The night is cool, and it tickles my leg hairs when the chilly drafts hit me. The cold can't soften my cock though, engorged by the beautiful sight before me.
Our low, king-sized bed, a perfect picture frame for the bearded, deliciously full bear that is tied to the corners of it. The sleeping mask over his eyes looks almost comical. You don't see too many big, sexy, masculine men with delicate sleeping masks on.
He lightly struggles against his bindings, and my heart just melts. He's so adorable when he's helpless.
I remember when I first saw him online, back when he was just another guy named Michael. My breath rushed away when I saw his picture. His short, chestnut, perpetually messy hair, with a full but not long beard with tinges of red in it. And his body, the textbook definition of dad bod, with lots of chest hair and a soft, rubbable tummy. Tattoo sleeves covered his arms and decorated his collar bone.
When we started messaging, I could feel his nerves, even though mere text. I just couldn't understand why a guy as sexy as him, who probably had a dozen thirsty guys after him at any given point, would be so guarded.
After a few days, I worked up the courage to invite him over, and he finally confessed. He had never told anyone that he was a major submissive and a bit of a masochist. And that despite that, he was still a top and he was only attracted to femmes, twinks, those types.
He was a poor victim of stereotyping.
Because I might be thin, effeminate, a cuddle bunny and a bottom...but I
love
to tease and use guys. Particularly guys like Michael.
I grab the riding crop from the floor and hit it against the palm of my other hand, seeing both of his heads perk up a bit at the sound.
