Submissive male, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA, with a real life history of serving straight men. Interested in real life meetings but, in the meantime, blogging my experiences and writing fiction about the interaction between submissive faggots like me and real men. This blog is obviously not "politically correct" and uses terms like "straight superiority," etc. If you are a minor or offended by this, please go elsewhere. Send any questions comments (or propositions!) to servant4str8men@gmail.com. Enjoy!
He was always quiet, distant. What was he working on in his dad's garage, anyway? He grew up to be quite a man, decidedly handsome and strong. Still quiet, but exuding the unmistakable masculinity of men that can create things, transform things with their own hands.
He wondered about me too, I guess. Maybe because I was shy like him but also his opposite in important ways. Maybe because before track practice back then in the locker room he caught sight of how nature had deprived me of even a little normal manhood.
He was inspired to take action.
His quiet strength, his determination, his impressive ability to mold things with his hands--make even metal bend to his will--made him irresistible to me. So I gave myself to him. Learned what it took to please a real man with my mouth, my ass, my whole self.
He's transformed me, emotionally, in a way that goes beyond the device he made. I can't--and more importantly don't want to--resist him, stop him from what he wants to accomplish with me.
I go out to the garage to tell him dinner is ready. He looks as dashing and handsome in his work clothes as some men look in expensive tuxedos. He's irresistible.
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IRRESISTIBLE
He was always quiet, distant. What was he working on in his dad's garage, anyway? He grew up to be quite a man, decidedly handsome and strong. Still quiet, but exuding the unmistakable masculinity of men that can create things, transform things with their own hands.
He wondered about me too, I guess. Maybe because I was shy like him but also his opposite in important ways. Maybe because before track practice back then in the locker room he caught sight of how nature had deprived me of even a little normal manhood.
He was inspired to take action.
His quiet strength, his determination, his impressive ability to mold things with his hands--make even metal bend to his will--made him irresistible to me. So I gave myself to him. Learned what it took to please a real man with my mouth, my ass, my whole self.
He's transformed me, emotionally, in a way that goes beyond the device he made. I can't--and more importantly don't want to--resist him, stop him from what he wants to accomplish with me.
I go out to the garage to tell him dinner is ready. He looks as dashing and handsome in his work clothes as some men look in expensive tuxedos. He's irresistible.