Damage

Today dudes continue to throw themselves at me at every turn-- I wonder if it's the phase of the moon? The tall, lanky, brilliant cocksucker that I slipped my raw bone in without permission is back in town, and he wants another piece of me. Ultra Meat is after me, too, since I told him I just got a negative HIV test and texted him a picture of the result. He claimed he wanted me to fuck him yesterday and said he would be here in a half an hour, but he chickened out at the last minute. Today I wanted to juice up a 29 year old across the neighborhood who offered his tight slim body to me on adam4adam, but timing didn't work out; when I was finally free from work responsibilities, he was no longer around. Luckily, at just that moment, the sad, boy-faced hot body I inseminated back around New Years cruised my profile on BBRTs. He'd changed his nickname before I could buddy list him so I lost track of him, and I had just been thinking about him, wondering if he was feeling better than the last time I saw him, and hoping I could get another load in him. I quickly added him, and said a hearty hello, and he seemed to want me to give him some more of my deep spurting cock. So I trotted over to the West Village to do my duty as a top. But we didn't manage to get my load in him; it was wasted all over his smooth creamy musculature. Sometimes, being a top, who can just put his dick in his pants and go wherever its presence is required, pull it back out, stick it in, hump and unload and zip back up after a little wash in the sink, I forget how hard it is to be a bottom. But all this means is that I probably need one more fuck with this dude, to really juice him up good.

He was very cheerful when I arrived, looking cute in a pair of cut off jeans and a holey t-shirt. His hair was a little longer and floppier, but all I could see was that sweet little muscular body underneath it all; I had been so excited on the subway ride over thinking about eating his perfectly sculpted round ass and then plowing his diminutive frame into the mattress and couldn't wait to get my hands on him. He led me through the hall and into his place and offered me a drink, but I pretty much just took off my shoes and wrapped myself around him. He was wearing a thick yellow hoodie zipped down to his navel with nothing underneath but his smooth, bulging pecs, sporting firm little nipples. I slipped my cold hands inside with a small apology and ran my hands over the bulges. His muscles are so beautifully shaped, so ample and manly, but when you squeeze them you find they are very soft, not thick and hard. Some muscular men are like marble, some men are like a good steak, and some men are soft like this guy. (My own calf muscles are actually pretty big-- I have a hard time pulling my jeans off over them sometimes, because the material is stiff and my calves bulge so freakishly-- and yet they too are like this. When I stand they are hard as rocks, but when I sit with one leg crossed across the other knee, the muscle hanging down is pliant as a boob.) But just feeling the warm skin on my hands, feeling the shapes of his body running over my fingers, filled my head with sex.

We kissed and he pushed his body into mine and I held him around the waist, and he grew excited and began pulling my shirt off over my head. I let him, and then he pulled my belt off and opened my pants and pushed them down to my knees, kneading my swelling dick while I kept tracing the shape of his body with my hands, which were suddenly no longer cold. "Should we just get you on the bed?" he asked, and I said sure, and he led me a little ways by my dick-- I can't tell you how much this stupid little act turns me on. I let him lead me this way for a few steps but then just bent over to pull my pants and socks off quickly, and then went in the bed, hopped up on the pillows, opened my legs, and waited for him to make me fully hard so I could dick him down.

I couldn't remember if he gave good head or not, honestly, but had a feeling he didn't really. He took all his clothes off too and climbed up over me, kissing me first, then going down into my groin and taking my still fairly soft dick into his mouth. And he gave me some very light head, not terrible but certainly not enough to get me going. Or so I thought. Since I knew he was into me, despite my schlubby body and graying beard and so on, I didn't have to worry about "performing" for him or correcting his technique a bit. So I asked him to work his tongue on my a little more firmly, and he vaguely understood, but mostly kept sucking me with very long, very slow strokes, from the rough hairy base all through my length, stretching me, and lingering on the head, never letting me out of his mouth, and never using his hands, but then slowly lowering his head to take my whole length again and then applying a slight pressure and pulling out and up, slo-o-o-wly, and I was not getting instantly throbbing hard but I was really enjoying the sensation, and I gripped his biceps, bulging and hard as stone with him now resting all his weight on them; my fingers lightly found all the crests and hollows in his arm muscles while he kept tugging at my slowly flowering erection like taffy. I didn't even have my eyes open; my head was tipped back, thrill in my dick from his motion, and hands feeling him up like Helen Keller with a dick. I could feel my dick getting ever so slightly thicker with every stroke. "Please don't stop that, man, it feels so good, just keep it up," I moaned, and he obeyed, never changing the pace or the pressure but just suuuuucking me out and then inhaling me back in, and suuuuuucking me out and inhaling me in. This slow-motion erection I was getting was fantastic. I let it wash over me.

And then I could tell I was hard enough to spring out of his mouth on one very long stroke where he pulled me down at an angle that my now fully-hard dick didn't quite tolerate. My dick bounced all around us like a piñata that had been smacked good with a stick, with threads of saliva streaming from it gaily. He reached out to stick it back in his mouth, but I finally pulled him up to me, kissed him deeply, pushed him on his back, and planted the bone alongside his dick, and gathered his little body up to me tightly, and with firm, steady circular motions of my hips, I ground my groin into his. He gasped and panted, his legs wrapping and unwrapping themselves from mine, greedy hands feeling my hard straining shoulders, as I bit into his neck slowly. When I reached down with my hands to pull him up into my by his sweet, round butt cheeks, I thought he would self-destruct. How lovely it must be to be a little bottom like him, with a big hairy top above him, pressing him down with a weight maybe half again more than he has, saying with my body, "I'm a man, this is my body, this is my dick, this is how I will fuck you, this is what you've wanted, here I am." He was having the time of his life.

I flipped him to eat his ass, and my face entered a wonderland of globular delights. His soft, supple, perfectly-formed ass cheeks-- how can ass cheeks be shaped like this and sometimes be unyieldingly hard, other times as soft as this?-- his balls in their dangly sac, his bulging taint, his thick round thighs. I took it all in with my face and my beard and my mouth. He jerked with pleasure and sensation and cooed when I worked my tongue into his asshole. "I like that. I like that," was the only thing he said. I told him how beautiful is ass was, how I didn't ever want him to take it away from it, "Just feeling it on my fucking FACE," I roared, and pushed back in for more. Beautiful round shapes stroking across my face, making my dick ooze with precum.

He reached frantically above his head and began stuffing pillows under himself, hiking his ass higher and higher. Honestly I would have preferred doing that with my arms instead; now with all those bedclothes down there I occasionally swiped a mouthful of fabric over my tongue. But I knew it meant he was ready to be mounted. So I slicked up my dick good, gave him one last hard deep probe with my tongue so I could let my saliva run into him and ease my passage… and I mounted him… and I pushed my dick in his warm sweet hole.

He jerked hard, and I began sawing into him rather roughly, wanting to really feel this fuck. At this point the pillows were very annoying, so I pulled them out from under him, hiked him up into my gruffly by pulling on his inner thighs, and fucked my tool into him with the authority of a complete top taking what he wants from his pretty little bottom body. He was gripping the bed hard with his outstretched hands and biting into the sheet. I hammered away at him, then pulled out, slid back down to eat him some more, and felt almost my whole tongue sink into him. He was open and ready for me. It was too exciting; much as I love to eat ass, I had to put my bone back in him. I mounted him again, impaled him, and gripped him by the hips, fucking myself into him like an ape. He wailed and wailed…

…and then I realized it wasn't quite the right kind of wailing. I put my face down next to his, covering him with my now very sweaty body, and held my hips still. He was very red. "Are you OK?" I whispered into his ear. He grimaced hard, saying, "It feels sore. Take some lube please." I let up a bit and he scrambled around in his bedside table, producing a tiny pump bottle. I rubbed the gooey silicone stuff all over my knob, and then ordered him onto his back. He showed me his white belly, with thick limbs branching off in all four directions like a frog waiting to be dissected. I gathered up his calves in my arms, pushed him back to expose my point of entry, aimed, pushed, and slid into him very smoothly this time. I kissed him and fucked slowly first, building up the speed and pressure and energy, pushing his knees back onto the bed on either side now, fucking in deep. I tried to kiss him but he was grimacing again. "Does it hurt?" I asked-- my least favorite question. My dick should bring bliss and a desire for more, not pain.

"It hurts," he said, sounding defeated, and I slowly pulled out of him. "I cleaned out and must have, I don't know, it's like I cut myself on the tube or something." Eek.

"Do you want to get up?" I asked.

"No," he said, sounding confused. "Just… I'm just so disappointed."

I lowered my body back onto his, feeling my meat slide along his belly deliciously, feeling all his muscles under me. "I'm not disappointed," I said, "I did get to fuck you! Let me just stay with you." And I held down his biceps, ground my dick into his groin, looked down at him, saw those long thick muscles, the definition in the bulges and tendons, one leg bent to his side and one extended with my body in between, feeling what there was to feel. So exciting. But he wouldn't kiss, he looked distressed. I told him how good his body felt, held him close to me and put my hands on his hips, and buried my face in his neck, and began to ejaculate on him.

Quickly I got up on my haunches so I could show him my pleasure. I splatted all over his belly, crazy jets of cum, not long straight ones like I usually do. This cheered him up. I held his thighs on either side of me, one in each hand, like he was a wheelbarrow I'd just loaded up with hay. I laughed a little and admired my handiwork as his body kind of spilled back from me.

And he ran his palms through my spooge and then began stroking his dick with my goo. He maneuvered his body up onto my haunches, moving so that his ass was pressed up against my thick gooey meat. He bucked against me and fisted himself juicily with one hand, reaching out with the other to rest it on my chest hair. He looked determined to cum. I bucked against him as well, mock-fucking him, and he pushed my hand here, pushed my hand there, kept just reaching out to push against my hairy chest, mouth tight with determination, beating off, beating off. Finally he grunted "PUT YOUR DICK IN ME" and I looked down at my meat, and sort of half-heartedly tried to effect this hydraulically impossible operation. When the flat back meat of my dickhead slid against his hole my entire body screamed with overstimulation; it went a little dark in the room for a second. I laughed, and he just shook his head, somehow walked back up onto my haunches again, kissed my dick with his asshole, and grabbed my shoulder this time. I humped my body into his while he gripped my deltoid harder and harder and harder, and then squirted all over himself.

He seemed greatly relieved. He told me again he was disappointed, but I told him I was fine.

"Well, how are you," he asked, very pointedly, to let me know we were going to have a real conversation, not just babble meaninglessly. So I told him, a bit about work and so on, and he told me about having been traveling for a while. I gingerly asked him about the situation he'd talked about the last time I was there. At first he acted like it meant nothing, that he'd already forgotten all about the guy. But then he told me more details; the situation was a strange one, wherein the guy apparently lies about being single to lure other guys into an only much later revealed three-way relationship with someone who apparently is very wealthy but looks like the crypt keeper. And we talked about travel and relationships and then I said I had to take a shower; I was still sweaty and dripping all over his comforter.

After the shower, he was still prancing around naked, and I had to fold my body around his again; he looks so good he is impossible not to touch. We sat on the bed and he suddenly asked me how long I'd been using BBRTs. I told him about four years, and he made a face; I suddenly felt kind of ashamed, like some kind of loser or something. But I think in the end he just couldn't believe I'd bothered. "All the guys there are on drugs," he said with disgust. I agreed it was almost completely useless. "I like bareback fucking, but I get more on other sites than I do there," I said. "It's like no one there ever actually hooks up."

"They're all HIGH," he said again, and I agreed. "Do YOU do drugs?" he asked me, again very pointedly. I told him no, somehow managing to sound unconvincing, despite the fact that I never really do, and have the same complaint about a lot of guys. "Honestly, I think it's a Manhattan thing, a downtown thing," I said, and suddenly warmed up to what I wanted to say. "Chelsea, forget it, they're all zonked out of their minds. But it's not quite as bad other places; here, everyone is completely drugged out and useless." He told me some amusing anecdotes about guys lying to him on Scruff, one guy claiming to be 6' tall but showing up in a 5'7 body.

"You're just totally over it, aren't you," I said. "Over New York and everything!" He agreed vaguely. We talked a bit more, but I had something bubbling on the stove that I knew I couldn't let go too much more than 90 minutes or so, so I told him I had to go. He was very interested in what I was cooking, where I lived, didn't seem to want to be alone. But I had to go.

"Take care of that ass," I warned, patting it before I left. He seemed a little upset. I hope he is OK. I can't imagine needing to go through all the prep and crap bottoms do if they want a worry-free sexual experience. I left, with my happy dick snuggled safely in my pants, my newly empty balls sighing blindly in their warm cozy nut sack. I'll check on him tomorrow, I think.