web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Damn

Saturday, December 14, 2013


I just fucked a hard load into Handsome Fuckboy. God, it was good. And given the way things have been going lately, completely unexpected. It was one of my top fucks of the year. I was out till 3 last night, eating an ill-advised cheeseburger and fries right before going to sleep, which woke me up a few hours later banging on my metabolism, and then my dad woke me up at 10 am, calling me from Florida to rib me about the snow we're getting (which is still falling). I felt like crap, hungover more from the cheeseburger than the beer I drank I think, and in absolutely no mood for sex. But I had put Handsome Fuckboy off twice this week and today we were supposed to get together, so I dutifully texted him. He took a while to reply, saying he had a sore throat. At first I was relieved, because I didn't want to waste a lousy fuck on such a great bottom. We pinged back and forth about our disappointment, and then I said, "Well, you could just come over and I could stroke your body and beat off on you!" This seemed to perk him up, and he said, "Well, I guess it's just my throat that hurts; my ass is fine." I felt terrible asking a kid with a sore throat to trudge across Brooklyn in the snow to visit my possibly limp dick, but I just couldn't help myself. The idea of lolling around in the bed with a tight little twentysomething as the flurries blew outside was just too appealing. So I lured him here. And an hour later he was here, and an hour after that he left with my genetic material shot deep inside his guts. Damn!

Thinking back on all the guys I've been with this week-- it's been unusually busy-- I realize what a difference small things make. Literally-- he's maybe 5'5 and a complete slip of a thing, and when he came in from the snow I helped him unwrap his layers and then felt him up, and then wrapped my bulk around him, and there is just something primally arousing about completely overwhelming a tiny, shaking little thing like that. But he also instinctively knows how to respond to what I do without any verbal cues, and he likes to start out very slowly the way I do. The guy yesterday was hands-down more boner-inducing visually-- he is extremely cute and has a very exciting body, not built or muscular but just very naturally sexy, and forget the humongous rock-hard dick. But visual only goes so far with me. This kid has really got something, and whatever it is, my dick wants to ejaculate in it, hard.

I spent a good time still dressed just feeling him up and kissing him and sucking on his neck, which made his dick swell noticeably in his corduroys every time. He is very quiet and only makes the most minimal of mewling sounds when something turns him on, and for some reason, that's even more exciting than the never-ending, hearty streams of "Oh God man yeah" that I get from more enthusiastic dudes. I guess everything has its place-- I did have fun with Double Scorpio the first time, for sure, but Handsome Fuckboy is like the meal you are always hungry for after a hard day of work-- nothing else satisfies the same way, no matter how epicurean the delight.

His dick is very pretty and just stays hard as a motherfucking rock. It's smaller than mine, but the straining hardness and beautiful fleshiness of the head makes it a real pleasure to rub against mine. I rubbed my bulk all over him and felt him precum freely; he wrapped his little body around me completely and just luxuriated in being underneath me. I couldn't help thinking of the contrast between the last few guys. There was no worry about erections, no calculation of how to make sure I kept myself turned on, nothing. It just felt so fucking good.

I wondered if it was a bad idea to stick my dick in his mouth if he had a sore throat. But maybe my prostatic fluid would have curative powers, I rationalized! It is sweet, slippery, warm; it must be a salve for the esophagus, right? So to further heap depraved burdens on this poor kid who just walked through a blizzard to have me sweat all over him, I slid up beside him and presented my red, engorged choad for his inspection. He took it in his mouth without a whimper, and gave me that sweet silky head he does, again everything so slow and sensuous and perfect, uncoiling whatever serpent sleeps in my Kundalini and filling me with the desire to knock him up.

The only worry was when I was eating his ass. His hole had that acrid, medicinal taste some dudes who clean out too enthusiastically get. I slowly began to doubt how this might go. I remember things working without a hitch last time, not a care or a worry, just slip in my dick with spit to guide the way and buck my hips into him and enjoy the pleasure. But maybe he did something differently this time. Whatever, hiking his hindquarters up in my face and holding that rigid, oozing bone of his made him whimper much more than I'd heard him do before, and feeling his little hipbones in each hand sent an urgent signal up and down my spine: fuck this kid. Get your dick in there NOW.

So I took some of his precum and mixed it with mine and some spit and slicked up and pushed in. So warm and sweet. A little tight. Not very slick. I pulled out and was greeted with an extremely medicinal smell. What the hell are these dudes squirting into themselves when they clean out? My erection shrank a tad. I ate him some more to open him up more, slick him with more saliva from my tongue probing him, and the taste was very strong, dissipating slowly. Ay chihuahua. I reached for a bottle of lube to ease my way, but as expected, whatever was in him mixed badly with whatever was in the lube. Things were going downhill. I wasn't quite panicked, but I did suddenly feel a little pathetic: this 45-year-old dude unable to drill a horny, open, willing 22 year old with his ass in my face. I flipped him on his back and he hiked back his legs to make his asshole a target, staring me in the eyes and making very clear what he wanted. But I slipped my weight back over his little body again, lowering very slowly, kissing his lips and kneading his ribcage and hips with one hand, and slowly stroking my dick with more pub with the other. He lowered his legs slowly, and submitted to what I was doing; not sure if it was reluctant-- he'd seemed disappointed when he saw the state of my wang-- but always the perfect pliant bottom. And just being close to him, feeling his bones and his meat, feeling that still rock-hard, insistent erection of his against my rubbery dong, did its magic. I moved slowly and we kissed and I bit his neck and felt his dick pulse against my belly, and every minute my dick lengthened and strengthened. When it's good it's good. Damn, this kid is a turn-on.

And he felt my dick waking up again too, and it only made him more hungry. He was shaking, he was whimpering, he wanted me inside him so bad. He was getting very wet, oozing precum. I wanted to be an iron rod before I stuck it in him again, so I kept up my movements, letting go of my dick and pressing it against his body and humping, when he finally pushed my hips up a bit, away from him, saying, "You are getting me very close." I stroked his body, put my hand on his face and looked him in the eye, smirked a bit, and told him to relax a bit. He closed his eyes and sighed and I stroked that sweet, lightly hairy little body, and then gripped my dick like a sword, and lifted up his little buttocks from the bed, and he opened his eyes, saw what I was now packing, and pulled his legs way back. I slicked up with a little more lube and sank into him up to the balls.

The time for slow and sensual is over, kid, I let my demeanor say, giving him maybe three slow strokes to ease the way for the nonstop pistoning onslaught that I gave him for the next ten minutes or so. The switch from sweet and longing to stupid rutting animal had been toggled. I put all my weight on his slim shoulders and whaled away at his ass. He set his face very determinedly and looked at me with complete gratitude and admiration and took it. And I switched to hold the sides of his body and he squirmed with excitement, all the ways to be pinned down by a big hairy top. I hooked his knees under my elbows and pressed down on him and we fucked close together. I held them high and we fucked far apart, connected only by my fuckstick. And again all the weight on his shoulders, or on his chest, his favorite of all, feeling completely submissive and at my mercy as every inch of my rod slammed into him over and over. I fucked him with long deep strokes and his face was pure sex. He looked so young with this expression on it. His dark hair and eyebrows and his stubbled chin were all manly, but his eyes and the curves of his now flushed-red mouth were so soft and young, but he was pure sex and just kept saying "Yeah. Yeah. Oh yeah." I grasped his face in my paw from cheek to chin, with my thumb by his mouth, and growled as I sawed into him, "Tell me you like this as much as I do." And he looked at me helplessly and said "It feels so good." And I kept fucking, and when I bit his neck his dick pulsed hard, and I did it again and it pulsed very hard, and I looked at it; it was engorged even more and bright red, and very liquid at the tip. "Did you cum?" I asked, and he said, "I'm so close," and I asked, "Do you want me to fuck it out of you?" and he nodded helplessly and said "Just keep going" and I held his dick and he nodded again and said "Keep going keep going" and I said "Now you're going to make ME cum," and he nodded hard and said "Just keep going" and I let rip inside him, squirting the best load of cum I've produced in months into him deep, and holding his dick, rather ineptly jerking him, and he started to cum too, and pushed my hand away and beat himself off.

I was soaked with sweat and grinned at him. "Holy crap," I said, and he said, "That was great. But I gotta go to the bathroom." I pulled out slowly-- his ass was performing that post-coital death-grip asses sometimes do, so I extricated myself as slowly as I could, and he hopped up, looking very slender and vulnerable to me, and ran to the bathroom, closed the door, and, I'm not sure. Expelled me? Just washed up? Who knows.

He came back after a long interval and I motioned for him to get back in the bed. He curled beside me and I put my arm around his shoulder and stroked his body. We lay there for about 20 minutes in complete silence; the snow blew by outside, just visible through a crack in the curtain. I'm not sure how comfortable he was. I wondered if he wondered if I was neg and should have asked. I wondered how many guys he lets cum in him. But I just kept stroking him, until it was time to get ready to meet someone in town. And then I pulled him close, told him we should get dressed, and he hopped up. He's a little skittish and shy; we talked a little bit about nothing. After he was dressed I gave him a big hug, and he thanked me for having him over. I told him to go home and rest.

If only all fucks could be like this! I hope I make better decisions in the future about who I get with… this is definitely a quality versus quantity issue. This kid is real quality.


  1. Love, love, LOVE fucking a smaller guy. The thing is, I think most guys are smaller than me even though I'm only 5'8". That probably says something a little unflattering about me, but hey...
    Glad it went well. I always get in my head a bit too much after a limp willy episode and sabotage the next encounter as well. Way overthink things sometimes...

    1. So many guys your height are tops. And so many 6'3 guys beg me to stuff their gaping, starving holes. God is cruel.

      I probably tried to hook up too much this week. I really don't have that high a sex drive most of the time. My brain stem is always writing checks my testicles can't cash. But when it works it works. Just can't sweat the substandard encounters too much!

  2. I vicariously felt your orgasm reading this

    1. Then you had a real vicarious thrill, my brother. This was a pretty fine spoo. I wish I hadn't cum so fast, but when a bottom's dick responds to your plowing like that, it is pretty much impossible to hold back.