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Tag Archives: athletic men
Dean Tucker Vs DJ: The Oil Match
This is a vintage shoot from Naked Kombat featuring Dean Tucker and DJ:
Synopsis: With the record of 2-1 on Naked Kombat, badass Dean Tucker is going for 3-1. DJ has wrestling skills but has no idea what he has gotten himself into since there’s ball-grabbing, ass-slapping, cock to the face and much more — not your typical wrestling match. On top of that, there’s oil in the third round. Is DJ in over his head or will he take this dirty kombat like a pro?
Title of this video: Dean Tucker Vs DJ The Oil Match
This is part of the complete gay bondage porn archives at KinkMen
Male BDSM porn: For anyone who fantasizes about tying up the big guy at the gym
You know the type. He’s got a weight belt, and he grunts loudly as he presses 150-pound dumbbells. And almost EVERY TIME you go to the gym, he’s there. Wouldn’t you like to tie his ass up and teach him a lesson?
In this vintage update from Bound Gods — a site with real hunks, real bondage, real SM — real fucking — creepy janitor Brenn Wyson ties up, humiliates and fucks huge bodybuilder Vince Ferelli. It’s 11:30 p.m. and Brenn Wyson, the creepy janitor, needs to close the gym so he can clean it. Bodybuilder Vince Ferelli is in the middle of his workout. He refuses to budge. He tells the janitor, “Leave me alone and go clean toilets or something.”
Brenn is fed up with the bodybuilders and their attitudes and this just takes him over the edge. Brenn ties up Vince and commences muscle worship creepy janitor style. He then ties Vince to the bench press and whacks him hard all over.
Vince endures a hard cock up his ass in bondage. Still not finished, Vince gets tied up standing with just one leg and Brenn flogs him like a maniac. Brenn further humiliates Vince with another bondage fuck and blows his load all over Vince’s muscled body.
If you want to look this one up, it’s called The Creepy Janitor and The Bodybuilder
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For guys who want to start the new year in chastity
Arresting
By ty dehner
With his head bobbing to the beat of the music coming from the speakers in his SUV, Austin Dougherty’s mind was not focused on the road passing under the tires of his Carmine Red Porsche Cayenne. Sitting in the driver’s seat wearing black Adidas pants with the triple white stripes down the legs, his right foot, wearing white Stan Smith shoes, was hovering over the gas pedal in case he had to quickly get his machine out of cruise control. Austin was in a black Adidas jacket wearing a white high performance t-shirt under, the shirt having the logo of the major league football team he plays for. The quarterback kept his tight leather gloved left hand firmly gripping the top of the steering wheel.
Heading east through Banning, California, on Interstate 10, the lights of all the fast food establishments on the side of the highway kept the night from being fully dark as the headlights on his Porche illuminated the cracks in this heavily used section of the interstate. The cruise control was set at eighty since Austin has several freeway lanes as the concrete ribbon cuts through the pass between San Gorgonio Mountain on the north and Mount San Jacinto to the south.
Bondage stud Darin gets tied in rope
At Roped Studs, Darin is a frat boy who loves working out. He lies on a long, oak table, half-unconscious, stretched out in his street clothes, a T-shirt and baggy jeans. He can feel someone wrapping what feels like rope around his ankles and wrists and pulling them tight, but he’s not sure where he is or what is happening to him. He wants to drift off to sleep, but he forces himself awake when he feels his shirt being forcefully ripped open and removed. “What are you doing? Where am I?” he asks the young man standing over him, caressing his well-developed pecs and six pack. Darin isn’t the brightest guy in his frat, but he knows his firm, smooth, muscular body has finally gotten him into some real trouble.
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The Weight of Desire
By Justin I
Now…
Finally, Brock spoke, his voice calm but with an edge of teasing amusement. “So, what do you think, Jaxon? Should I take the straps off and let you go? Or should I leave you here like this? Let someone else come in and find you?”
Jaxon’s heart raced at the thought, panic flashing in his eyes as he struggled to lift his head. His body screamed in protest, muscles aching from the workout, but the idea of being left there—helpless, restrained, and locked cock exposed—was too much. His voice came out in weak, breathless protests. “No… don’t. Just… let me go,” he managed to say, his voice cracking slightly, the remnants of his frustration mingling with a hint of desperation.
Brock raised an eyebrow, considering Jaxon’s plea for a long, drawn-out moment. Then, with a small, almost amused nod, he reached down and finally undid the straps from Jaxon’s wrists. Jaxon’s arms fell limply to the mat, his body too drained to do much more than collapse in relief.
But Brock wasn’t quite done. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, sleek business card. Without a word, he leaned over Jaxon’s body and placed the card on Jaxon’s chest, the weight of it almost mocking in its simplicity.