner had treated him well and caused him no harm whatsoever (his smarting buttocks after the frequent spankings didn’t count in his opinion), that he would not be contacting the police. He was appreciative of the way his owner had been treating him, and he was even starting to like his owner. Was it Stockholm Syndrome? He didn’t know, and he no longer cared.

Sunday evening came, and his owner was getting ready to leave. Lee reached up and felt his collar around his neck, confused by what was welling up inside him. His owner noticed and smiled with what could have been mistaken for affection.

“Are you releasing me from ownership now, Sir?” Lee asked, his voice faltering.

“That was the agreement,” his owner answered. The word agreement now no longer seemed unfitting, Lee thought. His owner watched his property carefully; Lee still had one hand on his collar. Lee’s owner had noticed that his property, despite being a straight man, had taken well to being owned. The intruder was about to say something, but decided to enjoy watching the dilemma his property was struggling with.

“Are… are you going to leave this on me, Sir?” he asked, moving his collar a little to show what he meant.

“No. When I remove it, you’ll be released,” he answered, still watching his property carefully.

His property swallowed several times before finally saying:

“You… you could stay another night… maybe leave tomorrow night instead…” he attempted.

“You have to work tomorrow. And so do I,” his owner replied, handing Lee’s mobile back to him.

“Yeah…” Lee answered halfheartedly, as he took back his mobile phone. He was finding it increasingly difficult to hide his disappointment. And he didn’t understand what he was now unable to ignore: he didn’t want to be released. He wanted to remain owned, at least for the time being.

But his owner was right. They both had jobs to go to and lives to get back to.

“Will you be coming back?” he asked, relieved that he had overcome his inhibitions and finally got the words out that he had been so reluctant to say.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Sir. I know I’m straight, and now I almost wish I wasn’t. It’s confusing, and maybe you could help me with that. But I want you to come back and own me again. I want you to collar me again. I want you to be my owner again. I want you to take your pleasure from me, and I want to work hard to give you whatever you want, Sir.” He swallowed, feeling a little overwhelmed by how it felt to be saying this to another man.

“When I first arrived and got you to strip and then collared you, you…”

“I know,” he cut in, surprising himself by interrupting his owner. “But I was wrong. You did what was right. It just took me a bit of time to realise that. You were exercising your ownership rights, and now I understand.”

He saw the look of delight on his owner’s face.

“Next Friday?” his owner asked.

“Next Friday,” Lee affirmed. His owner approached him and removed the collar, before adding: “Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in it. If you need to talk, I’m okay with that.”

Lee was relieved to hear that. His owner continued:

“Next Friday afternoon around five?”

His property nodded. “Next Friday at five, Sir.”

[megabootman]

[sebb-berlin]

It happens – more often than people think.

This is the case of Luca, a straight young prison warden who was in a happy relationship with his girlfriend. Luca's girlfriend liked his stunning good looks, his athletic, hairy body, his firm butt, his masculine charm… and she particularly loved her man's scent.

Yet… it happens. And it happened to Luca. It began with the confusion he felt when working at the prison every time he interacted with a tall, imposing prisoner of Nigerian origin. The prisoner was polite and attentive, yet something about his manner gave Luca a feeling he'd never had before. He felt intimidated, but it was a feeling he didn't find unpleasant. He increasingly found himself behaving towards the prisoner in a way verging on subservient. Every now and then, the prisoner would say something to Luca, usually something about Luca, while looking him straight in the eye, causing Luca to blush.

The prisoner talked about Luca's looks, and Luca let him. He talked about Luca's physique, and Luca blushed and let him. He asked Luca if he had a hairy chest, and Luca blushed and told him he did. He mentioned how firm Luca's butt was, and Luca was at a loss for words. Then came the question that took things up a notch: did Luca have a hairy butt? Luca nodded shyly.

"You'll have to show me sometime when we're alone," the prisoner said, clearly having no doubt that Luca would end up showing him his hairy butt. And Luca did. He had seen it coming. He had had to accompany the prisoner to the laundry area for some reason or other, and since it was otherwise deserted, the prisoner ordered Luca to drop his trousers and underwear and show him his hairy butt.

"I'm going to eat that," the prisoner said, approaching the beautiful hairy butt that was fully exposed, presented to him as requested.

The prisoner ate Luca. He spanked Luca's hairy buttocks while his face was buried in Luca's hairy crack, hungrily eating what Luca was offering him. Luca moaned, never having had this done to him before.

The prisoner stopped for a moment, retreated from Luca's hairy crack and declared:

"I own this now, you hear me?"

"Er… yeah…" Luca replied, as he felt the prisoner's face return to his hairy crack, marking it – marking Luca – as his.

Luca was overcome by the feelings caused by what the prisoner was doing to his hairy butt, and when the prisoner declared that he owned him, Luca came. The prisoner fed him his cum, and Luca let him – an act which gave Luca another hard-on.

"We're going to do this more often," the prisoner declared. "You're mine now."

Being owned by another man was confusing for Luca. He went into himself and could only confirm that he was still 100% straight. But the fact that the prisoner had taken ownership of him like this didn't feel abnormal in any way. He even found himself feeling proud that the prisoner had chosen him.

Over the next two weeks, the prisoner regularly feasted on Luca's hairy butt, spanking it and telling Luca that he was going to breed his hairy butt – breed Luca – at some point.

Again, Luca found the idea of being fucked by this man unnerving, yet he knew that he would let him. However he looked at it, it seemed like the only right thing to do.

Two weeks after the prisoner had first eaten Luca, the justice system ruled that the prisoner's sentence had been a miscarriage of justice; he was innocent and his immediate release was ordered with a payment of compensation.

Luca's immediate reaction was one of disappointment, and the prisoner noticed.

"I still own you," he reassured him. "And I'm going to continue eating you." He pushed a slip of paper into Luca's hand. "This is my address, and you're going straight there as soon as your shift is over. And I'm going to undress you and eat you," he declared.

Luca swallowed.

"Er… okay…"

"And before this day is over, I'm going to breed you. You're already mine, but this is one way of marking you as mine that is going to leave no doubt as to whose property you are. Who's your owner?"

"You are, Sir," Luca answered, feeling himself stiffen in his underwear.

"Good. See you later," the prisoner said, before turning and leaving.

Later on that afternoon, Luca got bred. He experienced having a cock in his mouth, swallowing a load and getting to taste sperm for the first time. He licked another man's armpits for the first time. He was kissed hungrily by another man who insisted on eye contact throughout. He realised that he would do anything his owner asked him to, and he had long-since stopped wondering how a straight man like him could find himself in this situation. He was honoured to be owned by the man who had chosen him, and he followed his inner need to demonstrate this to his owner whenever he could.

[theperfectkiss]

[sebb-berlin]

My teenage cousin had taken it quite badly when a date with a girl he’d been very keen on ended badly. She’d told him he had the looks, the body (from what she’d seen whenever he had his footy kit on and had taken his shirt off whenever he’d scored the winning goal), the personality… he had the charm — and was admired by most of their peers as a star on their college’s footy team.

“But you just can’t kiss,” had been the words of her crushing verdict after his first attempt.

Listen, I was the first one to take my cousin out to the park to play football with him when he was five. I was ten, but he looked up to me and I kept up our footy sessions until he was about ten and had joined a football club himself. He had a proper coach, was getting better and better. By the time he was 15, he was the one teaching his now 20-year-old cousin skills.

He was already turning into quite a hot young man that was turning heads, and I remember thinking that girls were probably falling over each other to get his attention.

The kiss tragedy, as he later called it, happened shortly after his 18th birthday. His self-confidence was shattered; I hardly recognised him. I’d never met the stupid bitch who’d done this to him, and I was certain that I never wanted to set eyes on her in the future.

I asked him if he would ever have said anything like that to her.

“No way!” was his immediate response.

“What would you have done instead?” I asked him.

“I think I would have turned it into a hot game, using it as a chance to kiss, showing her what feels good and what doesn’t and letting her practise on me,” he mused, saddened at the realisation that the girl he’d been mad over was just… a bitch.

“And that’s why she doesn’t deserve you,” I assured him.

“But I can’t go around asking girls to teach me how to kiss…” he began.

“You don’t need to,” I interrupted him. “I’m going to teach you. And I’m going to go on teaching you until you’re the best kisser around, besides me of course.”

He laughed. “Would you do that?”

“You bet I would! But it stays between us, okay?”

“Sure!” he answered eagerly.

“Come over here.”

I showed him a bad kiss. Then I showed him a good one, and he moaned as my tongue was in his mouth. He tasted good.

“Keep your eyes open, look into my eyes while I’m kissing you,” I told him. He had beautiful eyes.

“Shit,” he said at some point, pulling away briefly. “This is getting me hard.”

“That’s what happens when you kiss the way I’m kissing you,” I said, gesturing at the tent in my shorts. “Now, get back over here.”

Our kissing sessions became a regular thing. At some point, I think he’d learned everything I was able to teach him, but maybe he wanted to stay in practice. Or maybe he just enjoyed it.

We had a very special relationship, and our physical connection enhanced it. He often stayed over for the weekend, me using the opportunity to teach him loads more stuff. He’d always looked up to his older cousin, and now he was learning about male bonding, about intimacy and how it felt having his older cousin inside him.

[gazehaven]

Savangser

[thb671]

@thb671

[sebb-berlin]

He heard his name. He turned to look at the two mischievous-looking youths a few metres away who were engrossed in a lively conversation that seemed to be about cake. Every so often, they would turn to look at him furtively. Or at his buttocks. Then he heard the word breedable.

The straight young athlete approached the two young men and demanded to know what they were talking about. To his surprise, one of them turned to him answered him truthfully:

“We are talking about your cake, about how breedable it looks. And we both want to breed you.”

He was taken aback. The unashamed openness of the two young men had such a disarming effect on him that he ended up getting taken home with them.

They both bred him multiple times. Between his breedings, they took it in turns eating him, enjoying the cake, which was how they referred to his athletic, manly buttocks, taking it in turns to put him over their laps and spank him before one of them would get the urge to breed him again.

While eating him, spanking him or breeding him, they would talk to each other about his cake as though he wasn’t there. Sometimes they would even refer to his buttocks as our cake.

But to him, it certainly felt as though it belonged to them more than it belonged to him. And part of him even admired the predatory nerve of the two 18-year-olds, approaching a straight man who was several years older than them and being so over-persuasive that they were able to take him home and breed him multiple times.

“How do you feel?” one of them ask him later, as he lay there exhausted, naked and with multiple loads inside him and having swallowed at least one fed to him by each of them.

“Owned,” he answered, truthfully.

[unshavedman]

[sebb-berlin]

He’d tried to negotiate with his owner, worried that the chastity cage would impair his performance on the pitch.

His owner listened and showed understanding. Nonetheless, he assured the young, straight professional football player he’d now had ownership of for two months that he was welcome to appeal to his owner in situations like these, but that it was ultimately his owner who got to decide. Not him.

“I understand your point, but you will remain caged during the game, is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy. I’ll be sitting among the spectators, watching you play. I want you to look me directly in the eye during the game while gripping your cage in your hand.”

“On the pitch, Sir?!”

“Yes, boy. I want you to acknowledge your subservience to your owner.”

“Yes, Sir.”

[esox1975]

When you ahev just heard: Alex, this brush seems to look not dangerous, but give it to me a bend over my knees. I will show you how it works on your bare thighs.

[sebb-berlin]

Sir… the brush is a bit harsh, don’t you think? I mean… you’re in charge, and if you want to use the brush on me, then you should. But it will probably cause considerable skin injuries.

You have a point, boy. It would be a shame to cause real damage to those buttocks I’m so fond of, not to mention those beautiful blonde thighs. What do you suggest?

Well, you enjoy spanking me, Sir, and you know I like being over your lap and feeling your experienced hand warming my bottom up.

Well, you know how much I like your blonde footballer legs, Alex, and I’ll always jump at any opportunity to get my hands on that firm young bottom of yours.

I know. Whenever I'm over your lap, I feel the enjoyment you’re getting out of it while you’re spanking me, Sir.

Really? How?

Oh, Sir… I… I just can. But if you use your hand rather than the brush, it'll take you longer to redden me up and you’ll be able to enjoy my butt for much longer.

And you’d like that, boy?

I would, Sir. As long as you warm it up for me nicely. And make sure you send me away with a reddened bottom. I like feeling the effects of you having spanked me every time I sit down, but I love seeing your trademark reddening on my bottom as well, Sir.

OK, boy. You’ve convinced me — the hand it is. We certainly have plenty of time.

Shall I take my shorts off, Sir?

No, I’ll remove them for you. Up you get, and come and stand in fron of me. Leave your hands by your side.

[laleydeldeseo]

[2four-threesome]

Oh yeh cutie

[sebb-berlin]

I'd seen him a few times. He was a student at a local university, having turned 18 a few weeks before. Don't ask how I found that out.

His name was Leo. He was single, but he'd been on a few dates with a girl and was open to more dates to see where it went. He was definitely popular with the girls, especially when he was wearing shorts.

He regularly went jogging across rural terrain on the edge of town that was mostly deserted. I never normally went there, but there was no harm in seeing new places and going for a jog.

My jogging sessions across that terrain became regular. I think he barely noticed me, although I certainly noticed him, wearing those brief shorts that showed off his beautiful hairy legs, covered in blonde leg hair that captured the sunlight. I marvelled at his calves, at his delicious blonde thighs… and remembered a teacher back in my school days once telling me: "You can't always have what you want." The thing is, there are some things you're really not supposed to have, and yet it turns out you can have them anyway.

One thing going for me is that I'm good at catching people unaware, and I'm quick. He barely knew I was on him before I was standing there facing him, clutching his shorts in my fist after having pulled them down and off his beautiful blonde legs. He'd tried to hold on to them, but his attempts amounted to too little too late.

He was left standing, wearing only his trainers and ankle socks – and otherwise completely naked, staring at the man who had just stripped him of his shorts and underwear. Something about having been stripped by me like that appalled him, but going by the way his cock was plumping up very slightly, there was clearly something about it that appealed to him. I looked at his beautiful face, and when he looked back at me, the way my eyes bored into his enhanced his semi-erection.

"My… my shorts," he started, looking down at where they hung, gripped firmly in my clenched fist. When he saw my fist tighten its grip on his shorts, demonstrating that I had no intention of giving him his shorts back, that I was going to keep him naked for as long as I wanted… well, that caused a full-on erection. And by now it was throbbing.

He was naked because I'd stripped him. And he was going to remain naked because that was what I wanted, and he could see I was clearly enjoying it.

He saw the grin spread across my face and he followed my gaze down to his crotch. When he saw his throbbing erection, he was shocked, blushing in embarrassed confusion.

"It's okay, Son," I assured him. "You don't understand it, and if I were you I wouldn't even try. But, whether or not you accept it, there's part of you that likes the fact that I've stripped you and that right now I'm keeping you naked."

As he listened, wide-eyed, his cock throbbed as if to confirm what I was saying.

"Give me my shorts back…" he started, halfheartedly, before I interrupted him.

"And we can test that. You're going to remain naked for as long as I want to keep you naked."

His cock throbbed again and a trace of precum appeared, providing us both with results that could only lead to one conclusion.

He didn't like it, yet he liked it. And he certainly didn't like the fact that he liked it. He was lost for words.

"Right now you're under my control. Your body belongs to me. You belong to me," I said, adding a little epilogue to our experiment.

His foreskin started to pull back a little of its own accord, the precum increasing. We were staring each other down, but I kept getting distracted by the movements of his excited cock. I smiled when I saw how copious the precum was becoming. He looked down again briefly and looked back up at me. His expression was priceless: a delectable combination of anger, confusion, embarrassment and disarming arousal – although he wasn't exactly sure what it was that was appealing to him.

"Listen, Son…" I began, seeing him look back at me, betraying his will to appear unassailable, his youthfully vulnerable eyes revealing the yearning for mature, fatherly guidance, the hope I would provide him with answers to the questions now plaguing his young and impressionable mind.

"You're young and straight. But right now, I own you. And you like being owned by me. You don't know why, but you like it. When I look into your eyes, I see a young man who's willing to trust me, knowing that I'm not going to do you any harm. I just want to assume ownership of you for a few hours – maybe a couple of days."

"Days?" he exclaimed, finding his voice again. I loved the way he didn't even react to the concept of being owned by me; he just questioned the how long I would be owning him for.

"Yeah. Listen, it's Friday afternoon now and I'm going to take you home and own you for the whole weekend – keep you as my property. I'll take you back to your student dorms on Sunday afternoon or evening, depending on when you want to be back. I'll take very good care of you. Can you see over there behind you…? No, further to the right… you can start walking towards that blue Volkswagen Golf. I'm keeping hold of your shorts and I'll be right behind you."

He looked behind him and spotted my car. He turned back to look at me briefly, and without a word he started walking towards the car, me following close behind him, marvelling at his youthfully pert young buttocks covered in peach fuzz, lightly hairy between the delicious globes of his buttocks which I would be exploring – and seeding – later.

When we arrived at my place, he used the Smartwatch he had on his left wrist to send a text message to his friends at the dorm to say he'd be away for a couple of nights.

Leo was a remarkable young man. I broke him in slowly, as you have to with straight men. I'm not just talking about the first time I fucked him. I used gentle psychological persuasion to install a feeling within him that he'd consented to becoming my temporary property. In fact, he ended up enjoying doing whatever it took to please me. He glowed with pride when I called him a good boy. He got pleasure out of doing what he was told. He relished the sense of achievement he got from finding out what it was I particularly liked and performing those acts without being asked to do so. One example was how he would approach me on the sofa, lift my arm and bury his face in my sweaty, hairy armpit and start licking my sweaty pits lovingly, all the time looking into my eyes. He started calling me Sir without having being asked to. And on one occasion, he admitted that he had only just managed to stop himself calling me Daddy by mistake. I assured him that he was welcome to call me Daddy if he wanted to. He thought about it for a moment and admitted that he'd like that.

He loved being carried by me, being flung over my shoulder and carried around. And he remained hard almost the entire weekend, most notably whenever we talked about him being my property, me being his owner, about me only taking what is mine whenever I took pleasure from his body. He got hard whenever I said good boy, whenever he called me Sir or Daddy, when he sensed that his body belonged to me and not to him, when I spanked him, when I fucked him. And when he got bred, he came as soon as he felt my load erupting inside him.

We talked a lot. We talked about what all this was, and he shared a lot, which helped him deal with it. But we also talked about life and the world we live in. I continued to win his trust and was damned if I was going to abuse that.

On Sunday morning, as he lay there on his stomach, freshly bred and wanting to keep my load inside him, he thanked me for taking charge and assuming ownership of him.

"It was the right thing to do," he said quietly.

On Sunday afternoon, I mentioned that it was time to take him home.

"Sir… you said I could stay until the evening if I wanted," he said hesitantly.

"I'd like that, Son. But it'll cost you," I said, sitting down and patting my lap. I had been expecting him to come and sit on my lap for a bit of dad-and-son talk, but instead, he took off his shorts and underwear, handed them to me and laid himself down over my lap for another spanking.

I was very possessive of him, and he sensed it. And he liked it. He knew that my possessive demeanour was coupled with a strong desire to protect him. And, after all, he had only just turned 18.

I took him home on Sunday evening. We exchanged a long French kiss in the car before he thanked me for everything, got out and walked up the path to his dorm building, wearing just the shorts and trainers he'd been wearing on Friday afternoon when I'd assumed ownership of him.

On Thursday afternoon I received a text message:

Sir, will be jogging in same place tomorrow. What if someone else tries to assume ownership of me?

That won't happen, Son. I own you. And you're not up for grabs.

Of course, I was there on Friday afternoon. I'd parked my car elsewhere, somewhere where he wouldn't find it. And I hid. He didn't see me until I was on him. And before he knew it, he was standing there again, staring at his shorts, in the firm grip of my clenched fist.

"Sir… what are you going to do to me, Sir…?" he asked, a little overcome with excitement. I think he'd imagined I wouldn't be coming.

"I'm going to make you do as you're told, Son. Now… turn around and put your hands behind your back – I'm going to tie you up. Don't try anything funny."

By the time his wrists were bound firmly behind his back, I briefly noted that his cock was fully erect – before slinging him over my shoulder and carrying him to my car.

Mine. All mine. Again.

[esox1975]

When your Girlfriend wants to make an impression on her friends keeping you smartly dressed.

[sebb-berlin]

Her friends were very enthusiastic about your legs. Less so about the shorts.

“Too long!”

“Yeah, and too baggy!”

Between them, they made the adjustments they deemed to be necessary. Your girlfriend warned you not to be any trouble.

Your girlfriend was thrilled with the results!

You were less enthusiastic.

“They’re going to be shorter than my blazer! When I’ve got my blazer on, people are going to think that I haven’t got any shorts on!”

“Don’t be silly, Alex. Put your blazer on and let’s have a look. And take those socks off. We’re going to get you some ankle socks.”

“Why?”

“They’re unnecessary. For the time being just take them off. We want you with bare legs.”

Your girlfriend couldn’t have looked happier. And when you did as you were told and removed your socks and put on your blazer, she looked like she was going to faint.

[esox1975]

Why are you so shy, Alex?

Sis, I am still in shorts.

Good for you and your discipline.

Yeah, especially when you will see me bending over the chair.

Alex, it was your own fault...

Yeah, your idea about traditional values, too.

Dad purchased a new tawse for you and Mum will abbreviate all your short trousers, too.

What?

Alex, bare thighs must be accessible and well visible.

[sebb-berlin]

Later on, after Alex’s shorts had been altered, his stepsister wanted to see.

Come on, Alex. Let me have a closer look.

Oh Alex, you were already the centre of attention, but you’re going to top that now.

Stop touching my bare thighs, for God’s sake…

Come on, you can hardly blame me with thighs like that.

You’re my sister!

Stepsister! Anyone can tell by just looking at us.

That still doesn’t make it okay for you to have your eager hands all over my bare legs.

Stop all the fuss, unless you want me to discipline you. You know I will. And you know I want to.

[shortsguy69yours]

[sebb-berlin]

Putting things right.

[esox1975]

Alex, put this jacket on, I want to see if your trousers are not too long.

Jane, they are midthigh.

It is true, but shorter will be better for you.

[sebb-berlin]

Shorter than this?!

Alex, they’re barely above the knee!

How exposed do want me to be?

When I said that I want you to have bare legs all the time, that also meant having bare thighs. Now, take this pair and try them on.

A few minutes later…

Let’s have a look… very nice… turn around… very nice, Alex.

[dures-annees]

Les craintes avouées n’apportent pas toujours le réconfort espéré.

– C’est nul que le prof de maths rende toujours les évals le vendredi ! Si t’as pas la moyenne, tu pourras quand même sortir samedi ?

– Tu connais pas mon père ! Si j’ai pas la moyenne, mon cul va faire tellement mal que je pourrai pas mettre un slip avant lundi !

– T’as pas besoin de slip ! T’as une bite minuscule ! Même si tu bandes sous ton short, personne la verra ! Tu veux mettre un slip pour faire le bonhomme ?

English translation in the notes ↓

[sebb-berlin]

Mais toi, t’as pas de problèmes en maths, t’as rien à craindre.

Je t’avais dit, si tu veux, tu viendras chez moi et je te donnerai des leçons particulières. Après, toi non plus, t’en auras rien à craindre.

Ouais… je te connais, tu veux juste lecher mes jambes poilues et me donner des fessées chaque fois que…

Et alors ?! Tu préfères te faire fesser par ton père ?!

Non, sûrement pas…

Alors ! Et en plus, tu finiras avec des bonnes notes !

D’accord…

OK. On commence tout de suite ! Mes parents sont partis quelques jours. Tu passeras un coup de fil à tes parents pour qu’ils sachent où tu es. Mais dès maintenant tes jambes sont à moi ! Dis-le-moi !

Oui oui, mes jambes sont à toi.

It’s okay for you — you’re good at maths. You’ve got nothing to fear.

I told you before, you can come to my place and I’ll give you tuition. Then you won’t have anything to fear either.

Yeah, I know you — you just want to lick my hairy legs and spank me every time I…

So what?! Would you rather get spanked by your dad?!

No way…

You see? And you’ll even end up with good grades.

Okay…

We’ll start straight away. My parents are away for a few days. You can give yours a ring to let them know where you are. But from now on your legs are mine. Say it to me!

Yeah okay, you own my legs.

[sebb-berlin]

Gegenstand: Die Fußmatte Seltenheit: ⏶ Häufig

Welches Spiel fühlt sich für dich immer wie „Zuhause“ an?

Füttere dein Dashboard und beantworte meine Frage, Blogger.

Spanking. OTK.

Beine lecken, wenn sie schön sind.

[spndxjck2]

[sebb-berlin]

Just look at it: muscular, breedable, deliciously clenched… as though it was challenging me not to get hard, not to take it here and now.

Last night I had it all to myself. Damn, it was good. There’s something so empowering about fucking a straight man, inseminating him, breeding him to mark him as mine, spanking him to show who’s in charge, and watching him go from shock and resistance to grudgingly compliant submission.

There’s nothing for it: I think I’m going to have him again tonight.

Don’t you just love it when straight men let you put them in their place?

[esox1975]

So your Parents keep you in shorts all the time?

Tom, don't ask. You should know it being here.

Alex, don't be rude. Your Parents are gone, but I have received your Father's tawse for use.

Yeah, my bare thighs are begging for this for sure!

Bend over, lad. I have enough of your complains.

[sebb-berlin]

But I haven’t even done anything wrong! Tom, you were just looking for the first excuse to get your hands all over my bare thighs and to give me a spanking…

You’re not entirely wrong about that. Now get over here, Alex!

Later…

Thanks Tom.

For what?

For spanking me… I mean… for using your hand to spank me. I was worried that you’d want to try out the tawse.

I get more of a feeling for the intensity when I have my hands on your bare buttocks, Alex. The tawse is just a last resort in case you’re not compliant.

But I did as I was told, right?

You did. You’re a good boy. And without anything in my hands I have the freedom to enjoy your bare legs.

Yeah… I think I noticed that, Tom.

Alex… how do you feel about spending a whole weekend with me at my place? Maybe this coming weekend?

I’d like that, Tom. You probably want me in those shorts, right.

Dead right.

[theperfectkiss]

[sebb-berlin]

My teenage cousin had taken it quite badly when a date with a girl he’d been very keen on ended badly. She’d told him he had the looks, the body (from what she’d seen whenever he had his footy kit on and had taken his shirt off whenever he’d scored the winning goal), the personality… he had the charm — and was admired by most of their peers as a star on their college’s footy team.

“But you just can’t kiss,” had been the words of her crushing verdict after his first attempt.

Listen, I was the first one to take my cousin out to the park to play football with him when he was five. I was ten, but he looked up to me and I kept up our footy sessions until he was about ten and had joined a football club himself. He had a proper coach, was getting better and better. By the time he was 15, he was the one teaching his now 20-year-old cousin skills.

He was already turning into quite a hot young man that was turning heads, and I remember thinking that girls were probably falling over each other to get his attention.

The kiss tragedy, as he later called it, happened shortly after his 18th birthday. His self-confidence was shattered; I hardly recognised him. I’d never met the stupid bitch who’d done this to him, and I was certain that I never wanted to set eyes on her in the future.

I asked him if he would ever have said anything like that to her.

“No way!” was his immediate response.

“What would you have done instead?” I asked him.

“I think I would have turned it into a hot game, using it as a chance to kiss, showing her what feels good and what doesn’t and letting her practise on me,” he mused, saddened at the realisation that the girl he’d been mad over was just… a bitch.

“And that’s why she doesn’t deserve you,” I assured him.

“But I can’t go around asking girls to teach me how to kiss…” he began.

“You don’t need to,” I interrupted him. “I’m going to teach you. And I’m going to go on teaching you until you’re the best kisser around, besides me of course.”

He laughed. “Would you do that?”

“You bet I would! But it stays between us, okay?”

“Sure!” he answered eagerly.

“Come over here.”

I showed him a bad kiss. Then I showed him a good one, and he moaned as my tongue was in his mouth. He tasted good.

“Keep your eyes open, look into my eyes while I’m kissing you,” I told him. He had beautiful eyes.

“Shit,” he said at some point, pulling away briefly. “This is getting me hard.”

“That’s what happens when you kiss the way I’m kissing you,” I said, gesturing at the tent in my shorts. “Now, get back over here.”

Our kissing sessions became a regular thing. At some point, I think he’d learned everything I was able to teach him, but maybe he wanted to stay in practice. Or maybe he just enjoyed it.

We had a very special relationship, and our physical connection enhanced it. He often stayed over for the weekend, me using the opportunity to teach him loads more stuff. He’d always looked up to his older cousin, and now he was learning about male bonding, about intimacy and how it felt having his older cousin inside him.

[dures-annees]

Quand les parents s’égarent, les enfants s’y perdent.

– Mes parents me font trop marrer ! Ils m’ont menacé de me mettre une cage de chasteté l’année prochaine si je continuais à être dissipé en cours ! Je vois pas le rapport !

– Moi non plus mais ça me gêne pas ! Tant que j’ai accès à tes fesses, c’est le principal ! Ils peuvent t’enfermer le reste !

[sebb-berlin]

When parents err, their children are left puzzled.

My parents make me laugh. They’ve threatened to lock me in a chastity cage next year if I don’t start paying attention in class. What does me being distracted have to do with locking my junk up?

Who cares?! As long as I have full access to your butt — that’s all that matters to me. They can lock up the rest.