I always loved when Aaron would decide to spend the night. Unlike my other straight friends, Aaron insisted that he sleep with me in my queen sized bed rather than the couch or the floor. I would offer the bed to use by himself, but he’d always flash a warm smile and pull me into bed with him. He was an Alpha who never felt threatened by my homosexuality.

Our bodies would snuggle close enough to feel warmth. I loved the weight of his heavy, muscular body next to mine, the sweet smell of his musk surrounding me under the covers. Aaron always slept like a baby at my place, but I would stay up all night enjoying the soothing comfort of having this strong Alpha next to me at night.

One night I decided to test Aaron. I knew that Alphas have an instinctual need to be protectors of weaker people in their charge, so I wanted to conduct an experiment. I slowly positioned myself next to his body and then started to fake a terrible nightmare. I shivered. I moaned lightly. It was an Academy Award winning performance.

Soon enough, Aaron woke up from the commotion next to him. He rolled over on his back and reached out a hand to stroke my hair. I pretended to bolt awake.

“You okay?” Aaron whispered, still stroking my hair.

“I … I don’t know. What happened?” I asked sadly, lying through my teeth.

“You were shaking,” said Aaron, concern in his voice. He knew of the rape, my nightmares.

“Oh, I’m sorry …” I replied, feigning frustration.

Aaron put a strong hand behind my head, pulling me to him. “Come here,” he whispered.

He pulled my head onto his chest and wrapped his arms around me. His body under me felt like the Earth, huge and vast. I could hear his heart thumping under his enormous pecs. I ran a hand over them as I got comfortable in his arms.

He held me for a while, gently brushing my hair with his hand.

“You feel better now?” asked Aaron tenderly.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied, more than satisfied.

“Good, I need to go to the bathroom,” he said as he carefully extracted himself from my embrace. He knew my condominium well enough to navigate it in complete darkness and find the bathroom. I could hear the flick of the switch, the opening of the toilet.

Then came a sound that only faggots can really appreciate: the resonant sound of a well-built Man taking a piss. It went on forever, and seemed more like a waterfall than a urine stream.

Eventually Aaron returned to bed. To my surprise, he positioned himself next to me and pulled my head back onto his chest.

I smiled wickedly in the darkness. “I love hearing you piss,” I whispered.

“You sicko. Why?” asked Aaron.

“Because it sounds like such a huge stream. It’s the sound of a Man pissing,” I whispered.

Aaron laughed slightly. “Well, it IS a Man pissing.”

“Yes Sir,” I replied sheepishly, “it just sounds bigger than most.”

Except for our breathing, there was silence. Then Aaron grabbed my right hand, pulled it from his left pectoral, and placed it on his cock. It was soft, but was still long and incredibly thick. I groped it slightly, my breaths quickening.

“See, that’s why it sounds like that,” Aaron said. Then, just as suddenly, he pulled my hand away and placed it back on his chest. “But you can’t have that, so go back to sleep.”

Little did he know that I would eventually get it. My little ruse had awakened the Alpha in him.

sir2u-boy:

and to think when my dad married your mom, they thought we wouldn’t get along because you’re such a fucking sissy and I’m such a fucking man, but having a fag for a step brother is working out great for me wouldn’t you agree homo? Shut up fag, it wasn’t a real question…you should know better than to try and talk with your mouth full. 

The Alpha in this picture looks very much like Aaron, a straight Alpha I served several years ago (I’ve mentioned Aaron before here). And this situation perfectly sums up our eventual relationship (once he accepted me as his fag servant). 

I gave Aaron a key to my condominium, and he quickly viewed it as his other house. He would drop by after a date or after playing football to be pampered. Sometimes he would have me make him food, followed by a foot massage/pedicure or a full body rubdown. Sometimes he would have me draw him a hot bath, and I would serve him drinks and rub his feet while he soaked. He loved how I would kiss him on the neck, the small of his back, or on his muscular calves. Basically, Aaron just loved to be worshiped by everyone, but he especially loved have a pet fag adore him.

One night Aaron showed up at my place late after breaking up with a particularly psychotic girlfriend. The weight of his muscular body bent my mattress, waking me up from a sound sleep. I immediately crawled over to him and started rubbing his shoulders as he sat there. 

Then, without a word, he hissed, “Kiss my feet.”

I scrambled to the floor, took off his shoes and socks, and tenderly kissed his feet as he began to undress. 

“Let’s go to sleep,” he ordered. I obeyed. We crawled into bed and started to sleep.

A while later I awoke to the bed vibrating. I could hear Aaron’s short breaths in the darkness. I quickly surmised that he was stroking his cock next to me.

I rolled over, which caused Aaron to temporarily stop. He didn’t know I was awake.

“Do you need some help with that?” I whispered in the dark.

I didn’t know what should happen next. Then Aaron said, “Go back to sleep now.” And so I did.

It was never the same after that.

The guy in this photo has a body that reminds me of an Alpha I served for several years. His name was Aaron, and he was incredible. Aaron’s body looked like this guy, but he had a face like Taylor Lautner. Needless to say, Aaron had a lot of girls after him, but he also loved having a fag to service him, pay for things, and give him whatever he demanded.

He would sometimes spend the night when he wasn’t with a girl or at the gym. When he was ready to go to sleep, he would come up behind me, run his fingers through my hair, and tell me, softly but firmly, “We’re going to bed now.” I didn’t need much convincing.

Every once in a while when he was feeling particularly dominant, he would stand in front of me and growl, “Kiss my feet.” That usually was the precursor to a lot of body worship.

Eventually Aaron married and moved away. Every so often I catch the sweet smell of Aaron’s musk in the air, and I almost weep from the memory,