A gay story: What Color is Your Underwear? Paul, my ’employee’, obviously derives untold pleasures and benefits from the role he has elected to play in my life.
I have often felt bemused by the dominant/submissive roles played out in most relationships. There is always a dominant role grasped by the alpha personality who will submit to the weaker, submissive role provided by those who just want an easier life. I am just honest about the reality of the situation. And I can afford to do as a please.
My favorite pastime of staring into the distance and ruminating on how magnificent I am whilst concocting the next pleasurable experience to indulge in, preferably sexual,.
This particular day finds me pondering the current color of Paul’s underwear today? From where I am sitting, I can see the whole of Paul’s extremely fit 170 centimeter’s of sensuality. I carefully study Paul’s shoulder length blond hair. Paul is sporting a neat, perfectly pressed, plain white t-shirt and calf-length plain blue silk loose-fitting shorts. What about the color of his underwear, though?
Paul appears to be washing my socks in the sink. This makes me briefly question why we bother owning a washing machine? This fleeting thought didn’t trouble me for too long though.
I decide it is definitely time for action. I quickly joined Paul in the kitchen. We usually indulge in some from of sex at least once a day. Today I feel as though I need to just go that little bit further. Without knowing exactly which scenario is likely to unfold and be acted out, I sneakily smile to myself as I commence the routine.
Humming tunelessly I menacingly stand behind Paul. This I do for a long two minutes. I stand motionless behind Paul, not quite touching him, aimlessly and teasingly invading his space.
This seemingly innocent muttering had a twofold purpose. I didn’t want to startle Paul when approaching him, but I did want to prolong the anticipation of inevitable contact.
The long wait eventually ended. Never being one for overt subtlety, I moved slightly forward, simultaneously gently pressing my erect penis against the cheeks of Paul’s ass covered by a silk, blue pair of shorts This firmly pinioned him against the kitchen workstation. At the same time, I kneaded Paul’s nipples, teasing his taut, muscular chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
Snatched breaths of either shock, pleasure or pain are the only sounds that emanated from Paul. To be honest, I didn’t really care which they were.
I quickly stepped things up as we both knew I would. Off came Paul’s t-shirt. Keeping Paul pinned to the cupboards, I squeezed a little harder and rubbed my groin faster and harder against Paul. Then I eased the pressure a little with my groin and slide my hand down the front of Paul’s shorts, grasping the hardness of Paul’s cock and gently cupping his testicles. To my immense satisfaction Paul was very, very sticky. Paul hadn’t been able to prevent himself from orgasming, but he still remained hard.
I started to masturbate Paul. I started slowly and gently at first. I increased the tempo and ferocity as Paul’s screams increased. I sensed I was attending to Paul’s needs a little too much when I felt a hot stream of ejaculate simultaneously spray across my right hand, and coat my new kitchen cupboards with a liberal stream of Paul’s issue.
I reached overhead with my left hand to locate the cupboard that that held a generous supply of lube. With my right hand I roughly remove Paul’s shorts and underwear (still no clue to the color). The combination of how soaked they were, and how wet his legs now were, slightly hampered my ability to remove them completely. My best effort was to get them half-way down.
Paul gained a few moments of respite as I slowly pulled back the foreskin of my erect knob and donned a condom and liberally lubed my pulsating, rock hard cock. I used the other half of the tube of lube to coat the entrance and inside of Paul’s anus.
A familiar game started to unfold to which we both know the rules. I just simply placed the tip of my penis against the entrance to Paul’s back passage. Minutes passed before I applied gentle forward pressure merely inserting the tip. Little by little I gradually managed to get my cock all the way in.
I stopped abruptly. My patience and ability to hold back continually surprises me. Taking a deep breath and inhaling the perfumed smell of Paul’s clean hair, and at the same time hugging my chest tightly against Paul’s back, I began to slowly pump. The intensity increased as the noise of cupboards banging together highlighted the frenzied intensity of what was starting to take place.
Paul was being fucked hard up the ass.
I sometimes amaze myself by the sheer animal brutality I have the capacity to unleash. I usually only ever consider my own gratification. No thoughts of warmth or tenderness is ever on show in this game. I don’t necessarily desire to inflict pain, but my own pleasure is the only thing that ever matters.
My mind begins to wander. I mentally sift through Paul’s lingerie wardrobe. Blue? – maybe. Orange? Red? White? Black? What is the color of his by now slightly soiled underwear?
MY mind bounced back to the task in hand and the steady pounding began again. I become aware of Paul’s gasps and loud heavy breathing as he hung on for dear life. I felt as though I was doing damage as I satisfied my lust. I am reminded yet again of the thin line between pleasure and pain.
My usual gradual crescendo and build up to orgasm didn’t materialize in the usual manner. All of a sudden, my condom overflowed with spasm after spasm of ejaculated sperm which was seemingly endless. Not my usual ending at all, but extremely satisfactory nonetheless.
Paul staggered off towards the shower and I headed back to the sofa to stare into space some more.
I never did find out the color of Paul’s underwear.