Bent + Str8 = Evergreen

When you go out into the woods and you look at trees, you see all these different trees. And some of them are bent, and some of them are straight, and some of them are evergreens, and some of them are whatever. https://youtu.be/S7pvkN08h8M And you look at the tree and you allow it. You see … Read moreBent + Str8 = Evergreen

miracle of my shishna

My harry shishna (tantric cock) is wonderful, slides back in your mouth on the pull back, you tighten up as it massages your tonsils and on the down stroke gives you such a satisfying penetration as your body slowly relaxes again on every stroke and surrenders to the miracle of my shishna. Made in heaven, you’ll … Read moremiracle of my shishna

Sri Lankan Shishna Massage

GP writes about his male massage experiences in Sri Lanka

 I was on a 14 day trip to Sri Lanka in 2010 – 7 days on the beach and 7 days touring the cultural triangle. We arrived at a hotel in Habanara about 5pm to visit the sites the next day; it was a nice modern hotel but as it was out of season, and earily very quiet. The journey from our beach base had been quite hard – 4.5 hours in a minibus so I checked into my room and prepared to have a nap before dinner. In the room was a leaflet detailing the massages and ayervedic health treatments available. As i had two hours to kill, I thought a nice relaxing massage would help ease some of the muscle tension from all that coach travel. I wandered down to the bar area and asked the barman – the only member of staff around – if it was possible to book a massage. He asked when and I said now if possible, seeing as there were so few guests in the hotel. He flashed me a smile, picked up the phone and I presumed was calling for one of the girls from the beauty spa to come and collect me. Instead, another guy turned up in uniform and took over his bar duties. He said follow me and led me to the hut where massages were conducted. The guy was dark skinned, had a smile to die for, and was bigger built than most Sri Lankans but not an ounce of fat on him. He casually said “strip”, threw a towel at me, told me to sit down and then disappeared. I nervously did and it seemed like ages before he returned.

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He came back in the room and said get on the massage table face down quite forcibly, which surprised me and then put on the radio which was tuned to a local station. So much for relaxing whale music then, I thought. No sooner had my face hit the surface of the massage table he tugged at the towel which he’d told me to wrap myself in. I was left exposed and felt a mixture of vulnerability given this was my first massage experience, excitement, and eager anticipation. He started chatting to me which I hated – either you do a relaxing massage or we can have a chat in the bar. But then he said so are you married? I said no and he replied are you looking for a girlfriend or boyfriend? This completely threw me off track as Sri Lankan culture is quite reserved and all I managed to mutter was maybe. I then berated myself for saying something so meaningless! But the next thing I knew he was applying massage oil along the backs of my legs, buttocks letting it drip between my crack. His strong hands then started to massage in the oil and almost immediately as his hands rubbed up my legs he let a thumb linger near my crack. I knew then this was not going to be your average massage. I was so worked up within minutes that I almost came on the spot as he firmly yet softly explored my calves, buttocks and and then he slowly and delicately touched my sack on the down stroke.

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I was already in heaven and thought to myself, I’m not going to see the guy again so go with the flow and just enjoy it. He moved up to my back and shoulders and it was there that I glimpsed the outline of a massive cock through his loose white linen trousers. I was tempted to grab it but resisted. The massage of the shoulders and back wasn’t that great to be honest – almost a token gesture – and luckily he moved back around the table and focused on the my legs and buttocks again. By this time I was so hard I thought I’d explode. Suddenly his long strokes turned much shorter as he zeroed in on my crack. Before I knew what was going on he was probing my willing hole with his fingers with one hand and had somehow pulled my stiff cock down and was massaging it with my balls. It was when he pushed and touched my prostate that I let out a huge groan and he instructed me to turn over. I did and all British reserve had gone now. I didnt care I was butt naked with the biggest hard on I had ever had and was oozing pre-cum. He pushed my legs apart and made me bend my knees as he focused again on my prostate whilst gently massing the tip of my cock. By now I was in oblivion and he expertly continued to massage the cock with one hand and gently stimulate my prostrate with the other.

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After probably 10 minutes of the exquisite sensations, I suddenly started to tense as I could feel I was going to come. Despite willing myself to hold on, I knew it was futile and so for the next 30 seconds I just enjoyed the growing sense of joy. He continued to work on me yet at the same time moved around the side of the table and his cock was exposed, rigid, close to my chest. Inevitably I came, more than I had ever done before, and the spunk hit my chin and cheeks. Amazingly, as I did, so did he all over my chest without anyone even touching it. He disappeared after for about 10 minutes as I composed myself and then re-emerged. Matter of factly he asked was the massage any good. I smiled and he beamed back at me. I didn’t make dinner that night. After wanking myself off twice reliving the whole exoctic experience I slept for 10 hours. We left the next morning, and the staff lined up to bid us farewell. I hardly acknowledged the barman/masseur but am sure I saw a swelling in his trousers, and vowed to return another year. I have had a few male massages since, but none have come anywhere near to this experience. By GP

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massage my shishna

Begin with your hands open very wide and place them about half an inch away from *my shishna Work up and down without actually touching. Touch me with your breathe, as if i am on fire. Gently touch my face and gradually make your way down to my toes. Touch my magick, radiating masculinity with … Read moremassage my shishna

True Love by J. O. Brian

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Every time I sense you,
I sense everything…
I sense your mind with tranquility and strength.
Your tranquility generates a utopia within this nightmare of a world.
Your strength carries my fragile soul for eternity.
Simultaneously, your tranquility and strength shape a universal connection within my thoughts.
Through this connection of eternal chemistry, I sense you, despite the distance apart.

I sense your mind the way my mind derives thought: natural and frequently.
Your mind hypnotizes my imagination.
Every time I hear you,

true love 4I hear everything…
I hear your voice illuminating the exquisite trail to your love.
Your rugged words utter from splendor lips with intensity.
Your words vibrate my earlobes with a glee of restraint.
Your faint soul speaks softly amongst the night.
Contained by darkness I pursue your voice, despite the sound.

I hear your voice the way my voice echoes in return: thunderous and fraught.
Your voice revives my day.
Every time I observe you,
I observe everything…
I observe your truthful eyes of masculine sugar.
Your visions and imaginings remain hopeful.
Your hope dominates humanity, capturing the strongest of rivals before rendering them helpless.
Inside an apparition, I observe your reflection against a mirror, as dreams sustain me.
In this lilac hallucination of sorrows past, I chase you, despite where you take me.
I observe your eyes the way my eyes foresee our truth: rapt within a world of impossibilities.

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Your eyes melt my heart.
Every time I smell you,
I smell everything…
I smell your discrete scent of manhood.
Most men strive for your scent inside their individual essence.
I yearn to inhale your scent through both nostrils and exhale in the midst of fulfillment.
Your scent ensures that fleeting thoughts of danger cannot dwell while you stand guard.
Surrounded by this scent of sour pleasure and fruitful inducement, I linger for you, despite the wait.
I smell your scent the way I smell love: unpredictable in the mildest of behaviors.
Your smell enriches my sanity.

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Every time I touch you,
I touch everything…
Your muscles radiate longer than a thousand suns.
I cherish your physique as every vein rasps onto me.
I rest amidst your weight while you shadow my deepest fear amongst your strength.
You arid tears bleeding through my skin, excruciating without your sheltering supremacy.

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Your muscles induce so much of my temptations that I romance you, despite the opinions of others.
I touch your muscles the way I touch your heart: affectionate with passion.
Your warm skin entangles my flesh.
Every time I experience you,
I experience everything…
I experience your character that ensures love.
Your essence harbors the strongest of storms, riding the waves of bereavement until the wilting winds weaken.
My tongue traces every element of your body, creating your portrait with saliva.
You enmesh my body– as I lay beneath you– and love expands throughout the cosmos.
Your guardian core completes me; I feel warm sensations, despite my role with nature.
I experience your soul the way you experience mine: deliberate and firm.

true love daddy bear

Your soul secures my survival.
Every time I remember you,
I remember everything…
Your mind hypnotizes my imagination.
Your voice revives my day.
Your eyes melt my heart.
Your smell enriches my sanity.
Your warm skin entangles my flesh.
Your soul secures my survival.
Can my heart persist to exist contained by this inferno of absentmindedness?
Every storm is extreme, while every gale is severe.
Flashes of lightning harness every moment spent embracing your arms.
Each shining bolt depicts a remembrance of you.

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Mammoth sounding thunder incorporates horrified nightmares that continue to elude my love.
These rumbles are instruments that turn the pages of Leviticus in the sorrow of consequence.
Sorrow drenched rain encompasses the sensation of my touching your body as you return the favor.
Every raindrop is thinner than my own tears, which are equal to the flood.
The eye of the cyclone is identical to the eyes of my love; both vanish without my blessing.
For you, my devotion is no fabrication.
Without your vigor and refuge, the hurricane is treacherous.
This hurricane symbolizes two constant struggles that devour my strength.

Every wind stream changes my direction in this misplaced planet of captivity.
Typhoons create sounds that resemble Satan’s desire to exploit my lust.
A bottomless cliff produces the fantasy of life after death; I am intrigued to join the undead.
I cannot return; behind me is the existence of human race of deceit.
An impulsive burst of vengeance leaves my corpse in ruins.
Each extremity symbolizes affection with the man I have dreamt of in lilac dreams.
My blood flees in rejoice to the prison of deception that no longer relics a love-filled life.
Hallucinations of sorrows past collide with a scene of unfamiliarity.
Two contrasting sides of a spectrum unite under one influence; separate walls crumble into opportunity.
I wander amongst those with crushed ambitions until our final passageways converge…
You intertwine my soul and we love eternally, linking the hourglass of sand that never fades.

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