Meanwhile at Nasty Daddy, Brian Bonds has grown a scruffy beard, built up the muscles on that ripped body, and pulled on a pair of leather shorts …
Video HERE
Site: Nasty Daddy
Scene: Owning Brian Bonds
Tag Archives: Nasty Daddy
Yes Sir
At Nasty Daddy, two hairy fuckers get together for a hot bareback session.
See the video HERE
Featuring: Teddy Tores and Zack Ackland
Title of this video: Yes Sir
Weekend at Garrett’s – Part 04
© 2023 Bostonleatherman
…You are on your own…
You’re glad to have the cigar and start hauling on it a few times to get your nicotine level back up. It’d been a while since you last had a smoke, and this was welcome even if it wasn’t the Red you hoped Garrett would retrieve when he went into your backpack. You can back off on inhaling the cigar for now; you feel the nicotine is starting to relax you a bit and that is what you needed after falling prey to a few of Garrett’s bait and switch ploys. You have to admit, he is a good one when it comes to keeping you on your toes. Always expect the unexpected with him. Your current situation is a perfect example of that. In your mind’s eye you saw things differently. Quite differently – you’d arrive, get settled, get caught up a bit, relax with a drink while you discussed the coming weekend, review the contract you prepared, both sign it, and then the fun begins. Far fucking from it! Fuck you, Garrett.
The closet is getting very smoky. You can’t see it, really, with the light off. But when you take a puff or drag, the burning end glows bright enough for you to see the haze around you. And it’s also getting warm in here. Sweat is starting to run down your temples, around the edge of your jaw and work its way under the thick collar of your straightjacket.
Officer Swift – Part 3
By straitjacketkwf2
Part Three — This One Gets the Full Treatment
The two orderlies who “escorted” me to the treatment room did not speak as we moved through the corridors and down the elevator. These were large men, not overweight, mind you, but they had tremendous muscle bulk and, based on how easily they forced me along, were quite strong.
As the elevator descended to the basement level, I looked at the name tags of the “goons” who held me prisoner. On my right was Mr. Johnson, who was about six feet tall, had the build of a prize-winning body builder, with his white shirt stretched across his massive, chiseled chest. The white pants had a loose fit, but his thigh muscles were clearly visible through the fabric. His short cut blond hair and piercing blue eyes gave credence to my belief that many blond men had “attitude” problems. To my left was Mr. Nelson, almost a twin of Johnson, but with dark brown hair and brown eyes.
The elevator doors opened in front of the door labeled “Hydrotherapy Level Five,” which opened into a large room with cinderblock walls that had been painted institutional green with steel doors along the right and left walls. I was dragged from the elevator to the counter window of the nurses’ station in the middle of the room. Johnson handed a folder, my “medical chart,” to the male nurse inside the work area. The nurse looked familiar; it was Nurse Reynolds from the clinic. He looked at the chart, entered some information into his computer terminal and then looked at Mr. Johnson.
The Trucker – Part 01
By Steellock
Matt sat on the grass bank by the roadside and checked the note that had come with the package of leather that the Trucker had sent through via Jim:
‘Wear your bleacher jeans, Levi jacket and those boots. Nothing else.
Buckle on the padded wrist restraints, lock them on.
Then buckle the ankle restraints over your boots and lock them.
Pull on the hood then zip it closed and lock the zip to the collar with the last small padlock
Use the big padlocks, one through the D rings on your ankle restraints to lock your boots together and the last through the D loops on your wrists behind your back.
Sit on the bank and wait by the mile marker and wait for me.
He looked down and checked his body. His bleacher, sleeveless Levi jacket hanging open, pushed out by his wide shoulders and hanging open over his heavy pecs and ribbed 6 pack. His arms with their bulging biceps and triceps hanging down by his sides, the wide black leather belt cinched tight round his narrow waist, through the loops in his 501 bleacher jeans. His heavily muscled thighs filling out the legs. The jeans stopped in a turnup mid-calf, and he could then see his heavy, polished black, Grinder boots with their neat tight yellow laces showing as a row of 20 lines on each one.
Male on male cigar sex
Nick Maduro is a hot, big-dicked cigar-smoking daddy, and Teddy Bryce love the smell of a daddy’s cigar. Watch Nick blow smoke in Teddy’s face before fucking him into submission
See the video here
More like this at Nasty Daddy
Risk – Part 06
By lthr_jock
Mike started to struggle out of the rubber t-shirt and as his accumulated sweat ran out from under it, decided to do this in the bathroom. He grabbed the straight jacket and hood and took them all into the shower, where under a stream of warm water he stripped naked and soaped himself clean of the mass of cum and sweat that was matting his pubic hair. He luxuriated in the shower, turning the heat up to massage his muscles that were aching after the extended bondage. As he did, he could see the red marks that the rubber had left on his skin. He ran his fingers over them and as he did he thought back to how they had been caused and he felt his cock rising again.
He ran water over all the rubber gear and left it hanging up as he stood in front of his bathroom mirror. Cleaning the steam off it with a swipe of his hand, he saw his shaved head clearly for the first time. His head looked strange and angular without his normal covering of hair, and made Mike look completely different. He hadn’t realised that Jan has also removed his eyebrows, which made his eyes stand out more. He ran a hand over his head and looked at the stubble on his chin which now looked incongruous on his hair-stripped head. Picking up his razor, he shaved his chin clean. As he put the razor down, he found another present from Gordon – a tub of some kind of wax. Taking some out, he smeared it over his head and then spent several minutes rubbing and working it into his scalp until it gleamed.
Forlorn Hope – Part 05: Things Fall Apart
By DR754
Today is Monday, August 8, 1967.
I’m scribbling this entry on toilet paper in a cold, dark holding cell in the Franklin County Jail in Hampton, Iowa. You see, it turns out the “town museum with the bars on the windows” I was wondering about, was actually the county jail. Built in 1880, or so they told me.
And I, a fugitive from justice, was dumb enough to park in the jail driveway. Fucking brilliant.
You see, shortly after drifting off to sleep, I was rudely awakened by a burly man in a “Correctional Officer” ballcap, rapping his nightstick on my car window. I tried to shake him off, but the message was clear – open up or else.
Uh oh. This is a problem. And where the fuck did a correctional officer come from?