Not Sure If You Can Help Me But, Recently I’ve Found Out About This Guy Called Eddie Chipp And Now

In my expert subjective opinion this photo is both fashion & art, end of discussion

wheeee!

The charm this photo has, is what I aspire to

I just took this to show someone what book I was reading but I like the photo so you all get to see it now :)

Hey support

So I decided to go to my first fetish event at a club next weekend, but being a shy always in my own head kinda guy I was a little anxious about the whole thing. So I thought, I might find some temporary presets or changes on Chronivac to last for the night to get me out of my own head and make me feel more at home with being at the event.

I think I messed something up though, cause although the changes are suppose to be temporary and only for the day/night of the event, I can’t put my finger on it, but things seem to be changing in my daily life right now, over a week before the big day.

It's Sunday morning. According to your memory, you had a quiet Saturday evening on the sofa. Chips, Netflix, a bit of wanking. A perfectly normal Saturday evening. But why the hell do you have this hangover? And the apartment smells of beer and cigar smoke. Full ashtrays in the kitchen. Empty whiskey glasses. Full condoms on the floor. A few jockstraps. Empty poppers bottles. What was going on here yesterday. And where did that hairy, snoring fellow on your sofa come from?

It's 6pm when you finally get rid of the fellow (hottest Sunday morning sex ever), you've tidied up and cleaned. Now you feel like a cigar. But not at home anymore. You've just got rid of the smell to some extent. But now you need a whiskey and a cigar.

You actually thought that the stranger on the sofa owned the biker boots and the leather jacket at the coat check. But he left your apartment wearing just one of the jockstraps from the kitchen floor and a pair of tracksuit bottoms. But now you're standing in front of your hallway mirror with one of the jockstraps, a 501, a white T-shirt that doesn't fit at all badly, the boots and the leather jacket. And you like what you see. There are cigars in the leather jacket. And as if remote-controlled, you walk through the evening streets until you find yourself standing in front of an inconspicuous door in the basement of a side street. You ring the bell. The doorman greets you with a fist bump and says it's good to see you back. Your regular seat at the bar is free. Your whiskey and ashtray are ready before you can even take a seat. You like Sunday evenings here. No curious tourists. No hustle and bustle. Real men who want their peace and quiet. And maybe a quick fuck. The fellow who disappears into the toilet had clearly made eye contact with you beforehand. You follow him…

Monday morning. Shit, you could have stayed in bed for another hour. But you have to look good at the weekend. And you have to go to the gym before work. And you're still wearing the urine-yellow and cum-encrusted jockstrap from yesterday. Your cock never gets limp when you wear it. Your PA shines through the stretched fabric. Fuck, you're so horny that you have to jerk off in the shower. And with every movement, your PA gets a little thicker. And your circumcised foreskin comes back. As you stuff your sweaty clothes into your gym bag and put on your suit, you think wistfully of your leather jacket. You miss the smell of masculinity in your work clothes… And the creak of leather.

On Tuesday after work, you get changed and go to your favorite barbershop. Hair radically short, beard in shape. On the Friday before the party, you only need to have the contours corrected once. You're actually always here twice a week. Great atmosphere. You're not the only man sitting in the styling chair in leather jeans. And with a cigar and a glass of whiskey, it's almost like being in your favorite bar. And once you've changed your clothes and had your hair done, you can see what's going on in the bar. As you might expect, not much. But Hendrik, the Danish barman, plays with your nipple piercings. And just before you leave, there's a submissive skinhead who first serves as your urinal and then gives you a blowjob. Good evening!

Yesterday was a normal day at the gym, but on Thursday you realize that the big fetish events are in town this weekend. There are more men than usual at the weights in the morning. And the men are bigger, more muscular and hairier than usual. It smells of sweat and musk. The air is full of testosterone. Damn, there's more than one ass you'd like to fuck. And a number of fellows obviously wouldn't be averse either. But you won't cum until tomorrow night. You want maximum pressure on your balls. You spend the evening with leather waxes, brushes and polishing cloths. Boots, pants, jackets, shirts, harnesses… There's a hell of a lot of black leather to polish to a high shine. Your new fullsleave has healed perfectly. The new sling is hanging, the St. Andrew's cross is fitted and tomorrow morning you'll swap the cotton sheets for black leather. You are a neat freak. But planning and preparation is everything!

Today is Friday, so you can wear leather trousers to the office. The dirty jockstrap and cock ring underneath. The white button-down shirt will be changed quickly later. You don't want to waste any time.

You change in the barbershop to the cheers of the other customers. Zac takes the opportunity to trim the fur on your chest. There are already long queues outside the club. You don't care. You just walk through to the entrance. You greet the doorman with a handshake and a French kiss. He returns the favor by grabbing your bulge. Fuck, your balls are about to burst. The party can start.

Pic found @my-gear-smoking-favourites

I’m not sure if it’s your arms or your face, but then you’re handsome so it’s too hard to decide, argh?!?

My favorite part of my body is my body hair- what’s yours?

Yeehowdy 🤠

Recently I’ve been seeing loads of pics of gym guys in tight, probably too small lycra gear, it’s making me jealous of their muscles & confidence, I wish I could be like them and wear tight lycra without a care who sees or stares

You’re browsing wistfully through an online sports gear store when a popup window opens, displaying a cartoonish image of a buff genie in head-to-toe lycra. “Special first time offer loading…” the popup declares, and the genie winks at you as the webpage resets.

Suddenly, something has changed. You start running your hands over the smooth fabric hugging your body and look down to see yourself clad in a tight spandex leotard covered in brand names. Even your body underneath the clothes looks different, bulked up and tan, veins almost visible right through the lycra.

You jump up, checking that the window is shuttered so no one will see you, and scramble to your closet, but inside is more of the same. Every scrap of your clothing has been replaced with lycra. The cotton polo shirts have become form-fitting compression tees. All your slacks are now muscle-hugging yoga tights. And your underwear is all sheer, tight-fitting, and skimpy as hell.

As you blush down to your lycra-clad chest, you hear a cough from your computer speakers, and turn to see the cartoon genie glaring at you from the screen. “Okay, wrong reaction,” he scolds you, his voice tinny and distorted. “Maybe this will fix you.”

Faster than you can react, another loading bar fills and the page resets.

It’s like a fog settles over your head. This is hot, you think, feeling up massive tan muscles through your even tighter lycra one-piece. You love the mesh panels that let everyone see how much of a lycra slut you are. Nothing else is important except showing off your spandex-clad superhero muscles and getting off in your favourite gear.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

Reblog this to give me a gentle kiss

Reminder I am 5ft4 and like to be thrown about 🙂‍↕️

Hi

☁️✨☁️✨☁️✨☁️