bredbiyou

In the moment when I'm being bred I usually have two thoughts running through my head. First, as others have expressed, I'm thinking about how deeply fulfilling it is to know that someone is in the midst of receiving such intense pleasure from my body. And second, I find myself thinking of all the people in my life - both past and current - who would be shocked and horrified if they could see me in that very moment, submissively offering up my ass to another man to be used for his pleasure. Imagining their looks of disgust and disapproval always excites me.

I mean... I'm not going to tell a top how to do his business. But if he pulls out to cum outside my ass... man, do I feel deprived. Fortunately, that rarely seems to happen.

While ATM is normally not something I'm eager to do, I adopt a "when in Rome" approach to it bathhouses. As other's have said, it's pretty unavoidable. And any attempts to do so would just be a drag on everyone's fun.

Yeah, it did sting a bit.

When I was a teen, a guy I met in a park fucked me using a take-out pack of mustard we found under the seat of his truck. It was better than nothing, but its smell really worked its way into my skin so I returned home with an ass reeking of mustard.

It does happen. Before I really got into barebacking, a number of tops had to fish condoms out of my whole after they'd slipped off entirely. Of course none of them ever mentioned that it had slipped off until after they'd cum in my ass while unprotected. And of course each time it happened I'd realize that the direct skin on skin contact felt so much better, even as I'd be freaking out about possibly having been pozzed. But I'm very pleased that your bottom reconsidered his insistence that you wear a condom.

Similar to what I wrote a few weeks ago in the thread about how we learned to masturbate, my discovery was the result of curiosity followed-up by experimentation. At the time, I had had a single experience with vaginal sex. So I knew firsthand how good it could feel to have one's cock inside a warm fleshy hole. But back then, it was harder for me to imagine getting actual pleasure from my ass. Growing up, I experienced frequent bouts of constipation. Due to the constipation itself and the occasional suppositories that I was given as a result, I only knew that if I was aware of any feelings in my ass they were generally ones of discomfort. I knew I was turned on by the thought of sex with guys, and I understood that anal sex was one of the main ways that guys had sex with each other. Because my own ass was a source of pain and discomfort, I just assumed that it was the same for most people. And because of that, I naively also assumed that the top position (even though I wouldn't become aware of that term for another year or so) would be the default position for most gay and bi men. I figured that any time two guys hooked up there'd be intense bargaining over who gets to fuck who. I imagined that most encounters probably resulted in flip fucks, with the 'losing' partner having to endure his fucking first, while hoping that the top would finish as quickly as possible, praying that he wouldn't renege on his promise to switch positions after he'd cum. Then I was chatting with someone on a LGBT peer support line, and I mentioned that one of the things that made me nervous about trying to find a boyfriend without my parents finding out, was what if I go through all that trouble and risk of being 'outed', and I end up meeting someone only to find out that he's unwilling to accept an equal split when when it comes to fucking vs being fucked. She responded with something that I'd never even considered, informing me that there are lots of guys who really enjoy being the receptive partner, including some who enjoy that role exclusively. That seemed unfathomable to me, because I knew that fucking felt great. Why would someone consistently forego that in order to take it up the ass - something which I assumed felt uncomfortable at best? I decided I needed to experiment and find out for myself. Absent access to actual cock, I turned to household items. I noticed that one of the (appropriately named) joysticks for our family computer didn't have a molded handle grip, but was rather round, smooth, and not intimidatingly thick. I actually bought condoms for the experiment when my mom sent me to the nearby mall to pick up a few groceries. I wanted to keep the joystick relatively clean by not inserting it into my ass uncovered. I didn't buy any lube. The condoms were pre-lubed with a spermicidal jelly. But I also remembered that we did have a bottle of baby oil in the bathroom. I knew from sex ed that oil was bad for latex, but I figured it would be okay since I only wanted to get a sense of what it felt like and would probably be done before the latex had a chance to break down. I remember coating my hole with it, then laying on my back with my legs elevated, and slowly pressing the handle into my ass. The handle was tapered, so once the tip pushed through, the rest of the shaft followed quite easily. To my surprise, there was no real discomfort. I didn't immediately feel that it was pleasurable. But it certainly wasn't a bad feeling. It just felt kind of odd having this hard foreign object lodged inside me. I started to slide it in and out, and that too became easier as the oil and the jelly began to get spread around inside my rectum. And then as I laid there and continued to fuck myself, my life's path changed on the spot, as I began to relax and found myself imagining, "what if this was someone's actual cock? What if at that moment I could gaze up at somebody whose cock was thrusting inside me and I could see the pleasure on his face? How exciting would it be to watch a man shudder in climax while still inside me, knowing that it was my body that gave him that orgasm?" And I had other transgressive thoughts like, "how horrified would my parents be if their son disregarded his conservative homophobic evangelical upbringing to not only have sex outside of marriage, but gay sex? And not just any gay sex, but as the receptive partner who's submissively offering up his hole to be used, similar to how a woman gets fucked?" And when I snapped out of those thoughts, I glanced down at my own cock. It was hard as it had ever been, and was leaking precum. It was in that moment that I started to get a glimpse of how much potential pleasure I could get through my ass. Any notion that I'd previously held that guys must only enjoy topping, immediately vanished. The real question was whether I'd ever want to do anything other than bottom. And that was also the beginning of my realization that shame could be harnessed for my own sexual gratification too.

I figured it out on my own, but it was a progression of discoveries. I'm not sure how old I would have been at the time, but I remember I was at an age when I was still wearing onesie pajamas. We had a carpeted staircase, and I discovered that if I slid down the stairs, feet first, on my stomach, I would sometimes get this fleeting tingle in my penis from the friction. I later discovered I could also get the same feeling by thrusting myself backward along the couch. Even though I always remember having a curiosity about this thing called "sex", I didn't really make the connection. It thought it was just something quirky that my body did. Flash forward a few years. At this point, my parents had given me "the talk". But I still had questions. Mainly; if I'm having sex, how does my body know to release my sperm once I'm inside my future wife's vagina? (I got the hetero, no-sex-before-marriage version of the talk). Was it at all similar to how my body intuits to release urine when I'm standing in front of the toilet? I knew I had definitely had erections, but to the best of my knowledge, no sperm had ever come out. After giving it a lot of thought, I arrived at two possible theories. Either ejaculation is triggered by some sort of hormone in a woman's vagina, or; there's something particular about the shape of a woman's body that triggers it when you're laying on top of her. At that time, I lacked the means to test my first theory. But I thought if I were to take a bunch of bedding and fashion it into the shape of a woman's body, I might be able to test my second theory. So, one afternoon I snuck into my family's camper, where I'd not only have some privacy, but access to as many pillows, blankets, and sleeping bags as I'd need. Once I'd assembled what was essentially a rudimentary sex doll (including ample boobs - which I thought might somehow play a key role), I slid my shorts and underwear down, climbed on top, and started humping away. Sure enough, it didn't take long before I my body was shuddering in its first full-blown orgasm. I had cracked the mystery! I don't recall if I immediately understood that it wasn't really about the shape, but the friction. Nevertheless, I felt tremendously relieved that I would no longer have to worry about making the faux pas of peeing in my wife on our wedding night. Although, my successful experiment had led to yet another mystery. I had clearly just experienced an orgasm, but where was the sperm? I knew they were microscopic, but I had expected something visible to come out. But no, it was all completely dry. I shrugged it off, and just assumed that they were there but too small to be seen. After that, I experienced a good 6+ months of dry cums before I discovered what an actual ejaculation is like (somewhere in there I scaled things down to just a pillow). I've never been clearly caught in the act. Growing up, I had a few close calls in the woods, and a department store dressing room. Several more "what are you doing over there?" instances while sharing a room on family trips, or when staying with relatives. It's less of an issue these days, as I've developed a pretty keen ear for keys in the doorway or footsteps coming down the stairs.

Congratulations!

That box has been checked off my bucket list. I still need to get bred by a hyperspermic top.

Yes. I've always been under the impression that was the norm.

I concur.

My experience as a married bottom will corroborate that. No matter what lies I used to tell myself in order to justify letting a guy dip his bare cock into me "just for a few strokes", the reality was; if his cock went in me raw, it meant I was getting bred.

I would, have, and hope to again in the very near future. I need your DNA - not your name and life's story.