Aw Yeah

I have that total-body tired-but-sated feeling that only comes from fucking the living hell out of a bottom for an hour. There is no better feeling in the world… except spending the last twenty minutes of that fuck session right on the edge of cumming, feeling the bottom's body heat and sweet slick bodily secretions enveloping every inch of your rigid tool, which you've got buried as deep in him as it will go, looking into his handsome face, thrilled to be stuffed with meat, with his legs wrapped around yours and his arms wrapped around your back, taking everything you have to offer. That feeling just might be better. But I'm going to feel this post-fuck cell-deep satisfaction for the whole rest of the day. Knowing my cum is safe in his belly and not going anywhere-- he wanted to end by sucking the cum out of my nuts, and I was happy to lay back and oblige, soaked and breathless as I was by the end-- well, knowing he's keeping my cum inside him for good just adds that extra bit of satisfaction. It's good to be a top.

I'm back home visiting my mom, and am fresh meat here in town; everyone and their uncle has been after me since I got off the plane. This guy hit me up last night on a4a. He was that type of handsome fellow whose looks are extremely striking-- brilliant greenish eyes, black hair, brilliant teeth, clear brownish skin-- that makes them also look a little strange. So half of his pictures were dreamboaty and half made him look a little funny. He was taller than I like and his body was maybe a little softer-looking than I like, but he had nice proportions and a beautiful dusting of body hair. And he sounded like a true, devoted bottom and admitted cum addict. "I'll take it like a man and thank you constantly," he said, and he did just that. He was getting me pretty hot online-- it was well after midnight when we started talking, and since I can't host and he's living with one of his parents, he suggested maybe we meet on the greenway near his house. "Lots of trees and bushes around," he said. It was a warm summer night and the idea of breeding this kid in the woods was really getting my motor running. My mom was sleeping badly, though, and I didn't want to wake her up and have to explain to her that I was leaving her place at 1am to go cornhole a stranger on the greenway and ejaculate inside him, perhaps risking arrest and humiliation. So I told him I'd fuck him at lunchtime today, when his mom was at work. When I wrote him today to make sure we were still on, he asked if I wanted to do him on his patio. It's about 95 degrees outside, so I rejected that idea; then he suggested waiting till tonight after he got off work-- he was just as into outdoor sex as I am (though I guess I never do it). But I was too worried something would come up and I would miss out on this guy. So I stuck with the plan and at around 2 I was at his place. He was waiting outside on the front porch for me, smoking a cigarette, and when I greeted him he shook my hand with a very handsome, meaty paw and then groped rather unsophisticatedly around my groin, smiling into my face, saying, "You're right, it's hot as hell out here." I laughed and said, "Yeah, we're not fucking out here," and he led my by my fly into his house. The groping was a bit rough-- I'm a sensitive, artistic soul-- but I liked his style. I like being led around by my dick.

He brought me upstairs and we made out but there was more fevered groping, so I figured I basically just needed to get him onto his knees; he was really chomping at the bit. From the minute my dick went into his mouth, I knew this would be good.

And it was fantastic. His ass didn't look like much in the pictures, but once I bent him over the bed and got up close and personal with it, it looked fantastic. Meaty fuzzy buttocks, a very handsome nut sack absolutely overflowing with the weight and heft of his balls, the prettiest pink clean asshole I've seen in half a decade, a swelling muscular gooch that was fantastic to lick over and around, and a rock-hard cock almost as fat as a can of Red Bull, with a huge swollen mushroom head, with a beautifully chiseled ridge. I ate until he was melting into the tiny twin bed we were on-- it was in some kind of office that was just littered with crap; I guess the guy is a bit of a slob-- and as my dick was straining against the ligaments that hold it to my body like a pit bull strains at its leash in front of a thick raw steak, I stood up and aimed and pushed.

And I slid right on in. His hole was perfect. Every time I penetrated him, I slid into him without needing to guide myself with my hands; his hole just swallowed me up like it was manufactured expressly for this pleasure. And I fucked him for an hour-- riding his back, mounted there like an animal; flipping him on his back so I could hold his handsome face in my hands tenderly while I viciously speared his rear with my fuckstick; then again on his stomach, with his body flat on the bed and mine draped sensuously over his, his legs wrapped around mine, his hands reaching back to hold mine, his face turned to the side so I could see the brilliant white smile in his dark scruffy chin, eyes closed in a perfect picture of bottomy bliss. The whole time he exclaimed, "Oh my God, you're the perfect top, your dick feels amazing, I can't believe how good this feels, I could do this all day, there are NO tops here like you, God you are perfect," and all I would do was smile like a dope and keep dicking him. His hole just got silkier and smoother and creamier and he routinely would have me pull out so he could suck me more. "Your precum tastes amazing, I can't wait to taste your cum," he moaned, moving down to suck on my balls, where said cum was furiously being manufactured with each testosterone-spilling stroke. "Your dick is fantastic," he would say, smiling and staring right into my face. "I love your dick inside me." He had that monster tool, and he was in love with my average wang? OK, I'll take it! I boned him deep while I nuzzled into his neck and his skin had that narcotic effect on me; I pressed against him and inhaled his scent and was filled with the deepest satisfaction. I just wanted to screw him forever. When I got close I would warn him, and he would stop whatever he was doing to make sure I didn't cum. We wanted it to go on all day.

But it couldn't. I was just on a late lunch break-- and somehow I also had to get lunch! I asked him if he wanted to suck the cum out of me and he said he did. I told him to get between my legs and work my meat with just his tongue-- no hands-- and not let up. Don't take me out, don't stop and lick or stroke or admire, just suck my fucking dick, long motions so I can feel every inch of my unit sliding in and out between those beautiful meaty lips, slow and unrelenting progress towards shedding all the sperm I had packed in my balls. Like all good bottoms he was happy to hear exactly what I wanted and happy to do it, even happy to be corrected when he misunderstood. He just wanted to get me off hard, because that's the only way he could get that prize: the gigantic wet explosion, the unique salty taste, the manly spurting, the excitement of a top's orgasm under his own control. And he got it, without warning, and sucked me hard through it, almost too hard, but it was like a roller coaster that was way too fast and way too scary but you didn't want to get off, you wanted to see what the next steep drop would do to you. I shot like a motherfucker and he kept sucking and beat himself off, his whole body shaking like an epileptic's, and then he reared up and let that monster fat schlong-- which had never gotten soft even during the hardest, deepest fuck-slamming-- just spurt its white payload all over my bush. He didn't cum like me, of course, but I liked seeing him feel an orgasm too, and knowing that it was the taste of my cum that put him over the edge. And then he bent down and licked his own cum up out of my pubes, so I was sparkling clean at the end.

And we both just laughed and laughed at how much fun that had been.

I took a shower-- I looked like I had just run a marathon with a bright red erection-- and then we chatted for a good while. It turns out that although he graduated from high school in my home town, he had moved to Brooklyn about the same time I did. He got a bachelor's but had a "breakdown" at the end-- I wasn't sure if drugs or anything were involved, but it sounded a little out there-- and came back here to recover a bit. But he's been stuck here a year now. After having spent two months here nursing my mom back to health last year, I know how much of a let down life is going from Brooklyn to this place-- he even lived on the same subway line as me, a few stops away; it was very strange to be talking to this guy about stuff back home in his mom's office, full of colonial-style dark wood bookshelves and desks in this southern place where I spent my entire youth, still naked and panting from an intense, beautiful fuck. I hope he gets his act together and gets to go back to someplace more civilized. I had to run sooner than I wanted to-- here was a guy I could fuck and enjoy talking to, even though I was 19 when he was born-- and I left him where I found him, smoking on the porch, but a few ounces heavier with my load inside him.

I just might have to meet up with him in the woods some night next week, though!