Warning: They say in quantum physics that there are some particles which – for reasons unkown – change their behaviour once they are being observed. I would argue that if your taste lies in that direction, knowing about the theory of autogynephilia changes you forever.

It can change your relationship with your sexuality, affect your self image, your identity, and your perception of your own gender. Therefore, if you’re quite happy with where you are now, leave this site. If you want to explore your deeper female self… continue reading.

What is Autogynephilia?

Human sexuality is diverse. There are boys who like girls, and women who like punishment, and men who like animals, and girls who like girls, and women who like men, and boys who like boys. Amongst this wide range of tastes and desires is one known as autogynephilia – in which a man is sexually aroused at the idea of being a woman.

Almost certainly, autogynephilia is a behavioural disposition that is genetically inherited, meaning nobody chose to be an autogynephiliac, or was made into one by some family member dressing them up like a girl, or any other type of early life event.

Autogynephilia has three principal forms:

  1. Anatomical: the man desires to have a vagina or another part of the female anatomy (or a complete female body.)
  2. Transvestic: the man likes to dress as a woman.
  3. Behavioural: the man likes to act like a woman.

In some cases, the three types co-exist.

Another important characteristic of autogynephilia is that it usually co-exists with other sexual tastes and dispositions – often heterosexuality. In other words a person is rarely a pure femephiliac who can only get turned on by thinking of themselves as a woman.

One final aspect of autogynephilia that is notable is that it is not static; it can wax and wane in a person’s life, depending on their life circumstances. For example, it is common for a first time father and husband to experience a lowering of his femephiliac drive. At the other end, however, all autogynephiliacs should be aware that what you consider a purely sexual phenomona has the potential to develop into transsexualism – usually in middle age.

So, is autogynephilia some kind of precursor of transsexualism?

It is believed by many that all late onset transsexuals have a history of cross gender arousal (this is a neutral term for auto-g; for reasons you will soon encounter no one in the transgender community uses the term auto-g). However… only a small proportion of autogynephiliacs go on to transition or seek sex reassignment surgery. NOTE: This does not mean they choose to transition for sexual reasons.

The problem with autogynephilia

The theory of autogynephilia was an important development in sexology because before its formulation many men were incorrectly labelled as transvestites or transsexuals when they were in fact engaging in autogynephiliac behaviour.

The problem, though, is that the sexologist who coined the term and made this helpful observation, Ray Blanchard, then corrupted it by attempting to correlate autogynephilia with transsexualism. Then he created a bizarre system to classify different types of transsexual based on whether they had homo or heterosexual tendencies. Sounds weird, right? It is. While it is certainly true that some transsexuals have autogynephiliac sexuality the relationship between the two is far from understood.

Not surprisingly, when the transsexual community discovered a theory which seemed to suggest that they were not women trapped in men’s bodies but men seeking a sexual thrill at pretending to be women, they were not flattered.

Therefore, the term autogynephilia now had two heavy loads to carry: its theoretical difficulties (i.e. it just didn’t make sense to anyone except Blanchard himself to add the classification system) and raging controversy in the transgender community.

It is for these reasons that I believe the use of the term is simply untenable. How can we, in our discourse on transsexual and crossdreamer sexuality, use a term which many transsexuals and crossdreamers find deeply offensive? It doesn’t matter if, in some academic or scientific way, you could somehow prove it was the correct term (which you can’t). The goal of language is to communicate and what is being communicated by this word to the LGBT community is not a useful sexological term but an offensive label.

In this program, therefore, I have chosen to refer to the sexual arousal which autogynephilia referred to as… femephilia.

Autogynephilia versus femephilia, and… is there any difference?

  • The most important difference between the two terms is that femephilia refers only to sexual behaviour, but makes no claim to understand its cause or deeper consequences. Therefore, while femephilia may be part of some deeper female self, or a purely sexual phenomena, or a precursor of late onset transsexuality, it is impossible to know. Therefore, femephilia only refers to the sexual desire for femininity and its resulting sexual activity, and nothing else.
  • Autogynephilia referred to the love of oneself as a woman (auto – refers to oneself.) I believe it is necessary to drop the ‘auto’ because firstly, it rings too much of its predecessor ‘autogynephilia’ and transgender people will immediately be against it.More importantly, though, it is a simplification to talk of femephiliac sexuality always projecting the self into the female position. Femephiliac desire takes many forms, including sexual attraction to women and sexual attraction to objects of femininity. Although, on a sub conscious level, a femephiliac may be sexually attracted to a woman because he finds the idea of looking like her sexually exciting, it is rarely experienced like that by the conscious mind and there is genuine emotional and sexual desire for the woman. That is why I have not opted for ‘autofemephilia’: it does not capture the full complexity of femephilia.

Femephilia is, therefore, an erotic love of femininity (as opposed to a heterosexual love of females) and I will leave it at that. It is a huge, wide open term that allows for the fact that many femephiliacs like to have sex with women and men, they get sexual pleasure of thinking of themselves as women, and often have an erotic interest in the accoutrements of femininity – clothes, glamour, jewellery etc.

I will finish by repeating what I said in the introduction. I am not trying to coin a term or be clever (if I was I would think up something less obvious) I simply don’t want to use Blanchard’s term because it is like a dilapidated, sick donkey laden down with so much baggage it won’t take you anywhere. I need something fresher and femephilia is the easiest one I can get my hands on.

Returning to the narrative

So, the child we saw present himself to his family in a dress, is now, in adolescence, a femephiliac. However, he won’t know that because his sexual desire will be coloured with many shades. He will have mad passionate crushes on girls (and maybe some boys) and it is extremely unlikely he will be thinking he wants to ‘be them’. He will simply have a classic crush. However, in the privacy of his room it is highly likely he will be having sexual fantasies about dressing as a girl, or having sex as a girl, or behaving like a girl… or all three.

What is the next stage in his development?

This dual sexuality will probably exist for the rest of his life. He will be dating and having sex and marrying and externally all will be classic hetero. Depending on his sexual partners he may sometimes play out a femephiliac fantasy. Or not. If, however, his interest in female being, dress and behaviour, starts to extend beyond the sexual then we say he is a ‘crossdreamer.’

Start Session 7… NOW However, if this is the first article you’ve read on this site you should start from the beginning What is a transvestite, and why are women’s clothes so prevalent in cross gender psychology?

Or just buy the book!

  1. I am glad you so effectively dismiss the value of the autogynephilia concept.

    I wonder: Your own femephilia concept, is that in any way related to Virginia Prince’s femmiphile concept? Cp

  2. When I was 13, I was masturbating 2 a picture in a Playboy magazine in the bathroom. As I was doing this, I just so happened 2 notice an unlaundered skirt of 1 of my sisters, & without even thinking, I immediately put down the magazine, put on her skirt, & masturbated in it while not only fantasizing about my sister’s ass in that skirt, but simultaneously fantasizing about this nun that was a school teacher @ the school that I went 2 when I was in the 7th grade, that wore from my point of reference @ the time, some similar kinds of skirts, esp. the kinds that accentuated her ass! Now @ that time, I didn’t know the clinical terminology 4 my sexual arousal, hwvr. I knew automatically that this type of sexual activity was taboo, thus I 4 several years kept it 2 myself. I can also relate 2 sexually “getting off!” on looking @ myself while envisioning myself as a woman, whenever I dressed in partial or especially in full drag! I also liked–& still do!–expressing myself 2 a very select few individuals, mostly objective minded individuals from my point of reference, that 4 the most part happen 2 b anatomical male transgendered & women, the way most women & men that feel like a woman in virtually or perhaps all societies express themselves openly! 4 me, IT’S SOOO! THERAPEUTIC!–IT SOOTHES THE SAVAGE BEAST IN ME!

  3. Pingback: What signs were there in my childhood that I was transgender and what is the significance of these signs? | Novagirl

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Summary: Detective Dojima has the house to himself and takes a moment to relax in the bath.
Length: 679 words
Rating: M
Notes: Old fill from the original Persona 4 kink meme.

The house was dark, empty and silent when he returned from work. Ryotaro Dojima sighed as he turned the key in the door. It was rare for him to be home alone, without Nanako (and these days, Souji) being there to greet him, and it did not feel right. Even when he knew where they were, knew the company they kept wasn't going to land them in trouble.

It was nice to have a few moments to himself, though, after being stuck with that nitwit Adachi all day, after making no progress at all on the case for the nth day in a row. He'd damn well earned it.

He hummed tunelessly as he ran a bath. He had been stuck searching through the archives at the station for almost an hour before he could leave, and the dust got in everywhere.

He poured a glass of scotch as the tub filled up and brought it with him, setting it on a little shelf that was probably supposed to hold the soap before he sank into the steaming water. It was almost too hot, just barely tolerable, but fuck, it felt good. He took a swig of the whisky and that, too, burned. Heat inside and out. Fire without, fire within. There was nothing more relaxing than this.

Dojima leaned back, closing his eyes. One hand trailed lazily down his chest and stomach, fingers wrapping lightly around his cock. His hand was warm, but the water was hotter, and the touch seemed almost cool.

How long had it been? he wondered as he stroked himself slowly.

It didn't matter.

He allowed himself another swig before dropping his other hand below the water as well, left curling around the base of his cock and cupping his balls, right stroking the tip.

Fuck, he'd been holding this in for weeks.

It wasn't long before he felt the familiar tightening, felt the blood pounding in his ears as his cock grew thicker and harder, felt the electric pressure building in his crotch and lower stomach, ready to explode and shoot out through his entire body.

His right hand pumped faster, guided more by primal instinct than any rational thought. The left tightened, squeezing the base of his shaft. Tightened even further just as he felt the probability shift to certainty.

His cock throbbed and twitched, but all that emerged was a single drop of thick come, instantly dispersed in the hot water.

He grit his teeth, kept moving, kept squeezing, hips jerking upwards, sending water splashing over the side of the tub. Just once wasn't enough. It wasn't anywhere near enough.

His cock ached, but remained hard.

Arm trembling slightly, he released his grip and raised his left hand, taking another swig of the whisky, wetting his suddenly dry mouth.

Fuck. It had been far too long.

The glass clattered as he set it down, right hand already speeding up again.

His breath was hot in his throat, his heart pounding. That sensation - like lightning building up before a strike - had not gone away, merely receded slightly, and it was building again, faster and stronger.

His jaw ached, breath hissing through clenched teeth. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping into the water.

He let out a growl as he finally shot his load, several long, powerful spurts, come curling white and mistlike in the hot, clear water; feeling electricity burn through him, setting every nerve on fire; his entire body rigid except for the hand moving with short, fast strokes, tightly wrapped around the head of his cock.

But it couldn't last forever, and he was softening even before the sensations abated, leaving him gasping, with coloured spots dancing before his eyes.

His hands were shaking as he leaned back against the tub and raised them, dully registering the sticky white mess on his fingers.

He'd have to clean the tub, he realized, vaguely in the back of his head, and let his hands fall back into the water with a splash.

But it had been fucking worth it.
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Holistic Fantasy - Chapter 112

[Updated at: 2021-01-13 15:54:01]
If you find missing chapters, pages, or errors, please Report us.
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Chapter 112

Peering through the cracks in the closet, Noah can see Rentaro who is drinking water lazily outside .

It’s amazing how he can be so unenthusiastic about his job .

After hiding inside here, Noah prayed that Rentaro would exit this rooms on so they can resolve their current hot situation .

Rentaro poured himself a cup of tea so Noah had a bad feeling that he won’t be leaving anytime soon .

Noah started cursing his own luck . His body tensed up .

Haa haa

Maybe it’s because it’s so sultry inside the closet, the other person in here with him started panting .

Noah’s heart started racing and he shifted his gaze down .

He’s not sure if this counts as lucky or unfortunate, this closet is awfully empty . Because it’s rather wide without anything in it, the two of them could squeeze inside here . Kisara doesn’t look like she’s planning on storing her clothes in here anytime soon .

With her present financial situation, it’s not likely she’s going to buy a new closet soon .

Hence, they are stuck with this closet devoid of stuff, but, it’s still a small closet .

So, they are stuck with each other, like really closes with each other, they can feel each other’s breath .

Due to the limited space here, Kisara is basically pressing herself up against Noah’s body . This sent jolts of electricity up Noah’s spine .

Because Kisara dragged him into this closet in a hurry, they didn’t have the time to adjust their positions . If they even twitched, the two of them could feel it since they are so close to each other .

Noah’s heart is throbbing out of control right now because of this steamy situation .

Noah and Kisara only noticed their situation now .

Kisara’s hands are above her head so when Noah shifted his gaze, he got a good look at her body, not that he had the mind to pay attention . His current position is rather awkward .

His left hand is pressed against the other side of the closet, worse yet, Kisara’s butt is pinning his hand .

Meanwhile, his right hand is on her hooters . He got a good taste of her knockers . In other words, Kisara’s impossibly intimate distance notwithstanding, his hands are on her sensitive areas . If the closet is transparent, it would look like he’s going second base with Kisara right now .

Noticing this, Noah stiffened his body as his thoughts became jumbled . Sweat started pouring down his head .

Haa… Haa…

Kisara is also red as an apple . She’s performing relatively worse than Noah . Every inch of her skin is drenched in sweat . She mewled in a coquettish tone after noticing that she’s being fondled by Noah .

“Yo-your hands…”

Her reminder caused him to move .

He shouldn’t have done that . In this tight space, the moment he moved his hands, he actually delved deeper into an embrace with Kisara .

Kisara leaked out a moan due to how hard Noah squeezed her tatas .

“Do-don’t move…”

Noah stopped squirming as more sweat appeared on his head . Kisara started sobbing .

“You-your hands…”

Noah wanted to cry too .

Move, he’s screwed, don’t move, he’s still screwed . It’s hard to get out of his situation without stimulating her butt or jugs . It’s also very dangerous if this situation persists .

Noah used an exasperated tone with her .

“Why did you drag me inside here?”

“I-I just moved on reflex, it’s not like I want to do this…”

Kisara started moving around slightly, this embarrassment is going to kill her before the heat does .

“A-anyway, just do something about your hands…”

Kisara didn’t think about the consequences of her actions . Her movements caused a new wave of pleasure to assault Noah’s nervous system .

Noah raised his head and he tried very hard to not think about their current position . It’s not very easy to divert his own attention when there are two plentiful cans pressing against his chest .

“Can you stop moving like that?”

“I-I don’t have any other better idea? Are you doing this on purpose?’

“I mean, you’re making it so easy, aren’t you?”

“Then think of something already, aren’t you the man here?”

“Believe me, if I can switch gender, I would switch in a snap of the finger, at least I don’t have to suffer through this…”

“Su-? Did you just say suffer?!”

“Is-isn’t that right?”

“I’m the victim here! You’re the one that has it good!”

“Well, I want a refund . ”

“You better explain yourself, buster . It’s my body you’re feeling up right now . I have misjudged you!”

Noah and Kisara bickered without thinking about their gradually increasing volume . It’s inevitable that some of it escaped the closet .

Rentaro who was scrolling his notebook suddenly raised his head in puzzlement .

“What was that?”

Noah and Kisara silenced themselves .

Rentaro trusted his instincts as a professional civil defense officer . He didn’t think it was his hallucinations .

Rentaro stood up in confusion . He scanned the office and he turned his attention towards the closet .

Noah and Kisara can feel each other’s heart speeding up . They prayed to whatever gods or spirits they believed in, hoping that they don’t get found out .

One of them is butt naked while the other has his hands on a girl like they are doing some kind of kinky play . 10 out of 10 people who think so .

Even god started pitying them .

Rentaro locked his brows and he approached the closet .

Kisara whimpered . She gave up and she desperately threw herself into Noah’s arms to hide as much of her body as possible while shutting her eyes in despair .

Noah noticed this and he sighed in silence . Adjusting his body, he put himself between the closet door and Kisara .

Even if Rentaro opened the closet he wouldn’t be able to see Kisara’s divine figure .

Kisara also perceived that Noah accepted her desperate bid to hide her body behind his .

He’s warmer than I thought…

They steeled themselves up for the imminent reveal .

At this time .

A loud collision sound came from outside the office, it seemed to have come from the street outside the building .

“Wh-what the?”

Rentaro ran over to the window to find out what happened .

Noah jumped in surprise .

He quickly opened the closet and he brought Kisara out of the office after grabbing the clothes she left on the office table . They left the office in a blur .


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From the outside, the Imperial Lotus was contrary to its various other city counterparts-- no showy neon signs or loud colours. The outside of the structure was covered in complex wood makings of mythical creatures and age-old icons, giving off a serene, typical ambiance. Going through the age-worn entrance, the air would strike your skin with a warm, pale scent of incense, enveloping you in a comforting, mystical accept.

At the helm of the Imperial Lotus was a lady of apprehending charm. Her name was Rosaline, however everybody simply knew her as Rosie. Rosie's temperament held a striking comparison to the city's rushed way of living. It embodied a serene beauty, a fusion of wisdom, patience, and concern. She had delicate functions, deep-set eyes that held a cosmos within them, and a comforting smile that seemed to reduce the weight of the globe from your shoulders. Her hands had a magic of their own; with every motion, they would certainly redefine the idea of alleviation, easing even the most stubborn knots of stress and anxiety.

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One night, after a specifically lengthy day of difficult conferences and essential target dates, Dan booked the last slot at the Imperial Lotus. He caught the soothing serenity of the ambient space, the rhythmic stress of Rosie's hands minimizing the discomfort not just in his physical body yet in his worn-out mind too. And after that he saw it, a pale, shadowy synopsis around Rosie's stunning number.

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Ask The Expert: Boys And Sex–Talking to Boys About the Hookup Culture

Dear Your Teen:

I heard Peggy Orenstein’s interview on NPR and I found it very disturbing. It’s possible that it’s a generation gap but I was sad that girls are giving but not getting. Orenstein’s research only focuses on girls. I was wondering whether there has been any research on boys and their perspective on this “hookup culture”. I’d like to think that both boys and girls are wired for love and relationships but I wonder if that model is broken.

EXPERT | Dr. David Anderson

For parents, the thought of their teen or young adult engaging in sexual activity is a frequent concern. In my work at the Child Mind Institute, it’s fairly common with any teen or young adult to have at least one therapy session (and usually at least one session with parents as well) focused on decision-making, consent, and safety as it relates to sex or romantic relationships. And it’s almost inevitable that parents and teens will at some point need to have some delicate and awkward conversations.

Hookups are generally defined as sexual activity of some kind (not necessarily intercourse) without the expectation of a committed relationship. Surveys do indicate that a higher percentage of males seek out hookups. They are comfortable with a wider range of sexual activities, and feel more positively about hookup culture. However, studies also emphasize the significant overlap between the sexes on reports of both positive and negative emotions/consequences during and after hookups. Additionally, even if the percentage may be lower for males, a majority of both sexes still prefer committed relationships. That is one major difference with hookups vs dating.

Boys And Relationships: Let’s Talk Hookup Culture

So hookup culture, for better or worse, will continue to be a powerful force in the development of young adults. We want to be sure to provide the right support for navigating these challenges. Here are some ideas for talking with boys and girls about hookup culture:

Emotional Consequences of Hooking Up

While many teens and young adults experience positive emotions both during and after a hookup, feelings of disappointment, embarrassment, and regret are still quite common. Whether they seek support from parents, friends, or a mental health professional, we want to make sure that young adults have open lines of communication. We want to help them discuss their feelings. We want them to be assertive in their decision-making process, and (often most importantly) consider others’ needs and feelings.

Safe Sex

Given that the majority of teens and young adults will have some experience with hookups, they absolutely need trusted adults who can have those awkward but enormously important conversations about safe sex. While condom usage has increased in the United States over the past few decades, current studies of teens and young adults indicate notable increases in the frequency of unprotected oral sex, underestimation of the risks of STIs, and a large percentage of hookups involving unprotected vaginal sex.

The Role of Alcohol

Research highlights the major role that alcohol plays in facilitating hookup behavior, especially binge drinking. Alcohol consumption is linked to impaired decision-making. There are a host of issues that need to be discussed with teens and young adults about how to ensure safe and consensual interactions when one or both parties may be under the influence of alcohol or drugs.

This is perhaps the least discussed yet most important topic in the context of hookup culture. Studies of heterosexual hookups show that a higher percentage of men seek out hookups. It shows that men may overestimate a female partner’s comfort with sexual behaviors, and that up to 8 percent of sexual encounters may be perceived as unwanted or even nonconsensual.

Safe, Consensual, Mutually Enjoyable Sex

Whether it’s in the context of a hookup or a committed relationship, opposite-sex or same-sex sexual encounter, it’s crucial to convey to our children that both parties should feel that they have the ability to ensure that sexual activity is safe and consensual and to advocate for mutual enjoyment. And that’s a message that is far too often lost amidst the challenges of adolescence and young adulthood.

Dr. David Anderson

Dr. David Anderson is a clinical psychologist with New York City’s Child Mind Institute, an independent nonprofit dedicated to transforming the lives of children and families struggling with mental health and learning disorder


Just a quick note. Please note that this is my first attempt at any sort of fiction let alone erotic fiction. It really starts off slow and serves merely as an introduction to the central character and his life. I intend on this being a series but only if there is sufficient interest. – Curious Scribe

Dorian Greyling sat in his cubicle staring at his PC. He had been staring at the same line for the past hour, in fact he had been working on this story for the last three hours and yet only one shitty paragraph had been typed. His mind was definitely on something or someone else rather. In his mind he played over the events of the previous night. Jason had surprised him with a good fucking up against the screen doors as soon as he had gotten home. He still had the bruises on his front as evidence.

Arriving at his sea side apartment, Dorian had found the door unlocked.

"Strange," he thought as he cautiously pushed the door wide open to reveal an empty living space with just the lamp turned on. He lived alone and no one but the building Sup had access to the apartment. He continued, as if in a bad horror film, inching forward slowly and calling out before entering the room.

"Shit, bad move," he thought. "Now you let the fuckers know you are here".

But logic never really applied to him before and reaching one hand into his coat to retrieve his mobile and the other in front of him he yelled suddenly as his hands were snatched and yanked behind him in a vice grip. Before he could react he was pressed up flat against the glass of the screen and a husky voice breathed heavily in his ear.

"Welcome home honey."

Struggling to get his hands free he turned his head and his lips were immediately crushed. He whimpered sinking into the kiss. He could feel the bristles of a five o'clock shadow and the crotch being pressed into his butt. He smiled and stopped struggling.

Once his attacker felt him relax he let him go stepping back. Dorian looked at Jason, standing in front of him with a huge grin and not much else. Dorian felt the fear and anger which head built leave him and lust take over as he appraised the fine form that was his would be assailant. Jason was 6.2 and 260 pounds of pure unadulterated sex on legs. He worked as a personal trainer at the local gym, putting eight hours in a day to hone his perfect form. Amethyst eyes gazed back cheekily and strong hands trailed down to lightly stroke his biggest (!) asset of them all. Jason turned and headed toward the bedroom. His hard cock twitching Dorian followed….

Somewhere in the busy newsroom someone dropped a phone and with a start he came to. There was a wet spot forming in the front of his now too tight jeans. The faded material clung to his erection the outline obvious as he tried to ease the situation. Unfortunately the rough texture of the denim just assisted the friction and before he could be fired for public indecency he left go taking deep breaths.

Blinking rapidly he looked around and realized that no-one had really noticed. Not surprising he thought.

No one ever really notices me.

With another sigh he looked back at his screen, checked the time and started typing. He only had ten minutes to submit his article if he wanted to see it published in next month's edition of the magazine. Patricia Undson did not take kindly to tardiness. Dorian worked for Phallus magazine and despite its dubious title the rag had quite a reputation as the fastest growing Gay man's thinking magazine. It wasn't the article that was bugging Dorian. It was the lack of credibility he felt he had. Dorian Greyling was writing about 'ten things to do to avoid losing one's man' and yet he felt ashamed and incapable for he had never even been able to keep one let alone sustain a long term relationship.

It hadn't mattered before. There just did not seem as if there was any reason he should be in any sort of relationship. But lately he had begun to feel a bit lonely. It was the times after everyone had been over visiting and laughing and drinking then left for their warm beds that he realized just how alone he truly was. Moving out of his home at 17 and being on his own had taught him self preservation. He had learnt to enjoy his own company with a few men warming his bed for short periods of times over the years. Jason the previous night was such an example. Although the sex was more than satisfying they were just fuck buddies. And Dorian thought that wouldn't last much longer either. He hated Jason invading his space like that. He still hadn't asked how he was ale to get into his flat. Cape Town was not the safest place in the world and Dorian's flat came equipped with a security system.

He would ask him the next time he decided to drop by. Young, intelligent with a wry sense of humour and a tight ass Dorian was never short of admirers. Standing at 5 feet 10 inches he wasn't of average height. He abhorred gyms frequenting them for the ponies on display rather than health reasons but kept in shape by playing men's hockey, the occasional tennis and yoga once a week. He was mixed race what his fellow countrymen referred to as coloured, which left him with a skin tone the same hue as lightly baked biscuits. However, his most striking feature and which had earned him his moniker Grey were his eyes. Set against his dark skin tone his eyes were particularly striking. Two pools of liquid silver shone in its sockets, the shades ranging from icy to smoky to ashen to stone depending on his temperament. Long dark lashes acted as curtains, framing and sometimes hiding his windows to his soul from others. At 24 Dorian was a catch. But it did not seem as if there was that special someone to catch him should he fall.

Ten minutes later he received a beep on the companies IM system and a minute later he sent off his article. He prayed he had gotten all the typos. Dorian loved his job although it sometimes seemed as if it ruled his life. Journalism major from Rhodes he had decided to abandon his original pursuit of investigative fair for something more entertaining. And landing a spot on the editorial team at Phallus was a scoop for him. The magazine was not really just for fags, it was targeted at the thinking man which generally meant the gay market. Most articles were supposed to be written for the straight audience but the entire look from its A5 format and glossy pics to photo spreads with homo-erotic themes and issues made it the gay mans bible. Sighing he picked up his battered sling bag and slipped on his All Star sneakers- he always wrote barefoot- and with final check of his email headed home to his lonely existence. Well… to get changed before going out on the prowl. He was lonely but still young, hot and horny. And tonight… tonight he intended on changing the former.

With an audible gasp Dorian reached down and pulled on the blonde head below him. The head stayed down not wanting to relinquish its new toy. Twisting a handful of the pale strands he heard a loud moan and then a pop as his phallus was exposed to the cool air. Bringing the Green eyed beauty to eye level he leaned forward and began tentatively nipping at his inviting mouth. He stepped in closer rubbing his hard cock against the blonde stranger, trying to create as much friction as possible. Breaking the kiss he got to his knees and worshipped the blonde's 7 inch cock. Dorian began slowly, licking the shaft from the base to the head. When his tongue reached the crown it dipped teasingly into the slit, tasting the sweet precum there before swirling lightly and resuming the journey back to the base. The blonde squirmed in ecstasy. He tried to gain access into Dorian's mouth but the minx would not let him. Instead using just his mouth he continued his oral assault on the tool before him licking and nuzzling and nipping but never fully engulfing the hot member. He loved to tease. The added need and frustration just added to the pleasure of orgasm.

"Suck me, suck me please. Oh god, please take me into your mouth I want to come so bad, please just take me dude ooohhhh....," the blonde panted through clenched lips. Finally giving in to the panting pleas of his latest conquest he rose up on his knees, licking his way under the hard ridge and fully engulfed the leaking cock to the root simultaneously sliding a single finger into his hole. With a uninhibited howl the blonde came.

Dorian suckled the deflating cock then released it with a plop and looked up into the heavy lidded green eyes. He grinned to himself. A slight frisson of regret and frustration was already beginning to make a place in his mind but he quickly dampened it and standing back up he turned the blonde- he still could not recall his name- around and bent him over the couch. Dorian never gave without taking. And tonight was no exception.

Dorian Awoke a few hour later to an insistent buzzing in his ear… he tried to ignore it but after a while gave up hope an lifted his throbbing head. Locating his mobile he pressed yes automatically and suddenly chilled.

He would know that voice anywhere. He had not heard that voice in five years ad yet he noted absently that nothing much had changed. However. There was a new element to the voice that he never recalled was there. Panic? Fear? Grief?

"Dorian, it's me. Something terrible happened. You need to come. Quick."

The line went dead.

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byCuriousScribe© 9 comments/ 21012


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Practice When You Are Alone, In Front Of A Mirror, To Get Your Dirty Talk And Your Facial Expression In Synch With Each Other.

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To color a photo for you, let’s run-through multiple hypothetical â however extremely sensible â conditions where you discover it your self.

Circumstances #1

You see a sensational lady throughout the bar. You ask a bartender to deliver their a drink and make sure to mention it really is away from you. She cheerfully takes the beverage as she seems directly at one to make sure she understands just who her benefactor is.

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Once you get to the other area, your own every attempt at a hello is came across by a cold stare or complete disregard. She goes on carrying-on a conversation together gf (or even worse, using jerk whom just came up and started speaking with her even though you happened to be making your path throughout the club).

According to the part of the country you’re in, you merely destroyed between $5 and $25 wanting to woo a woman who will never ever recognize you once again even though you should fall on the from the roof.

Situation #2

You walk into a lounge, gauge the circumstance and park yourself beside the stunning creature at the bar. You “accidentally” wipe against the girl a few times to be certain she understands you are indeed there.

That last time might have been way too much thrusting, because thought your hip pose in to the the majority of humanly unnatural place and a-sharp pain goes firing through the base of one’s toes right up to the top of your mind. No pain no gain, correct?

At least you know you got the woman interest, as she turned and nodded politely. You right away ask her just what the woman is consuming, without sooner can she complete

Together with your drink within her hand, the prodding and her nodding, anybody can have a conversation. She follows along. You have a remarkable conversation concerning moisture your city provides skilled within the last few few days in addition to so-called conspiracy of garments manufacturers because just how otherwise is it possible you describe orange staying in style?

At some time you understand the only way you can keep chatting is if she agrees for intercourse to you 1st â the following in the club.

As she doesn’t look like she means to do that, no less than maybe not until you take the lady down several times and listen to some more fascinating tales concerning the most recent Cosmo poll and precisely what the girls at the job tend to be wearing, you beat a hasty farewell, vowing to not know this lady even if she should fall on you from threshold.

With respect to the an element of the country you’re in, you simply lost between $5 and $25 on a female who gave you adequate emotional trauma keeping you from the bars for weeks or perhaps several months.

Circumstances #3

You enter a club and after evaluating the specific situation, destination yourself strategically between a brunette and a blonde. When you are maintaining your possibilities available, you keep up the interest evenly separated between the two, paying attention to the blonde talk about the woman pilates course therefore the brunette lamenting the disappointments of recent neighborhood elections.

Plainly you are not revealing any intimate interest in her, so she offers a rash farewell and is also gone one which just say “phone quantity.”

That subsequently prompts the blond to understand she’s to awaken early for her Pilates course, and she uses the brunette correct out the door. What the deuce? There seemed to be no hint of enchanting interest in any event.

According to the area of the country you’re in, you only spared between $5 and $25 on a glass or two, nevertheless ‘re going home empty-handed.

Just what exactly should a guy perform? Does the guy, or doesn’t he? To respond to that, i shall draw you the fourth and final circumstance to show just what should be done.

Situation #4

You walk into a club and measure the situation within club. You spot a beautiful woman and walk up to the girl. You may have a number of beginning lines cooked (aside from “Hi, i am Jerry. What is the name?”).

She seems interested. She actually is chuckling at your jokes and flirtatiously twirling her tresses at you. When you communicate, you find their moving the woman fist up and down the woman drink glass, as if petting it.

You move in for your murder and ask if she would choose discover a quieter place to talk. She rapidly believes.

Because both of you eliminate yourselves to a dark part couch, you find yourself missing inside woman. The impression appears to be shared.

As soon as the waiter draws near, truly after that and simply THEN in the event you turn to the girl and have just what the woman is ingesting. You will be today getting a drink for a woman whom you would want to understand better and who’s into you.

Depending on the the main nation you are in, you simply spent between $5 and $25 in your possible sex life.

In case you have any queries or need extra clarification, just ask.

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Christmas Dinner
The sun had not quite peaked through the windows of Tim and Greg’s apartment when Greg woke up, ravenous as he tip-toed into the kitchen looking for the last box of Entenmanns Crumb Cake. Tim had made him dinner as a Christmas Eve surprise, and he had been so full afterwards that he passed out after playing around with Tim for a few hours. He was so used to having a midnight snack before bed that his stomach protested all night, waking him up in the wee hours of the morning to feed its cravings.
It should be a good day for pigging out, he thought lustfully as he cut the cake into fours and stuffed the first block into his face. A good day at Tim’s anyway. Eating with Greg’s family would be another issue. Greg had always been a little heavy – like both his mom and dad – though when he turned 12 his parents turned into super health freaks, sending him to fat camp and throwing everything out of the refrigerator except for carrots, celery, and roasted turkey breast. Tim met Greg while they were both freshmen at State, when Greg was a shy stocky 18 year-old with an eating disorder. Gone were the days of closet binging and starvation, and after a year and a half of Tim’s encouragement, Greg’s five-foot-eight frame had grown from stocky, to chubby, to downright fat. Now that they were going into the second semester of their junior year he had shot up well above his original 200 pounds, to the point where even his 44 jeans were getting a little snug. Not that Tim minded, preferring Greg’s clothes to be tight-fitting so that he could see all the contours of his chubby body. Greg was finishing the last of his morning treat on that cold Christmas morning when Tim woke and, realizing Greg wasn’t in bed, went looking for him in the kitchen. He pressed himself into Greg’s sky-blue boxers and started nuzzling his neck.
"Morning Greg,” Tim said, nuzzling Greg from behind as the dawn-light cast its early-morning glow across the kitchen. Despite all the action taking place in the room, the kitchen was clean except for the crumbs around the Entenmanns box.
"Morning,” Greg replied, turning to face Tim as he finished the last of the Entenmanns cake.
"You’re up early huh?”
"Yea, this thing woke me up,” he said, rubbing his gut and smiling.
"You must’ve been pretty hungry,” Tim said, looking at the empty Entenmanns box.
"Just a morning snack.”
"Snack? That cake is gone.”
"Hey, you helped build this belly,” Greg said, grinning as he brought Tim’s hard body into his fleshy one. Greg knew how to get Tim going, and he wasn’t surprised when he felt a particularly hard piece of Tim growing into his belly. "Now I’ve gotta take care of it.” Greg said, a greedy look spreading across his chubby face. Tim smiled.
"You’re insatiable,” he said.
"In more ways than one.” And Greg dropped to his knees, giving Tim his morning pleasure.

Both Tim and Greg’s parents lived in the capital city, about three hours drive from campus. Despite the proximity, however, neither Tim nor Greg had met the other’s parents before that Christmas day. Tim’s father was a lieutenant over the city police department’s homicide division, and Greg noticed they lived in a nice sized house, in one of the safer neighborhoods within a few miles of the downtown precinct. Tim had called ahead to tell his parents when they would be arriving, and they were waving from the doorway as Tim parallel parked in front of the house. It hadn’t snowed yet, and once they parked, they walked over the small plot of grass towards the entrance.
"Tim!” Mr. Dessalines called, taking hold of Tim with one of those fatherly handshake-and-hugs. Tim’s mother also gave him a hug and a kiss before she let him go inside. Once Tim was inside, his father directed his gaze down towards where Greg was standing.
"And you must be Greg. Nice to finally meet the guy who’s captured our Tim!” he said while giving Greg a hand-breaking handshake.
"Oh Andre, you’re gonna embarrass him,” Tim’s mom said, smiling as she shook his hand.
"It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Dessalines. Mrs. Dessalines.”
"Oh, just call me Brigit dear,” she said, smiling as she led them into the house.
Like Tim, his dad was a nice looking man, with an athletic build and with a devilish grin Other than these traits, however, they were almost totally different. Mr. Dessalines was at least 6’3”, about four inches taller than Tim, with dark hair and eyes that contrasted with Tim’s more tawny hair and hazel eyes. And while Tim was muscular with hardly any body fat on his frame, he seemed almost lithe next to his father, who had the wide shoulders, large frame, and natural muscularity of a man who looked like he would have been a good defensive lineman. He was in his late forties, and Greg could tell he still worked out to keep his body in shape, though he had that slight belly that a lot of guys get with age. His pectorals were big enough so that you could hardly tell it was there unless he sat down.
Mrs. Dessalines was a little shorter than Greg at about five-foot-five, blonde haired, very round and rosy-cheeked, with one of the sweetest demeanors he’d ever seen. "You boys just sit in here for the next half hour or so and catch up,” she said, smiling distractedly as she directed Mr. Dessalines to his chair, Tim and Greg to the couch, and rushed back into the kitchen to finish the cooking. "We’ll be sitting down to eat at 1:00!”
Mr. Dessalines settled into his chair, literally glowing as he looked over at Tim. "So, how’s that Marketing major treatin’ you son?” he asked.
"It’s going okay,” Tim said, not bothering to remind his dad that he was a Business Economics major. "A lot of case studies, graphs . . .”
"Good, good. Just keep studying and things will turn out alright,” he said, reflecting on this statement for a moment, and then nodding firmly as if to reinforce the sentiment. "How about you Greg? Tim tells me you’re studying Biology?”
"That’s right, Mr. Dessalines,” he said. "This past term wasn’t too bad, but now I’ve got to start getting ready for organic chemistry next semester. I’m heading back to campus after New Year’s Day to get an early start.”
"Organic chemistry? Man, I couldn’t imagine. You two must really be working hard up there. Still on the honor roll?” They both nodded. "That’s my boy!” he said, reaching over and tousling Tim’s hair. "Don’t know where you and your brother Chris get those smarts from.”
"From my side of the family!” Mrs. Dessalines yelled from the kitchen.
"Must be . . .”
"You’ve got to be pretty clever to be over the homicide department though,” Greg added.
"I guess that’s true. You’ve got to know what you’re doing . . . Still, the objective’s pretty clear isn’t it. I’m just trying to keep the thugs and murderers off the streets.”
"Hey dad, what’s Chris up to?” Tim asked, changing the subject from law enforcement with the ease that comes with years of practice.
"In the attic, playing one of those ‘Role Playing’ games,” he said, frowning as if it were some gross disease. "You don’t have to worry about Chris missing a meal though! He’ll be down once the food’s ready.” Chris was in his last year at Tech. Greg had never met him, but he knew from passing conversations with Tim that he was pretty different from his other two brothers, preferring video games and constant snacking to playing sports and working out. Tim said he looked a few pounds bigger almost every time he went home, though the Dessalines seemed much more concerned with what they viewed as his anti-social behavior. "You’d think he’d be sick of computers after working with them all day, but he comes right home and starts playing those games like his life depended on it.”
Tim also had an older brother, Andres Jr., who was the splitting image of his father: dark haired and brown eyed, with a tall, muscular football player’s build that carried maybe thirty pounds or so less than his dad’s did. He’d moved South to help manage a crew on an oil rig in the Gulf, and he was spending Christmas with his girlfriend there.
Finding that the boys didn’t have too much else to talk about, Mr. Dessalines drove the conversation back to law enforcement, mentioning some cases he had wrapped up, and at 1:00 sharp Mrs. Dessalines called, "Dinner’s ready!” As they got up to head into the kitchen, Chris came downstairs into the living room.
"Hey guys!”
"Nice to see you could take a break from videogame world,” his dad teased.
"I wouldn’t miss this Christmas dinner for the World,” Chris teased right back. And from the looks of him, you believed him. At 6’1”, he was tall like his dad, yet his long-ish brown hair, and pleasantly chubby face made him look pretty different. He definitely wasn’t muscular like his other brothers, with his thick legs and arms, and a belly that swooped way out in front of him. Not too many 22 year-olds could manage a belly that big, yet he seemed pretty nimble none-the-less. Good genes, these Dessalines have, Greg thought.
They headed into the kitchen, where it became immediately clear that Mrs. Dessalines had really outdid herself, making just about every kind of Christmas food imaginable. For a moment, Greg was sure another 20 people were going to start filing into the house for dinner. The kitchen was filled with the smells of honey-roasted ham, glazed turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese, along with several other holiday staples that were covering every square inch of table and counter-top space. The desserts were laid out on a long dresser in the dinning room, which was situated between the living room and the kitchen. Mrs. Dessalines had already designated a seat for everybody, and once everybody had their plates, they went into the kitchen to fill them up.
The smells wafting through the kitchen were intoxicating, stirring the food lust in Greg and enticing him to try everything he could get his hands on. Still, thinking about his own family and how they would disapprove of him stuffing himself as a guest, he only got a few of the dishes he wanted on his first round. After seeing how much Chris and his father were downing at the table, however, he decided to join in. Mr. Dessalines slowed down after the second plate, and for a while only Chris and Greg were still eating the main course. Chris was taller and much heavier than Greg, and in this case that translated into appetite as well; he ended up putting away the most food for the evening.
"That was good mom,” he said, wiping his mouth after downing a 3rd plate of rotisserie chicken and mac and cheese, then patting his stretched-out belly with bloated satisfaction.
"I’m happy you liked it,” she said, setting a fairly large-sized piece of cake in front of everybody. "And maybe next year you’ll be bringing someone over to share in all this, like Tim,” Mrs. Dessalines said, smiling approvingly towards her youngest son.
"Yep, one of these days I’ll find a girl who can take care of this belly just as well as I can.” Chris said, taking a large bite out of his cake, then swallowing it with whole milk. "‘Till then, I’m ridin’ solo.”
"Maybe if you got out of the house more, you’d have a better social life,” Mr. Dessalines said pointedly.
"I have a good social life!” Chris protested, getting up to cut grab another slice of cake from the dresser. "It just happens to revolve around ‘World of Warcraft.’” All three Dessalines looked at him like that was the craziest thing they had ever heard of. Chris sat back down with his cake (this slice significantly larger than the first), shrugged, and started eating; Mrs. Dessalines decided to change the focus of conversation to Greg.
"I hope you’ve enjoyed sharing dinner with us,” she said.
"Definitely,” he said, rubbing his own taut belly. "I don’t think I’ve ever had a holiday dinner this good.”
"Glad to hear you’re the kind of guy who can enjoy a good meal,” Mr. Dessalines said, eyeing Greg meaningfully. "You know, we Dessalines men like our . . . partners with a little meat on their bones.” Greg smiled sheepishly, not quite sure what to say, and Tim turned bright red underneath his tawny locks. Oblivious to any of this, however, Mr. Dessalines tousled Tim’s hair again, beaming warmly as he gave him a hefty pat on the shoulder.

A bottle of champagne and a few beers later, and Mr. Dessalines was in full-blown story-telling mode.
"I’ll bet you’re wondering how a big, Average Joe looking guy like me wound up with a name like ‘Dessalines’, huh Greg?”
"Well, you guys are definitely the only family I know with that name.”
"I’ll tell you how it happened,” he said, and after some groaning from Chris and Tim that Mr. Dessalines didn’t seem to hear, he launched into the story.
"The first Dessalines came to New Orleans from Guad-ee-loupe – by way of France – way back in the 1800s. Right after he got there, New Orleans became American, and BAM! He was a legal citizen, just like that!” He said, looking around the table to see if they got it. The other Dessalines all had neutral looks on their faces, Mrs. Dessalines in particular paying an inordinate amount of attention to her slice of apple pie, and Greg took this as a sign that they had heard this story before. Mr. Dessalines, apparently thinking they were confused, chose to elaborate. "No tests or waiting periods or nothin’. He went from total foreigner to legal citizen, overnight! Of course, he didn’t know any English, but it wasn’t like it is with today’s foreigners, since most people were still speakin’ French in Louisiana. And anyway, he made sure his kids spoke English,” he said, reaffirming his approval of this first Dessalines, English-language skills be damned.
"Around the turn of the century, my Great-Grandfather moved down to Mobile, and my Grandfather moved here for work and raised my father and me all here in the Midwest. And there you have it! An All-American guy like me with a name like ‘Dessalines.’”
"It’s an American story, Mr. Dessalines.”
"Please, just call me Andres.”

After a few more desserts, everyone was completely full, and they started filing back into the living room. The Dessalines’ house was something of a post-dinner meeting place for the family, and several of Tim’s aunts, uncles and cousins stopped by. Around 5:30, as people began to head out, Greg told Tim he had to go over to his parents for their Christmas dinner, and they left.
The Parkers lived in a modest sized house in a suburban planned community, about 20 miles northwest of downtown. Tim and Greg got to the house a little bit after 6:00. Having heard so many horror stories from Greg about his parents, Tim originally planned on dropping Greg off without getting out of the car. Then he figured that, since Greg had met his parents, he might as well meet Greg’s. He pulled into the driveway, walked along the concrete path bordering the front yard, and rang the doorbell. A slightly plump, middle-aged woman opened the door. She was dark-haired like Greg, but with icy-blue eyes that seemed so different from Greg’s warm brown ones. "Hi, I’m Tim,” Tim said, smiling at Greg’s Mom.
"Mrs. Parker,” she said, her expression curt and somewhat distant.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker.” She stretched her pinched expression painfully into a smile, or was it a grimace? Either way, after a couple moments where nobody said anything else, Tim figured he wasn’t about to get an invite inside and, saying he had to get going, he ran back to his car and drove home.
Greg had to admit to himself that he was a little jealous of Tim, who got to spend the holidays with a warm family that loved him. Not that his family didn’t care, but all his mom seemed to talk about was how disappointed she was in him, and how he looked fatter every time she saw him. His father was no better, saying that Greg was getting into a lot of "bad habits” at school. Greg couldn’t help but think that his dad was being pretty hypocritical. Mr. Parker had lost a little weight over the years, but he was still bigger than Greg, and once or twice a week, Mr. Parker would go to McDonalds after work and binge on Big Macs and fries.
The food was pretty horrible. Greg was hungry again and ready to eat big that evening, but all his mom had made was boiled chicken and broccoli. No carbs, and no seasoning on anything. And after one piece of chicken, his mom told him he had "had enough.” Frustrated, Greg went to his room to watch some TV. Of course, he’d also eaten a couple chocolate bars and some Twinkies that he had stowed away in his book bag, but that was hardly enough to satisfy him, and he went to bed hungry and alone.

TAP TAP! CLAP! What’s that? Greg wondered. He got out of the bed and walked over to the window, pulling up the blinds to figure out what was going on. Tim was staring up at him from the yard below. He had a big bag of something at his feet. Greg pulled up the window. "What’s up?”
"Let me in! ‘I come bearing gifts!’” He said, his mischievous smile spreading across his face.
"Okay wiseguy, I’ll meet you around back,” Greg said, and he went downstairs to open the backdoor. His parents slept on the ground floor, so they had to tiptoe going from the back door upstairs, but once they were in his room they relaxed. "So, what’d you bring me?’ Greg asked.
"I knew you probably weren’t gonna get much to eat tonight, so I brought over a few things from the house,” he said, setting a large thermal bag – the kind a family might use on a camping trip – on the bed.
Greg looked into the bag, which was filled to the brim with containers of food. "A few things?” he said, smiling widely.
"Well, maybe a bunch of stuff. You think you can eat it all?”
"Only one way to find out.” And he dug in.
Tim had warmed all the food before he wrapped it up, so it was still hot by the time he arrived at Greg’s house and started opening the containers. The aroma of sausages, ham, breadsticks, and dressing filled the room, rousing a food lust so strong in Greg that he could hardly control himself as he grabbed fitfully at everything in front of him. His appetite was vast and bottomless, and he tore through the sausages and scalloped potatoes like it was his last supper. Tim rubbed his belly to create more room; somewhat in vain, since Greg showed no signs of stopping.
Soon, the last of the macaroni and cheese, and other staple goods were gone, and Greg moved effortlessly on to the bread pudding, shoving it into his mouth with his hands and savoring its sweet, rich flavor before stuffing himself with more. And then there was banana pudding and chocolate cake, apple pie and ice cream. He felt the rich desserts filling him up, pushing his belly to the limits, yet this didn’t faze him. The sweets were so rich, his appetite so voracious, that he ate with the gluttonous savagery of a man that had been starved for months of all food and pleasure. Finally, he had finished everything but Mrs. Dessalines’ specialty: her caramel apple crumb cake. The rich sweetness of the apples and caramel contrasted wonderfully with the cake, each bite erupting with orgasmic pleasure in his mouth and making him want more and more until it was all gone and Tim was on top of him before he could mouth a word of protest.
"Ahh!” He sighed as his back hit the bed, his belly taut and swaying heavily from all the food. He couldn’t remember ever eating so much at one time, yet he wanted nothing more than to feel Tim’s body against his own. Tim was all over him, feeling Greg up beneath his shirt until he couldn’t take it anymore and had to rip it off, giving his belly the full treatment.
"How does that feel?” Tim asked.
"Don’t stop, don’t stop,” he gasped. Tim’s hands were big and sturdy, his firm caress sending waves of pleasure through Greg’s body. Tim started pinching his nipples, and then he came up and gave him a deep kiss, forcing his tongue into Greg’s mouth and tasting the sweet remnants of the desserts. "Take off your shirt,” Greg commanded. Tim threw the shirt off, revealing his muscular body in all its splendor. He was smooth, like Greg, but the similarities ended there. His chest and his six-pack glistened with sweat, and his muscular arms seemed to ripple with excitement. Tim dove back down into Greg and started sucking and nibbling on his neck and ears. Greg’s arms were wrapped tight around Tim, pressing him deep into his taut belly and feeling so good that his eyes were rolling back into his head.
They tore off the rest of their clothes, and Tim started giving Greg deep and powerful kisses, moving his hands all over his neck and belly, and grinding his piece into Greg’s. Greg hadn’t gotten to taste it since earlier that morning, and was suddenly filled with the urge to take it into his mouth. "Give it to me,” he gasped, his cock hunger forcing him to break from the kiss. "Give me your cock. Fuck my mouth with it.” Tim turned around and straddled Greg so he could start feeding him his cock, Greg’s hungry mouth just in reach of the 8+ inch shaft before he pulled it away. He did it again, Greg’s tongue stretched out into the air, just wanting to touch the tip of the warm shaft, when Tim came down and drove it deep down his throat. Greg’s moans were deep and satisfying, and only increased as Tim dove into a 69 position and started rubbing Greg’s hole. Tim spit on it, watching it pucker up and greedily take the natural lube into its depths, before diving headfirst into Greg’s hole. He massaged Greg’s plump cheeks, opening and closing them over his hole and sending him completely over the edge. Tim’s cock was deep in Greg’s throat, yet Tim could hear his moaning grow louder as he started kneading his ass more aggressively, driving his tongue deeper into his hole. Greg loved to suck Tim off, but when Tim played with his hole he totally lost control. His body quivered with nervous pleasure, and he prayed that he’d get to feel Tim deeper inside of him.
"Fuck me,” he said, breathy and a little desperate as he recovered from having Tim’s pole in his mouth. "I want to feel you inside of me.” Turning back around, Tim positioned himself so he could get ready to enter Greg, and started kneading Greg’s hole with the head of his cock. Greg was mumbling incoherently, his hips bucking into Tim’s rod as his desire grew stronger. Unable to hold back any longer, Tim lubed his shaft and without warning pierced Greg’s hole with the first few inches of his dick.
"Ah!” he breathed, wincing slightly as the head of Tim’s dick thrust itself inside of him. Tim’s dick was long and thick, but the pain soon subsided and Greg was filled with pleasure as Tim pumped him with the tip of his shaft, kissing him deep and squeezing his nipples. He felt hot all over, intense pleasure reaching into his core and erupting from him through loud and guttural moaning. It felt like love, the pleasure more intense than anything he could imagine, and he started bucking his fat ass cheeks and grabbing Tim’s muscle thighs to force more cock inside of him. Sensing the shift in Greg, Tim grabbed Greg’s fat hams and buried his shaft deep inside Greg’s hole. He held it for a moment, oblivious to Greg’s sharp intake of breath as he let himself feel Greg’s tight hole wrapped around his cock. Then he started pounding him, fucking Greg deeper and harder than before.
"You like it.” Tim said, demanding approval. "You like having my dick in you, don’t you.”
"Fuck me,” Greg breathed out, barely lucid from the intense pleasure running through him, rocking out in waves from his prostate through his entire body. "I want more . . . I want more!” he pleaded.
Bracing himself on Greg’s fat belly, Tim started pounding Greg even harder, his thighs and glutes shiny with sweat and a look on his face like he couldn’t be happier. Greg grabbed Tim’s bubble-butt, firm and smooth to the touch, and pulled him in to get as much dick inside of him as possible. "Kiss me,” he said, bringing Tim down onto his belly and greeting Tim’s full lips with his own, rocking back and forth with Tim’s shaft buried deep inside of him. Tim broke this kiss abruptly and started pounding Greg with even more force, both of them getting closer to orgasm. Greg’s hands were all over his body, rubbing his belly, pinching his nipples and rubbing his cock to intensify the experience. His belly was swaying wildly with each thrust, and with Tim’s dick giving his hole a working over like it had never seen before, it wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold out any longer.
"I’m gonna cum!” he screamed, rubbing himself with a fervor that sent jets of cum streaming out of his cock and onto his belly, chest and face. Seeing the cum all over his chub set off the firebomb in Tim’s loins, and before Greg was done working the last of it out of his cock, Tim was pulling out and cumming all over Greg’s chubby chest and face.
Completely spent, Tim collapsed onto Greg, both breathing as one as they recovered from one of the best lays they had ever had together. Neither one could tell how long they laid like that, though seeing the sky begin to pale with pre-dawn light stirred Tim into action.
He jumped up all of the sudden, the spring back in his step, and threw Greg’s clothes onto his big belly. "Get all your clothes together. I told mom you were coming back to our place, and she’ll expect to see you there for breakfast tomorrow.”
"I’m staying at your place?”
"At least until the end of break. She set up the spare room for you, just to keep up appearances, although I may be sneaking in there every once in a while —”
"These pants! I can’t get them to button . . .” Greg said, straining to get the pants to button, though his big belly kept getting in the way of the pants button and the slit meant to keep the pants fastened.
Tim could have fucked him again right then and there, but he kept it together. "Hmm. We’ll go get some new jeans after breakfast. Maybe no one will notice?” He said, throwing Greg one of the tightest fitting sweaters he could still wear.
"What’s she making?”
"The good stuff: eggs, bacon, sausage, waffles . . . she’s even doing her cinnamon rolls this time.”
"Sounds good,” Greg said, still full but already anticipating the next meal.
"Yeah, let’s get outta here before she wakes up.” With that said, Tim helped take Greg’s bags downstairs, where miraculously, the Parker’s were still dozing, and they headed back into the city.

Source: http://www.bellybuilders.com/messageboard/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=15211
Category: first pounds | Added by: existimator (2012-08-22) | Author: darkstorm1_5
Views: 3369 | Rating: 3.7/3
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