Face down in lockdown

I've never been in prison but I do have some very specific ideas about the sort of things that might go on after lights out in a cell block full of masculine virile tattooed men. I imagine that in prison, days are spent weightlifting and exercising in the prison gym and inmates are free to observe the growing muscles on themselves as well as on the other masculine, tattooed inmates. They are free to observe the increasing muscularity of the male bodies as they are being washed of their sweat in the gang showers. After a few days of this sort of activity the most basic animalistic urges will certainly take over a young testosterone filled male prison inmate. I don't think any of this goes unnoticed by the prison guards either, after all their job is to keep an eye on the inmates. I'm positive that after performing a couple of strip searches and body cavity searches the pent up desires of the guards are just as caged and volatile as the inmates.

Prison sex has always been a big turn on for my boyfriend and I so the prison scene is a scenario we occasionally spend some time on. It usually progresses as follows. After lights out inmates are required to be in their cells, in bed, naked and on their stomachs. These are the rules of the prison and it's better for the inmate to not break the rules, especially when the guard that works your cell block is hung like a bull. While laying there in the darkness I hear his boots scraping on the cement floor and his nightstick tapping the metal bars of cell gates. (And what I mean here is his socks on the carpet and the sound of the door to the "cell" being opened. And what I mean by "cell" is our bedroom with its huge walk in closet, balcony and cathedral ceiling)

Anyhow, the guard stops outside my cell and I know I better not move or try to look. I hear the keys in the lock and the gate being opened and I begin to prepare myself for what is going to happen. After he locks the gate behind him I hear him undressing, unbuckling his belt and removing it from the pants of his skin tight navy blue uniform. I hear him untying and removing his military issue boots. Then I feel him get on the bed between my legs. His knees spread my legs apart as he moves up the bed between them. He takes a pillow in one muscular hand and taps my hips with the other. I raise my hips off the bed and he places the pillow under me to ensure the right angle for maximum penetration. He slowly lowers himself on top of me and I feel the heat of his rock hard penis between the top of my ass and on the small of my back. His huge testicles rest down lower on my ass. I feel the warmth of the hard muscles and soft hair of his chest resting on my back. He pins my arms to the bed and places the rough scruff of his chin next to my neck and his mouth is right next to my ear. I can feel the heat of his breath and the smell of beer that lingers on it. He whispers into my ear, "I've been watching you boy, and I've been waiting all day for this, I'm going to fuck you good and hard now and I want you to keep quiet." His hand reaches around and he pushes a jockstrap warm and damp with his sweat and musk into my mouth. (I don't know if prison guards normally wear jockstraps on the job, but in our prison they do)

He lifts himself off of me and moves down my body, his knees open my legs up further. I feel his hands spreading my ass and the heat of his breath and the scruff of his chin on the tender flesh on my anus. His tongue slides up and down across my anus and then down to my scrotum and back to my anus. He tries to bury his tongue as deeply as he can, tasting and collecting the scent like any wild animal would do to his mate just before he mounts him. As he continues I let out a muffled moan. He spits into my ass and then rises up onto his knees. I hear him spit into his hand and then the sound of him rubbing his penis. He then lowers himself on top of me, his hard muscular thighs pin my legs to the mattress and his feet lock around my ankles to keep my legs spread as far as he wants them. The head of his penis pushes at my anus and it is so hard he does not need to guide it in. He lowers himself on top of me, his face next to my ear as he pushes himself into me. He whispers in my ear, "open up that ass boy". I bite down on the jockstrap and he slides into me the whole way. He stays still for a moment exhaling a groan of hot breath onto my neck. I feel the weight of his testicles and the smooth shaved skin of his scrotum resting on top of my own. I feel the warm leather of his cock ring pressing the tender flesh of my anus. He pulls out of me partially and I feel the sweaty skin of his scrotum which has adhered to mine peel away from mine. He slides back into me and begins to build a rhythm, the weight of his muscled body on top of mine. He whispers into my ear "take my dick boy, this ass is all mine and you better have it ready for me whenever I want it".

He lifts his chest off of my back and supports himself on his arms. His thighs keep my legs spread and pinned to the bed. In this position he has the leverage and control to fuck me harder and faster and he does not waste the opportunity. I bite down on the jockstrap and let out a few muffled whimpers. Every few thrusts he pulls out of me completely and then drives back in the full length of his shaft. As he rhythmically thrusts into me I can feel the wetness of pre-ejaculate leaking from my penis, I am unable to reach under to touch my cock, when I try to he grabs my arm away and gives my ass a stinging smack with the back of his big muscular hand. He says "you're not gonna cum until I'm done with you boy" This is about his gratification not mine. I would not have thought it was possible but angering him caused me to get a harder and rougher fucking than I had gotten up to that point.

Soon I could tell by the deepening of his breath, the steady rhythm of his cock pumping my ass and his moaning he was close. He lowered his full weight back on top of me and locked his arms around mine. His mouth was next to my ear as he began to exhale heavy groans through tightly clenched teeth. I felt his body spasm and contract on mine. His heavy testicles contracted and pulled away from mine as he marked his territory inside of me. He collapsed completely on top of me the weight of his muscled frame making it hard for me to breathe, our flesh glued together with sweat, his cheek next to mine he whispered in my ear "good boy".

In the prison scenario the guard would climb off the inmate and say "now clean yourself up" so this is where our prison sex ends. One of the best things about having a hot, muscular, inshape, semi-hairy boyfreind is that he cares about your satisfaction as well. So he lets the inmate roll over on his back and cradles the inmates head in one arm and kisses him. The guard uses his other hand to stimulate the the inmates balls and ass, you know, whatever it takes to help get the inmate off and this usually happens pretty quickly. Afterward the the inmate and the guard clean themselves up together.

It was the half-nelson that did me in

I tend to watch football on a pretty regular basis during football season. I enjoy the game, I also enjoy watching men in tight football pants. While I'm watching them run up and down the field I can't help but to think about how at some point both before and after these proceedings there is a locker room and jockstraps and muscles and hair and nudity and sweat and showers and all of that testosterone fueled male bonding. Probably some towel snapping, some wrestling, talking about each others dicks and balls. Then of course there is the whole pre-season thing with the entire team getting a required complete physical examination from the team physician, oh to be a fly on the wall in that exam room, or to be the physician. It almost makes me wish I went to to medical school after all. These thoughts make me happy and make me realize how happy I am to be a man, they make me even happier to be a gay man. I find the nature of the males need to compete against one another and to determine a victor through domination (like that's not hot) to be as exciting as the uniforms they choose to wear when they have their competitions.



Take for example the wrestling singlet. It is probably the most exciting of the sports uniforms. I've always found the "wrestler" to be a huge turn on. There is just something very exciting and arousing about guys who want to strip down to what amounts to nothing more than their underwear and try to pin each other on a mat. I do have to say the wrestling singlet is much more intriguing than underwear though. My boyfriend and I own several wrestling singlets and sometimes when we have guests over we often bring up the subject of wrestling singlets in an attempt to see if the guest is as fascinated with wearing one as we are. You probably wouldn't be surprised to find how many want to put one on, even if it's someone you just met. The wrestling match is something I've studied intensively and can give an accurate analysis of.




The wresting match starts out like this, with the competitor in a position that indicates he is receptive to his challenger.






















And then after some interaction domination occurs and victory is imminent (as is satisfaction, it would appear).












Usually after the match the competitors partially remove their singlets as this allows much needed oxygen to permeate the smooth muscled flesh. At times as you can see injuries obtained in battle need to be treated.

And at times the agony of defeat is too much for the competitor to handle and some comfort needs to be given. I think at some point all little bear cubs need to be held and comforted.

In the winter months where I live one of the local cable television stations broadcasts college wrestling on Saturday evenings. I happened to come across this on one particular Saturday night. Of course I was mesmerized and given the choice of Trading Spaces or college wrestling I was sticking with the wrestling. Not long afterwards my boyfriend came home and took one look at the television and said what are you watching? It didn't take long for him to get engaged in this as well. Somewhere around the 170 and 185 weight matches (this would be our weight class) the lube came out and our pants found their way around our ankles. What could be cooler than a Saturday night at home with your boyfriend laying back of the couch and stroking your dick. Given the situation it didn't take long for both of us to each shoot a nice big load on our stomachs.

Occasionally my boyfriend and I go to the beach and throw the football back and forth because that's what men do sometimes. I bought my boyfriend his first wrestling singlet and he bought me my first pair of football pants cause that's just the sort of relationship we have. At some point we will have our own wresling match. I can guarantee you I will lose beacause I'm not a good wrestler and besides you know how it goes, the loser has to submit and "give it up" to the winner.

For every problem there is a solution

As I've stated before my boyfriend and I presently live together in a condo and sometimes there are consequences to confining so much testosterone and masculinity to a place that perhaps may be to small to contain it. There are times when the male hormones start raging and it becomes really difficult to control your actions. This phenomena happens to me from time to time and when it does this little bear usually finds himself in a heap of trouble. Although this is a problem my boyfriend and I are both problem solvers and we've come up with a way to deal with the situation.

When you see your daddy bear in front of you wielding a 20 inch long, 3.5 inch wide, 1/2 inch thick piece of solid hickory you know he means business. You know that very soon you are going to be led out to the woodshed, if you happen to have a woodshed, which most condos don't. Either way you experience a very unique set of feelings when you hear him say "you've been getting out of line boy, and it's time we set things straight" "Take off those overalls and your undershorts and assume the position, it's time I teach you a lesson about respect" At this point I've realized it's best to just accept your fate and deal with it the best you can. The quicker your punishment begins the sooner it will be over and hopefully it won't be over that soon. Even though I know pleading and apologizing and trying to get out of it is only going to earn me a longer and more severe paddling sometimes I can't control myself and I start voicing opposition to the inevitable.

There is a split second between hearing the sound of the first swat and when the sting registers throughout your body and you let out a breath and a groan. After about a half a dozen more the combination of the pain and of being naked and bent over with all of your manliness, your scrotum, penis and anus exposed and vulnerable and the humiliation of being punished like a post-pubescent male by the principal in his office or by the football coach in the locker room after practice or by the wrestling coach in the locker room after losing your match, you feel flush and hot and your body begins producing tiny beads of sweat which attach to the hair, that lightly covers your muscular frame.

There is some correlation between the infraction and how the punishment progresses but I have yet to discover what this is. I only know that sometimes my misbehavior results in a butt plug being inserted during the punishment and that gives me something else to think about and concentrate on, especially if the paddle hits the butt plug which it sometimes does.

The level of discomfort I may experience and my reaction to the pain mean very little because my boyfriend decides when the punishment is over. There is also one other consideration I need to take ownership of.

The act of administering punishment introduces many urges in the masculine, muscular, hairy daddy bear. Because I am responsible for creating the situation where punishment was required in the first place, it becomes my responsibility to satisfy his urges. Accepting this responsibility is part of accepting the punishment. My boyfriend controls this situation as well and I allow him to satisfy himself in whatever manner he pleases. Another great thing about my boyfriend is that he realizes that receiving punishment also introduces many urges in the submissive male and it's his responsibility to satisfy those urges.

Start with a #2 then move to a #1

In spite of the fact that I have a thick head of hair I like to keep it trimmed real short. Buzzed off with clippers for the most part. I do it myself with my own clippers because it just saves me a lot of valuable time. I would love to discuss my ideas and theories surrounding haircuts but this isn't the place. What I want to discuss is that today, my boyfriend got his hair cut.

This isn't a picture of my boyfriend but I think it is a pretty accurate representation of him with his new haircut. He's pretty masculine, buff, a little hairy and has just enough of that hard-ass rough thing going on. And as far as the part I didn't show here, well that's only for me, but I can tell you one thing. Although I know it isn't true and there is no evidence to back it up, I think that the aggressive, take charge nature of a man is directly proportionate to the size of his testicles and penis. That being said, I can tell you my boyfriend is a pretty aggressive top.

Anyhow, both of us truly believe that you should not squander any opportunity afforded to you by a good haircut. The fact of the matter is, if you are going to do a Marines scene nothing adds to the authenticity more than some dog tags and a military buzz cut. And you know the scene I'm talking about, the one where the corporal gets caught breaking the rules and he's given the choice of a Court Martial and the end of his military career or all records of the infraction can be forgotten and erased from his record if he agrees to spend a couple of hours in the Brig submitting to the Drill Sargent. Obviously this corporal chooses option 2.

If you are unfamiliar, the story goes something like this; the corporal is told to strip and stand to be inspected by the Drill Sargent. After a physical inspection the Drill Sargent gets in the corporals face and berates him and orders him to his knees. The Drill Sargent instructs the corporal to undo his fatigues and to take him in his mouth. The corporal is reminded that a less than satisfactory performance and any discomfort to the Drill Sargent will result in several strokes of the Drill Sargent's black leather garrison belt being applied to the corporals naked buttocks. The corporal desperately tries, but cannot avoid scraping his teeth on the Drill Sargent's massively engorged member.

My boyfriend and I have been together for quite a while and we are aware of each others health status. Our relationship is monogamous so we are not encumbered by all those things that come with open relationships. Although sometimes we might use condoms in an anonymous sex scene, like I'm in a room in a bath house on my stomach with the door opened, it's not a necessity for us to always use condoms and this permits some sexual freedoms.

For example the Drill Sargent has the corporal on all fours and is behind him rubbing himself between the corporal's, now crimson, buttocks like a wild stallion. The Drill Sargent barks "Are you ready to take me boy" the corporal replies "I don't know if I can sir, please sir, don't take me raw". His pleas are futile though and the drill Sargent says "you just stay there boy and you take what your given". All the time, of course, the corporal was secretly wishing the Drill Sargent would have taken him raw 20 minutes ago.

Have you ever heard the sound of dog tags swinging freely around a man's neck, the rhythmic metalic nature of it? The sound is different for every man because the timbre will change based on the amount of chain touching flesh and that will change based on the musculature of the neck. Add to that some deep, gasping breaths and the primal, guttural grunting that is produced from infliction of a certain amount of pain, the pain which soon evolves into an ultimate and inevitable pleasure. If you know this, then I guess you know the value of a good haircut.

Lube and Cheez-Its

I was never a big fan of Cheez-Its, the taste always kind of reminded me of Fritos which I never really liked because to me, they just tasted burnt. Mind you, both were adequate to satiate the post bong munchies but, you know, that was a long time ago. I love my boyfriend and my boyfriend loves Cheez-Its so they have a place in my life and my pantry. On one occasion I was sitting at my desk working and I happened to feel something under my desk with my foot. And I thought, oh God what could that be under my desk and I have to admit I was a little afraid to just blindly stick my hand under there to retrieve whatever it was. It turns out that it was a Cheez-It under my desk and discovering this brought a smile to my face because I knew where it came from.

My boyfriend and I sometimes have a habit of getting things on the floor and one time solving the problem wasn't as easy as sticking your hand under a desk.

One of the great things about being a gay man and living with your boyfriend is that you can have sex whenever you want to. Whether it be during a Project Runway commercial break or on the couch on a Saturday night with college wrestling on TV, it really makes no difference, it's all good.

I just have one word of caution, you have to be careful what you get on the floor. One night in the kitchen things started cooking; you know a little "you like that boy?", "yes sir I do!". "You want me to give it to you boy", "Yes sir, please give it to me anyway you want". So out comes the silicone based lubricant, because you know you have to have silicone based lubricant.

Anyhow, being bent over the sink is hot especially by a pretty masculine and controlling top, you know, you feel compelled to just do what you're told and take it. So the fact that the whole time I was taking it the silicone lubricant was getting on the floor didn't really mean a whole lot to me as my mind was on other things.

Well, you know how sometimes things are really hot, but then when you are done it doesn't seem so hot and you fear you might have regrets? Like if you and your boyfriend have a 3-way with a guy you met online who doesn't turn out to be as hot as you thought he would be (please like this hasn't happened to you). The kitchen sink scene was hot it was actually video worthy but you know there was an epilogue, something you would never see in a video. Silicone based lubricant on linoleum flooring creates a surface I can only describe as walking on ice, covered with metal ballbearings wearing a pair of 5 inch wedge espadrilles made out of banana peels. Not that I would know about that. And let me tell you, scrubbing and mopping doesn't work.

For the next few days anytime one of us would walk through the kitchen you would hear a "WHOA JESUS I ALMOST FELL". We finally put a rug over it because regardless of how quickly and easily I bend over, my back goes out very easily.

It took several weeks until the situation finally resolved itself and it left me with many things to ponder. The most important of which is as follows: I'm a big fan of the show CSI and I can't help but to think that if a CSI ever came to our house and turned on that Ultra-Violet light they use to lluminate bodily secretions and stuff like that, this place would light up like the Forbidden City on Chinese New Year.

It's a black & white world and clothes make the man!

Even though I wouldn't trade being gay for anythng in the world, sometimes I feel like such a tool when I get caught up in "all things gay". Take for example my reaction when I saw this in one of my periodicals.

Well, my first reaction was, honey, I have to have it. So I grabbed my credit card and a couple of clicks later my order was confirmed. One for me and one for my boyfriend because you know, that's hot. A week or so later there was a note on my door to inform me that the USPS tried to deliver a package and I needed to sign for it and I was not there so I had to go to the post office to claim it.

I just assumed it was one of those FedEx envelopes from Capital One (the banking Nazi's) trying to sell me a mortgage and I was ready to throw the notice away and ignore the whole thing. Upon a closer look I noticed through the Physician-like chicken scratch of the postal agent, the sender's name appeared to be French (Postale if that appears French). So I started thinking, what would I be getting in the mail from someplace French? Then it hit me, the lace up Jockstraps I ordered were from a Canadian retailer.

Well, I was at the post office as soon as they opened the next morning, and they open at 4am. I got my parcel and hightailed it back to my luxury SUV with black leather interior. Of course I couldn't wait for the 10 minutes it would have taken me to get home and opened the package right there. And to my initial dismay, what did I find?

Black lace-up jock straps. How did this happen? I was so distracted by the visuals that I somehow screwed up the order and I ordered black instead of white. And don't get me wrong I don't dislike black in any way, I do own several other black jockstraps, I was just dissappointed because it wasn't what I was expecting.

As soon as I got home I started searching for another place to buy the white lace up jockstraps because I figured when it comes to lace-up jockstraps there is no law, as far as I know, that puts a limit on the number of lace-up jockstraps two good-looking, inshape, masculine, semi-hairy, well hung male lovers can own and walk around the house in.

A credit card and a couple of clicks later I had order confirmation. This time from and American retailer so hopefully I would avoid the whole post office thing. The next day I get an e-mail informing me that the items in my order are backordered and I am given a shipping date when they will be in-stock. Well weeks come and go and no white lace-up jockstraps appear at my door. I send an e-mail inquiry to customer service and get no response. So the next day, today, I call customer service. Someone named Nancy or Mary, I can't recall exactly, answered and she was very friendly and I gave her my order number. She said "oh yes the white lace-up jockstraps, they've been backordered from the supplier in Canada and I see they were shipped from the supplier so we should be getting them probably by Monday and we will get them out to you as soon as possible." I felt a bit of relief that I didn't screw up another order when she said "white" and I trusted that she was being honest when she told me I'd have my jockstraps soon.

Hold your water young man!!!

At some point in every relationship the topic of water sports comes up, well maybe not in every relationship but it did in mine and that's all that matters. One Saturday night, my boyfriend and I decided we were both up for a some golden showering. It was Saturday night and we had just gotten a case of Samuel Adams Winter Lager, our favorite beer, so the opportunity was upon us.

Our condo is on the second floor and we have a really good realationship with our downstairs neighbor. We get along with her very well and she always tells us she doesn't know what she will do if we move out and she has to deal with new neighbors. That makes me feel good, it makes me feel wanted and I like that. The fact is though, we can't stay here forever. 2 masculine, burly, semi-hairy men need space and land, a place to furrow and plant their seed. A place where testosterone can be emitted, unencumbered and in massive quantities. And by that I mean a pre-planned, custom-built community of 3,400 square foot luxury carriage homes managed by a homeowners association where once a week from the beginning of March to the end of November several 20-25 year old strapping, white trash males with crew-cuts, tattoos and tight asses come and mow the lawn and do some landscaping.

Anyhow, we had a couple of beers and then took a walk to take the trash and recycling to the dumpster and recycling bins. We each took a beer with us because it made us feel like we were in Vegas, walking to the garbage dumpster while drinking a beer. On the way back we stopped at our downstairs neighbor's because I noticed the lights were on and I had some things I had gotten for her that I wanted to drop off. She had some friends over for drinks and dinner and she introduced us and invited us in. With beers in hand we kindly declined and said we had to get back upstairs. My true thought though was, "sorry we can't stay my boyfriend has a full bladder".

Once upstairs, doors locked and naked, I laid back in the Jacuzzi tub and he stood over me and let loose. It was warm and it felt good on my chest and legs and face washing over me like a baptism. Perhaps, the baptism I would have wanted if I were given the choice at 2 weeks old. I opened my mouth and the taste was different than what I would have expected, salty but more potassium than sodium. It was not at all unappealing and what I couldn't help wondering was if the taste altered based on dietary intake. My boyfriend said "don't swallow it", which I had no intention of doing but the guidance the statement implied is exactly what you should expect from your boyfriend in a situation as this. I think what I found most exciting was the fact that I have a boyfriend who has no problem peeing on me if I ask him to and who thinks it's hot if I pee on him too.